For Loving One rated explicit
Father Fell has been living a quiet life in a small parish. Despite the looming fear of war, he thought he was content with his small pleasures. Until a mysterious stranger comes to town, turning that life on its head and awakening desires the Father thought he buried long, long ago...
Chapter 3, in which Crowley is faced with the unbearable ordeal of being known.
Crowley had been living in the spare room of Father’s Fell’s home for almost a week. This meant that a minimum of two meals each day were shared across a very small table with the priest. Who, for a man of God, was apparently capable of making some truly unholy noises when enjoying his meal.
It was obvious the priest had no idea how he sounded (or looked) when he used the last of his butter ration on some fresh bread he’d baked that morning. Or the ostentatious way his pink tongue wriggled about when chasing an errant crumb or dab of sauce. It was inadvertent seduction by way of culinary delight. Crowley wished he wasn’t enjoying it so much.
He had no way of telling how long it would be before his welcome wore thin. His ankle was healed and some healthy color was returning to his cheeks. Any offer to help with chores was politely declined so he spent most of his time puttering about in the small garden between the chapel and cottage. Crowley always had a knack with plants and there were weeds growing unchecked in what could have been some very fertile soil, if properly tended. There was a small apple orchard behind the house but they were not producing fruit yet. He secretly hoped he might still be around to see them blossom, redden, and drop.
Continue on AO3
OR
Read from the beginning