Church au! bunny iglesias part. 2
Content warning: religious imagery, church setting, unhealthy attachment, guilt, blasphemy themes, obsessive thoughts, pastor/preacher bunny iglesias, church au, NSFW, unprotected sex
The heavy, sanctified air of the church seemed to thicken, turning into something viscous and sweet, like incense smoke trapped in a jar. The rain outside was a frantic percussion against the roof, but inside, the world had narrowed down to the heat of his skin and the terrifying, beautiful gravity of his gaze.
Bunny didn't move with the frantic energy of a man possessed; he moved with the terrifying composure of a man performing a ritual. He was precise. Deliberate. Every touch was a silent sermon, every command a verse written specifically for you.
As he guided you, his hands remained steady, though the veins in his forearms stood out in sharp relief. He watched your face the way you eyes clouded with a mixture of overwhelm and desperate need with a quiet, almost detached intensity. It wasn't that he didn't feel the heat rising in his own blood; it was that he found a strange, dark divinity in the way he could unravel you.
When he finally pulled your up, her legs trembling around his waist, the friction felt like a benediction. He didn't offer comfort in the traditional sense. He offered presence. He offered the weight of himself to ground you.
"A sin?" He let out a breath, a soft, huffed sound that was almost a laugh, though his eyes remained dark and hungry. He gripped her hips, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh there, anchoring you to him. "If this is a sin, then the heavens must be much darker than my father ever preached."
He leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours for a fleeting second before he pulled back to look you in the eyes. His expression was unreadable to anyone else, but to you, it was a revelation of pure, unadulterated want.
"Don't ask if you're being bad," he whispered, his voice dropping into that low, commanding register that made your soul ache. "Just be mine. Let the world outside think you're a saint. In here... in the dark... just be what you were made to be."
He shifted, his hips tilting upward, preparing to bridge the final distance between them.
"Now," he breathed, his gaze locking onto yours, demanding total surrender. "Give me your confession."
A soft, broken sob escaped your lips as you leaned into his strength, her fingers digging into his shoulders to keep from sliding off him. A sin, you thought, the word echoing in your mind like a beautiful, terrifying chant, but if he says so, then let it be. You tilted your head back, exposing the long line of your throat to the flickering candlelight, her large brown eyes searching his for any sign of hesitation but you found none. Instead, you felt a sudden, desperate urge to prove you could be exactly what he demanded. "Then take it," you whispered, voice trembling but certain as you tightened her legs around his waist, pulling him even closer. "Take all of it, Bunny... make me forget everything else." You leaned forward, lips brushing against his as you prepared to meet his intensity with her own frantic, shameful devotion.
The air in the sanctuary seemed to vanish, leaving only the scent of rain, old wood, and the intoxicating, salt sweet musk of their shared heat. When she whispered those words that desperate, beautiful command to take it Bunny felt a flicker of something primal stir beneath his calm exterior. It was the first time his composure truly cracked, a widening of his pupils that betrayed the hunger he usually kept so carefully veiled.
"As you wish," he murmured against her lips, the words a dark vow.
He didn't hesitate. With a slow, controlled thrust, he drove himself home, filling her with a sudden, overwhelming fullness that forced a sharp, gasping cry from her lungs. The sensation was absolute a collision of flesh and spirit that felt less like a physical act and more like a soul being claimed.
Bunny’s hands tightened on her hips, his knuckles white. He wasn't gentle; he was thorough. He moved with a rhythmic, punishing grace, each stroke designed to drive the breath from her body and the thoughts from her head. He watched her eyes roll back, watched the way her expression shattered under the weight of him, and felt a surge of something akin to worship.
"There," he grunted, his voice a low, gravelly rasp as he leaned forward to capture her whimpers with his mouth. "Forget the preacher. Forget the pews. Forget the world."
He picked up the pace, his movements becoming more urgent, more demanding, as the tension in the room reached a fever pitch. The rain outside was a roar, the shadows were long, and in the center of it all, Bunny held her as if she were the only holy thing left in a dying world.
"Just me," he commanded, his breath hot against her skin as he neared his peak. "Only me."
A strangled, high pitched sound tore from her throat, half sob and half prayer, as his words hammered into her. Only him. The thought was a frantic, beautiful anchor in the sea of sensation he was forcing upon her. She arched her back, her fingers tangling desperately in his hair to pull him even closer, wanting to be crushed by his weight. "Yes," she gasped, her head lashing against his shoulder as the tension in her core tightened into an unbearable, shimmering knot. "Only you, Bunny... please, more..." She looked up at him through a haze of tears and blown out pupils, her expression one of total, shameless ruin. "Break me... make me yours so completely that there’s nothing left of the girl who walked in here."
The request was a sacrilege, and Bunny met it with the fervor of a man answering a divine calling.
Her words break me seemed to snap the last thread of his restraint. The calm, composed preacher’s son vanished, replaced by something much more ancient and unyielding. He leaned into her, his chest crushing against hers, his weight pinning her into the wood of the pew as he drove into her with a sudden, fierce intensity.
"Then let her die," he rasped, his voice stripped of its usual softness, sounding raw and hungry. "Let her go."
He was no longer just moving with you; he was consuming you. Every thrust was a claim, a heavy, rhythmic punctuation to the silent prayers of the empty church. He watched her ruin with a gaze that was almost terrifying in its focus, seeing every tremor of her muscles, every frantic twitch of her fingers, and every tear that escaped her lashes. He wanted to witness the exact moment her old self crumbled, replaced by the woman he was carving out of her.
The friction was intense, a searing heat that seemed to burn through the very air between them. As the climax began to roll over them like a storm tide, Bunny’s grip on her hips became bruising, his fingers sinking into her skin to keep her from drifting away from the sheer force of the sensation.
"Look at me," he commanded one last time, his voice a desperate, low growl as he felt the coil within him finally snap. "Don't close your eyes. Watch what you've become."
With one final, punishing surge, Bunny drove himself deep, his body tensing as he poured his heat into her, a heavy, pulsing release that felt like the final shedding of every secret he’d ever kept. A dark, breathless grin flickered across his lips a rare, unholy sight as a flush crept up his neck, his eyes hooded and wild even as he let out a long, shuddering exhale against the sensitive skin of her neck. For a moment, the only sound in the vast, dark sanctuary was the ragged, synchronized rhythm of their breathing and the relentless, cleansing rain against the stained glass.
He didn't pull away immediately...
staying anchored to her as if he were afraid the world might try to reclaim her if he let go.
His forehead rested against hers, his heart thudding a heavy heartbeat against her own, the silence between them thick with the weight of their beautiful, quiet devastation.
