Looking back and reflecting through prayer and journaling, Steve realizes it was his fault.
The long looks that could have easily been interpreted as yearning, the unsuitable timing of said looks, the tone in his voice when he knew for a fact it was Bucky on the other side of the confessional and he did nothing to shift said tone of his voice to a more appropriate one.
It’s his fault and he’s admitted it. He’s spent his evenings praying—begging— for forgiveness, spent his nights on his knees until they’ve been left bruised, ruined the pages of his Bible from the tears he’s wept over it.
None of it has come close to quelling the consuming feelings he has for Bucky Barnes.
Bucky Barnes has ruined his goddamn life. He’s made Steve question his purpose, his past, his life, his future.
Everything. He’s ruined it all.
But Christ, Steve can’t stay away.
The feeling he receives from being the reason such a beautiful being cries from pleasure or otherwise make him feel like—
Like God.
Like God.
Steve was horrified when Bucky dropped to his knees in front of him in his office that fateful evening, couldn’t believe his eyes when Bucky began to weep and grab at the obvious bulge at his crotch and fist at his hair.
“I don’t know what to do, Father. It hurts. It has to be a punishment for the things I can’t stop thinking about. Please, help me. Please…”
Steve may have been possessed.
When he reached for Bucky, out of his own mind and unable to grasp reality or his purpose, he knew the moment his fingertips came in contact with the moist skin of Bucky’s cheek he was about to enter into a world of inevitable and eternal damnation.
“Tell me where it hurts, son. Tell me what you think about.”
An entire life dedicated to God couldn’t stop his own traitorous cock growing so full, so painfully fast that he nearly doubled over when Bucky uttered the words—
“I can’t stop thinking about y-you, Father.”
And then Bucky had shuffled forward on his knees, letting out a pitiful noise with each jerky movement, and pressed the bulge of his crotch against Steve’s shin, through his robe.
Lucifer was described as beautiful, the seal of perfection. He was an angel before he was cast out.
Bucky is Steve’s personal Lucifer.
“I want to know everything you think about. You kneel here and tell me. I will help you, my son.”
Steve had never heard such filth, such utterly disgusting filth:
“I can’t look at you without getting hard. I look at you and I want to let you inside of my body, want to put you in my mouth. I come to service and look at you and listen to you and get so hard I have to go to the bathroom to…to touch myself. I’ve never done anything, nothing– I swear I’m a good boy. But I look at you and I want to be so so bad, Father. What am I supposed to do? How do I…do I stop feeling this way?”
It was seeing the young man’s tears that made Steve feel the most arousal, he realized. Not that Bucky was sobbing as he spoke and practically humping Steve’s leg; it was the tears. How beautiful he was when he wept before Steve, on his knees.
Steve reached for his rosary the moment he came back to his body enough to realize he too was hard.
“You must repent, Bucky,” he heard himself say, tone hushed and reverent. “You must ask for forgiveness.”
And God damn him, God damn him, he closed his eyes as he laid his hand in Bucky’s hair, softer than silk, and whispered, “You must give into temptation to be forgiven in full…”
Steve never stood a chance against being faced with his own temptation.
Neither did Bucky, it seemed.
Weeping while he rubbed his erection against Steve’s leg was nothing compared to weeping with his mouth stretched lewdly around Steve’s cock.
Steve had not once felt pleasure like this in his life, had never come close to experiencing something of such bliss. Feeling the inside of Bucky’s mouth, his tongue, was otherworldly.
His pleasure growing tenfold hearing and watching Bucky struggle to take him, to suck on him, made him question whether or not he was made for a secular life instead.
Steve prayed for their two souls anyway.
“God the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son…”
Bucky sobbed and sputtered, gagged and sucked, whimpered and sniffled.
“...has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins…”
When Bucky’s hands came up to grasp Steve’s hips, when he leaned forward to shove Steve further into his mouth as if he were starving and desperate, Steve fisted the hand that held onto the rosary into his hair, holding Bucky in place as his hips took on a mind of their own.
“...through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace…”
Bucky’s sobs blended with moans as Steve fucked his mouth, noise so sweet Steve closed his eyes once more to memorize the noise of it.
“...and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit…”
Steve’s last bit of self-control was used to not let out a ferocious groan as he came down Bucky’s throat, teeth gritted as he forced Bucky’s mouth further down on his cock, until he felt Bucky’s tongue on his balls.
“Amen…”
It pulled Steve back to reality, that amen. He shoved at Bucky’s shoulder, pushed him back and away from his still-twitching cock, from his trembling body.
The sight of a dizzy and hungry Bucky, mouth slick with cum and lips and cheeks cherry red, rubbing pathetically at his crotch from the outside of his pants while crying out, “Amen! Amen!” as he obviously came in his pants on the floor of Steve’s office is an image that will be branded in Steve’s brain until the day he sees the pearly gates.
That’s if this doesn’t send him to Hell instead.
Bucky leaned down then, pants wet and still sniffling, and pressed his lips against Steve’s shoes. His feet.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Eddie,” Steve interrupts Eddie’s whirring thoughts like he wants to reveal more.
“Well, I’m all ears,” Eddie responds, his heart pounding even harder than it was back in the kitchen. “I wanna know everything about you.”
Steve considers him as Eddie leans back, settling into a more comfortable position. A smile takes over Steve’s face.
“I guess since you’ve been so good lately, I can tell you a story.” After briefly closing his eyes and a soft, deep breath, he looks deep into Eddie’s eyes. “I haven’t talked about this in a long, long time. Very few people know this about me…”
Steve turns to religion after witnessing some fucked up shit when he was a teenager (i’m thinking barbara being killed in his pool, whether by supernatural forces or not), and he became a priest or something similar. Flash forward to now, he keeps getting visits (late at night, always) from this one weird dude in the confessionals. He never sees this person enter or leave the confessional. He doesn’t recognize his voice from anywhere. For all he knows, he’s going crazy and this person doesn’t exist. Ofc that dude turns out to be Eddie, who’s a demon, hellbent on annoying the fuck out of Steve at every chance he gets. He doesn’t want to cause any actual harm, but he just loves fucking with people (especially priests) and revealing the cracks in their religion. (yes this is also an outlet for some vague religious trauma because christianity and catholicism sucks in a lot of way)
If I hadn’t just started writing a different fic i’d start this right now ( ꒦ິ﹏ ꒦ິ )
chapter viii: Repentance
Age Gap | Priest!Steve | Sub!Eddie | E
Read on AO3
Making the priest squirm is becoming a favorite pastime of Eddie’s. During Mass, he sits and stares and appreciates the angle of Father Harrington’s jaw and the shape of his mouth when he speaks and the flush of his face when he chances a look over at Eddie.
