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“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.”
Seven words are all it takes him to recognize the person sitting on the other side of the confessional. Even with the tight-knit grid shielding her face from his view, Lucifer would recognize her warm, sultry voice anywhere.
The irony of being a priest called Lucifer isn’t at all lost on him. Nowadays he mostly goes by Luce, hoping to be the embodiment of a guiding light for the members of his community like the name suggests, but it feels entirely too untrue whenever she enters his church to sit inside the wooden box across from him and confess her sins.
Chloe Decker had walked into his life on a balmy Sunday night while he was celebrating Mass, instantly catalyzing the attendees’ curiosity—and his.
He’d stopped in the middle of his sermon, giving her the attention she demanded with her piercing blue eyes staring directly into his soul, and he knew right then and there she would cause him eternal damnation.
Something had stirred awake inside of him at the sole sight of her. She was effortlessly beautiful, sticking out like a sore thumb in the sea of faces he’d grown to know in the short time since his arrival in his community in Los Angeles, but there was something different about her that didn’t have anything to do with beauty and appearance. When their eyes had met from across the church, he’d instantly felt like he knew her. They hadn’t even shared a word yet, but Lucifer knew without the hint of a doubt that there was something inside of her he recognized.
When he’d finally regained the ability to speak, he’d watched her spend the rest of the Mass at the far back of the church, almost shying away from the rest of the people sitting on the benches, but listening to him carefully. Her eyes had followed him around the whole time; Lucifer had felt them burn holes all over him, making it almost impossible to concentrate on anything else that wasn’t that beautiful woman with honey blonde hair pulled up in a tight bun and skin so fair it almost looked transparent.
She’d stayed behind even during communion, and he’d briefly wondered if maybe she wasn’t a person of faith at all. She didn’t look like a tourist wandering aimlessly through L.A.’s suburbs only to casually end up inside a small church to take a peek at the architecture. When he looked at her, Lucifer saw someone with a purpose, even though maybe a bit lost.
Only when everyone had gone away and he’d been left alone to clean up the altar, had she dared approach him to ask to be confessed by him. She had been very respectful, stating she was new to the whole Christian thing and was trying to figure out whether she could be a believer or not, but wanted to learn and needed some guidance. Someone at her job—she was a detective, he’d come to learn—had suggested his church, assuring her that, even though his name was quite unusual, he was a great man of God and could guide even the most lost of souls.
I can deal with this, he’d told himself, not knowing exactly who he was trying to convince. She’s just a person who wants to learn about God and build faith. The fact she’s attractive and I can’t help but fantasize about getting her bent over in the middle of the church can’t stop me from bringing a stray lamb back to the fold.
Oh, had he been wrong. In hindsight, that was the first of many, many mistakes that would cost him his life as he knew it, but there was nearly nothing that could deter him from accomplishing his mission. As a priest, it was his duty to help those in need, and he couldn’t refuse just because of his carnal desires. If anything, fighting the attraction would only make his faith grow stronger, or so he’d thought.
But it wasn’t just his calling that prompted him to help her that very first day. Lucifer saw something familiar in her, a look of disorientation in her eyes he’d once seen when looking into a mirror for too long, a lost soul in every sense of the word.
He recognized that look. He’d been there before.
Lucifer had been adopted at age twelve, after being tossed to and fro from various orphanages and foster homes like he was a package no one wanted. The first time he’d seen a church, he was in swaddling clothes and only a few days old, left on the steps for whomever was to stumble upon him under the pouring London rain. Not even his biological parents had wanted him. He now knew whoever gave birth to him was probably far too young, or poor, or addicted to some kind of substance, to take care of him, but when he was a child not being wanted was the only thing that made sense. Why else would a parent abandon their infant child?
Apparently, all he’d been left with were a golden necklace with a small cross dangling from it and a crumpled piece of paper reading Samael in shaky letters. A nun had found him, blue and barely breathing from spending God knew how long out in the cold, and as soon as social services had arrived, he had been condemned to a life of trying to escape the adoption system.
His life should have been easier since the moment he was finally adopted, but it only got worse from there.
His adoptive father was a fervent believer—but only when it benefitted him—and gave all his children names from the Bible, convinced that it would shape their personalities and help them grow obedient and respectful. The truth was that the man was simply a manipulative narcissist who should have never been allowed near children, let alone raise ten orphans. The only thing he knew was control and fear and how to punish them when they even dared breathe in his direction.
His wife, the woman Lucifer still calls Mum to this day, was kind and generous, but unfortunately chose to be with a man who was nothing more than a monster and did nothing about it. She chose to be a silent bystander to all of his terrible actions and, because of it, was at fault just as much.
But, as flawed as she was, his Mum at least made him love the name his adoptive father had chosen for him. She’d spend night after night telling him about the Archangel Lucifer, the one who’d lit the firmament, creating constellations and stars so bright they could light the whole universe, making him feel special, making him feel loved for the first time in his life.
Still, that wasn’t enough. The love that woman was able to give him couldn’t overshadow the abuse he had to endure on a daily basis. Lucifer grew up resentful, hating his father with everything he had within himself, to the point he did the one thing one with his name could do—rebel.
Nomen Omen, some could say. He was the living proof of that.
He did it all. It was small things at first, like skipping school and smoking a few cigarettes in the girl’s bathroom where he’d end up losing his virginity to a girl named Eve who was three years older than him. Then the alcohol followed and, as soon as that was not enough to dull his pain anymore, the hard drugs followed.
By the time he was twenty he was living in a penthouse and doing drugs with daddy’s money, sleeping with a different man or woman—or both at the same time—each night. They didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. By the time his latest conquest had walked out the door, he’d already forgotten their name.
He was the black sheep of the family, but a sheep nonetheless, and as long and he made a point to attend church on Sunday and go to family dinner once a month, he was sure to have a big fat check to spend however he pleased. The only thing Lucifer loved about the asshole who liked to call himself his father was the money he provided.
So he went on like that for years, entertaining himself with wild parties and copious amounts of booze and drugs, letting a different stranger warm his bed each and every night without fail. And even though he didn’t believe in God at all, he still kept on showing up for Mass when he was supposed to, like the rest of his brothers and sisters, knowing it was all for the money.
That was, until one fateful night.
Delilah was an aspiring singer who wanted to make it big and move to Los Angeles one day. She was good with lyrics and had the voice of an angel, but had a terrible taste in men and was addicted to cocaine. Lucifer had both the looks of a bad boy and the drugs to lure her into his bedroom, but something had been off about the whole situation from the get-go. His gut told him something awful, something irreparable, would happen if he slept with her, but Lucifer didn’t listen to it. He didn’t care about the consequences.
That night, Delilah overdosed on the floor of his penthouse. She died in his arms, and the sight of her lifeless body shook him to the very core. Not because it was gruesome or tragic, but because, as she died, Delilah looked the most peaceful he’d ever seen her. It was as if, in that moment, she was finally free from all the awful, filthy things of this world and she could finally rest.
Lucifer didn’t want to die like that. He didn’t want his one moment of peace to be the one in which he closed his eyes forever. He wanted freedom, but while he was still alive.
Days later, he’d found himself in a church, this time actually wanting to be there. He didn’t have anywhere else to go. He felt lost, as if he’d spent his entire life without a direction only to realize it too late. And when, for the first time in forever, he’d spoken to God, Lucifer had felt heard and understood, to the point he’d kept on returning every day just to have a moment of calm and clarity.
Getting clean was tough. He’d been an addict for so long, he didn’t know how to function without the drugs anymore, but God was there every step of the way, even when he fell and relapsed. Eventually, he’d learned to accept how flawed he was and to take sobriety one day at a time, ultimately overcoming his demons.
Entering seminary was almost the natural progression of his spiritual journey. He felt the need to help the people around him who struggled just like he had in the past, knowing first-hand what it meant to be saved by faith. He wanted to take whatever he had to offer and give it to the lost souls he’d encounter on his path, and maybe as a priest he could do that.
He’d found the perfect spot in a small community in Los Angeles, far away from his grey London, but feeling somehow drawn to it. The constant pull towards this particular city was one he never truly understood, mostly attributing it to Delilah’s wish to live there one day, until the moment Chloe Decker set foot inside his church.
She was the reason why.
In an instant, everything was suddenly clear to him. God had put her in his path so he could be the guide she needed, and possibly to test him in the process. If this was God’s will, who was he to question it?
That night, Lucifer took her first confession.
Chloe told him a bit about herself, explaining her job and how she’d ended up looking into religion after she’d miraculously survived being shot while her partner at the time hadn’t made it. She’d still been badly injured, resulting in a few days of coma in which she was sure she’d been trapped somewhere, forced to relive the moment of her colleague’s death over and over, unable to help him, unable to save him. When she’d woken up, she hadn’t been able to shake the thought of what she’d seen, no matter how much her ex-husband and daughter tried to reassure her. She was adamant she’d been to Hell.
Lucifer had no clue what Hell looked like, yet, for some reason, her vivid description of endless, repetitive torture made an incredible amount of sense. He couldn’t be a hundred percent sure she had actually been to Hell and back, but he knew for a fact she wasn’t lying, and made it his mission to help her heal her soul so that, when her time really came, she would never have to experience that for the rest of eternity.
He truly believed he was meant to meet her for that exact reason. That had to be why. But as the days passed and her visits became more frequent, something shifted between them.
He felt a strange sense of anticipation coursing through him the closer it got to the moment of the day in which she usually showed up next to the confessional. It got to the point where Lucifer would constantly check his wristwatch every ten minutes, waiting for her to finally walk through the door. And when she did and her long legs clad in skin-tight jeans came into view, soon followed by the usual shirt and leather jacket combo, and her soft smile greeted him, his heart inevitably skipped a beat. She’d confess to whatever sin she thought she made, he’d give her the right penance, and then they’d spend some time talking face to face, sitting in one of the booths at the back.
In the beginning it was all related to religion, until it wasn’t anymore. Bible verse discourse became a chat about favorite movies and music tastes, advice on her path towards faith slowly morphed into jokes, then flirting.
He tried not to. Lucifer put all of his effort into not slipping back into the persona he used to be when all he cared about was a good shag, but when she sat close to him and casually let her thigh touch his, he lost all sense of what was supposed to be right and wrong.
When Chloe smiled, he felt his chest constrict. When she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and bit on it, he wanted to coax it free and slide his tongue in instead. When she crossed her legs and casually tightened her ponytail, he wanted to push her thighs apart and bury himself deep inside of her.
And when she left, each passing night at a later hour after talking to him like he was an old friend, Lucifer would stumble into his apartment drunk on her and hard as a rock.
No amount of cold showers could ever keep his desire for her at bay. He’d tried—God only knew how much he’d tried—but nothing made his arousal go away. The only thing that seemed to work, at least until he saw her next time, was wrapping his hand around his cock and giving in to the temptation, if only just in his fantasy. There, inside his own mind, he could have her whenever he wanted, however he pleased, in every position imaginable. It was still a sin, he was aware of it, but as much as he was a man of God he was still a man nevertheless, made out of flesh and blood and instincts and desires, all of them screaming their need for Chloe Decker.
On the other hand, she didn’t seem to be immune to him either. She’d flirt back just as much, and laugh a little too brightly at his jokes, and lean closer to him until there was not much personal space left between them. Lucifer was young and attractive—too attractive to be a priest, she’d once told him—and he was well aware of what kind of effect he had on women and men alike, yet he knew there was something else drawing her in. After all, he didn’t just like her because of the way she looked.
Chloe was brilliant, kind, caring. She could light up an entire room by just walking in, and had a smile so infectious no one could ever resist it. And, when it came to her job, she gave her whole self to the cause, trying to be the best homicide detective the department had ever seen. Each new crime scene broke her heart, every victim stuck with her and took a piece of her heart forever, not letting her rest until they were granted justice. She was special and, for some reason, she saw something in him too.
But Lucifer couldn’t let it happen, no matter how much every fiber of his being longed for her touch. God had saved him, and Lucifer had chosen to devote his life to him and to helping people in need, to bringing light into the lives of the ones who only saw darkness anymore. Having her in his dreams would have to suffice.
Why did it sound like he was only delaying the inevitable whenever he told himself that?
“It’s been a day since my last confession.”
Chloe’s voice abruptly brings him back to reality, and Lucifer has to stifle a chuckle at her words. He’s told her there’s no need for confession every day, but she still does it no matter what. Maybe she finds some kind of comfort in it, in being allowed to let a little piece of her burden go each day, protected by the thin wall of wood between them. They never talk about anything she says outside of confession, as if she’s somewhat ashamed of all those little human things she finds herself doing despite her best efforts.
This time, though, something is different about her. Her voice is strained, almost cracking under some kind of anxiousness he can’t quite decipher. Through the grid, he can see her look down at her feet, her whole body tense, a muscle in her jaw pulled tight as she fights against something inside herself.
Lucifer doesn’t say anything, waiting for her to start listing her supposed sins as pregnant silence stretches between them.
She inhales deeply before speaking, her lips trembling as they move around each word. “I touched myself last night,” is all that comes out of her mouth, but those words may as well be Lucifer’s death sentence.
He hisses, as if her words are causing him physical pain when her voice travels straight to his groin. It awakens the fire she set ablaze the moment she entered the church on that Sunday night months ago and that lies dormant inside of him, waiting for her next visit.
Chloe is speaking again before he has time to form a coherent thought. “And I lied,” she begins, finally lifting her gaze to search for him through the small holes of the grill. “I wasn’t entirely honest in our previous confessions, because I didn’t do it just last night. I touched myself the night before as well, and the one before that, and so forth for months now. Every night I get home, I take my clothes off, and I make myself come until I fall asleep.”
Too stunned to say anything, Lucifer’s mouth opens and closes a few times as he tries to think of something—anything—that isn’t her naked body sprawled across her bed as she fingers herself until her climax leaves her trembling and beaded with sweat. Clearly, it doesn’t work. The mental image is enough to make blood flow to his dick, making him semi-hard in a fraction of a second.
He would be ashamed, but at this point even the purest of thoughts about her are enough to give him an erection. On most days, even glancing towards the confessional reminds him of Chloe and it makes his cock throb with unforgiving want.
Perhaps the fact that he knows he can’t, under any circumstances, have her is what makes this all the more enticing. Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s been celibate for so long he doesn’t even remember what it feels like to be touched by hands that aren’t his own.
Who is he kidding? She’s not the first one who’s tried to seduce him since the day he took the cloth. Many have tried, attracted by his looks, but no one has been able to make his faith waver the way a single glance in his direction from Chloe Decker has.
If only she knew what she’s capable of provoking in him.
Lucifer clears his throat, uneasy. “Chloe, you are a grown woman, and having carnal urges is very normal. I know scriptures can be very condemning about it, but you shouldn’t be ashamed,” he tries to reassure her. “God will forgive you.”
“Will he? Even if he knows who I’m thinking about when I do it?”
He can’t ask her who she’s talking about, but a sudden wave of jealousy overcomes him at the thought of whoever is capable of stirring something so powerful inside of her, to the point she feels guilty about pleasuring herself.
“It doesn’t matter,” he continues. “We’re all equal in the eyes of God.”
Hesitantly, she asks, “But what if it’s one of God’s servants I’m fantasizing about?”
It takes longer than it should for her words to sink inside Lucifer’s mind and start to make sense. He’s been fighting against his feelings towards her for what feels like an eternity, but the thought of them being reciprocated, even if just in a carnal way, never even crossed his mind.
In his eyes, Chloe is perfect. Yes, she may be flawed like every other human being, but there’s something about her that puts her above the rest of the people he knows, himself included. If anything, her previous lack of faith makes her all the more interesting, especially when he can see how much effort she’s putting into her religious path. And yet, for some reason, she still sees herself as a sinner.
Because that has to be the reason why she still comes to him after all these months, right?
“Chloe, I don’t—” he tries to say, but she interrupts him.
“I can’t stop thinking about you,” she breathes out, and it sounds like she’s admitting to the most depraved of secrets. Her chest rises and falls quickly with each sharp intake of air, hypnotizing Lucifer, rendering him immobile and unable to even breathe. “I know it’s wrong, but I can’t.”
If anything, all hearing her say that does is turn him on even more. Being the object of her desires awakens something primal in him, a sense of possessiveness he never thought belonged to him before this very moment. He likes that he’s infiltrated her mind just as much as she did with him. He likes it way more than he should.
“Even now, I…” Chloe trails off, squirming in her seat, uncomfortable, “All I can think of is how your lips would feel on mine.”
She moves again in the confinement of her booth, and it becomes apparent that something other than nerves is guiding her. She’s not simply fidgeting, riddled with anxiety; she’s rubbing her thighs together in order to alleviate the need pulsing in her core. She’d like to touch herself right now. The words that follow are confirmation enough of that.
“I can’t stop thinking about your mouth all over me. About how the grit of your beard would feel on my skin, and how perfectly your long fingers would fit around my throat. You’re constantly on my mind. How do I stop it?”
Lucifer doesn’t have an answer to that. If he did, he would have been able to get rid of the thought of her long ago. Yet she’s still there, lodged in the deepest part of his brain where she’s probably going to stay forever, an obsession he isn’t at all able to control.
He’s fully erect now, his cock straining painfully against his boxers and the fly of his meticulously ironed slacks. His shirt feels entirely too tight around his neck, making it difficult for him to even inhale. He’d undo the first button, if that didn’t mean taking off the clerical collar he’s wearing, a symbol of his devotion to God.
That is what’s stopping him from ripping the door of the confessional open and devouring her until she’s screaming with ecstasy, after all—the vows he took. This has to be a test sent from God to strengthen his faith and his devotion to the mission. Because, if that isn’t the case, this is pure torture.
This one, the confessional in which she finally admits all of her desires, has to be the ultimate test and then he’ll be free. It has to be that way because, if there’s more, he won’t be able to withstand it. He’s past his breaking point. All of his resolution is slowly but surely being eaten away by every syllable that comes out of her mouth, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can resist before giving in.
Please, God, give me strength, he thinks as he inserts two fingers in the slim space between his collar and his throat and tugs on it, giving himself room to breathe.
But, for some reason, this time it feels as if God isn’t listening to him at all. He’s completely on his own in this battle, in an empty church in which the only other person is the woman who has been clouding his judgment since the moment she appeared in his life. It doesn’t at all look like a fair war.
“What kind of penance does someone like me deserve?” Chloe asks him.
Oh, I can think of a few things, Lucifer can almost hear the morally depraved man he once was say.
The old Lucifer, the one who did drugs and fucked anything with a pulse, wouldn’t have wasted a second thinking about the right course of action, especially when a fully willing beautiful woman was quite literally offering herself to him. He’s not that man anymore. He refuses to be.
And yet, whenever she’s in his vicinity, he almost reverts to that man, guided by instincts and desires. He wants her more than he’s ever wanted anything or anyone in his entire life and nothing standing in his way seems to me insurmountable enough to stop him, not even being a priest.
“You are an amazing woman, Chloe,” he begins, trying to find the best way to let her down gently, while feeling like it’s the wrong thing all the way. “What you feel is… understandable. And I know it might not seem like it, but this too will pass.”
She shakes her head slowly. “No, I don’t think it will,” she argues. “This is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.”
“I understand, but—”
“Do you?” she presses on. “Do you ever think about me like I do you?”
All the bloody time.
Admitting to it would inevitably lead to more. He wouldn’t just stop at telling her he did in fact think of her, no. Lucifer would end up revealing just how addicted he is to her presence, to the simple thought of her, and that cannot happen.
As long as he keeps it all hidden, he can still save himself from eternal damnation, or at least this is what he’s been telling himself over and over again. It doesn’t even sound convincing anymore.
He wipes the sweat just below his brow with his middle finger before forcing himself to say something. His voice comes out strained when he finally speaks again. “I’m a man of God, Chloe. I’m a priest, and as much as the temptation is still there, we vow to keep it under control for a greater good.”
Once again, it’s himself Lucifer is trying to convince, to remind himself why he chose this path in life.
But how can he, when she makes his entire resolve crumble with the smallest glance?
“See, this I never understood,” she says, searching for his eyes through the grid. “Don’t you have needs as well? Isn’t it wrong to go against nature? After all, didn’t God make us this way?”
“It’s really not that easy,” is all he finds himself able to reply, struggling to keep the tremor in his voice at bay at the mention of his carnal urges.
Of course he has them. Lately, they seem to only focus their interest on her and all the ways he could make her scream without even getting inside of her.
She heaves out a sigh, her shoulders slumping under the pressure of what looks like guilt. “But if it’s supposed to be wrong, why does it feel so good when I do it?” she questions.
Her words slice through him like a knife, cutting him wide open, leaving him defenseless. She’s right. When he imagines being with her, not a single thing feels wrong about it. The guilt only ever comes later, when he forces himself to face the consequence even just the thought of her brings along.
She makes him lose sight of his mission, of his faith—she makes him lose control. And yet, no matter how terrible the consequences are, he doesn’t regret meeting her, talking to her, having Chloe in his life. She’s destroying all he believes in and he’s allowing her to do it because nothing feels wrong about whatever it is that they’re doing.
If God wants Lucifer to devote his whole life to him, why is he making it so difficult? Why is God allowing all those sinful thoughts inside his head? Shouldn’t God protect him from this all-consuming need for her?
“We can’t do this,” Lucifer mutters after a moment of silence in which he feels the last shred of his sanity slip away. There’s no resolve left in him. If she asks him one more question he’ll break down and let her do whatever she wants with him.
Maybe this is Hell—having to endure this burning need knowing surrendering to it will cost him everything.
A shrill, nervous laughter tumbles out of her lips as her gaze drops down to her feet. “God, I feel so stupid,” she mumbles, shaking her head. “It’s like I’m trying to convince you to sleep with me or something… What has gotten into me?” she asks, more to herself than him. “I shouldn’t have told you. I shouldn’t have come here at all. You won’t have to deal with me again, I promise.”
That’s enough to make something inside of him snap. The thought of never seeing her again is impossible to even fathom, and Lucifer knows right at this moment that he never stood a chance in the first place.
He’s been fooling himself all along, trying to convince himself he was strong enough not to cave in, but the reality is much different.
She had him at the very first glance.
Lucifer stopped being a priest the moment their eyes met and he simply became a man once again, a man who apparently belongs to Chloe Decker more than he ever belonged to God.
If the big guy up there wanted his undivided devotion, maybe he should have thought better than to put her in Lucifer’s path. Perhaps his plan, whatever it is, has been flawed from the beginning.
He’s out of the confessional and in front of her side of the booth before she can even stand up. He put his arms up, bracing himself with his hands on either side of the wooden box, almost like he’s trying to cage her and prevent a possible escape. Her gaze lifts to meet his, startled, but her pupils are wide, obscuring the ocean in her eyes, and glazed over with unmistakable want.
“Father,” she whispers, her voice hoarse with desire sending a shiver down his spine and making his cock twitch in his pants, “what are you doing?”
Father Luce is nowhere to be found. The man standing in front of her knows no God, no religion, but he’s pretty sure he can find his new faith between her legs.
His tongue glides across the seam of his dry lips slowly, calculatedly so. “Does it turn you on?” he demands. “Calling me Father?”
Her lips part ever so slightly as a silent exhale leaves her. Her pupils grow even larger, rapt by him and the desire she clearly can’t keep at bay anymore.
She looks so small and fragile as he towers over her at his full height while she sits looking up at him with her hands on her thighs, innocent-looking and harmless. If only she knew how much power she has over him. She quite literally has his whole life in the palm of her hand. One simple touch between them and she’ll destroy everything he worked so hard to build without a complaint from him.
Chloe’s teeth sink into her bottom lip. “What if it does turn me on?” she questions in turn.
When her eyes flicker from his face to the evident bulge in his pants, Lucifer knows there is no turning back anymore. He’s beyond saving. And, most importantly, he doesn’t care about the consequences. The whole church could go up in flames and he’d still fuck her in the middle of it, dying with the biggest satisfied grin on his face.
God can watch if he’s into it. If he’s constantly keeping an eye on them all, doesn’t that make him a little bit of a voyeur?
Hope you enjoy the show, Lucifer thinks as he briefly looks up towards the ceiling, grabbing the clerical collar tucked under his shirt and pulling on it to set it free before discarding it on the floor behind him, without as much as a glance back to it.
He’s on his knees in a second, leveling his face with hers until the tips of their noses are touching, his hands pushing her legs apart so that he can fit himself between them. She doesn’t show an ounce of resistance, letting him do whatever he pleases.
She wants this. It’s written all over her face, in the way her breathing picks up and her whole face flushes a lovely shade of pink right before she licks her full lips. She’s been waiting for this moment all along, just like him, and is done pretending otherwise.
“Lucifer,” she sighs, angling her face so that their lips brush against each other.
Unlike the other churchgoers, Chloe has never called him Father Luce. He’s always been simply Father during confession or in the hours spent talking about everything and nothing. Tonight, as she claims him, he’s just Lucifer.
He’s not a priest, not anymore. He’s a man who belongs to her and her only.
The groan that escapes his mouth the moment their lips finally connect is one of utter relief. It starts deep inside his chest, a low rumble that is ultimately set free when she kisses him and binds them together.
It feels like finally being able to breathe after being underwater for far too long. It’s like the sun warming up your skin in spring after months of unforgiving cold. She’s breathing new life into his lungs and, for a moment, he wonders if maybe she hasn’t been the real Goddess all along.
It doesn’t matter. She’s his new religion now, and he’ll spend the rest of his days worshipping her without reservation.
His tongue slips inside her mouth to find hers. They tangle together for what it feels like the first of a million more times just waiting to happen in the future, and as new and exhilarating as this sensation is, it holds some sort of familiarity to it.
They have already been here before. Maybe not in this lifetime or universe, but the two of them have definitely met somewhere else at some point in existence. It’s as if they’re drawn together by destiny. Did he honestly think he could ever be able to fight against fate?
Chloe moans against his mind, the sound only stocking the raging desire for her, forcing him into action. His hands move to quickly unzip her pants, yanking on them until her bare legs come into view, and she doesn’t waste any time before kicking off her boots to facilitate the undressing process.
A mischievous, satisfied grin spreads on Lucifer’s face when he finds the cotton of her panties soaked through with how wet she is for him, making him all the more eager to get a taste of her sweet cunt.
Even though they’re way past the point of no return, he still feels the need to stop and take a moment to make sure they’re completely on the same page. After all, having sex with a priest inside of a church doesn’t happen every day and he knows how overwhelming such a situation can be. It definitely is for him.
Lucifer leans back, allowing himself to look into her eyes. His voice is barely more than a whisper when he asks, “Are you sure you wanna do this?”
She’s nodding her head yet before he can even finish his sentence. “Please,” she begs him, her voice dripping with need to the point it almost sounds like she’s whining, “I’ve been wanting this for so long. Please, Lucifer.”
Her plea makes goosebumps break all over his skin. He’s never been more aroused by a woman begging him to fuck her in his entire life. He’s seen it all, done anything his mind can think of, but the image of her eyes glinting with desire, her legs apart as she waits for him to put her out of her misery is the most erotic thing he’s ever witnessed. It’ll be burned in his memory forever, he can already tell.
His index fingers move at either side of her hips, sneaking under the elastic band of her panties to pull them down with impossible slowness, watching the fabric run across her bare thighs and past her knees. When the little piece of garment is fully in his hands, he lifts it up to his nose, inhaling the scent of her arousal for the first time.
It’s the most intoxicating smell he’s ever come across. Just by this one single hit he can already tell he’ll get completely hooked to it.
If she is the drug in question, he’ll gladly get addicted to it.
Chloe leans back, placing her shoulders on the smooth wooden wall behind her as a way to gran him better access to her glistening wet sex. He’s so hard and ready he could easily take his cock out and drive inside of her in one thrust, but he wants to take his sweet time with her, savoring her like she deserves.
He places both palms on the back of her thighs, hoisting her legs up until her knees are touching her chest, exposing her even further to him. Her pussy opens up to him, her slick folds inviting him to dive in, to taste her. He can do nothing but oblige, diving forward with his head to bury his face between her legs, his tongue darting out to lick the path from her entrance to her clit once, twice, three times before he concentrates on the bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex.
The cry that comes out of her mouth is one of utter ecstasy and liberation. It stems from months of pent-up sexual tension and flirting and feelings they kept on pushing down but to no avail. It was always a question of time before they both inevitably snapped. Fighting against their attraction had only served to make the need for each other grow exponentially and, now that they’re finally giving in, it’s all the more gratifying.
She tastes way better than he ever imagined, something feminine and some kind of floral soap, like sin and heaven all wrapped into one.
He’ll go to Hell. He’ll end up in Hell just because of this moment and he’ll go there willingly if it means getting to eat her out for the rest of his life. This is where he wants to die, right between her toned thighs.
“Oh, God, yes!” Chloe hisses as he pulls her clit between his lips and sucks on it, then releases it with a soft pop.
It’s at least ironic that she’s calling out to God while he’s got her sprawled for him inside a confessional, yet something about how absurdly profane this whole situation is turns him on all the more. They’re desecrating this holy place, so why does it feel like they’re actually blessing it with their union?
If God minds so much, he can send a sign.
And for a moment Lucifer expects something to actually happen, for the flames of damnation to incinerate him or for the floor to open up beneath his knees, yet everything stays exactly the same. Maybe God really does like watching.
As she gets closer and closer to her climax, her legs squeeze his head a little, almost trying to bring him nearer and exactly where she wants him.
There’s nothing shameful about this, about the way the two of them want each other more than they want grace or an afterlife in Heaven. If anything, this is exactly how he imagines Paradise feels. Why would he spend the rest of his life striving to be someone perfect and saint-like without her, when he can have Heaven right here on Earth?
When she comes, it’s his name she repeats like a chant. Lucifer watches her come undone under his mininstations, knowing he’ll never be able to find anything more beautiful and inherently erotic.
If he’ll have to give up God for her, so be it.
Chloe is still trying to come down from her orgasm when she shoves her fingers through his hair and tugs on it to bring him face to face with her. Their lips crash together in a messy kiss, all tongues intertwining and teeth clashing, her wetness still coating his lips and chin mingling with their saliva.
How can something so sinful taste so divine?
And then, she takes full control. In all honesty, it feels as if she always had it, right from the start, but now she’s the one springing to action.
Her hands dive down to find the button of his trousers and pop it open before moving to the zipper, dragging it down with one swift motion. Then she travels back up his body, pushing on his chest and forcing him on his feet as she stands up as well, only to turn him around so that he’s the one next to the narrow seater. Chloe doesn’t waste any time before shoving his pants and boxers down to his ankles in one go, allowing his erection to finally escape the confines of his clothes.
Her slim fingers wrap around his girth, starting to move up and down his shaft at just the right speed, applying the right pressure, as if she knows exactly how he likes it.
When she looks into his eyes, eyelids still heavy from pleasure, she slowly shakes her head as a small smile starts curving her lips.
She can’t believe this is truly happening. Lucifer can’t either. He thought she’d forever be stuck in his fantasy, but the scenarios he created inside his own mind didn’t do her justice.
“I bet you taste amazing,” she whispers to him as her hand pumps his cock faster. “You have no idea how many times I’ve pictured sucking you off while you took my confession.”
The admission makes him grow even harder, if possible. Lucifer follows her movements, bucking his hips and thrusting into her hand, chasing the unbearable pleasure she’s able to give him.
He hasn’t been intimate with anyone in a long time, but he doesn’t remember ever feeling at someone’s mercy quite like he is with her right now.
“But right now I really need you inside of me,” she concludes, making him recede until the back of his legs hit the seat and he is forced to sit down.
Chloe goes to straddle his lap, rising with her hips above his just enough to align her dripping entrance with the engorged head of his cock.
And then she stops. Her gaze locks with his just a fraction of a second before he’s able to slip right inside of her, but there’s no hesitation inside her eyes. She’s teasing him, driving him insane with anticipation.
It’s his turn to beg. “Please,” he croaks out, placing his hands on either side of her hips, grasping at her soft flesh as if his life depends on it. “Let me inside of you.”
She tips her chin down, her big doe eyes making her look so innocent even as she’s about to fuck him. “Are we going to Hell for this?” she asks, without a trace of real worry in her voice.
Despite himself, Lucifer grins, mischievous intent clear in his expression. “Oh, we definitely are, darling,” he replies, angling himself so that the crown of his cock is pushing inside of her. “But don’t worry. I’m sure you and I will run the place one day.”
With that, he drives home inside her tight pussy in one single thrust.
Chloe moans, letting her head fall backward as her eyes roll into the back of her head, overcome by pleasure. They easily fall into the perfect rhythm, fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle God himself created.
This can’t be wrong. Nothing in his life has ever felt more right than being buried inside Chloe.
Somehow, he knows, her love will save him, it will give him redemption.
Perhaps he’s going a little fast in allowing himself to call whatever they have love, but it’s the only word that makes sense, the only one big enough to contain the hurricane of emotions and sensations so new and inexplicable for him.
When she kisses him again, it’s much more gentle but still passionate, as if they both know they have all the time in the world. They won’t hide. They won’t keep this a secret. From now on he’s only devoted to her and the whole world needs to know it.
It takes minutes for him to get dangerously close to his release. Being inside of her, thrusting into her wet, tight pussy is far too overwhelming for him to hold off much longer. Not wanting to fall into bliss alone, Lucifer sneaks one hand between their connected bodies, finding her swollen clit to draw tight circles on it, faster and faster.
Her movements on top of him falter, growing uncoordinated the more pleasure builds inside of her. And when she does come, her inner walls contracting around him in a sweet, torturous manner, he follows suit, freefalling into the most intense orgasm of his life, her name leaving his mouth like the most sacred prayer.
Minutes later, as Lucifer holds her in his arms, naked from the waist down in a silent church, he knows for a fact his days as a priest are over. He can’t possibly keep lying to God, to the loyal members of this community who took him in from the first moment, but most importantly he can’t lie to himself.
Chloe is all he wants. She’s what he believes in right now.
“So, uh…” she mumbles, lifting her head enough to look him in the eyes, “Am I supposed to confess this too?”
He can’t help but laugh at her question. “You probably should, but not to me. I’m resigning first thing tomorrow,” he replies earnestly.
She leans back some more, worry creasing her forehead. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be the cause—”
Lucifer silences her protest by capturing her lips with his. When they part, he says, “I should have done it the moment I realized you were not getting out of my head anytime soon, Chloe. It’s my decision, and I’m fine with it.”
“When was that?” she questions, curiosity getting the best of her.
“The first moment I saw you.”
The smile on her face is contagious. And maybe they didn’t start this relationship in the most orthodox way, but deep down he knows everything will be okay.
When they’ll meet again next time, it will be out in the open, outside the walls of this church. Lucifer will be just a man, and Chloe will be just a woman, yet with something special blossoming between them.
And something tells him that God will bless this unholy union.