Sinner's Salvation: Chapter 2 (Ed Warren x Reader)
Masterlist Ao3
Summary:
[Ed Warren x Female Reader] [Ed Warren x You]
You don't believe in the supernatural and superstition. Witchcraft and demonic occurrences are nothing but quackery to you. But when the room starts spinning, days start blurring into each other and shadows start dancing in every corner you wonder what is wrong with you.
No doctor can tell you more about your condition - each and every one is insisting that you are fine and perfectly healthy.
Seeking alternative help, you stumble across Ed and Lorraine Warren. They promise to help you, rid you of the demon that has taken hold of you - to drive it out.
But you didn’t know what you signed up for and what an exorcism by Ed Warren entails.
OR:
Ed shows you how well he can possess your body - and your cunt
Wordcount: 12055
Chapter: 2/2 (Chapter 1)
Warnings: 18+, fingering, facefucking, unprotected sex, cream pie, breeding, dubious consent, spanking, improper use of catholic rituals, church sex, rough oral sex
A/N: Well, that’s my ticket to hell for defiling church stuff - if my soul can be saved I’d happily let Patrick Wilson exorcise me
Previous Chapter
CHAPTER 2
A weight settles in your chest as you gaze upon the imposing facade of the Warrens’ house. It feels surreal, as if the reality of being here now is a fragile dream.
In the glow of a well-lit yard, your attention is drawn to a chicken coop, complete with a nestled henhouse and a bustling assembly of a dozen or so chickens. The surroundings reveal a sizable and inviting house, adorned with the quaint charm of a small chapel adjacent to the garden.
After a moment’s hesitation, you press the doorbell, the sound resonating through the stillness. A few heartbeats later, Lorraine swings the door open, a beacon of warmth and smiles. A radiant figure framed by the doorway, her eyes alight with a newfound calmness that seems to have settled since the lecture. The weight of the outside world appears to have dissipated, replaced by a sense of ease that only home can bring. Her long brown hair cascades freely around her shoulders, a tangible reflection of the comfort found within these walls.
“Hey there! You made it,” Lorraine exclaims, her voice filled with genuine enthusiasm.
“Yeah, it’s... it’s really something,” you reply, still taking in the grandeur of the place as you try to calm your nerves.
Lorraine chuckles, seeing right through you: “Well, come on in, Ed’s waiting inside! I’ve got some fresh tea ready in the kitchen.”
The creaking wooden floor beneath your feet echoes when you step over the threshold. The air carries a timeless quality, and the scent of well-maintained woodwork envelops you, adding to the charm of the old house.
Glancing around, you observe the meticulous care evident in every nook and cranny. The cleanliness of the space speaks of dedicated upkeep, preserving the essence of the dwelling. The walls are adorned with a collection of pictures and paintings.
Upon closer inspection, you discover that the signature on each painting reads Ed Warren.
Lorraine notices your intrigued gaze and smiles, “Ed loves to capture moments and emotions on canvas.”
The images and brushstrokes weave a narrative of the Warrens’ interests, adding depth to the character of the house. Each stroke of the brush tells a story, and within the confines of those well-kept walls, and you can’t help but imagine Ed sitting in his studio, painting for hours. Would his brow furrow in concentration as his big hands paint such delicate things?
Lorraine leads you into the kitchen and you sense Ed’s gaze on you before you actually see him. Turning around, you find him seated at the kitchen table, a newspaper in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. His gaze is studying you intensely, magnified by the large glasses that obscure his eyes.
His eyes, perceptive and playful, travel down the length of your body before meeting your eyes again, a playful smirk gracing his full lips. The gesture leaves you flustered and shortly rendered breathless.
The room seems to grow warmer as you become acutely aware that Lorraine is watching your interaction, her keen eyes capturing the nuances of the unfolding situation.
Lorraine, her face still reflecting worry, chimes in: “We’ve been looking forward to having you here. Is everything all right? You seem a bit off.”
You attempt a reassuring smile: “Just a headache, nothing major. Must be the change in weather.”
But even as the words leave your lips, you sense they see through the facade.
“Well, we can't have our guest in distress. Perhaps a cup of tea will help ease that headache. Come, sit down”, Ed, ever perceptive, raises an eyebrow.
He rises from his seat with a deliberate grace, pulling a chair out with a courteous gesture. As you lower yourself into the seat, he subtly guides it in, his hands lingering on your shoulders for a moment longer than necessary. Through the thick fabric of your sweater, you feel the warmth of his touch.
“Make yourself comfortable, ” Ed says with a smile and a wink before walking away and sitting down opposite you, next to Lorraine.
Lorraine, with a caring demeanour, inquires further: “Have you experienced anything unusual lately? Dreams, strange occurrences, perhaps?”
You hesitate before answering: “Actually, there have been some strange dreams, and a few odd happenings. That’s partly why I took you up on your offer.”
Ed nods knowingly: “The supernatural has a way of making its presence known. We’re here to help, and we appreciate your trust in us.”
You delve into the details, your words weaving a tapestry of the dream’s vivid imagery.
“I..thought I was awake. I was sitting at my computer when I heard the sound of the front door opening. Given the day I had, I dismissed it as just another product of my imagination. However, curiosity got the better of me, and when I investigated, I saw that the door was open. I grabbed a knife from the kitchen and started to search the rooms. There was someone in the living room, I pleaded for them to leave, but... the figure charged at me. Without conscious thought, I stabbed the stranger. I was so disgusted and horrified by what I had done but… “
Lorraine listens intently, her eyes reflecting empathy. “Go on,” she encourages.
“But I reached for the knife lodged in the stranger's stomach and pulled it out. And I stabbed them again. And again. And I couldn’t stop. It was only when I removed the hood that I realised it was me, but not really me.”
As you recount the vivid dream that haunts your thoughts, tears well in your eyes and a heavy silence settles over the kitchen. Ed and Lorraine exchange a glance, their expressions turning serious, mirroring the gravity of your revelation.
Ed leans back, contemplating your words: “Dreams often manifest our internal struggles, the battle between conflicting emotions or aspects of our psyche. This self-inflicted act might be a symbolic attempt to confront and overcome a challenging part of yourself.”
Lorraine, her expression empathetic, adds: “They can be a mirror to our subconscious, reflecting what we might not be fully aware of during waking hours. Understanding their symbolism can be a key to unravelling the mysteries within. What emotions did you experience during the dream?”
You take a moment to gather your thoughts: “It was surreal, a mix of fear and confusion and just uncontrollable frenzy. It was as if I wasn’t myself. I feel - feel- so guilty…”
“It isn’t only the dreams, right?”, Lorraine looks at you as if she sees through you, “It’s also the headaches and the feeling of another presence?”
Lorraine's inquiry hangs in the air, and as she mentions the possibility of a lingering presence, a sudden surge of pain grips your head. Shadows dance in your vision, an unsettling display that feels akin to a lightning strike. Instinctively, you close your eyes, attempting to shield yourself from the overwhelming sensations.
Concerned murmurs from Lorraine and Ed surround you, their worry palpable. Ed, quick to respond, rises and kneels before you. His hand rests on your thigh, warmth seeping through, a comforting touch amid the storm within.
Despite the pain, there’s an unexpected allure in the strength of Ed’s presence. His voice, deep and reassuring, coaxes you to open your eyes. As you comply, the pain begins to recede, replaced by a sense of calm emanating from his reassuring presence. The room, once flickering with shadows, gradually steadies.
Ed, still kneeling, his gaze steady, asks gently: “Can you tell us more about this presence? Understanding its nature might be the key to understand these distressing episodes.”
Lorraine, her concern etched on her features, leans in: “We’ve encountered various entities in our work, and understanding their nature is crucial. Can you describe the feeling accompanying this presence? Any specific details or sensations?”
You take a deep breath, attempting to articulate the ineffable: “It’s like a heaviness in the air, a feeling of being watched even when I’m alone. Sometimes, there are fleeting glimpses of shadows, shapes that vanish when I try to focus on them. It’s been escalating, and with each occurrence, this headache intensifies.”
“It sounds like you're attuned to something beyond the ordinary. These manifestations might be a manifestation of psychic sensitivity, and we're here to help you navigate through it”, Ed’s hand still remains on your thigh, a grounding force.
As Ed’s hand gently leaves your leg, the warmth and reassurance it provided dissipated, leaving an emptiness that resonated within you. Rising from his previous position, Ed chooses a spot next to you.
Lorraine, sensing the shift in dynamics, delicately broached the subject, her concern evident in the furrow of her brow.
“Are you feeling alright?”, she inquires, her voice carrying a blend of empathy and curiosity.
You brush off the significance of Ed’s withdrawal with a nonchalant response: “It’s nothing, I'm fine.” Though the unspoken weight lingers in the air.
Undeterred, Lorraine leanes in, her eyes reflecting a genuine care. “We're here to help; you don’t have to face this alone”, she reassures, her words a lifeline in the sea of unspoken emotions.
As Ed subtly adjusts his position, and your thighs make contact in a dance of unspoken connection. In response, you press against him, not just to maintain the touch but to signify a shared sense of comfort and solace.
Turning your gaze towards Lorraine, you confess: “Perhaps you can offer a different kind of help, one that conventional medicine couldn't provide.”
“I wonder what is wrong with me”, you say, your voice carrying the weight of countless bewildering moments, “every day the room starts to spin, days become an indistinct blur, and shadows dance in every corner.”
Ed leans forward, his concern etched on his face. “That sounds disconcerting, to say the least. Have the doctors given any insights into these symptoms?”, he asks, his inquiry a testament to a genuine desire to understand.
A wistful smile flickers across your face as you respond: “Unfortunately, no doctor has been able to shed light on my condition. It’s baffling; they all insist I’m fine, perfectly healthy, while I feel like I'm unravelling.”
The frustration in your voice is palpable, a poignant reminder of the gaping disparity between the reassurances of the medical professionals and the persistent enigma of your symptoms.
Lorraine, sensing the gravity of the situation, speaks softly: “It must be incredibly challenging. But remember, we’re here for you, even if the answers elude conventional medicine.”
The sincerity in her words weaves a thread of comfort into the room, a fragile but genuine support in the face of the mysterious ordeal you're enduring. And for the first time since your headaches started you feel heard and seen.
Lorraine’s gaze holds a mix of understanding and curiosity as she asks: “Is that why you attended our lecture at the university? Searching for answers beyond what conventional medicine could offer?”
A subtle nod confirms Lorraine’s intuition.
As the ache in your head rekindles, Ed’s intuitive response is instant – a gentle press of his thigh against yours. A wave of warmth engulfs you, not just from the unexpected intimacy but from the acknowledgment of shared moments in this intricate dance of connection.
Turning your gaze to Lorraine, you find her eyes locked onto the point where your limbs connect. There’s a flicker of something in her expression, perhaps recognition or empathy, but certainly not discomfort.
“You may have encountered an inhuman spirit that gained possession of you”, Lorraine tells you gently.
Lorraine's revelation about a potential inhuman spirit leaves you perplexed, prompting Ed to provide clarification. His gaze, tinged with a grave seriousness, meets yours as he explains: “An inhuman spirit is something that has never walked the Earth in human form. It's something demonic.”
The weight of his words settles in the air, and a shiver runs down your spine as the gravity of the situation becomes palpable.
With a knot of uncertainty in your stomach, you ask: “What does that mean for me? What should I do?”
Ed's expression remains solemn, his response measured: “We need to investigate further, understand the nature of this entity. It means we’re facing a force that’s not bound by human constraints. Our priority is to help you, to confront and neutralise this inhuman spirit.”
“You’re not alone in this. We've encountered and triumphed over such entities before. Our combined efforts will guide us through this challenge”, Lorraine adds reassuringly.
Ed’s hand returns to your thigh, a gesture of comfort in the face of the unfolding supernatural challenge. The warmth of his touch, coupled with the gravity of the situation, evokes a subtle blush on your cheeks.
His gaze meets Lorraine’s, his hand a grounding presence on your leg as he proposes: “Lorraine, perhaps we should take her to the chapel.”
There’s a subtle acknowledgment in their shared look, an unspoken understanding that transcends the immediate situation.
You catch Lorraine’s eyes briefly flickering down to where Ed’s hand rests on your thigh. It is a short moment, but it doesn't escape your notice. Her agreement, when it comes, carries both assurance and determination.
A fleeting thought crosses your mind, wondering why Lorraine doesn't address the proximity and the tactile comfort Ed provides. It’s a realisation that, under different circumstances, such closeness might prompt a discussion. Yet, amidst the urgency of the supernatural situation, unspoken boundaries seem to blur, and you find yourself navigating a realm where the paranormal takes precedence over the ordinary.
_____
Approaching the small chapel nestled discreetly within the verdant grounds of the Warrens' estate, you find yourself captivated by its unassuming exterior. The façade, adorned with ivy and weathered by the passage of time, hints at the hidden sanctuary within. As you step through the entrance, a hushed awe envelops you.
The door, worn with the touch of countless hands seeking solace, opens into a world of quiet grandeur. The interior, a harmonious blend of history and reverence, embraces you with its inviting warmth. Your gaze is immediately drawn to the mesmerizing stained glass windows that adorn the chapel's walls. Each pane is a work of art, depicting scenes of profound spirituality with meticulous craftsmanship.
“Quite a sight, huh?” Ed remarks, his eyes reflecting the appreciation of someone intimately familiar with the mysteries of the divine.
Lorraine, her presence exuding a calm serenity, adds: “The colours in those windows are said to carry the essence of prayers and hopes over the years.”
The soft, diffused light that filters through these intricate creations casts enchanting patterns on the polished wooden pews below. As you move deeper into the chapel, you become aware of the ethereal dance of colors that paint the space. The sunlight, filtered through the kaleidoscope of stained glass, plays upon the floor, creating an ever-shifting mosaic that seems to breathe with life.
The wooden pews bear witness to the passage of time and whisper stories of shared prayers and quiet contemplation.
“Imagine the tales these pews could tell”, Ed says, running his hand along the polished surface, “Joys, sorrows, and moments of quiet reflection—each one etched into the wood.”
The flickering candles, arranged with deliberate care, add another layer to the sacred tableau. The flames dance in harmony, casting a soft, golden glow that kisses the air with a tranquil warmth. Their rhythmic dance is a silent hymn, echoing the sacred stillness that envelops the chapel.
“These candles”, Lorraine observes, “they’ve witnessed the power of faith. Lighting a candle is like sending a silent prayer into the universe.”
The air itself seems imbued with reverence, carrying the intertwined scents of aged wood and the lingering fragrance of consecrated incense.
You marvel at the intricate details that the chapel holds. The walls, adorned with religious artefacts and delicate carvings, hold a silent narrative of faith and devotion.
“This place is a testament to the enduring power of belief”, Ed comments, his eyes scanning the adorned walls, “Every detail speaks of the profound connection between the human spirit and the divine.”
The ceiling, an architectural marvel, arches gracefully overhead, creating a sense of sacred space that transcends the confines of the physical realm.
In this intimate haven, the union of soft light, vibrant colours, and evocative scents creates a sanctuary where your soul finds reprieve.
“It’s a place where the heart finds peace”, Lorraine says softly, her eyes reflecting the wisdom of a life devoted to the mystical, “A refuge for the weary soul, a haven for those seeking a moment of serenity in the tumult of life.”
Ed and Lorraine share a knowing glance, and with a gentle nod, they invite you to join them as they make their way towards the altar. The polished wooden floor echoes with a soft whisper as you follow in their footsteps.
As you approach the altar, the atmosphere seems to shift. The open space surrounding it exudes a sense of sacred gravity. The stained glass windows cast their intricate patterns of light on the altar, creating a celestial backdrop for the ornate religious artifacts that grace the sacred space.
Ed gestures toward a beautifully crafted lectern, its intricate carvings catching the flickering candlelight.
“This is a place where many have stood to share words of solace and wisdom”, he notes, his eyes reflecting a deep respect for the sanctity of the spot.
Lorraine, with a gentle smile, approaches a small arrangement of flowers near the altar: “Sometimes, a simple offering of nature speaks volumes in this sacred space. It’s a reminder of the beauty that exists even in moments of reflection and prayer.”
The altar, adorned with sacred symbols and with candles, becomes a focal point where the convergence of faith and tranquillity is palpable. It's as if the very air around it carries the whispers of countless prayers and the energy of contemplative moments.
“We find solace in these quiet moments”, Ed says, his voice a low murmur that resonates with reverence, “It's a place to connect with something beyond ourselves, to find answers or simply to be in the presence of something greater.”
With a subtle gesture, Lorraine invites you to stand beside them, facing the open space near the altar. The three of you share a moment of silent contemplation, enveloped in the sacred stillness of the chapel. The colors from the stained glass dance on the floor, the candles flicker in harmony, and the air carries the essence of aged wood and incense.
“It’s a sanctuary”, Lorraine whispers, breaking the silence, “A place where the soul can find peace and where the mysteries of the heart can unfold.”
Ed nods in agreement: “Sometimes, in the quiet of this chapel, people discover answers within themselves. It's a journey of the soul, a communion with the divine that transcends words.”
The timeless serenity of the chapel lingers as Ed and Lorraine turn to you, their expressions a blend of reassurance and understanding. Ed’s eyes reflect a genuine warmth, while Lorraine’s serene gaze seems to hold a depth of insight into the unseen.
“Are you ready?”, Ed asks, his voice carrying a comforting weight.
You meet their gazes and, with a nod, convey your readiness to partake in whatever profound experience they have in store. There’s an unspoken trust that bridges the ordinary and the extraordinary, connecting your presence in the chapel to something larger than the moment.
“Good”, Ed says, his voice a steady guide and his eyes locked on yours, “Kneel.”
You swallow dryly, shortly wondering if you understood him correctly. Ed, sensing your confusion just raises one eyebrow, a silent prompt urging you to comply with the task.
With a deep breath, you lower yourself to your knees on the polished chapel floor. The cool surface beneath you grounds you in the physicality of the chapel even as the atmosphere vibrates with unseen currents.
“Now”, Ed continues, his tone carrying a sense of purpose, “close your eyes and let the stillness of this place envelop you. Focus on your breath, on the quiet rhythm of your heartbeat.”
As you comply, the air around you seems to thicken with an almost palpable energy. The flickering candles cast a warm glow through closed eyelids, creating an inner landscape where the boundaries between the material world and the mystical blur.
Lorraine’s voice joins the symphony of the chapel’s sacred silence: “Imagine a connection between your heart and the energy of this place. Feel the threads of the unseen weaving through the fabric of your being.”
Ed’s voice follows, a soothing guide through this meditative journey: “In this sacred space, let your thoughts flow. Allow the chapel to become a vessel, a conduit for the energies that seek to guide and comfort.”
As you delve deeper into the meditative state, a profound sense of tranquility envelops you. The chapel, once a physical space, now feels like a bridge to the spiritual, a conduit for energies that transcend the ordinary.
“Open yourself to any sensations or insights that may come”, Lorraine encourages, her words a gentle prompting.
In the quiet of the chapel, with closed eyes and a receptive heart, you become attuned to the subtle shifts in the environment. The colors behind your eyelids seem to dance in response to energies unseen, and the air carries a charge that resonates with the sacredness of the moment.
As you open your eyes, the vibrant colors of the stained glass windows and the flickering candles greet you with renewed clarity.
“Pray the Pater Noster”, Ed instructs, his voice carrying a weight that transcends the confines of the chapel.
You take a deep breath before you start speaking, in an attempt to collect yourself. It occurs to you that you cannot recall the last time you had to recite the Lord's Prayer and you try your hardest to recall the correct wording from your memory.
As you commence the prayer, your voice resounds in the sacred halls of the chapel: “Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name; Thy kingdom come…thy.”
The unfamiliarity of the setting causes the recitation to stumble, and you find it challenging to regain the rhythm.
“Start again, focus on the words. Let the prayer guide your thoughts”, Ed, patient yet resolute, interjects.
You take a steadying breath and begin anew, the rhythm of the prayer echoing in the chapel’s confines. The flickering candles and the colored hues from the stained glass seem to respond to the spiritual endeavor.
“Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name; Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”
Completing the initial lines, you prepare to resume, but cast your gaze towards Ed.
You notice how his broad silhouette is bathed in the chapel’s ambient light, casting a soft glow on him and accentuating the contours of his features. A breath catches in your throat as you observe the ethereal quality that surrounds him. Mesmerized, you find yourself marveling at how the light plays upon his brown hair, creating an almost transcendent aura.
You open your mouth again to continue praying: “Give us this day our… Give us this day our”
The distraction broke your concentration and your words tumble once again, and Ed intervenes once more.
“Concentrate. Let the prayer flow through you”, he encourages, his voice a calming presence amid the challenge.
As you attempt the Pater Noster once more, the words still elude you, stumbling over your lips like an unfamiliar language. There’s a growing impatience in the air, and you sense Ed’s frustration.
“Start again”, Lorraine interjects, her tone tinged with impatience and a hint of anger at your perceived inability to concentrate. The pressure intensifies, and the chapel, once a sanctuary, becomes a stage for the inner struggle between the earthly and the supernatural.
“Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name; Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, thy…”
The failure to recite the prayer triggers a sudden escalation in tension. Without warning, Lorraine steps forward, her frustration boiling over. A sharp, echoing slap reverberates through the chapel as her hand connects with your face.
Stunned silence hangs in the air, the lingering sound of the slap contrasting sharply with the sacred stillness of the chapel. The unexpected act leaves a mark, both physically and metaphorically, in the unfolding drama of supernatural confrontation.
Stunned and cradling your cheek, you feel a wave of fear washing over you. The unexpected slap has left you speechless, grappling with the sudden turn of events.
Lorraine’s voice, now cold and impatient, cuts through the chapel's stillness: “Ed, it seems she has never been properly educated in the way of the Lord.”
The frustration in the chapel intensifies, and Ed’s resolve hardens.
“I’m gonna give you a proper lesson”, he declares, and Lorraine, in agreement, adds an air of authority to the unfolding scene.
Ed instructs you to get up, his demeanour leaving little room for hesitation. The chapel, once a sanctuary, now feels charged with an unsettling tension.
Ed's voice, though firm, holds an edge of frustration.
“This lesson is necessary”, he asserts.
Lorraine, her impatience palpable, adds: “We were hoping for cooperation, not resistance.”
He guides you up to the altar and positions you with a subtle push.
As you bend over the altar, the cold surface presses against your hands, and the weight of the situation becomes tangible. The shift from the warmth and camaraderie earlier to this stern lesson feels disorienting, leaving you questioning the motives behind this abrupt turn.
Despite the overwhelming tension and unease, a fleeting and disconcerting thought crosses your mind. In the midst of this unexpected turn of events, you find yourself reflecting on how, under different circumstances, you might have appreciated being in a situation with someone like Ed.
The complexities of the situation—his firm demeanor, the unexpected discipline, and the palpable energy in the chapel—leave you grappling not only with the supernatural but with a disconcerting undercurrent of conflicting emotions. The boundaries between the earthly and the metaphysical blur in this unsettling chapter of your encounter with the Warrens.
Surprised you let out a gasp when Ed hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants and just pulls them down, leaving you in your panties.
“What-?”, confusion taints your voice as you attempt to push yourself up, palms pressing against the smooth surface of the altar. Before you can fully rise, Ed’s strong grip seizes your neck, compelling you back down and firmly holding you in place.
Panic flickers in your mind, a whirlwind of thoughts racing to make sense of this unexpected turn. The cool surface beneath your trembling hands becomes a stark reminder of your vulnerability. Images of the chapel, once a haven, now feel tinged with an unsettling uncertainty. The rhythmic prayer that once echoed in the sacred space is replaced by a disquieting silence.
As you struggle to process the abrupt change, the grip on your neck tightens forcing you to lay completely flat.
Ed bows down, and you feel the warmth of his breath against your ear. Goosebumps rise on your arms as his proximity sends a shiver down your spine. The unexpected closeness heightens the intensity of the moment, leaving you momentarily breathless.
“Let this be a lesson to know your prayers”, Ed’s voice, low and commanding, echoes in the hallowed space.
As Ed speaks, you catch a familiar scent—his cologne, a subtle and intoxicating fragrance that lingers in the air. The scent envelops you, and for a moment, you're intoxicated by its familiarity. Somehow the combination of his nearness, commanding voice, and the alluring aroma arouses you. That whole scenario should not be that hot, you figure, but you can’t help feeling that way so you accept your fate and stop struggling.
Ed pulls back and loosens the grip on your neck, sensing your lack of resistance. As you catch your breath, you instinctively glance toward Lorraine, anticipating disapproval or concern in her eyes. To your surprise, her gaze meets yours, and you find something unexpected—approval and support.
Lorraine opens her mouth, breaking the charged silence, and says: “Start again.”
Her voice, though calm, carries a directive force that commands your attention.
“Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name”, you start, but panic begins to set in your bones as you speak. Your head starts pounding again, the weight of the situation pressing down on you.
Unable to ignore the rising distress, you stop mid-prayer and say: “Look, can I just go, please?”
In the charged silence that follows, you sense the disappointment radiating off Ed behind you before you hear the sound of his disapproval, a quiet clinking of the tongue.
Your heart pounds in your ears as you wait, the seconds stretching into an uneasy silence.
Just as you muster the courage to say something again, you feel Ed’s big palm connecting with your ass. The unexpected impact resonates through the stillness of the chapel.
Surprised you let out a loud yelp as you feel your ass burning from the slap. You cannot believe that Ed just spanked you for messing up the Pater Noster. Arousal pools low in your belly as you feel the warmth radiating of him behind you.
You notice Ed’s strong hand caressing over the just-hit place to soothe the pain. Part of you wants to say something, but you are completely overwhelmed by the unusual sequence of events.
“Start again”, Lorraine’s voice sounds clear through the chapel, and your head snaps up to look at her form. Lorraine looks at you expectantly, her gaze carrying an unspoken command. Overwhelmed and reluctant to face the potential repercussions, you submit.
“Our Father, Who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy Name; Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven”, you gulp nervously before continuing, “Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses…as… as”
As the words falter once more, Ed’s hand makes contact with your ass once again and you cannot fully surpress the whine that escapes your mouth. This time it feels like his fingers linger longer on the globes of your behind leaving a hot trace that makes you squirm involuntarily.
“Again”, Ed’s order cuts through your thoughts, his voice sounding more gravely and deeper as it resonates through the chapel and his hand still ghosts over your ass.
That should not be that hot you think, trying to rationalize the conflicting emotions. But you cannot ignore the warmth and dominance that Ed radiates behind you. You cannot ignore the way his hand softly kneeds the skin of your ass while he waits for you to continue.
The entire situation strikes you as bizarre, and you find yourself questioning the authenticity of the footage they showed at the university. No one explicitly mentioned an exorcism, but the proximity and personal nature of Ed’s actions leave you wondering about the true nature of the spiritual encounter.
Under any other circumstances you’d be very willing - downright happy - to fall to your knees for him, but here in a chapel that just feels wrong and out of place. And not to mention that he is married and Lorraine is watching you.
Ed withdraws the hand on your ass and steps back a bit, only keeping control over you by his other hand on your back. He denies you any further physical contact and a plaintive whine espaces you, yearning for more touch as you lie bent over the altar in the dimly lit chapel.
Your senses are dulled and shrouded by a curtain of pleasure as your head and mind are in a blissful silence.
Lorraine says something to Ed but her words become distant echos, lost amid the overwhelming sensations. You watch through a haze as she steps forward towards her husband, handing him a big, leather clad bible. Mesmerised you marvel at the way his arm and back flexes when takes the book.
In a tense moment, Lorraine’s voice cuts through the sacred air and you hear the words but cannot make sense of them: “Ed, it's time she learns her place. Give her ten, one for every commandment.”
He steps back behind you, and you feel him—the warmth and dominance his body radiates. And you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in.
“I want you to count and thank the Lord”, Eds deep and gravely voice sounds behind you as his hand caresses the skin of your ass.
Before you have time to properly process the words the cool leather of the Bibles makes contact with you ass. The force of the hit catches you off guard, a surprising jolt that resonates through your being. This was definitely the hardest he had hit you so far you think as you catch your breath.
Ed’s hand digs into you hip sharply and you remember his command from before: “One. Thank you, Lord”.
He makes a pleased low hum in his throat and smoothes over the hot skin before hitting you again.
“Shit… I mean: Two. Thank you, Lord.”
Ed continues to bring the bible down on your ass and you can’t help but imagine how he looks right now. You wonder if his carefully groomed hair has fallen out of place, becoming slightly tousled with single strands brushing his forehead. You wonder if he had to roll the sleeves of his arms up, fuck you’d do a lot of things to see the way his muscles tense whenever he brings the leather-bound book down.
Shamefully you admit to yourself that it turns you on immensely, arousal pools low in your belly and with every hit you feel yourself getting wetter.
After the sixth time Ed spanked you with the bible, you cannot help but squirm involved when his hand caresses the hot, raw and burning skin of your ass.
But rather than pulling away from his touch you lean into it, desperate for friction.
You hear Ed chuckle silently as his long fingers continue to stroke over your skin, causing goosebumps to form all over your body. When his hand ventures lower you suck in a breath and stop moving.
Painfully slow Ed lets his fingers wander lower until he reaches your clothed pussy. You are pretty sure that he can feel how wet you are, that you must have drenched the thin material of your panties.
It almost feels like humiliation to you when his hand ghosts over your pussy for a second before he drags one long, thick finger through your slit. The whine, you were not able to suppress sounds loud in the chapel walls as you push back against Ed, desperate to feel his hand on your cunt again.
“Maybe she's even further gone than we thought”, Ed's voice is rough and stained with something that you cannot place when he speaks to Lorraine, “she really seems to enjoy her lesson too much…”
A wave of humiliation surges through you, shame crashing through your veins and igniting a bright blush on your cheeks. Each word from Ed feels like he’s cast a spotlight on you, exposing your vulnerabilities to Lorraine.
But Ed interrupts any chance for you to dwell on your feelings, his hand tracing a path over your skin and returning to your cunt. He drags his finger roughly through your clothed slit, tracing the shape of your pussy before applying pressure to your clit.
You feel a hot throb inside you, spreading all through your veins as you involuntarily buck your hips into his hand and moan quietly before biting your lip to avoid making any more sound.
Ed leans in, bending over you, so his warmth is enveloping your back and the subtle pressure of his presence against your skin sends a wave of arousal through your veins. His hot breath grazes your ear as he speaks roughly: “Don’t you, slut?”
Your only response is to push back against him and whine as you hide your head in your hands. Contrary to your previous thoughts that he was completely unaffected you feel his hard cock straining against his pants on your raw ass. But the contact is only short lived because Ed pulls back from you.
“Try to cleanse her, Ed”, you hear Lorraine’s voice through the aroused haze that swirls around your mind.
Before you can wonder what exactly she means, Ed’s fingers have hooked on the waistband of your underwear, ripping the flimsy material off, making you gasp. The cold air of the chapel hits your wet cunt but instead of cooling you down it riles you up even more since you remember where you are - a holy place.
But there is nothing holy about you bending over the altar with your cunt and ass bare and yet it feels absolutely divine when you feel Ed’s fingers on your cunt without a barrier for the first time.
You feel the palm of his hand against your ass as he forms a V with his middle- and forefinger to enclose the other sides of your cunt. Ed rests his hand there for a moment, making your stomach flutter in anticipation before he closes them slowly and pulling back to the edge of your cunt.
Your clit throbs and you squirm on the altar, desperate for Ed to continue.
A strangled moan escapes your lips when he pushes his thick fingers between the lips of your pussy and spreads them, effectively opening you up. You are pretty sure that he can not only feel but also see your wetness glistening in the dim light of the chapel.
Ed’s thumb brushes against your neglected clit and you groan loudly as electricity shoots through you, making you arch your back into his hand.
All the desperate sounds you make and the way you buck against him does not make him go faster and you really want to curse him out - you want to be filled by him, you want his fingers and his cock. So when he finally pushes his middle finger in your cunt a loud moan along with a please escapes you.
The haze in your mind thickens, rendering you blissfully obvious to your surroundings. The only reality matters right now is Ed. His presence dominates your consciousness, eclipsing everything else, as if the world beyond him and his hands on you has faded into insignificance.
“So good for us, sweetheart. You’re doing so good, taking what I give you so well”, Ed rasps behind you, his voice strained with satisfaction and barely constrained self restraint.
He curls his fingers inside you and starts shallowly and slowly thrusting before he adds a second finger.
You whine at the stretch of his long fingers when he pushes them all the way inside your pussy and grinds his palm against your clit.
Ed’s fingertips graze over the sweet spot on the wall of your cunt and your knees buckle under you as a wave of pleasure washes over you. With a dark chuckle he repeats this motion again and again while his palm steadily rubs your clit.
The distant echoes of Lorraine’s footsteps lingers off the edges of the fog in your mind as she approaches her husband. Yet, your concentration remained unwaveringly fixed on Ed and his long, thick fingers that are buried in your wet cunt.
A subtle jump courses through you as you feel something small with delicate round beads on your clit. Ed rubs it around the nub and you feel every cool and smooth ridge touching you as his fingers continue to thrust and rub deep inside your pussy.
“Shit Ed, please”, the words escape as a desperate plea, your voice raw.
Your cunt throbs and pulses to the rhythm of his hands on you and inside you as wave after wave of pleasure slowly builds up your orgasm.
“Be good and cum all over my fingers and Lorrain’s rosary. Let us cleanse you”, Ed’s warm breath against your sensitive skin sends shivers down your spine.
When the wave of pleasure shatters and courses through you, you cum for him with a loud moan that echoes off the chapel walls. Your back arches into Ed, who keeps finger-fucking you through your high, your hips grinding frantically against his hand, desperate for him.
Your breathing is ragged and loud when you come down from your high and your senses slowly come back to life, your cunt still tingling with the warm aftermath of your intense orgasm.
“Good girl, you did so well”, Ed praises you and pulls his fingers out with a wet noise before wiping them against your inner thigh.
Ed presses himself against you from behind, his closeness is palpable as the warmth of his body surrounds you and you feel the hard outline of his dick on your ass again. Instinctively you press back against his bulge, making him groan and suck in a breath.
He digs his fingers into the soft skin of your hip, a hidden warning for you to behave when he dangles the rosary in front of you. A belated realisation dawns in your mind - this is Lorraine’s rosary, this is what you felt dragging around your clit and wet cunt just minutes before.
A pang of shame courses through you as your eyes catch the sight of the rosary beads glistening with your wetness in the chapel’s light.
“Clean them”, Ed commands, his voice a low murmur that echoes through the church, laden with a mixture of authority and desire.
Without a hint of resistance, you comply with Ed’s command, opening your mouth and letting him guide the beads between your lips. Your tongue traces a path along the wet rosary beads as you taste yourself on them. The whole act feels positively sinful and you can’t help but feel more aroused, involuntarily you clench around nothing.
When you accidentally lock eyes with Lorraine, you freeze for a short moment. You had almost forgotten that it was not only Ed and you in the chapel but that his wife was also there. Your entire focus had been consumed by Ed and his commands and presence.
But contrary to what you would have expected Lorraine does not look angry, her emotions are unreadable but undeniably intense as she cocks an eyebrow, prompting you to continue your work.
A blush of humiliation sears through you and the burning sensation in your cheeks intensifies as you start cleaning the rosary beads again under Lorraine’s watchful gaze.
“Ed”, Lorraine starts, her eyes still locked on yours, “I don’t think it worked. Something still grips her.”
Ed withdraws, but he trails his hands and the rosary over your back, making sure to touch as much as possible before he straightens. Still bent over the altar, your legs wobble and feel unsure, making it impossible for you to get up. Yet, you don’t want to leave.
There is only one thing that you are currently sure of wanting and that is Ed.
“I think you’re right, hon”, Ed’s gravelly voice acknowledges, heavy with desire.
Lorraine walks over to her husband and you turn your head to look at them. As they stand together in the muted ambiance of the chapel, you catch glimpses of their exchange. She leans into Ed’s direction and speaks to him, her hushed words elude you.
Uncertain of the decisions the Warrens’ made in their whispered exchange you find yourself indifferent when Ed seizes your hair and pulls you to your feet from the position over the altar. He places his other hand on your hip, gripping in firmly to stabilise you as his thumb traces calming circles on your skin.
After a few moments you find your footing and Ed’s hold on your hair eases, allowing you to turn around and face him.
Purely on instinct, you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, an unconscious response as your gaze locks onto Ed. He embodies what you imagined - but the reality is so much better.
His short hair is slightly dishevelled and frames his face. A lone strand has fallen onto his forehead, resting there. A subtle blush tinges his neck, visible where the top buttons of his dress shirt are undone, exposing a glimpse of his chest. The soft blue of his eyes is almost entirely engulfed by blackness, revealing the depth of his desire.
Your attention descends to his arms, where you notice he’s pushed up the sleeves of his shirt, unveiling toned forearms.
His gaze locks onto yours and you notice the hunger and intensity burning in his eyes. Ed’s hands, strong and confident, cradle your face, their warmth seeping into your skin. As his lips descend, the initial softness gives way to a fervent kiss that depends, exploring the contours of your mouth with a tender yet insistent dance.
The kiss deepens and you instinctively wrap your arms around Ed, drawing him closer. Your hands find their places, one resting at the small of his lower back, while the other rests on his shoulder. You feel a canvas of strength beneath your fingertips, his muscles firm and well-defined. He pushes his clothed erection into your bare cunt, grinding against you. You whine into the kiss when the rough fabric of his pants scrapes over your clit.
As you part, you are breathless, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of Ed’s kiss and in a quiet and almost intimate gesture, your fingers trail over to gently push back the strand of hair that had fallen onto Ed’s face.
Ed’s face lights up with a radiant, toothy smile that seems to melt away any of your worries. In that moment, the intensity gives way to a genuine warmth that spreads through your veins.
When he leans in again, he places a kiss on your nose, causing a subtle fluttering in your chest to blend with a quiet contentment.
“Ed”, Lorraine’s voice cuts through the intimacy with a sharp edge, “Remember why we are here.”
His gaze shifts, the warmth fading as the reminder settles in.
“We can’t lose sight of our purpose”, he says, his tone carrying acknowledgement.
Despite Lorraine’s reminder Ed pulls you in one more for another linger kiss. The intensity of it feels like it has a direct line to your cunt. Pleasure that had been simmering is once again ignited into a full fire.
As the kiss concludes, Ed speaks again: “We should get back to work”.
Ed steps back from you, his words carrying a command that intertwines his authority and desire.
“Kneel again, be good for us”, he instructs, the request echoing through the chapel’s sacred space.
Without a hint of hesitation, you step out of your pants and sink to your knees, a swift and obedient response to Ed’s command. Your reaction is just automatic, there is no coherent thought in your mind as you follow his orders.
The coldness of the stone floor beneath your bare knees serves as a start reminder of the reality and you wince as the cold spreads through you.
Looking up to Ed through your lowered lashes, you see him visibly swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing upon having you on your knees before him. While you want to reach out and take his cock from his pants, free him of his prison, you don’t dare, sensing that it would displease him and Lorraine.
“We will try something different now”, Lorraine declares with a gentle voice, prompting your eyes to snap from Ed to her. In her hand she holds the rosary once again, and a blush raises to your cheeks as your clit throbs in remembrance of what Ed did to you with it.
Lorraine continues: “Take him wholly and accept him into your mouth. That he may drive the evil out”
You divert your attention from Lorraine back to Ed. His eyes meet yours, and in that moment, he winks at you playfully before reaching down to grab the hem of your shirt. In one fluid motion he pulls it off you, leaving you kneeling naked in the chapel.
His gaze lingers on you, a slow and deliberate appraisal as he looks you up and down, taking in every nuance of your form, making you squirm under the intensity.
Mesmerised, you watch as his hands find the front of his pants, unzipping them and pulling them down so his cock and balls are exposed. His dick obscenely framed by his pants and underwear that is pushed mid thigh as well as his shirt that has the last few buttons undone. He is big, slightly curved, with a protruding vein on the underside and the head is already glistening with a drop of pre-cum. Your mouth waters at the sight of him and you lick your lips in anticipation.
Ed steps up to you, burying his fingers in your hair and pulls your head against his exposed cock, rubbing against your face. So you open your mouth and flick your tongue towards his dick to lick the drop of pre-cum away.
Both Ed and you let out a groan simultaneously - you at the salty, musky taste of him that settles in your mouth and him at the feeling of your tongue on his hard cock.
When you open your mouth again he slides the head of his dick in, it’s heavy on your tongue as he just looks at you in wonder. You keep your eyes trailed on his and watch him swallow heavily before pushing himself deeper into your mouth with in a single, swift stroke.
The sound of surprise is muffled by the cock in your mouth that already feels too deep.
Ed tightens his grip on your head and he pushes his dick further in until the head hits the back of your throat.
Almost instantly, tear well up in your eyes, an involuntary response to the deep intrusion of his cock. Your hand instinctively finds his muscular thighs as you attempt to push him away or prompt a retreat.
Despite your efforts, Ed’s strength prevails, the grip on your head and hair remains firm and unyielding.
“Be a good girl and take it”, Ed’s commanding voice cuts through the air, his words heavy with desire as he groans above you.
You swallow around his cock and try to breathe through your nose but it doesn’t feel enough. Drool starts to collect in the corner of your mouth and around his dick before it drips down.
For a few seconds, Ed just holds your head in place with his cock buried to the hilt in your throat and balls pressed against your chin. Black spots start appearing in the corners of your vision and soon they morph into shadows that encroach your field of view as you struggle to breath.
Mercifully he pulls you off his cock ending your struggle.
You greedily inhale, the sudden rush of oxygen burning in your lungs, eliciting a cough. As you gasp for air your tear-stained eyes fixate on Ed.
The chapel light embraces him, casting a radiant glow that accentuates the contours of his form. Ed’s chest rises and falls with the rhythm of his laboured breaths, the play of light illuminates his muscular form. Dishevelled strands of brown hair frame his face, catching the light in a cascade of radiant highlights. Each lock seemed to shimmer with its own luminescence, creating an almost halo-like effect.
As he continues to stroke his hard cock the light also casts shadows on his hand as if intensifying the nuances of each movement.
“It’s no use, hon”, Ed says to Lorraine without averting his gaze from you, still stroking his cock.
Your eyes flicker over to Lorraine. She appears completely composed and unbothered by the recent interaction between you and her husband. With a calm nod she signals her agreement to Ed’s statement.
He exerts a gentle but firm pull with his hand that is still entangled in your hair as he guides you up from your kneeling position until you are standing. In a swift motion, Ed brings you into a tight hug, bringing you flush against him, his erect dick pushing against your stomach.
With that hand in your hair, Ed gently tilts your head upwards, locking eyes with you before bringing his mouth down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. Arousal pumps through your veins when you return it with the same fervour and grind your hips against his cock.
You part, both breathless and Ed steps back from the embrace, creating a sligh distance to gaze at you. His eyes are clouded by pleasure and linger on your breasts.
Under the scrutiny of his gaze you swallow dryly and feel your nipples involuntarily harden.
Ed’s hand, once entwined in your hair, delicately withdraws and he speaks with a raspy tenderness: “You’re something else, you know?”
He strokes along your cheek, a featherlight touch of his long fingers against your heated skin before he cups your chin.
“I think we’re gonna have to try something different”, he says to Lorraine as he runs his thumb over your lower lip, keeping his gaze firmly on you.
You can’t suppress a moan when he places his hands on your bare waist and drags his palms up until he reaches your breasts, cupping them. Ed gives them a slow, leisurely, appreciative squeeze and lifts them slightly, feeling their weight before stroking his thumb over your nipples. A jolt of electricity courses through you at his soft ministrations and you feel his cock throbbing.
The intense connection breaks abruptly when you feel a small, warm hand on your bare shoulder, causing you to jump slightly.
“Jesus”, the exclamation slips from your lips.
Ed cocks an eyebrow and a subtle amusement etches into his features, as his lip twitches: “That is indeed what you need. But don’t worry, we will take care of it - of you.”
With those words, he steps away, leaving you with Lorraine who’s hand tugs at your shoulder again, prompting you to turn and face her. She looks at you with a faint smile, her head tilted slightly to the one side. She motions for you to follow with a graceful gesture of her hand, leading you back to the altar.
“He’ll be right back, dear. He is just getting what is necessary for us to help you”, Lorraine speaks in a gentle, quiet and soothing tone while rubbing small circles over your bare arm as you stand there.
Ed’s heavy footsteps resonate in the quiet of the chapel when he returns only minutes later. The candles placed in the chapel that surrounded him flicker in response, their flames dancing. The play of light and shadows creates an ethereal aura around him.
As he strides back towards the altar purposefully you see his cock bobbing with each of his step, the head coated in presumed glistens in the light. You notice that he has completely unbuttoned his shirt by now, the two halves falling open to reveal his strong chest.
A look of fierce determination is etched across Ed’s face as he carries a small leather bundle under his arm.
“Get on the altar”, he declares, his voice a low rumble that reverberates in the quiet of the chapel. The flickering of candles cast dynamic shadows on his face, enhancing his determined expression.
The edge in Ed’s voice sends a surge of arousal through your veins.
Without clear instructions, you instinctively use your hand to push yourself to sit on the altar. A hiss escapes your lips as he cold stone makes contact with your bare skin,
You hear Ed hum in approval as he notices your compliance. Placing the bundle on the altar next to you, your curiosity piques, and you watch intently, wondering what he brought with him.
He hands Lorraine the big leather-bound Bible - the same one he used to spank you earlier. The memory makes you squirm lightly as you recall how it all felt, feeling yourself getting wetter again.
She takes the book from Ed’s hands and tenderly touches his cheek. The delicate gesture lasts a few moments before Lorraine removes her palm from his face, and as if in silent agreement, Ed returns his attention to the bundle on the altar.
Ed unrolls the bundle with a practised motion of his hands, and your eyes remain glued to the mesmerising movement. Watching his hands, you marvel at their appeal. They are undeniably handsome - strong, adorned with veins that trace a map of strength and boasting long, thick fingers. You clench around nothing when you remember how perfect they felt inside you.
As Ed unveils the contents, a myriad of items come into view, each carrying its own significance. Various crosses, some made of metal and some of wood but all different in size, catch the ambient light of the chapel. Candles, meticulously arranged, follow suit. A lighter is poised beside them.
Transparent bottles filled with clear liquid stand out. You can only speculate, but the faint scent in the air and the placement of the bottles hint at the possibility of holy water.
Furrowing your brow, you watch his hands move with purpose as he arranges these items in a precise order. The answer as to why he needs these items eludes you for now.
Finally, Ed shifts his attention to you, stepping in front of you. Almost on instinct you open your legs and he positions himself between them.
Your attention remains fixed on Ed as the rhythmic clicking of the lighter echose in the background. The ambient sound suggests that Lorraine must be lighting the candles.
But that soon fades again, you cannot concentrate on anything other than the handsome man in front of you.
You tangle your fingers in his short hair to tuck him down and kiss you. When your lips meet you let out a soft moan that is swallowed by him. He returns the kiss with fervour and grips the back of your head with one hand. He uses the other hand to rub the head of his cock against your cunt.
You buck against him in response to finally feeling him there and moan into the kiss again. Ed rubs himself against you, massaging your clit with the smooth head of his dick and coating it in your wetness.
He keeps up with this slow, steady and careful rhythm - and it’s driving you mad. Each thrust causes a small spark of pleasant sensation to course through you.
When Ed breaks the kiss to nod at Lorraine you whine at the loss of contact. Currently, you don’t care about her, the only thing you care about is him and his big cock.
Through the blissful haze in your mind you hear Ed speak: “My Lord, you are all powerful, you are God, you are our Father”.
The words puzzle you but every thought is banished from your mind when you feel the warm, bulbous head of his cock entering your cunt. Slowly but steadily he fills you until he is nearly completely buried in you.
He grabs hold of your hair, tugging it backwards as you groan, the pain almost forcing more pleasure upon you, making you look at him.
Ecce crucem domini, fugite partes adversae
Goosebumps erupt all over your skin as Ed begins to speak in Latin, the words resonating within the sacred surroundings.
What?
Before you can fully grasp the significance of the Latin words, Ed seals your lips with another kiss, momentarily grounding you in the sensation of his touch. He begins sliding in and out of your pussy before he breaks the kiss and gently pushes you down until you lay flat on the altar. The stone is cold beneath you.
Exsurgat Deus et dissipentur inimici ejus: et fugiant qui oderunt eum a facie ejus
Lorraine's voice, though quiet, possesses a commanding presence as it weaves through the chapel. Each word is delivered with a deliberate cadence, the measured tones resonating in the hallowed silence. There's a certain grace in the way she speaks, a calm assurance that adds an ethereal quality to the unfolding ritual. Her words, like tendrils of incense, linger in the air, filling the sacred space with a sense of purpose and reverence.
But you don’t have time to think about that because Ed starts thrusting inside you, emphasising each sentence with a stroke of his hips. He pulls out until only the head is inside you before pushing in again and stretching your walls to accommodate him. You whimper beneath him whenever he fills you completely.
Sicut deficit fumus defíciant; sicut fluit cera a facie ígnis, sic pereant peccatores a facie Dei
Ed's hand is back to rub your clit in circles following the rhythm of his cock. You moan loudly as a slow sensation starts in your clit, growing more intense with each thrust of his dick and every movement of his fingers.
Princeps gloriosissime coelestis milítiae, sancte Míchael Archangele, defende nos in proelio
He gives his hips an extra hard push when he is fully sheathed inside your wet cunt and you feel his balls slapping against you. Waves of heavy and delightful pleasure and sensation course wash through you as you fail to comprehend what they do to you.
Et colluctatione, quae nobis est adversus principes et potestates, adversus mundi rectores tenebrarum harum, contra spiritualia nequitiae, in coelestibus
The pressure inside you rises as Ed keeps fucking you and rubbing circles around your clit. You feel yourself tightening as pure and unfiltered pleasure courses through your veins. His dick seems to hit all the right places inside you, the wide shaft stretching you deliciously and the sensations radiating from your clit, making you balance on the edge of an orgasm.
Veni in auxilium hominum; quos Deus creavit inexterminabiles, et ad imaginem similitudinis suae fecit, et a tyrannide diaboli emit pretio magno
Ed uses your body like a drum, everything he does vibrating through you like a steady beat as you feel the prickling sensation of need pulling at you, filling your veins.
You watch him through hooded eyes and you clench around his cock upon his sight. His brow is furrowed in determination as the muscles in his chest and arms ripple with every thrust.
You feel the pleasure cresting, the wave of sensations stacking higher and higher, but just then, just when you’re about to reach your peak, something wet and cold hits you.
Exorcizamos te, omnis immunde spiritus, omnis satanic potestas, omnis infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica, in nomine et virtute Domini nostri Jesu
The unexpected sensation interrupts the rising tide of intensity, making you hiss. You smell a faint scent of holy water lingering in the air.
Turning your head slightly, you search for Lorraine, attempting to make sense of what just happened. You see her standing near you, the bible open as he holds a veil of what you guess is holy water.
Christi, eradicare et effugare a Dei Ecclesia, ab animabus ad imaginem Dei conditis ac pretioso divini Agni sanguine redemptis
Lorraine continues to sprinkle holy water onto you, the rhythmic pattern synchronised with the cadence of her words and Ed’s smooth thrusts.
The holy water feels cold on your overheated skin, a stark contrast that intensifies the sensory experience. The dichotomy of warmth and cold adds a layer of complexity to the unfolding ritual, leaving you caught in a paradox of sensations.
Non ultra audeas, serpens callidissime, decipere humanum genus, Dei Ecclesiam persequi, ac Dei electos excutere et cribrare sicut triticum
As your attention remains captivated by Lorraine, you're caught off guard by Ed's discreet move. Unseen, he seizes a burning candle, and the sudden cascade of hot wax onto your stomach elicits a sharp gasp from your lips. The contrasting elements of the cold water and the hot wax introduce a surprising twist, the unexpected sensation intertwining with the ambiance of the chapel.
The candlelight flickers, casting dancing shadows on Ed's face as he continues to drizzle the wax. Each drop leaves a transient mark on your skin, tainting it red.
Imperat tibi Deus altissimus, Imperat tibi Deus Pater; imperat tibi Deus Filius; imperat tibi Deus Spiritus Sanctus
The tension inside you breaks and waves crash and cascade over you as you cum almost unexpectedly. You clamp down around Ed's cock, clenching your cunt and bucking your hips. You arch your back when the orgasm courses through your body, riding out every single way as he continues to massage your clit and drive his hard dick into you.
Your scream echoes off the chapel walls, the sound resonating in the sacred silence, marking a moment of raw intensity. The juxtaposition of pleasure and the unexpected pain manifests in the resonance of your cry, creating a haunting echo that lingers in the hallowed atmosphere.
Vade satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis
Part of you is sure that you will go mad with all the sensations filling your mind, tending to overwhelm you.
Ed’s fingers playing with your clit, rubbing patterns you don’t understand.
His cock fills you up and hitting that spot makes your nerves sing so beautifully.
The mix of holy water and candle wax that assaults every fibre of your being, keeping you finely balanced between pain and pleasure.
You’re grateful you don’t have to stand because you feel your knees buckle under the onslaught.
Lorraine and Ed work in perfect harmony, alternating between hot and cold in such a way that you don’t know what will come next.
Da locum Christo, in quo nihil invenisti de operibus tuis
Every touch on your clit makes it throb, sending wave after wave of pleasure through your body and building up to your next orgasm. As Ed continues to slam into your cunt with a force that would drive you up the altar had he not been holding you down.
Whenever another drop of the cold holy water or the hot candle wax hits your bare skin you moan loudly at the sensation - you may as well be screaming you would not be able to discern it.
Da locum Ecclesia Uni, Sanctae, Catholicae, et Apostolicae, quam Christus ipse acquisivit sanguine suo
Ed buries his cock to the hilt, rotating his hips as if he could push it even further inside, making you arch your back against him.
“Beg for forgiveness”, his voice is deep and laced with arousal as he fucks into you in short, hard, deep stabs, “Beg for forgiveness from our God. Beg that He may allow us to cleanse you from your evil by my seed.”
“Please - please”, you start to beg desperately just as Ed had asked from you, “Please, Ed, please.”
Nos eriperes de potestate diaboli
You stammer incoherent words and sentences, the intensity rendering your attempts at communication fractured and disoriented. The echoes of your disjointed utterances sound throughout the chapel, as Ed quickens his pace again, hitting that spot deep inside you.
Ab omni hoste visibili et invisibili et ubique in hoc saeculo liberetur
Lorraine’s words grow louder, ascending to a crescendo that reverberates through the chapel. The rhythmic cadence of her speech becomes a pulsating backdrop as you come again, the explosive pleasure hitting you all at once. Your vision goes black and you shudder against Ed violently.
With a loud groan Ed comes inside you as your cunt contracts around him, your high having him brought to the peak too. You feel his dick twitching and pulsing as he keeps his hips flush against yours.
The waves of your orgasm keep washing over you as he keeps pumping you full of his cum.
Slowly your vision and senses return to you and Ed slides his slowly softening cock out of your cunt with a satisfied sigh.
You feel a drizzle of his sticky cum oozing from your pussy and dripping down on the altar.
Your eyes meet Ed's, and he graces you with a wide, warm smile that transforms his dishevelled appearance into a moment of genuine warmth as he tucks his dick into his pants.
Ed looks thoroughly fucked out, a layer of sweat covering his bare chest that glistens whenever he moves in the dim light. His hair points in all directions, some strands sticking to his forehead. Yet, in this vulnerable state, you find him more attractive than ever.
“I think that did it”, Ed remarks to Lorraine, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. As the surroundings gradually come back into focus, you look at Lorraine.
In contrast to you or Ed, she has maintained her composed demeanour, her clothes and hair still neatly in place.
She nods at his words as a subtle acknowledgment, then her gaze shifts from Ed to you and back at him.
“I’ll head back to the house, hon. You both should join me when you’ve cleaned yourselves up.”
Before she leaves, Lorraine steps over to you, her touch gentle as she cradles your face in the palm of her hand.
“You did well”, she says softly, warmth evident in her voice.
With that, she turns to leave, her steps echoing through the silent air as she heads towards the exits leaving you alone in the chapel with Ed, who in the meantime picked up your discarded clothes.
Ed places the clothes next to you on the altar and with a tender gesture he smooths your sweaty hair out of your forehead before leaning in and kissing you in a lingering, sweet kiss.
He starts picking the dried wax from your skin with a careful touch, his fingers tracing over the sore skin softly.
“You did so good”, he murmurs, his words carrying a mixture of pride and tenderness.
As continues to remove the wax he whispers words of affirmation, telling you what a good girl you are, how strong you are and that he is proud of you.
When he reaches your cunt he gives you a cheeky wink before gathering the cum that dripped out of your puffy cunt on his fingers and pushing it back in. You moan when you feel his thick fingers in your sore pussy: “Shit, Ed!”
“I know, sweetheart. Just cleaning you up… And wouldn’t want to waste my cum, right? It has to go where it belongs”, Ed slushes you softly and pumps his fingers into you a few times before he pulls back, satisfied with his work.
Ed helps you down from the altar, his arms enveloping you in a tight hug. You sigh softly, when the warmth he radiates seeps into your bare skin. As you hug, you feel the steady rhythm of his heart beating against your chest. Softly, you stroke his shoulders and back, letting your hands wander over his broad frame.
“Thank you”, you mumble, “for helping.”
You really are grateful for them to try their unorthodox methods on you. Judging by the soreness that inhabits your whole body, you enjoyed it immensely and even if it didn’t help, you’d be more than happy to return for a second session.
He parts from you with a soft kiss to your forehead: “Not for that, sweetheart. It was my pleasure… Just say the word, I’d be more than willing to help you again”.
Blushing at his words, you meet his toothy grin that reflects the genuine warmth when he hands you your clothes. His touch is gentle as he helps you to dress again. Wanting to return the favour, you take the initiative to button up Ed’s shirt.
His voice is soft when he thanks you before he grabs all the things on the altar and stores them in the leather bundle again.
Ed leads you out of the chapel with a hand on your back and you appreciate the soft gesture as you walk away from the stone altar. He opens the door for you and motions you outside with a gentle gesture of his hand before stepping next to you again.
Blinking against the light, you notice that while it is a bit darker than before, it is still brighter than in the chapel. The first thing that strikes you is that the shifting of light does not trigger your headaches - you are blissfully pain free.
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Pushing Further (Josh Lambert x Reader)
Masterlist Ao3
Summary:
[Josh Lambert x Female Reader] [Josh Lambert x You]
There is nothing more stressful than moving day - the campus is packed with freshmen and their parents. And you just want some peace and quiet.
However, amidst the tumult, a tall, broad, and handsome man grabs your attention that is until he sends you sprawling to the floor.
Annoyed you go on with your life and meet Dalton who you soon befriend. When you find out that the stranger is his father - you're doomed.
Josh Lambert is everything you want in a man but there are reasons why you should not give in: He's almost two decades your senior, divorced and most importantly your friend's dad
So you go out of your way to avoid him and walk the tightrope between attraction and avoidance.
That doesn't make him any less hot though - even more when you discover that the attraction is mutual.
OR:
And they were friends - except you fucked his dad.
Wordcount: 7,134
Warnings: 18+, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, smut, dirty talk, older man/ younger woman, daddy issues
A/N: There is a criminally small amount of Josh Lambert ffs, so I decided to change that
ALSO: Insidious 5 plot (Josh Lambert) >>>>
You hate move-in day.
The college campus swirls with a kaleidoscope of emotions. Freshmen, wide-eyed and eager, navigate through the labyrinth of unfamiliar buildings, their parents hovering nearby, taking in the scenery, a mix of pride and reluctance in their gaze as they prepare to part with their newly-minted scholars.
The sun bathes the bustling scene in its warm rays, transforming the campus into a vibrant panorama. The old grey stone building looms tall and resolute against the canvas of the sky. It wears the patina of years with a dignified charm, its weathered facade a testament to the countless stories etched into its walls.
As you observe this annual rite of passage, a sense of nostalgia mingles with a tinge of wistfulness. Your own move-in day, with its mix of excitement and trepidation, feels like a distant reverie. Now a senior, the campus teeming with eager newcomers stirs conflicting emotions. The excitement and youthful energy are heartening, yet the multitude of people and the bustling activity feel almost too much, too overwhelming.
You sit at a secluded spot beneath the sprawling canopy of one of the many trees that grace the campus. From this vantage point, you observe the ebb and flow of people, hesitant to venture into the dorms that will surely be crowded.
The leaves above gently rustle in the breeze as you sit, absorbing the sights and sounds of the day.
Your attention is drawn to a cluster of fellow students distributing flyers, unmistakably advertising a fraternity event that you have never attended and will never attend - the frat boys just creep you out. Self-assured and arrogant has never been your type to hang out with.
However, amidst the lively scene, your gaze lingers on a lanky young man strolling by, seemingly impervious to the flyers being thrust into the hands of passersby.
Artist, you think. Everything about him just extrudes an artistic flair and you’re sure that your assumption would be right if you were to ask him.
You watch him stride away from the frat boys and you can’t help but think that he made a good choice by not interacting with them.
Your attention shifts from the bustling crowd to the presence of a man making his way down the path. Intrigued, you furrow your brow, momentarily curious about whose father he is. Your eyes linger on him, drawn by a magnetic quality.
As he walks, you find it hard not to notice his striking appearance. Despite the rough edges, there’s a rugged handsomeness about him. He is tall, with broad shoulders and his short, wispy light brown hair catches the sunlight, adding a subtle sparkle to his presence. A scruffy stubble grazes his face, enhancing that rugged charm.
Your gaze can’t help but follow the flex of his muscles as he carries a considerable amount of stuff for his child. The hot summer day is a blessing, you think, since it prompted him to don a tight polo shirt and shorts. You silently appreciate the view - the way his biceps and triceps tense with each step, and the way the shirt accentuates the breadth of his shoulders and chest.
Silently observing, you witness him engaging in conversation with the fraternity members, taking one of their flyers, presumably for his child. You can see him being a frat boy in his younger years - he certainly has the looks.
As he walks away, the flyer securely in his grasp, your eyes remain fixed on him. The contrast between his mature, composed stature and the frat boys is striking. His steps are deliberate, and everything about his presence seems secure and strong.
Your tongue darts out to wet your lips as you watch him and you’re somewhat surprised - even if also glad - that he doesn’t acknowledge your burning gaze since you’re practically undressing him.
Part of you hopes that you’ll see him more often on the campus and that that won’t be the last time your paths cross - maybe you’ll be able to strike up a conversation with him.
Your gaze lingers in the direction where the broad man disappeared and you find yourself momentarily lost. The vibrant energy of those who come after him seems to pale in comparison, they fail to capture your interest and it begins to feel boring.
With a sigh, you stretch your limbs, the pull of your muscles urging you to stand up. The prospect of a quieter atmosphere within the dorms becomes increasingly tempting, and hope that the flow of people there will have dulled.
_____
Rounding the corner and approaching your dorm, you eagerly open the door, hoping for a reprieve from the bustling crowds. However, your optimism is quickly diminished as you find the space still densely packed with a mix of eager freshmen, parents, and the occasional irritated senior, annoyed at the number of people - a hive of activity and a melting pot of an array of voices.
Undeterred, you press forward, determined to make your way to your room despite the persistent throng.
Navigating through the diverse sea of faces you make your way down the corridor. The air is charged with a blend of anticipation, familial warmth, and a touch of exasperation from those who had hoped for a quieter return to their familiar living spaces.
The sounds of conversations, laughter, and occasional sighs create a lively symphony that fills the air, providing a vivid backdrop to the varied emotions playing out in the cramped dormitory corridor.
Turning another corner, your curiosity is piqued, and you slow your pace to observe the activity around you. As you walk past a series of doors, your attention is drawn to the scenes unfolding in each room - freshmen unpacking with enthusiasm and parents offering last-minute advice.
Lost in this observational moment, you’re caught off guard as someone collides with you, sending you sprawling to the floor suddenly. A breath escapes you and you blink disoriented.
In the abrupt stillness that follows, you glance up to see the source of the collision, and to your surprise, it’s the handsome man from earlier. In the fleeting seconds your eyes lock, and you notice the striking shade of blue in his gaze and the sadness that seems to emanate from him.
Rather than offering a hand to help you up, he mumbles a quick apology and resumes his stride without missing a beat. A sense of frustration flares within you - as handsome as he is, his manners are clearly lacking.
Arsehole, you think as. you gather yourself from the floor with a shake of your head.
The brief encounter leaves you with a mix of bewilderment and a lingering sense of irritation as you make your way to your room.
______
Professor Armagan’s voice reverberates through the expansive art studio, commanding the attention of her assembled freshman class as she introduces you.
“Today, I want you to meet one of our seniors—she’s really gifted, and it’s important to me that you get to know more students of mine,“ she declares, her enthusiasm evident in the cadence of her words.
You raise your hand in acknowledgement, a subtle greeting to the newcomers, and take a moment to let your eyes wander across the room. The art studio, a sanctuary of creativity, is filled with eager faces, each potentially harbouring a unique artistic voice.
As your gaze travels through the room, you spot the lanky boy from the first day.
Ha, I knew it, a quiet sense of validation washes over you - your intuition about him being an artist appears spot-on and judging by the strokes on his canvas, a talented one at that.
The lesson unfolds with a straightforward tempo, and your role is mainly confined to sharing insights about the college and providing a glimpse into how art functions in Professor Armagan’s class. The information is delivered efficiently, and you find yourself relieved as the session concludes.
“Hi, I’m Dalton,“ the lanky boy strides up to you, extending a hand in greeting.
You reciprocate with a friendly smile, taking his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Dalton,“
As your eyes fall upon Dalton’s pencil drawing, you can’t help but offer a genuine compliment. “Wow, this is really good. You’ve got some serious talent,“ you remark, appreciating the skill evident in his work.
Dalton’s face lights up with a grateful smile. “Thanks, I appreciate that,“ he replies, the sincerity in his tone confirming your initial impression of him as a genuinely nice individual, and you find yourself thinking that Dalton is the kind of person you could see yourself being friends with.
“You have to work on your disguise though - I could tell from a mile away that you chose the art program and was just wondering whether you made it to her class,“ with a playful grin, you jest to Dalton.
Dalton chuckles at your remark, and there’s a warmth in his response, “Yeah, I guess it’s pretty obvious, huh? Can’t hide the artist in me, I suppose.“
As you both exit the art studio together, the door softly closes behind you, the ambient sounds of the campus filling the air. The sunlight casts a warm glow over the pathway as you begin to make your way through the bustling campus, the occasional laughter and conversations of students blending into the lively background.
Turning to Dalton, you initiate a conversation about his college experience so far.
“So, how are you finding college so far? How’s it treating you?“ you inquire, a casual smile accompanying your words.
Dalton reflects, “It’s been an interesting ride. Meeting new people, navigating through classes, and, of course, diving into the art program. It’s everything I hoped for, honestly.“
The two of you continue to stroll, the campus unfolds around you.
Dalton shares more about his classes and the artistic projects he’s eager to explore, and you reciprocate with your own anecdotes.
Continuing your conversation, you find a natural segue to inquire about Dalton’s residence on campus. “By the way, which dorm are you in?“ you ask curiously with a casual tone.
Dalton smiles, “Oh, I’m in the last one down the path. How about you?“
As he reveals his dormitory, you can’t help but feel a spark of excitement. “No way! Me too,“ you respond, a genuine grin spreading across your face.
Dalton’s eyes light up with joy, and you pick up on the enthusiasm that suggests he might not have a large circle of friends.
He suggests, “We should totally hang out sometime. And you’ve got to meet my roommate, Chris – she’s really cool.“
You quirk an eyebrow and playfully tease Dalton, “Rooming with a girl, huh? The administration must have a wild sense of humour.“
Dalton chuckles, “Yeah, it was a bit of a surprise for both of us. Chris is fine, though. We make it work.“
You share a laugh, the notion of unexpected room assignments becoming a shared source of amusement. “Well, I’m definitely looking forward to meeting this mysterious Chris. Maybe the three of us could grab a coffee or something,“ you suggest, already envisioning potential hangout sessions.
Dalton’s eyes light up with genuine enthusiasm. “That sounds awesome! Chris will love it. She’s been itching to make some new friends around here.“
“How about this? There’s this amazing little coffee shop I’ve been a regular at since my first year here. It’s got this cosy vibe, and I think you and Chris would really enjoy it,“ you suggest, your enthusiasm echoing through your words.
Dalton’s eyes light up even more, his excitement matching yours. “That sounds awesome! I’m in, and I’m sure Chris will love it too.“
As you and Dalton walk through the dormitory halls, he suddenly comes to a stop and points to a door. “This is my room,“ he says with an appreciative smile, gratitude evident in his eyes.
You return the smile and quip, “Well, look at that! I guess I’ve been on the unofficial welcome committee. My room’s just further down the hall.“
Dalton laughs, appreciating the light-hearted exchange. “Thanks for walking with me. Do you wanna stop by tomorrow? I’d introduce you to Chris and we can get that coffee?“
“Absolutely, sounds like a plan,“ you respond. “See you tomorrow, dude,“ you add with a nod and a parting wave, continuing down the hall to your own room.
_____
The next day, you make your way to Dalton and Chris’s room, thankful to do something today. The familiar dormitory halls lead you to their door, and you give a light knock before it swings open.
Dalton greets you with a welcoming smile. “Hey! Glad you could make it. This is Chris,“ he introduces, gesturing towards a short, black girl with braided hair, vibrant clothes, and a warm smile.
“Nice to meet you! Dalton’s mentioned you,“ Chris says and extends her hand, you grab it and shake it.
Upon entering the room, your eyes are immediately drawn to Dalton’s paintings adorning the walls. “These are really nice,“ you remark, genuinely appreciating the artistic talent displayed.
Dalton beams with gratitude. “Thanks,“ he responds, a hint of pride in his voice.
As the three of you settle into conversation, you decide to delve into a bit of small talk. “So, Chris, do you also major in art?“ you inquire, curious about her academic pursuits.
Chris chuckles, her demeanour warm and friendly. “Nope, not at all. I’m actually a math major. Total left brain-right brain dynamic we’ve got going on here,“ she says with a playful twinkle in her eye.
As the conversation flows, a sudden knock interrupts the camaraderie. Chris and Dalton exchange confused glances, both wearing expressions of mild bewilderment. “Were you expecting someone?“ Chris asks, looking at Dalton.
Dalton shakes his head, equally puzzled. “No, I have no idea. Were you?“
“Nah,“ Chris mirrors the headshake.
The room falls into a brief silence as Dalton opens the door, revealing a man standing on the threshold. Dalton’s confusion is palpable as he utters, “Dad?“
A breath hitches in your throat as recognition sets in. It’s him - the handsome man from your first day, the same person who unintentionally sent you sprawling to the floor and didn’t have the decency to help you up. The lingering ache in your hip serves as a constant reminder of that memorable encounter.
“Hey. Sorry for the surprise visit. I was in the area and thought I’d drop by and talk to Dalton,“ he says, his eyes widening a bit as they lock onto yours. Recognition flickers across his face. “I’m Josh, by the way.“
Holding his gaze, you find yourself momentarily captivated, drinking in the details like a starved soul. His blue eyes, once a passing detail, now reveal a depth that draws you in. The slight curl of his hair at the nape of his neck and around his ears adds a touch of casual charm, accentuated by the scruff of his beard that now appears more prominent. Your gaze appreciatively lingers on the nuances, savouring the details.
Your appreciative gaze shifts downward, taking in the way his dark blue, tight dress jacket with rolled-up sleeves complements the form-fitting light blue t-shirt beneath. The fabric spans deliciously over his broad shoulders, chest, and the little tummy he has, accentuating his physique effortlessly. It makes you want to be under him, your bodies pressed together while he thrusts inside you, holding you tightly with his strong body - you’re sure that he’s soft in just the right places while being muscular and powerful.
The spell of fascination is abruptly broken as Chris, standing next to you, coughs purposefully to snap you out of your trance. The sudden interruption startles both you and Josh and you tear your eyes away from him.
You can’t shake the feeling that the attraction is not one-sided. Josh’s lingering gaze and the subtle shift in his expression suggest that he, too, was captivated.
The realization that the attraction might be mutual, even in this unexpected and somewhat inappropriate context, leaves a tinge of discomfort. Josh is not just a stranger; he’s Dalton’s dad, Dalton who is your friend. You silently hope that Dalton didn’t pick up on it.
Meeting Dalton’s gaze, you instantly sense that hope is futile - his raised eyebrow speaks volumes,
Josh clears his throat and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, your eyes involuntarily follow the movement, captivated by the subtle gestures.
For a brief moment, you indulge in the thought of his lips on yours, and his tongue on you. You wonder, if the stubble would scratch you, leaving marks on your skin so you could remember and feel him days later.
“Well, I should get going—I didn’t want to interrupt you,“ Josh says, directing his gaze at you again. “It was nice to meet you.“
As Josh offers a tight-lipped smile and exits the room. Once he’s gone, both Dalton and Chris turn their attention toward you.
“What was that?“ Chris’s inquiry comes with a hint of humour.
“Could you not undress him with your eyes next time - he’s my dad,“ Dalton says to you and you feel your cheeks heating up.
“I’m sorry, man,“ you mumble, a tinge of embarrassment colouring your words, “It isn’t my fault he’s hot.“
_____
The next time you encounter him, you’re on your way to your dorm as Josh is just leaving.
“Hey, Josh,“ you greet him with a bright smile.
He responds with a big, bright, and goofy grin etched on his handsome face. You can’t help but think that he looks good when he smiles.
“Hey, it’s nice to see you again,“ he greets you, his eyes sweeping over your form, lingering longer on the neckline of your tight shirt than is appropriate.
“I’m sorry for running you over when he first met,“ he starts, scratching over the hair on the back of his head, “ Or at least just walking away and not helping you up again.“
You reach out to place a reassuring hand on the skin of his arm. Intending for it to be a featherlight, brief touch, as soon as your fingertips trace over his arm, it feels like electricity is being passed through you.
Josh, in response to the touch, swallows heavily, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a visible display of tension. Instead of pulling away, he surprises both of you by taking your hand in his. Intertwining your fingers, he begins to rub soothing circles over the back of your hand with his thumb.
You notice the size of his hands—big and fitting for a man of his stature.
At that moment, it feels as though time stands still. Both of you just stand there, locked in a gaze, drinking in each other’s presence.
As he moves a bit closer, you become acutely aware of him, and his scent engulfs you like a private cocoon. It’s uniquely him - a blend of cologne and something inherently Josh. The cologne carries a woody fragrance, specifically dry wood, with nuanced undertones of sandalwood and amber.
The sun casts shadows on his face and accentuates the contours of his features. You observe that the short beard framing his face is threaded with salt-and-pepper hair. The interplay of light and shadows makes him more than just attractive—it renders him captivating.
His blue eyes, sparkling in the sunlight, reveal a depth that draws you in. They are akin to fire in water, reflecting a passionate intensity that burns within the warm sun-lit undercurrents of his gaze.
The healthy shine of his hair catches your attention, and you can’t help but notice the vibrancy it adds to his overall appearance. Your fingers itch to push the wayward locks behind his ear again, to feel if it is as soft as it looks.
The enchanting moment is abruptly shattered as someone carelessly bumps into you, jolting you out of the reverie. In the sudden disturbance, Josh releases your hand.
“I-,“ he clears his throat, the remnants of the charged moment still lingering, “should get going.“
There’s a palpable pause, a shared awareness of the disrupted connection. At that moment, you sense that he, too, is affected by the sudden intrusion into the private bubble you unintentionally created. The unspoken understanding between you deepens, and as he looks at you with an intensity that mirrors your own feelings, you find yourself nodding in agreement.
As Josh begins to move away, you’re left standing there, your gaze fixed on him. Your eyes trail along his departing figure, captivated by the sight of his muscular back.
_____
The inappropriate thoughts about Josh weigh heavily on your conscience, creating a turbulent storm of emotions within you that refuses to settle. Part of you acknowledges the relief of not having seen him in quite some time, while another part feels a twinge of sadness - There’s an undeniable sense of loss or longing; you want to see him again.
But you cherish your friendship with Dalton and don’t want to jeopardise it. It feels like you walk on a tightrope between desire and loyalty, especially because you’re fairly certain that this perpetual tension will snap at some point. So you find yourself consciously avoiding Dalton and Chris’s room. The fear of running into his handsome father fuels you, in particular, because he seems to make frequent visits - and the question lingers in the front of your mind: does he purposefully stop by so often, driven by a desire to see you?
Your gaze drifts around your dorm room, and you spot a sketchbook that isn’t yours. A moment of realization hits you like a sudden jolt—shit, that’s Dalton’s. He’s forgotten it again.
With the certainty that both Dalton and Chris are currently in class, you entertain the idea of stopping by to return the forgotten sketchbook. The timing seems opportune—no risk of encountering them, and by extension, no chance of a surprise visit from Josh, Dalton’s father.
The thought forms a plan in your mind, and you decide to seize the moment. The dormitory halls echo with quiet solitude as you make your way to Dalton and Chris’s room.
The door swings open, and to your surprise, the room isn’t as empty as you expected. There, standing in the middle of the room is Josh,
Time seems to slow as you lock eyes with him, and an involuntary thought escapes your mind— Jesus, your memories really didn’t do his handsomeness justice.
You find yourself taking in the details—the way the room frames him, the play of light accentuating the contours of his features, and the way his presence seems to fill the space.
All the subtle nuances of his appearance, from the slightly tousled hair to the hint of scruff on his jaw, draw your attention. His blue eyes, usually a captivating shade, seem to shine darker than normal, adding a layer of intensity to the moment.
“I didn’t expect you here,“ the words escape your mouth, almost breathlessly, and you curse the involuntary reaction you have to Josh.
Instead of responding immediately, he looks you over, his gaze lingering on your form. Then, he opens his mouth and says, “You’ve been avoiding me.“
It’s not a question; it’s a statement, and it holds a truth you can’t deny. You have been avoiding him, but it’s more about not trusting yourself in his presence than anything else.
As you remain silent, Josh takes a step closer, closing the distance between you. His hand lands on the wood of the door, near your head, applying gentle pressure. The muscles in his chest and arms tense as he leans against the door, closing it with a quiet click.
Instead of moving away, he keeps standing there, effectively boxing you in between the door and his body.
He maintains an unbroken gaze on you, his eyes locked onto yours. The close proximity allows you to observe the intricate details of his eyes. They are not uniformly blue; instead, there’s a fascinating interplay of shades. A ring of light blue delicately encircles the pupil, creating a mesmerizing gradient with the darker blue that surrounds it. The hues blend seamlessly, forming a captivating dance of colours within the confines of his gaze.
The fragile silence hangs in the air, and a subtle fear lingers—fear that any spoken word or sudden movement might shatter the enchanting spell woven between you and Josh. In the cocoon of quietude, you choose to remain still, each heartbeat echoing in the confined space, cautious not to disrupt the delicate equilibrium of the moment.
You can’t help but feel lazy arousal starting to pool through your veins, fueled by Josh.
“Tell me to stop,“ Josh speaks, his words almost a whisper, “tell me to walk away.“
The quiet plea hangs in the air, revealing the internal struggle he faces. He’s your friend’s dad, divorced, and almost two decades your senior—valid reasons to resist the magnetic pull drawing you both in. Yet, in this charged moment, those rational arguments seem to lose their significance in the haze of him that clouds your thoughts.
Your eyes flicker to his lips, and as quietly as he had spoken, you finally respond, “Kiss me.“
And so he does.
Josh’s lips descend to yours, capturing you in a kiss that feels both urgent and consuming. His warm hand gently cups your cheek, adding a tender touch to the intensity of the moment. It’s a kiss that feels like an act of hunger as if he’s been starved and you are the only remedy to satiate it.
Your hands find their way to his strong shoulders, instinctively pulling him closer as you reciprocate the kiss. The texture of his lips against yours becomes a tactile language, each brush and press conveying a depth of emotion words might fall short of capturing. You feel his stubble scrape over your skin. The taste of his kiss is a fusion of want and need, a shared desire that resonates between you, eclipsing any reservations that linger in the back of your mind.
Josh breaks the kiss, and both of you are left breathless. “Fuck, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,“ he confesses, his voice laden with a mixture of desire and relief.
He starts leaving open-mouthed kisses along your jawline, and you laugh quietly in response. “Well, I have an idea,“ you playfully remark and reminisce of when you first met him - you wanted to do that since then.
“Yeah, tell me,“ Josh smiles, his hand finding its way into your hair, tightening its grip. He is looking directly into your eyes smouldering blue burning into you as he leans down to bite into your bottom lip lightly.
“Josh,“ was all you managed to say in a breathy voice.
His lips move to your jaw, leaving soft kisses and sucking a mark into the soft skin of your neck, letting his teeth nip over the spot before moving on. You let out a moan and dig your fingers into his shoulders, before loosening your hold and roaming his whole back. You feel the strength of his muscles between your hands as well as the heat he emanates.
Not being able to contain yourself, you are desperate for some skin so you lift up the hem of his shirt and slip your hands under it, feeling his skin.
With a groan Josh presses his hips into yours, making you feel the hardness of the erection he is sporting. You grind against it as you feel your heart beating fast in your chest.
Josh pulls back, his eyes dark and glinting with arousal.
He slips his thick fingers under the thin straps of your dress and pulls them over your shoulders, leaving burning pathways in the wake of his touch. At that moment, you’re so glad you decided to wear a dress. And you second that again, when he tucks down the upper part of your dress, exposing your breasts to his nimble fingers and hungry eyes.
Almost instantly his hands find their way to your tits and you groan when he rubs the pad of his thumb over your nipple.
Josh takes his sweet time exploring you and finding out which sound he can wring from you by just his hands touching your chest. Deliberately, he flicks his forefinger against the hardened bud before capturing it between two fingers, rolling and tugging on it.
His lips skate over your collarbones, nibbling and sucking leaving more marks in his wake.
Something shortcircuits in your brain when you notice how his hands span over your ribs, making you feel fragile beneath him. And in that moment you want nothing more than for him to just lift you and impale you on him, manipulate you to his liking until the only thing you can remember is his name.
You hook your fingers in the belt loops of his jeans, pulling his hips against yours, wishing that he wasn’t wearing anything. You feel the hardness of his cock pressed against your belly as you grind down on him.
When his lips and fingers leave your skin you almost whine at the loss of contact but Josh wraps an arm around your back, pulling you flush against his thick frame before covering your mouth with his own again, possessing you.
He presses one of those strong thighs between your legs, pressing it against your clothed cunt, locking you against the wood of the door again. Without a coherent thought, you moan into his mouth as the rough fabric of his jeans rubs over your wet pussy.
Frantic your hands undo the belt and open his jeans, pushing it down, before tugging on his shirt, desperate for more skin. Josh takes pity on your frazzled attempts and takes off his shirt, pulling it over his head as well as letting his jeans fall to the floor with a quiet thud.
His skin is damp, a thin sheen of sweat giving it a dewy glow that catches the light of the room. Your eyes trace over him appreciatively, taking in the details that make him undeniably attractive as he just watches you with dark, hooded eyes.
The rise and fall of his chest, accompanied by a scattering of sparse chest hair, draws your eyes. Your gaze lingers on the muscles that play beneath the softness of his belly. In this moment, you find that he is a perfect harmonious mix between being ripped and soft.
Driven by a need to touch - to feel - him your fingers trace a delicate path across Josh’s chest, shoulders, and belly, exploring the terrain of his skin with a gentle curiosity.
As your fingertips navigate the expanse of his chest, you feel his breath and breathing heart, a subtle rhythm syncing with the beating of your own heart. The transition to his shoulders unveils the sinewy strength that lies beneath, a testament to the physicality that drew you in. Moving lower, your touch encounters the softness of his belly, tracing the trail of hair that leads into his briefs.
Without warning you cup his hard cock that’s straining against the fabric of his underwear, making him groan, a deep sound that reverberates through his chest.
Josh wraps his arms around you, lifting you up as he dips his head to kiss you. He bites your lip, the sharp nip of his teeth making you whimper into his mouth. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass as he carries you, prompting you to wrap your legs around his thick middle.
With one fluid movement, he sets you down on the desk, dimly you register the books on the table being swept to the floor. He slots himself between your legs as he tangles his hand in your hair to tilt your head back to force you to meet his gaze.
“If you want to stop - at any point - you tell me,“ Josh’s voice is a quiet, husky murmur, the darkness in his eyes reflecting the pleasure shared between you. His lips, now deliciously pinked from your kisses, hover close.
Wordlessly, you nod. In this moment, he embodies everything you desire and more, a captivating presence that has ensnared your senses. If this is your only chance at tasting him, feeling him, having you - you’ll gladly take it. If not somewhat sad, because you’re sure you will not be able to forget him.
He captures your lips in another short kiss while hitching your dress up higher. Josh’s hand is between your legs now, rubbing one finger over your clothed cunt. You just know that the cotton has to be damp, that he now feels how much you want this - want him.
When he applies more pressure, scraping over your clit you arch your back into his touch. His eyes are on yours, drinking in your every reaction.
Josh repeats the act and you rake your fingers over his back so hard you’re certain to have marked him. It’s making him moan, low, deep and frantic as if he’s enjoying this as much as you. Your entire skin fizzles with electricity upon his reaction.
In one fluid motion, he seats himself beneath your things and yanks your ass off the edge of the desk. His fingers curl around the waistband of your panties and he pulls them down, off your legs.
Just the sight of Josh between your legs edges you closer to an orgasm. His big hands are wrapped around your thighs, keeping you open for him. If you had to describe the look in his eyes you don’t know if another word than feral was fitting.
He makes you want to paint him, to capture this moment for eternity, with his messy hair and dark eyes.
Your head falls back and every thought becomes impossible when he presses a featherlight kiss on your clit, the stubble prickling like electricity. You cry out when he draws a circle around it with his wet tongue.
“You need to be quiet, sweetheart,“ he says, voice low, rough and deep. “Wouldn’t want anyone to come in here, right?“
You can’t do much other than nod - you know that you can try but you also surely know that you will fail.
As soon as Josh presses his palm across your stomach to hold you down and tastes your cunt with a long lick you lose that train of thought again.
He builds you up with a slow and dexterous tongue, determined to make you cum beneath him. Your back arches off the desk, only held down by his strong arm as you whimper.
You feel your cunt clenching and you’re sure that you’re staining the desk with your wetness.
Arousal crashes through your vein and you feel yourself getting closer - and he apparently also does because he hooks his arms around you, to pull you closer to his mouth.
A curse rolls over your tongue when he sinks two of his thick fingers into your cunt, curling them inside your so you spasm around him.
While you know that your orgasm is drawing closer it still hits you like a freight train. The mixture of his fingers and his mouth on your clit brings you over the edge.
You cry out and your back arches off the desk, fire pulsing through you. Josh’s mouth is still on you, licking through your wet cunt, catching every drop. You feel like your muscles are locking up and the fire has extended to your lungs as he continues to work you through it. Only when you whimper against him, overstimulated he pulls back.
Josh’s neck and chin are coated in your wetness, glistening in the light of the room. A blinding smile is etched across his features, reaching his eyes. The pleasure radiating from him is palpable and genuine, he likes how you react to him.
Your fingers instinctively dig into the firm contours of Josh’s shoulders, a desperate longing urging him to rise and meet your lips. In response, his strong arms envelop you, pulling you irresistibly close as your mouths meld together in a fervent kiss. You taste the salty tang of yourself on his tongue.
His hard cock is pressed against your bare cunt and you grind down on him, making him groan into the kiss. Just from feeling him, you know that he’s big and you ache to get your hands on him.
You reach into his briefs, following the trail of hair. Josh’s cock is thick and twitching in your palm as you smear precum over him to jerk him off easier.
God, he’s going to split you in half, make you burn from the stretch as he forces you to accept every thick, hot inch of him.
Driven by need you push his underwear over his hips, mesmerizes as you finally see him naked. His dick stands proud and hard in neatly trimmed pubic hair. You wrap your hand around him again, tracing the pulsing vein on the underside of his cock. Josh jerks his hips into your hand and you wet your lips as you clench around nothing.
It’s almost surreal, the realization that this handsome and gorgeous man is as captivated by you as you are by him and you itch to return the favour and take him into your mouth to see what sounds you can elicit from him.
But when you show signs of slipping from the desk he stops you with a long-fingered hand on your thigh.
“You can return the favour next time, we have to be quick,“ Josh’s voice is husky and dark as his eyes are on you intently.
Next time? Fuck, yes, you really hope that there will be a next time because you don’t think you can get enough of him.
His arms wrap around you again to claim your mouth before lifting you up from the desk. The dig of his fingers into your skin lingers are you just hope that they will bruise. He walks both of you over to a bed in the room, laying you down on your back.
Josh is a solid form above you, chest heaving as he braces his weight on his elbows. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, before licking a stripe along the length of your pulse.
The feeling of his weight pressing you into the bed with his bare chest on yours is indescribable. The soft swell of his stomach against yours is heavenly s you claw into his shoulders and back to pull him further on you,
“Fuck me, please,“ your voice wrecked and hoarse as you buck against him, feeling his hard dick press against you.
He pushes his cock against your cunt, nudging your clit with every stroke, just slicking himself with your wetness.
You whimper when you feel the tip of his broad dick slide into you, keeping it buried inside you, “Josh, please .“
Josh takes pity on you. He leans forwards and his eyes are on yours as he fills you with short and shallow thrusts, inching his cock further and further inside you. Your eyes fall closed at the overwhelming feeling of him in your cunt and he stops again.
Your eyes fly open when his hand finds its way around your throat, wordlessly telling you to keep your gaze locked on him. The slow drag of his dick elicits a high-pitched whine from you.
When his hips are flush against yours, he stills, giving you time to get used to him.
“Just like that…. You’re doing so well,“ his voice is low as he praises you.
The combination of the barely contained edge in his voice and the praise causes you to clench around him, making Josh groan. You’re drunk off him, off how you feel every ridge, every vein against the wall of your cunt.
When he pulls back and only leaves the tip inside you again, you whine. That is soon replaced by a loud moan as he slams his whole length into you.
He feels impossibly deep in your cunt, like he’s carving himself inside with every slap, stroke and thrust of his hips. There is nothing you can do but lay there and take it.
With every thrust, he almost growls into your ear as he possesses you. The slap of his balls against you and the wet squelch of your cunt is loud in the room as he continues to wreck you.
The head of his cock drags over that spot that makes you see stars and you twitch and jerk against him, completely overwhelmed by him.
You hiss when he reaches between you to press the pad of his thumb against your sensitive clit. He flicks it against it before starting to rub small circles that make you quiver under him and clench around him.
Josh’s face is the epitome of concentration as he drives his dick inside you again and again, his brow furrowed as he fucks the both of you towards your high.
You scream when you come. Blinding pleasure shoots through your veins, expanding from inside you and engulfing you. His lips come down to kiss you, capturing you in a feverish and feral kiss. Your teeth click together as he devours you and continues to slam into you.
With a load groan, he pushes into you as deep as possible, clutching you tightly as his hips jerk and he spills inside you.
He kisses you, hard and short while he keeps his hips flush with yours as he rocks them, milking himself dry.
It feels almost soft when he pushes your damp hair from your face and cups your cheek as you catch your breath. The kiss you share is lazy and soft, your hands comb through his hair lightly. You wrap your arms around him tightly, holding him close and savouring the feeling of his body on yours.
The post-orgasmic bliss disperses suddenly when you feel him soften inside you, his cum leaking onto the bed.
“Shit, Josh,“ panic is evident in your voice, “Get up.“
The realisation hits you, that Josh just ruined you in the room of his son - on his desk and bed. You know that you can’t pretend that this never happened, not when you know how perfect he feels inside you or how he looks when he comes.
His quiet laugh irritates you at first but your eyes flutter closed again when he presses his lips against yours.
“It will be fine,“ Josh’s blue eyes shine bright as he traces your lips with his thumb, “Let’s get cleaned up first. And then I’d like to take you out for some food.“
“Yeah… yeah,“ you start, a smile on your features, “I’d like that.“
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