Jensen is busy setting out the last of the candles for mass when he hears heavy footsteps behind him. He turns just in time to see a pale faced Father Jim stumble into the room and rushes forward to steady the older man. Close up, Jensen can see the sweat on the man’s face, his flushed cheeks and eyes glassy with fever, “Father Jim, I don’t think you’re in any state to be taking mass today, you should go and rest.”
Jim looks like he’s about to protest but then thinks better of it, “I think you’re right, Jensen, I’ll ask Father Jeffrey to stand in. Would you hear confession, today?”
Jensen freezes, his mouth going dry at the thought. Normally he wouldn’t hesitate, it’s an important part of his job, but today he knows that Colin is here and that causes…complications, the kind that he really should go to confession for, himself. He can’t really refuse, not when Jim looks like he’s about to pass out any minute, “Of course, Father,” he says with a voice that sounds steadier than it feels. He loops the older priest’s arm around his neck and guides him towards the door, “let’s get you back to your room.”
Half an hour later, Jensen is wearing his surplice over his cassock, the purple stole being crumpled in his hands as he wrings them nervously, looking out into the church. From his place behind one of the pillars he can see a small queue formed by the confessional booth, Colin about two thirds down. He’s leaning against one of the pews, chatting with a couple of boys that Jensen recognises from the basketball team he’s just started helping Father Jeffrey coach, but he can’t recall their names right now.
Before he can help himself, Jensen’s eyes sweep over Colin’s body, starting with his feet purely because Jensen quickly lowered his eyes in shame once he’d registered where Colin was. He’s wearing scuffed black boots loosely tied with too long laces which fall on the floor where the teen has one ankle crossed over the other, well fitted – but not tight - faded blue jeans that accentuate his thighs where they pull tighter due to his stance. His black t-shirt hangs loose over his hips and belly, but starts getting more and more snug over his chest, upper arms and shoulders where he’s broadening out from his time on the court and in the gym. The v-neck cut of the shirt only serves to accentuate the kid’s long neck, then finally Jensen looks at Colin’s face. The teen runs a large hand through messily styled hair, and glances up, meeting Jensen’s eyes. Colin’s wide smile quickly turns to a wicked grin and he slowly licks his lips before lightly biting on the bottom one.
Jensen watches the movement, unable to look away and his breath catches in his throat, those sinful lips, he thinks. Colin raises one eyebrow ever so subtly and the older man’s knees feel a little weak. He quickly tries to pull himself together, dragging his eyes away from Colin’s, and busies himself by arranging his stole correctly before walking with purpose to the booth. He resolutely doesn’t look at Colin again, even when the teen sing songs, “Hi, Father Jensen.”
After what feels like an eternity, the same confessions over again, countless instructions, mentions of ‘Hail Marys’ and ‘Our Fathers’, Jensen feels almost sick with nerves. Colin has either changed his mind, or worse, he’s moving further down the queue just to mess with him…and Jensen knows from experience that the teen has no qualms about doing that. He jumps a little when the door closes in the compartment next to him, and the all too familiar voice says, “Bless me father for I have sinned.”
Jensen can hear the smirk in Colin’s voice but tries to ignore it, keeping his voice as steady as he can when he replies, “What are these sins?”
Colin huffs out a laugh, “Aren’t you supposed to ask me how long it’s been since my last confession?”
Jensen’s stomach flutters with guilt, “Er..yes, yes…how long has it been?”
“Two weeks,” Colin says, “since our last time together.”
Jensen swallows, he knows what Colin’s up to and he’s doing his best not to get drawn in, “Since I last heard your confession, you mean?
“Yes, Father. Do you want me to list my sins?”
“Yes,” Jensen says, his palms already starting to sweat in anticipation and discomfort, Colin’s confessions are always detailed.
He hears the bench creak as Colin leans closer to the grille separating them. It’s dark enough that Jensen can’t see his face fully – thank the Lord – but there’s enough light that he can see his silhouette and the shape of Colin’s mouth as he speaks.
“Well, Father, I continue to have lustful thoughts,” his voice lowers a little, “absolutely filthy ones, Father.”
Jensen’s warring with his duty and conscience versus his desire, but he to has to ask, “Have you acted on these thoughts?”
“Oh yes, Father,” Colin replies, sounding almost gleeful, “I’ve touched myself…over and over. I can’t stop thinking about someone in particular, and what we could do in reality instead of in my head.”
The young priest’s pulse is rising with anticipation, “Are these thoughts something that could happen within the sanctity of marriage?”
“Not at all, Father. The Catholic church doesn’t allow it.”
“I can’t offer you guidance if you don’t tell me everything,” Jensen says, knowing immediately that he’s fallen right into Colin’s trap.
“They’re homosexual acts, Father…even worse in the church’s eyes, acts I want to carry out with a man of the cloth,” Jensen opens his mouth, not sure what he’s going to say, but is saved fumbling his words by Colin continuing his confession, “you see, he’s so hot, Father. He’s pure sin, he has the most beautiful eyes and lips. Jesus, those lips, I just know they’d feel perfect wrapped around my cock. And his body…”
Jensen’s pulse ratchets up even more, pounding in his ears and he’s getting hard under his cassock, despite trying desperately not to, “I don’t need,” he pauses to suck in a breath, “I don’t need so many details, Colin.”
Colin tuts, then, “But I have to be honest, Father,” he says in a mock concerned tone, “I have to give a full confession, isn’t that right?”
Trying to ignore the heaviness of his cock, Jensen makes a noise which he thinks is an affirmative, wiping his sweaty palms on his thighs as he does so.
“OK, where was I? Oh yeah, he’s super hot, Father. Seriously, I get hard just from hearing him say my name. He’s built, too, but not too much…you can see it when we’re playing basketball…when he lifts his arms to throw the ball, his t-shirt pulls tight and shows off his muscles. It makes me want to go over there and pull the shirt off and run my hands, lips and tongue over them,” Colin moans, then, “and when it’s cold his nipples stand out and I want to suck on them, or pluck at them and see what noises he’d make. I just know they’d be beautiful noises.”
Jensen’s mouth is completely dry now, trying not to imagine what those soft, pink lips would feel like on his skin. His throat clenches and he swallows audibly. Again, Colin keeps talking.
“Then there’s his ass. I swear it’s perfect…round and firm looking, it looks fucking fantastic in his grey sweats. I look at it and I could cry because I can’t decide if I’d rather put my tongue or my fingers in it…maybe even both, and he’d do the same to me, too.”
Colin’s a little breathless, now, Jensen’s pleased to hear. The older man’s chest is rising and falling quickly as he tries not to imagine what that would also feel like. His ass muscles involuntarily flutter at the phantom feeling and his face flushes even more, sweat beginning to pool in the hollow of his throat. “You shouldn’t curse, Colin.” Jensen grits out, trying not to sound affected by the teen’s words.
“He has the most beautiful thighs, too, Father, they look solid and perfect to hold on to while I lick and suck his cock. He’d be fucking my mouth and I’d scrape my nails down those thighs, marking him up. I’ve imagined his cock, too, Father. When he wears those grey sweats, they show the outline of it. Even soft it looks thick, like he’d make my ass feel so full. I push my fingers inside myself at night, imagining it’s him, but it’s not enough. They’re long but not thick enough, it’s never going to be enough until I can feel his cock splitting me open.”
“Fuck!” Jensen moans before he can help himself, gripping the bench underneath him with one hand and pressing the heel of the other to his rock hard dick. He knows it’s wrong but the pressure is so good. Every time he’s heard Colin’s confession he’s been hard and wanting by the end of it, always refusing to do anything to relieve his desire, but the teen has never sounded quite so turned on before and Jensen’s powerless to resist.
“You shouldn’t curse, Father,” Colin throws back, before a breathy moan escapes him and…that’s new.
“Colin,” Jensen sits forward on the bench and grips it with both hands now, “put your hands on the grille where I can see them.” Colin’s left hand reaches out and slams against the metal, his fingers curving through the mesh, “and the other…” Jensen holds his breath.
“Can’t,” Colin pants, his voice strained, “I’m using it.”
Jensen’s dizzy with arousal now, he feels sweat trickle down his neck and soak into the stole around it. His dick twitches and stomach drops with realisation, but he has to ask, has to have it confirmed, “Are you…,” he swallows, forcing the words out in a whisper, “are you touching yourself now?”
“God, yes!” Colin moans.
“You have to stop,” Jensen says urgently, even as he feels his boxers get wetter where he’s leaking pre-come into them, “please Colin, you can’t do this!” he pleads.
“Can’t stop,” comes the reply, “I want him so bad, Father. Like I said, even his voice gets me hard, especially when,” Colin’s voice wavers and Jensen can hear the wet slap of skin, “especially when he wants me, too. He knows he shouldn’t, but he does, and we both know it. Hearing the desire in his voice even as he’s telling me to stop drives me crazy.”
Jensen’s whole body is buzzing, he’s desperately trying not to think about what’s going on next door, but he fails, miserably. He can picture Colin leaning back on the bench, his t-shirt pulled up to uncover his stomach and chest, long legs spread wide, jeans and boxers tucked under his balls to leave enough room for his huge palm and long fingers to wrap around his dick. Jensen imagines he can smell the saltiness of Colin’s sweat and pre-come, and he licks his lips at the thought of what he imagines to be a long, slim cock, in line with his overall body shape. The bench creaks rhythmically now and Jensen knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Colin’s hand is working his cock faster and harder, his harsh pants getting louder as he gets closer and closer.
The priest can picture the teen’s eyes closed and mouth slack with pleasure as Colin whimpers. The wet sounds are getting louder and faster, Colin’s breath is becoming more laboured in between soft little mewls of pleasure. Just as the older man is convinced someone is going to wrench the door to the booth open, knowing full well what’s happening, Colin lets out a guttural moan that’s unmistakably Jensen’s name. That sound combined with the fact that he can almost see spurts of come landing on Colin’s chest pushes Jensen over the edge, coming untouched. He brings hand to his mouth and bites down hard on the flesh to muffle his own groan, while slamming his other one against Colin’s on the grille, the heat of it making Jensen shiver alongside his orgasm.
Colin recovers first, tucking himself back into his jeans and managing to speak while Jensen is still desperately trying to catch his breath, “So, Father, what should my punishment be?”
“Penance, not punishment,” the priest manages with some effort.
Colin snorts, “Same difference, it’s all meant to make us feel guilty.”
Jensen thinks about that for a minute, “Do you feel guilty? Are you sorry for your sins?”
The reply comes instantaneously and with a conviction Jensen hadn’t anticipated, “No, not in the slightest. I’m not going to feel guilty for something that’s perfectly natural!” The priest can hear Colin breathing heavily again, but this time it sounds like defiance.
“Then I can’t absolve you.”
Colin’s quiet for a while, then lays his outstretched hand against the grille between them again, “I don’t need it, all I wanted to know was if you feel the same as I do, and I think you’ve proved it today.”
The priest knows he should be denying it, telling Colin how wrong all of this is, even planning the words for his own confession, but all he can do is raise a shaky hand to the grille and press it against the teen’s.
“He’s not coming back,” a kid whose name Colin doesn’t know, says, “it’s been three months, face it, he’s gone. There’s other coaches.”
Colin feels a surge of anger, “It’s not just about a coach,” he spits, “Father Jensen, he…he’s special.”
“That’s awful nice of you to say,” a familiar voice calls out.
Colin spins around so fast he almost loses his balance. Once the shock has worn off, he feels a huge sense of relief and rushes forward, throwing his arms around the older man, “Father Jensen, I’m so glad you’re back.”
The teen feels the hug being returned, “It’s just Jensen, now.” Colin pulls back in disbelief and blinks. The former priest just shrugs and unzips his jacket, throwing it on the floor before turning his back to Colin and slowly bending over to pick up a ball. When he stands, he’s smirking. It takes Colin a minute for his brain to catch up.
“Grey sweats,” he says with a smile.
Jensen just winks.