Chapter Text
Eddie was minding his own fucking business. It’s not his fault he’s now sitting in a church, a Catholic church of all places, waiting impatiently for the service to start. He was just walking down the street – minding his own business – and thinking about the D&D campaign he’s running, because his players are smart, despite themselves, so he’s got to work hard on giving them legitimate obstacles. He had no intentions of doing anything else today but chill at home, maybe play his guitar a bit, and get ready for the next work week, because while he might not love his job, it pays the bills and it’s not horrendous.
So, he wandered past St. Nicholas of Myra’s Catholic Church, like he does whenever he walks through his neighborhood, because he likes taking walks. He doesn’t usually go past the church on Sundays, on account of there being a ton of Catholics around, and he’s not looking to be converted into anything, but he got a hankering for donuts, and the best donut shop in Hawkins is only a block away from the church, so he walked past, thinking it would be just a normal fucking day.
See? Minding his own business.
Eddie happened to wander back by with his donuts just as a service was letting out, people streaming from the doors to escape the no-doubt oppressive atmosphere inside. Eddie recognized a lot of people. Mrs. Byers is there, chatting with Hopper, who looks like he would rather be anywhere else. Mrs. Henderson in her massive, flowery hat and even bigger smile. Mrs. Cunningham is always present with her snobby attitude as she looks down her nose, silently judging everyone else. Will Byers rushes out the door to join the other kidlets at the bottom of the steps. Well, that’s his whole D&D group right there.
Eddie’s not about to move to greet them, mostly because Mrs. Cunningham is glaring at him like she wishes she could set him on fire just with the intensity of her stare. It’s not Eddie’s fault that she’s a raging bitch and he helped Chrissy get away from her.
All right, maybe it is his fault that Chrissy is no longer under her thumb, but whatever.
Eddie keeps walking, intent on just strolling right past the church, giving Mrs. Cunningham no reason to interact with him at all, and just minding his own business. Eddie sees the priest standing at the door, shaking hands and chatting with people as they leave, and trips over his fucking feet.
The man is gorgeous. If all priests were this pretty, Eddie would’ve become religious a long time ago. He’s young for a priest, or at least Eddie thinks he’s young for a priest. Honestly, he doesn’t know how old priests are supposed to be anyway. He just always assumed it was old, white dudes. It’s hard to tell what his body type is with the fancy green robe or whatever it’s called, but he’s got big, brown doe eyes, a wide smile that makes his eyes crinkle in the most adorable way, and fluffy, brown hair that is just dying for Eddie to get his hands into it. Eddie has the idle thought that he wants to have those beautiful eyes on him, and those sweet lips begging for him, while he tugs on that gorgeous hair, utterly ruining the man the way he so desperately needs to be ruined.
The priest’s eyes trail over the parishioners leaving, taking stock of who was there. And then his gaze snags on Eddie, currently standing with a bag of donuts and staring at the priest like a complete fucking moron. The priest’s eyes widen for a moment, eyes trailing up and down Eddie in a quick assessment. Yeah, yeah. Eddie knows what he looks like, and it’s definitely not the stuffy, buttoned-up…
The priest blushes.
Eddie forgets how to breathe.
The priest quickly turns away from him, fleeing into the church.
Well, Eddie now has to follow him, because if there is a God, He just gave Eddie the biggest sign in the world that he’s got to talk to this priest. And maybe flirt with him. Okay, that might be blasphemous, but Eddie’s an atheist anyway, so he doesn’t give a shit.
And that is why his dumb ass is currently sitting the the back pew of a Catholic church, waiting for the service to start so he can ogle the absurdly hot priest.
Eddie is such a moron.
It was supposed to be a normal Sunday.
Steve breathes slowly, in and out, trying to will his body into calming down, but the piercing gaze of the stranger is enough to have his blood boiling with desire.
Steve wasn’t doing anything special. He had just finished mass, walking with Will to the front doors so they could let the congregation out. Steve stole a quick moment for himself, as always, just breathing in the fresh air and straightening his vestments because they somehow always get in the way. He tries to take the quiet moments between services to himself as much as he can.
It’s only a moment, because then his parishioners emerged into the sunshine of the beautiful spring Sunday. The early service has what he calls his regulars. Mrs. Byers. She likes to sneak Steve cookies when no one is looking. Mrs. Henderson. She also likes to sneak Steve food. Perhaps Steve needs to make an announcement that he is not starving or struggling to eat, if all these women keep wanting to feed him. Hopper. He’s trying desperately to work up the nerve to ask Mrs. Byers for a date. Mrs. Cunningham. Her fingernails match her perfectly tailored outfit, and they dig into Steve’s hand when she shakes it after mass. And, as always, his parents – puffed up with pride that their prodigal son devoted his life in service of God.
Steve’s not sure he had another option, but he’s not about to say that out loud.
It was a normal Sunday.
Steve finished shaking Mrs. Cunningham’s hand, hiding the wince as her nails dig in yet again, and waved at Will as he ran past, having gone to the back to the sacristy to take off his alb before escaping. Steve smiles as the boy runs over to his friends, chatting excitedly about whatever it is teenage boys care about these days. Steve’s heard all their confessions, and it’s the same as teenage boys always are: lies, sex, and more lies, and more sex.
Not that he can blame them. He’s been chaste since he took his orders. Well, okay, that’s not strictly true. He’s masturbated. A lot. He went to seminary and did a lot of study and research, and while the Church condemns masturbation, Steve has accepted his sexual appetites as a reminder of how flawed and human he truly is. Besides, he goes to confession every week, and he hasn’t gotten laicized for rubbing one out yet.
Steve looked around at the people lingering outside the church, both people who just left service and those waiting to get in for the next one. Names and their associated secrets popped into his head as he took stock of his flock. And then his eyes caught on an unfamiliar man, lurking just off the church grounds and staring at Steve.
Steve’s heart stumbled to a stop in his chest, his gut flipping over at the sight of the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen in his life.
The man looked like every sin come to life in one person. He had brown eyes that seemed to pierce right into Steve’s soul, his lips parted like he just sucked in a sharp breath. His hair was curly and wild, draping down to his shoulders in an artful mess that Steve is obsessed with. He was wearing ripped up jeans, a Judas Priest shirt that he’d ripped the sleeves off, showing off his well defined biceps, and a flannel shirt tied around his hips – no doubt too warm from the spring weather to keep it on. He was carrying a bag that Steve recognized came from the donut shop just up the street. And he was still staring at Steve, like Steve was the finest meal he’d ever seen in his life.
Steve wants that man in the most profane and carnal sense. His mind unhelpfully tells him that with biceps like those, that man could pin him in place, hold him down while he…
It was supposed to be a normal Sunday.
Steve cleared his throat and turned away from the stranger. He got uncomfortably warm, his body reacting to the blatant sex appeal of the man with a vehemence that Steve’s never experienced before. He got an erection and all he did was look at the man. God save him, Steve cannot bring himself to even care. It took all his self-control to walk carefully to the sacristy and then force himself to pray instead of ripping his vestments off and taking care of his throbbing need.
That was ten minutes ago and he’s still no closer to calming down than he was when he walked in here.
God, he needs to get laid. And he doesn’t even care if that’s blasphemy, because it’s true.
Steve focuses on clenching other muscles in his body – his hands, his arms, his legs, his stomach – anything else. Fortunately, blood flows away from his erection and towards his extremities instead, so he’s finally able to get rid of the extremely uncomfortable and inconvenient reaction to the most gorgeous man —
No. Steve just got rid of his erection. He’s not going to think about the man. Unfortunately, willing away a hard on does nothing to get rid of the arousal making him still feel flush.
It’s not like he’s ever going to see the man again, so he can just get rid of any and all thoughts regarding him. Ignoring how he was dressed, the man looked as out of place standing outside the church as Steve would feel in a bar. And that was outside. There’s not a chance of the man ever coming any closer than that, so Steve is never going to see him again. And Steve can move on from the instant attraction. Any time now.
Dustin stumbles over his feet as he rushes in, face flushed and babbling a mile a minute about shoes of all things. Steve really likes the kid, and he’s glad Dustin feels comfortable enough with him to be, quite frankly, too honest. Steve knows all about his girlfriend. And Mike’s girlfriend. And Lucas’ girlfriend. And Will’s unholy crush on their dungeon master, whatever that means. Basically, the teenager has no filter and he should really develop one, because there’s only so much pubescent drama Steve can take. He survived puberty and high school, and he doesn’t need to relive it, even vicariously.
Steve laughs and teases the kid, because Dustin is really sweet despite how loud he is all the time, and Dustin quickly throws his alb on to get himself ready for the next mass. He’s almost always running a little late, which doesn’t bother Steve at all. Eventually, Dustin gets himself together and grabs the processional cross, shooting Steve a toothless grin before walking sedately out of the sacristy. Well, sedate for Dustin. It took two months of altar serving before Steve convinced him to slow the hell down.
Steve follows him along the side aisle to the back of the church, where they wait for Robin to start up the organ. Steve glances up at her, and she gives him a little wave – the only interaction they have before a service – before turning back to the keyboard. Robin herself does not practice, which upsets some of the more conservative members of the congregation, but Steve won’t hear anybody say anything about her lack of piety. She’s been his best friend long before he became a priest, and he’s not about to forget that she’s helped him through his worst times.
Robin starts up the music. Steve puts a hand on Dustin’s shoulder to make him wait for a few seconds. The kid is always in such a rush. Steve releases Dustin upon the masses, and smiles as the kid takes three steps too fast before remembering to slow down.
Steve’s gaze catches on wild, frizzy hair in the back row, and his heart stops in his chest. He quickly glances over to see the man, still wearing his ripped tank top and torn-up jeans, and with the bag of donuts sitting on the pew next to him, sitting like he owns the place. His arms are draped over the back of the pew as he lounges in the seat, watching Steve with rapt fascination. No one else is sitting near him, either too frightened by his appearance – for some absurd reason, Steve has no idea why – or not wanting to be even tangentially associated with a man who so blatantly does not belong.
Steve tears his gaze off the man, trying to hold his reaction inside. He pinches the back of his hand hard, in the vain attempt to keep himself from blushing or focusing too hard on this gorgeous stranger. Steve forces himself to walk down the aisle, plastering the practiced smile on his face to keep anyone from knowing that he is in agony. Steve walks up to the altar, kneels and crosses himself, and then up the steps to get to his seat off to the side. He stands there, waiting for Robin to finish up the song, his thoughts all over the place.
He has to perform a mass.
He has to deliver a homily.
He has to give communion.
Good God, he’s going to be standing in front of his whole congregation, and he’s going to get an erection all thanks to the gorgeous man in the back row who is still staring at him!
God must be testing him to put such a temptation right there.
Steve sucks in a deep breath as the organ blares out the final chord. He is not going to give into temptation. He is not going to get an erection in the middle of mass, because he is no longer a hormonal and confused teenager. He is going to be professional and calm and give the best damn mass he’s ever given in his life. Because there’s a chance that if he does well, the stranger will want to come back.
Wait. Crap. No. The man is supposed to go away and leave Steve to his suffering!
Damn it.
Steve has been pretending his whole life, for his parents, for his friends – except Robin – for his priests, for his teachers… he can pretend a little longer.
Steve pretends like he’s completely fine as silence rings throughout the space in the wake of the music.
Showtime.
Eddie grips the back of the pew as tightly as he can. His hands ache, but he doesn’t dare let go, because holding on is the only reason he hasn’t gotten hard in the middle of mass. Fucking hell, this priest is God’s gift to mankind. He speaks with a confident authority beyond his apparent age. Eddie listened to the murmurs and gossip before the service started, learning this man is named Steve Harrington, and that’s a problem, because now Eddie is fucking obsessed and has a name to fuel his fantasies.
Father Steve smiles and delivers a homily speaking of kindness and gentleness, trying to convince his congregation into behaving like Jesus Christ, rather than spouting his words and proclaiming themselves to be good Catholics. It’s been a long fucking time since Eddie’s gone to mass, but he doesn’t remember the priest being so genuine and earnest in his desire for people to help others. He mostly remembers being bored out of his mind. He recalls the last time he ever went to mass, because it was the last time Uncle Wayne came to mass. The priest delivered a sermon equating allowing your child to be gay with giving them bleach to drink.
They never came back.
Eddie was only eight, but he vividly remembers the rage on Uncle Wayne’s face, and then they never talked about it again.
Eddie doesn’t remember the words to most of the prayers, though the Hail Mary is still stuck in his mind. He is a little perturbed by some of the word changes, things like “and also with you” – which always made him think of Star Wars – have become “and with your spirit.” Still, it’s not his religion and not his business that they changed the words around.
But Father Steve, fuck Father Steve says every word, delivers every prayer, like it fucking matters. It’s that passion that steals Eddie’s attention. Eddie doesn’t get up for communion. For one, while he might’ve been baptised and gone through Communion and Reconciliation, he’s not practicing and he doesn’t want to draw too much attention to himself, given that he’s not supposed to be here. Besides, according to Catholic dogma, if he partakes of the dry-as-fuck wafers and backwashy wine, then he’s going to Hell, because he hasn’t confessed his sins.
More importantly, he has no idea how he’s going to walk if he goes up to the front and gets face-to-face with his walking wet dream while the man puts a wafer on his tongue. All right, so technically he could take the wafer in his hand, but Eddie is a whore, and given the opportunity, he is absolutely going to let that gorgeous of a man put something in his mouth.
It’s not his dick, but Eddie can always fantasize about that part later.
Mass wraps up and Eddie has managed to keep himself from prostrating across the steps before the altar, begging Father Steve for any crumb or scrap of attention. He decides he has been victorious and declares to himself that he will never come back, because that’s just asking for trouble, and despite how hot the priest is, he doesn’t want to sit through mass after mass after mass when he definitely doesn’t believe.
Father Steve walks out behind Dustin, eyes trained on the back wall. His gaze flickers over to Eddie for a brief moment, and Eddie can see him suck in a gasp.
Oh. Fuck.
Eddie collapses in the pew as the rest of the congregation flows out of the church, talking about the mass and what their plans are for the rest of their Sunday. Mrs. Wheeler stops by the pew, holding her little one, and asking Eddie about the time of the next D&D session so she can make sure Mike gets there on time. Eddie makes himself focus to chat with her a bit and then decides to escape while he can. He follows along behind masses, sedately carrying his donuts like he’s not blatantly out of place.
Father Steve stands outside the doors, like he was earlier, shaking hands and chatting amiably with people as they leave.
Eddie should walk away. He should slip away and go back home, where he has privacy to explore all the profane fantasies he has gotten just from being near this gorgeous man.
He steps forward in the gap between people, and Father Steve’s eyes widen, his lips parting as a pink flush covers his cheeks. Oh fuck, he’s cute.
Eddie holds his hand out, smiling at him, because he can be nice.
Father Steve clears his throat and plasters a smile on his face. It’s different from the one he had in the church, somehow more real, less… plastic. “It’s always nice to see a new face. I’m Father Steve Harrington.”
“Eddie Munson,” Eddie introduces himself. “The pleasure is all mine.”
Okay, maybe he shouldn’t be flirting, especially with a priest, but who can blame him?!
Father Steve’s blush darkens, his lips twitching as he bites back some comment. Eddie wants to know what he was about to say. Eddie wants to know if this priest, if this gorgeous man has a sense of humor.
God, that would just fucking ruin Eddie for the rest of his life.
“I haven’t seen you around before,” Father Steve says politely. “Are you new here?”
Eddie shakes his head. “Nah. I’m a Catholic in Recovery.”
Wait. Shit. He probably shouldn't have said that to a Catholic priest.
Father Steve laughs. The sound burrows into Eddie’s hindbrain until he’s addicted already. God, he wants to kiss this man so bad.
Eddie clears his throat and tugs at his hair. “I came here as a kid, but the previous priest was… well, my uncle didn’t care for him, so we stopped coming.”
Father Steve’s smile falls and he nods. “Yes, my predecessor had a very specific… message he wanted to spread.”
“I like your message better,” Eddie admits.
Father Steve’s smile comes back, and yeah, Eddie is fucking ruined. That smile is going to tear him apart and make him do the most profane things of his life, and he’s going to thank God for the opportunity.
“Come back next week. Maybe I’m only a one-hit wonder.”
It takes everything Eddie has not to melt, because from anyone else, he would take the words as flirting. But this is a priest. There is no way Father Steve is flirting with anyone, much less a random guy who has already proclaimed himself as Not Catholic. But then Father Steve winks at him, and Eddie is a fucking goner.
And Eddie must be fucking pathetic because he does come back. Week after week after week. He continues to wear his jeans and t-shirts, because he’s there for Father Steve and not to convert, but people stop staring at him. He sits in the back and ogles Father Steve and pretends like he’s not the most pathetic loser in all of existence. He still refrains from going up for communion, because that seems to be a line too far, but he doesn’t manage to keep himself from flirting with the priest every chance he gets.
And, because he’s a true masochist, he even goes to confession.
Eddie isn’t dumb enough to move the screen so he can see Father Steve properly, but he can see the man’s profile, can hear the smile in his voice when he asks Eddie for his confession, and that is more than enough for Eddie to lose his collective shit.
And maybe Eddie confesses to some… scandalous things, but that’s because he’s a little shit more than he’s actually going to cleanse his soul or anything. He’s pushing boundaries, and he knows it, but Father Steve hasn’t once said anything about it, hasn’t once put Eddie back in his place, hasn’t once demanded Eddie leave and never come back. In fact, Father Steve typically clears his throat and pretends like Eddie has confessed to some bland something or other, moving on to offering Eddie things to do in penance.
Eddie doesn’t do any of the penance, and they both know it.
There’s no one else in the church when Eddie steps into the booth, shutting the door behind him and sitting on the cushy chair. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been seven days since my last confession.”
“You’re so old school,” Father Steve mutters. “You don’t have to tell me when you went to confession last, I was there.”
This isn’t new. Father Steve caught on quick that Eddie is not one for all the pomp and circumstance. It’s probably not technically appropriate to treat this rite like a relaxed conversation, but if Father Steve doesn’t care, then Eddie isn’t about to.
Eddie chuckles. “You were there in my dreams last night.”
Father Steve sighs, because he’s heard this one before. “And the night before that, and the night before that, I’m sure.”
“Hey, it’s supposed to be my confession,” Eddie teases.
Father Steve lets out a tiny laugh. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Continue.”
“I have been struggling with lust,” Eddie tells him.
“Tell me something I don’t know, devil.”
Eddie grins at the pet name. The first time Father Steve said it, Eddie’s heart stopped in his fucking chest. He can hear the fondness with every repetition and he’s addicted to it. This might be beyond inappropriate, but he can’t help it. Father Steve is too damn gorgeous, and funny, and kind, and yeah, maybe Eddie’s in love with a priest, but it’s not like anything’s ever going to come of it.
“I have been lusting for a man of the cloth,” Eddie continues, like Father Steve did not speak, “and I’ve been masturbating every single day since we met, thinking only of him.”
Father Steve sucks in a sharp breath.
“Sometimes, when I’m in church, I watch him as he’s delivering the homily or praying or blessing the communion and I get aroused.”
This is the point at which Eddie usually stops, or Father Steve stops him, and then they move on, because Eddie might be a whore, but he’s not about to make Father Steve uncomfortable. Eddie hesitates, waiting to see how the man wants to handle the situation this time.
Father Steve’s voice comes out a little rough, “continue.”
Eddie stops breathing for a moment, and he’s immediately hard. He usually gets an erection while in confession, and while that’s definitely not appropriate, it’s not like he ever touches himself or admits it aloud. It’s just part and parcel of being in an intimate setting with such a hot priest.
“I think about all the things I want to do to him, all the things I want him to do to me, and I just… can’t help it,” Eddie murmurs, testing this new territory gently. “I get an erection. I don’t touch myself, but I want to. And I want him to know. To know I’m sitting in the back of the church, watching him, and wishing I could stroke my cock just because of him.”
Father Steve moans.
The sound is choked off and barely audible, but unmistakable.
Oh.
Oh.
Eddie is going to have fun.
Steve tries to muffle himself, pressing his hand to his mouth. He’s never been harder in his entire life and it’s all thanks to the most infuriatingly gorgeous man to walk the earth.
Ever since Eddie breezed into Steve’s life, he’s been suffering. Eddie is walking, talking temptation and sin, all wrapped in one glorious package of sex appeal and blasé freedom. Eddie is everything Steve is not – independent and self-assured and apathetic to all the judgmental looks and stares and comments he receives on a daily basis. He’s charming and funny and sweet and unfailingly kind. Steve learned within two minutes of meeting the man that he runs D&D campaigns for the teenagers in Steve’s congregation.
Dustin loudly proclaimed his joy at seeing Eddie at church for everyone and their mother to hear as soon as Eddie introduced himself to Steve.
And Eddie has been lingering around ever since, torturing Steve because Steve cannot touch, isn’t even supposed to look. And Steve wasn’t sure how long it would take before he fell from grace, but he didn’t anticipate it being due to one unfairly gorgeous man.
“I know it’s blasphemous,” Eddie continues, voice smooth as silk, “but I just see him and want. Just thinking about him is enough to fill me with lust. Just talking about it right now has my cock rock hard in my jeans.”
Steve pants into his palm, squeezing his eyes shut in the vain attempt to keep himself calm. It was a dangerous game he started with Eddie, and it began with the first time Eddie confessed to being attracted to Steve. Steve should have shut him down, pushed him to pray on the feelings, to perhaps go to a different church in order to distance himself from these base feelings, but he didn’t. No, Steve let Eddie push and push and push because he’s just a man. At first, he tried to convince himself that he was just giving Eddie an outlet, that it was a way to curb Eddie’s lustful thoughts, because he is singularly focused on Steve, and since Steve cannot give him what he desires, his lust has nowhere to go.
Now, Steve has to admit it’s because he has given in to the temptation. There’s a wall between them, and a screen, keeping Steve from seeing Eddie properly, but he can hear the way Eddie shuffles in his chair, trying to find a comfortable position given that he has an erection.
“Getting erections is not a sin,” Steve points out, voice low and rough with his arousal. Damn it. He swallows tightly to calm himself down.
It doesn’t work.
“I know,” Eddie agrees, “but my cock doesn’t care if it’s during mass, if it’s during communion, if it’s during confession… I know we pray on our knees, but I want to be on my knees to worship someone else altogether.”
The coarse words dig under Steve’s skin until he feels insane. His body is too hot, his erection throbbing in his pants with every word out of Eddie’s mouth.
As if the implication isn’t clear enough, Eddie continues, “I want his cock in my mouth. I want his cock in my throat. I want to gag and moan around him while he tugs on my hair, fucking my face. Maybe during communion, walk right up to him just to worship his cock the way it deserves.”
The image comes to Steve unbidden. He can see Eddie walking up to him during communion and instead of praying or signing the cross, he drops to his knees, eyes big and full of mischief, mouth open with his tongue out as he begs… Oh, God, he would beg. He’s all but begging now.
“God, he’s so fucking sexy,” Eddie moans, the sound driving Steve insane with need. Steve can hear the man stretch out beside him. He hears the distinct sound of a zipper, and a pitiful whimper bursts out of Steve’s chest. Eddie just pulled his erection out. Steve knows it. Eddie’s going to start stroking himself. He’s going to masturbate right then and there in the confessional, and Steve is just going to let him.
“You like your hair being pulled, devil?” Steve has not a single fucking clue why he would say that at all, let alone right here, right now! He’s going to die. He’s going to orgasm in his damn pants, and it’s going to be Eddie’s fault, and then he’s going to die.
Eddie lets out a soft moan. “Mmm, yes. Feels so good. Especially when my mouth is being used like a toy. A warm, wet hole just for someone else’s pleasure.”
Steve digs his nails into his thigh, praying to God for the self-control and patience necessary to survive this encounter. The pain does nothing but make him harder.
“You’d just open up for anyone?”
Damn it all, why is Steve encouraging this? He needs to shut the hell up.
Steve hears Eddie let out a tiny hiss of pleasure, obviously wrapping a hand around himself. “Not just anyone, daddy.”
Steve’s whole body jerks, a curse torn from his lips without his consent. God, Eddie is going to kill him.
“You like that?” Eddie asks, voice light and teasing. “Everyone else calls you ‘father’. Their spiritual guide into the arms of God. Not me. I don’t need a guide in order to see the face of God.”
Steve fights every single urge in him to respond, because he needs to not.
“Every single time I cum, picturing you and your cock, I see it. You’re not my guide towards God, you’re my guide towards sexual bliss, daddy.” Eddie does not need prompting. “Like right now. I’m hard and leaking.” Eddie’s breathing hitches and Steve can hear him stroke himself slowly. “I bet you are, too. I can hear you panting and moaning. You’re trying so hard to be good. Being such a good boy, keeping your hands to yourself.”
Pleasure rockets through Steve, his erection leaking in his pants as he sucks in air. Something about those words burrows into the very marrow of his bones, making his every sense nothing but desire and need. Good God, he needs Eddie like he needs air.
“You don’t have to be good anymore, daddy.” The endearment spills from Eddie’s lips like a blessing. It’s not a kink, not that Steve can tell, but a teasing mockery of Steve’s title. A soft, fervent prayer that is far more intimate than it should be. Steve should be offended, but instead he adores it, and that is going to be his downfall.
“I’m… fine,” Steve lies through gritted teeth.
“You’re not,” Eddie murmurs, voice soft and soothing, “you’re hard, so hard, and you shouldn’t suffer anymore.”
Steve stares down at the blatant tenting in his pants, chewing on his lower lip and wondering when he lost control of the situation.
“Pull your cock out,” Eddie orders.
Steve wants to. God, he wants to. He wants to obey every little thing Eddie tells him to do, but he can’t. That’s a line too far. Right?
“Steve,” Eddie’s voice gains an edge, the promise of repercussions should Steve deny him again. “Pull your cock out. Now.”
Steve swallows down a whimper and obeys, tugging his cassock up to get at the button and zipper of his pants.
God, he’s utterly ruined now.
“Good boy,” Eddie praises.
Steve’s mind goes light, all higher thoughts flying away as his brain fogs over with arousal so intense he can’t even breathe. He presses his palm to his mouth, trying to keep himself quiet.
Eddie clicks his tongue in disappointment. “I want to hear you, hear all the gorgeous and needy sounds you make, hear you come apart.”
“Eddie…” Steve chokes out the name.
Eddie groans a curse under his breath, and Steve can hear the chair creak underneath him, like he just jerked in place. “God, you’re so fucking gorgeous, daddy. It’s unfair. Touch yourself. Wrap those beautiful fingers around your beautiful cock. Nice and slow. You’re going to cum when I say so and not a second sooner.”
Eddie’s words are blasphemous and Steve doesn’t even care anymore. He obeys the order, pleasure so intense that it hurts slamming into him at the contact.
“Breathe,” Eddie orders. His voice comes out a little rueful, “pent up, daddy? I bet you are. I bet you fight the urge to touch yourself every time you get hard. Your cock is so desperate and touch-starved. Stop torturing yourself. Fuck your hand.”
Steve pants for air. He squeezes his eyes shut, letting his head fall back. His mind can’t focus beyond the pleasure, beyond the warm and teasing voice of Eddie, so close and yet so far away. Slowly, gingerly, Steve strokes at his erection, voice coming out a thin, high-pitched moan. He can’t help but sound so pitiful, his whole body keyed up for an orgasm so intense it will ruin him. And Eddie is right there beside him, also stroking his own erection, his voice and words destroying every thread of sanity Steve still has.
Eddie chuckles, almost sounding like his lips are against Steve’s ear. Steve breathes hard, pleasure fogging up his mind until there’s nothing but him, his erection, and Eddie. “You’re not listening, daddy,” Eddie teases, “you’re stroking yourself. I didn’t say ‘masturbate’, I said ‘fuck your hand’.”
Steve’s confused for all of a second before he realizes what Eddie wants him to do. A pitiful keening whine emerges from his throat.
“Imagine it’s me,” Eddie tells him, “right there in front of you, on my knees praying to the only god I care about. Fuck my face, daddy.”
Steve can see it, exactly as Eddie described, the man kneeling between his legs with those big, brown eyes that promise pleasure beyond Steve’s wildest imagination. His hips jerk up, thrusting into his fist. He moans, slumping into the chair.
“Good boy,” Eddie purrs, the praise making Steve thrust faster, hips moving on their own as he seeks out the elusive ecstasy of his orgasm. Steve can hear Eddie curse, can hear the sounds of his hand on his erection, the creaking of his chair as he rolls his hips into his own hand. Steve realizes that Eddie is keeping time with him, matching Steve thrust for thrust, touch for touch, and it’s almost enough to have him lose his damn mind.
“Eddie, please…” Steve murmurs.
“Please what?” Eddie asks, sounding as breathless as Steve feels. Well, at least Steve isn’t the only one falling apart. “Use your words.”
“I…” Steve can’t say it out loud. Can he? He’s going to have to if he wants to end this beautiful torture. “I need to… finish.”
Eddie groans, the sound so full of pleasure that Steve almost peaks right there. “Finish what? Finish confession? Finish talking to me?”
Damn him. He’s going to make Steve say it. “I need to orgasm.” Steve gets the word out with only a little hesitation.
“Say ‘cum’.”
Steve chokes, losing his rhythm as he thrusts into his hand. “W-what?”
“Say that you need to cum,” Eddie repeats, panting for air. He sounds close to orgasm as well. “Ask me for permission to cum, daddy.”
Steve’s whole face burns, despite everything. He shouldn’t be able to feel shame anymore after this depravity. And yet… “Please, devil…”
Eddie chokes and Steve can hear him speed up, rocking his hips faster. Steve speeds up as well, too entwined with Eddie’s pleasure to deny him. Steve can feel it – his orgasm – and it’s going to slam into him so hard that he’s going to black out. He’s going to die right here in the confessional, all because of the man he’s obsessed with, and he’s going to go to pearly gates and admit his lusts aloud, and he’s not going to regret a single fucking thing.
“May I cum, Eddie?” Steve grits out, holding back his orgasm by the skin of his teeth.
Eddie moans, long and low. “Thank you for using your words.”
Now, it’s Steve’s turn to choke, whole body tightening in anticipation.
“Yes, you may cum,” Eddie tells him. “Cum for me, daddy.”
Ecstasy rolls over Steve like a tidal wave, his body bowing out of his chair while he peaks. Every nerve lights on fire with pleasure so intense that it hurts in the best possible way. Steve pants for air while he floats in bliss, his erection jerking in his hand as he spills every drop of himself out onto the floor. Steve collapses in a heap, trembling in aftershocks.
It takes him a moment, but then he realizes that Eddie is still thrusting.
“Devil,” Steve’s voice comes out rough and hoarse, “may God, who has enlightened every heart, help you to know your sins and trust in his mercy.”
Eddie stops breathing entirely.
“Amen,” Steve says, like a benediction.
Steve can see the silhouette of Eddie jerk in place as he breathes out the prayer, peaking in an instant. Steve can’t see anything, and it’s the worst thing he’s ever experienced in his life, knowing this gorgeous man is having an orgasm right there and Steve doesn't get to even watch.
Shit. He’s not supposed to watch. He’s not supposed to do any of this!
But, God, Eddie is just too much for Steve’s sanity.
Steve looks away from Eddie, who’s still fighting through his orgasm to see the damage he’s done. Fortunately, he didn’t get anything on his cassock, so it’s a simple matter to zip up his pants and straighten his robes. The rest of the confessional is another story. Ropes of semen are draped across the floor. Steve apparently peaked so hard that he hit the door with it, a splatter of his seed spread across the wood. Steve looks up, trying to make sure he didn’t hit the ceiling, but fortunately the rest of the confessional is unscathed.
Steve hears Eddie zip his jeans back up and focuses, when Eddie murmurs, “a-fucking-men.”
He should reprimand him. He should tell Eddie to leave and never come back. He should order Eddie to scrub the semen out of both booths as his penance.
“Ten Hail Mary’s,” he says instead.
Eddie chuckles. “And?”
“And I’ll see you in mass tomorrow.”
Eddie hesitates. “I… sort of made a mess.”
“I’ve got it.” Steve has not a single fucking clue why he’s not freaking out on Eddie right now. “Enjoy the rest of your Saturday, devil.”
He can hear Eddie’s smirk. “You, too… Father.”
Steve slumps in his chair as Eddie leaves the booth.
He is never going to survive this gorgeous man.
He’s not sure he wants to.