(no subject)
Title: Confession
Pairing: Billie/Mike, one-sided Rev/young!Billie
Notes: Rev’s kind of a pedo!creeper in this one, though he doesn’t outright molest Billie or anything...
Disclaimer: The people own themselves, and the personas are property of those people. But not property of me. This is fiction.
Summary: The Rev is startled by an unusual confession at church from an unlikely confessor.
Rating: R
Also, I'd like to thank spikeswhiterose for being my beta on this piece! <3 :)
Reverend Strychnine sighed as another sorry sinner shuffled out of the confessional. The small booth was cramped and dark, and this was only morning mass. A slouching figure stepped inside next, awkwardly settling in the small space. Strychnine waited as the young Catholic closed the small door, trying to keep his own unholy thoughts from drifting to the well-stocked liquor cabinet he kept at home.
“Hello?” The person on the other side was obviously uncomfortable. “You’re in there, right?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. Okay, then.”
Strychnine had to stifle his urge to laugh at the awkwardness of this young churchgoer. He waited a few moments but the boy wasn’t forthcoming.
“Is there anything you’d like to confess?” He tried helping him along, reaching into his robe at the same time for the small flask he kept tucked on his person at all times.
“Uh…” The kid scratched the back of his neck, looking extremely uncomfortable. Strychnine squinted through the screen at him, wondering if it was just the poor lighting or if this kid’s hair was really blue. “Shit. I mean, sorry, uh, shoot. I just don’t wanna be here, y’know? It’s nothing against- God, or Jesus or you or anything, but I just… don’t like church.”
“Really?” He tried to sound interested, though he could hardly blame the kid for his lack of enthusiasm. Quietly, he unscrewed the lid.
“Yeah. Mom made me come, this whole thing was her stupid idea.”
“Does she come regularly?” He wondered if he’d seen her, though he was pretty new to this parish.
“Nah, but Grandma does. Mom called Grandma after it happened and this was the first thing she could think of.” He stopped talking, the silence abrupt.
“After what happened?”
No response.
“Why’d your mother call your grandmother?”
Still no answer.
“Did something happen to make your mother concerned about you?”
The silence dragged on. After taking a gulp of the burning brandy, the Reverend sighed.
“Son, I’m here for you to speak to. I cannot and will not repeat anything you tell me in here. I can offer you absolution for your sins.”
“But what if I didn’t do anything wrong?”
“What?” He was surprised by the kid’s fierce tone.
“You keep talking about these sins, but I didn’t do anything wrong! ‘Evil’, ‘sinful’, ‘wrong’- that’s what Mom and Grandma keep telling me but they don’t fucking understand-”
Strychnine soothed the boy. “Hush now, you just settle down. I ain’t here to judge you, that’s for our Lord to do, but He’s forgiving and so am I. Talk to me, son, probably ain’t nothin’ I haven’t heard before.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth Strychnine blushed, resolving to make more of an effort to keep the Southern twang from his voice. When the priest had interviewed him for the job he was happy with Strychnine’s easy manner but told him that the people around here would probably be more comfortable with a reverend they felt was native to the area. People are uncomfortable around foreigners, he explained, and Strychnine took the hint and did away with his accent. He could usually keep it under control but it still slipped out from time to time, especially when he was drinking.
Fortunately, the teenager on the other side of the screen didn’t appear to have noticed, presumably too involved with his own internal conflicts.
“So, you can’t tell anyone the things I tell you?”
Strychnine nodded. "Yes, that’s correct," he said out loud.
The young sinner sighed again, long and weary. Too weary for a kid his age to sound. Reverend Strychnine frowned as he wondered what could possibly be upsetting the boy so bad.
“I guess I’ll have to start from the beginning… so I have this friend-”
“Are we going hypothetical? Does your friend have problems?”
“No, I really do have this friend! His name’s Mike and I’ve known him for… Christ, like six years? Anyway, he’s my best friend. My absolute best friend- I can tell him anything and he tells me everything. We’re in a band, he lives with me-”
“Like brothers?”
“Uh… noo. Not really like that.” In the dark the boy was blushing, biting his lip.
“Alright…” The reverend couldn’t figure out where this was going. He took another drink.
“We’ve always been close but things have been weird with us lately.”
“People change, ain’t nothin’ to do with you. Sometimes-”
“Please stop, you really don’t understand.” He sounded annoyed, like he was trying to remain patient but having a hard time.
Strychnine stopped, as requested. He had yet to find that balance between offering advice and being a respectful listener. The boy was still quiet, his head in his hands on the other side and Strychnine humbly encouraged him to keep talking.
“I’m sorry. You can continue.”
“It’s just… you’re a fucking priest for crying out loud, and I don’t know what I’m doing in here in the first place. Can you just… I’m gonna try to get it all out, ‘kay?”
“Sure thing. I’ll listen, all nice'n quiet-like. Ain’t gonna hear a peep from me.”
“So we’re always been close, but lately… I dunno. I just started noticing things about him. Like his blue eyes, and his hair… it’s really soft.” The boy mumbled, head ducked and face heated as he thought of his friend.
Strychnine’s brow was furrowed, still not understanding. He sipped again from the flask, trying to be patient.
“I like him, Rev. I really do. Like, we’ve always been really good friends, but this thing happened and now I can’t stand being around him because I always wanna- and then last week- well, now he’s staying over at a friend’s. I’ve barely even seen him at school.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, babydoll. I think you best tell it right from the start.”
“A-all of it?” His voice was halting, nervous.
“All of it,” repeated Strychnine.
“Ok… well, last Saturday we were really drunk. Stoned, too- is that a sin?”
“Just keep goin’.” He took another drink and listened.
“No one saw you?” asked Billie. Mike shook his head, a smug, self-satisfied grin on his lips.
“No, they left me to close up the place and these customers had just left their drinks. One bottle was completely full, just left on the table.”
“Well fuck man, why don’t I work there?” Giggled Billie Joe, leaning in closer to his friend, who wrapped an easy arm around him. They were lying on Billie’s bed, stoned and more than tipsy off Mike’s stolen beer.
“Dunno man. You don’t haveta pay rent or anything, so why would you?”
“Free booze bitch, that’s why!”
Mike nodded. “Ah,” he said. “Good point.”
“I don’t know why my mom makes you even pay rent,” Billie went on, rambling in his intoxicated state. “‘S fuckin’ stupid, she likes you and I like you so you should just stay here for free.”
“The extra room I guess, I mean she could be renting it out to someone else and have them pay more.”
“Then why fuckin’ doesn’t she? You could stay in my room, I’ll clear all this shit up and make room for you.”
They both peered around the room at Billie’s collection of records lying all over the floor, socks and clothes, food wrappers and cigarette butts and a mess of notebook pages strewn about.
“Yeah fuckin’ right. And where’d I sleep?”
“Right here with me.” Billie shifted slightly, looking up at Mike. “And we can snuggle,” he teased, his alcohol breath right in Mike’s face. “Like this.”
He nuzzled his face into the reclining boy’s neck. Mike’s arms were loosely holding Billie Joe on top of him, and he made a small sound in his throat at the contact as Billie’s lips brushed over the sensitive skin of his neck.
He stopped talking there, leaving the Reverend rapt with attention, slightly dumbfounded at what he was hearing. Strychnine’s hand had somehow found its way to the front of his robes, adjusting the cloth that fell between his legs, suddenly uncomfortable.
“Keep going, boy.” He breathed heavily. The teenager hesitated, sensing something wrong.
“But-”
“Goddamn, this is your eternal soul we’re talking ‘bout!”
“Y’know, I don’t believe in this shit, I don’t haveta tell you anything!” The teenager sounded pissed, and mumbled, “It’s hard enough saying all this to some freakin’ guy I don’t even know…”
“I’m sorry, so sorry babydoll,” The reverend babbled to keep the young parishioner from leaving. “Please keep talking. I’m a-listenin’, I won’t say nothin’ till you's done.”
“Okay, so I was- we were on the bed…”
“Mmm, Mikey.” Billie practically cooed, the light air from his lips blowing over the other’s neck, giving him goosebumps. “You’re so cozy to curl up with.”
“Billie, just-” Mike’s voice sounded slightly strained, and he twisted his neck away from the boy atop him.
“Hm?” Green eyes looked into blue, a serious look replacing the goofy grin that had been on his lips only moments before.
“I…”
Billie Joe was soft and silent in Mike’s arms, his eyes lowering to look at Mike’s lips. “Yeah?” His voice was barely audible, his gaze flicked back up to Mike’s face.
It only took the lightest upward tilt of Mike’s head to catch Billie’s lips in a kiss that almost surprised both of them with how comfortable, how right it felt. After a moment, their lips parted. They each let out a sound at the contact, tongues brushing, as they pressed tighter together. Mike’s fingertips on Billie’s back dipped beneath the hem of his pants as the smaller boy pulled his lips away from Mike’s and slowly and sweetly kissed him down the neck, gently sucking the heated skin.
“Bill- fuck…” Mike’s head tipped back as he enjoyed the sensation, and he looked up, frowning when it stopped. Billie sat up, and Mike’s hands fell away from his waist once he realized what Billie was doing. Mike was torn between tugging his own shirt off and watching Billie Joe as he removed his. In an instant, their lips were back together again, rougher this time. All tentativeness was lost, and Billie pulled Mike up, small fingers fumbling with the button of his pants.
“Jesus Billie- what’re we-”
“Don’t think, just fuckin’ shut up and kiss me.” He didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to stop and rationalize or talk himself out of doing someone he’d wanted for so long. Mike obeyed, hand gently lifting the shorter boy’s chin to connect their lips again.
On the other side of the screen, the reverend was licking his lips, unconsciously moving closer towards the teenage boy. His hand had crept under his robe, inching towards the throbbing ache between his legs.
“And, I dunno, we got carried away…”
“’N then what, honeydip? Keep talking.” His voice was husky and rough but the boy seemed not to notice.
“I just… we didn’t realize how far we’d gotten until my mom walked in on us and Mike didn’t have his pants on.”
He stopped talking, the enormity of that seeming to hit him.
“Yeah… that was bad.”
The teenager was quiet, and there came a quiet thud as he rested his head against the wood wall. Strychnine’s hand fisted around his erection and he tried not to sigh too loudly in relief at the touch of his own warm, familiar hand. He listened, trying not to focus so much on the words as the sound of the boy’s voice, the slight cracks and emotion in it.
“I’m fucked. She didn’t scream or do anything for a moment, just stood there. Then she asked Mike to leave- he dressed and was outta there- and started crying. She said she had thought she’d been through everything with me but this was something unexpected and she had no idea how to handle it. She told me that I was wrong- that what I’d done was wrong and that it wasn’t fair for me to do that to her- to her, can you fucking believe it?? That she was tired and didn’t need to have me doing this thing, this immoral thing under her roof.”
The boy began crying. There weren’t any loud sobs, just muffled whimpers to be heard from his side of the dark booth. Sobs that could easily be interpreted as noises of desire, by a horny drunken preacher, if that was what he wanted to hear.
“I can’t believe how mad she was, and we weren’t even doing anything bad! Grandma keeps looking at me and shaking her head, now she’s got my mom scared that I’m gonna go to hell but I’ll tell you- I don’t believe a fuckin’ word of any of it! I don’t believe in hell, I don’t think there are sins or virtues- you’re a nice guy, but the rest is all bullshit. Mike’s too good to go to hell, I mean, if you knew him…”
The speed of Strychnine's hand was constant, and his breathing hitched as the tension- the telltale tightening in his throat, the squeezing sensation around his chest, the delicious friction of his fingers around his cock- became nearly unbearable. He hazarded a glance through the screen to see the boy in his darkened cell. The teen’s brow was furrowed, his eyes cast down. Then his eyes rose, huge green orbs gazing through the one-way screen, almost directly at the reverend. The dark confessional, the unknown boy’s voice ringing in his ears, the perversity of the situation- all of it spun away as the reverend bit his lip and came.
He was gasping heavily, slumped against the wall on his side, and the boy’s voice finally came through to him, the words making sense again.
“-the fuck’s going on in there!?”
“Just experiencing a spiritual revelation- an ‘piphany if ya will,” Strychnine panted.
“Are you okay?” He sounded worried. “I told you I didn’t wanna tell and now you’ve had some heart attack or some shit, and I-”
“I ain’t that old, honeydip! Doncha goes insultin’ me, I told ya it was a spiritual revelation.”
“Alright…if you say so.” He sounded doubtful, biting his lips as he squinted through the screen, unable to see the reverend as he recovered from his powerful orgasm. “So…”
“Yeah?” Strychnine was still so gone, and he brought the flask of liquor back to his lips.
“What now?”
“Nothin’, you’re free to go.” Strychnine needed to get out of there and change out of his sticky robes.
“But… no ‘Hail Mary’s or shit? Grandma made me say ten of them last night.”
“Sugar, y’ain’t got nothin’ to repent for. Yous done nothin’ wrong so don’t listen to her. Be polite, mind yous, but don’t take none of what she says to heart. If yous care for that boy, there ain’t no harm in the two of yous bein’ together. Ain’t a sin to fall in love.”
“L-love!?” Sputtered the boy, who looked aghast. “I never said I was in love with him!”
“Ya didn’t have to kid, I understand.” He was amused by the boy’s continued shocked expression. “You’re alright, you’re free to go.”
“What? Oh… alright, thanks.” Strychnine watched with a grin as the bewildered boy staggered out of the confessional. He took a long drink of brandy and wondered if he could ask the next reverend to take over the next shift early. The robes were getting uncomfortable now, and Strychnine was too intoxicated to offer any more spiritual counsel for the day.
pssst.... Mods? Um, first time I ever posted on Coming Clean, I misspelled my own name in the author tag. It's painfully embarrassing, and I feel like a sheepish little fool even mentioning it, but is there any way you can help me fix that?
Pairing: Billie/Mike, one-sided Rev/young!Billie
Notes: Rev’s kind of a pedo!creeper in this one, though he doesn’t outright molest Billie or anything...
Disclaimer: The people own themselves, and the personas are property of those people. But not property of me. This is fiction.
Summary: The Rev is startled by an unusual confession at church from an unlikely confessor.
Rating: R
Also, I'd like to thank spikeswhiterose for being my beta on this piece! <3 :)
Reverend Strychnine sighed as another sorry sinner shuffled out of the confessional. The small booth was cramped and dark, and this was only morning mass. A slouching figure stepped inside next, awkwardly settling in the small space. Strychnine waited as the young Catholic closed the small door, trying to keep his own unholy thoughts from drifting to the well-stocked liquor cabinet he kept at home.
“Hello?” The person on the other side was obviously uncomfortable. “You’re in there, right?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. Okay, then.”
Strychnine had to stifle his urge to laugh at the awkwardness of this young churchgoer. He waited a few moments but the boy wasn’t forthcoming.
“Is there anything you’d like to confess?” He tried helping him along, reaching into his robe at the same time for the small flask he kept tucked on his person at all times.
“Uh…” The kid scratched the back of his neck, looking extremely uncomfortable. Strychnine squinted through the screen at him, wondering if it was just the poor lighting or if this kid’s hair was really blue. “Shit. I mean, sorry, uh, shoot. I just don’t wanna be here, y’know? It’s nothing against- God, or Jesus or you or anything, but I just… don’t like church.”
“Really?” He tried to sound interested, though he could hardly blame the kid for his lack of enthusiasm. Quietly, he unscrewed the lid.
“Yeah. Mom made me come, this whole thing was her stupid idea.”
“Does she come regularly?” He wondered if he’d seen her, though he was pretty new to this parish.
“Nah, but Grandma does. Mom called Grandma after it happened and this was the first thing she could think of.” He stopped talking, the silence abrupt.
“After what happened?”
No response.
“Why’d your mother call your grandmother?”
Still no answer.
“Did something happen to make your mother concerned about you?”
The silence dragged on. After taking a gulp of the burning brandy, the Reverend sighed.
“Son, I’m here for you to speak to. I cannot and will not repeat anything you tell me in here. I can offer you absolution for your sins.”
“But what if I didn’t do anything wrong?”
“What?” He was surprised by the kid’s fierce tone.
“You keep talking about these sins, but I didn’t do anything wrong! ‘Evil’, ‘sinful’, ‘wrong’- that’s what Mom and Grandma keep telling me but they don’t fucking understand-”
Strychnine soothed the boy. “Hush now, you just settle down. I ain’t here to judge you, that’s for our Lord to do, but He’s forgiving and so am I. Talk to me, son, probably ain’t nothin’ I haven’t heard before.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth Strychnine blushed, resolving to make more of an effort to keep the Southern twang from his voice. When the priest had interviewed him for the job he was happy with Strychnine’s easy manner but told him that the people around here would probably be more comfortable with a reverend they felt was native to the area. People are uncomfortable around foreigners, he explained, and Strychnine took the hint and did away with his accent. He could usually keep it under control but it still slipped out from time to time, especially when he was drinking.
Fortunately, the teenager on the other side of the screen didn’t appear to have noticed, presumably too involved with his own internal conflicts.
“So, you can’t tell anyone the things I tell you?”
Strychnine nodded. "Yes, that’s correct," he said out loud.
The young sinner sighed again, long and weary. Too weary for a kid his age to sound. Reverend Strychnine frowned as he wondered what could possibly be upsetting the boy so bad.
“I guess I’ll have to start from the beginning… so I have this friend-”
“Are we going hypothetical? Does your friend have problems?”
“No, I really do have this friend! His name’s Mike and I’ve known him for… Christ, like six years? Anyway, he’s my best friend. My absolute best friend- I can tell him anything and he tells me everything. We’re in a band, he lives with me-”
“Like brothers?”
“Uh… noo. Not really like that.” In the dark the boy was blushing, biting his lip.
“Alright…” The reverend couldn’t figure out where this was going. He took another drink.
“We’ve always been close but things have been weird with us lately.”
“People change, ain’t nothin’ to do with you. Sometimes-”
“Please stop, you really don’t understand.” He sounded annoyed, like he was trying to remain patient but having a hard time.
Strychnine stopped, as requested. He had yet to find that balance between offering advice and being a respectful listener. The boy was still quiet, his head in his hands on the other side and Strychnine humbly encouraged him to keep talking.
“I’m sorry. You can continue.”
“It’s just… you’re a fucking priest for crying out loud, and I don’t know what I’m doing in here in the first place. Can you just… I’m gonna try to get it all out, ‘kay?”
“Sure thing. I’ll listen, all nice'n quiet-like. Ain’t gonna hear a peep from me.”
“So we’re always been close, but lately… I dunno. I just started noticing things about him. Like his blue eyes, and his hair… it’s really soft.” The boy mumbled, head ducked and face heated as he thought of his friend.
Strychnine’s brow was furrowed, still not understanding. He sipped again from the flask, trying to be patient.
“I like him, Rev. I really do. Like, we’ve always been really good friends, but this thing happened and now I can’t stand being around him because I always wanna- and then last week- well, now he’s staying over at a friend’s. I’ve barely even seen him at school.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, babydoll. I think you best tell it right from the start.”
“A-all of it?” His voice was halting, nervous.
“All of it,” repeated Strychnine.
“Ok… well, last Saturday we were really drunk. Stoned, too- is that a sin?”
“Just keep goin’.” He took another drink and listened.
“No one saw you?” asked Billie. Mike shook his head, a smug, self-satisfied grin on his lips.
“No, they left me to close up the place and these customers had just left their drinks. One bottle was completely full, just left on the table.”
“Well fuck man, why don’t I work there?” Giggled Billie Joe, leaning in closer to his friend, who wrapped an easy arm around him. They were lying on Billie’s bed, stoned and more than tipsy off Mike’s stolen beer.
“Dunno man. You don’t haveta pay rent or anything, so why would you?”
“Free booze bitch, that’s why!”
Mike nodded. “Ah,” he said. “Good point.”
“I don’t know why my mom makes you even pay rent,” Billie went on, rambling in his intoxicated state. “‘S fuckin’ stupid, she likes you and I like you so you should just stay here for free.”
“The extra room I guess, I mean she could be renting it out to someone else and have them pay more.”
“Then why fuckin’ doesn’t she? You could stay in my room, I’ll clear all this shit up and make room for you.”
They both peered around the room at Billie’s collection of records lying all over the floor, socks and clothes, food wrappers and cigarette butts and a mess of notebook pages strewn about.
“Yeah fuckin’ right. And where’d I sleep?”
“Right here with me.” Billie shifted slightly, looking up at Mike. “And we can snuggle,” he teased, his alcohol breath right in Mike’s face. “Like this.”
He nuzzled his face into the reclining boy’s neck. Mike’s arms were loosely holding Billie Joe on top of him, and he made a small sound in his throat at the contact as Billie’s lips brushed over the sensitive skin of his neck.
He stopped talking there, leaving the Reverend rapt with attention, slightly dumbfounded at what he was hearing. Strychnine’s hand had somehow found its way to the front of his robes, adjusting the cloth that fell between his legs, suddenly uncomfortable.
“Keep going, boy.” He breathed heavily. The teenager hesitated, sensing something wrong.
“But-”
“Goddamn, this is your eternal soul we’re talking ‘bout!”
“Y’know, I don’t believe in this shit, I don’t haveta tell you anything!” The teenager sounded pissed, and mumbled, “It’s hard enough saying all this to some freakin’ guy I don’t even know…”
“I’m sorry, so sorry babydoll,” The reverend babbled to keep the young parishioner from leaving. “Please keep talking. I’m a-listenin’, I won’t say nothin’ till you's done.”
“Okay, so I was- we were on the bed…”
“Mmm, Mikey.” Billie practically cooed, the light air from his lips blowing over the other’s neck, giving him goosebumps. “You’re so cozy to curl up with.”
“Billie, just-” Mike’s voice sounded slightly strained, and he twisted his neck away from the boy atop him.
“Hm?” Green eyes looked into blue, a serious look replacing the goofy grin that had been on his lips only moments before.
“I…”
Billie Joe was soft and silent in Mike’s arms, his eyes lowering to look at Mike’s lips. “Yeah?” His voice was barely audible, his gaze flicked back up to Mike’s face.
It only took the lightest upward tilt of Mike’s head to catch Billie’s lips in a kiss that almost surprised both of them with how comfortable, how right it felt. After a moment, their lips parted. They each let out a sound at the contact, tongues brushing, as they pressed tighter together. Mike’s fingertips on Billie’s back dipped beneath the hem of his pants as the smaller boy pulled his lips away from Mike’s and slowly and sweetly kissed him down the neck, gently sucking the heated skin.
“Bill- fuck…” Mike’s head tipped back as he enjoyed the sensation, and he looked up, frowning when it stopped. Billie sat up, and Mike’s hands fell away from his waist once he realized what Billie was doing. Mike was torn between tugging his own shirt off and watching Billie Joe as he removed his. In an instant, their lips were back together again, rougher this time. All tentativeness was lost, and Billie pulled Mike up, small fingers fumbling with the button of his pants.
“Jesus Billie- what’re we-”
“Don’t think, just fuckin’ shut up and kiss me.” He didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to stop and rationalize or talk himself out of doing someone he’d wanted for so long. Mike obeyed, hand gently lifting the shorter boy’s chin to connect their lips again.
On the other side of the screen, the reverend was licking his lips, unconsciously moving closer towards the teenage boy. His hand had crept under his robe, inching towards the throbbing ache between his legs.
“And, I dunno, we got carried away…”
“’N then what, honeydip? Keep talking.” His voice was husky and rough but the boy seemed not to notice.
“I just… we didn’t realize how far we’d gotten until my mom walked in on us and Mike didn’t have his pants on.”
He stopped talking, the enormity of that seeming to hit him.
“Yeah… that was bad.”
The teenager was quiet, and there came a quiet thud as he rested his head against the wood wall. Strychnine’s hand fisted around his erection and he tried not to sigh too loudly in relief at the touch of his own warm, familiar hand. He listened, trying not to focus so much on the words as the sound of the boy’s voice, the slight cracks and emotion in it.
“I’m fucked. She didn’t scream or do anything for a moment, just stood there. Then she asked Mike to leave- he dressed and was outta there- and started crying. She said she had thought she’d been through everything with me but this was something unexpected and she had no idea how to handle it. She told me that I was wrong- that what I’d done was wrong and that it wasn’t fair for me to do that to her- to her, can you fucking believe it?? That she was tired and didn’t need to have me doing this thing, this immoral thing under her roof.”
The boy began crying. There weren’t any loud sobs, just muffled whimpers to be heard from his side of the dark booth. Sobs that could easily be interpreted as noises of desire, by a horny drunken preacher, if that was what he wanted to hear.
“I can’t believe how mad she was, and we weren’t even doing anything bad! Grandma keeps looking at me and shaking her head, now she’s got my mom scared that I’m gonna go to hell but I’ll tell you- I don’t believe a fuckin’ word of any of it! I don’t believe in hell, I don’t think there are sins or virtues- you’re a nice guy, but the rest is all bullshit. Mike’s too good to go to hell, I mean, if you knew him…”
The speed of Strychnine's hand was constant, and his breathing hitched as the tension- the telltale tightening in his throat, the squeezing sensation around his chest, the delicious friction of his fingers around his cock- became nearly unbearable. He hazarded a glance through the screen to see the boy in his darkened cell. The teen’s brow was furrowed, his eyes cast down. Then his eyes rose, huge green orbs gazing through the one-way screen, almost directly at the reverend. The dark confessional, the unknown boy’s voice ringing in his ears, the perversity of the situation- all of it spun away as the reverend bit his lip and came.
He was gasping heavily, slumped against the wall on his side, and the boy’s voice finally came through to him, the words making sense again.
“-the fuck’s going on in there!?”
“Just experiencing a spiritual revelation- an ‘piphany if ya will,” Strychnine panted.
“Are you okay?” He sounded worried. “I told you I didn’t wanna tell and now you’ve had some heart attack or some shit, and I-”
“I ain’t that old, honeydip! Doncha goes insultin’ me, I told ya it was a spiritual revelation.”
“Alright…if you say so.” He sounded doubtful, biting his lips as he squinted through the screen, unable to see the reverend as he recovered from his powerful orgasm. “So…”
“Yeah?” Strychnine was still so gone, and he brought the flask of liquor back to his lips.
“What now?”
“Nothin’, you’re free to go.” Strychnine needed to get out of there and change out of his sticky robes.
“But… no ‘Hail Mary’s or shit? Grandma made me say ten of them last night.”
“Sugar, y’ain’t got nothin’ to repent for. Yous done nothin’ wrong so don’t listen to her. Be polite, mind yous, but don’t take none of what she says to heart. If yous care for that boy, there ain’t no harm in the two of yous bein’ together. Ain’t a sin to fall in love.”
“L-love!?” Sputtered the boy, who looked aghast. “I never said I was in love with him!”
“Ya didn’t have to kid, I understand.” He was amused by the boy’s continued shocked expression. “You’re alright, you’re free to go.”
“What? Oh… alright, thanks.” Strychnine watched with a grin as the bewildered boy staggered out of the confessional. He took a long drink of brandy and wondered if he could ask the next reverend to take over the next shift early. The robes were getting uncomfortable now, and Strychnine was too intoxicated to offer any more spiritual counsel for the day.
pssst.... Mods? Um, first time I ever posted on Coming Clean, I misspelled my own name in the author tag. It's painfully embarrassing, and I feel like a sheepish little fool even mentioning it, but is there any way you can help me fix that?