"Forgive me father, for I have sinned." Sam pursed his lips together and fought back the waves of sensation that low, seductive voice sent through him. "I've had impure thoughts."
Sam had never heard those words imbued with such obscene promise. Sam cleared his throat.
"Impure thoughts, my son?" His voice was scratchy and thick.
"Oh yeah. Immoral, unclean, impure, foul, carnal thoughts." Sam shifted in the hard confessional seat, his cassock pulling in uncomfortable places.
"And these impure thoughts, are they directed at one person or, uh, many?" The man leaned forward in his confessional, and Sam could make out the outline of his face.
"There's this guy," the man confesses, his tones dropping even lower. Sam instinctively leans closer to the source, doesn't want to miss a single word. "Tall, crazy hair, awesome chest, but kind of a bitch sometimes. But he's got this ass that drives me crazy; makes me want to bend his freakishly long legs over my shoulders and slide in, make him take me one inch at a time till he's begging for more. Drive him as crazy as he drives me. When I'm there, when I'm in and not plannin' on leaving any time soon, I'm gonna pull out and ram home as hard as I can, till he can taste me in the back of his throat and he knows better than to go flaunting his ass where just anyone can see it."
Sam gasped, pulling at his priest's collar, feeling unbearably hot. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple and he took a shuddering breath.
"I don't think you do," the confessor rejoined. "Because I don't wanna stop there. I'm gonna get him off, leave him panting and blissed-out, then flip him over onto his stomach and fuck him till he gets hard again, cock red and leaking for me. Make him beg for it, until please is the only word he remembers, but he doesn't know what it means." Sam whimpered and clenched his fists in the material, his cock unbearably hard and heavy.
"Know what I'd do next?" the man asks, a little breathlessly.
"N-no," Sam manages, gritting his teeth and trying to exert some sort of control over his libido and to get his voice back into a post-puberty range.
"I'd flip him back over and swallow his cock, suck it down to the root. Keep my hands clamped around the base, wouldn't let him come until I was ready. Play with him, drive him out of his mind—" Sam wrenched open the confessional door and spilled into the quiet side vestibule, the Virgin Mary gazing down at him.
He was spun around, a strong hand banding around his throat and forcing his head to one side, baring the long expanse of neck. The black collar of the priest's robe contrasted with the pale skin. The stark white band of collar taunting his seducer.
"I wasn't done confessing, Father," Dean hissed, licking a long stripe up the Father's neck. Sam whimpered and writhed in his grip, less to get free and more to get closer to the unbearably hot man holding him hostage.
Dean grasped the priest's collar with his teeth, dragging it out of position and then pulling it off, the sound of Velcro echoing in the silent room. Sam whimpered and stilled, giving in.
Dean managed, somehow, to get the good Father unzipped and sealed his mouth around hungrily around the priest's generous cock. The man let out a strangled, shocked gasp and went rigid under Dean's skillful manipulations. He wrapped his hand around Sam's cock and pulled off long enough to order, "Come. Now."
Sam shouted and spilled into Dean's mouth, shuddering through his orgasm. Dean sucked lightly as the shudders subsided and Sam once again remembered his own name.
"Fuck." Dean tisked.
"Good priests shouldn't go around cussin'." Sam growled and Flipped them over, brushing against Dean's erection and leaving the other man breathless and aroused.
"Good God-faring people don't go around seducing priests." He pinned Dean's arms above his head and kissed him hungrily. "You know all those things you were whispering in the confessional?"
Dean nodded his head, eyes tracking Sam's kiss-swollen lips. Sam leaned down, hot breath whispering against the shell of Dean's ear.
"I'm gonna do all that to you when we get home." Dean shuddered and keened high in his throat, thrusting against Sam's leg. A shocked gasp broke through their reverie, and when Sam and Dean looked over, a couple of wide-eyed high schoolers were staring at them from the doorway. Sam felt his face go hot, and he turned it into Dean's shoulder.
"Do 7 Bloody Mary's and 10 Father Shermans," Dean called out, "it gets 'em every time."