Holy Sins

Beginning Of Obsession

AERIS

I woke up gasping, my thighs slick with arousal, my fingers buried deep inside my own aching cunt. The sheets were tangled around my legs like restraints, and my nightgown was bunched up around my waist. My n*****s were hard, throbbing against the thin fabric, and my c**t pulsed with every desperate circle I rubbed over it.

Father Armand. The dream clung to me like sweat.

In it, he had me bent over the altar, his cassock open, his thick c**k slamming into me from behind. His hands gripped my hips hard enough to bruise, his voice low and filthy as he f****d me in the empty church.

"You came here looking for God, but you found this instead," he growled, driving deeper, stretching me open.

My moans echoed off the stone walls as he used me, pounding into my soaked p***y like he wanted to ruin me for anyone else.

I came in the dream with his name on my lips, my cunt clenching around his c**k as he filled me with hot, thick ropes of c*m.

But it wasn't enough. He flipped me onto my back, spread my legs wide, and buried his face between my thighs, licking and sucking at my dripping slit like he was starving. His tongue f****d into me, lapping up his own c*m as it leaked out, and I screamed when he sucked my c**t between his lips.

Now I was awake, chasing that feeling with my own fingers, three of them pumping in and out of my greedy hole while my thumb worked my swollen c**t.

The wet sounds filled the quiet room,obscene, desperate. My free hand pinched my n****e, twisting it hard, and I bit my lip to keep from moaning too loud.

I imagined him walking in right now, catching me like this.

Would he be shocked? Or would he lock the door, push my hand away, and replace my fingers with his tongue? Would he make me confess every filthy thought while he ate my cunt? The thought made my p***y clench, fresh wetness coating my fingers.

I was close,so f*****g close,when the sharp knock at my door shattered everything.

"Aeris? Sweetheart, are you awake?" My mother's voice, muffled through the wood.

"Breakfast is ready. Don't let it get cold."

My hand froze between my legs. My heart hammered against my ribs. I pulled my fingers out slowly, my cunt fluttering around nothing, the orgasm slipping away like smoke.

I stared at the ceiling, breathing hard, my body still burning with need.

"Coming," I called back, my voice hoarse. I wiped my slick fingers on the sheets and sat up, the dream still burning behind my eyes.

Father Armand. His c**k. His mouth. The way he'd looked at me after Sunday service,like he could see straight through my dress to the wet heat between my legs.

I pressed my thighs together, trying to ignore the ache. But I already knew I'd be thinking about him all day. About his hands. His voice. His c**k stretching me open while I begged for more.

Breakfast was tense.

The air between us felt thick. Like she could tell something was off but didn’t know what. Or maybe she just sensed how distracted I was, picking at my toast while staring into space

She chatted about church stuff,Cordelia’s new gossip target (the organist again), who brought pie to last week's bake sale,and kept glancing at me when I wasn't responding fast enough

"You okay?"

"Yeah," I lied through a half-smile.

She nodded slowly,not buying it but not pushing either,and started clearing plates soon after

The second she left for her morning walk with one of her friends? The house went quiet.

Too quiet.

I dragged myself back upstairs without thinking too hard about why my body was still buzzing from earlier…from him in the dream…

My phone sat on the dresser. Screen lit up with two messages from Elderglen:

- “Hey Anne! How are you holding up? Have you started in the clinic.?”

- “We miss you!!”

Normal nurse s**t.

Boring compared to what had been playing behind my eyelids since sunrise

I stared at the messages for a solid minute before tossing my phone onto the bed.

Nursing. Work. Responsibilities.

Everything I should be thinking about right now,not some filthy priest-fueled fantasy that had woken me up half-crazed and dripping wet

But no matter how hard I tried, my brain kept circling back to him.

Father Ronan.

His hands on my hips in that dream.

The way his voice dropped when he said "You came here looking for God."

Fuck.

I flopped face-first into the pillow with a muffled groan, kicking off my socks.

It was ridiculous how much space one man,one priest was taking up in my head after just one brief encounters

And yet…

Even as stupid as it was…even knowing this could go nowhere…my body still remembered every detail of that dream like it wanted an encore.

Hours passed.

I didn’t leave my room. Not really.

Just sat on the edge of the bed scrolling mindlessly through social media, replying to a few messages,nothing important,but mostly just killing time because honestly? I had nothing better to do

Then evening hit.

And without even realizing it…without planning or consciously deciding…I started getting ready

First, I showered. Hot water pounding over my skin like an attempt to wash away thoughts that wouldn't leave me alone

Then clothes: something simple but not sloppy,a dark skirt and a loose cream-colored blouse with sleeves rolled up slightly at the elbows.

Makeup light,just enough eyeliner and lip gloss so I didn’t look half-dead,but not trying too hard either

Because why was I dressing up for mass?

Evening service wasn't mandatory.

Mom went out of habit; most people did.

But me?

Nope. Never been one for extra church unless forced by guilt or grief,and neither applied right now.

I stepped out of my room just as Mom came down the hall.

And she lit up when she saw me,like I’d hung the damn moon or something

"Oh, Aeris!" Her face softened instantly. "You're coming to the evening mass?"

She sounded surprised,but happy. Like this was some kind of miracle after weeks of me avoiding church unless absolutely necessary

"Yeah," I said, shrugging like it wasn't a big deal even though we both knew it kind of was.

Mom didn’t question it.

Just smiled wider and grabbed her purse off the couch

Five minutes later, we were walking side by side toward Saint Michael's,this time under twilight skies instead of morning sun

The air smelled different at night: cooler; quieter; more intimate somehow

Church lights glowed ahead through stained glass windows

The church was quieter tonight,less crowded. Maybe half the usual Sunday crowd, mostly older people and a few families with small kids who had nothing better to do

We slipped into one of the middle pews and Mom knelt briefly for prayer before sitting down beside me

She reached over and squeezed my hand once.

No words exchanged. Just…I’m glad you’re here.

Then Father Ronan walked in.

And just like last time? My stomach flipped hard

He looked different at night,in soft golden light filtering through stained glass instead of harsh morning sun,but still that same unfairly attractive presence: tall, broad-shouldered, calm as hell even though his mere existence made my pulse spike every damn time

The service started,quieter, more solemn than Sunday mass. Fewer hymns, softer readings.

Father Armand’s voice was different too at night.

Lower. Deeper.

More intimate in the hushed church air like he wasn’t preaching to a crowd but speaking directly into each person’s soul

And f**k me,I couldn't stop staring

He moved differently up there too: slower gestures; longer pauses between words; his hands folded together sometimes like he was deep in thought even while reading scripture

Every time he looked up? My breath caught.

Those gray-blue eyes scanning pews again,and yeah, they found me almost immediately this time because of course they did

This man had some kind of sixth sense for when someone was ogling him from afar

The mass dragged on,longer than it should’ve been, or maybe that’s just how time worked when you were hyper-aware of every single movement a certain priest made

He knelt.

He stood.

Read from the Bible with that same deep voice that did things to my spine

Gave a short sermon about patience and forgiveness

Nothing wild. Nothing scandalous.

But I still hung onto every word like they mattered more than they probably did because…him.

When communion came, people started filing up toward the altar,and Mom nudged me gently.

"Want to go?"

I hesitated.

Did I feel holy enough right now? Not even close. All I could think about was last night's dream and how badly I wished it wasn't just fantasy

I stood up slowly,feeling weirdly exposed as I walked toward the altar with everyone else

No one looked at me.

Nobody cared if some random woman took communion or not.

But still…being here like this, walking down that aisle while he stood right there waiting? It felt surreal

Father Ronan was passing out wafers, his hands steady and calm. He didn’t smile,just kept a neutral expression like he did this every day without emotion (which…he probably did)

When it was my turn?

He held out the plate silently.

Our fingers almost brushed when I took one.

The wafer tasted like nothing,just paper-thin and dry, but I still held it in my palm like it meant something holy

Then came the wine.

He lifted the cup,the silver chalice,and offered me a sip

Our eyes met again. Just for half a second. But damn if that didn’t send heat straight through my chest

I took the cup carefully, lips brushing metal rim as I drank.

Small sip.

No more than necessary.

When I handed it back.

His fingers curled around mine briefly,not on purpose probably,but still…contact

A jolt shot up my arm

I stepped back into line, heart pounding way too hard for something as simple as taking communion

Mom gave me a small smile when I returned to the pew,like she was proud or relieved I’d gone through with it

But my focus wasn’t on her.

Wasn’t on God.

Or forgiveness.

Nope. Still locked onto him,watching how he moved from person to person like this ritual meant everything and nothing at once

Then mass ended.

People started getting up slowly, stretching, chatting quietly in hushed tones before heading out

Father Ronan stayed where he was,standing near the altar now,while parishioners filtered past him toward exits

Mom stood first, smoothing her dress and grabbing her purse.

"Let's go," she said softly,already used to me following without protest after church

But I didn’t move right away.

My eyes stayed on him.

And then,s**t,he looked up again.

Right at me.

Not scanning the room this time.

Not glancing around casually.

No. His gaze locked directly onto mine like he knew I’d been staring since the second he walked in.

My breath hitched

For a heartbeat, neither of us looked away.

He started walking toward the exit.

Straight through the thinning crowd.

Not rushing. Just…heading my way

Mom turned to me then, seeing him approach,and immediately her expression shifted into that polite church-lady mode she always used around priests

"Father," she said warmly as he got closer.

His eyes flicked to her first,polite nod,and then back to me

And suddenly? We were face-to-face again.

Father Ronan smiled.

"Good evening," he said,voice even deeper than I remembered from mass

Mom beamed at him like this was the best thing ever. "You had such a lovely sermon tonight."

"Thank you," he replied gently.

Then silence for half a second,just long enough to feel awkward if it weren’t for Mom smoothly stepping in.

"This is my daughter, Aeris Anne."

She said my full name,the baptismal name she only used when being formal or respectful around clergy.

Father Armand’s eyes flicked to me again,Anne,like he was testing the name in his head

Then, without missing a beat, he said:

"Anne."

Just my name.

No title.

And hearing it from him, spoken like that? It did something stupid to my stomach

Mom smiled wider.

He didn’t reach out to shake hands or anything formal either. Just stood there calm as ever.

Father Ronan spoke again,this time directly to me.

"How have you been settling back in Larkhaven?"

Simple question.

A normal priest thing to ask someone new or returning.

But the way he said it? Not robotic. Not like he was just checking boxes on some spiritual wellness list.

Nope. He actually sounded…curious?

Mom looked at me expectantly,waiting for my answer

And suddenly I had no idea how to respond without sounding either too boring or weirdly intense.

I swallowed.

"Uh…good," I said,lame as hell. The most generic answer possible.

Mom’s smile twitched slightly,oh come on, Aeris,but she didn’t correct me

Father Ronan just nodded slowly like he accepted that for now.

Then added.

"If you ever need anything…spiritually or otherwise…you’re welcome to come find me."

Mom lit up again "That's so kind of you, Father!"

He gave her another polite nod before glancing back at me,those damn eyes again,and then stepped past us smoothly toward the next group of people leaving