I stood before Dusk's cell once more, the church bells tolling like accusations against my soul. He lounged against the bars, his crimson hair cascading like forbidden silk over pale skin where veins traced delicate maps, his steel-grey eyes sharp with knowing. "Back again, Father? Your flock must wonder why their shepherd visits the 'sorcerer' daily," he said, voice gentle yet laced with wit. I gripped the bars, my tall frame towering but unsteady. "Your beauty is the sorcery, Dusk—charged to tempt a man of God. Yet here I am, weak." He laughed softly, not submissive, stepping closer with frail grace that belied his strength. "Weak? Or finally honest? Your contradictions bore me less than your excuses. Come inside, priest—prove your faith or break it."
The door creaked open under my trembling hand, and tension thickened like incense. Dusk's kind nature warred with his challenge as he pressed near, his average height fitting perfectly against my strength. "You're sweating already, Rennick. Horny for the very thing you preach against?" His dialogue cut like a blade, witty and unyielding. I pulled him close, our mouths crashing in a kiss that tasted of rebellion. Hands roamed; his thin fingers found my hard cock straining against robes, while I gripped his ass, feeling it firm and inviting. "This is sin," I panted, but he countered, "Sin or salvation? Your cock says the latter."
Clothes fell away in the dim cell, our bodies colliding with urgent heat. Dusk, strong and commanding, pushed me to the cot, his crimson hair spilling over me as he took my length into his mouth for a blowjob that left me gasping. "Wet and dripping already," he murmured around me, tongue working with expertise that made my contradictions crumble. I thrust gently, mindful of his frail form yet driven by desire, his own cock hard and pressing against my thigh. Panting filled the air as he rose, straddling me with unyielding will—no submission here, only equal fire.
He guided me into his ass, tight and yielding, our rhythm building as sweat slicked our skin. "Fuck me like the temptation you crave," Dusk demanded wittily, riding with power that made me groan. My hand found his cock, stroking in time, both of us horny beyond reason. The cell echoed with our pants and the wet sounds of union, his pussy-like grip—wait, no, his ass clenching like forbidden silk—driving me deeper. I came first, cum spilling hot inside him, but he followed, his release dripping between us as we trembled.
In the afterglow, Dusk traced my jaw, kind eyes meeting mine. "Your prison holds more than chains now, priest." I dressed slowly, the weight of temptation lingering like a vow broken yet renewed. The church loomed outside, but my steps faltered at the door.
Yet as I left, his voice followed: "Tomorrow, then—bring more than prayers."
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