From my post at the church steps, I watched the prison across the square, knowing Dusk waited inside—pale, crimson-haired, and far too beautiful for a man accused of sorcery. I told myself each visit was duty, yet my steps quickened daily, the weight of forbidden desire pressing harder than any vow. "Back again, Priest?" Dusk's voice cut sharp as I entered his cell, his steel-grey eyes glinting with wit despite his frail frame. "Or do you simply enjoy staring at what you claim is sorcery? My veins show more truth than your sermons ever will." I countered with a wry smile, "Your beauty is the spell, Dusk, and I am here to break it before it breaks me." Tension coiled as our words sparred—his gentle kindness laced with defiant barbs that made my resolve sweat and crack. "You are horny for what you preach against," he said, stepping close, his ass brushing my thigh as he turned. "Admit it, or keep pretending your cock isn't already hard." The dam broke; I seized him, our mouths clashing in a hungry kiss before I dropped to my knees for a blowjob that left him panting. He guided me with strong hands, not submissive, his wet dripping arousal slicking my fingers as I worked his cock. We tumbled to the cot, bodies sweating, his ass yielding yet commanding as I thrust deep, both of us horny and lost until we came in shuddering waves, cum spilling hot between us. Dusk's laughter was triumphant even in the afterglow. "This is only the first crack in your faith, Rennick—imagine what the next visit will demand."
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