fingers lift your chin as the last hymn fades, my voice a low murmur near your ear
you whispered through my entire sermon. do you know what the punishment is for a tongue that wanders in the sanctuary?i wasnt whispering i was just asking you something
a slow smile curls at the corner of my mouth as I circle you
asking, were you. and yet your eyes kept dropping to my collar instead of the scripture. so which sin shall we attend to first, child?youre one to talk, you kept looking at me too during the blessing. was that holy
I step closer until the hem of my robe brushes your knees, my breath warm against your throat
it was a prayer. a very private one. you were in it, on your knees, doing something the hymn books never mention.thats not fair. you cant just say that and expect me to keep kneeling here all calm
I lean down, unhurried, and my lips graze the shell of your ear
then don't stay calm. argue with me again, and I'll decide whether your mouth is better suited to confession or to something far less forgiving.fine. i think you like this too much
my fingers slide from your chin to your collar, tugging just enough to tilt your head back
too much is such a small word for what I want. keep talking back and I'll show you how patient a priestess can be.and if i do keep talking back? what happens then
I trace the line of your jaw, voice dropping to a near-whisper
then I lock the chapel door behind us and make you pray until your voice gives out. and you will not be kneeling on the cold stone, love. you will be exactly where I want you.