04: The Devil In My Church.

"In the shadow of the altar, sin looked a lot like salvation.”

Baron’s Pov

“Baron.” His voice cut through the silence, my name had never sounded so dangerous, so alive with threat.

I swallowed, trying to pray, trying to recite anything that might ground me, but my mind betrayed me.

I could still see him, the boy in the fields, trembling in my embrace, innocent lips pressed against mine beneath the moonlight.

That Ezreal was gone.

This Ezreal… this man, this predator, was something else entirely.

“Look at me.” His hand shot out, gripping my chin and forcing my eyes to meet his. His green gaze was cold, feral, hungry, and I couldn’t look away.

I shivered. He smiled.

“You remember the last time, don’t you?” he whispered, leaning close enough that I felt the heat of his breath on my ear.

I moaned, caught in memory, caught in him, trapped in the coil of shame and desire. My body betrayed me even as my mind screamed for salvation.

He pushed me back lightly, but it was enough to make me stumble, my palms scraping the marble. His hands were everywhere at once, gripping my shoulders, tilting my chin, tugging me closer to him.

“You can resist, if you want,” he hissed, voice low and rough. “But the more you fight… the more fun it becomes for me.”

I wanted to fight. I wanted to beg him to stop. I wanted to scream, to flee, to kneel and pray and never look at him again.

But when he pressed himself against me, close enough that I could feel the hard line of him through the fabric of his trousers, my control shattered.

I gasped, choking back a whimper as he forced me to kneel properly before him, my hands fumbling over him against my will. Every nerve in my body screamed both shame and desire.

The line between punishment and pleasure blurred, and I hated myself for every fleeting second that felt good.

Ezreal’s lips brushed against my temple, his teeth grazing my ear. “Don’t make me ask this again, Father… how many Hail Marys will it take to wash away the taste of me?”

I trembled, gasping, pushing back, trying to hold my dignity, but my cock betrayed me, straining, wet, desperate. All for him.

I could feel my restraint cracking like thin glass under his hands.

I knelt on the cold marble, every muscle in my body trembling fear, shame, and desire all tangled into one knot. Ezreal’s presence behind me was suffocating, his body so close I could feel the heat radiating from him, pressing against my back.

He grabbed my chin, forcing my gaze upward.

“You can fight, or you can submit. Either way... I'll get what I want,” he whispered, his voice low and rough, full of threat and temptation.

I trembled, trying to resist.

I tried to pray.

I tried to summon every ounce of faith, every shred of control.

But the second his hand slid down the side of my face to my neck, brushing over my collar, my resolve splintered.

My heart leapt and sank all at once. I had prayed that day at the riverbank that I’d never feel this way again… but here I was, hard, desperate, and trembling on my knees before him.

He pressed himself against me, letting me feel the heat of his cock straining through his trousers. My hands flinched, unsure whether to touch him or flee. But before I could decide, he gripped my hair and tilted my head back, positioning me exactly where he wanted.

“You’re going to taste me, Baron,” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. “And you’re going to like it, even if you hate yourself for it.”

I gasped, my throat dry, my body betraying me. I wanted to resist, to push him away, to hide behind the safety of the altar, but my hands moved of their own accord. My trembling fingers reached for him, sliding under the waistband, brushing against the hardness I had only dreamed about for years.

He groaned, his hands gripping my shoulders, holding me still. “Good. That’s it. Show me how obedient you can be. Show me how much you've missed this. How much you've wanted me. Come on Baron."

I opened my mouth, hesitating only for a heartbeat before taking him in. The first taste of him made my stomach twist. I gagged slightly, but he didn’t let me pull back. His hand gripped my hair tighter, guiding me, controlling me, making me feel the full weight of my submission.

“Don’t stop, Father,” he hissed. “You’re mine tonight. You... You’ll learn what it means to kneel, to beg, and to serve at my feet.”

I obeyed, my lips moving against him, my throat straining, my hands clutching at his hips, trying to stabilize myself. Every stroke, every subtle movement of my tongue, sent a shiver down my spine, a combination of fear and arousal that left me dizzy.

He pressed closer, and I could feel the hardness of him against my tongue, the heat of his body surrounding me. His other hand trailed down my back, teasing, pinching, holding me captive.

“Such a pretty mess for me,” he growled, voice dark, rough with lust and cruelty. “Look at you… shaking, wet, desperate for my cock… and I haven’t even done anything yet.”

I whimpered, choking, trembling, and my hands moved to hold him tighter, desperate for release… for permission… for some kind of acknowledgment.

But he pulled away.

“Not yet,” he whispered, smirking down at me, leaving me high and needy.

"This is just the beginning, Baron. And you’ll learn… that patience... this anticipation is part of your punishment.”

With that, he left. Just walked away.

I collapsed onto the cold marble, my chest heaving, mouth still tingling with the memory of his hard and aching cock, of how I was humiliated and yet craving more.

I wanted him.

I hated him.

I needed him.

I cursed myself for every fleeting moan, every pulse of desire that betrayed my faith and my morals.

On the floor I sat, I prayed in my head for forgiveness while my body cried out for sin. Alone, abandoned to my own desire, I could do nothing but whisper curses under my breath.

When I finally gathered the strength to leave the church, I stumbled through the halls, every echo of my footsteps a reminder of the control he’d taken.

My office door never looked so inviting and never had I been so thankful for the privacy. I shut it behind me, leaning heavily against the wood, my breath ragged, pulse hammering like a drum in my skull.

The second the door closed, all the self-restraint I'd clung to evaporated. Hands trembled as they moved to the front of my robes, underneath… to my pant, fumbling, desperate. I could taste him still on my lips, his scent filled my skin and senses, in my mind, in every nerve ending, and I hated it.

I hated him.

I hated myself.

But I needed him.

I needed the release.

I craved it.

My fingers moved on their own, sliding over my aching length. My thighs tensed, and my hips buckled involuntarily as I chased the edge he had denied me. I whispered curses between ragged breaths, dark, hot words that mingled fury and want.

‘Ezreal… you bastard… you monster…’

And still, it wasn’t enough.

It wasn't the way he could have done it. My brain filtered back to the riverbank, to the way he had grabbed onto my cock, strong hand wrapped tightly around my length, squeezing, owning, demanding…and my body had betrayed me even then, a clear declaration of his ownership of my entire being, my soul, even after all these years.

I squeezed the base of my cock, denying myself the release I sought. My hands moved faster over my cock.

I groaned, biting my lip, hating the craving I couldn’t suppress, loving it, hating myself for it.

It didn't take long and soon I was spilling my cum into my hands, with a tortured cry, his name the only thing on my mind.

My body still ached with want. The release I just got was insufficient. I buried my face in my hands, cursing him again, silently, violently.

‘Ezreal… You’ve ruined me. And yet… I’ll want you again. I already do.’

The guilt was immediate, a crushing weight pressing on my chest, mingling with the remnants of desire that refused to fade.

I berated myself. I swore I would resist, that I would pray harder, that I would bury these feelings. And yet… even as my hands stilled, even as my pulse began to slow, I knew the truth: I wanted him again.

Already.

The candles flickered, shadows dancing across the stone floors, mocking me. And I knew, deep down, that tonight was only the beginning. He hadn’t finished with me. He would come back. And I… I would still be waiting.