Beneath the sanctuary

The silence after sin was always the loudest. The sanctuary, once a place of refuge, now felt like a co-conspirator to their fall. Candlelight flickered in the distance, casting halos of soft gold on cracked marble and stained glass, bathing the confessional booth—and them—in sacred light that mocked what they'd just done.

Arthur lay beside her on the narrow wooden floor, still half-dressed, a crucifix swinging lightly above them from the booth’s ceiling. His fingers ghosted over Isabella’s bare arm. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t retreat. She only leaned into him with that same fire burning behind her eyes. No shame. No regret. Only hunger.

"I can hear your heart," she murmured, her voice husky. "It’s racing."

He laughed bitterly. "It's the sound of a man unraveling." She rolled onto him, her bare thighs straddling his hips as her hands slid beneath his robe again, seeking the warmth she’d tasted too briefly. "Then let it unravel. All of it. I'm not finished with you, Father."

He grunted, gripping her waist. The title sent a pulse of shame and desire down his spine. She kissed him, slow and deep this time, like she wasn’t just devouring his body but peeling back the layers of his soul. Her hips rolled over him in slow circles, teasing, torturing."You’ll destroy me," he whispered into her mouth."Then let me burn with you."

He sat up, pushing her back just enough to lift her dress fully over her head. The sight of her nude in the half darkness, glowing with sweat and lust—made his throat tighten. She reached behind his neck and tugged his collar loose, pulling his cassock down until his chest was exposed. Her fingers traced the contours of him like she was memorizing forbidden scripture.

Outside, thunder rumbled. A storm brewed while they created one of their own.

Arthur gripped the small of her back and pulled her down onto him, burying himself inside her with one desperate thrust. Isabella gasped—a sound of pleasure so raw it echoed through the empty church.They moved together like a secret hymn, rising in rhythm, voices in perfect harmony. She clutched his shoulders as he thrust deeper, harder. Sweat mixed with whispers. Sins danced between their breaths. The thrust grew wilder and faster, she moaned louder and louder and that turned him on the more, He couldn't stop, he was lost in her lustful gaze. He continued till he came and she jerked.

When their bodies stilled, they didn’t move apart. They lay in silence, his hand brushing lazy circles over her back."Tell me something true," she said, voice low.

He looked at the cracked wood above them. "I’ve never touched anyone like that before." She smiled and kissed the hollow of his throat. "And I’ll ruin every woman after me." He chuckled. "You already have."

-----

Later, they dressed in silence, though desire still lingered between every stolen glance.

"We can't keep doing this," he said, not meeting her eyes.

She stepped in front of him, slowly buttoning the front of his cassock. "Then stop me."

He couldn’t. Again.The church door creaked open. Arthur went rigid. Footsteps echoed.

"Someone's here," he whispered. Isabella smirked. "Let them find us. Maybe they need saving too." He grabbed her arm and pulled her through a side door, leading her down a narrow corridor behind the sanctuary. The candlelight flickered over the brick walls as he opened a hidden wooden door that led down to the old sanctuary cellar.

"Where are we?" she asked as they descended.

"A place no one visits anymore," he said. "Not even God."

The cellar smelled of incense and dust, filled with abandoned relics, old pews, and tarnished icons. There was a cot in the corner, and he pulled her to it.

She bit her lip. "We shouldn’t.""Then stop me," he echoed.

She didn’t.They crashed into each other again with the same desperation as before. This time it was different—slower, deeper, and somehow even more dangerous. Arthur explored every inch of her, tasting, biting, claiming. She surrendered completely, her cries muffled against his chest.She begged for more. And he gave it.

Hours passed in waves of pleasure, confessions of lust, and tangled limbs. No rules. No reservations.Only fire.When they finally lay side by side in the musty darkness, both exhausted, Arthur turned to her."Why me?" he asked. "Why come to me?"

She ran a finger along his jaw. "Because you're the one person I shouldn't want."

He looked at her then, really looked."And you? Why did you come here?" she asked.

He hesitated. "Because I’m hiding." A beat of silence.

Then she said, "Good. Let’s hide together." He closed his eyes.

But something inside him whispered: This is only the beginning.

The musty air clung to their skin, but neither of them seemed to care. The moment had passed, yet the aftershocks lingered like a phantom touch neither of them could shake. Isabella sat on the edge of the cot, wrapping the faded blanket around her bare shoulders. Arthur watched her in silence, memorizing the slope of her back, the way the candlelight turned her skin into something divine.

"This place has secrets," she said softly, as if afraid to disturb the ghosts that might be listening.

Arthur leaned back against the cold stone wall. "The whole church does. People come here to pretend they’re pure, but even saints have skeletons."

She turned to him, tilting her head. "And what’s yours?"

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he rose, stepped toward her, and knelt.

"I used to believe I could save people. That if I gave my life to the cloth, I could fix what was broken." "And now?"

He looked up at her, his hands gripping her thighs gently. "Now I see... the ones who claim to save are often the most lost."

Isabella leaned forward, cradling his face. "You’re not lost. You’re just... human."

His lips brushed her collarbone, trailing heat where his hands followed. The blanket slipped from her shoulders. She let it.

Another hour passed in silence, punctuated only by breath, by soft moans and whispered names. It wasn’t just sex anymore. It was something else. Something messier, Deeper. More dangerous.

They dressed slowly, this time with the weight of reality pressing in. Isabella lingered near a worn statue of the Virgin Mary. Her fingers trailed over its face.

"I used to pray to her when I was little," she said. "I’d ask her to make me good. To make me... holy."

Arthur joined her, his voice low. "And now?"

She turned to him. "Now I don’t want to be saved. I want to feel. To live. Even if it damns me." He stepped closer, their bodies nearly touching. "Then we burn together."

Before they left the cellar, Arthur pressed a kiss to her temple.

And just as they reached the stairs, her phone buzzed in her bag. A name flashed on the screen. Victor.

Arthur saw it before she could tuck it away. "Who’s that?" he asked.

Isabella hesitated. "A mistake. One I haven’t fully erased."

His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.Jealousy was a sin. But so was she.