Page 16 of Meant to Burn

Meet me in the confessional booth at eleven-thirty tonight.

— A

A flutter runs through me and lands in my stomach, making me feel queasy.

The smile that takes over my face can only be described as radiant, and it’s so wide it hurts my cheeks.

I’m honestly grateful he can’t see me making a fool of myself right now.

I can’t help it though. There’s something about him that has done me in.

I’ve fallen badly, and I know there’s no possible way to hide it anymore.

I spend the next few hours writing in my journal and rereading it, trying but failing to make the time go by faster.

It’s an endless loop of looking at the watch on my wrist and tapping my pen against the wooden surface of the desk, and I’m starting to shake with desperation.

I need to see him, and I need to do it now.

At long last, it’s eleven-thirty, and I change into sweatpants and a soft t-shirt.

Something easily accessible. I need him inside me.

I need it like I need air in order to stay alive, and lately, I’ve been no stranger to feeling as if I’m suffocating.

At least that’s the way I’ve felt every time he leaves me in the night, going back to wherever it is he goes when he’s not with me.

I ache for him to be by my side at all times, even though I know it’s not smart or possible as long as I stay in this seminary.

Opening my door quietly, I peek my head out and look around.

It’s dark, save for the light above the stove, and I step out of my room and shut the door so softly it makes no sound.

I exhale roughly, my hands shaking as I roam the seminary with hushed steps until I finally make it to the chapel.

It’s cold and empty, and everything is still.

I can hear my ragged breathing as I walk toward the booth, and it’s so loud I sound like I’m panting.

And maybe I am. It always makes me nervous to sneak around at night to meet up with Azriel.

At the same time, I can’t not do it. I’d risk it all for him, and I think he knows it at this point.

The door to the confessional booth is open, and I walk closer to it until I see him.

Azriel is sitting on the bench, legs spread, and I trail my eyes up the strong muscles of his legs.

Up, up, up. Until I focus on the hairless smooth skin of his inner thighs and lose my breath.

Then, because I can’t help myself, my eyes shift to his balls and cock.

I gasp at the sight before me, feeling like this is all a dream. Like I’ll wake up and lose it all—him, my new hopes and dreams. I can’t even bear to think about it, and I dig my fingernails into the palms of my hands as I try to ground myself once more and not think of anything but him.

“Come, Elijah,” Azriel says softly, one side of his lips tilting up in a soft smirk. “Take your clothes off and get on my lap.”

My breathing changes, shallowing once more at his words, and it feels like I’m on the verge of a panic attack.

I also feel the calmest I’ve ever been. Sure of myself for the first time in my life.

Sure of what I want. There’s no doubt in my mind that it’s him.

So I take off my sweatpants and shirt, letting them pool at my feet, and step into the booth with him.

I climb onto his lap just as he said, kneeling on the bench and shifting my weight so I’m as close to him as possible.

“No underwear then?” Azriel asks with a grin, running his hands up the back of my legs until they rest on my hips. Then, without hesitation, he grabs onto my cheeks and spreads them. I gasp. “Is your hole ready for me?”

I shake my head. “N-no.” His finger dips and rubs over my rim, and all my muscles tighten in anticipation. “I wanted your fingers to open me up.”

“Mmmm,” Azriel moans, and the cap of the lube bottle opening sounds like a gunshot. “Are you going to be a good boy for me and ride my cock?”

Azriel’s wet fingers trace over my hole, then dip inside, one after the other, until there are three impaling me. He pushes them inside slowly. In and out. In and out. Until my eyes cross and it feels as if I’m going crazy.

I groan, “Is that what you want, Az?” My voice is low and breathy, and I don’t even sound like me right now. I sound like a very aroused version of myself. Sensual, bold, wanton. “You want me to get on your cock and impale myself on it?”

“Your mouth is filthy, Little Lamb.” Azriel chuckles, fingers slipping from inside of me. He directs his cock to my entrance and then presses into my hole. “Who knew you had it in you?”

“I have a lot in me.” I moan when he grabs my hips and pushes into me in one thrust, impaling me on his length the exact way I just told him to. “Your c-cock feels so big inside of me.”

My toes curl as he lets me adjust to his girth, and he leans his head back against the wall of the booth and stares up into my eyes. Golden orbs that have green in them swirl with desire, and I realize I’ve never noticed the green before. How have I not noticed?

“If you think it feels big now, just wait until you’re bouncing on it,” he whispers, smirking. “You’ll feel as if I’m splitting you in half.”

“Do it,” I tell him, grabbing his shoulders and lifting myself up onto my knees, then lowering myself slowly. It feels like I’ve taken a shot of adrenaline as his cock pushes against my prostate, and I gasp as I lift myself back up. “Oh f-fuck, Azriel. Fuck.”

“I love it when you curse for me,” he says through gritted teeth, grabbing my hips tightly and thrusting inside of me just as I begin to lower myself again.

I throw my head back in pleasure, eyes squeezed shut as I lose myself to it.

“My little saint, not so holy anymore, are you? No. I think I’ve thoroughly defiled you, haven’t I? ”

“Y-yes,” I moan, riding him faster, bouncing harder as I chase my release. My cock bobs up and down as I do, and it feels heavy, ignored.

“I’ve stained your soul black, and you’ve loved every single second, haven’t you?”

“ Azriel .”

“Tell me how much you’ve loved it,” he demands. “I want to hear how you’d give yourself over to me—give everything up for me.”

“I would,” I cry out, feeling myself creeping closer to the edge of the cliff, yet I’m unable to plummet without a hand on my cock. “I’d do whatever you wanted.”

“That’s right, Little Lamb,” he whispers, threading his fingers through my hair and exposing my throat. He nips at my neck, at my Adam’s apple, then licks my skin in one long wet stripe. “I want you to give it all up. Come with me. Leave this all behind.”

“Do you mean it?” I whimper, my fingers digging into his shoulders as he bites me hard on the side of my neck.

“I mean everything I say.”

“Oh, God. Azriel, please.”

“What do you need?” he asks, hands now spreading my cheeks as I fuck myself on his cock.

“Touch my cock please,” I beg him. “Make me come.”

“Not yet.” He grins. “I’m quite enjoying this.”

“ Please ,” I beg. “Please, I can’t take it anymore. I need—” I gasp when he begins to top from the bottom, hitting my prostate over and over like an arrow. “I n-need to?—”

“You’ll come when I say you can,” Azriel growls, fucking me harder. He thrusts two fingers into my mouth and to the back of my throat, and I suck hard. He moans, “There, Beloved. Suck on those for now.”

I groan in pleasure as he hits my prostate, and he slides his fingers from between my lips down my chest so slowly I’m shaking in anticipation. And when he finally, finally wraps his hand around my cock and grips it tightly, I sob with relief.

“Y-yes, Azriel. Fuck me. Claim me,” I say frantically, thrusting my hips into his fist and slamming my ass back down onto his cock. “Make me your altar.”

“Mine,” Azriel whispers against my throat, his hand frantic now. My balls tighten and my cock jerks, and intense pleasure floods my body as I come and come and come. “Only mine. Only ever mine.”

“Azriel,” I moan as the last dribble of cum spurts out of me, and I feel him throb inside of me, coating my insides with the evidence of his pleasure. He cries out as he fills me, and the church bells toll, drowning out the sounds I love so much.

“ Elijah ,” he groans, stopping all movements, letting go of my now soft cock. “You were made for me, weren’t you?”

“Was I?” I whisper, suddenly feeling shy.

“Yes, Beloved.” He nods frantically, searching my eyes. “God made you in my image—not his. He made you just for me.”

I somehow believe that. I know it’s absolutely insane, but maybe it doesn’t need to make sense. I can feel it. I know there’s truth to his words.

“I lo—” I begin but am cut off suddenly.

“How sweet,” Micah snarls from the open doorway. I hadn’t even noticed that I hadn’t closed it. Oh, God. “I thought you were better than this, Elijah.”

His eyes are focused on where Azriel is still inside of me, and his cheeks heat. But I don’t think it’s from embarrassment. No, I think it’s from rage. From the fact that I’ve rejected him to be with another man.

“Look away from what’s mine, Micah,” Azriel growls. “Or I’ll gouge your fucking eyes from your skull.”

I flinch, but surprisingly, Micah doesn’t react at all.

I whimper as I kneel, and Azriel slips out of me, cum trickling out of my hole and down my thighs. I look up to make eye contact with Micah, but he just shakes his head and retreats, a look of pain on his face.

I’m gasping for air, scrambling off Azriel’s lap and putting my clothes on in a rush. Azriel calls for me, but I ignore him. I have to stop Micah. He’s spiteful—he will talk. I know it. He will tell Father Jacob what he saw, and then I’ll be cast out.

Would that really be so bad?

I shake as I run after him, but he’s fast. Micah is in the living room by the time I catch up to him, walking quickly towards his room.

I grab him by his right arm and yank him back until he’s turned around to face me.

There are tears streaming down his face, and he sniffles, using his free hand to wipe at his cheeks aggressively.

My hand is still wrapped around his bicep, fingers digging in, and he shakes me off.

Taking a step back, I put a few feet of space between us. Micah’s green eyes search mine, and my mouth goes dry.

“Micah, I’m s-s-so sorry.” I stammer, unsure of how to act or what to say to make this better. “I didn’t mean for you to see that. I didn’t want to?—”

“To what?” he spits. “Reject me? Break my heart? Too fucking late.”

“I’ve never?—”

“Leave him,” Micah growls, getting closer to me and wrapping a hand around my neck. “I won’t say anything if you leave him and choose me instead.”

“I—” I shake my head furiously, tears stinging the back of my eyes. “I can’t do that. I won’t. He’s the love of my life, Micah.”

I love him. Oh, fuck. I love Azriel.

“Then you leave me no choice,” Micah whispers, letting his hand drop from my neck.

I take in a much-needed breath, and he shakes his head and retreats, stepping backward into the hallway. With one last sad look, he goes to his room and closes the door.

And me?

I fall to my knees and sob.

Terrified.