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Pale sunlight filters through sparse clouds that threaten to block a wonderful sky blue. It illuminates the greenish outdoor, yet it’s brisk, pure. The definition of a summer day you’d read about in penny novels.
One could only wonder, did God play favoritism with his children? Surely, he would smile down at those with his blessing, their divine right carried into their posture, leaked into their confidence and pride, upheld them-
“Eli, was it? You’ve become distracted yet again.”
It’s true, he’s been studying the array of roses on lush lining the courtyard. An odd choice of color, he grasps for their unspoken meaning to no avail. By notice of his name, he’s drawn back to the table, to the unfamiliar setting of a noblemen’s tolerant social. The words that pull him back are harsh, yet comforted by a gesture of a smile given by the shorter man who’s delivered them.
“Oh, my apologies to you, my Lords. And to you, Countess.”
Eli gestures forward to the woman sitting opposite to him. As far as he can tell, she is paying no mind to his few but careful words, preoccupied with the porcelain teacup pressed to her painted red lips. The cup is daintily placed back onto its saucer and the Countess offers Eli the reassurance of a faint smile. “No need for such formalities, Reverend. Please, continue. You request a sponsorship from what I understand?”
“ Yes,” Eli finds the confidence to continue, fingers smoothing out his white scapular in his lap, “My church doesn’t have the means to afford a repair. On a particularly windy day, the roof might even cave in! It’s only a matter of time until it’ll become unsafe to worship.”
The white haired woman, Mary, presses her lips together in thought. She would’ve spoken if not for the utterance by the man of view words to her right.
“Why should we care?”
He’s cutting a pastry in half with a silver knife, as unbothered as his tone suggests. His face mask and sun hat obscure his expression, but Eli is sure the man hasn’t looked up from his plate.
“Aesop, have some manners, will you?” Mary lightly scolds before she brings her attention back to the holy man in front of her, though, she hesitates, and Eli’s heart has a rocky fall from his chest to the pit of his stomach. “Though, now I am wondering the benefits of me pouring funds into a lower class house of prayer.”
The priest stares down at his neglected cup of tea. Earl Gray. He’s never tasted green tea, only the bitter taste of black served with milk. It’s far too expensive for his taste, yet he raises it to his lips in a daring attempt to collect and distract himself, even for just a moment’s notice.
“Need there be a benefit? You jest, Mary. You’re supporting a wonderful Anglican Church,” That shorter man speaks up once again. His voice is unfiltered, unlike the others who are more than capable of controlling their cadence. He is considerably more outspoken and with the way he carries himself, Eli would undoubtedly mistaken him for a man of his class. The man’s boyish shorts and argyle socks paint an image of his immature nature- not that Eli would’ve looked down to see such garments, of course.
“Hush, Hound. This is my decision to make,” Mary shoos him with her hand. A wry smile paints Aesop’s expression from underneath his mask. The other noble notices and shoots him a glare that Aesop courteously ignores.
“Mmmm. But I think it isn’t.” The short Lord wears a smug grin, “I could easily sponsor the church. What do you think, Eli?”
Now that all the attention is suddenly brought back to Eli, he wishes by some miracle that he could shrink down in his chair and become insignificant in their bickering. He still supports the teacup in his dominant hand, thin handle clutched tightly between his thumb and pointer. Lady Mary is glaring holes into the priest with her piercing, dark eyes, as if it’s been his idea for this rapscallion to speak up in his place!
“Well, Reverend?”
A gloved hand firmly squeezes his thigh and all the nerves in Eli’s body violently shake at once. The tension in his knees mixed with the sudden, foreign hand create a spout of anxiety and panic that cause him to jump in his seat under the hold. The teacup teeters between his fingers before it’s tragic descent from his grasp. The collision of porcelain against the wooden table causes all to cringe. The miracle Eli’s prayed for is answered as the small river of Earl Gray narrowly misses the pure white tablecloth. With a splatter, the hot liquid lands directly in his lap, soaking his scapular through and through. He gasps, frantically gathering the napkin folded beside his plate to soak up the puddle sinking into his crotch.
“My sincere apologies, my Lords, Countess—“ Eli squeaks, pressing the cloth into his skirt. He can feel the moistness begin to dampen his trousers. He’s blushing madly, rosiness staining his cheeks alike the spot of light brown he knows will never rid itself from this fabric. The hand from his thigh has been long since removed, replaced with another napkin to aid Eli’s efforts. The priest looks over to the nobleman in question, the culprit of his panic.
Through the thin veil of black masking Eli’s eyes, he can see the other’s embarrassed smile. It’s charming and lovable. If not for the rose already present, Eli’s face might’ve been dusted further by the hue.
“No need to apologize! Accidents happen. Here, let me escort you inside. There’s plenty of spare slacks for you to borrow, Reverend.” The man stands, brushing nonexistent dust from his shorts before offering his hand forward. Eli has no choice but to accept. The nobleman turns his head to the others still situated at the table, “Excuse us.” He lightly bows his head and Eli stands, his free hand still bunches both napkins to moistened fabric. Eli bows as well, muttering another apology under his breath for the inconvenience.
They silently exit the courtyard. If the priest were to turn his head, he’d see the light gossip of Lady Mary and Lord Aesop directed his way. Though he held too much shame to look back, opting to watch his feet as he traveled.
-----
The inside of the estate is noticeably cooler. Hushed and beautiful, like the garden, yet the frequency of cicadas and the chirp of blue birds do not penetrate the walls of the manor. Eli is escorted inside a room entirely composed of polished, oak wood furniture. One wall is nothing but a wardrobe, garments lined with golden thread and embroidery that feel too expensive for a commoner’s touch. A shoe shelf filled with polished leather sits next to a large bureau. The wood is luminous against the rays of sunshine pouring through the casement doors leading to the expanse of greens outside.
The door clicks shut behind him and Eli turns to face the nobleman. He’s halfway through the action before a pair of hands grab his broad shoulders and complete his turn, the priest’s back knocking against the wooden door as he releases an “-Oh!” It’s all to sudden. A pair of chapped lips are attacking the expanse between his chin and collar.
“My Lord, I-“ Eli stutters as he involuntarily tilts his chin upwards, expanding the canvas for his assailant.
“Naib,” his nobleman’s voice is breathy and husky in his ear. “I am Naib Subedar, and you will refer to me as such.” Teeth catch against Eli’s lobe teasingly, a hum vibrating in his throat.
The Lord- no, Naib’s breath is hot under his ear. The hair on Eli’s neck stands up as one of the hands gripping his shoulders travels down, fingers trace down the priest’s arm until Naib’s fingers ghost over Eli’s. Eli still holds the napkins tightly against his groin, but with the other’s coaxing, his grip weakens. Once more, kisses are littered against his pale skin, some catching longer than others. Later, they will bloom into small, red nips.
“My Reverend... such a harlot,” Naib murmurs between kisses, voice laced and dripping with a suggestiveness that makes Eli’s groin ache.
“Naib...” Eli voices breathlessly.
The other is preoccupied with more languid kisses to Eli’s neck. His tongue traces the skin caught between his lips. When he pulls away, the exposed mark grows cold from neglect.
“Mmm. Say my name again.”
“Naib,” Eli repeats. Naib sighs in content.
The napkins in Eli’s grip have fallen to his feet as his arms move to either side of his Lord’s neck. Naib presses the heel of his hand against the priest’s crotch. The dampness of his trousers is cold against his half-hard cock. “Look at this mess you’ve made. So filthy for me, Eli.” A squeeze and Eli gasps and squirms in Naib’s hold, back tensing as he tries to buck up into the man’s hand to relieve himself. “You religious types love to feign innocence, like I haven’t been watching you undress me with your eyes,” No response. “What, like you believe this veil protects you?”
Naib’s free hand pulls back Eli’s veil to reveal a pair of intoxicatingly innocent cerulean eyes, half-lidded and unfocused, yet piercing through Naib like a silver dagger straight through his chest. Spouts of brown hair hang in Eli’s eyes and Naib goes to work brushing them away. His fingers slot a stray weft of hair behind the man’s ear before Naib leans in, brushing his nose against Eli’s. Their breaths mix for an unspoken moment, the proximity threatening to give in.
“Naib?” It’s spoken as less than a whisper. The other can feel the ghost of the words against his lips.
“Mm?”
“Do take care of me,” before Eli leans forward and closes the distance himself.
Their lips slot together in tandem. For a while, their kiss consists of nothing but feverish lips, smooth and growing increasingly raw from the friction. It’s Naib that initiates the usage of tongues. Lips become irrelevant in the dance of tongues, Naib pushing the kiss deeper into Eli’s mouth as he sucks on the other’s organ. Eli’s fingers play with the stray hairs that have fallen from the nobleman’s ponytail. The pads of his digits press against the band holding that ponytail together. He runs his fingers through Naib’s bound hair. It’s incredibly smooth, like angel’s hair in the way it catches gold in the sunlight. The kiss (if it can even classify as one anymore) is growing unbearably hot and bothered. Naib has Eli pressed firmly against the door, bulges catching friction on each other at the faintest movement, even if they are anything but. As he sucks Eli’s bottom lip raw in his mouth, he hikes up one of Eli’s legs by his thigh, pressing their crotches together with a sharp thrust. Naib swallows the priest’s involuntary moan and it tastes delicious against his tongue. Carefully, the last leg supporting Eli is brought up as well, and he wraps them around Naib’s waist. Most of his weight is now supported by the door, the rest supported by Naib’s hands holding his thighs.
When their lips finally depart from one another, Eli is the first to continue by peppering Naib’s face with chaste kisses.
“Hold onto me, we’re moving,” Naib’s grip on Eli tightens. Eli is only given a second’s notice to wonder how this considerably shorter man will support his body weight before he’s clinging to Naib’s body and being carried over to the expensive cabriole sofa situated in the middle of the room. Naib sits down and Eli’s legs fall to either side of the man’s lap. They sit there for a moment, breathing, panting. Naib teasingly rolls his hips upwards, the clothed head of his dick pressing into the crevice of Eli’s ass cheeks. Eli is taken by surprise for the third time today, getting carried away by riding out the sensation, moaning continuously as he does so. Naib watches from below him, watching kiss-bitten lips form an organic “O” as Eli moans for him.
“For a man of God, you sure are a whore,” Naib comments.
“For a man so short,” Eli pants, “You sure are strong.”
“Is that a compliment?”
Naib raises his hips to meet Eli’s as they go down, eliciting a gorgeous moan from the man on top.
“Possibly,” Eli’s voice is shaky as he finally settles down on Naib’s lap.
Naib’s hands trace Eli’s sides, traveling from his thighs to his waist and back down again. He hums as Eli relaxes into his touch. “Do you want me, Eli?”
Eli leans forward and places a firm kiss to the noble’s lips before he answers, “Yes, please, my Lord.”
The next moments pass agonizingly slow as Eli is repositioned to lay with his stomach hovering over Naib’s lap as his ass hangs up in the air. His scapular has been pulled up and is now bunched up under him, his damp trousers pulled down past his knees (he shifts them fully off later). Two fingers prod at Eli’s lips and he allows them access, sucking the digits as his tongue runs over Naib’s knuckles. He coats them generously with his spit before Naib pulls out and brings them behind Eli. The coldness of his saliva circling his desperate hole causes a shallow gasp. The first knuckle penetrates his behind and Eli shutters at the feeling of finally being used. It pulls out, only to come back and travel deeper. Saliva isn’t anywhere as slippery as it should be. When he tenses around Naib’s finger, it feels dry and foreign. Some time passes before it’s working it’s way in and out of Eli at a steady pace. Despite the pre that’s been dripping onto the bunched up skirt concealing his cock, the feeling is far from uncomfortable. It’s only when a second finger is added that he’s sprung back to life, pushing back on the second finger that works it’s way deep into him.
Despite the jerk of his hips, Eli groans, “Please, Naib, it’s too much-“
“Then learn to take it,” Naib answers as he spreads his fingers, scissoring Eli’s hole.
Eli buries his face in his arms as his behind is assaulted. He’s growing accustomed to it again when a particularly hard jab hits right against his prostate. He nearly cries, rocking back on Naib’s hand, rutting into the fabric of his scapular. Eli is just now realizing how wonderful it feels against his aching dick. He thrusts into it as Naib quickens his pace, barely pulling out, fingers more focused on attacking that particular spot in Eli’s ass. It continues like this until an undeniable heat builds up in Eli’s gut. Both his mouth and hips stutter as he fucks into his skirt, spending himself as Naib slows down his pace. Eli feels the sudden neglect of his anus, but it’s overshadowed by his afterglow.
“Oh my god,” the holy man uses the lord’s name in vain, highlighting the irony of it all.
Naib sighs, “Mmm. You’re such a slut for my fingers, I can’t imagine how beautiful you’ll sound on my dick.”
Eli turns back to look at him, expression caught between confusion and disbelief, “But- I’ve already cum, Naib.”
“You think you can only cum once? Is that what they’re teaching you in Sunday School?” Naib jokes, pulling Eli back up to sit on his lap. Eli can feel the mixture of tea and cum press up against him, uncomfortably so, yet it doesn’t stop Naib from pampering the priest. As he traces Eli’s jawline with his kisses, deft fingers begin to work upon the buttons of Eli’s vest, followed by his button-up. Those layers, along with Eli’s blazer, are shrugged off easily. Naib could spend an eternity mapping out Eli’s entire chest with kisses and love bites, paying extra attention to his hardened nipples with his tongue, but his own cock is painfully hard in his shorts.
Eli must’ve noticed, because now he’s lowering himself off of Naib’s lap and situates himself between the noble’s legs. “Allow me.”
The man’s hands rub Naib’s exposed thighs, fingertips daring to tease the skin hidden beneath the fabric of Naib’s shorts before traveling back down to his knees. Naib can’t help but laugh, “I don’t believe this is your first time, Reverend.”
“What if it isn’t?” Eli shoots back, soft eyes looking up at Naib as the man’s fingers unbutton his shorts and begin to tug them down. Naib lets himself become entranced by the blue of Eli’s eyes as he attempts to imagine the priest before him being used in honest by many hypothetical men before him. How loud did he moan for them? Was it selfish to want Eli all to himself now?
Naib’s trousers are pulled down and his cock springs up before Eli. He stares at it with sparks in his eyes, like a child observing a lollipop- and he treats it like one, too. No time is wasted on teasing as Eli engulfs the head of Naib’s dick, tongue continuously dipping into his slit with no remorse. Eli’s thin fingers wrap around the base to keep it still, slowly working Naib’s foreskin up and down as he does. The nobleman grabs at Eli’s short hair, struggling to not force the priest’s head down to his base and paint his throat white with his release. When Eli pulls away, it’s to spit in his hand and use the slippery leverage to continue jerking Naib off. The priest gathers more spit in his mouth, and when the amount is substantial enough, his tongue leisurely rolls out of his mouth and he drools, spit pooling on the head and overflowing down Naib’s shaft. A mix of precum and spit covers every inch of Naib’s dick as Eli leaves with a parting gift of a kiss to his slit.
Finally, Eli stands, removing the tea and cum-stained skirt, letting it puddle at his feet. He stands there, a stray sun ray cascading over his body. Naib thinks it’s futile to worship a God when men like Eli Clark exist.
“May I?” Even with his raw lips stained in pre, the priest keeps his polite demeanor.
“Of course,” Naib answers, and Eli is setting himself over the other man again, this time with his back pressed to Naib’s chest. Eli grabs Naib’s dick and aligns it with his entrance. “Eli.” He turns his head and Naib catches him in another kiss that makes his lips ache. The feeling is mutual in his asshole as it’s stretched further than Naib’s fingers ever could. The head situates itself in the tight warmth, Eli slowly but surely taking in the rest of Naib’s length. He’s average at best, but his girth works wonders against the walls of Eli’s anus. After a couple of thrusts, the priest now sits snug at the base of the noble’s cock.
They continue to kiss, tongues lapping at each other like close friends. Naib is getting tired of the cockwarming, thrusting up into Eli. The man cries into his mouth, detaching himself to throw his head over Naib’s shoulder and pant. “Please, please, please!” He begs.
“Please what?” Naib plays clueless, now using his time to play with Eli’s chest, feeling guilty for allowing himself to overlook it earlier.
Eli squirms under him, rolling his hips for some semblance of relief, “Fill me up, please! I need you, Naib, please..”
That’s all Naib needs to hear before he starts thrusting. Eli is so tight despite the earlier stretching, insides suctioning to Naib’s dick through every push. Eli’s hand finds the one attached to his nipple, pulling it away to interlock their fingers as he bounces on Naib’s cock. There’s a mixture of the noble’s grunts in Eli’s ears and the unceremonious chime to his mewling. Looking over the other’s shoulder, Naib sees Eli’s neglected cock bouncing along with his thrusts, heavy against the man’s thigh. Naib picks it up, pulling down Eli’s foreskin with a sharp and calculated thrust into the man’s ass. He thumbs at the divot of his head, collecting drops of cum as he runs it along the tip. Naib is beginning to grow more frantic with his movements, chin digging into the space between Eli’s neck and shoulder for stability and he fucks up into him. There’s sure to be a bruise later. Eli shifts himself and the telltale arch of his back tells Naib that he’s hit Eli’s prostate for the second time today. They both thrust to meet each other desperately, their moans mix together deliciously with the slapping of skin against skin and the smell of sex in the air.
“Oh! Ah, Naib!” Eli voices as his fingers tighten. His hold on Naib’s hand is almost as hard as his dick, which is being tugged at in a way that overstimulation washes over him.
Naib brings Eli’s hand to his lips, kissing his whitened knuckles. “Cum for me, Eli.”
As if by command, Eli is tightening around Naib’s dick and releasing all over himself and Naib’s hand. He shutters as Naib milks him dry of his thick semen. His Lord is still thrusting feverishly into Eli’s hole, sending him into a spasm of overstimulation. He’s babbling senselessly, realizing that tears are beginning to prickle at the corner of beautiful, blue eyes. A few more spurts of cum trail down the hand still placed on his dick before Naib’s finally spent. He bites into Eli’s shoulder as he cums, riding out his orgasm into the shaking priest.
-----
“We’ve been gone so long, those snoozers have probably left by now, don’t you think?”
Eli observes himself in the long mirror, trying to adjust his collar to conceal the purple marks emerging on his skin. “Shouldn’t we at least check?” He glances back at the man behind him.
“Why should we?” Naib waltzes over, loosely placing his arms around Eli’s waist, letting them settle against the man’s hips. “You have a sponsor now, don’t you?”
Eli turns to face Naib, “What? Truly?”
The nobleman places a kiss to the priest’s round nose with an affectionate smile. “Why of course. As long as you’re able to supply me with private prayer lessons, that is.”
“I don’t see why not,” Eli answers with a chuckle as he leans into Naib’s lips once more.