Chapter One

Father forgive me for I have sinned. Absolve me of my sins and grant me the strength for today’s work. Thank you, Father. Amen.

Tuning out the small voice of doubt, he touches the cool metal crucifix to his heart and then to his lips, making the cross sign. Then he latches his eyes open. 

His palms are sweaty, he notes as his heart drums a harsh staccato in the confinement of his ribcage. Sweatier than they usually are whenever he goes for an exorcism, and in this cursed little town of Hapeville, they never run out of citizens who are possessed by lackluster demons. So why is he on edge this particular Monday morning? Why can’t he be the usually calm and collected priest who brought peace to the corrupted souls of his church members? Why is he so nervous that he has to pinch the bridge of his nose to hold back his nausea? 

Right. 

It isn’t just anybody who got possessed. It’s … God. He whispers, swiping his tongue over his top teeth. Only Father Khatri can make the embodiment of everything holy sound so sinful and dirty. But it isn’t his fault. Just a single thought of Matthew McPherson, Father Khatri nearly ejaculates down the leg of his trouser, his cock forgetting every single vow he took before he was ordained as a priest.

Unable to help himself, he hugs his dick with his hand, the black cassock covering it doing jack-shit to protect his dark secret…his shame.

Oh by everything holy, when did this all start? Khatri wonders, almost in pain as his cock throbs harder. A year ago, he was confident that he defeated temptation and was above the enticement of bodily pleasure until it came in the form of Matthew McPherson. The gangly boy was all limbs and shyness that made Khatri’s next words stuck in his throat as he strolled into the church, plaid shirt sticking to lean muscles, dark khaki pants that made the priest’s fingers itch with the need to peel them off him. Jesus. Khatri was appalled by his own thoughts but they won’t stop flooding his head as he stood on the pulpit, his stiff collar suddenly too stiff for him to breathe.

 Nothing so pure…so perfect has ever graced Hapeville, not to talk of the crumbling church. But there he was in the flesh, sitting in the front row, watching Khatri with curious blue eyes, head tilted to the side, bottom lip snagged between pearly white teeth. A maddening urge to tug on the boy’s plump lower lip with his own teeth slammed into him, knocking the breath away from his lungs as his loins tightened. That night, after the service, Khatri stumbled to his office, fell to his knees and begged for forgiveness, cried to the lord to wash away this grime trying to stain his soul. But five minutes into the prayer, Khatri found that behind his closed eyes, all he could see was the boy’s plump lips taking him down his throat.

Goddam! He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, hoping to stop any other images from invading his mind.

Jesus. What was it about the boy that pushed his tightly pressed buttons? Khatri hadn’t felt as horny as this since he was fifteen, in catholic school.

Sighing, he dropped his hands from his face. And when he opened his eyes, they landed on the bible beside him. He sat up, bringing the bible with him and opened the bible verse he had recommended to countless people to battle the demon of lust. This was just a test, a temptation, he said to himself, eyes eating up the content of the pages.

But just as suddenly as the first time, an image of the boy lapping up a bead of precum on the bruise-colored tip of his cock flashed in his mind and it throbbed in response.

It was so unexpected that the rest of his body stiffened. When the image replayed in his head, and his cock throbbed again, he could feel the heat creeping up his body, even though no one else was in the room to see his shame. Maybe except God himself.

Khatri ran a hand through his hair, almost in tears as his dick had hardened painfully behind his zipper. With shaky hands, he reached down to adjust himself and without knowing, he opened the fly, but it didn’t do anything to relieve the throbbing pressure.

For the first time in years, Khatri closed his eyes and squeezed his cock over the top of his boxer briefs, and the shot of lust that ran through him had his eyes practically rolling to the back of his head.

Holy … fuck.

As he allowed himself to fantasize more, he grew harder beneath his hands. His dick was utterly aware of someone he barely knew, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Moving his hand up and down his covered cock, he struggled to breathe as the realization hit him full force. He was harder than he’d ever been and even though he wanted to blame what he was doing on a demon possessing him, that voice in his head knew exactly what was going down. Guilt and embarrassment collided with the heavy dose of sexual desire coursing through his veins, and he halted his hand. His breath came out in heavy pants, his mind divided.

Don’t worry. He’s not here. No one will ever know…

As if the devil was whispering in his ears, Khatri stopped thinking. Shoving his boxers down, he freed his cock and wrapped a hand around the hard length. He stroked down and then up, spreading the pre-cum from the head of his dick down his erection, giving him a smoother slide as he revisited his fantasy. In his mind, the boy looked straight into his eyes and licked his full red lips made for sucking cock and Khatri moaned out loud, his hips jerking up.

God, he never looked at any of his congregation’s mouth before but now all he could think of was how the boy’s lips would feel against his. 

He imagined the boy’s voice, raspy and soft as he leaned in, jerking his cock. Then he’d whisper, “Fuck me, Father, For I had been a bad boy.”

That was all it took for his orgasm to come barreling to the surface, spilling over every surface in his room, the opened page of the bible, his chest, as his hand—the boy’s hand—milked every bit of cum out of him until he couldn’t open his eyes anymore.

That was the start of his obsession.

Khatri soon discovered that the boy’s family, consisting of a mother and an older sister, had just moved into town, shacking up in one of the houses on the outskirts. It made Khatri’s obsession easier. Every day, he found an excuse to pass by their front door, just to catch a glimpse of the boy that could be his downfall. A downfall that became more and more dangerously appealing with every passing day. Need him. I need him.

 “Should I come with you, Father?” the assistant priest’s timid voice cuts into his thoughts and Khatri jolts upright with so much force as if he was in a trance.

“What?” he gasps, his brain trying to process where he is and what’s going on.

“I said," Should I come with you? " To the exorcism?”

Father Khatri blinks hard and then glances at his wristwatch and realizes the boy’s family is waiting for him.

Picking his bible, he shakes his head. “No, I’ve got this.”

As he leaves the church, Khatri knows he’s not returning home the same man.