Chapter 7
THEOBALD
VigiIs finished a while ago, and all the monks have taken the night stairs direct from the church to the dormitory and are asleep.
I take a shift of walking the room to make sure they all stay where they should be.
It’s a duty I haven’t carried out since becoming abbot, and I got a few curious glances from Brother Cabel who was on duty to do the same, but he didn’t dare question me.
Eventually, though, in the early hours, with the threat of sleep about to overwhelm me, I return to my rooms. I can’t avoid them forever.
Annoyance that Emmett appeared in the cloister still prickles me as I quietly open the door to my room.
I don’t want to wake him across the corridor if he’s a light sleeper.
I set the candle on a chest as I take off my robes, my tunic, and my drawers.
Except in the frigid cold of winter, I prefer to sleep naked.
I turn to the bed, with the candle behind me.
Shadows crowd in front of me and in the low light I can see the shape of a body.
“Who’s there?” I demand, taking a step back and watching in horror as a drowsy Emmett raises his head.
“Father?” His sleepy voice sends a shiver down my spine and his mussed and very adorable hair makes my cock twitch.
This is in no way a good situation. I move further away as he sits up.
What the hell is he doing in my room, in my bed?
I pace as I try to think what to do next.
With exasperation, I whirl around to face him again.
“What are you doing here?” I ask sharply. His mouth opens as if he’s about to speak, then his eyes drop as he takes in my nakedness and his tongue darts out to lick his lips.
My traitorous dick, already taut from a thwarted orgasm yesterday, thickens and swells under his gaze.
I watch as a pretty pink flush spreads up Emmett’s neck. He’s as aroused as I am.
“You need to leave now,” I hiss. I can’t let anything happen. I might as well tie the noose around my own neck.
His eyes meet mine for a second and then he rises from my bed, his undershirt just grazing the top of his pert ass. He crosses to the door and I blow out a breath, but my relief is short-lived when he locks it and turns back around.
“What is it you want?” I demand.
“You, Father,” he says and kneels in front of me.
“Emmett—” My voice strains with the effort of keeping some self-control.
“Don’t send me away again.” His voice is shaky. “Please.”
Him on his knees in front of me is more than any mortal man could resist, and precum beads on the swollen head of my cock.
He licks his lips again and raises his eyes to mine. Those beautiful blue eyes with their pupils blown.
“Please, Father,” he whispers, and I’m undone.
I reach for the long embroidered silk stole from my vestments.
“Tie this around your eyes.” I hold it out to him.
“I don’t—”
“Do it,” I command. “I need you to cover your eyes. Only God may witness my sin. Then I’ll only have to beg him for forgiveness.”
His hands quiver as he complies.
“Is it done?” I ask.
“Yes, Father,” he whispers as his body trembles.
I lay my hand on his head and he leans into it to steady himself. His body in supplication, with his eyes bound and the candlelight catching his blond hair in a golden glow, is a beautiful sight.
“Good boy,” I say and he lets out a small whimper that travels straight to my balls.
I’m going to hell for this.
I cup his jaw with my hand and run my thumb over his soft, plump lips until he opens his mouth. I slip my thumb in and he sucks eagerly. Dear God, he does want this.
I gently pull my hand away and he sits, waiting, his pretty lips glistening in the low light.
I can’t wait any longer and I inch forward until the head of my cock touches his lips.
He smiles before engulfing me with the wet heat of his mouth.
I almost come with that first touch, but manage to grit my teeth and hold on.
He almost gags as he tries to take too much, and he’s clumsy, which makes me think that he’s never done this before.
I tangle my fingers in his soft hair as he licks and sucks me.
“Good boy,” I moan when he finds a perfect rhythm and pressure, and my hips involuntarily thrust into him.
The praise seems to spur him on, so I repeat the words as he speeds up.
My groans are incoherent now, I’m just mumbling, but I don’t care.
I can barely keep my hold on reality as I watch my dick disappearing into his stretched lips.
My balls tighten and I thrust harder, riding the wave of pleasure as my orgasm rips through me and I dump my load into his mouth.
He doesn’t pull away as I quake with the last shudders of my orgasm.
I slip my dick out of his mouth and he bows his head.
He looks so young and vulnerable that tenderness takes over me.
I ease him off the floor and sit on the bed, pulling him onto my lap.
“Can I take this off?” His voice is small as he touches the stole that blindfolds him.
I reach to untie it, and as it falls away he blinks, even though the light is low. Then I notice that his eyes are wet and his cheeks damp.
“What’s the matter, my son?” I ask.
“I-I don’t like the dark,” he stutters. Shit, I didn’t know that and never gave it a thought, I just wanted no one to bear witness to my sin. Was that what he was trying to tell me?
“I’m sorry,” I whisper and he slips his arms around me, burying his head into my neck.
I haven’t had anyone this close to me in over thirty years.
It’s an odd sensation, but he feels right somehow.
After a moment’s hesitation I hold him to me, offering what comfort I can for my mistake.
He sighs and nuzzles into me, sparking a warmth deep inside.
I can feel his dick hard against my stomach, and when I pull back slightly to look down, there’s a damp stain on his shirt. I look back at him, and his face flushes with embarrassment.
“Would you like me to take care of that for you?” I say in a low voice.
He bites his lip and then nods before resting his head on my shoulder.
A gesture that melts my core. I reach for the jar of salve I keep by my bed, made by Matthew for when my knees get stiff in the colder months.
Primarily consisting of butter, it has a blend of herbs and will do well enough for this purpose.
I lift his undershirt and see his dick, long and thin and as pretty as he is.
I coat my hand with some of the salve and wrap it around him.
I try to be gentle at first, but he moans, “Faster” against my shoulder.
The salve warms, and soon the room is filled with the heady smells of rosemary and chamomile.
“Very good.” I can’t help the praise slipping out, and his hips start moving as he throws his head back, exposing his long beautiful neck, and starts thrusting against me.
“Good boy, that’s it, you fuck my hand. You fuck it good and hard.
” The words slip out but I don’t regret them as he bites down on his lip and responds to my encouragement.
I let out another string of praise and he hums and moans at each stroke of my hand.
I feel his body go taut as if he’s fighting his release.
I want to see him come. I want to see his pretty face cry out in ecstasy and for me to be the one to bring it to him.
“Come for me, my pretty boy,” I say, my voice deeper than normal.
His whole body quivers and then his back arches and his mouth opens wordlessly.
He spills all over my hand in waves. Then his body sags and he goes limp against me.
I lay him down gently and stand, finding a linen cloth to clean him up and wipe my hands.
By the time I return he’s already asleep.
With his blond hair ruffled and his light lashes against the pink of his cheeks, he’s the prettiest thing I’ve seen in a long time. He’s also the most dangerous, and I can’t help thinking I might have sealed my fate tonight.