You walk passed the heavy doors of the church, feet padding across the carpet. It's eerily silent here at night, moonlight shining through the mosaic windows and lighting up the dust particles in the air. It's mostly empty, save for the familiar figure sitting in the front row, the back of their head a light brown, darker under the shadows.
You take steps forward, walking between the pews until you've reached halfway before stopping and it isn't until a few moments later that he turns around.
Mark looks the same.
Well, of course he does. It's only been a few months since you've last seen him. You don't think you've changed that much either because he's standing, eyes blown wide in disbelief as he recognises you. He doesn't move, so you do. Your feet seem to echo louder against the high walls, taking your time as you approach him and he sways unsteadily on his feet.
He takes a shuddering breath in when you finally stop in front of him, keeping your expression calm, indifferent.
"Mark..." You whisper, and he exhales with his entire body, your cold palm touching his cheek. He leans into it, eyes falling half-lidded and his own hand joins yours.
"Y/N?" It feels like he's dreaming. That this is just some ghost of you his mind has fabricated with the last of his yearning. How long has it been? He wonders. Weeks, months, maybe even a year. It may only seem like a small-time apart but it feels so distant compared to the both of you meeting here every night before.
You give him the smallest of smiles, thumb stroking his smooth skin and you lean up, faces only inches apart now. He wants to lean in too, wants you closer until your skin is burning against him like a fire ready to consume him whole.
He wants it. He misses it.
— The danger, the sin.
But he feels if he does anything himself, you'll disappear like smoke, sticking to his clothes and following wherever he goes, just a murmur, a memory of you. Instead, he relishes in the feeling of your hand trailing up, fingers running through his hair, and he feels himself drowning when your lips brush the side of his lips.
"Oh angel, how much have you missed me?" He doesn't answer. He swallows thickly under the silence, the longing, swallowing down all the frustrated words he planned to say the next time you showed up in front of him.
He had planned a whole rejection out in his head. From the way you'd grace him with the mere sight of you, showing up in this holy space like a devil under the guise of an innocent. He had wanted to push you away, have that satisfaction fill his chest at the way you'd gape at him in shock. Maybe you'd cry, but he doesn't know if you're capable of it.
Your fingers play with his strands, your other coming to rest above his heart.
Thump.. thump.. thump, thump, thump.
It beats faster when you graze the surface of his neck with your mouth, smattering a line down of things reminiscent of kisses. Then your tongue juts out between your lips when you reach the base, slowly licking back up to his chin. He's taking shorter breaths, hands closed into tight fists at his side and the scent of his clothing detergent isn't new to you.
"You haven't answered my question..." Your words trail up his jawline until you're murmuring into his ear. You then quickly dip your head down and take the sensitive flesh beneath it between your teeth, sucking hard and he makes his first whimper, knees feeling weak as a rush of pleasure floods his head.
"I've missed you." He rasps out, the weight in his throat never letting up.
You hum this time, letting his words ring and fade throughout the church before your hand in his hair tugs harshly, pulling down and he yells in pain. "Want to show me how much?" You ask and he nods in quick agreement, following your hand down to kneel on the floor in front of you. "Good, it's nice to see you be a good boy again." He groans at the praise, hands working to tug your pants down and you kick them to the side along with your panties. You plant your feet wider apart, giving him space and he wastes no time burying his head between your legs.
