MessyWriter_18
This story is R-18 and not suitable for young readers due to its mature themes.
Reader discretion is advised.
_________
Every night, the priest dreams of a devil. It touches him, whispers to him, taints him. Each time, the dream grows more vivid, more unbearable-his body remembers the pleasure, the sin, but when he wakes, there is no evidence of it ever happening. Only exhaustion, only the lingering heat of something forbidden.
At first, he prays. He begs for the visions to stop, for his faith to remain unshaken. But the devil is patient. It does not seek to break him in an instant. It enjoys his struggle, his denial, the way he still clasps his hands in prayer even as he trembles from the night before.
And when the dreams are no longer enough... the devil steps into his waking world.
Now, the priest must face the truth-is he being haunted, or is he being claimed?
"I belong to my Goddess," he rasped.
The devil chuckled, amused.
"No, you don't." The devil's voice was smooth, dangerously sweet. "You belong to me."
Before another prayer could leave his lips, the devil silenced him-his mouth crashing against his own in a claiming, inescapable kiss.
_________
(Ctto of the photo)