Archive of Our Own

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The fire of lust burns harsher on the skins of the sinful flesh. 

Thomas held down the Holy Father's hips as he straddled him in this small little booth. They had nowhere to do it in, Innocent had finished a late night mass and he barely got a break himself. His throat must've been sore from the hours of talking he had to do. A distant part of Thomas’ brain had wanted to care for him, say a prayer so his soft and gentle voice would be healed.

Which was why Lawrence was making him hold in his sounds by pressing his palm on his lips. If anybody found them in here, they were done for. But perhaps that's the thrill they were both seeking. Anybody could go to the other side and confess their sins, and the Holy Father would be swallowed up in the fires of lust to properly answer.

“Oh, my dear Vincent, you truly are remarkable.” He whispered by his ear, rolling his hips up to meet him. He could feel Benítez' cockhead twitch through the thin white underwear he wore under his papal vestments. "I don't believe I would have the courage to pull this off."

Vincent pulled back to cup Lawrence's face. " Tomás . These recent months have been so precious to me." He whispered, letting out a breathy whimper when he felt his Dean's hand palm his cock. "You've helped me discover a piece of myself that I didn't know existed. That lust could be used as virtue given the circumstance–" He gasped, bucking into his hand. 

"I know, my love." He breathed heavily, circling his bulge with the heel of his palm. His own cock was straining in his pants. If they were in private, he would've impaled Innocent with his cock and forcefully move him up and down, just as he adored it. But ironically, – or perhaps unironically, –  Benítez was the one in charge. He decided what to do, when to stop, what position to be in. Just as they'd established months ago, after the fateful conversation in the garden.

"Your Holiness. I-I've." He cleared his throat. "Not been sleeping well," That part was true. "And I've been dealing with some… difficulties."

This conversation almost mirrored the one they had months ago, close to the exact same spot. Vincent remembered it fondly. It was one of the few good memories he looked back with when remembering the three days of confusion. Confusion, and burdened with an overwhelming sense of duty.

Now it came with being Pope. At least he liked this gilded cage, for now. 

He wasn't going to ask his Dean if he had problems with his faith. Instead, he waited for him to elaborate. Thomas, sensing this, swallowed.

"With… mortal feelings, Father."

He remembered it clear as day. It was the best day in Lawrence's long life; It actually made him believe soulmates existed; they were fated by God to meet. 

Vincent rolled his hips against Thomas bulge, angling them just right so both of cocks would kiss through their trousers, making Lawrence groan and tilt his head back. His Holiness pressed his own hand to his Dean's mouth, chuckling. "I enjoy your moans mi querido , but as you can see we why might be the ones confessing at this point." 

His eyes fluttered, holding back groans of pleasure as they synced their hips. Thomas could feel Vincent's heat , it was driving him insane. If only he could taste his wetness; the thought made him leak precum in his underwear. 

"We should confess, Holy Father–" His voice muffled against the palm, the hand suddenly dropping down to clasp around his throat. His stomach flipped on it's head, trying to keep in a moan and failing.

"We have nothing to confess for." Benítez smiled warmly, brown eyes glinting in the faint light. "Our love is a cherishable thing, one that gets praised in the Songs. God has blessed me with your presence, and I shall see to it that I honor His gift."

Lawrence shuddered, the rosary in his hands tightening. He still didn't believe fully, but that would be more mean work for Vincent to convince him. More work that he wasn't opposed to. Work that he welcomed with open palms.

Vincent kissed him, shifting positions so he could ride his thigh. He sighed blissfully, rutting against the fabric and moaned freely in Lawrence's mouth, eyes slowly fluttering open. A hand came down to pump Thomas' clothed shaft, watching his eyebrows knit. 

"You are close, my love?" He panted, now riding his thigh without abandon. Watching Benítez chase his own pleasure using his body and whining had Thomas tilt his head back to stare at the wooden ceiling of the small, humid box. Like that day he observed Michelangelo on the Sistine's walls. 

"Vincent…" He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his hips to the Holy Father's lithe fingers. He was so close, he felt shameful admitting it. "Vincent– oh my love, my love–"

"Thomas…" Benítez cupped the back of his head, tilting it up to meet his eyes. His pure, holy eyes that Thomas did not deserve to be gazed at. He gave him a small kiss and whispered against his lips, "Let's finish together, as one. As one being made for His will." 

The Holy Father's hips quivered, Thomas feeling the cockhead throb and his wetness through his underwear on his thigh. He thought about Vincent laying on his bed, spreading his thighs to reveal his wet cunt to Thomas. Then he lost it.

"I– Vincent, Vincent!" He thrusted wildly in Benítez' palm, cock pulsing as it spilled in his pants. He panted, only one name rotated in his head as he sat in his own sin.

Benítez was whimpering, rutting to find his end and found it by having Lawrence press his thumb on his small cock. He whimpered out a little, ‘I'm cumming–’ as his eyes rolled back, tugging on Thomas' cassock and spasmed around on top. Every breath came out as a moan, still slowly rolling his hips to prolong his orgasm. 

He collapsed on top of his lover, moving from the wet spot on Thomas' thigh to lay on his chest. The man under him tangled his fingers in Benítez' beautiful black locks, hearing him purr from the affection. 

"I believe we should get going. Perhaps we can still catch the nighttime before it starts to rain." He raised the Holy Father's hand up to kiss his ring.

"Indeed, mi vida ." He stood up, hissing a bit at the overstimulation of rubbing against fabric. But he managed to stand up on his own feet without Lawrence's help. "And maybe we can see the turtles one last time before we settle into the night."

"They would get worried sick about your absence, Your Holiness." He smiled softly, cringing as he stood up as well. The wet, warm feeling in his underwear would've excited him if he still had the energy to go again. But not in this booth. Not in this church. In their own bed where he could have Vincent all to his own, with God and his angel bearing witness.

Vincent stole a kiss from him as he held his hands.  "Then let's go then. We shouldn't keep them waiting." 

They both exited the booth, heading off into the night. They needed to get some well needed shut-eye, but now His Holiness could rest. And all Thomas wanted in life was to make him happy. To serve.