Chapter 117 Filthy With Cum
WILL’S POV
Father Michael’s lips curled into something feral, his eyes glinting with dark satisfaction as he stared down at me with my tongue out and cheeks flushed, my whole appearance practically begging without saying another word.
“Good fucking boy.”
He fisted the base of his cock, slick and shining from both our mouths, and dragged the swollen head across my tongue again letting me taste the mix of spit and pre-cum and the faint salt of Baron’s throat.
Then he shifted his grip to my hair, yanking my head back just enough to force my eyes up to meet his.
“Both of you. Side by side. Tongues out. Now.”
Baron moved instantly, almost eagerly, scooting closer on his knees until our shoulders brushed.
His face was wrecked, with red-rimmed eyes, spit-slick chin and his lips swollen and glistening.
He looked debauched in a way I never imagined the strict, buttoned-up priest could. And fuck, it made my cock throb harder.
We knelt there like we were obedient altar boys, our tongues flat and waiting, cheeks almost touching.
Michael stroked himself once, twice—long, tight pulls—his breathing ragged.
The wet sound of his fist filled the silence between us.
“Eyes on me,” he growled and we both obeyed.
He aimed first at Baron.
The first thick rope hit Baron square across the tongue, painting white over pink.
Baron flinched, his lashes fluttering, but kept his mouth open.
Another spurt landed on his cheek, then his upper lip.
He moaned and I watched, mesmerized, as his tongue darted out to catch what he could.
Then Michael turned to me.
The next pulse that shot out struck the flat of my tongue. I groaned around it, tasting him as another stripe landed across my lips, dripping down my chin.
He kept going, painting both of us in messy, overlapping streaks until our faces were a ruin of cum and spit and flushed skin.
When the last weak spurt landed between us, Michael exhaled roughly and smeared the head of his softening cock across both our tongues at once.
“Swallow,” he ordered, his voice low and wrecked.
I closed my mouth first and swallowed hard, throat working, feeling the thick slide all the way down.
Beside me, Baron did the same, his eyes squeezed shut, Adam’s apple bobbing as he forced it down.
A thin thread of cum still clung to the corner of his mouth and I leaned over and licked it away.
Michael stepped back, chest heaving, looking between us like he was admiring his work.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. “Look at the two of you… filthy little priests, covered in my cum.”
My cock was so hard it hurt and it was leaking steadily, smearing against my thigh every time I shifted.
Baron’s was in the same state it seemed, with his cock dark red and twitching, a bead of pre at the tip.
Michael’s gaze dropped to our straining erections, then flicked back up.
“Who’s going to come first, hm?” His voice was velvet danger. “Because neither of you is touching yourselves until I say so.”
He sank down into the chair behind him, legs spread, spent cock resting heavy against his thigh.
“Put your hands behind your backs and keep them there.”
We obeyed instantly, our shoulders pulled back, chests rising and falling too fast.
Michael tilted his head, studying us.
“Kiss each other. Slow. Let me watch my cum smear between your mouths.”