Chapter 120 Fucking The Reverends
Michael’s free hand dropped between us and wrapped around my cock.
He stroked once and I screamed.
“Not yet,” he growled. “You come when I say.”
But he didn’t stop.
He jerked me in time with their thrusts and soon enough, precum slicked his fist. My balls drew up tight. The pressure built so fast I thought I’d black out.
Baron’s hands gripped my hips harder—bruising. His thrusts grew erratic, desperate. “I’m—Father Michael—I’m close—”
Michael’s voice was steel as he spat out, “Hold it.”
Baron sobbed against my back.
Michael’s strokes sped up. “Look at me, Will.”
I forced my eyes open. His were black, blown, glittering.
“You’re going to come on both our cocks. You’re going to milk us dry. Understand?”
I nodded frantically because I couldn’t speak.
He leaned in, lips brushing mine.
“Then come.”
The command snapped something inside me and I shattered.
My orgasm ripped through me like fire, my cock pulsing in Michael’s fist, spurting hot across his chest, his throat, his collarbone.
My hole clamped down hard around both cocks, fluttering, spasming.
Baron broke first, keening, hips snapping forward as he came deep inside me, flooding me with heat.
Michael followed a second later growling my name while his hips slammed up once, twice, burying himself to the hilt as he emptied again.
I felt every pulse mixing with Baron’s cum, leaking out around their cocks, dripping down my thighs.
We stayed locked like that for long seconds, panting, trembling, fused together.
Then Michael moved first.
He lifted me effortlessly off both of their cocks.
The sudden emptiness made me whine as cum poured out of me, hot and thick, soaking Michael’s thighs, the chair, the floor.
He set me on my feet and my legs buckled immediately.
Baron caught me from behind, arms wrapping around my waist, holding me upright.
Michael stood.
He looked between us, our faces wrecked, bodies marked, dripping with each other.
Then he reached down, scooped a thick glob of the mess from my thigh with two fingers, and brought it to my lips.
“Clean it.”
I opened without hesitation and sucked his fingers clean, tasting all three of us.
He pulled them free with a wet sound.
Baron’s arms tightened around me. I could feel his heart hammering against my back.
Michael stepped closer—close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him again.
His voice dropped, soft, almost tender.
“This—” he gestured between the three of us, the ruined room, the evidence of everything we’d done—“ends here.”
My stomach dropped and behind me, Baron stiffened.
Michael’s eyes met mine—then Baron’s—then back to mine.
“No more next time, no late-night calls. You both walk out of this room and you never speak of it again. To anyone. Not even each other.”
He let the words settle before continuing.
“If either of you breaks that vow…” His gaze hardened. “I will destroy you. And you will deserve it.”
Silence.
Then Baron’s arms loosened slowly and I felt him step back.
I couldn’t move.
Michael reached out—almost gently—brushed a damp strand of hair from my forehead.
“Go wash,” he said. “Both of you. Then leave.”
He turned away, picked up his discarded cassock from the floor and slipped it on like nothing had happened.
Like we hadn’t just come apart in his hands.
I stared at his back—broad, unyielding—as he walked toward the door that led to the sacristy.
Baron’s hand found mine and squeezed once.
We didn’t speak.
We didn’t need to.
We dressed in silence and when we finally stepped out into the corridor, the church was dark and empty.
Baron paused at the side door and turned to look at me.
I looked back.
Neither of us said goodbye.
We just… walked.
Different directions.
Into the night.
And that was it.