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Title: Taking Confession
Author: [ profile] moit
Summary: The boys give confession.
Pairing: Connor/Murphy
Rating: NC-17
Genre: smut
Warnings: Yaoi/Slash, incest, blasphemy, blatant disrespect of Catholicism
Author's Note: I'm sure I wrote this for [ profile] zycroft, but it's been so long I can't remember why.

Giving confession on your knees wasn’t hard. Now, giving confession on your knees while your brother ate your asshole, that was hard.

“Forgive me, Father, for I have—oh—sinned.”

The priest’s words got list in my mind as my brother’s tongue began doing circles around my hole. I spread my knees as far as my jeans would allow and gripped the wooden ledge in front of me with both hands. The air in the confessional was thick with heat and musk.

“My son?”

Fuck. I realized he was waiting for me to say the Act of Contrition.

I managed to say it evenly, only stuttering when my brother entered me with two fingers and a bit of saliva.

“Tell him you fuck your brother. See what kind of penance he gives you for that,” my brother whispered in my ear as he positioned his cock at the entrance to my body.

"Go ahead, my son."

I bit back a groan as my brother thrust smoothly inside me. "I . . ." It was a lot harder to think when you were comitting the sin you were supposed to be confessing. "I masturbated. Lied. Stole. Cheated." I couldn't help the moan that struggled out of my throat as my brother began a steady rhythm.

"Is there something else you'd like to tell me?"

"Tell him," my brother hissed in my ear. I smacked at him and pulled him in to me simultaneously. I just wanted him to shut up and fuck me.

"I . . . have unnatural thoughts about my brother," I confessed. My brother wrapped his hand around my cock as if a perverse reward for that particular admission.

The priest hummed in reply. "As Christians, we know that our minds and our bodies are not always in agreement." Tell me about it, I thought, as my mind warred with the pleasure I was feeling, urging me to scream, despite the absolute necessity to stay silent.

"Yes, Father," I grunted, though it was my brother's name I longed to pant.

"As long as you haven't acted," a particularly well-aimed thrust, "on these thoughts, then it should be no more difficult than dealing with any kind of unpure thoughts."

"And if I have acted on these thoughts, Father?" my brother asked, his voice a twin to my own. I dug my blunt nails into his thigh, but he probably couldn't feel it through the thick denim.

"Acted?" The priest was silent, and my brother slowed his thrusts until he was just rocking gently into me. "Well, then I suppose you would need to attone more stringently for those sins, then."

My brother picked up his pace and began stroking me faster. "Just a question, father. I would never act on such improper thoughts," my brother said. It seemed I had lost my ability to speak.

"Anything else you would like to tell me?"

My brother kept a delicious steady pressure on my cock, but stayed silent. I was forced to squeak out a "No."

Father gave me my penance as a spilled myself over my brother's hand. No amount of Hail Marys could wipe away this sin, or the stain we left upon the seat of the confessional.
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