Work Header

You Don't Have To Be Alone Anymore

Work Text:

Bare feet tapped gently on the wooden floor of the bedroom, rushing.

The large clock on the wall above the door ticked by. 9:47. Gray eyes glanced up at it, digging through a drawer of the oak dresser against the wall besides the desk. Ribbons of all colors and sizes were strung across the floor. Red, pink, blue, gray.

Thin, nimble fingers grasped the black one, detangling it quickly before using it as a headband to keep back long pitch black hair out of her face, tying a small bow on the side.

“Carson! You’re going to be late again! You know Father Gluskin will be watching to make sure you’re on time this week!” A voice called from outside the room, gently knocking on the door.

“I’m coming!” She called back loudly, quickly running the pink brush through her hair.

He had scolded her for her… showing skin, the last time. She had accidentally put a run in her tights, and didn’t want to show up in tattered clothing. No, that would be highly disrespectful to both Father Gluskin, and the Lord.

She glanced at herself in the mirror. Knees were just barely peeking out from underneath the dress. It wasn’t good enough. White tights were pulled on, trying to balance on one foot, instead of sitting on the bed or the chair, like a normal person. She tugged on a pair of white bloomers as well. The children in town thought it was amusing to try to see how ‘her skirt got so poofy’, to reveal her petticoat beneath. She had to have special permission from Father Gluskin to be able to leave. Usually it was to get a small item from the small market down the street.

Occasionally she would bring him fresh fruit as a thank you, usually a bright green apple. He had remarked about liking the tart ones.

No jewelry, no, she didn’t want to be flashy. She slipped on black Mary Janes, brand new, she had just purchased them the other day, having been saving them for today.

It was Confession Day.

She grabbed her bible, tucking the rosary into the built in pocket of her dress. Hair ties were looped around dainty wrists.

One more glance in the mirror. The sun flooded into the light, causing the bright silver embroidered crosses at the bottom of the dress to shimmer. She quickly smoothed out her dress.


She was totally going to be late.

She slammed the door behind her, a total accident, as she ran down the corridor. Too focused on getting to the chapel in time, all ideas of putting her hair into twin braids were completely a forgotten memory now.

The large wooden doors were still open, ornate designs gently carved into it. She had been fascinated by it when she had first arrived at Mount Massive Convent.

She quickly shuffled in, sitting closer to the back.

She could feel him watching, making sure she wasn’t late. He had managed to slip her in while the chorus was singing, much to her embarrassment, he lead her up to the front, alerting everyone in the chapel that she was late.

Eyes peered up at him, he stood up in the front, nodding in approval that she had arrived in decent time. Large letters written in chalk, followed by numbers. Scriptures. Ones to read before, and after confessions.

There were several priests to confess to, she silently prayed that she wouldn’t get stuck with Father Gluskin. The age range of the others were anywhere from 18, like herself, fresh out of high school, to mid 50’s.

Whispers and conversations were soon hushed as the front row began to enter the small rooms along the side of the chapel.

She never saw Father Gluskin leave his spot at the alter though. But, he had vanished.

Carson read the scriptures on the board, twice each, before moving onto doing her rosary prayers.

She was about half way through when a hand tapped her on the shoulder, indicating it was her turn. The blue rosary was tucked into her pocket as she picked up her bible, gently walking up the carpeted center of the chapel. There weren’t many left. Only about a dozen or so.

Pale hands grasped the door, opening it up and closing it behind her. She spent most of her time indoors, she preferred to read books, or write, or attempt to draw.

“You may begin,” a voice whispered.

The hair on the back of her neck rose as she froze in place on the chair. It was Father Gluskin.

“Yes Father,” she whispered back, smoothing out the hem of her dress, a bit distracted. She had sat down wrong, the petticoat underneath was a bit uncomfortable. Thankfully the tights and bloomers prevented the fabric from leaving criss-crossed hatchings across the flesh of the back of her thighs.

She let out a sigh, a bit worried. She was always nervous around him. His bright blue eyes were always like ice, drilling into her. It always gave her anxiety.

“Father, this week I have sinned a few times. I became jealous, Alice received a beautiful barrette from her mother and father as a birthday gift. We share the same birthday, and my parents sent me nothing. I felt awful, I wanted to take it from her as she slept in the library…” She admitted, tears welling in her eyes. She knew she had done wrong.

“Did you?” He asked, a bit interested.

“No Father, I saw her resting, and removed the book from her lap instead, and placed a bookmark in it, before covering her with a blanket.”

“Good, the Lord would be proud of you,” he nodded to himself, scribbling down notes with a crayon. They were the most silent writing utensils that he had found over the years. “You said a few times, you may continue,” he added.

“Father, I grow lonely. I have dreams of my friends, from school, with their boyfriends, and I feel lonely,” she said, fingers fiddling with the rosary in her pocket.

“You have Jesus and his father, they are the only ones you need,” he scolded, shaking his head.

“I am aware Father, I dream about… things that I am ashamed of. Things you would be ashamed of, as would the Lord. I wake up… warm and lonely,” she said, her cheeks red. She felt warm, it was too hot in here. She was getting nervous.

“I see,” he said softly, writing more things down, eyebrows knit together.

That was never a good sign, he was thinking, the gears were turning. She was fully prepared to do a lot of Hail Mary’s, or do her rosary ten times over.

“I will come up with a special task for you to do, let me think about it for the day. Please meet me in my room this evening at dusk. You are forgiven,” he nodded.

She let out a loud sigh at the last three words, and he smirked at the sound of it.

“Thank you Father,” she bowed her head.

“I will see you this evening, do not be late,” he warned and she stood up.

“Yes Father, I will see you tonight. Thank you,” she nodded once more before departing.

The air of the chapel felt twenty degrees cooler than that in the small confessional, and it felt like a weight had been lifted from her chest.

She had been forgiven.




The lights hadn’t been turned off yet, it was lights off in the hallways an hour after sun was down, allowing people to talk and chat for a little bit before they go to bed, and finish their nightly prayers.

Everyone must be down in the library, or out in the courtyard, because Carson saw no one on her way towards her destination.

She assumed that his room was different than hers, the room she was in was simple. A bed, a small desk for drawing, writing, or reading, a dresser and a small closet for storing things that wouldn’t fit in the dresser, like ankle length dresses that would get wrinkled if they were balled up in a dresser drawer. She had saved up money from doing charity work, soup kitchens that give her a quarter an hour or so, even though she wasn’t supposed to collect money, but they had insisted. So she would stuff a few quarters, including tips that the community would give her for her gracious services by going around with pitchers of water, and refilling the water of people who had issues with walking, or who couldn’t get up very easily.

She gently knocked on the wooden door, answered with silence. Perhaps he was out? He wouldn’t forget her.

The large door swung open.

“Ah, you’re on time,” he smiled softly.

“I left early, so I wouldn’t be late,” she explained as he stood aside, allowing her to come into the room.

The bed was much larger than hers, then again, he was a full grown man, she was a mere teenager still. So she understood that change. There was a fireplace as well in the corner, heating the room up. The chill was soon to set in, now that the sun had gone down.

“I too, feel lonely,” he said softly, the large wooden door closing. “I believe it’s this place, I’ve been here for nearly twenty years, and have only left three times, one of which was during my heart attack,” he shook his head, approaching her. “But, that’s what Jesus is for, Carson, he’s there to protect us when we need it, to offer us advice, and lead us in the correct decision. That is what he did to you,” he smiled, as she nodded.

“I… I’m afraid I don’t understand,” she shook her head a few times, glancing up at him, his eyes reflected the light of the fire.

“He sent you to me, to cure my loneliness,” he whispered, hand tugging a loose strand of hair behind her ear as he leaned down, lips brushing against hers. “He turns his eyes away from time to time,” he assured her before pressing a gentle kiss to her lips, tasting strawberry chapstick, or was it cherry? He couldn’t tell. But he did know one thing, he wanted a bit more.

“F-father…” she whispered against his lips.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine, I promise,” he assured her, large hands wrapping around her waist, fingertips gently grazing over the cross embroidery on the belt before he picked her up, one arm around her back, the other underneath her bottom as he carried her across the room to the bed, gently setting her down. “I won’t tell anyone, if you don’t,” he promised her.

“Y-yes father,” she nodded, him sitting down besides her before quickly slipping down to his knees. Large hands gently unbuckled the strap of her Mary Jane’s, carefully sliding them off of her feet and setting them against the side of the bed, in front of the small bed side table.

“There, I don’t want anything to happen to them dear,” he said, allowing his shoes to slip off as well.

“Thank you father,” she nodded gently.

“Now, keep off the floors, I don’t want you to dirty those new tights of yours,” he whispered, standing up, pressing a kiss to her forehead. She nodded a few times before he pushed her over, pressing a rough kiss to her lips, tongue running along her lower lip, grinning softly as she whimpered, granting his tongue access. Her face was bright red, probably the brightest it’s ever been.

The man crawled onto the bed between her legs, the petticoat underneath her dress prevented him from getting as close as he truly wanted to. He wanted to be against her, flesh against flesh. No, closer than that. He wanted to be in her. But, he needed to be patient.

But patience was a thing in the past, hands grasped onto her waist, grinding against her hips. She moaned softly against his lips, eyes almost closed.

“Good girl,” he whispered, running a thumb against a red cheek. “I apologize darling, but, the petticoat has to go,” he said softly. Before she could even speak, strong hands were up the hem of her dress, grabbing the white waistband of the petticoat, tugging it down, discarding it onto the floor.

“As does the dress,” he said, shaking his head. It needed to match the petticoat, on the floor. Along with the rest of her clothes.

Lithe arms wrapped up over his shoulder as he blindly undid her waist ties, tossing the embroidered belt blindly behind him, their lips never parting. He fumbled a bit with the tiny zipper. Of course it was easy for her to do, her fingers were small and delicate, like the rest of her. He was gentle with it though, he knew how much she liked this dress. And he appreciated nice clothes, they looked good on her.

He held her as he pulled the dress up over her head, quickly making work of the white bloomers, rolling the white tights down as well, and tossing them to the floor.

He groaned softly, practically grunting as he rutted against her, black pants becoming painfully tight.

“Why do I have to be naked?” She asked, trying to shield herself from hungry eyes as he sat up.

Light pastel pink bra, with matching pink panties. How adorable.

“In due time, patience,” he chided, pressing another kiss to her forehead before shifting her closer to the center of the bed, so he had a bit more room to work with. “Now, let me see your hands,” he grinned, practically snatching them up before pulling a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket, attaching her wrists to the metal headboard.

“S-sir,” she asked, panicking a bit as she tugged her wrists a bit.

“Don’t worry, it’s temporary, I promise,” he assured her, fingers fumbling with the buttons of his jacket, struggling a few times to get them undone before practically tearing it off of him as well as the undershirt that he wore. Belt met the same fate as the rest of the clothes, joining the pile on the floor.

Carson nodded a few times, trying to calm down a bit. He wouldn’t hurt her.

Lips connected once more as he shifted between her legs again, grinding against her. He refused to take his pants off, no, he had some dignity. That would just be weird.

Her legs spread as she moaned a bit louder, she wanted to bury her face in his neck, to try to hide a bit. She felt so… exposed. Fingers reached down, dipping inside of the underwear, gently rubbing two fingers against her lips.

“A-ah…” she whimpered, looking up at him as his fingers became slick.

“So wet, you truly are lonely,” he shook his head, pulling the fingers back out, removing the panties entirely.

“Shame Carson, you know razors aren’t allowed here,” he taunted, glancing down as he found her completely hairless.

She looked away, too ashamed to speak. She knew the rules, there was no point in shaving. But, she had gone to the dollar store, and she had always wanted to know what it felt like to rub her legs together, and have them be smooth.

“I won’t tell anyone,” he grinned, reaching over and pulling a small knife from the bedside table.

“Father…” she began to panic again, seeing the blade.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to harm you,” he sighed, quickly cutting the bra from her. He had forgotten to have her remove it before he bound her hands up. The shards of the bra were discarded, and the knife was tossed away as well, the sound of it hitting the ground caused her to jump.

The priest quickly undid his button and zipper, pulling himself free, completely hard.

She whimpered softly, glancing up at him as he rubbed the tip against her soft lips.

“Oh darling,” he groaned softly, holding onto her waist with one hand, and her inner thigh with the other before forcing himself in, moaning deeply as he did so.

Thighs tried to close, eyes pinched shut.

“I-It hurts…” She cried, tears running down her face, wrists tugging at the bounds. The pain was nothing like she had ever felt before, it was stretching, pulling, forcing.

“Not for long,” he groaned softly, nails digging into her flesh as he pulled out, flesh dragging against him, groaning as her entrance tightened around him as she jolted, obviously still in discomfort. The man licked his lips as he forced his way back in, setting a steady pace.

The pain finally dulled down for Carson, pleasure overwhelming the amount of pain. Father Gluskin reached down, forcing another kiss to her lips, thrusting into her quickly and roughly now, the whole bed jerking along with their movements.

What a sight before him. Dark hair splayed out on his pillow, breasts moving in time with his thrusts. Eyes were closed, mouth hanging open as she was moaning loudly. Thankfully there were no rooms surrounding his, she was getting fairly loud, not that he truly minded.

Fingers reached down, rubbing against her clit, rubbing frantically in a clockwise motion, her body jolted every once in a while, her breathing picked up immensely.

“Carson…” he moaned, teeth grit, trying to keep down. He had an image to uphold, after all. He was literally slamming into her now. She was able to keep her legs spread, so he was able to continue with his hand, rubbing faster now. She was practically shouting.

“Y-yes! More! Please! Father!” She yelled, hands tugging at the handcuffs still. Tears of pleasure ran down her face quickly, she had never felt something as fantastic as this. Words were slurring together as she was literally shouting in ecstasy.

Yes, she was perfect. The one to keep him company, the one to button his shirt for him every morning, and help him prepare sermons for the next day. He could feel it. She would be his. And no one could take her away from him. No one would ever have to know.

He could feel himself getting closer. He had to make a decision. To cum on her, or in her. He knew he shouldn’t do it inside, he couldn’t. He would be torn apart, shamed away from the church, and Carson would meet the same fate. He couldn’t do that, not to himself. And certainly not to her. Not to his beloved angel.

He was positive it was a sign, too many lonely nights, sinning alone by himself in the shower, the tub, or besides the fireplace. God had sent him an angel to keep him company. Yes, that had to be it.

Handcuffs dug into the flesh of her wrists, leaving them red and raw. He would kiss them better, yes. He would tend to them personally. Her back arched sharply as she shouted louder.

Nails dug into skin as he bit his lower lip. Just a few more minutes, hold out. Although he would admit, it felt amazing. Much better than being by himself.

“Darling!” He shouted loudly, hand moving from her clit to her waist, pulling out not a moment too soon to release all over her abdomen.

He ran a sweaty hand through his hair, a few stray strands had fallen free. Thankfully it stayed back this time as he grabbed the key from his back pocket, undoing her hands quickly. He ran his hands over her red wrists, fingertips gently grazing over them.

“Rest my dear, you need it,” he smiled down at her, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her lips.

“Yes Father,” she said softly, her voice a bit hoarse. She couldn’t remember the last time that she had to yell or scream.

“I’ll clean you up, and tend to your wrists,” he said, getting off of the bed, fixing his pants quickly. Black socks shifted across the flooring as he vanished into the bathroom, retrieving a cloth, the same one he had used to wash his face that morning.

Carson was already half asleep, an eye peeking open as he began to wipe her down.

“Close your eyes, it’s past your bedtime,” he chided, earning a small giggle from her as she nodded.

“Will you be joining me?” she questioned, both eyes open. The priest nodded a few times before putting the cloth away and pulling the blanket from the foot of the bed. The fireplace kept the room fairly warm as it was, but he would put it out before he went to bed.

He grasped the small bottle of Holy Water from the side of the bed, gently pouring some onto his fingertips, flicking it onto the bed. He knew it would bother him until he had cleansed the area. And he would only feel worse about it in the morning. Plus, she needed to be cleansed just as badly as he did.

He sighed, leaving the pants on. He had a tendency to get cold. But he put a few extra blankets on the foot of the bed, in case if his guest got cold during the night. The man gently reached over, removing the black ribbon from her hair, not wanting to have it get tangled as she slept.

“Good night darling,” he whispered, crawling into bed under the blanket as well. She was just as beautiful asleep as she was awake. Cheeks still a light rosy pink, like the first tulips that bloomed in the spring. Long black hair still splayed out like a halo around her.

“You don’t have to be alone anymore,” he smiled, stealing a kiss from her lips before falling asleep besides her, holding onto her firmly.