Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1049998.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      X-Men:_First_Class_(2011)_-_Fandom
  Relationship:
      Erik_Lehnsherr/Charles_Xavier
  Character:
      Erik_Lehnsherr, Charles_Xavier
  Additional Tags:
      Charles_You_Slut, Honestly_Charles_What_Are_You_Thinking, Poor_Erik, Erik
      Has_Feelings, Priest_Kink, Priest_Erik, Choirboy_Charles, Blow_Jobs,
      Semi-Public_Sex, Biblical_References, Blasphemy, Read_at_Your_Own_Risk,
      Cross_yourself_before_and_after_reading, Dubious_Consent, Age_Difference
  Series:
      Part 1 of Beatus_Vir
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-11-18 Words: 1520
****** Beatus Vir ******
by velvetcadence
Summary
     Erik’s descent to hell began with a whisper, a breathy, “Forgive me,
     Father, for I have sinned.”
Notes
     Dedicated especially to the horrible, horrible people who have egged
     me on over at Skype: Cat, Kage, Di, Chem, Rum and Mon.
     Now with a podfic my Ausmetallen. You can listen to it here!
See the end of the work for more notes
Erik’s descent to hell began with a whisper, a breathy, “Forgive me, Father,
for I have sinned.” Through the screen of the confessional, Erik could make out
only the color of the boy’s lips, bitten down so much in worry that it was
reddened like a wanton woman’s. He paid heed to the softly accented voice, and
the silence was a reverence in itself.
Erik only heard confession once a week since his assignment to this particular
parish, and every week hence the boy anticipated his schedule, confiding in him
the dirty leavings of his mind, whispering how no matter how hard he tried not
to touch himself, he could never resist moving against the mattress, muffling
his mouth against the pillow so that no one could hear. He confessed that there
was a man that stirred his belly and made him tremble at the mere sight of him,
that this man was a man of God, the most holy and pious of men, and the boy was
so in love with him it felt like Jesus’ agony in the garden.
The priest sweated under his cassock. The boy was looking directly at him
through the screen, the yellow light of the afternoon haloing his face and
hair. He looked impossibly young and nubile, and Erik’s veins trembled, for the
trouble of celibate souls was that it was easier to lead them to temptation.
Were it any other week, his voice would have remained steady as he instructed
the boy to pray an Our Father, three Hail Marys and one Glory Be in addition to
the Act of Contrition. It was the same formula he gave to all of his
confessors, save for those whose sins were grievous enough to warrant a whole
rosary. Erik spread the decades of his rosary throughout the whole day so that
he would always be in the middle of prayer; still, it was no protection against
the attraction Erik felt for the choirboy with the strange, red smile.
Instead, the door of the confessional creaked open, and the boy slipped in, his
robes swishing with the movement.
“You’re not allowed here,” Erik murmured, his eyes roving over the boy’s
flushed features, the points of his nipples clear through the white cloth.
“Forgive me, Father,” the boy said again, and he knelt to make himself smaller,
rounding his shoulders so that Erik had to reach out and warm his shoulder with
a comforting hand. That close, he smelled like fresh dough, and Erik imagined
that the scent was already twining through the threads of his clothes.
“What are you doing? You have to leave.”
“You say one thing and mean another, Father,” the boy murmured, “How can I
discern what’s right when you confuse me so?”
“The Lord sees and hears all sinful acts,” Erik retaliated helplessly.
“Besides, this is His house.”
“Then God be my witness.”
Erik’s mind stopped all thought as the boy leaned up to kiss him, the moist
press of his lips a point of static, and his whole body surged with fire. He
jerked backward, ready to put an end to this madness when the sight of the boy
with eyes half-lidded in desire caught him, and before he knew it, he was
leaning in to claim that lurid mouth, drinking in its sins and secrets like it
was honey and wine.
By the time he was out of breath and had to pull away, he had already become
aware that they were embracing each other with a fierce desperation . He sucked
the clean sweat of the boy’s neck and reawakened the hungers that he had kept
at bay since his decision to cleave to Christ.
“F-Father!” The boy gasped, and Erik returned to a compromised kind of
lucidity, the spell not broken but fogged with the boy’s reminder of his title.
Erik took a breath and slowly pulled away, regaining more and more of whatever
shattered sense of morality he had left.
The boy tightened his grip. “Please, Father. I don’t ask for much, only this.
Only this moment,” he pleaded, and his face was so guileless and so vulnerable
Erik was moved to pity, thumbing away the tears tracking down his cheeks. The
thumb dropped to the bow of his lips, and Erik was lost to sin once more as the
boy took it in his mouth and suckled. He hid his gaze under the sweep of his
lashes, the gentle bite of his teeth closing around Erik’s knuckle. His cheeks
hollowed, and it was less of a proposition and more of a promise as his gaze
burned into Erik’s again, bright with desire and dependent on Erik’s pleasure.
Where had this boy learned whore’s tricks?Erik wondered helplessly.
“I think about you, Father. I watch you turn the pages of the Bible and wonder
what it’s like to kiss you. I listen to the Gospel and think how badly I want
you to touch me.”
“Stop,” Erik said, holding a hand to the boy’s mouth. He hadn’t been aware he’d
been voicing his thoughts aloud until the boy was drawing him in with sweetened
words. A tongue darted out between the spaces of his fingers, and the boy
palmed him through his cassock, parting the garment to get to the slacks
underneath.
“Father, you’re…” The boy licked his lips. “I want to taste you.”
Lord, grant me strength.Erik prayed, his spirit in turmoil, but his flesh all-
too willing. The first tentative touch was electric. Erik clenched his jaw as a
fingertip traced the circumcision scar on his cock and the vein filling his
flesh with blood until he was firm enough to hold. The boy gripped him surely,
and it was quick work for that palm and those fingers to slide up the length of
his shaft, the glide made easy by the humidity of his skin and the wetness
seeping from the tip.
Each slide up was a jolt, and the air grew tainted with their heat and sweat as
the boy bent down and breathed over Erik’s desire, an adventurous hand reaching
deeper under his clothes to bare him down to the balls. Erik swallowed against
his clerical collar, wanting to reach at his nape to unbutton it, but he found
that he could neither tear his hands away from the boy’s soft hair, nor stop
him when he swallowed him deep in his mouth and gave a powerful, toe-curling
suck.
Erik surged, arching forwards as the boy continued to force a rise out of him.
It had been far too long since he’d been touched with any kind of romantic
intention. Even a sloppy blowjob from a youth unwound him. The boy choked when
his cock hit the back of his throat, and Erik eased, giving the boy just enough
time to breathe and be shocked at the spray of hot come landing on his open
mouth and cheeks. Erik took himself in hand, ready to spend himself on his own
palm, on his handkerchief, something,but the boy greedily took his aching prick
in hand and drank in the rest.
Erik watched as he grew sleepy and kittenish in his lap, perfectly content to
nuzzle his thigh and pet at Erik’s softening cock. In the heat and haze of
afterglow, it was difficult to think beyond the walls of the confessional. The
boy was especially distracting as he gathered the come from his face and sucked
it from his fingers.
“Why do you do that?”
The boy let a finger slip out of his mouth with a pop. “Onan was struck down
for wasting his seed on the ground. I wouldn’t want the Lord to be displeased
with the sight of me,” the boy grinned, cheeky, and Erik consoled himself with
the fact that he at least had learned some knowledge from the Holy Bible,
though it seemed, not the least bit of wisdom.
When the boy kissed him, Erik did not fight it, despite the cold dread that was
beginning to weigh like a stone in his stomach. How could he face his people
now without feeling shame? How could he look into the eyes of this boy’s
parents without remembering how exquisite he looked, how wanton and sinful he
had been?
“Pray for guidance, Charles,” Erik hoarsely whispered, though what he meant to
say was, I am not meant to shepherd my flock anymore.
The boy was oblivious, struck deaf by what he thought was love, and as he
stood, Erik saw that he was naked under his robes, and that he had obviously
spent himself while paying...lip service.
“I will see you next week, Father,” the boy smiled widely, giddy at his
conquest, all the fatalities and weaknesses of youth encapsulated in a handsome
face. Erik watched him go with a wistful, lost sense of self.
The priest buttoned his slacks and his robes, pausing before taking his
clerical collar off. He stared at the piece of stiff cloth for a long time.
Then he sighed and whispered particularly to no one, “No, I don’t expect you
will.”
 
End Notes
     "Beatus vir, qui timet Dominum."
     "Blessed is the man who fears the Lord."
     ~Psalm 112
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!