The wooden pew of the choir loft dug into Izuku’s knees, his robes a tangled pool around his waist. Katsuki’s hand was a brand under the fabric, fingers slick and insistent, pressing into him to the rhythm of the hymn below. Each thrust of Katsuki’s fingers stole his breath, threatening to turn his next note into a gasp. The sacred music swelled, and Izuku’s mouth fell open on a silent cry, his body clenching around the invasion, his voice trembling on the verge of truth.
“Sing,” Katsuki’s voice was a hot breath against the shell of his ear, low and woven into the music. His other hand was a firm, unforgiving bar across Izuku’s chest, pinning him in place. “Sing for your flock, little pastor. Let them hear your devotion.”
Izuku drew a shuddering breath. The opening line of the hymn climbed the vaulted ceiling, a hundred voices strong. His own joined them, thin and shaky. “A-amazing grace…”
Katsuki’s fingers curled deep. Izuku’s voice cracked. He swallowed, wet heat pooling between his thighs, a traitorous ache that spread with every deliberate stroke. “How sweet the sound…”
“Louder,” Katsuki commanded, his hips pressing flush against Izuku’s backside. Izuku could feel the hard, thick line of him through his trousers, a relentless pressure. “They need to hear your faith. Or should I tell them why it falters?”
“I once was lost, but now am found…” Izuku forced the words out, tears blurring the hymnal pages on the stand before him. Below, the congregation was a sea of oblivious heads. His vision swam. The stretch inside him was obscene, a filthy counterpoint to the holy words.
“Was blind,” Katsuki whispered, his fingers fucking into him with a slow, torturous precision that made Izuku’s thighs shake. “But now I see.” He punctuated the last word with a twist that had Izuku biting down on a moan. “That’s it. Feel it. Your body prays so much prettier than your mouth.”
The music built toward the chorus. Izuku’s insides were coiling tight, a familiar, shameful tension winding in his gut. He was close. God, he was so close, here in the loft, with everyone below. His knuckles were white where he gripped the pew in front of him.
“Please,” Izuku choked out, the word lost in the hymn.
“Please what?” Katsuki’s teeth grazed his earlobe. “Tell me what you need. Confess it.”
“I can’t—”
“You will.” The fingers inside him stilled, a terrible, empty promise. “Or I stop. And I walk down those stairs and announce why the youth pastor’s voice failed during the offertory.”
A sob hitched in Izuku’s throat. The organ swelled, drowning it. “D-don’t stop,” he gasped, the confession torn from him. “Please… don’t stop.”
Katsuki’s low laugh vibrated through him. “Good boy.” His hand moved again, ruthless and knowing, and on the next crashing chord from the organ below, Izuku fell apart.
The release tore through Izuku with a violence that left him gaping, a silent scream etched into his face. A hot, wet rush flooded between his thighs, soaking his robes and the wooden pew beneath him, the sound a quiet, obscene patter against the hymn’s final chord.
“There it is,” Katsuki murmured into his sweat-damp hair, his fingers still working inside him, milking the last pulses. “Your honest little cunt. Baptizing the pews.”
Izuku’s entire body went limp, held up only by Katsuki’s iron bar of an arm across his chest. Shudders wracked him, aftershocks of pleasure and utter degradation. Below, the congregation’s “Amen” rumbled like distant thunder.
Katsuki slowly withdrew his hand. He brought his glistening fingers to Izuku’s lips. “Clean it.”
Izuku turned his face away, eyes squeezed shut. A tear tracked through his freckles.
“Now,” Katsuki said, his voice devoid of all mock gentleness. “Or I call the altar boys up here to see what you’ve done.”
A broken sound escaped Izuku. He opened his mouth, and Katsuki pushed two fingers inside. The taste was salt and musk and his own betrayal. He gagged softly but sucked, his tongue moving over the calloused pads until they were clean.
“Good.” Katsuki wiped his hand on Izuku’s discarded robe. He didn’t step back. The hard, insistent line of his erection pressed into the small of Izuku’s back. “You’re getting wetter every time. Your body knows its purpose.”
“It’s not—” Izuku started, his voice a raw scrape.
“It’s not what? A sin?” Katsuki’s laugh was a low, dark thing. He palmed Izuku through the soaked fabric, making him jump. “This is the holiest you’ve ever been. Finally truthful.”
Footsteps echoed on the main floor below, people milling after the service. Izuku froze. “They’ll… they’ll hear.”
“Let them.” Katsuki’s hand slid around his hip, dipping beneath the waistband of his underwear. His fingers found the slick, swollen heat, circling Izuku’s clit with a cruel precision. “Let them hear you forget how to breathe.”
Izuku’s head fell forward against the pew in front of him. A gasp was torn from him, high and desperate. He was still sensitive, overstimulated, but his hips jerked against Katsuki’s hand of their own volition.
“See?” Katsuki’s breath was hot on his neck. “You want another. You’re greedy for it. My greedy little thing.”
“Stop,” Izuku whispered, even as he ground down onto Katsuki’s fingers.
“You don’t mean that.” Katsuki nipped at his shoulder. “You mean ‘more’. Say it.”
From below, a woman’s voice called, “Pastor Midoriya? Are you up there?”
Izuku went rigid. Panic cleared the pleasure from his eyes. “It’s Mrs. Yaoyorozu,” he hissed.
Katsuki didn’t remove his hand. He pressed deeper, a slow, claiming invasion. “Answer her.”
“I—I’m here!” Izuku called out, his voice strangled. He cleared his throat. “Just… tidying the hymnals!”
“Oh, wonderful! Don’t work too hard!” The footsteps began to recede.
Katsuki chuckled, the vibration thrumming through Izuku’s spine. “Such a good liar. Now…” He shifted, the sound of his belt buckle clinking in the dusty quiet. “Where were we?”
The thick, hot head of his cock pressed against Izuku’s soaked entrance. Not pushing. Just resting there, a monstrous promise. Izuku’s breath hitched. He was stretched open from Katsuki’s fingers, aching and empty, and the feel of him there made his stomach clench with want.
“Please,” Izuku breathed, the word a shameful prayer.
“Please what?”
“Don’t make me say it.”
“I’ll make you do anything I want,” Katsuki growled, and he pushed in, just an inch, a brutal, burning stretch that stole the air from Izuku’s lungs. “Now ask for it. Properly.”
Izuku sobbed, his hands scrambling against the smooth oak. The church was quiet now, the danger of discovery a live wire in his chest. “F-fuck me,” he whispered, the profanity sacrilege in this air. “Please, Father… fuck me.”
“Amen,” Katsuki said, and he sheathed himself inside in one relentless thrust. “Such a beautiful pussy,” Katsuki growled into his ear, his hips flush against Izuku’s ass, buried to the hilt. “Taking every inch of your priest. It’s a fucking sacrament.”
Izuku choked, his fingers curling against the pew. The stretch was immense, a burning fullness that stole his breath. He felt speared, claimed, the thick intrusion rearranging him from the inside.
“You feel that?” Katsuki pulled back slowly, the drag agonizing and exquisite, before slamming home again. The wet sound was obscenely loud in the hollow loft. “That’s your absolution. Right here.”
“It’s too much,” Izuku gasped, his forehead slick against the wood.
“It’s exactly what you need.” Katsuki set a brutal, deep rhythm, each thrust jolting Izuku forward. “Your greedy cunt is sucking me in. Begging for it. Listen.”
He paused, pulling out almost completely. The air felt cold on Izuku’s wet, exposed flesh. Below, the faint murmur of the last parishioners echoed.
“Please,” Izuku sobbed, pushing back against the empty air. “Don’t stop.”
“What was that?” Katsuki teased the head of his cock against Izuku’s swollen entrance, circling but not entering.
“Please, Father! Fuck me. I need it.” The words were torn from him, a raw confession. “I need you.”
Katsuki drove into him again, a reward and a punishment. “Good boy. Now sing for me.”
“What?”
“You’re in the choir loft. Sing.” Katsuki’s pace became punishing, his grip bruising on Izuku’s hips. “Sing a hymn, or I’ll make sure the whole congregation hears you scream instead.”
Izuku’s voice broke on the first note, a trembling, ragged line of a psalm. “The Lord is my sh-shepherd…”
“Louder.” Katsuki snapped his hips, hitting a spot deep inside that made Izuku’s vision white out. The note shattered into a sharp cry.
“I shall not w-want,” Izuku forced out, the words punctuated by each thrust. Tears streamed down his face. “He makes me lie down in green… pastures…”
Katsuki leaned over him, his chest hot against Izuku’s back. “He leadeth me beside the still waters,” he recited against Izuku’s skin, his voice a dark parody of comfort. “He restoreth my soul.” His hand slid around Izuku’s front, fingers finding his clit, rubbing tight, frantic circles. “Is your soul restored, Izuku?”
Izuku couldn’t answer. The dual assault was too much. His body was a live wire, pleasure coiling tight and desperate in his gut. His singing dissolved into gasps, his hips rocking back onto Katsuki’s cock and forward into his hand.
“You’re close,” Katsuki snarled, his own breath becoming ragged. “Come for me. Come all over my hand while I’m inside you. Let this be your offering.”
Izuku’s body went taut, a bowstring pulled to snapping. A ragged, broken sound tore from his throat as the pleasure detonated, a white-hot shockwave that obliterated thought. He came with a violent shudder, his cunt clenching rhythmically around Katsuki’s thrusting cock, and then he felt it—a hot, sudden gush that wasn’t just arousal. It spurted from him, soaking Katsuki’s hand and dripping down his own thighs, a second, humiliating release that left him trembling and weak.
“Fuck,” Katsuki groaned, his hips stuttering. The feel of Izuku pulsing and spurting around him tipped him over the edge. He buried himself deep and came with a low, guttural snarl, his own release flooding Izuku’s spent body.
For a long moment, the only sounds were their ragged breaths and the distant, hollow echo of a closing door below. Katsuki slid out of him with a wet, obscene sound. He looked at his hand, glistening with both their releases, then at Izuku’s ruined, trembling form slumped over the pew.
“Clean it,” Katsuki said, his voice rough but composed. He presented his fingers, then his softening cock. “Every drop. Your mess, your penance.”
Izuku’s shoulders hitched. He turned, his movements slow and drained, and took Katsuki’s fingers into his mouth without meeting his eyes. The taste was bitter-salt, a map of their sin. He licked them clean, then, with a shuddering breath, bent his head lower.
Katsuki watched him, his red eyes glowing faintly in the dusty light. His hand came to rest on Izuku’s curly hair, not a caress, but a claim. “Tomorrow,” he said, as Izuku worked. “Your shift in the confessional booth. You’ll be with me.”
Izuku pulled back, his lips slick, a thread of saliva breaking. “For… for confession?”
“For warmth.” Katsuki’s thumb stroked the hinge of his jaw. “You’ll kneel between my legs. Your mouth will stay on me the entire time. Silent. Still. A living, breathing sin tucked away in the dark.”
Izuku’s green eyes widened. “Someone will hear,” he whispered, the protest weak, already defeated.
“Let them hear the silence,” Katsuki said, his smile a sharp, cruel thing. “Let them pour their petty sins through the grate, never knowing the real corruption is right here, swallowing their priest’s cock.” He tucked himself away, fastening his trousers with deliberate calm. “Wear your robes. Nothing else. No binder. I want to feel you.”
He stood, looming over Izuku’s kneeling form. The demonic light in his eyes flickered, for just a second, revealing something darker, hungrier than mere cruelty. “Now get up. Compose yourself. The house of God awaits its faithful servant.”
Izuku pushed himself up on shaking limbs, his robes falling in a disheveled heap around him. He felt hollowed out, scraped raw, the phantom ache of fullness and the cool air on his wet skin a constant testimony. He couldn’t look at the stained glass, at the hymnals. He just stared at the dust on the floorboards where he’d knelt.
Katsuki’s footsteps faded down the loft stairs. Alone, Izuku’s hand drifted to his own throat, his fingers pressing against the frantic beat there. A silent, screaming prayer. For what, he didn’t even know anymore.