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My Corner of Paradise

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There was a low hum overhead as the buzzing lights that illuminated the sheriff’s station flickered. Thunder rolled in the distance as the wind began to pick up. There was a storm coming. At least, that’s what the fishermen of Crockett Island had been talking about the last few days.

Sheriff Hassan was on duty, watching the day drag on with nothing going on. No calls. Nothing to check on. Even Joe must have been back on the wagon.

For a quick moment, the sheriff clicked on his personal emails and scrolled down. Newsletters, coupons for discounts from the mainland and the sprinkling of spam emails. Everything from penis enlargement pills to “singles in your area” messages addressed to him.


“These are getting ridiculous,” he sighed.


Going through his inbox to delete messages, he couldn’t help but notice some notification emails from Grindr and Tinder. As someone who wasn’t openly bisexual, his foray into dating had taken some weird and uncomfortable turns. Ever since he had lost his wife, he had been lonely and confused. It shocked him to discover that he also liked men.

Now he was on Crockett Island. Not a great place for meeting romantic partners, let alone men. He lingered over the emails.

A man named Todd sent a very explicit email that included exactly where he wanted to put his dick. Scrolling down, there were plenty more for him to read. Vivid descriptions of how they wanted to touch his caramel skin, to fuck him senseless, to suck him off so hard that…

“Sheriff?”

He slammed the laptop lid down so hard, he swore he heard it crack.

Father Paul was peeking outside his office door, his expression bright and smiling. Sheriff Hassan steadied himself, and tried to hide his growing erection underneath his desk.

“Oh, you scared me, Father.”

“I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I can come back at a better time...?”

“Oh it’s no problem, Father. Please, come in.”

Sheriff Hassan watched curiously as the priest’s gaze flicked around at his office. He realized that the priest hadn’t visited his office before. Not many of the townsfolk had. They had called him or stopped him on the street with complaints.

If it wouldn’t have been for the white collar that flashed across his neck, the catholic priest would have just looked like a member of the town visiting. He was dressed down, jeans that hugged his frame and a black shirt.

“This is my little corner of paradise,” Hassan said, a slight chuckle in his voice.

“Ah,” Father Paul said with a smile as he cautiously entered. “Aren’t we all searching for our own?”

“Well it’s rather hard to find a spare inch not used in this town,” the sheriff answered. “Especially for a newcomer like myself. You understand, Father.”

“I must confess I have rather large shoes to fill,” Father Paul replied, locking eyes with the sheriff for a moment. There was a flicker of something, sadness maybe, pass his eyes.

There was a slight uncomfortable pause as the two men hung in the silence. Sheriff Hassan was about to say something when the priest seemed to break from his thoughts.

“Ah yes, I don’t mean to intrude but I wanted to see if you knew about the storm coming. It’ll be here in a few hours, I believe.”

“I did hear about that. Something about being a seasonal event?”

The priest nodded, rocking back on his feet.

“Yes I was told it’s something very common on the island. I didn’t know if you knew that there is room at the church if you’d like to take shelter there,” Father Paul continued.

His voice was soft and the sheriff couldn’t stop but linger on them as the man spoke.

“That’s very kind of you,” Sheriff Hassan replied. “I think I’d like to stay here in case of an emergency. The store has a cellar as well I was told that I can take shelter in if the storm becomes too much.”

“Understandable,” the man of the cloth said with a nod.

“And I’m sure not everyone here would be comfortable with a man like me being inside St. Patrick’s.”

Father Paul looked incredibly sad, his eyes almost tearing at Sheriff Hassan's words.

“There are people here at Crockett Island who do not see fully how their behavior does not reflect Christ’s loving nature.”

Hassan felt...seen in Father Paul’s eyes. There was this depth of warmth and understanding that he had not felt in a long time.

“You and your son are always welcome. Whether or not you worship with us,” Father Paul said.

“I really appreciate it Father. I...haven’t had such a good experience with religious folk in the past, if I’m being honest.”

Again, the sadness filled Father Paul’s expression. For someone so youthful with dark features that were, if Sheriff Hasasn was being honest, stunning, the weight of these ways of the world seemed to devastate him.

“May I?” Father Paul was pointing to the empty chair in front of the sheriff’s desk.

“Yes, please.”

The taller man sat, with the sheriff catching a slight glimpse of the way the man’s jeans tightly fit around the front of his belt. The sheriff’s dick throbbed uncomfortably. He felt himself remembering his horny schoolboys ways. Think of Grandma, think of something else and not the way the man’s lips looked as he spoke, what he could do with them…

“Spirituality has become such this guarded thing that has excluded so many people...”

And he was back.

Sheriff’s devotion to his God was something that he didn’t take lightly. He found himself snapping right back into the discussion.

Before they knew it, fifteen minutes had gone by.

“Oh my, I seem to have lost track of time,” the priest said, chuckling. “There were a few houses I wanted to visit before the storm touches down. Thank you for allowing me a moment to reflect. I’d love to talk with you more about this sometime.”

Like the masochist he was and before he knew he was doing it, Sheriff Hassan felt himself nodding.

“Wonderful. Perhaps another slow evening like this one?”

Good God, man, what will become of you...

“Sounds like a plan, Father.”

Father Paul smiled his boyish glow evident. He touched the other man’s shoulder briefly as he spoke about his excitement to see him again and took off.

The touch sent shivers down the officer’s body. As his office door swung closed, he leaned back against his chair. A fucking priest. He was lusting over a goddamned Catholic priest.

“Fuck.”

 


 

The storm came on fast.

Sheriff Hassan spent the worst of the storm in the station, but it wasn’t the worst he’d experienced since moving to the island. He had called to video chat with Ali to check in and made sure the lights were staying on. A backup generator was working fine on the island but he still worried.

Of course Ali was fine, he usually was. He was such a good son, although his faith was on rocky ground.

Several hours later by the morning light, the storm had passed. At some point in the night, he had fallen asleep at his desk. By the light of the morning, he left his office, checking to see what the damage was to the town. Surprisingly, it was mostly downed limbs and some overturned boats. He figured he had time to go home and get some sleep before being called on the next morning.

Walking through the door to his home, he checked on his sleeping son before stepping into the shower to wash off the day.

As the water ran, he let himself replay the conversation he’d had with the priest. He had never seen the man up close before, seen just how, frankly hot, the man was. Multiply that with the kindness, his attention and well, his own loneliness. He was hard as a rock.

His mind flashed to the curvature and color of Father’s Paul’s lips. He couldn’t help but imagine those lips stretched on Hassan’s dick. Those lips that spoke words of God now committing the most carnal of sins. Finding their warmth within his most beautiful mouth.

His mind painted the scene.

 

He arrived to confess his feelings for the man, he wanted forgiveness, for the man to take these temptations away from him. The priest was taking confessions so he slid into the other side booth as to not draw too much attention.
Before the priest could speak, Hassan spoke the confession aloud. The words felt sticky and hot in his throat but he spoke them out loud, releasing them. Their filthiness. For forgiveness and his own sanity.

There was a pause.

Then the privacy screen slid open. The father’s eyes were dark, mouth drew in a straight line.

“Unbuckle your belt, Sheriff.”

“P-pardon?”

“You come to me seeking forgiveness for your sin? Humble yourself before me and before God.”

Sheriff Hassan swore under his breath as he pulled down his jeans. His aching member strained against the cotton fabric of his boxers.

“Watch your language and lay yourself bare, Sheriff.”

The cold shock of his words hung in the air for a moment as the officer’s dick leaked, staining the front of his boxers.

“P-pardon?”

“If you’ll allow me, Sheriff?” Father Paul said, his hands coming through the screen.

The lawman nodded so hard, he thought his neck would break, and sighed as the priest gently traced the man’s dick through his underwear.

“Men’s desires are routed so intensely upon an organ of God’s own creation...”

Father Paul slowly, carefully, rolled the man’s underwear down, letting the fabric of the underwear catch his dick softly, causing it to leap forward. There was a slight glint in the man’s eyes as he opened his perfect mouth, capturing the manhood deep inside.

 

In the shower, Hassan stroked his dick over and over. He whimpered. This was wrong, so very wrong but right now, that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the feeling of his hand around his dick as he could feel Father Paul blowing him. The vivid thoughts were coming fast and strong and fuck, they were so much better than reality. He wrapped his hand around his dick tighter and held on for the ride.

 

Father Paul egged him on through the confessional, running his tongue down the sides of his shaft. Hassan moaned, hands grasping at the top of the confessional as the priest’s tongue thrummed against his cock over and over again.

“Oh Father...”

“So beautiful,” the priest purred, as he popped off the man’s dick for a moment. “Truly a testament to the beauty of our Lord.”

“P-please, more, Father. I need more.”

The priest sighed, engulfing the man’s dick entirely into his mouth.

 

Hassan moaned, cumming hard and fast into his hand as he braced against the shower wall. His muscles threatened to give out as pleasure curled from his toes. He groaned, stifling the sounds to try and prevent himself from being too loud.

Waves of pleasure clouded his head as he braced himself in the cloudy haze of the shower.

The water curled around his shoulders, through his hands and dick, washing the sticky white evidence of his debauchery down the drain. After a few moments, he felt himself begin to feel back in control.

A priest. A priest for fuck’s sake.

Fuck.

 

-END-