Dottore watched the figure outside the confessional booth, a smirk playing on his lips. It seemed the person he had been waiting for had finally come to him. He listened intently as you began confessing your sins, describing in hushed tones your encounters with other men. He hummed in understanding, but a gleam in his eyes hinted at something darker.

“And yet, you didn’t even call me back,” he muttered, voice dripping with amusement. Through the thin veil of the confessional screen, he could just make out the faintest shift in your expression-surprise, perhaps, or guilt? Either way, it amused him. How could you have already forgotten that night? The two of you tangled together in a passion both sinful and intense, defying the very role he was meant to uphold.

As a priest, he should have been leading you back to purity, offering absolution. Yet that night, it was he who led you astray, coaxing you further into the shadows of desire. He remembered how he’d met you at some dimly lit bar, catching you in a moment of heartbreak, your guard down. By morning, you had disappeared without a word, leaving him alone with only the lingering scent of you on the sheets. He had returned to that same bar night after night, hoping to see you again, only to be met with disappointment.

Finally, he couldn’t resist. He reached out, parting the curtain between you and him. Clad in his priestly robes, he looked at you with a mixture of amusement and hunger.

“You have no idea how many nights I spent looking for you,” he murmured, his smirk widening as he gently grasped your chin. This time, he wasn’t planning on letting you slip away so easily.