AN- So I don't know if I'm an idiot or was just too inspired to notice but I had to do research for his putting on his robes for mass and I had no idea that it was this whole thing. I thought to myself, "OMG! This is great!" before realizing I was looking at a Latin one. Now, I'm not stupid and I know there are many different catholic cultures but the thought never occurred to me to check. I got about half way through the ritual and realized "this boy is not Latin". So I don't know if it is the same for Roman Catholicism, but I used it anyway because I thought it was beautiful and meaningful. Obviously, I left a lot out because some of the steps aren't really used for this type of thing so he's only wearing basics because I'm not about to let our boy walk out for Sunday mass looking like he put every piece of clothing in his closet on him. I went back and compared it to pictures of Colin in "The Rite" so hopefully it's a little bit more accurate to what he's wearing in the film. Forgive any mistakes. I'm clearly not Catholic. CLEARLY. Try not to think too hard about it and you'll enjoy it.

FORBIDDEN FRUIT OF THE JUICIEST KIND

A Priest!Killian Captain Swan AU

PART SIXTEEN

Killian had to slip out early the next morning to prepare for Sunday morning mass. After today, he would have an entire week to spend with the sleeping beauty tucked away in his sheets for Thanksgiving break.

This would be his first year actually observing the American holiday. The notion of stuffing one's face with a mass amount of food to celebrate the stealing of land was absolutely foreign to him but if it meant extra time with Emma; he was all for it.

He was still livid with her for her actions yesterday, but she had already atoned for her sins. His mind went back to the events of the previous night as he watched the fall and rise of her chest as she slept.

A smirk graced his lips as he recalled her in the throes of her pleasure. The way her body moved against his— desperate and selfish from being stretched and left wanting. He replayed the sounds of her moans and sighs of contentment as she reached her peak— something she had been denied of during her punishment but basked in as a reward for her efforts.

She had taken her punishment with dignity and grace. He had expected nothing less but her complete and utter submission as he dulled out her chastisement.

He toweled himself dry from his invigorating morning shower by the bed while admiring the gentle curves of her body and her serene expression as she slept.

The steam from his shower this morning had relaxed his tense muscles and removed all the stress from the previous day. The water had washed away any trace of the sweat and the heady scent of sex that wafted over his body.

He listened to her peaceful melodic breathing, allowing the sound to relax him as he dressed for mass.

No one actually cared what he wore underneath his robe, but he still needed to dress the part. His outfit consisted of a pair of skinny-fit black slacks, a dark charcoal grey shirt with his clerical collar tucked into it, and he finished the look with a pair of black dress shoes and a belt.

Every time he put on the outfit, he was reminded of his betrayal of the position. Donning the outfit was a lie. It had become nothing more than a Halloween costume to him. That's just how little value it had now.

His gaze lifted to her as he tied his shoes when she sighed in her sleep and shifted, turning over on her side to face, exposing the swell of her breasts.

The morning light filtered in through the blinds on the window on the opposite wall, sunning the flush in her cheeks and the blonde in her curls. She was absolutely stunning bathed in the sunlight.

He pulled down his pant leg, adjusting his pants over his ankle as he stepped off the chair. He walked himself back over to her sleeping form and leaned down to swipe the hair from her face and press his lips against her forehead.

"Emma, I'm leaving for Sunday morning mass." He whispered against her face, stroking her hair lovingly.

She stirred slightly, groaning at his words. "What time is it?" She asked, groggily.

"Not time to get up yet I'm afraid. You sleep and i'll see you after mass, yeah?" He placed a kiss to her temple, watching her groan and shift in the bed. He allowed a small smile to grace his lips at her exhausted state before departing, closing the bedroom door behind him softly.

Killian drove pensively, glancing every so often at the digital clock on the center console of the car— it was barely six o'clock in the morning. He would be performing Sunday morning mass as a zombie, he had no doubt. It was mornings like these that made him regret his decision to live a double life. He imagined that this was how Bruce Wayne felt after a long night of crime fighting.

He couldn't keep carrying on the way he was. He wasn't nearly as young as he used to be. At the age of 32 he was finally beginning to show signs of maturity and the restless nights of uninhibited debauchery weren't helping.

The car rolled to a halt as he approached a red light at a four-way stop giving him a small window of opportunity to grab the bottle of Advil he kept in the glove box. With practiced speed, he retrieved the bottle and unscrewed the cap before digging out two tablets and popping them into his mouth.

He returned the cap and tossed the bottle to the empty passenger seat, keeping the pills on his tongue before reaching for the opened can of Red Bull sitting in the cup holder beside him. Pressing the beverage to his lips, he swallowed the pills in a gulp, washing it down with the caffeinated drink.

He placed the drink back into the cup holder as the light turned green. He put his foot on the gas, the car moving slowly then increasing speed as he drove through the empty roads of the town, his body buzzing from the Red Bull, hoping that the pills would ease the pain in his sore muscles.

Killian lit his morning cigarette with 7 minutes left to go in his 15-minute drive to the church. He rolled down the front driver's side window and toyed with the controls of the other windows to air out the smell of smoke filling the car.

Smoke filled his lungs upon each inhale, holding it for a beat or two before releasing it. When he had given up smoking, he didn't miss the nicotine as much as he missed the way it controlled his breathing as he smoked. It released all the tension and burden from his shoulders and calmed him down.

He drove the remainder of the way, the sounds of Depeche Mode filling the car as he watched the sun continue its assent over the town.

He pulled into the church parking lot around 6:21, parking the car in the spot with the plaque that read: Reserved for Father Jones. Grabbing his laptop bag from the floorboard of the passenger seat, he hoisted it over his shoulder and exited the car, locking it behind him.

He strode up to the doors of the main church, unlocking it with his key before stepping inside and locking it behind him. Stepping over the threshold into the empty sanctuary was like stepping into a different world— one with virtuous laws and divine order.

It was getting harder and harder to keep up the charade and the dishonesty he bore weighed down on him like an unmovable boulder. Walking into the sanctuary was a constant reminder of the lies he told himself to get through the day. He was nothing more than an imposter— a fraud and a sinner in the eyes of God.

He briefly wondered if others sensed his deceit and treachery of the Catholic church. Guilt washed over him like a tidal wave as he dragged his feet down the center aisle, heading towards the adjoining Sacristy to prepare for mass.

There were two masses every Sunday followed by two hours of confession after the second mass. The first mass is held at 8, consisting of an older crowd in attendance. It lasted until 9 and then they prepared for the second service which begun at 10. The second service had more families in attendance, most of the children members of the school.

He began his Sunday mornings like he always did— in silent prayer and reflection, knowing full well that no amount of prayer would purge his sins. As it got closer to the start of mass, he began vestment proceedings.

Killian released a long sigh before closing his eyes and blessing his fingers. "Give virtue, O Lord unto my hands that every stain may be wiped away, that I may be enabled to serve Thee without defilement of mind or body." His words left his mouth routinely, but the whites of his knuckles begged the words for meaning.

He puts on a long white robe, pushing his hands into the long sleeves. "Cleanse me, O Lord, and purify my heart that being made white in the blood of the Lamb I may have the fruition of everlasting joy." He prayed, white-hot shame pooling behind his closed lids.

He cinches the robe at his waist with a lengthy piece of white rope-like ribbon that was supposed to symbolize chastity. For the last few months, this had been the hardest part of the ritual for him to perform.

"Gird me, O Lord, with the girdle of purity and extinguish in my loins the desires of lust so that the virtue of continence and chastity may ever abide within me." The words spilled like lies from his lips as his hands trembled with resentment for his impure urges.

Lastly, he places an elegant purple and gold embroidered stole around his shoulders. "Restore to me, O Lord, the Stole of immortality which I lost by the transgression of the first parent: and although unworthy, as I draw near to Thy sacred mystery, may I be found worthy of everlasting joy." He murmured, the words becoming more difficult to leave his lips.

Killian grabbed his rosary, wrapping it around his wrist before bringing it chastely to his lips and then signed the cross over his chest.

Our Father, Who are in Heaven; hallowed be Your name; Your kingdom come; Your will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day our daily bread; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation; but deliver us from evil.

"Amen." He finished his prayer by signing the cross along his chest before leaving the chamber to begin the procession into the sanctuary.

He looked upon the faces of those in the pews as he walked down the aisle toward the alter, wondering if they say through his façade.

He got to the alter and turned to face everyone in attendance saying, "In the name of the Father, of the Son, and the Holy Spirit."

"Amen." The people replied.

Mass lasted a little over an hour on account of the upcoming Thanksgiving celebration, but it had been enjoyable for all of those who attended.

He removed himself from the sanctuary, avoiding the mingling people. He went to the Sacristy and locked himself inside. The air in the room was stifling and he felt as though he was being strangled by his robes.

Killian tore at his garments helplessly, breathing hard as he fought his way through his entrapment. Once freed, he ran to the bathroom housed within going directly to the sink. He cleansed his face with water, dampening his hair line and saturated his collar with moisture. He gripped the edge of the sink, welcoming the cold feeling of the porcelain under his fingertips. He arched his back, his breathing labored, as drops of water rolled down his skin.

He didn't know how much longer he could keep this up for.

Killian gave himself half an hour to recuperate, unbothered but apprehensive for what was still to come.

The second mass was always more popular for its later time slot and the attendees were always more present.

He conducted the beginning of mass on auto-pilot, giving himself over to the numbness that doing his job under his current circumstances provided.

Midway through the introduction of communion, his eyes met a familiar face sitting on the end of a partially empty pew about nine rows back. He stilled for a moment, the words dying in his mouth as he looked upon the object of his desire.

She was wearing a v-neck, mid-length, red floral dress that exposed just a subtle hint of her cleavage. Her blonde curls sat chastely over her shoulders, her chest rising slowly moving the cross secured around her neck as she listened attentively. Her legs were crossed properly at the ankles and her hands were placed delicately on her lap.

She was playing a part.

The part of an obedient chaste Christian girl.

Suddenly aware of his eyes on her, she smiled bashfully, tossing her head into her shoulder so that she wouldn't betray her intent.

Killian licked his dry lips, turning his attention back onto his sermon as if nothing had happened.

Her presence suddenly giving him drive and purpose to perform but it was doing equally distracting things to the rest of his body hidden beneath his robe.

For the remainder of service, anytime he would catch a glimpse of her she was the picture of obedience and purity.

But he knew better.

He felt her longing stare from across the room and basked in the way she stiffened when she had to clench her legs together because of something he had said. He marveled at the way she bit her lip when he prayed and the way her hand toyed with the cross around her neck because it was the closest thing she could do to touching herself.

Every word that left his mouth was foreplay as she imagined that mouth doing ungodly sinful things to her. His accent was thicker, his voice more passionate in prayer as it stroked the flames of her desire.

It was torture watching her try to contain herself in public and trying to resist the urge to relieve her of her pleasure was driving him damn near insane. He shifted uncomfortably where he stood, thankful for the pulpit that covered the lower half of his body. His erection was debilitating under her intense gaze, and he had to grip the edge of the pulpit to steel himself.

Somehow he had managed to conduct mass virtually unscathed— the swollen member straining against his pants underneath his robe was an entirely different story. There was no break between the end of mass and holding confession and there was already a line starting to form.

He let out an exasperated sigh at the sight and mentally cursed himself for his predicament. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the line of those wishing to confess their sins and saw a distinct head of blonde hair with a mischievous glint in her eye about fifteen people in.

He could hardly sit still in the confessional, bouncing his legs in anticipation as he impatiently listened to the sins of those in the booth next door. They were nothing compared to his own— the difference being that he acted on his impure thoughts.

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned. It has been two weeks since my last confession." A voice said from beyond the wall.

Killian palmed himself through the layers of clothing he wore in search of friction to no avail. He wasn't going to make it for another hour and a half.

"Say five Hail Mary's for penance." He gritted out softly.

"Thank you, Father."

"Go in peace."

He waited for the sound of the person in the booth next to him to exit before leaving the confines of the booth. He stumbled out of the confession to a chorus of gasps of surprise from those still waiting in line to confess. With one hand on the door knob, all eyes were on him.

Killian smiled bashfully, nearly tripping as he moved to step forward, a hand placed out to still himself. He clambered up to his full stature, a pained expression on his face.

"Oh dear." He heard one woman speak.

"I'm afraid I am feeling a little unwell." He told everyone, his voice a little uneasy. "If it is alright with everyone, I would like to continue this when I'm feeling a bit better."

There was murmuring and whispers amongst those in line, and a couple head nods before someone finally moved to speak for the group. "Of course dear." An elderly woman said.

"Yeah."

"Go on ahead."

"Poor thing."

Emma stood with her arms crossed under her chest, pushing together her breasts, as she arched a curious eyebrow in his direction.

"I will hold additional hours sometime this week for those who didn't get a chance to confess." He said as those in line began crossing in front of him to exit the sanctuary.

Some of the female members reached out for a comforting hand while others wished him well.

"I'll send over some soup for you later." One of the women offered.

"You are very kind." Killian said sheepishly, not caring for the attention of the ladies fawning over him.

Emma filed out with the rest of the congregants, passing Killian with deviant smirk.

Once the room was clear, he returned to the sacristy to disrobe, giving Emma plenty of time to sneak back in. By the time he had finished, he walked back out into the church to find Emma waiting for him in one of the pews.

"You aren't sick, are you." She looked toward him.

"What do you think?" He supplied, balancing himself with one foot resting on the pew.

"I think that lying to get out of something you don't want to do is a grievous sin, Father." She replied, her voice dripping with sexual intent.

"So is teasing a man, love." He brushed his knuckles over the barest amount of her exposed skin before tracing the silver cross resting just above her bosom. "Interesting choice of props." He canted his head to inspect it.

"It's all about the details. Why? Do you hate it?" She wondered.

"Quite the contrary actually. I happen to adore it. You look lovely." He admired.

"Don't tell me that this getup has got you all hot and bothered." She mused, gesturing to the demure little dress she wore. Emma moved her slowly to the tented piece of fabric between his thighs, her fingertips gently grazing over his erection earning a hiss from Killian. "You poor thing."

"Emma…" He warned.

"You know I never did get to confess." She scraped her nails against the bulging fabric.

"My apologies love, I had no idea how intent you were in wanting a spiritual release."

"I didn't either. But it appears I have a lot to be sorry for…" She flashed her eyes innocently.

"Are we alone?" He dropped his voice down lowly.

Emma bit her lower lip and nodded expectantly.

Killian cocked a smug eyebrow in her direction, extending his hand for her to take.

She accepted his offering, clasping her hand in his as he proceeded to help her up from her seat and dragged her through the row of pews toward the confessional. Her eyes widened in recognition

"You, darling, are in desperate need of confession." He whispered promisingly leading her inside the confessional.

Emma backed up until she felt her spine hit the back of the confessional with a soft thud, knocking her off balance as Killian crowded her with his body, his forearm braced over her head to steady himself. She trained her eyes toward the floor, refusing to look at him, a shiver running through her body at the proximity of his warm breath against her face.

Killian grasped her hips, pulling her in before dropping to his knees before her, his eyes never breaking with hers. He watched her appreciatively as his hands slipped beneath the hem of her dress, caressing her skin, his fingertips dragging up her thighs as he mapped every inch of the body hidden by the dress she wore.

He kneaded the flesh of her thighs, watching her softly pant above him the closer he got to where she needed his attention the most. He toyed with the hem of her lace panties, his fingers drawing a hot trail above her pubic bone. He splayed his fingers against the curve of her ass, groping her until her back arched from the wall and into his waiting touch.

Emma bit her lip to suppress a whine, his fingertips marking up her hot skin driving her insane with need.

Killian's exploratory fingers slipped lower, his tantalizing touch tickling the backs of her legs until they fell back on the hem of her dress. "What were you trying to prove in wearing this silly little dress?" He commented, bunching the material in his hand and dropping a hot kiss to her leg. "Were you trying to hide from me, Emma?" He teased mercilessly, pushing her dress slowly above her knees, taking time to admire every glorious inch that was exposed to him.

She sucked in a breath as his lips grazed the tops of her knees, her legs shaking as he kissed up her legs, taking special attention to the skin of her inner thighs.

He heard her gasp as he buried his nose in her wet heat, breathing heavily against her swollen clit and pulling away slowly against her protests to continue. He looked up at her adoringly, his eyes mesmerized by the flush in her cheeks and the sweat on her brow as her lip curled in frustration.

"I know every last inch of you, have your skin memorized, and I have your taste branded on my tongue, there is very little you can hide from me." He rasped out as he began working the buttons of her dress, beginning with the ones on the bottom. "So, if your goal was to tease me with this offending garment, you failed miserably." He ripped at the buttons, taking delight in her widening eyes as he undressed her.

Emma hummed pleasantly as the material barring her from view was spread open at her waist, her lower half pushed hungerly into the air awaiting his next action.

Killian's eyes glinted avidly, hooking his hands into her panties and tugging them slowly down her thighs, her sex quivering as her nakedness hit the air. He dragged the fabric down her legs until it pooled around her ankles. He allowed himself to remove the twisted lace, discarding it in the corner of the confessional.

He rubbed his palms up her legs, feeling her shiver under his touch until he reached his destination. He took a deep breath before wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking her in his waiting mouth greedily as he inhaled her scent.

"God…" Emma moaned above him, pressing herself into his mouth, reveling in the delirious pressure he was creating with his lips.

Killian dragged the flat of his tongue through her folds, bathing her in his saliva as she exploded on his taste buds. Her taste was euphoric as he continued to sample her essence, lashing his tongue unforgivingly against her clit until she was chanting his name in praise.

Her fist hit the back of the confessional as it fruitlessly searched for something to grab hold of against the onslaught of his mouth against her anxious sex. She could feel his moan of appreciation against her as she succumbed to the pleasure he was making on her hungry flesh.

He devoured her, his tongue tapping a desperate prayer as she rutted helplessly against his mouth. He reveled in the way her fingers wound themselves in his hair for purchase, her hips canting up to meet his eager ministrations.

The confessional rattled as she gripped his head with her thighs, riding his fervent mouth, the pressure building in her abdomen as he swiped his tongue furiously against her clit. She cried out as he suckled the tender flesh, her entire body stiffening then relaxing as her orgasm rippled through her.

Killian lavished her with his tongue gently, working her through her high until the tremors subsided. He retreated from her quivering sex, placing an adoring kiss to the apex of her thighs for her effort.

Her dress fell below her waist as he pulled himself to his feet before her, her gaze hazy, her expression as airy and light-headed as she currently felt. She refused to make eye contact with him, feeling his domineering leer boring into the heat of her face, newly flushed with her orgasm.

He released a growl of disapproval before placing a knuckle beneath her chin to raise her gaze toward his.

She snapped her eyes to his, blown wide with lust, his erection twitching against her thigh in agony.

His hand slipped from her chin, reaching behind her neck as his empty hand sought out her hand. His fingertips traced the soft skin of her wrist sending shivers up her spine, her eyes closing instinctually. He gripped her wrist, using the position of his hand at the top of her back to flip her around, pushing her face-first against the back of the confessional booth.

He braced a flat hand against her back, trapping her against the wall, the hand trapped at the wrist in his grasp fighting against his hold.

Her mouth stretched open in a silent moan against the wall, her free hand straining against the wall for purchase.

Killian wrapped his hand around her neck, his finger rapping against her flesh in anticipation for what was to come. He could feel her shake underneath his touch and he couldn't resist the urge to grin darkly at her reaction. "Stay," he commanded in a low whisper.

Emma released a breath as he pulled away from her, her heart beating an uneven tattoo in her chest. She heard him fumble with his belt behind her quickly followed by the sound of a zipper and the audible sound of rustling fabric as he shoved his pants below his hips.

She whined in protest as he then proceeded to capture her wrists, placing them in front of her, palms flat against the wall.

Killian appraised her artfully as if he were painting a picture and was deciding what he needed in order to complete his vision. He toed a foot between her legs, urging her to spread them and pressed a hand to her upper back to force her to lean forward to afford him better access. "That's better now, isn't it?"

Emma shuttered eagerly as he positioned her against the wall, his fingers teasing the flesh of her backside possessively, her dress raising up with the action.

He lifted her dress, bunching it around her hip and positioned himself at her entrance, the head of his cock brushing against her sopping wet cunt.

She pushed back against him impatiently, taunting him to drive his hips forward into hers.

He let out a restrained growl in response as he swept her hair off her shoulder and leaned forward to whisper in her ear, "I told you to stay. You disobeyed me." Killian pulled her by her hair, wrapping it around his hand to leverage himself as he thrusted himself inside her, feeling the head of his cock thrum with pleasure along the ridges of her pussy.

He released a sigh of contentment as she enveloped his cock, her walls pulsing around him and gripping him tightly.

His fingers gripped her hip as her own scraped the wall of the confessional for purchase. Her scalp tingled pleasantly in his erotic hold, his breath hot against the pink in her cheeks as his lips grazed her skin. She felt dizzy in his commanding grasp, her body defenseless and subject to his every whim.

Killian angled his hips, stretching her around him as he took his pleasure, his cock dragging along the silken walls of her cunt.

Emma moaned eagerly, her head dipping backward into the cradle of his neck to hold herself steady as he plunged into her repeatedly.

Sensing her body's relaxed trance against him, he tightened his grip in her hair, jerking her back with a growl as he snapped his hips into hers.

Her mouth parted in a gasp of pleasure, rocking back and forth on her toes as he held her back against him, his member gliding in and out of her. He was coming dangerously close to the spot that would send her reeling, teasing and flirting with it but taking careful precaution to avoid it altogether.

Killian chuckled with amusement, his eyes shining with mirth as he watched her struggle against him and heard the frustration in her tortured whine. He unwound his fingers against her golden tresses, trailing them down to the long column of her neck, stroking it gently with the back of his knuckles, watching in awe as she swallowed expectantly.

Her eyes shined with unshed tears, the heat in her body rising as he caressed her throat in time with his shallow thrusts.

His lips turned upward into a small smile at her expense before lowering his lips to her pulse eliciting a gasp from her in response. "You don't trust me." He noticed, his smile fading. "This only works if you trust me." He whispered, his voice slow and steady as he thumbed her clavicle.

Killian rocked her against him like an infant in his protective grasp, his cock lazily rutting against her without purpose. "I would never do anything to hurt you. Just like you wouldn't do anything to hurt me." He nuzzled her with his chin. "Let me in darling." He bid her.

Emma visibly relaxed against him, submitting herself to his ministrations without thought, giving herself over to him completely.

"That's a good girl." He praised in relief as he pressed her body against his, sliding himself deeper inside of her.

"Ahhh," she sighed, her knees buckling as he began to speed up his hips, the head of his cock dragging deliciously along the walls of her pussy.

"That's it darling. Focus on what I do to you." He encouraged, pumping himself inside of her with well-coordinated thrusts.

She squirmed against him desperately, her head canting from side to side as she attempted to control his thrusts against her.

Killian stilled her with a hand at her hip, the other coming to grasp her wrist, dragging it above her head to wrap around his neck. "Take what you need."

She blinked rapidly at his instruction, taking in his words carefully as she began to move against him in earnest.

His eyes closed of their own accord as she began to grind against him, sating her need as she filled herself to the brim with his cock. His head fell backward against her steady assault, his lips parted in rapturous moans as she fucked herself hungerly on his length.

She felt magnificent, her body hot and aggressive in its search for pleasure, her lips parted and puckered, his name falling sinfully from her mouth. She was perfection wrapped around him, her body twisting and pulling his own orgasm from him and he was far too helpless against her sumptuous nature to resist it.

He fell victim to the way her body pleaded with him for more, the way her back arched against his frame, the feel of her ass as she rubbed herself up against him on every backward thrust, and the strain in her beautiful face as she neared her orgasm.

"Are you going to come, Emma?" He questioned with a delighted raise of his eyebrow, gazing at her face contorted in pleasure. He planted kisses against her neck, his fingers coming to tickle her inner thigh to allow him access to the burning between her legs.

Emma shuttered as he spread her legs with ease, his fingers teasing the scorching heat between her thighs before stroking the lovely bundle of nerves above where they were joined. She cried against him, straining as he stroked her in time with her lazy thrusts, her breathing quickening the closer she got to release.

He rocked his hips into hers, battling for dominance as his fingers worked her over the edge. He felt her collapse against him, her body shaking violently as she rocked herself up into his fingers against her clit, her cunt shuttering around him triggering his own orgasm. He lost himself hotly into her depths with a satisfied groan, chanting her praise as he worked himself dry.

"How was that?" He breathed out heavily.

Emma smiled up at him and laughed. "I feel… I feel relief." She sighed, tilting her head back against him.

"That's the power of the confessional." He provided with a cocky smile. "It is supposed to give you release. Release from your pain. From your sorrow. From your burden."

Emma smiled whimsically at his depiction. "Does it do the same for you?" She wondered.

Killian stilled at her question before responding. "As a priest I rarely find myself on the other side of this booth." He told her honestly.

"What about before you became a priest?" She thought.

"I- I have- I haven't since before-" He stuttered before shaking the thought from his head. "We should get going." He suggested, dropping her inquiry entirely.

Emma's face fell in disappointment. His walls opening just long enough to see him for a moment or two before closing back up. She nodded her agreement and the two gathered themselves in silence before exiting the confessional.

They walked to the back of the sanctuary and paused at the door long enough for Killian to put his key in the lock and unlock the door. "After you." He allowed her to exit first. Emma walked ahead of him as her partner removed his key and closed the door behind them. Killian anxiously looked around for any stragglers before leaving the church for the day, completely unaware of the stranger lurking in the shadows nearby.

Madeline watched from a distance behind a pillar in the atrium, eyeing the nervous priest as he ushered Emma from the building. The nosy brunette had stayed behind to look for the jacket she had carelessly left behind after church. She had doubled back around to the sanctuary only to find the doors locked. Curiosity had gotten the better of her and she stuck around to find out the cause for her barred entrance to the public place.

Moments passed and the door unlocked and opened. Madeline hid herself behind a column in the main atrium and watched as Emma and Father Jones emerged, their appearance a little worse for wear. Madeline raised a curious eyebrow at the two and their less than professional comfort with one another.

Something was going on there.

Once the coast was clear, Madeline stumbled from her hiding place and entered the empty sanctuary, scanning the pews for her lost coat. She let out a huff of disapproval in not being able to find the offending article of clothing and ended her search. She took off in the direction toward the back of the sanctuary past the confessional when something halted her steps.

The confessional door was ajar.

Madeline backed herself up and stood eight feet away from the confessional, turning her neck toward the door, something awkwardly amiss calling out to her from beyond its dark depths. Refusing to back away, she moved toward it with purpose. She cautiously pried the door open and looked around.

Nothing seemed to stand out as odd to her. She stepped inside, inspecting the small box and found nothing in return. She moved to exit the confessional until she nearly slipped on something she had missed on the floor. Madeline bent forward retrieving the small object, testing the lacy material between her fingers until recognition hit her like a freight train. She dropped the incriminating object and backed herself into the wall as if she had been shocked—on the ground were a pair of lacy black panties.

Everything came together all at once in flashes resembling a movie. The coincidental appearance of both Father Jones and Emma at the same location more than an hour away, the jealousy on Emma's face at the salon, their hasty exit that day and earlier, and it was Emma…

There was no denying the evidence any longer— Emma Swan was nothing more than a Jezebel, a harlot sent to seduce and corrupt Father Jones, who at the moment needed to be saved from that whore. Madeline knew at that moment that she had to do whatever it took to get Emma away from Father Jones.

AN- Now that I have introduced the second plot-twist (if you can even call it that, I'm sure everyone saw it coming), I can now say that we are nearing the end of this story. I started this fic years ago and I'm very happy to have gotten up to this point in writing this. I also want to thank the lovely tumblr follower who made a picture set for this fic. I love when you interact with me and the fic. It is the best feeling for the writer. I have about four to five more chapters to write and publish after this one then a lengthy epilogue which will act almost as a separate story, sequel, or continuation. Thanks for sticking with me on this journey and I hope your not disappointed by the way this all unfolds.

-Cat