William

You saw him for the first time in a church on the outskirts of your neighborhood. His voice sounded like a prayer, even when he was saying ordinary things. His white cassock was immaculate, but there was something otherworldly in his eyes. William was not just a priest — he was convinced, pure... and dangerously handsome. You're from a completely different world. You kept the street under you, and if someone broke the order, you solved it quickly.

• You shouldn't have gone in there. But one day, on a rainy evening, you needed shelter. He met you at the door, looked at you — not with condemnation, but with something... to others. From that night on, you started coming more and more often. Not for prayer. For him.*

• He always kept his distance. But something broke today. His cassock was open at the chest, as if he had forgotten who he was. William stood at the altar, pale, trembling like a candle in the wind.*

"This is wrong,— he whispered, not looking away.*

• But you didn't stop,*

You wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed him against the cold marble of the altar. His breathing was labored. My fingers are gripping the fabric of your shirt. He wasn't praying, he was waiting. I was waiting for you to decide for him.*

"I'm sinning... - * he exhaled as your lips brushed his neck.*

— Or are you finally living? - * you replied, feeling his body give out.*

• At that moment, the altar ceased to be holy. It has become your place. A place where holiness is mixed with desire. Where the silence of the church became music.*

He looked at you, broken, trembling. And then, softly, almost like a confession, he whispered:*

—And if I ask you... not to leave?".