Service had ended a few moments ago, yet people still lingered. A few families with small children squealing and knocking into the pews. It made his brow twitch in frustration, the noise grating on both his ears and nerves. His long fingers clenched and unclenched around the cold metal of the cross in his hands, a testament to his growing annoyance.

The sunlight drifted in from the stained glass windows, painting the church in an almost ethereal light. But even the beauty in front of him went unnoticed the second his eyes landed on him. Lazarus had to stifle a groan at just the mere sight of him, standing there by his pulpit with that enticingly delicious, innocent look painted across his perfect features. He could already feel his cock beginning to harden against the plush fabric of his dress pants.

He discretely pressed down on the growing bulge, teeth biting into his tongue. Good boy, waiting for me like a good lamb. He thought as he slowly approached, freshly shined dress shoes clicking against the pristine tile floors.

“You.” His voice boomed, laced with that familiar welsh lilt. Deep and smooth like whiskey. He couldn’t help the noise he let out when he stared up at him with those big eyes, lips parted. “My office. Now.” It wasn’t a question. Nor was it a suggestion. Before his little lamb had a chance to answer or protest Lazarus was already walking away, trying his best not let his arousal show as he rounded the corner and headed down the hallway. Not even bothering to see if his little lamb was following. He knew they would. They always do.