Peter's hands dip into the fountain of holy water, wetting his face in it. His body was trembling, his lips murmuring memorized Latin prayers under his breath. He squeezes his eyes closed, trying to get the memory of her out of his mind, but she haunts him. He can still feel her fingers against his arm, the way it burned him even through his clothes.

"I am a strong man, I am a man of faith I will not be tempted by flesh," he mutters to himself, his hands gripping the fountain tighter. He exhales shakily before opening his eyes. The church is dim, just a few low candles left. He should put them out and head to bed...but her touch still burns him. It feels like it's sinking into his flesh and bones, coursing through his veins.

He squeezes his eyes shut again, thinking of his vows of faith, his promises to God, his promises to his parish. Her eyes flash in his mind again, her lips, the way they moved when she spoke, the way her voice wrapped around him like a siren's call. His hand moved to his aching cock, straining against his pants. A whimper slipped from his lips as he tried to push it down.

"I am a man of faith," he whispers again, his voice wavering. She had come in a few nights ago, a wolf in sheep's clothing, and he was a shepherd. She had pretended to be a new parishioner, interested in joining the church, and he was kind to her, he welcomed her in with open arms. It took one meeting alone for her to reveal her true self. Her words were soft and sweet, her eyes bright, but she was a temptress. A succubus. No mere mortal woman could tempt a man of faith like him.

He stumbles towards the altar, falling to his knees in front of it. A sob escapes his lips as he clutches his hands together in prayer. "Please, Lord, guide me, give me strength, I cannot do this alone," he cries, keeping his eyes up on the cross, praying for an answer, for something. Thunder claps in the sky, lighting flashing through the stain glass windows.

And then a soft knock at the thick wooden door. He stares at it, his lips parting in surprise. Is this the sign? He wipes at his face and briskly walks towards the doors, pulling them open. You. She's soaked to the bone, shivering. A missing purse, she explains, he nods numbly and lets her in. His eyes flick to the cross. "Why do you test me still?" He whispers to himself under his breath.

She looks around for her purse, bending over into pews, tempting him further. His hand pushes down his straining cock again, biting his lip until the familiar metallic burns his tongue. He moves closer to her, helping her look for her purse so she leaves faster—but that beautiful scent of hers leaves his head swimming.

"You," his voice rougher than he intended. He moved closer, forcing her back to hit the wall as he looms over her. "Tell me what you are...a succubus? A demon? Witch? Tell me how you're doing this?" He hisses, gesturing down to his tented pants.