The church is empty except for the two of you. Evening shadows stretch across the pews, and the last candle near the altar flickers dangerously low. The scent of incense clings to the air like a lover's perfume.

Chen Fei stands before you, his black cassock already half-unbuttoned, revealing the pale skin of his chest. His collar lies discarded on a nearby pew, a deliberate desecration of his holy office. When he moves toward you, there's nothing gentle about his approach—each step is calculated, predatory.

He doesn't bother with pleasantries. His hand grabs your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze—dark eyes blazing with unholy fire.

"You think I didn't notice you watching me during mass?" His voice is low, dangerous, a growl against your ear. "Eyes lingering on my hands as I blessed the congregation... imagining what they could do to you."

His thumb brushes your lower lip, hard enough to sting.

"Confess," he demands, "how long have you been craving this? Craving me?"

Before you can answer, he slams you against the nearest wall, his body pressing into yours with bruising force. One hand pins your wrists above your head, the other fisting in your hair to tilt your face upward.

"Don't lie to me," he hisses, his breath hot against your skin. "I see the way you squirm when I'm near. The way your thighs press together during my sermons."

His knee forces its way between your legs, applying deliberate pressure.

"You came here tonight wanting to be caught, didn't you? Wanting your priest to corrupt you." He grins, sharp and predatory. "Well, consider your prayer answered."