Chapter 1
On a stormy night, someone knocked on the church door of the deserted island.
The person knocking was a middle-aged man, his thin clothes drenched in the heavy rain, clinging to his strong muscles.
After waiting for a while, just as he was becoming impatient, the heavy church door creaked open slightly.
“Parishioner, is there something important for you to knock on the door in the middle of the night?” a man inside the door asked in a low, hoarse voice.
“This young priest, I am a nearby fisherman named Atwood Miller. I was fishing on the nearby sea when suddenly a storm broke out. I saw this church and came seeking shelter. I hope you can let me stay for the night,” the middle-aged man answered loudly, fearing that the church door would be shut.
Upon closer inspection, Atwood realized that the person who opened the door was not a priest, but a man with golden hair. He had delicate features with arched eyebrows, and slightly red lips. However, his complexion was pale. Atwood was puzzled by the presence of such a man opening the door to the church.
Before he could express his doubt, the man slowly opened the door a bit wider and said, “Parishioner, if the you don’t mind the simplicity of this humble church, please come in.”
Seeing that the rain was getting heavier, Atwood no longer hesitated and stepped over the threshold.
The man led Atwood to the gatehouse on the west side and took a bunch of keys.
Just as they were about to leave, a young priest approached them, still groggy from sleep, and asked, “Mr. White, did someone knock on the door just now?”
Mr. White nodded and said, “It was this parishioner. Thank you, Pastor Kirk, for taking him to the guest room on the west side to rest.”
Kirk glanced at Atwood, noticing his sturdy build and the clear outline of his soaked member. Kirk’s face turned flushed, and as he looked again, his gaze became filled with desire.
Atwood was also an astute person and couldn’t resist his attraction towards this handsome young priest, who had been repeatedly stealing glances at him. He felt a stirring between his legs until he heard Mr. White cough lightly and snapped back to reality.
Mr. White handed the keys to Kirk, gave him some instructions, and quickly asked him to take Atwood to the guest room.
On the way, Kirk softly inquired about Atwood’s name and background, and said, “Parishioner, you are free to move around the church. The washroom is located to the north of the courtyard. You can go anywhere except the room in the east. Feel at ease.”
Atwood responded softly, feeling somewhat puzzled, but he didn’t ask any questions.
They arrived at the door of the west guest room, where Kirk opened the door for him and said, “Please rest well, parishioner.” Although the words were spoken, Kirk didn’t want to leave. He stood at the entrance of the guest room, looking at Atwood with shyness and timidity.
Atwood understood his intentions, but said, “Thank you, young priest. You should also go rest.” However, he held the hand of the young priest and playfully teased him in his palm.
The young priest was completely captivated, and mumbled, “Parishioner…” His hand climbed up Atwood’s strong arm.
Suddenly, the young priest was pulled into the room, and the door was closed behind him.
