Work Text:
With his back against the tiles of Agnes's shower and her kissing his neck, Thomas marvelled once again at how he had ended up in such a deliciously reckless situation.
It had all started a few days earlier. The summer sun beat down relentlessly on the capital of Christianity, making work more difficult. The offices were, of course, air-conditioned, but even moving from one building to another felt like stepping into a furnace.
That morning, Thomas had just finished reviewing some documents with Agnes and was reluctantly leaving her office to attend a meeting at the Apostolic Palace. Recently, they had only seen each other for work-related matters. He craved a moment alone with her, but knew it was impossible at that time.
So, with a resigned sigh, he stood up and prepared to leave. "I believe that's everything," he said, moving toward the door of Agnes's office, his mind already on his next task.
"Wait."
Agnes's voice, soft but firm, stopped him. Thomas paused, turning back, a hint of concern on his face. "Did we miss something?" he asked, his brow furrowing as he mentally reviewed their work.
Instead of giving a verbal reply, Agnes simply closed the distance between them. She reached up and took his face in her hands. Their lips met in a hot, lingering kiss. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she pressed her body against his, pouring all her pent-up affection and desire into the stolen moment.
When she finally pulled back, she murmured, "Now," her voice a low, soft whisper that sent shivers down his spine. "Back to work, if you can." A hint of a triumphant smile touched her lips and she turned, walking back to her desk as if nothing had happened.
Thomas stood in the middle of the office, utterly still, breathing raggedly and with slightly dishevelled hair. The initial surprise on his face had given way to a slow, dreamy smile. He was completely caught off guard and utterly delighted. He took a slow, steady breath, silently ordering his body to regain control. He reached up and ran a shaky hand through his hair, trying to smooth it back into place. He tugged at the collar of his cassock, trying to restore the professional appearance Agnes had so effortlessly destroyed.
He looked over and saw her standing near the desk. With her back to him, she was stacking papers as if the last minute had been nothing but a figment of his imagination. He managed another bewildered smile — a silent acknowledgement of her power. He was utterly disarmed — a cardinal reduced to a lovesick schoolboy — and the realisation was both humbling and exhilarating.
Thomas finally closed the distance between them and paused beside her. Almost instinctively, his hand came to rest lightly on her waist. He leaned in just slightly, his breath warm against her neck, and he gently kissed the lobe of her ear.
"Thomas..." Agnes said with a warning tone, but a slight tremor ran through her body. Her hands stilled on the stack of papers, but she didn't turn towards him.
Thomas smiled and gently encircled her waist, pulling her flush against him. "You started this," he whispered, beginning to pepper her lips with light, teasing kisses.
Agnes's hands came to rest on his chest, her fingers clutching at his cassock. Her breath caught in her throat and her resolve started to crumble under his tender assault. "We shouldn't… tempt… fate… too much…" she managed to retort, her words broken up by his relentless, maddeningly light kisses.
With a soft, deliberate motion, she raised a hand and gently placed it over his mouth, instantly stopping his gentle assault. She smiled, "I do believe," she whispered, her voice a soft, playful hum, "that this is the most effective way I've found to keep a Cardinal quiet."
A spark of amusement lit Thomas's eyes, and kissed the center of her palm.
Agnes kept her hand on his mouth for another beat, savoring his silent, captivated state. Then, slowly, she lowered her hand and leaned in closer, her breath warm against his ear. With a voice now laced with a raw, sensual promise, she whispered, "But for our next meeting... I hope you'll be a little less silent, my Thomas. I have a few rather scandalous ideas for a long shower together."
It took Thomas quite a while to regain his concentration after leaving Agnes's office. He found himself walking past his destination with a dazed smile on his face, his mind filled with images of their bodies tangled together, slick with water and steam.
Agnes, the author of that teasing whisper, had not fared any better. She found herself in the same state of blissful torment. Her initial triumph at flustering Thomas had been short-lived. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, she had the sudden realisation that she was just as distracted as she had left him.
It took a couple more days to turn that tantalising promise into reality. And now here they are, wet and tangled together during their lunch break, in Agnes's quarters.
Thomas let his head fall back against the tiles, a long, contented sigh escaping him as Agnes’ hot, insistent lips moved from his jaw to the sensitive skin of his neck, sending shivers through him that had nothing to do with the water’s heat. He felt the soft, wet pressure of her mouth, then a gentle suction that made the fine hairs on his neck stand on end. She held the pressure for a long, deliberate moment before releasing it.
A-Agnes..." he stammered, the single word a mix of astonishment, protest, and surrender. He lifted a hand, almost as if to touch the spot on his neck, his mind grappling with the audacity of her action.
In a fluid motion, she raised a wet finger to his lips. "Shh," she whispered, her eyes, dark with desire, holding his. Then, she closed the remaining distance, and kissed him.
His arms immediately wrapped around her waist with desperate strength, pulling her flush against his body. He kissed her back with a raw, insatiable hunger to match her own, bruising her lips with his and meeting her tongue.
As their fiery kiss deepened, Thomas's hand, which had been on her waist, moved lower and sank into the soft skin of her buttocks. His touch was both possessive and tender. The water continued to run over their bodies, a warm, constant stream that heightened the sensation of his hand on her skin.
They were in a deliciously reckless situation, but the pragmatism that governed their lives was never far below the surface. They instinctively knew that making love in the shower, as was often depicted in movies, was too risky. The tiles were slippery, and they were certainly not young anymore. Twenty years ago or more, they might have given it a shot…
But their hands were free to explore. Thomas cupped Agnes's buttock more firmly, pulling her flush against his erection, while his other hand moved up her spine, tracing the line of her back. Agnes's hands moved with equal fervour, exploring the hard muscles of his back and shoulders. Her fingers traced the broad expanse of his chest and slid gradually lower until they found his member.
The touch was shocking, a profound electric jolt that made Thomas gasp and arch his body into hers instinctively. The sensation of her hand enveloping him was overwhelming — a wave of pleasure that washed away all other thoughts. Shuddering, he gripped her waist as he surrendered completely to her exploration.
Agnes began to caress him slowly and deliberately. Her movements were unhurried — a gentle, uninhibited rhythm. The warmth of the running water seemed to amplify the exquisite friction.
A long, shuddering groan tore from Thomas's throat. Leaning his head back against the tiles, he felt himself losing all sense of control as his world narrowed to the exquisite feeling of her hand on him.
Actually, that languid, unhurried pace was driving him mad; his body was crying out for a speed that she was refusing to give him. He groaned, his hips instinctively pressing into her hand, a desperate, unspoken plea for a release that felt impossibly far away.
And she knew it. Agnes, with a small, knowing smile that was both tender and triumphant, met his gaze. His eyes, dark with a beautiful torment, were a clear reflection of his complete surrender. Her touch remained slow, her steady caress a silent assertion of her control.
At the same time, seeing his beautiful, tortured face ignited a fresh surge of desire within Agnes. Although the game of domination had been exquisitely satisfying, she craved his touch.
With a soft yet determined exhale, she abandoned the slow, maddening rhythm. Her hand moved more quickly, becoming a swift, determined stroke. Thomas's breathing became increasingly ragged. A raw, guttural moan tore from his throat and his head fell forward against her shoulder as he was finally pulled over the edge. His body shuddered violently and his hands gripped her shoulders as if for an anchor. He cried out her name in a final, all-consuming gasp of pure, uninhibited release.
As the last tremors of his climax shuddered through him, Thomas's grip on Agnes's shoulders softened and his hands slid down her back, pulling her close. He leaned his forehead against hers. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving; his frame was now utterly spent.
Agnes gently stroked his cheek with her thumb and kissed him softly.
Gradually, the blissful haze began to clear from Thomas's mind. Reaching up, he gently traced the line of her cheek with his thumb. In a voice still husky from his release, he simply said, "Thank you, Agnes."
Then, with a gentle movement, he shifted their positions, moving his hands from her back to her waist. “It's your turn now,” he murmured, holding her gaze with new intensity, a clear offer of reciprocation.
A slow, radiant smile spread across Agnes face, expressing pure delight at his words. The desire she had momentarily set aside for his sake had not ceased pulsating in her abdomen; it was now a warm, insistent hum, thrumming with renewed urgency.
Without a word, she took one of his hands from her waist and guided it between her legs, pressing his palm against the soft, warm skin of her inner thigh. Her body shifted subtly, inviting him into a new, more intimate space.
With a reverent focus, Thomas began to move his hand. He wanted to mirror her unhurried movements and give her the same pleasure she had so skilfully given him moments before. However, his fingers were clumsy in their zeal as they traced the vulnerable territory.
A sudden, light gasp escaped Agnes's lips, followed by a sweet, bubbling giggle that broke the intense silence of the shower. "You're tickling me!" she whispered, her voice filled with a breathless, delighted laugh.
Thomas froze, a slow, sheepish smile spreading across his face.
Agnes, still giggling softly, gently took his hand. "Not quite there, my dear," she whispered, her warm murmur making his entire body resonate. She placed his palm in the perfect position. "Like this," she continued, her voice filled with a perfect blend of instruction and deep affection. "Slow and steady, just as you began, but with a little more purpose." She moved his hand, showing him the rhythm and pressure: a gentle, steady, circular motion that caused a delicious shudder to run through her.
She leaned in, her lips close to his ear, her voice a low, husky mumble. "Just like that," she whispered. "Slowly... right there, Thomas." She shifted his hand. "And a little faster here," she added, guiding his fingers to a more sensitive area. Her breathing quickened and a soft gasp escaped her lips as her desire surged in response to his tender, guided touch.
No longer awkward or hesitant, Thomas followed her gentle command. He focused completely on her, on her soft sighs and the way her body trembled slightly with each stroke. His fingers, no longer guided by her, deliciously explored her inner folds.
Agnes gripped the nape of his neck with her hand, her fingers tangling in his wet hair. Her head fell back against the shower tiles and she let out a soft sigh, surrendering to his touch. Until her soft gasps turned into a single, long moan that was swallowed by the sound of the running water.
She clung to him, wrapping her arm around his neck. "You were very good... really good… You're such a fast learner," she breathed, her words a deep murmur conveying sincere gratitude.
Thomas chuckled lightly and a profound sense of satisfaction washed over him. He tightened his grip on her and lowered his head to press a soft kiss into her wet hair.
They turned off the shower and stepped out, holding hands. Thomas helped Agnes put on her bathrobe while she handed him a large towel, which he wrapped around his shoulders. She then reached for a smaller towel, gently took his head in her hands, and began to dry his hair.
He closed his eyes and tilted his face towards hers, revelling in the quiet intimacy of the moment. He used the opportunity to lean in and plant a kiss on her lips.
After helping each other to dry off and with one final, lingering caress, Thomas wrapped the towel around his waist and left the bathroom. He began to get dressed, putting on his underwear and trousers. He reached for his watch, which he had placed on the small desk in front of Agnes's bed. As he slipped it onto his wrist, his eyes fell upon the time. A low exclamation of surprise and alarm, escaped him.
"Oh, dear God." he murmured. "Is it really that late? I had an appointment with Aldo scheduled for... more than fifteen minutes ago! I suppose he called me, too." He started rummaging through the pockets of his cassock, which was lying on the bed. Finally, he found his phone. But without his reading glasses, he couldn't see anything, so he searched his pockets again and pulled them out. As expected, there was a missed call from Aldo Bellini and a text message: 'Am I mistaken, or did we have an appointment?'
In the meantime, Agnes had joined him and had almost finished getting dressed. Standing opposite him, she put on her veil. As she adjusted it, she watched him from the corner of her eye, a small, knowing smile on her face. He was trying to quickly type a reply, but to zero success due to the errors he kept making, forcing him to delete and rewrite. Finally, he managed to send the following message: 'Sorry, I've had a setback, but I'm getting there. I'll be with you shortly.'
He then hastily put on his shirt, but he found himself fumbling with the buttons. Agnes looked over and, with a small, knowing smile, reached out to help him. "Allow me," she murmured tenderly. She placed her hands over his, stopping his frustrated attempts, and fastened his shirt buttons with a few swift, practised motions. "Careful, my dear Cardinal," she whispered. "We can't have you looking so dishevelled. A rogue button might just betray our little secret."
Thomas let out a soft, rueful chuckle, his own composure slowly returning under her calm, steady presence. After putting on his cassock, he leaned in to quickly kiss her lips.
The touch was intended as a brief, chaste goodbye, but lingered for a moment longer than intended. He didn't want to leave, and his body's silent reluctance reflected the precious time they had just shared.
Agnes responded to his kiss, her lips soft and warm against his. Then, after a moment, a faint giggle escaped her lips. "You know you're still late, right?" she murmured against his lips, her voice a teasing reminder of the outside world.
He simply shook his head, a contented smile on his face. "Just a moment longer," he replied, kissing her deeply again.
"I have to get back to work, too," she said, in a final acknowledgement that their stolen moment had come to an end.
Just then, a sharp, insistent ringtone cut through the silence. "See?" she said with a wry smile. "That's mine."
Moving with an effortless grace, she crossed the room to the bedside table where her mobile phone lay. Her demeanour shifted in an instant. She was no longer a lover in a private sanctuary, but a woman of immense authority who was already detached from the recklessness they had just shared. Glancing at the screen, she answered the call in a calm, perfectly composed voice.
Thomas stood and watched her, feeling a profound sense of admiration for her composure. It was a skill he usually possessed too, yet with her, he was completely and delightfully undone.
Agnes ended her phone call calmly and professionally. She then crossed to the door, opened it slightly, and, with a swift, furtive glance, checked that the convent corridor was empty.
Once the all-clear had been given, she turned back to Thomas, her eyes sparkling with mischievous delight. Leaning in close to his ear, she murmured one last teasing remark. "Try not to look so pleased with yourself, Thomas," she whispered. "Bellini might start to ask questions."
A broad smile slowly spread across Thomas's face. He knew he looked exactly as she had described: a man utterly and gloriously content. After sharing one final glance that conveyed gratitude and affection, Agnes gently placed her hands on his chest and gave him a soft push. It was a loving dismissal; a tender way of sending him back out into the world. He stepped out of her room at the Mater Ecclesiae Convent, the door clicking softly shut in front of him, leaving him alone in the quiet corridor. He hurried to his next appointment, smiling to himself as his mind was still filled with the memory of Agnes's touch.