The little village's parish priest was a rather young man with blond curls that fell down to his shoulders and deep brown eyes like fertile soil. The man had only very recently been assigned to the small parish in the tiny village of peasants, yet already the population seemed to have taken quite a liking to him.

The young priest lived as they did, in a small wooden hut with only one room and a fire in the middle to help warm the tiny home. The parish priest lived on his small glebe where he grew his own food and, when he wasn't working in the church, would either be tending to his own crops or helping his parishioners with their own crops and livestock.

The priest woke easily to the light of the morning streaming into his small home, moving to get out of his straw bed and out from beneath the wool blanket one of the parishioners had given him to keep him warm in his first winter with them. He got up and stretched out, moving to open the wooden shutters on the two windows on the wall of his home, humming at the warmth of the morning sun on his nude body. He stretched out his long limbs and moved to dress himself in his long black gown before he broke his fast on a piece of bread and some cheese.

When finished eating, the priest made his way out of his home and down to the church with the rest of his parishioners.

"Welcome, dear friends. Please make yourselves comfortable." He said, holding the door open to the villagers. The church was a humble one, and was by no means a cathedral. It was small, but it was built to last for centuries with sturdy stone.

"Gabryelle, what will your sermon be on today?" A little girl asked curiously, parting away from her mother to run up to the blond man.

"You will see soon, darling girl, don't worry." Gabryelle replied easily, moving to gently tap the tip of the child's nose.

She grinned and giggled, reuniting with her parents and brothers as they all filed into the church for Sunday Mass.

Gabryelle was the last to go inside, following a young woman with long, red curls. The woman was rather new to the village, and had come alone in the night only a few days earlier. There were no new huts around and she was never seen with any children or a husband of any sort. They never saw her tending to crops or spinning wool or weaving blankets or anything of the sort. They did, however, often see her in the church praying silently to herself by the light of the candles.

The priest walked inside and shut the door behind him, striking a fire on the wicks of the candles on the altar in the front of the small church. Gabryelle hadn't come from a rich family by any means, his parents both dying from illness when he was still figuring out how to walk by himself. He'd been taken in by the church and raised to be a priest. He wasn't educated like the higher priests were. He couldn't read or write or speak perfect Latin. He knew the stories of the Bible, though, by heart, having been taught them orally.

Gabryelle took his place in front of the group of parishioners and cleared his throat.

"Peace be with you." He started to the group.

"And also with you."

Gabryelle smiled softly at that, starting in with the service easily, leading the villagers through multiple prayers and hymns before giving his sermon. He spoke about the oncoming harvest season and the blessings of bountiful crops and healthy animals.

"We must always be thankful for how kind our Heavenly Father has been to us. Our livestock are all healthy, our crops are aplenty, and we are all healthy and happy and fruitful. We may not have many material items, but we know that such things will have no meaning when we've all passed on to the Paradise that awaits us at the end of our lives. Our skin may be darkened from the sun, but that simply shows how hard we work and toil every day. It is the good man, the hard working man, the man who remains humble and loving to the end of his days who will pass through the gilded gates of Paradise at the end of the day. God has gifted us with all that we need and we couldn't be happier. " He said to the people with a genuine smile before leading them into yet another prayer to bring them bountiful crops to help them to make it through the coming winter.

"...In God's name we pray. Amen." He finished, making a cross by touching his shoulders, forehead, and abdomen. He finished the Mass as he always did, sending them all off to enjoy the Sabbath in peace, the villagers all leaving the church together to return to their homes for the holy day of resting.

Gabryelle was about to head back to his own hut when he heard footsteps coming towards him at the front of the church, turning around to see the red haired woman striding towards him. "Is there something I can help you with, fair lady?" he asked curiously.

"Please, call me Wineva." She replied easily to him with a warm smile. "I was wondering if it would be too much trouble to request a Confession."

"Of course it wouldn't be. Please, follow me." He replied, leading her back through the church to a small confessional. He got in on his side as she got in on the other side, lighting the candle inside easily so they weren't sitting in total darkness.

"I'm afraid, Father, that I have sinned. Or, at least, I find myself wishing to." She said easily to him as she settled into the confessional, the priest on the other side of the screened window as her.

"What is the sin you find yourself tempted to commit?"

"I find myself tempted by lust, Father. There is a man who practically sets my womanhood ablaze. I want nothing more than share his bed." She replied honestly.

Gabryelle simply nodded. "The Devil tempts God's children in many ways, all of them just as wicked as the last. You are a beautiful, young, fertile woman. You mustn't give up hope that you will find a suitable husband soon enough." He said to her gently.

She nodded and gave a small sigh. "I should have been married long ago. I was betrothed once, but he fell ill before we could wed and perished all too quickly. Since then, no man has come calling to me. I fear none ever shall."

"You mustn't lose faith, Wineva. A man will come for you one day." Gabryelle replied to her easily.

She nodded and smiled a bit. "Thank you, Father. I will do all I can to remain pure until he comes."

"Is that all you need?" he asked curiously.

"Yes, Thank you."

"Go in peace, then, dear Winevra."

She nodded and moved to get out of the confessional. Gabryelle got out after her, blowing out the candle.

Winevra had lingered around silently, smiling when she saw the tall, thin, blond priest get out of the confessional. In an instant, she'd grabbed his gown and pushed him forcefully against the wall of the church, then pushing herself against him.

"I-I-I don't underst-" Gabryelle gasped out, getting cut off by the feeling of her mouth pressed against his, her tongue forcing his mouth open, snaking its way inside, then pressing insistently against his own tongue. He froze for a bit before panicking a bit, setting his hands on her forehead to push her away.

The young priest panted when he finally pushed her off of him. "Please, Wineva, I am a priest. I've devoted my life to our Father in Heaven. I will never take a wife, and I will never father any sons or daughters. These are my vows. I pray you respect them." He said breathlessly to the younger woman. "If you will excuse me, I need to pray."

Wineva smiled and nodded, watching as the priest nodded to her and walked off, leading her out of the church before he headed back to his little hut nearby to spend the rest of his Sabbath in prayer. She just turned and walked the other way, walking out of the bounds of the village for a mile or two, spotting a familiar figure in the distance.

"I've found myself a new little toy, I think." She announced happily to the other figure, walking up to her easily.

"Better than the baker you had last time?" The other woman asked with a small smirk.

"Much better. He's young, strong, and rather handsome. His good looks are wasted, though. The poor boy's a priest, and a very pious one at that."

The woman nodded and looked out over the distant little village as they all went on with their little lives. "Well, it's up to you. Do you bother with this toy, knowing it will be more difficult, or do you find a new one somewhere else? There are plenty of priests in this world, this one isn't special."

"Have you ever known me to give up just because of a few complications? No, I think I'll stick with this one for a while. Perhaps I can try to toy with the organ in his chest before I go for the one between his legs." Wineva said with a smile at the new idea.

"Are you planning to turn him, or just sleep with him and move on?" The other asked curiously.

"I'm not sure right now. We'll see how much fun he is." Wineva replied easily, grinning at her friend beside her.

The priest had returned to his little home to rest for the rest of the day like the rest of the villagers, trying to chase away the thought of how the woman had pinned him to the wall so effortlessly, practically throwing herself onto him. He sighed and shook his head. She was simply in the middle of a fight against lust, and she would have to look inside herself and take a while to fight that battle. He couldn't blame her for what she'd done. She was only a human, and the devil was much stronger than mere men.

Gabryelle moved to add a log to the small fire in the middle of his hut to keep it going, sitting down on the floor, bowing his head in prayer as he asked God to protect Wineva and save her from the devilish urges stirring within her. He looked up, ending his prayer by making a cross across his chest before getting up from his seat on the ground, walking over to answer the door, blinking when he saw Wineva on the other side, looking sheepish and innocent.

"Dear Wineva, what can I do for you?" he asked curiously.

"I'd like to apologize for earlier, Father. I don't know what came over me. It must have been the devil like you said. I try my best to be pure, I don't know how this happened to me." She said, sniffling a bit as tears sprung from her eyes and started to roll down her cheeks.

Gabryelle blinked at that, moving quickly to gently take her by the shoulders. "Do not blame yourself, Wineva, dear Wineva. Please, come in and share my fire." he said, stepping aside to let the young woman into his small hut. "You mustn't blame yourself, dear woman. Our Heavenly Father made the Devil stronger than us men, so you can't blame yourself entirely for falling into his trap."

Wineva sniffled and nodded, looking over at the young man as he sat down next to her beside the warm fire. He was going to be a fun toy, she decided. He was just pure and naïve enough to have some real fun with.

Gabryelle sat with her and shared his bread and food with her happily, working to lift her spirits by holding her hands in his own and singing happily with her and telling her stories next to the fire until night fell.

"Ah, it's night. I had better head home…" Wineva said with a small sigh, looking out the hut's little window to see that the sun had already set.
"You can't. The witching hour is no time to be wandering around. When the sun falls and the moon rises, the demons dance and wreak havoc. Please, stay here for the night. You can have my bed." Gabryelle said to her, grasping onto her hands for what seemed like the hundredth time that day.

Wineva blinked at that and smiled a bit to him. "You're very kind, Father. Thank you." She said to him easily. "It's a shame about your vows. You would have made a wonderful husband."

Gabryelle smiled at the compliment and kissed her forehead softly. "Bless you, dear Wineva." He said to her, leading her over to the small straw bed he usually slept on. He let her get situated, moving to bunker down on the ground next to the fire to keep him warm.

"Are you sure it's alright if I use your bed for the night?" She asked curiously.

"Yes, of course. You are my guest. Please, sleep in my bed and warm yourself with my blankets. I hope you wake up happy when morning comes." Gabryelle replied as he lay down on the floor next to the fire, curling up comfortably. He shut his eyes and, within a few minutes, was asleep.

Wineva never slept at all throughout the night, just staying in the straw bed under the warm woolen blankets. She noticed when the priest was beginning to stir awake, deciding it would be best to play her cards while he was still half asleep. She watched as the man slowly woke up, eventually sitting up, his eyes still droopy and tired.

"Good morning, Father." She said softly, moving over to kneel down next to him. "I trust you slept well?"

Gabryelle just looked over at her and hummed in reply, often taking a while to completely wake up.

She smiled and laughed a bit, moving to lean in and kiss his lips softly, gently stroking his blond curls, not surprised when the drowsy man let her do it, soon kissing her back a bit. That was it, the moment he started kissing her on his own, she'd become like a drug to him and he'd become addicted to her. It would start as a small romance, and she would make the priest spiral down and down with her until she'd had her fun with him.

Gabryelle hummed, parting from the kiss a bit, looking into her eyes, a new sort of glimmer in his deep brown eyes. He then leaned in and kissed her again, wanting nothing more than to continue doing so all throughout the day. Her lips were soft and warm and tasted like warm, fresh bread. He felt her gentle fingers run through his hair, her other hand resting on his jaw gently while he moved his hands to wrap around her waist.

"Father, what's your name? You never did tell me." She panted out softly after they parted to breathe, pressing their foreheads together.

"Gabryelle. It's just Gabryelle." He replied to her easily.

"Gabryelle. It's very lovely. You were named after the angel, right?" She replied easily to him, stroking his cheek softly.

"Yes, I was. I rather like it. It may prove to be problematic in the future, though."

"Oh? How so?"

"Well, when I die and go to Heaven, and our Heavenly Father makes me an angel so I can fight in his righteous army, I won't know if they're calling for me or the other." He explained with a small smile and a laugh.

She smiled at that and laughed a bit as well, grinning at him. It was ironic, she thought. If things went her way, the man would have no chance of ever seeing the pearly gates of Paradise.