A/N: The starting point for this story is a painting by the Spanish artist, Vicente Castell. If you have never seen his paintings, I highly suggest you do so. I was recently taken with a painting by him called Altar Boys at the Confessional. It is the cover of the story. I will call the boy in the confessional booth Carlos and the boy kneeling on the left Roberto.

This story is a work of fiction and does not portray real events or characters. The main theme of the story is underage love. If this material offends you, read no further. If not, hope you enjoy and do leave reviews.


Twelve-year-old Carlos walked for miles on the dirt road without seeing so much as a single house. The sky was a clear blue, and he was drenched from sweat. Carlos began to regret not catching a ride with his father earlier that morning.

Then there it was, tucked behind a grove of cypress trees. A moderately-sized marble church. Nuestra Señora de la Gracia Infinita (Our Lady of Infinite Grace). Carlos ran across the grass relieved, wiping his brow with his already dampened brown cap.

Carlos carefully closed the heavy ornate door behind him and wiped the sweat out of his medium-length black hair. The church was silent as a nighttime basement. Every step he made echoed and resonated. As Carlos went to the quarters to don on his robes, he heard someone snicker, nearly making him jump.

"Hello?" Carlos slowly entered the room and walked toward the closet. "Is somebody here?"

A young boy, a year older than him at most, stepped out of the confessional booth. He had olive skin, handsome wavy hair and a button nose. Carlos noticed the white surplice above the red robe.

"Hello! What're you doing here on this hot day?"

"I thought I could walk here faster, and I came to help with the service. God, I must've walked for miles."

Carlos reached the other boy and stopped. He had soothing eyes.

"Come in, sit down. I'll get you some water. Call me Roberto."

"Thank you."

Carlos looked down. His white cotton briefs stuck to his slim body and you could see everything. He blushed and covered himself with his arms. Roberto handed him a towel plus a cup of water and Carlos saw him struggling not to stare as Carlos cooled off.

"Are you okay? I thought I heard cursing when I came in."

"Oh. No, I'm fine, I just have had a rough start today."

"Do you want to talk about it? I'm a great listener. I'm actually studying to be a priest one day, so I'll be a traveling missionary one day."

"I probably could use someone to talk to..."

"Then it's a good thing I found you! Let's go in here, where it's more private."

Carlos climbed into the confessional booths and Roberto knelt down in front of him. The cutouts in the wood divider cast intricate shadows on his face. The walls were reddish polished oak and smelled of incense.

"What's bothering you amigo?"

"I'm supposed to take my vows in three days, and I don't think I can do it." Carlos could see Roberto look down at his hands. "Every time I think about this being my calling in life, my heart feels like glass and I'm scared of falling apart. It's not angers. It's is something more."

"What are you scared of?"

"I don't think this is me. I've been good for two weeks when I entered the seminary. I wanted to make God proud, and I thought his words and laws would be good for me. But I feel confused."

"That's a pretty big choice to make when you're not old enough to drink yet."

"I know. But my family kept saying how great it was that I chose the church. I couldn't make them ashamed of me. I've already put them through a lot."

"What made you want to become a priest?"

"I've always been helping people. I believe that God calls us to help people the best we can. But I don't know if I need to be in the clergy to do it."

"What scares you more? Staying home or leaving it?"

"Huh." Roberto considered the question carefully. "I'm scared of spending the rest of my life not being somebody. I feel lonely most of the time."

"You seem to know what you want to do."

Roberto was silent. Carlos watched him with silent admiration. He looked up, and he looked right at the boy confessing to him.

He came into the booth and closed the door behind him. Roberto took Carlos into his arms and kissed him deeply. His tongue touched the younger boys and caressed his mouth. Carlos could feel his boldness.

They awkwardly undressed in the cramped space and Carlos sat on Roberto's lap. They kissed and Carlos could feel him stiffen and grow underneath him. Carlos lightly bit on the older boy's neck and ran his fingers over his still smooth chest.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Roberto pulled Carlos close, spit into his dominant hand and lubricated his cock before he entered him slowly. Even if this was a sacred space, Carlos wanted him so bad.

"I've never been sure of anything in my whole life."

Carlos thrusted against him and their limbs knocked against the walls. Roberto touched his body like it was a holy relic. He kissed Carlos like an adoring lover.

Roberto raised his new friend's arms and ran his fingers down Carlos sides. He teased Carlos rosebud and brought him to the brink and back. Roberto watched the other boy's heated face as Carlos writhed under his touch. He held Carlos close and kissed his nipples. Carlos readily braced his arms against the wall.

"Come with me," Roberto said.

Carlos followed him to the crossing, and they laid on the steps. A giant crucifix was suspended above them from wires. They continued to make passionate love on the red carpet. Carlos climaxed and his cries echoed and bounced off the high exquisitely painted ceiling.

Roberto touched Carlos face and angled his hips to go deeper inside.

"The Holy Spirit's in you," he said.

It felt as though a gentle breeze waived over his flesh.