The sanctuary of the ancient cathedral basked in a golden gloam

The sanctuary of the ancient cathedral basked in a golden gloam, filtering through stain-glass windows. High above, stone gargoyles kept silent watch as the day inched closer to dusk. Today, the tiny confessional room nestled behind ornate woodwork and flickering candles whispered with unspeakable acts, stains of pleasure in the solemn house of God. However unchristian their intent, Fran and Dante were entwined in an inescapable web of shared heritage and illicit passion. Unclothed, they were naked in every meaning of the word - nude bodies flushed, hidden complexities laid bare, truths belonging only to siblings acquainted as intimately as Fran and Dante. The brother and sister shared not just their interminably unruly, midnightblack hair and chocolate-colored irises, but an I'm-bolder-than-the-rest insolence sculpting their jawlines, illuminating their skin like precious ephemera. Side-by-side, their presence coupled with the building's designed silence lent them a querulous intimacy. In a corner of the tight sanctum, they hovered under the quiet gloom and the incessant pull towards each other. Their dichotomy - physical awe swallowed by guilt-riddled bewilderment. Dante, raw-chiseled, bare-faired, scooped up his sister in a stagger of desire, wrapping strong fingers around her buttocks while she swung a thigh on either side of him to straddle him on his knees. He gently sidled up the pink schism between her firm rear cheeks, thumbs stirringFran’s pitcher-person/cliitoris/pussy-step, plucking murmuring moans from her goddess-like form.