“Any number of things could have happened just a little bit differently, even by a word or two spoken, to not make this happen, yet it did. If you want to call it God, or fate, or blind dumb luck, it doesn’t matter. But I’m with you, I know my heart will heal, and we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together raising two beautiful daughters who will probably give us heart attacks when they’re teenagers.”
Connor breathed a sigh. His boy once again echoing thoughts in his own heart. “Do you think maybe it’s God trying to speak to me through all this?”
“I won’t say that, Master. But you couldn’t have made me happier with that wedding ceremony if you’d tried. Every word was perfect.”
Connor kissed him. “Don’t try to drag me to church.”
“I won’t, Master.”
“Maybe one day I can get there, but I’m still too…angry.”
“I know.”
He watched his boy’s eyes. “Confession might be good for the soul for some people.”
There was the tell again, the way Douglas’ gaze darted right before he blinked.
I will figure that out.
But not tonight. Not when all he wanted to do was snuggle with his husband and fall asleep with him in his arms.
“Love you, baby.”
“Love you, too, Master.”
* * * *
Douglas was a little slow to move Sunday morning, but Connor caught him smiling as he studied his ass and back in the bathroom mirror before they grabbed their shower to go pick up the girls.
“Not too much?” Connor carefully asked from the bathroom doorway.
Douglas’ smile widened. “No, Master. Feel free to do that whenever we can. I love your sadistic side.”
Sunday night, after Douglas had fallen asleep, Connor quietly climbed out of bed and headed for the garage, where he explored the boxes of Douglas’ things stacked there. He grimly smiled when he opened one in particular, finding exactly what he’d sought.
Bingo.
There was something Douglas was holding back from him, and he fucking wanted to know what it was. His boy wanted him to freely unleash his sadistic side whenever he wanted to?
Wish granted.
But it would be under Master’s terms.
Monday morning, Douglas would be taking Connor to work, dropping the girls off, then going to work until lunchtime. Once he left work, he’d come get Connor so they could run to the courthouse and file their marriage certificate, giving them a couple of hours alone before they needed to pick up the girls from Etsu.
Except how that really went down was that, Monday morning, Connor ducked back into the house on the pretense of having forgotten his phone while Douglas was fitting Zee’s carrier into the carseat base. Meanwhile, Connor left a little surprise on their bed for Douglas.
After Douglas had texted Connor that he’d reached work, Connor responded.
Stop by home before you come get me this afternoon. Look on our bed. You WILL be wearing it when you come pick me up, and you WILL park and walk inside, to my office, when you arrive.
Connor leaned back in his chair and waited, staring at his phone. Douglas’ reply arrived just a moment later.
??
Connor smiled and replied.
You’ll see. I’m still waiting for your proper reply.
* * * *
Douglas didn’t know what was going through his husband’s mind—and he still wanted to squee a little out loud when officially thinking that title in relation to Connor—but he suspected the sadist wanted to play some more.
Yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir.
That meant—time check—four hours before he could escape and see the surprise Connor had in store for him.
Good boy. :)
Douglas’ cock twitched, not helped by how sore his ass and thighs felt when he sat down.
Not that he was complaining, because he wasn’t.
He suspected Connor had prepared a vibrating butt plug, or something equally devious.
Something he was sure he was going to absolutely fucking love, even if he swore up and down at the man in the process.
He wouldn’t complain too much, though.
This was…this was Heaven.
Truly.
That’s why, after he arrived home, he pulled up short when he saw what was laid out on the bed and awaiting him.
It wasn’t a butt plug.
It wasn’t any other kinky item.
It was one of his black priest shirts from the box in the garage, along with one of his white clerical collars.
Douglas wasn’t sure why his stomach clenched at this—and not in a good way.
He knew he had two options: obey or safeword.
I spent fifteen years as a priest. I was ready to literally let him piss on me. Am I really going to safeword for being ordered to wear a damn shirt and collar I used to wear nearly every day?
The psychologist in his brain said, Hmmm.
The priest in his brain arched an eyebrow.
The submissive slave husband picked up the shirt and gave it a sniff.
Fortunately, it didn’t smell musty or funky from its time in storage. But it was wrinkled, so he took a moment to set up the ironing board and take care of that.
It was hard not to fall into his old, familiar pattern as he ironed, losing himself in meditative thought. He didn’t want to waste time, but he also wanted it to be right.
He hadn’t worn one of these shirts—or a collar—since just after Mackie returned to his life. The last morning Mass he’d given, and only because there hadn’t been time to get a replacement priest to do it, had been the last time he’d worn any of his other garb, either.
What are you up to, Husband?
Frankly, the last thing he’d expected Connor would want to see him wearing would be anything that remotely reminded him of the priesthood and what he’d endured as a kid.
Finally, Douglas dressed, changing out the tan khakis he’d been wearing for a pair of charcoal grey slacks, and his black loafers.
As he buttoned the shirt, which he’d donned over the same undershirt he’d worn that morning, he tried not to think about the past. His past, the one after he’d left Connor.
He stared into the mirror as he fitted his collar in place. It felt…weird. But not in any way he could readily explain. Familiar, sure.
Missed—yes.
Except it almost felt like he was caught in some weird Schrödingerian existence, where he was both still a priest, and he was Connor’s husband and slave.
Please ease Connor’s heart and his soul, Lord. I trust him, but I’m not sure if he trusts himself. Amen.
His gaze settled on the dresser, on the little dish with some of his things in it, like his wedding band from Mackie, and the plain gold band he used to wear when he was a priest, because it’d helped put a halt to women hitting on him, ironically enough—and he had pretended Connor had put it on his hand.
The chain holding the inexpensive engagement ring and wedding band he’d bought for Mackie in a pawn shop on their way to the clerk’s office to get married. After a moment’s thought, he added the other two bands to the chain, kissing the one Mackie had put on his finger, before gently setting it back in the dish.
He stared at the shiny gold band on his left hand, different from the two previous ones he’d worn, more because of what it literally symbolized—a full circle, a dream come true.
A healing heart, finally.
It was something different now from what he used to wear as a priest, but he’d only take it off by Connor’s direct order, or one of Connor’s already-stated exclusions.
His amethyst rosary lay on top of everything else in the dish.
After a moment’s hesitation, he picked it up, kissed the cross, and tucked it into his right front pocket, where he used to always carry it.
I guess I’ll soon find out.
He headed out the door after texting Connor he was on his way.
* * * *
Too late to back out now.
Actually, it wasn’t too late, because he could text Douglas to forget it and change back into street clothes.
It wasn’t Douglas who’d hurt him.
Well, not originally.
If anything, Douglas had done more to heal him and make him feel like he wasn’t some completely fucked-up freak during their time together as kids. More than his husband might ever know.
Losing him had hurt, but at least Connor had felt, in some way, that maybe one day he’d be able to find someone else to love him the way Douglas had loved him.
Not that he had, but he’d hoped.
The marriage certificate sat tucked into a folder on the corner of his desk. All they had to do was file the paperwork, and it meant that, by the time they went to bed that night, in the eyes of the State of Florida, they were legally husbands.
Something that never would have been possible when they were kids.
Still…
Yeah, it was all fucked up in his head why he felt he needed to do this. Closure, of some sort? The priest responsible would spend the rest of his life in prison.
The Church that had enabled him and allowed him to keep hurting kids?
That would outlive Connor, no doubt.
And he fucking wanted to know what it was that Douglas was holding back from him.
Despite having ordered him to wear the outfit, and having seen pictures of him dressed like that, Connor still sucked in a breath as his cock hardened when Douglas arrived and walked across the showroom—which he could see through his office door—to stand in his office doorway.
He looked fucking sharp. He’d obviously ironed the shirt.
And yes, there was his wedding band on his guy’s hand.
That just made him rock-hard, knowing Douglas was finally his. Well out of reach of the Church now.
Beyond that, there was something…different about Douglas.
It reminded him of when he’d confronted Douglas at Niall’s house, and then the next day, in his office—
Submissive.
Not just submissive, though.
Connor had thought about maybe a little subtle role-play here to throw Douglas mentally off-balance and fuck with him, but he couldn’t. He needed to do this at home, where he could break out the big guns.
Connor suddenly realized Douglas was just standing there, waiting on him to say something.
He waved for him to come in and pointed to close the door behind him. His office blinds were open, and it’d be kinda weird if he closed them right now, so it wasn’t like they could get kinky in here.
Not today, anyway.
“Looking good, Father Koenig.”
He actually stared down at the floor. “Thank you, Sir.”
“Eyes on me,” he snapped. Douglas complied. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, Sir.”
Connor leaned back in his chair, smiling. He laced his fingers on top of his head and couldn’t help playing with his wedding band, feeling a little like a dick but still determined to go through with this. “What’d you think when you saw the surprise?”
“Confused, Sir.”
“Not too confused to break out an iron, huh?”
“Old habit, Sir. I’m sorry.”
“Didn’t expect an apology from you for it. You look good. What else did you feel?”
Douglas shrugged. “I can’t ever go back, but I do miss parts of it. I miss helping people. It reminds me of the good things about it.”
Connor snapped a picture of him with his phone before he stood and gathered his things. “Let’s go file our paperwork.” A sudden, unanticipated wave of second-guessing filled him. “Did you bring something to change into?”
Douglas’ gaze met his and an unmistakable oh, shit expression washed over his face. “No, Sir. I’m sorry. Your instructions didn’t say that.”
No, they hadn’t. And his good boy had trusted him by following his orders exactly.
Fuck it. This was what he’d wanted, right? “Never mind. Let’s get moving. I want a couple of hours alone with you this afternoon.”
* * * *
At this point, Douglas was along for the ride. It wasn’t only Catholic priests who dressed like this, although that was what people usually assumed when seeing a man in a clerical collar, unless they were raised Anglican or Episcopalian or one of the other religions who used it, and were used to it. There was nothing legally stopping them from filing their marriage certificate, even if people thought he was a Catholic priest.
Just in case, he had brought all his paperwork with him, including his birth certificate, his marriage license with Mackie, and her death certificate. He wanted to go home being Douglas Koenig Strickland and didn’t want anything to delay that. The only reason he’d keep Koenig at all was for his licensing and degrees. It was easier to keep it rather than change it.
When they arrived at the courthouse, he ignored the curious glances they received from a few people as they walked to the clerk’s office to file the paperwork while holding hands. When it was their turn, the clerk did an obvious double-take when she spotted his collar, but didn’t say anything about it as she took their papers and started the process.
“Name change for either of you?”
“Both,” Connor said before Douglas could reply.
Douglas looked at him and caught the playful smile Connor wore. “I think it’s only fair we’re both Koenig Strickland. Especially with the girls.”
He hadn’t thought of that. He was going to change Zee’s last name to Strickland as part of the adoption, but…yeah.
“Thank you, Master,” he silently mouthed.
Connor dropped him a wink that, God help him, hardened his cock.
Yeah, there was something almost…wicked about getting horned up when dressed like this.
Maybe that was Connor’s whole point.
Didn’t matter. It was what his Master wanted, it wasn’t interfering with his job, it wasn’t in front of the girls or, technically, exposing any vanillas to anything sordid, and it was an intrinsic part of who he’d been.
Twenty minutes later, they both had certified name change forms…and two certified copies of their marriage certificate. Connor stopped him in the hallway outside the clerk’s office and kissed him, hard. Definitely nothing god-like in that.
Or in the erection that sprang to life in Douglas’ slacks, either. He had to reach down and subtly adjust himself before Connor took his hand and led the way back to the parking garage.
When they reached the SUV, before Douglas could open the passenger door for him, Connor stepped in and pinned him against the door with his body.
There was no mistaking the hardon in Connor’s slacks, either.
Blue-hot flame filled Connor’s gaze. “You do realize, Father, that I’m going to take you home and show you what a husband does to another husband, correct?”
His throat dried up. “Yes, Master.”
“And you realize I’m going to put you through hell in the process, right?”
“Yes, Master.” Whatever he dealt, Douglas would take it. If he couldn’t, he’d say so, but he suspected this was something Connor needed to get out, once and for all.
The psychologist wasn’t exactly happy about this.
The priest was definitely unhappy about this.
The submissive husband eagerly bounced up and down and couldn’t wait to get started despite his already sore and aching ass.
“Good. Let’s go.” He stepped back so Douglas could open the passenger door for him.
Please give me the strength to be strong enough for him. Amen.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
At every step today, Douglas had gone along with him, hadn’t balked, hadn’t safeworded.
Connor wasn’t sure if that thrilled or terrified him. He knew his boy t
rusted him, but how far did that trust extend?
How far was too far?
When Douglas started the car, Connor reached over and turned off the radio, which he knew would unsettle Douglas.
Still, Douglas didn’t ask about it. He got them into traffic and headed for home.
“So, Father Koenig,” Connor said, just to maintain the tone, “I’m curious exactly why you returned to Florida, beyond wanting to reunite with me. Why not try to get a lay position with the Church up there? And besides, why didn’t you take a lay position when you first left? Why’d you go into private practice?”
Connor hadn’t really dug into this point, plus he wanted to unsettle Douglas, fuck with him, keep him mentally off-balance to allow him to discover what Douglas was holding back.
He could tell he’d struck a nerve from the way Douglas’ hands tightened on the steering wheel. “It wasn’t a very large diocese, and the bishop was very…”
“Strict?”
“That’s one word for it. I likely could have searched in other areas for a lay ministerial position, but it was very scandalous, both in terms of what the bishop thought of the situation and in the diocese itself. It wasn’t a large church. Nothing like this had happened in its history. Bishop Adderbury sort of took it as a personal affront. I knew if I tried applying, it would be a waste of time. Plus I knew there wasn’t the budget for it in our area. It was easier to find a non-ministerial job outside the Church.”
“Probably paid more, too.”
“There was that consideration.”
“And health insurance.”
“All of that, too.”
He let the silence settle between them for about ten minutes, knowing it’d unsettle Douglas. He liked music when he drove, something that had started when they were kids, them singing along to the radio as they went places, usually with Douglas driving because Connor couldn’t afford a car of his own and his mom was usually working.
“I would think it’d be easy to hide someone with the weight of the Church behind you,” Connor finally said at a red light. “Fuckers do it all the time with priests. Why was it so important to marry her and lie about you being the baby’s father?”
Come in From the Cold Page 24
