by Ella James
He inhales sharply. I can see him staring at the manicured lawn ahead of us as if he’s thinking hard, not really seeing the bright afternoon. “I can't help who I'm attracted to. And someone's going to say, well you could choose to be celibate. And single. But I'm not happy single. I’m not…good.”
I think of Pearl’s stories—of how he used to call in sick, of my Sky lying by the fireplace, all alone for days, depressed and drowning—and I nod.
He goes on: “Someone else will say it's gluttonous to want sex. And their card won't get called, so help me." He laughs.
“So help me God,” I correct, teasing. “Remember? That's how that goes. So help me, God. With a comma after me.”
"So help me, God." His eyes come to mine.
I smile. "That's what we're saying, yeah? You believe He’ll help you, don’t you?"
He nods quickly, his eyes gleaming.
We’re walking toward a garden of shrubs. For a minute, it’s just our soft footsteps on the grass, in this same stretch of lawn where the car ran me over. I inhale through my nose, looking out at the nearby road before locking my eyes on the grass blades. I won’t be afraid of that shit.
Luke continues, "So, people will ask why I should be able to have a partner, and a family, if I can't do it the way they think is right. And I can talk about not judging one another. But at the end of the day, there will be doubters. Always. This is the point history has brought us to. Interpretation, guidance from the church—and this is how things have evolved. There's nothing anyone can do about it."
"Except be honest,” I say. “And be brave as hell. And that's what you're doing."
"I'm not."
"You are, dude. Don’t sell my guy short. You're miserable, uncomfortable, tired. And brave. And I love that about you." We stop in the grass, in front of a weeping willow. My eyes lock onto a black car that’s moving smoothly down the road, about three hundred yards away from us. The lawn is still covered with rainbow flags. The car moves past us. I cup Sky’s cheek, and we kiss softly...then more deeply.
"Let's go to my office, Rayne."
His hand tightens around mine, and he leads me to a door I’ve never noticed before.
“There are exit points all around. You probably haven’t noticed,” he says.
He touches the finger pad, and I realize it’s just like the one at his house. That thought moves through my mind: that his fingerprint is the key to this entire kingdom; this place is his domain in every way. Of course it hurts to feel rejected here…to be attacked here.
Sky leads me to a stairwell, and we go up the stairs two at a time. He pulls me, almost too fast, through a hall, and I can tell without actually recognizing the scenery around us that we’re moving toward the pastor’s wing.
“Lots of people aren’t here. At a banquet,” he says, reaching down, where I notice his pants are tented.
Fuck yes, McD. Give it to me. On the pastor’s desk.
We start kissing by a padded bench, and after that, we can't stop. Luke is right: the pastor's wing is empty. We’re grabbing at each other as we round a partial wall and sight his office. There’s a woman standing near his door in a green suit.
Her eyes pop open wider as she sees us. "Hello."
Luke’s face goes grave. “Mrs. Corningwell."
"Pastor McDowell."
Oh my God, his pants are still tented. I step partly in front of him so he can fix that, pretending to squint at something behind the woman.
"I came by to discuss the donation,” she says pertly.
I can see Luke's face pale. "Sure. Of course."
"I'll catch ya later." I choose my words with care, in case she happens to be someone who doesn’t know about him being gay yet, and so if she does know, she won’t necessarily know that I’m me. That is, assuming she missed that giant boner.
I feel melancholy as I take the stairs back down toward my area. It's a heart thing, not a head thing. I understand why we have to be so careful, and I want that—for him. But I guess if I'm honest with myself, it's been tough to be here at the church with things like they are. It's nothing like before, when he was always sneaking down to see me. There's no forbidden element, no heart-pounding thrill stoked by an expiration date. And that's okay. That's not what I wanted. Never has been.
In return, though, I guess I thought we'd feel more...real.
I'm not upset with Luke—or anyone—but he was right when he said that bit about the closet. It feels like we've both got one leg out and one leg in. As I walk through the empty halls and echoing corridors, I can't help thinking of myself somewhere else—working in some San Francisco studio. I see a cloudy sky on a windy, atmospheric day. I'm going in by myself, and I'm going home after dark. Maybe I see Luke in bed that night but—
Don't do that shit. You're not even gonna go there, Vanny.
I had the co-op back home, at least.
Do. Not. Go. There.
I will have Luke here, I tell myself sternly. I feel so sure of it, even as I glance down at my left hand, seeing the bare finger.
I knew this would require patience. That coming back to work, for him, is facing demons. He’s shown me—more in the last day than ever before—how fucked up he feels about it all. And so of course he needs to tread carefully. I take a deep breath, blow it out, and veer off course into one of the restrooms. When I was a kid, I noticed splashing myself with cold water could help me get out of a mood, so that's what I do now. I splash my warm cheeks and wash my hands, and I tell myself I've got this.
I'm a strong dude. I can go with the flow, hang in there.
Yeah, until it's masochism.
Luke would never do that to me. All that shit is over. He's told me he’s in this forever a hundred times, and I believe him. Deep down, I do believe that.
I emerge from the restroom to find a man in a button-up and dark blue dress pants standing nearby. I stop short when I realize he's got a gun holstered at his belt.
"Hey, man." I square my shoulders and try to look as professional as I can even as the blood drains from my face. "You work here?"
"Yessir."
"One of the guards?"
He gives me a smile that's like a smirk, but kinder. Then he holds his hand out. "My name's Frank. I'm a guard, and I'm a buddy of the pastor's. I'm also your bodyguard."
“My bodyguard?”
He laughs, maybe a little awkward. “For a whole year. Contract worker,” he explains. “I used to work for the Secret Service. Long time ago.”
I grin as I try to put an age on him. “Define long time.”
“Think W.”
I let out a low whistle. “You sure you’ve got the right guy? Maybe you’re supposed to be upstairs.”
I point toward the pastor’s suite.
He shakes his head. “No sir. Following you around. At least till he joins you. Then I’m supposed to knock it off.”
I frown, and he chuckles. “You’re important to the pastor. Mr. McDowell Number Two?” He lifts an eyebrow.
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
“Soon,” he says. He frowns and pulls something off his belt. It turns out to be a little screen, like a big, newfangled walkie-talkie. Then he gives me a wink. “Time for me to dip out. Someone’s moving this way right now.”
Luke
I chuckle as Vance blinks at the check, which he's holding up in front of his face. "Holy shit, bro. I've never seen that many zeros. Not in person." He laughs, sounding self-conscious—or maybe it's self-deprecating. Either way, it’s a sound I love. So much that I get up from my chair and step around my office desk and pull him up against me.
"Hey." He gives another soft laugh as he kisses my temple and hugs me back. "Sky babe." His hand runs down my nape and my upper back, the fingers walking down my spine, stopping to knead the pressure points there.
My mouth finds his, and we kiss till I feel almost dizzy. Until I can breathe a little easier. When we pull away to catch a real breath, I hold his head, pressing his chee
k against my throat. "Needed that," I manage.
"I can feel it in your back." I feel V’s cheek round as he smiles. "Shit's tense back there, buddy. Maybe some TENS tonight." He kisses my cheek, and we're grinning at each other.
"Maybe." The word is caught in my throat. We have a night in front of us—a night of just us. We'll be going home together—to my house, which is now our house. Because we're married. In ceremony only for the moment, but we're making it legal soon.
I hug him again. "I get to keep you."
"Yeah." Rayne’s mouth brushes over mine. "You get me for as long as you want."
"Forever," I say.
He inhales deeply. "Fuck, the smell of you. It gets me going every damn time." His lips brush my cheek. "Smells like heaven."
"You do."
"Yeah, if marble dust and paint are heaven." Vance grins, and I want to hug him so close and so hard that there's no air between us.
"Paint is heaven." I kiss a spot of black near his chin, and we're at it again. This is how it is with us—still. If we're sharing air, we want to be inside each other. Tongues and cocks and...I bend him over the desk and reach into his boxer-briefs, teasing his crack with my fingertips.
"It would be a sinful thing to take you right here on my office desk."
He laughs softly. "Wicked."
But he wants it. I can tell he wants it. I was worried he'd be upset I had to part ways with him, but he's been all smiles since I went downstairs to find him, and then brought him up here to show him the eight million dollar check Mrs. Corningwell left. She's a Sunday school teacher with a family trust and apparently also a gay kid, and it turns out she was thrilled about my Big Gay News.
I unbutton V’s pants, drop them down, and do the same thing with his boxer-briefs.
"Oh look,” he laughs, “there's my dick on your dayplanner."
He chuckles as he reaches down to stroke himself, groaning as I wrap my hand around his balls from behind. I can't think of anything to say as I roll them gently in my palm, feeling myself stiffen to the point of pain as I reach around in front of him to grip him by his cock.
"All day," I murmur. "I've been wanting to do this at work for days, but today...I tried to get down to you twice and got called back up both times."
I give him a stroke, my hand bumping into his, which seems to be teasing the tip of his dick.
"Get out of my way," I murmur, and he rests his forearms on my desk, leaning over more as I work his cock.
"Someone's nice and hard,” I murmur. “Let it build up all day, did you?"
“Yeah,” V groans. “Kinda thought I was gonna get some earlier. What’s worth more, preacher guy? My ass or eight million dollars?"
I spread his cheeks and let his balls go for the moment, licking two of my fingers before I work them in between his cheeks, pushing gently toward his hole...and then I'm there, and I'm rubbing him just like I know he wants, and he's moaning.
"Keep it down, Rayne, or someone'll call security."
I remember that I've got a pack of lube in my front pocket. Pervert that I am. I take my hands off him and tear it open. Vance exhales like it's killing him to wait, and I grin as I coat my fingers. "You have no idea how bad I want this."
"Yeah I do." I can hear the grin in his voice, even as he shifts his hips and I can tell he's got his hand around the tip of his dick.
I spread him again, feeling a jolt of satisfaction that this sweet ass is mine forever. Then I press two fingers into him, and Vance groans softly, and I'm sliding deeper into him. I love how he pushes back against me, like a welcome inside. I reward him with a brush of my fingertips over his hot spot, and he nearly comes off the desk.
"Fuuuck." I do it again, just to hear him moan like that.
"You like this?"
Again, and his body trembles. "God, I'm gonna blow...if you keep doing that." His voice shakes.
But I don't. I work my fingers in and out of his hole, stretching gently even as my other hand finds his balls...then his cock, and Vance scoots back more, grunting softly as he clutches my desk.
"Who likes when I squeeze his dick and stuff him at the same time?"
He groans loudly.
"I know. Someone's been waiting all day, and I can't believe I left you alone with such a heavy load." I fondle his balls, and he tightens around my fingers.
"Fuck."
I push in deeper, lighting him up again, and this time he groans so loud it's almost a shout.
"Shhh."
"Sorry." Chills move over his skin.
"Maybe we should get a ball gag for you…”
Rayne just grunts as I continue working his shaft, pushing into him and drawing out...and in again, until I feel him dripping—probably all over my paperwork, I note with a smirk.
"Reach out, V, and grip the back line of the desk."
He does as I ask, even as it pushes his cock against my desktop planner. I drop down, giving his balls a warm lick to reward him for the effort. He rewards me with a rough moan.
"Never thought I'd fill a man's ass on my desk’s top." I’m smiling as I unzip my pants, jerk my boxer-briefs down. “Didn’t think I’d come out for a long time, if ever.” I stroke myself, and I’m seeing stars. That's how much I want him.
"But you came along, made me call off all my plans and make new ones," I say, still working his hole with my fingers. "Exception to the rule,” I breathe. “I don't like surprises that much. I don't like the messiness."
I chuckle softly as I drag my fingers out of him. I lean down and kiss his lower back, and then I'm spreading his cheeks again, and this time it's not fingers that I press against him.
"You’ll have to be really, really quiet, Rayne."
“Okay.” He sounds throaty.
I laugh. "Wait." With my tip still pushed against him, I take off my tie and say, "Reach back." He grabs it, and I whisper, "Bite down on that, baby."
I hope he's done it as I tease him with my tip, and then I'm pushing harder...pushing in. He groans, but it's muffled. I smile as he relaxes for me and I enter slow and steady, filling him inch by mind-blowing inch. Every centimeter makes him breathe a little harder…makes him squeeze a little harder. Then I'm really in; my legs are shaking, and V’s writhing on my desk.
"I think I've done too much receiving and not enough giving lately," I whisper.
He gives another muffled groan, and I can feel his body quiver as I fill him up completely, pushing harder for a second as he shudders, and then drawing myself out more slowly, making him whisper a curse around my tie.
"Oh fuck,” he moans.
"That's right. Feels good enough to hurt a little, doesn't it?"
I stroke his hip, and Vance relaxes more for me, so I can punch back in—not too hard, but enough to make him bark another curse.
"Rayne..." I'm hit by a wave of dizziness as he tightens around me. "Feels so good."
"I feel your legs shake," he murmurs around the tie.
I want to sink down to the floor and shut my eyes and moan. But that's for when I'm bottoming. Those just let go and sweat and hurt and get lit up vibes. Right now, I'm in charge. I need to be in charge the first time that we do this here, and Vance is happy to take me.
I'm in and out...and one thrust in, and rub around until he grunts and shudders...then I'm out again, and I can feel him sweating. I push in more slowly, holding his hip as I tease around that sweet spot deep inside him—something that I know he never gave to anyone but me after we met. And I love that. I can't deny how much I love that he's just mine.
I push back in, and while I'm in, I can't resist reaching around to feel how very slick he is, the way he’s dripping on my planner. When my finger rubs over the tiny slit in his cockhead, he tightens around me, and I can sense him trying not to cry out.
"Yeah...you're gonna come soon. I know, Rayne babe. I know all your tells, and I know if I pull out like this" —I draw out slowly, and continue in a whisper— "and push in hard like this" —he groans— "and th
en rub around like this...you're gonna come. And that's good, because I don't know how long my legs can hold me."
My voice cracks as he scoots back to take me deeper, even as his entire body trembles with the fullness of it.
He groans, "Fuck," and he sounds desperate, and my balls are tighter now, they're fuller, heavy, and I'm pushing around to find the spot, and then I do, and his whole backside quivers, flank to shoulders.
"I love you, Vance. Forever. Even though I left my ring today."
I feel him breathing hard. I'm seeing stars. Sweet Lord, he's so tight and I'm so ready. I try to draw out, but I don't have the self-restraint. I shove back in, and we come at the same time, Vance grunting and me moaning so loudly I bet someone in the lobby could hear it. I'm laughing as my head starts clearing, and Vance says, "Bet the angels up above heard that one." But his voice is rough and ragged.
I move slowly out of him and then, although it makes more sense to clean us up and get this finished before someone knocks, I can't help the need to wrap myself around him. I kiss his damp neck and lick down along his shoulder—that's the one that hurts—and when I do, he groans a little.
I lift my head. "What's the matter?"
He laughs, soft and low. "I sorta pulled it out of socket, I think. Reaching up like this."
"Ah, no." I straighten up. "I'm sorry." I wrap an arm around his torso and help him ease up, and V turns to face me, heavy-lidded as his lips find mine. His arm’s around my shoulders, and his other one around my lower back.
"Probably something I should regret, but worth it, Sky babe." I kiss him again and pull away and let my hand hover over the shoulder.
"This one, right?"
"Don't even know your husband's broken parts," he teases.
"It's this one." My eyes well unexpectedly, and I swallow, and he kisses my cheek and holds me closer.
"Don't worry,” he murmurs. “I'll get on your good insurance, and I'll see somebody. No big deal."
I wrap both arms around him. "I don't want to hurt you."
