“Please stop for just two seconds—” Goldie wrenched the pan away, throwing it aside. He straddled Day’s hips and sat down to pin him. He grabbed his thrashing hands and pushed them to the floor. “Fuck! Look, the cops are probably on their way from that shot—”
Day bucked up against Goldie. “You don’t understand! It won’t stop! I have to make it fucking stop! All the filth, the lies, the noise—”
“Listen tome,” Goldie said sternly. “Nothing else, just me, baby. I’m right here. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”
“I’m not the one in danger, angel!” Day pushed up again. “You are!”
“Baby, look, we can… mmmph!” Goldie couldn’t hold back a moan when Day’s very hard cock pressed up against his ass. He couldn’t ignore the lusty shivers the unexpected friction provided and how his own dick was inclined to respond, and he glared. “Really? Right now?”
“Man has his wants as God intended!”
“You’re trying to murder Flo!”
“The luscious wealth of your body is writhing on top of me!”
“I’m not fucking writhing—” Goldie choked as Florence’s thick arm hooked around his neck, dragging him backward off of Day. Goldie clawed at Florence’s grip, and he desperately gasped, trying to breathe. His head immediately throbbed from the lack of oxygen, and he was already disoriented from getting clubbed with the pickle statue.
Day was up, and he had the frying pan. He darted around Florence like a shadow to swing at him from behind.
Thethunkof the frying pan connecting with Florence’s skull made Goldie grimace, but Florence’s arm fell away as he collapsed. Goldie gasped for air, wheezing as he whirled around to confront Day.
Florence was still alive, on his knees and clutching his bleeding head.
Day was circling him like a wolf ready to strike, and he lifted the frying pan high, his eyes far-off and dark.
“Mercy!” Goldie shouted. “Wait! Have mercy!”
Day flinched, and he didn’t bring the pan down. He froze in place, poised to deal a lethal blow. “What?”
“Doesn’t God say to have mercy?” Goldie pleaded. “To forgive one another? Forgive their trespasses and all that?”
“That man was going to kill us,” Day spat. “Hands that shed innocent blood—”
“But he didn’t! You stopped him.Youstopped him, baby. So, you’d be killing him for something he didn’t actually do!”
“What?” Day’s brow wrinkled up, and he shook his head. “Stop it, angel. You’re trying to confuse me.”
“No, I’m just trying to save my really, really shitty friend’s life.”
“What about what he did to you? To all the others he’s hurt? The filth flowing from his lips is an unclean river!” Day lowered the pan, and he held his forehead, clearly in pain. “No. I… I have to do this!”
“Baby, please. No.” Goldie was afraid to make a move because it might spur Day into action, but he hesitantly offered out his hand to Day. “Let him go. I know the mission is important, I do, but we can do the right thing a different way.”
Day refused to take his hand. “No, there is only Father’s way.”
“Baby, no!”
“Stop,” Day ordered firmly. “You’re not going to talk me out of this, angel, and you’re only delaying the execution of God’s wrath.”
“Forgive…” Florence gurgled. “Forgive… me…”
“What?” Day spat, yanking Florence’s ponytail and jerking his head back.
“Let him talk!” Goldie begged. “Hey, Flo, you got something to say, you better say it fuckin’ fast.”
“Forgive me,” Florence gasped, sputtering through the blood dripping down his face. “Please. I pray to God and Jesus Christ to please forgive me for my sins. I… I wanna be better. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I am begging for forgiveness, please!”
“God may forgive you,” Day snarled as he raised the frying pan, “but I fucking won’t.”
