Illias pushed noodles around on his plate. “Having dinner,” he replied succinctly.
“No, I mean—” Cantrell sighed and looked towards the small window that showed the backyard. Fears he should have had from the beginning wormed their way to the surface of his thoughts. Fear of being caught, of losing everything, of being left hollow and broken again swirled through his thoughts. “I shouldn’t be here.”
“I want you here,” Illias said, his voice just as small.
“Why?” The word came out harsher than Cantrell intended. Age old temper coiling through his core. “You don’t know anything about me other than my station and it makes you—”
“That’s not why,” Illias cut in, voice razor sharp.
Cantrell glanced at him. Noticed the light tremble of his hand. His white-knuckled grip on the fork.
“I didn’t ask you to come over for that. I didn’t invite you for dinner to get anythingout of it. I invited you over for dinner because I want to get to know you. I want to know what awfulthings you believe you’ve done that you feel like you have to make amends for by dedicating your life to the church. I want to know what kind of man you are outside the collar. I want you for who you are, not what you are.”
“YouThis will ruin everything that I have worked so hard to become.” Cantrell voice wavered slightly and he looked away. “And yet, I can’t let you go. I’ve become so entangled with you that I can’t find where I end and you begin. You consume my every thought and my mind is never calmer than it is when I’m with you.”
Illias’ fork clattered against his plate, chair screeching against the linoleum floor as he stood and rounded the table. Cantrell’s pulse pounded in his ears and Illias’ hands were on his face as their lips collided, their passion speaking loud and clear. Neither of them cared if it crossed the line, if it shattered the illusion of Cantrell’s finely held together vows. All that mattered was pouring everything neither of them could say into a singular action. An action that saidI’m here, don’t leave, let me soothe your worries. Cantrell’s hands found Illias’ face, holding him close. Every thought except for the sensation of Illias’ lips on his left Cantrell’s head. Every worry, every doubt, emptied in this moment.See?said the kiss.I want you, I want you, I want you.
Cantrell hesitated pulling away despite the burn in his lungs. He wanted to savor every single millisecond of this moment. Bottle it up and keep it somewhere safe, somewhere sacred, because this is what Heaven was. Illias’ soft lips moving against his. Illias’ beard pricking the palm of Cantrell’s hand.
Cantrell’s head began to swim and he pulled away; slow and afraid that it could all shatter. He rested his forehead against Illias’ and listened to the sound of his breathing. Labored and soft. “Illias.” Cantrell’s voice was weak and unsteady.
“Tonight,” Illias whispered, nose brushing against Cantrell’s. “Just be a man, nothing more.”
Cantrell stood up, knocking the chair over in his haste, and pulled Illias in for another kiss. Illias melted into it, pressed himself as close as physically possible. Cantrell backed Illias into the island. Savored the feeling of Illias moaning into his mouth. Cantrell wanted to press against Illias, feel every inch of him against his own body, yet he couldn’t bring himself to go that far just yet.
Illias’ hands dropped from Cantrell’s face, trailing them down his chest and around his waist. Cantrell grabbed Illias’ hands and pulled away, drawing a whine from the younger man. “Right here,” he rasped. “No lower.”
Illias hooked his fingers into Cantrell’s belt loops and pulled their hips together. “Like that?” he purred.
“Fucking brat,” he groaned and captured Illias’ lips again.
There was a carnal, animalistic nature in the way they kissed. Wet and messy, teeth knocking against each other, tongues getting in the way in the heat to get closer, impossibly, infinitely closer. All the grace from before was gone; pure, unfiltered need took its place.
He needed to stop. Place distance between them before he went too far. Took too much. But, Cantrell made no effort to do such a thing. The feel of Illias’ body pressed against his, the muffled noises he made, emptied Cantrell’s head of any and all hesitations. Replaced them with loosely held together rationale that stood directly on the line between damnation and salvation. They were still clothed. He wasn’t touching any part of Illias that he hadn’t before. He was still within the confines of his vows.
Just be a manreplayed in Cantrell’s mind at the mere thought of vows. He wasn’t just a man anymore. He hadn’t been in a long time, but Christ, it was electrifying to pretend. Act as though he could have this, that he wouldn’t feel an immense rush of guilt in the dead of night when he lay awake, thinking of Illias. Of the life they could have if Cantrell wasn’t who he was.Please,he beggedto himself or God, he wasn’t sure anymore,please, let me have him.
Illias pulled away and Cantrell tried to chase, desperate to hold on to the idea that he was only a man. Illias dropped his head to the crook of Cantrell’s neck then pressed hot, gentle kisses to it. Cantrell’s head lolled to the side to allow Illias more space and groaned, “God above, I want you.”
“You can have me,” he mumbled. “I’m already yours.”
Cantrell’s heart skipped at the rawness of Illias’ voice, the sentiment behind the last sentence. Cantrell tangled his fingers in the hair on the back of Illias’ head and tugged him back so he could attach his mouth to his neck instead.
“You are perfect,” Cantrell said between kisses. “So fucking perfect.” The taste of sweat spread across his lips. “You drive me mad. All I can think about is you.” He rolled his hips against Illias’. “And all the depraved things I want to do to you.” He bit down on Illias’ pulse point drawing a hoarse cry.
“Please,” Illias’ grip tightened around the belt loops. “You can do anything you want to me. Fuck, I want you to ruin me.”
Cantrell brought his head up to look at Illias. “I will, believe me, I will. Just not tonight.”
Illias’ eyes danced with different emotions, his expression caught in the middle of uncertainty and hopefulness. “So, you’ll come back?”
Cantrell lifted his hand from Illias’ waist then pushed back a sweat-dampened piece of hair from his forehead. “For as long as you’ll have me.”
“Will you stay the night?” Illias asked, eyes silently begging Cantrell to stay.
Tied between savoring his time with Illias and knowing he needed to return to the rectory or risk Rier’s questioning, Cantrell rested his forehead on Illias’. “Not tonight, but one day,” Cantrell promised. “Let’s just enjoy this for now.”
“Okay.” Illias chewed on his bottom lip. “Is there a possibility we can enjoy more than this?”
