Illias let out a strangled cry, orgasm washing over him in a wave of white heat. He slumped against the couch, head buzzing and legs weak. Cantrell’s movements slowed, then he eased his fingers out of Illias. He whimpered at the sensation of Cantrell leaving him empty.
“You did so well, pet,” Cantrell praised, pressing a kiss to Illias’ spine. “Now, let me take care of you.”
Sitting in a warm bath while Cantrell—dressed in a pair of Illias’ sweatpants and one of his shirts—knelt next to the tub was not what Illias expected when Cantrell offered to take care of him. He imagined Cantrell joining him in the shower and maybe some additional fun. Instead, Cantrell helped Illias out of his work clothes. Ran a hot bath and actually washed his body. Even listened to step-by-step instructions on how to wash his hair. Admittedly, Illias didn’t know how to react. Aftercare wasn’t a foreign concept to him by any means, but this was different. It went deeper than surface level praise and casual affection; Cantrell listened and cared for him in a way no one else had. Touched him with a gentle attentiveness that saidyou’re safe with me.
“Still awake pup?” Cantrell asked, running a washcloth across Illias’ shoulders.
“Mm-hmm,” he hummed on the verge of falling asleep.
“I think it’s time to get out and into bed.” Cantrell squeezed out the rag and laid it across the edge of the tub, then stood and grabbed a fresh towel from the shelf above the toilet. “Pull the plug for me, darling.”
Illias blushed at the new nickname. He pulled the stopper then got to his feet, reaching for Cantrell on instinct. Illias stepped onto the plush mat and Cantrell began to towel him off. Oncedry, Cantrell wrapped the towel around Illias’ waist and kissed him all too briefly. Illias leaned forward, wanting another one. Cantrell smiled, kissing him again. Slow and soft. Like a lover would. Like how Illias used to imagine Jesus kissing Judas before they, too, were ripped apart. Cantrell pulled away. “It’s time for bed, darling.”
“Stay,” Illias whispered, moving to kiss Cantrell for a third time.
“I can’t,” Cantrell mumbled, pressing closer only to pull away.
“You can.” Illias looked into his eyes. “Just be with me tonight.”
Cantrell opened his mouth, then closed it, his eyes reflecting the battle within himself. Illias cupped his cheek. “It’s late,” he reasoned, thumb stroking Cantrell’s cheek. “Come to bed with me. Please.”
“Okay,” Cantrell breathed, turning his head and kissing the palm of Illias’ hand, just as he had done to Cantrell. “Let’s go to bed then.”
Illias smiled and stepped to the side to go around Cantrell. Grabbed his hand, pulling him along to the bedroom. Cantrell followed wordlessly, nothing more on his face than a simple tiredness and a smile that made Illias’ heart feel like a wild bird. He was sure exhaustion was written across his face too, but he hoped Cantrell could see past it. See how much this meant. To have Cantrell in his home, in his bed, well into the night with the promise of tomorrow. The unspokenyes,I want you, I think I love youhanging in the air as they curled around each other, limbs tangling beneath the covers.
Sunlight trickled in through the cracked blinds and bathed his face in warmth. He blinked against the soft light. As he came to, the sinking feeling of being alone rose up through his stomach. Illias rolled over to find an empty, cold, disheveled space beside him. Illias knew there was a probability Cantrell would leave at the first sign of daylight, but it didn’t make the pain any less. Cantrell’s responsibilities came first. The church came first. It always would when pitted against him. Illias’ chest ached as he laid in bed, staring at the empty space. Knowing Cantrell would never be able to keep what they had while belonging to the church. At some point, a decision would have to be made. An ultimatum proposed. One that Illias already knew the answer to.
Tossing the blankets to the side, Illias forced himself to the edge of the bed. Still half asleep, he reached blindly for his phone, expecting it to be in its usual spot. In its place was a piece of paper. He picked it up and unfolded it.
I’m sorry I left without waking you up. You looked so peaceful sleeping, I didn’t want to disturb you. I hope you don’t mind, but I left wearing the clothes you gave me last night and one of your baseball caps. I’ll bring them back when I see you again. See you soon, darling.
Imagining Cantrell leaving dressed in Illias’ clothes brought a hint of a smile forward. They had passed the threshold of whattheir arrangement was supposed to be. Created something that neither of them could keep, that would hurt more than falling from Heaven when it came to a screeching end. What if,he stared down at the note, it didn’t have to end? If I told him, it could change everything.
In the back of his mind, the voice of reason reminded him that Cantrell was, first and foremost, Father Cantrell. He owed his life to the church. Dedicated years of hard work to keeping Saint Anthony’s from crumbling. He would always pick Saint Anthony’s—and therefore the church before he picked Illias. Regardless of how either of them felt, without the church, Cantrell couldn’t keep Saint Anthony’s.
But what if?
What if Saint Anthony’s didn’t belong to Revived Faith?
Mind racing with possibilities, Illias tucked the note away in the nightstand drawer for safe keeping. He noticed his phone next to the wall and grabbed it off the charger. Unlocking it, he went to his contacts and clicked on the one name he never thought he would be calling first thing in the morning. He held his breath as the phone rang.
“Hello?” Henry’s sleep-heavy voice grunted.
“Hey, sorry about calling so early, but, um, do you think that you and Mom can meet me for breakfast?” Illias blurted out before he could talk himself out of it.
Illias’ body froze when Henry didn’t respond right away. Then he let out a short, breathy laugh as if he couldn’t believe Illias asked. Frankly, Illias couldn’t believe he was asking either. “Yeah…yeah, of course,” Henry said, elevating the budding panic in Illias’ core. “Where at?”
“Same cafe as last time,” Illias answered. “Meet there in thirty?”
“We’ll see you then.”
“Awesome. See you then.”
When Illias arrived at the cafe, there were only four other people inside besides his parents. Illias figured that it would be quiet given the time of day, but he didn’t expect it to be empty. However, he was thankful for the quiet. It meant that he could speak with his parents in peace. Before joining his parents, he went to the counter to grab something light for breakfast. While he wasn’t exactly hungry, he knew it would be best to have something on his stomach when he talked to Cantrell. Equipped with a small hazelnut coffee and a cinnamon cake muffin, Illias headed over to his parents.
“Morning,” he greeted, setting his breakfast on the table. “How are you?” he asked his mom, kissing her on the cheek then sitting down.
“I’m good. What about you, hon? You’re never up this early, is everything okay?”
