“I’m thorough,” he corrected, kissing a path lower, voice husky. “Wanna make sure I taste every inch of you.”
My breath hitched when he kissed just below my breast. “You know you’re actually making more of a mess,” I teased, even as my hand drifted lazily down my spine.
“That’s the goal,” he breathed.
He placed one more kiss on my hip, then he settled beside me again to share more ambrosia. We took a few more bites, then he cleared his throat.
“Where’d you learn to talk like that?” he asked. “All that…claiming the room, body is mine, body is yours.”
I hummed, taking it slow as I swallowed another bite. This…it was all fun and games until I had to talk aboutwhyI did this—then things got a little dicey.
“You don’t have to,” Silas started, but I cut him off.
“No—I want to.” I put down my fork and took a deep breath, curling closer to Silas. “After my um…after my suicide attempt in undergrad, I found a sex-positive group in the city for folks recovering from purity culture. We’d talk about theology and embodiment and trauma and sex…about how much damage had been done by people twisting scripture.”
Silas’s arm tightened around me. He wasn’t eating anymore either.
“We weren’t trying to be edgy,” I went on. “Just…trying to make ourselves whole, you know? Trying to make our way back to God.”
Silas didn’t say anything right away; just kissed the top of my head, his lips soft and still against my hair.
“And I guess that’s how you became…a sexorcist,” he said after a beat.
I couldn’t help but laugh—and I could feel how Silas reveled in it, in knowing exactly when to ease the tension…when to listen. I looked up at him, finding that he was just staring—and I grinned.
“You really do love me, don’t you?” I asked.
“Did you just notice?”
I snorted. “I recall youmentioning itwhile you were fucking my brains out…but I think it just clicked.”
“I do somethin’?”
I chewed on my lip, searching for the words. “You just…youknow me.I don’t get how, but you know me better than…anyone?”
He hummed. “Don’t tell Delilah.”
I grinned, warmth blooming in my chest. “I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to welcome you to the fan club.”
“Even if she doesn’t get to be president anymore?”
“You’ll never take that title from her.”
He chuckled, shaking his head—then he tilted my head up to kiss me again…slow and chaste, even with both of us naked. When he pulled back, he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.
“You talk about God different than anybody I’ve ever met,” he said.
“I just don’t think God should be in a box,” I shrugged. “I don’t think any of us should be. I mean…if we’re made in His image, didn’t He make us this way for a reason?”
Silas nodded as if he’d never heard something that made more sense. “You really believe that,” he said.
“With everything in me,” I murmured, resting my head on his chest again. “Not all the time. Not without doubt. But…yeah. I believe God made me…messy and loud and complicated and hungry. And I think He prefers to leave it a bit of a mysterywhyexactly He did that.”
Silas was quiet, stroking my back. “And it doesn’t scare you?”
I smiled. “Not anymore.”
We lay there a while, the air thick with moonlight and the scent of marshmallows, everything warm and easy. I let my fingers trail along the curve of his ribs. He smelled like sweat and sawdust, and I’d never felt so safe.
