Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Elias
As Ronan walked out of the church doors, my heart broke that much more. Each step he took and reliving what he put me through made that visceral feeling of my chest ripping apart feel tangible.
I couldn’t breathe.
It was so stupidly hot in here.
Air…I just needed some fresh air.
I was an avid runner, but now it felt like the devil was chasing me as I bolted through the back door of the church. I couldn’t get enough oxygen to my addled brain. It was like I was suffocating on my past, choking on my memories, and drowning from pushing him away.
He deserved it, I reminded myself, wiping the tears that refused to stop falling down my face. He didn’t belong to me, and I didn’t belong to him.
“I belong to my Lord and Savior,” I whispered, trying to focus on my clasped hands as I bent at the knee to pray.
The wet concrete was unforgiving and abraded my skin. It was my punishment for my sins, thoughts, and body’s betrayal. I needed a chastity belt. If I caged my sex, perhaps it would not be so easily swayed by the voice of temptation.
“We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and…we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.”
I chanted the bible verse over and over, rocking back and forth.
“Father Cross?”
I jolted upright at the sound behind me. It was the custodian. Glancing down at my clasped hands, I gasped. Quickly hiding my hands under my robe, I turned to Decan.
“Ah…Thank you, Decan. The hours slipped away from me out here. I, uh…was just getting some fresh air. It is quite hot in the sanctuary today. I apologize. I will take my leave now.”
Decan was a young man. He’d been working here for a few years now, having been offered the job by his mother, our secretary. Georgia had been here since before my feet ever graced the doorways. Decan was sometimes careless, and the cleaning could be done better, but I was not one to fuss about trivial matters.
Besides, I enjoyed a bit of cleaning. It was calming to wipe down the altar and spruce up the quiet area. Whether that was scraping off excess wax from the white candles that adorned the crucifix erected strong and tall in the center or blessing new water for the holy basin for cleansing…it didn’t matter to me.
Cleansing Ronan’s wild, untamed, dark, curly hair on his head would be…no, I was not going there.
But I must admit, he certainly looked more feral now than when he was a teenager. That was evident in his strengthened build, darkened gray eyes, and sharp points to his stubble-covered jawline. This man wasn’t a silly boy. He was a dangerous male.
How can you come back to me and create such chaos in my heart again? And why am I so breakable that I am falling prey to these thoughts and painful memories?
It wasn’t fair, but this was the life we were given. True peace was acceptance of the things we could not control and understanding that God would lead his army of the faithful to true divinity.
The parish housing wasn’t far from my place of worship, and Father Franklin had gifted me these living quarters years ago when my broken soul arrived on his doorstep. It wasn’t much, but it was mine. I felt true peace here, untouched by memory or temptations. I kept the space plain. There was a bed in my bedroom, a kitchen with simple food, and a living area with a soft couch, bookshelf, and television.
Undoing my collar, I carefully placed my robes to the side and undid my alb. I wondered if Ronan could see I was no longer the skinny man he once knew. If the muscles I’d worked hard for would somehow shine through the thick coating of my cassock…
Shaking my head, I sighed.
No. I do not care what he saw…it is not my place to care.
When my body was bare, I walked up the few stairs toward the shower. The cool water would help to soothe the heat lingering in my blood. I felt like a flickering candle that refused to extinguish its flame fully.
The water was indeed a shock to my system, and the chilling level I placed the handle on made me shiver. I stared down at my goose-bumped skin, watching the pebbling and feeling some relief from the heat fueling my emotions, and body parts finally started to calm.
“Come closer. Let me feel you. Let me remind you what you’ve been craving.”
No…
I gasped at the intrusive thoughts clouding my mind, cranking the water dial colder, closing my eyes, and accepting the burn in the freezing frigid shower.
“I belong to God. I belong to God…I…”
My chant echoed around me within the shower walls, but the water’s chill warmed when my mind refused to cease the swirl of thoughts and his words—those dangerous words of sin and temptation.
“No…not again. Just leave me be!” I cried, wanting to tear my hardening length off.
Pressing my hands firmly against the wall of the shower, I shook violently, unable to stop imagining Ronan’s voice and dark presence. He was tangible. It was as if he was right here in the shower with me.
“Give in to temptation, Mon Pur. I promise you will be on your knees for my touch. Let me taste you. All these years, I have wondered what the tang of your sweat would be like when you trembled beneath my cock.”
My cruel mind was the biggest sinner. Ronan’s naked, beautiful, hardened, strong body was in front of me, beckoning me closer, just like at the confessional. He was heaven-wrapped in sin. My personalized damnation to drag me the rest of the way to the hell I deserved.
“Stop…please,” I begged, helpless to this fantasy.
He reached forward, his strong tattooed hands brushing my skin so softly, it was like a whisper against my flesh, and my cock bounced in praise of his teasing near touch–aching to feel his hands, his mouth, his body.
“Do you really want that, Elias? Your body says differently.”
I shook my head, smashing my fist against the tile, feeling the crack of the material beneath my clenched hand.
“Damn, these thoughts! I belong to God. Please…rid me of these sins.”
Despite my prayers, the image my mind conjured up of Ronan beckoned me, the fantasy getting closer, his ghost-like body lowering to his knees, his mouth open wide before me.
The heat of his breath haunted me, and I began to pant.
I couldn’t handle this. I was not safe in my parish any longer.
I was damned in my one sanctuary.
“You ruin everything you touch,” I accused.
The desperation, lust, and pain prominent in my voice was a confession in itself. “Every part of my life, you darken with your presence. Leave me alone!”
Ronan chuckled, that dark, deep sound vibrating through him and straight to my balls.
“Fuck, Mon Pur. Not so pure anymore, are you? You are begging for my touch. Praying for your own damnation.”
I shook my head again, the sting on my hand registering as the blood dripped down the wall from the slash on my palm.
“Give in to me, Elias.”
His hand gripped his powerful cock. Looking away, I fought the urge to keep my eyes glued on how he stroked the soft skin from tip to base. I…wanted to taste him. Heat bloomed in my stomach, and that fire radiated through me from my head to my toes. My body took over, pleasure racking through me again and again.
“No…no. I don’t want this! I don’t want you,” I said, desperately backing away from Ronan’s wispy image and radiant smile.
“Too late, Mon Pur.”
I followed his gaze in horror. The shower wall was painted with my seed, the white substance dripping down my tip like tears as they fell into the drain.
It did not matter if I washed this away. The sin branded me as much as the heat that burned through me.
I…was not pure. Not anymore. Maybe I never was.
Running from my feelings, past, and sins wasn’t an option, but the one thing I couldn’t be free of…was him. He would always come back to dim my light. I couldn’t pretend around him. He was right.
I was the biggest sinner because I lived a life of lies.
Stained with my own sin and now my blood, I sighed in defeat, letting the pain of my stupid hand throb. I deserved it.
I rifled through my closet one-handed, grabbing a simple black T-shirt and a pair of jeans. I needed to have my knuckles looked at by Doctor Mitter.
He would likely give me a few stitches, call me an idiot after accepting my lame excuse, and then call it a day.
But at least this way, I would have a cover-up for mass tomorrow.
I couldn’t exactly say, ‘I smashed the tile while thinking impure thoughts in the shower.’