Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Illias
“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?”
Illias spent the next week suspended in a state of pure confusion, uncertain of what last night meant for them, how the kiss would affect their relationship, and where their relationship, or lack thereof, would go.
All he knew was that it was agony. Sitting in that space of not knowing, waiting to be told what it all meant.
Pretending that what happened between them was nothing.
Illias knew there wasn’t a reality in which he could keep Cantrell when he was still devoted to the church, yet Illias still went and got attached to a man he should have never gotten involved with in the first place.
He contemplated ending their arrangement to save himself the hurt that would come when Cantrell decided that what they did was too much of a risk, typing and erasing the same message a hundred times over, each time telling himself he was going to send it.
He never did. Not when every other thought was about what might happen when they finally had a moment to themselves.
“Eli,” a faint, feminine voice rippled through Illias’ thoughts. “Eli.” The voice became clearer. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Illias.” He blinked a few times as he came back to reality. “Dude, are you okay?”
“Yeah.” The word came out soft and rough. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, I, uh, I must have zoned out for a minute.”
“A minute? More like the entire ride,” she said, looking at him funny. “Did you even hear a word I said?”
Illias slunk down in the passenger seat. “No.”
Charity pulled into the parking lot of Barb and Lou’s Goodies, Dunwich’s local thrift store. “You want to tell me what’s going on, or am I going to have to pull it out of you?”
He looked down at his hands, fiddling with his mood ring.
“Actually, I’ve been thinking about what you said when I was on my way to my mom’s.
You’re right. I’d rather hide than confront things head on.
” He tongued his cheek and huffed through his nose.
“And now I’ve gotten myself into a situation that I don’t want to run away from, but I am absolutely terrified to face. ”
“Let me guess: Father Cantrell?” she said, parking in a shaded spot. “What happened?”
“He came over for dinner. One thing led to another, and we kissed.” Illias’ stomach filled with the fluttering sensation of hundreds of butterflies.
“It's not like anything I’ve experienced before—and I’ve kissed my fair share of guys,” he added with a playful uptick to his voice, trying to convince himself that this wasn’t a big deal.
“But this was different. He could have had me right then and there if he wanted, and I would have let him, but he just kissed me with this gentleness. Like I was some kind of fragile thing that he didn’t want to break. ”
“That sounds really sweet.” She studied his side profile, eyebrows drawn together. “But guessing from your overall mood right now, something happened, didn’t it?”
“No, and that’s the problem. Since then, I haven’t heard anything from him, and he didn’t visit Nirvana’s on Friday like he’s been doing. And I’m caught in this perpetual state of waiting because I don’t want to come off as being clingy or desperate by reaching out first.”
“Do you think he feels the same way?” Charity turned off the car and gathered her belongings.
Illias shrugged, honestly not having considered that possibility.
“Okay, so text him first then.”
“But—”
“I’ll do it for you if you don’t want to.”
Illias shot up straight. “What? No! Absolutely not.”
“Why? You clearly don’t want to, so hand it over,” she countered, gesturing to give her his phone.
He unbuckled, grumbling under his breath as he pulled his phone from his back pocket. “This is a bad idea.”
“As if you don’t chronically have those,” she said, yanking the phone from him the minute he unlocked it.
Illias watched her with a mixture of curiosity and dread. She stopped typing and Illias held his breath. Seconds later, his phone dinged. A satisfied grin spread across Charity’s lips and she handed his phone back.
“Problem solved, lover boy.”
His heart became a wild thing as he stared down at the two message bubbles that were about to alter his entire night.
Illias
I've been thinking about you. Are you busy tonight? Maybe we can go out to Rose Lake?
"Unknown"
I have coverage for Saint Anthony's tonight so I should be free. 8pm sound okay?
Illias arrived ten minutes early to set up.
He laid out the blanket that Charity found at Barb and Lou’s, then grabbed the wicker basket he purchased from there, kneeling on the blanket to arrange everything.
Two tea plates, a charcuterie board, cups, water, and of course, the food.
On the charcuterie board he put various types of cheese, deli meats, small pickles, crackers, and a bundle of grapes.
Lastly, he pulled out a plate of cookies that he made the previous night.
He remembered the first time he made them, Cantrell had expressed wanting to try them, but didn’t get the opportunity to.
Illias just hoped they weren’t too stale.
Wheels crunched against gravel, and Illias looked over his shoulder to see an ancient, square sedan park next to his coupe.
The dull yellow lights faded with the engine, then Cantrell stepped out.
Illias didn’t bother pretending he wasn’t gawking.
Cantrell’s dark gray button up shirt was rolled up to his elbows, putting his vine of thorns on display, conjuring wild and inappropriate images of his hand around Illias’ neck.
The top three buttons of Cantrell's shirt were undone, revealing a sparse patch of silver hair. Illias’ gaze continued down Cantrell’s body until he got to the black, scuffed leather boots that Cantrell wore.
“I’ve got to say you are incredibly fucking hot dressed like this.”
Cantrell chuckled. “I took a bit of inspiration from my younger years.”
Illias shuffled on the blanket to make room for Cantrell. “Do tell.”
Cantrell let out a small grunt as he got down.
“God, I’m getting old,” he grumbled, angling himself so that his boots were off the blanket when he stretched out his legs.
“I used to wear something like this when I was still in the lifestyle. Although,” he added, wiggling his feet, “these boots have seen much better days.”
“Maybe I can clean them for you,” Illias offered, inching closer. “Have you sit in the recliner while I service them.”
“Service them, hm?” Cantrell raised an eyebrow.
He grabbed the end of the slip chain collar Illias wore, then gave it a small tug. On instinct, Illias leaned closer to loosen it.
“You mean service me, isn’t that right,”—Cantrell’s eyes flickered down to the leather dog collar Illias wore—“puppy?”
Heat gathered in Illias’ face, knowing he only had himself to blame for wearing the collar he bought years ago as a so-called statement piece. “Maybe if you ask nicely.”
Cantrell tightened the chain collar until the links bit into Illias’ neck. He leaned in closer, the scent of frankincense and woodsy cologne filling Illias’ nose. “Don’t think I won’t take you over my knee just because we’re out here.”
“Can’t punish me for nothing, Father,” Illias retorted, enjoying the sharp pinch of pain from the collar.
“I can, because I know how much you enjoy it,” he countered. “You admitted to being a glutton for punishment. That’s reason enough, don’t you think?”
“Then do it,” Illias challenged. “Bend me over right here and now.”
Cantrell leaned back, a subtle smugness on his face. “No.”
Illias blinked a few times. “No?”
“If you want something, you’re going to have to learn how to ask for it,” Cantrell said, releasing the end of the collar.
He reached towards the charcuterie board and plucked a grape from the bundle.
“And until you ask properly, I’m going to enjoy the lovely charcuterie board you put together for me. ”
Illias watched with a slightly gaped mouth, reeling from how quick Cantrell could change gears at a blink of an eye.
Determined not to waste time by wondering how he was so good at it, Illias decided to play into Cantrell’s little game.
Without a word, Illias straddled Cantrell’s lap and grabbed his wrist before he could pop another grape into his mouth.
Illias wrapped his lips around the finger and thumb that held the grape, sliding his tongue between the two digits to dislodge it.
Cantrell slowly pulled his fingers out of Illias’ mouth and then cupped his cheek, resting the spit slick thumb on his mouth as Illias chewed.
Illias swallowed then parted his lips, inviting Cantrell’s thumb back into his mouth.
“Do you like having something in your mouth, pet?” Cantrell murmured.
Illias answered the question by sucking and swirling his tongue around it, mimicking the way he would suck Cantrell’s cock if given the chance. Cantrell pushed his thumb further into Illias’ mouth, pupils blown and eyes dark with want.
“Such a pretty pet,” Cantrell praised. He pulled his thumb from Illias mouth, then gripped his chin, pulling him closer. “My pretty pet,” he whispered against Illias’ lips.
“Yours,” Illias agreed without second thought. “Wholly.” He pressed a quick kiss to Cantrell’s lips. “Utterly.” To his cheek. “Completely.” His jaw. “Yours,” Illias whispered in Cantrell’s ear.
“That’s right, mine,” Cantrell breathed.
Electricity shot down Illias’ spine. He cupped the back of Cantrell’s head, then pressed their foreheads together. “Say it again,” Illias pleaded, wanting, needing to hear it again. Needing to know Cantrell meant it.
“You’re mine. I may not be able to give you—”