13. Matteo
THIRTEEN
MATTEO
He’s all I think about now.
In the time since that dinner, all I think about is Theo and the filthy things my imagination comes up with. It’s entirely unwanted, but I can’t stop it, just an unwilling participant in witnessing my own downfall.
Okay, my downfall might be a bit of an exaggeration, but that’s what I’ve been reduced to. Dramatics and apocalyptic scenarios wherein I give in to the bodily pleasures my body’s yearning for. I may be a priest, and technically no kind of carnal pleasure is allowed, but I’m a man. Those traditions seem outdated to me. Of course, I’ve touched myself in the last ten years since my ordination, but I’ve never done it with someone in mind.
But that’s how I wake up every morning—hard and aching—with lingering dreams of Theo and all the things we could do together.
Me on my knees for him as he feeds me his cock, gagging when he hits the back of my throat.
Me on his lap with my hands dug into his hair, taking every inch of him as I desperately ride him.
Me on my back as he plows into me, accepting his sweet lips on mine as he kisses me through it.
To feel a man inside me again after all these years, I?—
No!
No. I can’t. Thinking about it is just as much of a sin. It’s not because Theo’s a man, I know my God, and He doesn’t give a fuck about that. But I made Him a promise and that’s the issue. I vowed my entire life to him—body and soul—and said I would never love anything the way I love Him. I would never give myself over and divide my heart. Priesthood is a sacred gift and not having a romantic or physical relationship is supposed to make me dedicate myself more easily to Him and the people I serve.
The last time I let someone get in between God and me, it ended with finding myself at the end of a bottle. Without God, I’m nothing, and life… It becomes too much. I don’t blame Jacob for my drinking, but the situation I found myself in with him certainly didn’t help.
I itch for a drink. I crave one. The sweet numbness that’s nothing but a memory calls to me. It would be so easy to make this feeling go away, the feeling of being so completely out of control and at war with my thoughts. But I won’t. God is here for me. Even though He doesn’t speak to me, His grace presses a holy hand down on my shoulder and keeps me steady.
I can be attracted to someone and not act on it. That’s fine. Whatever I’m feeling for Theo will fade. I’ve just failed at even attempting to make them do so. I’ve continued going on our walks, planning the Fall Festival, and growing closer to him with each passing day.
He’s a wonderful man. He’s witty, endearing, and charitable. That sadness that called me to him in the first place is gone. I see glimpses of it when we’re around other people, but when it’s just the two of us, it’s like he’s a different person. I’m helping him, right? That’s why I’ve continued on the secret path we’ve started despite knowing I need space. I’m called to serve and that’s exactly what I’m doing.
I think of that brilliant smile of his, something more than raw physical attraction churning in my gut. It almost feels like?—
“Marcy?”
My call rings through the church and it takes a second for Marcy to pop out from behind the altar, holding a handful of candles. “Yes, Father?”
“Would you mind attending the planning meeting for the Fall Festival for me today?” I ask as I finish putting the last of tomorrow’s programs in the pews. “I’m not feeling great.”
She cocks a brow at me. “Well, you look just fine to me, sugar.”
“It’s a stomach thing,” I lie lamely. “I could also cancel if you can’t.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” she huffs, getting up and wiping her hands on her skirt. “Toughen up, Father. There’s a festival to plan.”
My jaw drops. “Marcy. It’s one meeting.”
“See? That’s where it starts,” she says with a shake of her head. “First we make excuses?—”
“I’m not making excuses!”
“—and then we neglect our responsibilities,” she finishes, clapping her hands in finality. “You’re going to the meeting and I’m going to see little Simon. He’s finally on the mend.”
“We could trade?”
“Father, seriously, are you okay?” she asks, concern on her face as she makes her way to me. “Are you and Theo not gettin’ along?”
Only if you count wanting to get thoroughly railed as getting along.
I shake my head, letting out a deep breath. “We are. Sorry, I’m just a bit off today.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile and pats my arm. “Chin up, Father. I’m goin’ out, and you won’t see me until Mass tomorrow mornin’. Oh, there he is!”
We both turn to see Theo walk in through the main entrance, his planning binder tucked securely against his chest. He blushes, shifting from one foot to the other. “Am I early?”
Marcy shakes her head. “Not at all, sugar. I was just leavin’. Now, you take good care of our Father here. He’s feelin’ a bit under the weather.”
I don’t miss the muttered ‘ apparently’ that follows her sentence. She leaves the church, leaving Theo and I behind. He holds out his binder and juts his chin in the direction of the altar. “Want to work in the rectory?”
I nod, knowing it’s the best place to get everything done. I lead us back there and settle us in the kitchen. Immediately, Theo starts laying out all the papers and plans we’ve been discussing over the last two weeks. We’re close to finishing all the planning, the event is only a week away, and I don’t know if I’m happy or sad about that.
“So, how was your morning?” he asks as he gets up and walks to the coffee maker. “Want one?”
I shake my head. “No, thank you. It was good. Marcy and I got set up for Mass on Sunday.”
“What are you going to talk about?” he questions, always so curious about my homilies. “Last week’s lesson on acts of service was great.”
“You’re looking for more insider information?” I tease, knowing I shouldn’t, but it comes so naturally with him. When he sits back down, I shrug. “I’m not too sure.”
He smiles warmly, resting his hand on top of mine for a brief second. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something amazing like you always do.”
My heart does a little flip, and my cock does a little jerk. Both simultaneously knock me back to reality. The reality is that I’m lusting after a married man. I need to keep this strictly professional but that’s a joke.
If you wanted to be professional, you still wouldn’t be going on walks with him.
Damn it. I need to get my scattered mind focused on the task at hand. “So, what’s on our agenda for today?”
He doesn’t seem to notice my curt tone or swift change in subject. He looks down at his notes and hands me a piece of paper. “These are the list of local vendors that’ll donate their time. Earl’s being stubborn and won’t provide the meat for the barbeque because you still haven’t opened confessions to Tuesdays, but I told him you’d put in a good word with the big guy if he helped us.”
“And did that work?” I laugh as I glance down at the vendor list.
He shrugs. “The twenty pounds of chuck sitting in my fridge thinks it did.”
“Smart.” I reach for his binder and spin it to look at the next page. “How are the booths coming along?”
“We’ve got the typical festival booths—bobbing for apples, face painting, ring toss—but we’re still looking for one more big-ticket item.”
“Any thoughts?” His pale face instantly turns a pretty shade of red. He nibbles on his bottom lip, eyes avoiding mine. “Theo? Am I going to like this?”
“Marcy said you should do a kissing booth,” he blurts out, looking mortified to even suggest it. “She thinks people would pay big money to get a kiss from someone as sexy as you. But she was joking, obviously. Kissing a priest is weird.”
Yeah, there goes my cock getting interested again.
I find it difficult to swallow because of his words, my hand clenching around my pants in an attempt to keep myself from doing something stupid. “Sexy?”
“Her words, not mine,” he says quickly with a half-hearted smile. “But, I mean, look at you.”
I know I should steer this conversation in a different direction, but I’m too interested to hear what he has to say. “Go on.”
His eyes widen. “What?”
“Go on,” I repeat, gesturing for him to continue. “What do you see when you look at me?”
“I…” He gulps, all the color draining from his face. He licks his lips, and my eyes track the movement. “I… You’re attractive.”
Those words fuel the ego I didn’t know I had. I know what I look like but hearing Theo admit it is like a straight shot to my repressed vanity. The Lord would be disgraced at my lack of humility but fuck that. I only want to see myself through Theo’s eyes, the desperate side of me that wants him to prove he wants me too.
But he doesn’t.
“Why?” I press, a hard edge to my voice I haven’t heard in a long time. “Tell me why Marcy thinks people would want to kiss me.”
He looks a bit startled at my forwardness but continues. “You have a nice body. Tall, strong, muscular. You’re face…”
“Yes?”
“It’s beautiful,” he finishes, breathless as he wets his bottom lip again. “I think you might be the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.”
That’s a lie because the most beautiful man on Earth is sitting across from me, looking at me like he could possibly be feeling what I am too.
He’s married.
You’re a priest.
It’s just a stupid attraction.
I clear my throat to change the subject because the electric charge in the air is something I can’t deal with right now. “Well, we should?—”
“And your lips look really soft.” My breath hitches, and I can’t imagine he’s leaning forward. “I think you smell like the grass after fresh rain but that’s what you feel like too. Like comfort. Like I’m safe with you.”
He’s the opposite of safe with me right now because all I want to do is lunge across the table and devour his mouth. He needs to stop himself before I do every dirty thing that’s been racing through my head these last two weeks.
“Yes, Theo, fuck me harder!”
I curse myself and dig my fingernails into my hand until they bite my skin. Poor Theo is just a victim of my lust. He never asked to be the object of my attention. This is friendship for him, and I know how important that is. I can’t taint this and make it something filthy.
So, I take a nice deep breath and do my best to smile as if I don’t want him to fuck me. “Thank you. So, while we’ve decided a kissing booth might be successful, it’s probably inappropriate.”
He seems to snap out of his daze and chuckles weakly. “Yeah, I know. That’s what I told Marcy. I’m pretty sure she was joking. Would you be willing to get dunked? It’s safe, I promise. You won’t drown or anything.”
I’d be willing to drown in your cum.
“Um, yes, that’s fine,” I cough out, pushing away that wayward thought. It suddenly feels too hot in here, and I pull at my collar, the usually comforting presence suffocating me. “Do you think we could call it on this meeting? I’m really not feeling well.”
His face falls. There’s understanding in his eyes, but it’s laced with disappointment. “Oh, yeah. I understand. Is there anything I can do for you?”
Feed me your cock.
“No,” I say in a rush, getting up when he does. “I’m sorry for the short notice?—”
“It’s okay,” he mumbles as we walk to the door. “We’ll just see each other tomorrow for our walk?”
I bite down hard on my cheek.
You’re his friend.
But you’re his priest first.
You want him.
It’s just a crush.
Too many thoughts in my head, the spiral causing me to let out a sharp breath. It’s too much. Everything gets so loud. My thoughts spin out of control—lust, greed, guilt—I can’t handle it.
“I don’t know how I’ll be feeling,” I say through gritted teeth, holding onto the door handle far too tightly. “I’ll text you.”
“Oh, okay.” He stands there awkwardly, almost like he wants to say something else, but doesn’t. “So, bye then.”
“Goodbye, Theo. I’m sorry again. I?—”
But I’m cut off when he drops his binder and hugs me. It takes me by surprise, nearly knocking me into the door, but I don’t hesitate to wrap him in my arms. All the noise fades away at his touch, at the smell of him, at the feeling of having him so close.
I tighten my arms, prolonging the embrace, knowing I’m lingering far longer than I should be. I know if I shifted a bit, I could brush my lips against his freckled neck, lick at his skin, and taste him.
That’s the thought that pulls me away. He’s blushing, with a ridiculously happy smile on his face. “Goodbye, Matteo.”
He’s about to walk out but something forces me to stop him, speaking up just as he reaches for the door. “Or you could stay?”
He turns around quickly, eyes lighting up. He glances at the television in the living room, chewing the inside of his cheek. “We could play a round?”
“Yeah,” I say. That’s what we need. Just a nice time to hang out as friends. Just friends. “That sounds good.”
And we spend the rest of the afternoon playing a ridiculous game. I lose embarrassingly because I’m too busy focusing on him instead of the game. With every laugh, every smile, and every innocent touch, I fall deeper into the hole I’m digging for myself.
But I don’t hate it.