Chapter 16 #2
I gestured for us to move from the middle of the sidewalk and around the corner from The Ring.
“I appreciate your concern, Marie.” I honestly didn’t know how I should proceed.
If I told her the truth, everyone at the church within her sphere of friends and co-volunteers who taught catechism would know as well.
I glanced toward The Ring when my thoughts upon leaving just a minute earlier were of freedom.
If I lied, then I’d be in cahoots with the authority that I was fighting against. More than anything, I didn’t want to walk in Long Beach and have to fret about running into someone from the parish. “I’ve left the Church, Marie.”
Her hand flew to her mouth but fell away when she encircled my arm with both her hands, as if attempting to keep me in her sight. “Wh-when?”
“Since last Saturday when Father Greg took over confession.”
“He said you were ill.”
“I had been. That wasn’t a lie from him.” Extricating myself, I apologized. “I’m sorry, Marie, but I can’t discuss my situation, since it’s not finalized in the eyes of the Church.”
She hugged herself, seemingly not to grab for me again. Her expression was compassionate when she said, “For what it’s worth, you were a good pastor, Father.” And then with a frown, she queried, “What do I call you now?”
I smiled. “Jude is fine.”
“I have a million nosy questions, which I won’t ask out of respect. But maybe just one?”
“Sure,” I said.
“Will you be staying in the Long Beach area? It would be nice to run into you every now and then. Since I’m assuming that you won’t be attending Mass at St. Michael the Archangel.”
“I don’t know, Marie. And I’m not deflecting or attempting to put you off. But I’m at a loss right now and need some time to think through my options.”
Marie nodded. “Understandable. You’re a good man and the clerical robes don’t change your personality or qualities when you take them off. I think whatever you decide, you’re going to be fine.”
I respected the woman so her words meant a lot to me. “Thank you, Marie. I appreciate that. And feel free to tell the other volunteers that we spoke and that I’m not coming back. I don’t think it’s fair that if you hadn’t run into me, you all would still be in the dark.”
“You see Jude, that’s what I meant. You’re always thinking about everyone else.” On a sigh, she continued, “I wouldn’t want to be your replacement because he’s going to have an uphill climb to meet the gold standard you set.”
“Thank you, Marie. I’m really glad that we had a chance to talk. Be well.” With a wink I added, “Don’t be too hard on him.”
She laughed and we went in opposite directions.
I was anxious to get to the grocery store and have a nice dinner prepared for when Ethan arrived home.
When the temperatures hit in the nineties, I thought Ethan might prefer something cool and light.
Eventually, I decided on salad plates. I’d plated both of our dinners ahead of time.
On a bed of spring greens, baby spinach, and arugula I’d drizzled homemade olive oil and balsamic vinegar dressing.
Then I rimmed the plate with orange slices, pineapple chunks, and grapes.
And in the center, I ladled two healthy scoops of tuna and egg salad, decorated with spears of dill pickles.
For bread, I’d warmed croissants in the toaster oven.
“This is perfect,” Ethan said as he dug into the tuna salad. “The shop was blistering today even with the air conditioning on.”
“I thought as much. Glad I got it right.” I’d kept the pitcher of iced tea in the refrigerator. “Do you want more to drink?”
“I’ll get it when I need some,” he said, squeezing my hand. “Just sit and relax with me. I still feel like coming home to you is a dream.”
“I’ve been on cloud nine all day myself,” I said, “especially after seeing Hawk. He appreciated your message and said to tell you how proud he was of you staying away from the whips. And he broke into the widest grin when I told him about us.”
“He’s a good guy.” Ethan dragged the last of a croissant through the salad dressing and ate it with a sated sigh. “Tomorrow I’ll grill for us.”
“I don’t mind, baby. I’ve got little else to do right now. I feel that I can’t move forward until I finalize things with both the Church and my parents.”
“I get that,” Ethan said. “What is your plan with your mother?”
“I’m going to wait until Friday to call the bishop. If he doesn’t pick up after several attempts, I’ll go above him to the Ecclesiastical Council for this region. Someone has to give me answers. Once I hear from them, I’ll contact my parents.”
The dip in the bridge of Ethan’s nose deepened, which creased his forehead. “What are you thinking so hard about?”
Ethan pushed his plate away and leaning in, arms on the table, he clasped my hands. “I don’t want to make you worry more than you are already. But I’m concerned about the silence from Father Matthew and your mother. It’s like the calm before the storm.”
Slipping my hands free, I got up, kissed his wrinkled brow, and then began clearing the dishes. “I’ve been thinking the same thing, baby. So, you haven’t added any more stress. Actually, I feel better that we’re on the same page and I’m not being neurotic.”
Ethan joined me in clearing the table and stored away the leftover salads while I loaded the dishwasher, which took all of two minutes. I’d washed all the utensils and bowls I’d used in the preparation earlier. When we were finished, Ethan asked, “Do you want a beer?”
“Sure,” I said, “and we can sit on the patio. There should be a nice breeze off the ocean.”
“Not to belabor the subject,” Ethan said, “but I think you should reach out to your mother. You know her well enough to figure out if she’s up to something.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
We sat outside until twilight, then cuddled on the sofa and watched a documentary on the city of Syracuse on the Ionian coast of Sicily.
I delighted in Ethan’s own documentary as he recounted the few times that he’d been there, pointing out on the screen when certain sights showed, like the Roman Amphitheatre and Teatro Greco commemorating the fact that Syracuse was known as having been the chief Greek city of ancient Sicily.
Afterward, with Ethan still smiling about his homeland, we lay in bed, our limbs entangled. “Will you take me one day?”
He knew where I was referring to when he pledged, “I promise we’ll go. Being able to experience the land through your perspective would be a pleasure…” He sucked my bottom lip. “…and a privilege.” Then the tip of his tongue teased the seam of my lips.
Ethan didn’t have to tease me for long because I parted my mouth, the warm slick of his tongue against mine, not in a frenzied duel but a tender mating, like Ethan and I were meant to be paired. Our kisses were languid, gentle caresses.
“We’ll visit my hometown and all the men in my extended family will be jealous of me for finding someone who makes my heart thump in double-time.”
I stroked the side of his face, the mere touch of him sent sparks of fire through my limbs. “I first have to pass inspection with Mamma.”
“Oh shit, I’m glad you mentioned her,” Ethan said, popping up. “Frank told me to call her with your favorite food.”
“That’s easy, lasagna, but I’ve never had the homemade kind,” I said timidly. “Is that okay?”
“More than. It’s one of her signature meals to serve. See, you’ve already passed inspection.”
Grinding my knee against his balls, I asked, “Do I check all your boxes, baby?”
Groaning, Ethan said, “I can’t say until I do more tests.”
“What kind of tests?” I asked suggestively.
He rolled on top of me and fingered a lock of my hair, then tugged lightly to tip my head back.
The move gave him access to my throat. He licked and kissed his way to my jaw where he dipped his tongue into the corner of my mouth.
I tried to snag it but missed and he chuckled.
Working his way around behind my ear, my body sang with pleasure.
“Test number one. How long can I kiss you all over until you beg me to come?”
I snagged Ethan’s nipple ring with my teeth and tugged.
“No fair,” he hissed.
“Haven’t you ever heard of the expression, all’s fair in love and war?”
Sliding his hand between us, Ethan smeared precum on our cocks, then he grabbed them in his calloused hands and shuttled them, slow and easy.
Sucking in a breath, I rasped, “I never realized that I had a thing for guys that work with their hands.”
“Guys, plural?” Ethan groused, sounding both teasing and serious.
“No, baby. Only you,” I said in a honey-sweet voice. “Now, why don’t you go back to your testing.”
For the next however long, Ethan made every atom and fiber in my being come alive like I’d been struck by lightning, and it shot through me to my balls.
I was so close. “Please, baby. You’re making me beg again,” I whined.
“Isn’t it the submissive who does the begging?
” His green eyes swept my face as my lips parted.
“I’ve got you, Babbo.” And with those words he worked our cocks together, shuttling them, every so often slowing to spread more precum and then speeding up again.
My breaths were shallow and quick, punctuated by each buck of our cocks in and out of his big palm, the sight and overload of sensations leaving me lightheaded.
My groans grew louder and more insistent as my orgasm curled around my balls.
Every glide of Ethan’s hands over our cocks had me arching for more.
My cock leaked like a faucet, the salty semen blending with Ethan’s when without warning I my head lolled and I cried his name as black dots fill my vision. Cum flooded his fingers.