Chapter 6 Alessio
ALESSIO
MY DREAMS WERE fitful. Memories came and went, but only in pieces, and the most painful ones at that.
Rafael standing in the kitchen at my parents’ house, his hands wrapped around his favorite mug, giving me a look that told me I wasn’t going to like what he had to say.
“I’ve been praying about this,” he’d said.
I’d rolled my eyes. “You pray about everything.”
Another fragment of a memory—his packing a small bag days later.
I could still feel the disbelief. Asking him if he was really leaving and knowing he was choosing a life that would no longer include me.
“I have to,” was all he’d said, but fuck that. He didn’t have to at all.
He was choosing the seminary. He was choosing it over me.
I woke up with a start, my heart racing and my head feeling like it was going to split in half.
“Fuck,” I groaned, and reached for my head like I could hold it together and stop the pain, but moving only made it worse.
No, worse was the taste in my mouth, tequila still lingering along with some serious regret.
Jesus, how much had Benoit let me drink last night?
I almost snorted at the thought, because if anything, it had probably been my idea to drown myself in liquor—not that I could remember. We’d done shots and he’d been asking about Rafael, and God only knew what I’d said after that.
Hopefully nothing. Hopefully I’d been too busy drinking and listening to Benoit gossip and give unwanted, explicit details about his escapades with Dimitri to open my own mouth.
But then something flashed through my mind. The inside of the confessional booth. My hand against the lattice.
That wasn’t last night…was it?
No, it couldn’t have been. I’d gone straight home after leaving the bar—hadn’t I?
But when I closed my eyes, I heard it: Rafael’s voice on the other side of the booth. Saying just one word, but it happened to be my name on his tongue, and that was all it took to have the rest of the night coming back to me with humiliating clarity.
“Oh fuck,” I said, horror dawning. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, but that didn’t help, because I could remember every single word I’d confessed. Things I’d never planned to say, not to anyone, but especially not to him.
I’d told him about the sex club. About wanting to know what was under his robes. That would’ve been enough, but it was the hidden truths I’d never wanted him to hear that had me feeling the remnants of tequila coming back up my throat.
Do you ever think about me?
You didn’t choose me…and I chose you forever.
No. No, no, no, no—
I could barely breathe as I shot up in the bed, my heart pounding so fast it made me dizzy.
Oh God. What had I done?
But God wasn’t going to help me now, probably not ever again. Not after what I’d said to his priest, and the fact that I hadn’t burst into flames there in the booth was shocking.
What the fuck had I been thinking going to Rafael last night?
But I knew the answer to that. Drunk me was too honest, which meant every single iota of hurt and pain and resentment had to come pouring out somehow, but Jesus Christ, couldn’t it have been to Benoit instead?
That would’ve been preferable to the knowledge that Rafael knew now just how much his leaving still affected me all this time later.
I tried to remember if there was anything he’d said, any little morsel I could grab and hold on to for how he’d reacted, but all I’d heard on the other side of the screen was silence.
Oh. Right. I’d told him not to speak.
Rubbing a hand over my face, I shifted to the edge of the bed and sat there for a long moment, not trusting that I wouldn’t fall over still half drunk if I stood.
Something hard pressed into my palm, and I lifted my hand to see a strand of tiger’s-eye beads against the stark white sheets.
My rosary.
I stared down at it, wondering why I’d taken it out from where I kept it locked away, before realizing it didn’t matter. Apparently last night had been full of mistakes, but I wasn’t repeating any of those today.
I ran a hand through my hair, pushing it out of my way, and wished it was that easy to shove the rest of my life behind me. But apparently that was all it was, a fucking wish. I’d been trying to lock my past away for years, and look what good that’d done me.
I’d wound up in a confessional booth, drunk off my ass, spilling my guts to the last person who needed, or wanted, to hear it.
Hell, maybe it was for the best. Maybe my words would finally have Rafael looking at me with something other than pity.
Now, he’d just look at me like I was a fucking deviant—which was more accurate when compared to him.
But who could live up to his lofty expectations?
He’d always been the better of the two of us, and last night had proved that yet again.
There I’d been talking about sweaty men, tiny thongs, and touching each other, and he’d been silent and still as a statue.
It was as infuriating as it was mortifying. But I wasn’t going to sit here and twist myself into knots about it.
He’d done this to me, had made me this way, and if he had a problem with it…
Well, he could do what he always did when it came to me: pray on it.
Annoyed at that thought and the headache banging out a pounding rhythm at my temple, I scooped up the rosary and tossed it on my nightstand. Then I carefully made my way into the bathroom, where I brushed my teeth for ten minutes and gargled half a bottle of mouthwash.
A quick splash of cold water had my brain starting to rewire itself back to functioning capacity, then I made my way out of my bedroom and through the large living space of my penthouse condo.
Unlike my brothers, I didn’t have much in the way of fancy décor and expensive antiques decorating my space. I’d instead chosen a more modern, sleek style, and spent my money on the latest and greatest tech gadgets.
My home was more about open, clean spaces than warm, inviting rooms. I lived alone and enjoyed my solitude. But as I made my way through my living room and stopped at the floor to ceiling windows, the tall spier of St. Andrews Church ridiculed me.
Alone? You’re not alone.
“Shut up,” I muttered as I stared down at the corner block the church occupied. It didn’t matter that if anyone knew I’d bought this place to be able to watch the church, that they’d think I was insane.
I’d bought it anyway.
The fact I also had a clean line of sight to where a certain priest left the church each night and made his way to the rectory was just another sin I’d have to atone for later, when my time came.
Might as well throw in the binoculars too. I was sure those pissed God off to no end.
But was it my fault he’d made Rafael so fucking perfect that I couldn’t stop myself from looking? Plus, it wasn’t like I was doing anything. I was just looking.
An alarm went off somewhere in the house, making me wince at the ringing sound that did jack shit to help my head, but I knew what it was for.
It went off at the same time every morning and every night.
I stared down at the small apartment at the back of the church and reached for the pair of binoculars on the side table.
This isn’t creepy at all, I thought, as I brought them up and zeroed in on the statuesque man cloaked in black.
The morning sun shone off his golden hair in a way that resembled a halo.
As he followed the path through the gardens to the back of the church, I spotted his Bible and rosary in his hand and wondered if he’d slept with his too.
Fuck.
The last thing I needed to think about was Rafael in a bed, especially the small one he no doubt had in the rectory.
I wondered if he even fit in it. He was so tall that I couldn’t imagine his fitting a single bed, but I sure could imagine him in my king-sized one.
The way he used to tangle his legs with mine…
My cock immediately stirred at the thought, the memory slamming into me as hard and fast as the ones that had infiltrated my dreams. But this one I let settle, as Rafael stopped by one of the potted plants to actually smell the fucking roses.
This man. I shook my head. He’s too damn good for me.
I knew it.
He knew it.
Even God knew it.
But as I watched him reach out and trace the delicate petal closest to him, I couldn’t help but imagine him touching me instead.
Softly, gently, careful not to—
No, fuck that. I wanted him to grab me, pull me in, bruise me with fingers desperate to hang on to me and never let go. That was how he used to hold me. As that memory crashed into me, I curled my fingers around my cock and squeezed.
Rafael had known exactly what I wanted before I did, his touch both heaven and hell as he teased and tormented me into coming for him.
And now? Now I was standing up here jerking off to him like some lovesick moron who couldn’t move on while he headed in to conduct morning service and prayer.
Yeah, no, I wasn’t doing this.
I put the binoculars down and turned away from the window, disgusted with my lack of control on all levels.
I’d let these past visits to the confessional drive me to a place I’d always promised myself I would avoid, and now I was standing here about to get myself off to a priest standing in a church courtyard?
I stormed across the living room and back through my bedroom to the en suite, where I flicked on the cold water. Then I stepped inside under the spray and cursed as the shock of it killed any kind of arousal I’d been feeling and cleared my foggy head.
Maybe God would at least give me points for that.