Some curly haired fuck in a flannel played acoustic guitar and sang about letting Jesus fill him up deep.
It was 11 a.m., and I was dressed up and at church, still wiping the sleep from my eyes. My earliest class was a 9:30 AM seminar on Wednesdays, but somehow, waking up hours later on a Sunday was more of a nightmare. Even the homoerotic religious imagery could barely hold my interest.
Luke nudged me. It was time to sit down again.
That's lots of what church is. Stand up. Sit down. Stand up again. Shake hands. Sit down again. This time with Luke was no different.
Our relationship at this point was complicated.
He was a religious zealot, and I was gay.
To add a layer of complexity on top of that, he had deepthroated my cock a week ago.
He, in all his godly wisdom, had decided that he would do anything to save my soul. Apparently, that "anything" included sucking my cock.
Repression is a hell of a thing.
I had agreed to go to church with him this week if he had taken my dick and lo and behold, he held up his part of the bargain. No matter how much I hated that self-loathing, homophobic dickwad, I wasn't going to bail.
So today I had put on wrinkled khakis and a cotton button down that was too-tight around my chest, and we had driven to church in silence. We had barely talked to one another the whole past week, which I much preferred to the alternative. I still heard him praying damn near every day, though.
I looked around.
I had to admit, the church was a pretty one inside and out. From the outside, it was a mix of red brick and large, flat slabs of moss-stained concrete. Multicolored stained glass windows lined the walls, and a wrought iron cross was fixed on the steeple. On the inside, you could see the biblical scenes that the stained glass created, and together they bathed the hand-carved pews in rainbow light. Even the dust motes floating in the air shone with technicolor.
Honestly, it would be a great location for a Pride event if the parishioners weren't diametrically opposed to the existence of queer people.
The service was long and boring. A middle-aged pastor spoke in front of us about the dangers of living in sin. He vehemently rejected lust, greed, and worldly appetites.
Then he asked for money.
I consider myself a pretty good student. Still, I found his overarching point to be winding and boring, and as he droned on, I found my mind wandering. I thought about Luke. I thought about his mouth and how his lips felt wrapped around my dick. In a very short amount of time, I felt my dick hardening.
"Let us join hands with our family and friends, and pray," the pastor said. He bowed his head, and while Luke made no movement, I reached over and I grabbed his hand. I felt him tense up. His palm started to grow sweaty, and I could tell that he immediately half-wanted to pull away. While he closed his eyes, and the pastor began his prayer, I looked at Luke. His smooth cheeks and his shiny hair would've made him a popular twink at any gay club, and he decided to stick around at a church.
What a waste.
I gently pulled his hand in my direction, and I let it rest on my lap. Once again, I could feel him tense, but he did not pull his hand back. While the pastor prayed for blessings and forgiveness, Luke kept his fingers draped over my leg, barely grazing my erect cock. I could tell that he was torn, wanting to feel more, but feeling shame at sinning in such a holy space. Even through my pants, I'm sure he could feel the heat, and after I felt his fingers move slightly, he pulled back suddenly, as if he was burned.
The prayer ended, and we stood.
As everybody exited filtered into the narthex, I stuck close to Luke. To be honest, he wasn't my favorite person, but I would rather stay by him than be inundated by any other wannabe savior who would ask me who I was, where I was from, and every piece of information they could garner except for my Social Security number.
As some people started to leave for the parking lot, Luke stayed.
"Ready to head out?" I asked as another family left.
He looked at me, crestfallen. "You said that we would go to the potluck, though," he said.
Fuck. He was right.
I briefly considered just leaving, letting myself off the hook for what was sure to be a horribly awkward ordeal. I did say I would stay, though.
Goddammit.
"Fine," I said. "We'll stay."
"Great!" Luke said. "I told Pastor Maynard we would help set up."
God
damn
it.
"Now I'm an altar boy?" I asked.
"We don't have those," Luke said absentmindedly. His eyes already glazed over and he was looking around the room, charting out where we needed to go.
"Luke!" A voice said.
I recognized that voice. It was the pastor who had given the sermon. He appeared from the crowd in front of us. His eyes were kind.
"Hello, young man," the pastor said, smiling at Luke. "Good to see you growing our flock." He nodded toward me.
Gross.
"Can you two strong boys go downstairs to get some more tables? It looks like the Lord has blessed us with a larger group today," Pastor Maynard said.
Luke didn't even look at me. "I can get them myself," he said. "No need for two of us, sir."
He didn't want to be left along with me. Noted.
"Nonsense," Pastor Maynard said. "We moved them to the south storage room, and this man needs a tour!" He clapped a clammy palm on my shoulder and grinned.
I blew air through my nose in a way that could be construed as a polite laugh.
That was satisfactory enough for him, and the pastor left to go talk to members of the congregation.
I turned to Luke. "Let's go. We got tables to grab."
He pursed his lips, torn between following Pastor Maynard's instructions and wanting to avoid being alone with me. I could feel his weakness. I could feel how fragile his resistance to me was. Both he and I knew what being alone might mean.
Still, he nodded. "Okay," he squeaked.
As we walked through the popcorn walls that created a maze under the church, Luke babbled nervously.
"So, seriously," he said, "thank you for giving this a chance. Jesus is always there for you--for us--for anyone. The community is so good too. They accept anyone. Not that they shouldn't accept you just because you're gay, of course. Jesus hung out with sinners all the time. They accept anyone!"
"Mhmm," I hummed. As he tripped over himself and repeatedly put his foot into his mouth, I watched his ass. His slim khakis hugged his round ass, and with his belt cinched tight, he had a slight hourglass figure.
"I hope you'll come next week too," he said, turning into a doorway labeled "STORAGE."
