Stepping Out in Faith

Wow, guys. I am overwhelmed by such wonderful comments. This story has lived in my head for so long and I'm thrilled that you guys like it as much as I do. Now I'm terribly nervous for the next chapter, I hope it will live up to your expectations!

Please keep the comments coming. It motivates me to keep writing (and editing to make sure it's good writing). I love learning about what parts speak to you and it helps me hone my craft.

Happy reading!

Yours,

Hudson Bartholomew

*****

Stepping Out in Faith – Chapter 3

"I think I love you."

The words echoed into Andy's subconscious as he drifted in that place between sleep and awake.

I think I love you, too.

The thought flitted through his head, unbidden, before he slipped into a deep sleep.

*****

Andy opened his eyes, fully awake with no lingering tiredness or wishing he could turn over and fall back asleep. He couldn't remember the last time he slept so well or felt so rested.

Then he realized why.

He was using Marcus as a pillow—head on Marcus' shoulder, arms and legs wrapped around Marcus as if he was afraid the other man would run away while Andy slept.

Marcus was still snoring softly, curls in disarray, falling all over the place in a giant mop. Andy raised one hand to brush the soft curls back, trailing the tips of his fingers along Marcus' skin.

Andy ran his palm across Marcus' cheek, letting the stubble scrape across his skin. Andy remembered the feeling from last night when Marcus kiss his way across Andy's body and then down in that intimate spot with that sensitive skin. Andy blushed at the memory.

He snuggled in closer to Marcus, not wanting to leave the safe cocoon of the bed and Marcus' arms. He breathed deep the scent of Marcus, potent after a night of love making.

Andy caught himself in mid-thought. He had assuming it was love making. And now that he really thought about it, it was love making for him. It certainly was more than just meaningless sex with some stranger. But was it just meaningless sex for Marcus?

Andy didn't want to think that it could be. Marcus had shown him more compassion, care and tenderness than anyone Andy had ever met in his entire life. Why would he do that if Marcus was just looking for someone to sleep with? He could have had anyone he wanted, why would he bother with Andy unless it meant more than just some physical release.

Andy gazed at Marcus' profile, serene in the midst of sleep and without thinking sent up an unspoken prayer that this was more than just convenient sex for Marcus, that Marcus felt as deeply about whatever this was between them as Andy did.

Andy caught himself again. What was he thinking, praying about something like this? He had no right to be asking the Lord for anything of this sort. He was a priest, he's supposed to be celibate. And homosexuality is wrong. This was sinful on so many levels.

The heaviness of guilt crashed down on Andy as he pushed away from Marcus, searching for the time: 5 am. Andy panicked, scrambling out of bed, searching for his clothes.

The movement woke Marcus who stretched his lean body. Andy tried to ignore the play of muscles barely covered by the thin sheet

"What time is it?" Marcus asked.

"5 in the morning."

"You're leaving?"

Andy paused in the middle of buckling his belt. He could hear the disappointment in Marcus' voice and it tugged at his heart. Andy's head was telling him this was wrong, that he should run hard in the opposite direction and never look back. But his heart knew that was no longer an option—that had ceased to be an option long ago. Something had changed in him that first night he met Marcus and there was no going back now.

"If I hurry, I can make it back before Father Sullivan wakes up. He's an early riser." Andy explained, sitting back down on the bed and reaching out to put a hand on Marcus' thigh.

"Father Sullivan?" Marcus' voice was still groggy with sleep and it made Andy smile.

"My roommate," Andy grinned. "And technically, my boss."

"You live with your boss?" Marcus asked with a frown, clearly not fully awake yet.

"Yeah," Andy chuckled. "The parish maintains an apartment for us."

Marcus nodded and sat up, scooting closer to Andy. Neither man said anything, neither quite sure what to say.

Andy sighed when Marcus raised a hand to comb through Andy's hair. He nuzzled into Marcus' palm and fought against the desire to just climb back into bed.

"What's your phone number?" Marcus asked in a whisper.

Andy looked up, trying to read Marcus' eyes, but they looked guarded. But this was a good thing, right? If Marcus wanted his number, that means they would see each other again. Unless it was just for a booty call. Either way, it was a temptation that Andy knew he shouldn't indulge in.

And yet, he found himself reaching for the pen and paper on the night stand and scribbling down his number. Before he could stand to leave, Marcus pulled him in for a kiss, a gentle, sweet kiss that melted Andy's heart. It reignited the ball of emotion that had been roiling around in the middle of Andy's chest the night before, and threatened to consumed him.

Andy pulled back, breathing hard, trying to compose himself.

"I have to go," he whispered, forehead leaning against forehead.

Marcus nodded with a sigh. He laid back down on the bed as Andy stood. The sheet was pooled low around Marcus' hips, doing nothing to hide the thick erection tenting the fabric. The muscles along Marcus' body were defined and stood out in relief as Marcus stretched his arms up behind his head.

Andy let his eyes travel the length of Marcus' body, committing the image to memory. Marcus was forbidden fruit, but Andy had already gotten a taste of it and he would forever want more.

Andy knew he had to go, but he didn't know how to. He didn't know how to walk away from this man and back to that life that had once been everything he wanted. He smiled down at Marcus, hoping his face didn't show the turmoil of emotions going through his head.

Marcus smiled back, the simple gesture enough to calm Andy.

"It's okay," Marcus said. "Go, I'll call you."

Andy nodded, amazed and a little scared that Marcus could read him so well. He stuffed his feet into his shoes and headed to the door. On his way out, he noticed Marcus' sketches on the coffee table. He picked them up on a whim.

"Can I keep these?" He asked.

"Of course," Marcus said with a smile.

Andy smiled back and let himself out of the apartment.

When he got out onto the street, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Andy pulled it out to find a text message from Marcus.

Doe eyes, thank you for last night. Have a wonderful day, I'll see you soon.

Suddenly, Andy's step was lighter, the early morning air smelled fresher, and Andy couldn't seem to keep the giant smile off his face.

Andy's great mood lasted about 20 minutes, the amount of time it took for him to get home. Because when he got there, Father Sullivan was already awake and putzing around the kitchen.

"Father Dylan, good morning!" Father Sullivan said with a warm smile that quickly turned into a curious frown. "Are you just getting in from somewhere?"

"Um, yes," Andy said, opened the fridge and stuck his head in, pretending to look for something to hide the blush he felt spreading around his cheeks. "I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't sleep, so I went out for a walk."

"Ahh, still having trouble with insomnia?"

"Still?" Andy glanced up, brows furrowed in confusion.

"Yes, haven't you been having trouble with that? I noticed you going to the chapel late at night several times. I find that always helps me when I have something on my mind and I can't fall asleep."

"Oh, well, um..." Andy stammered.

"If you ever need an ear to listen, let me know," Father Sullivan said with a smile and a wink. "I'm here and I'm great at listening. I've had plenty of practice."

Andy couldn't help chuckling at the silly joke. He could just imagine the types of things Father Sullivan had heard after decades of sitting in that confession booth. But he didn't think Father Sullivan would appreciate exactly what he had to say.

"Thank you, Father Sullivan. I'll keep that in mind."

Andy excused himself and escaped to his room. He smoothed Marcus' drawings out on his desk and admired the simple yet profound sketches.

Marcus had said that he drew what he saw. But Andy certainly didn't see the image in those drawings when he looked in the mirror. Was it possible that Marcus saw something in Andy that Andy himself couldn't see?

Andy tucked the sketches safely into his desk drawer and grabbed a towel to take a shower. In the bathroom, he undressed and stared at himself in the mirror. The image staring back at him wasn't really that impressive.

He had gotten chubby when he went to college and had never been able to shake the extra layer of fat. His plain brown hair was so thick there was nothing really he could do with it, it just sat there on top of his head. His skin was pasty white, almost sickly, but he really didn't think a priest could justify going out to get a base tan.

Andy sighed and climbed into the shower. Raising his leg to step over the ledge of the tub, he froze in mid-motion, grabbing at the wall. Stiff muscles down his thighs screamed at him and his tender hole spasmed painfully. He never realized that sex would be such a work out. Well, maybe that could a solution to his chubbiness. The thought popped into Andy's head unbidden and he had to argue with himself not to laugh out loud.

Andy slowly manoeuvred his way into the shower and turned the water on hot. He sighed as the spray ran down his body, soothing the sore muscles. He grabbed the soap, lathering up and running it over his skin. His hands discovered tender patches where Marcus' stubble had left its mark and achy parts that weren't used to that particular type of exercise.

When he got to his butt, he gently slipped a finger in between the two cheeks and ran the tip around the wrinkled skin of his hole. The sensation of his soapy finger reminded him of Marcus' finger. Letting curiosity get the better of him, Andy pushed experimentally and gasped as the tip of his finger slipped inside his hole.

Andy had never done anything like that to himself before. It disgusted and exhilarated him at the same time. He now knew how pleasurable that road could be. But it felt weird and wrong to do it to himself without Marcus there.

He slipped his finger out and felt the muscles of his hole contracting as if trying to suck something back in. Andy shook his head trying to rid the inappropriate thoughts from his mind. He ignored the erection that had developed while he was soaping himself down and turned the water cold to shock himself out of the direction his body was taking.

It was mostly successful and as he toweled off, Andy felt himself come back into a familiar place. He dressed himself in black slacks and a black button down, putting on the armor of a priest. At one time he felt secure and comfortable behind the black uniform, but now it felt like a heavy facade that he couldn't shake off.

He put the white collar in place and swallowed thickly, almost expecting himself to choke on the noose. But he didn't choke, instead he took a deep breath, filling his lungs to capacity. The heavy load didn't feel any lighter.

Andy itched to rip the cloth off his body, but a vow was a vow and he had committed his life to this cause. It was a noble cause, Andy still believed that. And everyone had bad days, he told himself. Today he didn't feel like being a priest, but that was all the more reason to put his head down and forge through it. That was discipline, that was devotion, that was what Andy had promised to do. So he would do it.

Father Sullivan begin chatting away about what needed to be done to prepare for the upcoming weekend the minute after Andy arrived at their shared office just off of the chapel. The words settled heavily on Andy's already burdened shoulders. All the energy he had awoken with that morning drained away and all Andy wanted to do was crawl back into bed.

Andy stared blankly at his desk, not sure where to begin his day, how to sort through all the work that was waiting for him.

"Father Dylan? Are you alright?"

Andy glanced at Father Sullivan and his concerned look.

"Yes, sorry," Andy answered with what he hoped was an easy smile. "Just zoned out there for a second."

Father Sullivan returned his smile, but it didn't look like he was buying Andy's response.

"You know, Father Dylan... Andy, I know I've said this already, and at the risk of sounding like a broken record, please remember that I'm more than happy to listen if you have something on your mind. We often carry other people's burdens, but that doesn't mean we don't have burdens of our own."

Father Sullivan's words struck a little too close to home and Andy's stomach twisted up in knots. What if he knew? What if Father Sullivan knew that Andy was sneaking off at night to do unthinkable things? Andy could never survive that. He would get stripped of his priesthood, and then what would he do?

Andy swallowed thickly and nodded. He bent over his desk, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand, not realizing the aura of fear and anxiety that was radiating off of him. He didn't see Father Sullivan's concerned frown or the way the older man would glance over every once in a while, wondering if there was more he could say.

It wasn't until a knock on the door sounded around noon that Andy let himself raise his head and make eye contact with Father Sullivan.

"Father Sullivan, Father Dylan! I'm so glad I caught you both here," Mrs. Marsten, a loud grandmother from the parish came bustling in.

"I brought some cake left over from my grandson's birthday party," the older woman said, presenting them with a box.

"Why thank you, Mrs. Marsten," Andy got up and took the box from her, noticing that it was warm and likely fresh from the oven rather than from the previous day. "You didn't have to do that."

"Nonsense, it's just leftovers," Mrs. Marsten smiled sweetly at Andy. It was always awkward from old grandmothers tried to flirt with him. Didn't they realize how inappropriate that was on a whole host of levels?

"Mrs. Marsten, how is your grandson?" Father Sullivan asked.

"Oh, he just turned 10. He's growing so fast! Already so tall! He's going to grow into a strapping young man, like yourself, Father Dylan."

Mrs. Marsten placed a hand on Andy's arm and squeezed appreciatively, causing Andy to flush in embarrassment.

"Well, he's more than welcome to join our youth group," Father Sullivan continued, trying to rescue Andy. "Please extend our invitation to him."

"Oh certainly! Especially if Father Dylan is in charge, I'm sure those kids are in good hands."

Andy coughed awkwardly and threw Father Sullivan a desperate look.

"Yes, they certainly are," Father Sullivan laughed. "Actually, Mrs. Marsten, I'm so glad you stopped by today. I wanted to chat with you about the bake sale fundraiser. Do you have a few minutes?"

"Of course!"

"I'm going to take this to the kitchen," Andy excused himself and beat a hasty retreat, not breathing a sigh of relief until he was clear across the building.

Putting the cake on the counter, he sat down heavily on a nearby barstool, and immediately jumped up when he landed on his sore butt. Sitting gently this time, he put his head in his hands, fighting through the flood of emotions threatening to drown him.

He didn't know what to do. He couldn't go back to that office, he could sit there across from Father Sullivan and pretend everything was okay. He couldn't face his parishioners, putting on a facade of a holy priest. He couldn't stand the smiles and the way they looked up to him, not after he'd done the things he'd done. Not while he still wanted to do them.

He ripped off the white collar around his throat and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, hoping that would help him breathe. Marcus, that's what he wanted. Out of the storm of thoughts in his head, one thing became clear. Marcus, he wanted Marcus.

Even just the thought of the man helped to ease the panic threatening to drown Andy. He could feel his heart rate settle and his lungs opening up, and he closed his eyes to remember the way Marcus' arms had felt around him. Safe. Marcus made him felt safe.

Andy pulled his phone out, and was surprised to find a text from Marcus waiting for him. He'd been so consumed that he hadn't noticed the text come in.

How's your ass feeling? Not too sore?

Andy couldn't help but laugh out loud. It actually was a little too sore for his liking.

I accidentally sat down too hard just now. It was painful.

Sorry, my fault :) I'll have to make it up to you.

Andy smiled, his mind suddenly flooded with all the ways Marcus could make it up to him. Andy felt his body respond faster than he was able to keep his thoughts in check. He quickly reached down and adjusted himself.

I'll see you tonight at the club?

Marcus' text came through again.

Andy's thumbs hovered above the keyboard. This was forbidden territory, Andy knew that. He shouldn't be doing this. But he couldn't help himself. He felt like a moth drawn to the flame. Marcus was a flame, bright and beautiful, and despite the risk of getting burned, Andy wanted to be near him.

Yes, I'll be there.

Good. Can't wait.

By the time Andy made it back to the office, Mrs. Marsten was thankfully gone. Father Sullivan had disappeared, too, and Andy was relieved. That short exchange with Marcus had done more to calm his nerves than weeks of praying on his knees. Andy didn't want to think too much into that. Rather, he remembered Marcus' smile and let the anticipation of seeing Marcus again motivate him through the rest of the day.

*****

Andy steeled himself against the sound and smell of the club before stepping inside. There was always something about the first few moments surrounded by that much sweaty men and deafening music that shocked his senses in the most uncomfortable way.

Today was the same, but at least today he was eager to get inside. Marcus was there, and as much as Andy had been denying it to himself, he'd been looking forward to seeing him again all day.

It didn't take long for Andy to find him this time. Marcus was at the bar again, close to where they'd had met that first night. Andy's eyes were immediately drawn to Marcus, unruly curls and tight body revealed under a tight t-shirt and jeans. Andy felt a fire spark in the middle of his chest at the sight of Marcus. The heat spread quickly as his body responded.

Andy made his way through the crowd, eyes fixed on Marcus. It wasn't until he was a couple of yards away that he noticed that Marcus was talking to another man. They were leaning in close together, talking into each other's ear. The man put his hand across the back of Marcus' neck, forcing Marcus to look at him. Marcus responded with a hand low on the other man's hip. They were clearly more than mere acquaintances.

Andy stood frozen with a sense of déjà vu, remembering the other night he came to club to find Marcus chatting with another attractive man. Maybe he had been mistaken about Marcus' text. Maybe Marcus wanted nothing more than have sex again and was testing the field before Andy arrived. Suddenly Andy wasn't sure he wanted to be here at all.

Before he could decide what to do, the other man spotted Andy and frowned. How the other man knew who he was, Andy had no idea, but it was clear from his body language that he didn't like Andy's presence.