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The heavy doors close behind him like a warning. An omen. The old, dense, wooden doors seal his fate.
Eddie walks into the empty Church, listening to his footsteps echo on the pale tile. He looks around at vacant dark green pews and continues walking up the aisle until he stops in front of the altar. There’s a golden cross design etched into the marble tiles on the floor. White quartz stairs lead to a maple wood altar table with a green cloth draped across it— the season of ordinary times is represented by green, Eddie recalls from his middle school teachings. Eddie’s eyes rake over the silver tabernacle behind the altar. Its intricate chainmail design intimidates him for some reason.
The fear in him increases, sending a shiver down his spine, when he looks up to the crucifix.
There, a wooden statue of Jesus is pinned against a wooden cross with green embellishments. The face of Jesus is hung to the side, over his shoulder— a face of woe and anguish. A face of peace.
He’s never been able to stand staring at the crucifix for too long, always feeling guilty at the pained expression on Jesus’ face. As a kid, whenever he walked into a room with a crucifix, his spine would straighten as if he was being watched— judged— with every breath he took. To this day Eddie is hyper aware of every crucifix in the room with him. He steps into his own house and feels a chill at the golden cross nailed by his front door. He visits his abuela and gulps when he walks down the hallway, feeling her crucifix’s eyes following him. Even at work, the cross hung up in Bobby’s office fills him with a dreadful guilt.
So Eddie looks away. He shoves his hands in his pockets and turns around, clicking his heels against the tile as he walks back down the aisle. He’s briefly reminded of his own wedding. The rundown Texan Church he and Shannon got married in was not nearly as nice as this one, but the feeling of walking down the aisle is reminiscent anyway.
There’s an echo of footsteps off beat with his own.
Eddie notes the figure dressed in all black walking out of the back room of the Church— the sacristy, he thinks. The priest meets him at the end of the aisle. There’s a familiarity in the scene, but Eddie can’t put his finger on what exactly.
“Good morning,” The priest says. His voice is high pitched but welcoming. “You’re a new face, what brings you here?”
“Hi Father,” He accepts the priest’s handshake, “I’m Eddie Diaz. My captain at work recommended you to me. Bobby Nash.”
The blonde nods, his gelled dark strands not moving from their stiff position. His blue eyes briefly widen in recognition. “Mr. Nash, yes. How’s he doing?”
“Uh,” Eddie swallows, “He’s doing alright for the most part.” Eddie decides not to bring up his house burning down, the minutes his heart was stopped, or his resignation as captain. That’s Bobby’s business to talk about.
“That’s great. Is everything alright with you?”
Eddie chuckles and shakes his head, breaking eye contact with the priest to glance at the floor. “Not exactly. That’s why I’m here. I’d like to have a session of reconciliation if you’re available.” He bites his tongue at the end, holding off on mentioning that other priests can also help him if they’re available. Eddie feels oddly at ease with this priest. His blonde hair and blue eyes light a spark of something in his spine. Familiarity. Comfort. There’s a sense of peace in the slight stubble framing the priest’s jaw.
He knows exactly what it is about the priest’s features that are recognizable to him.
The priest just doesn’t have the muscular build, tall frame, or pink birthmark he’s used to.
“Of course,” The priest nods and jerks his head to the front of the Church, to the right side of the altar where two red chairs sit. “Follow me.”
Eddie listens to the silence in the Church, their joined footsteps disturbing the silence with echoes that skitter across the marble. The priest’s footsteps are quieter than Eddie’s— which makes sense given the man’s shorter and thinner stature.
The pair sits in the chairs, facing each other. They’re pretty close together, only a couple inches between their knees. Far enough for comfort, but still close enough for the priest to hear the sinner’s hushed admissions.
“Would you like me to bring out the divider?” His voice is gentle, clearly sensing Eddie’s hesitance at being in a Church.
Never use the screen during confession, his parents always told him. It’s cheating if you can’t directly look God in the eyes when you ask for His forgiveness.
“No, that’s alright. I never used it growing up. My parents taught me not to.”
The priest huffs something almost like a laugh, “Then I’m guessing not everything they taught you was true.”
Eddie nods and murmurs “That’s why I’m here.” He locks eyes with the priest. “Bless me Father, for I have sinned,” Eddie gulps, “It’s been seven years since my last confession.” He hasn’t been to Church since Shannon’s death.
He expects the priest to be shocked, but the blonde simply nods in an understanding way. “What’s on your mind today?”
Eddie blanks out on everything he listed in his head to say. It was quite the long list and now his brain is completely void.
He thinks of the root of everything. All of his sins. He draws in a breath.
“I’m gay.”
The priest sighs. Eddie’s heart constricts and his gut twists in his stomach. Edmundo, his father chided with a finger against his ten year old chest. That's not natural, you hear me? His father said in response to two men holding hands that they walked past on the sidewalk. His mother too, in the car after the person at the grocery store wore a short skirt that framed their muscular thighs and a tight shirt that accentuated their pecs: You understand how that’s not normal, right? God never intended for His children to dress like that. Eddie clenches his eyes. He could practically hear in the priest’s sigh— feel the scolding he’s about to get.
“That’s not exactly a sin you have to confess.”
Eddie opens his eyes. He blinks his lashes where he’s staring down at the tile. He meets the priest’s eyes, brown looking into blue, “What,” He asks. It comes out as a whisper. A weak, broken sound.
The priest nods, “I can imagine how you grew up— probably very strict parents with very strict teachings. Probably taught you a lot from generations prior to now.”
Eddie stares at the priest. He feels hollow. Like the collared man scratched into his chest and carved out his heart, leaving his skin bloodied, flayed, and stripped.
He feels seen.
“I was raised in Texas,” He starts, “I had premarital sex and my parents forced us to get married before my son was born. I never had a chance to really think about how I feel—“ Eddie cuts himself off in paused thought, “To think about men that way.”
“Hopefully it’ll provide you some comfort to know that I’m gay.” The priest says the word with such ease that Eddie’s teeth clench.
“Really?” He blinks.
“I won’t go much into it and take time away from your confession, but yes. It’s not something I’ve ever acted on because I’m married to the Church, but my attraction definitely leans towards men.” He shrugs nonchalantly as if he has it all figured out— as if he hasn’t just flipped Eddie’s view of the past thirty-something years of his life.
“That,” Eddie chuckles in disbelief, “That actually makes me feel a lot better— I never pictured that there could be such a close link between religion and sexuality.”
The priest nods, his blue eyes flashing with understanding. Eddie focuses on the rings of blue circling dark irises, those big eyes really looking into him.
“I’ve never acted on my attraction either,” Eddie blurts out. His eyebrows twitch in his own confusion about why he admitted that. That inaction, if anything, is the one part of his life that isn’t bathed in sin right now.
The priest quirks one of his eyebrows. An image flashes through Eddie’s mind, an image of another kind blonde man who lifts his eyebrow in a similar way. Eddie blinks the thought away.
“Why’s that?” The priest asks. There’s a tilt in his tone, something in his voice that shifted in the question.
Eddie clears his throat, his leg bouncing in anxiousness, “It’s something I’ve only recently come to terms with.”
“Is there anything in particular that made you realize?”
Eddie exhales a sharp breath. He drags his eyes down the priest’s face. His lips are pink, tugged in a straight line, not revealing any particular expression. His eyes are wide, glinting with a shine that Eddie thinks is something along the lines of expectation or hope. Eddie’s gaze flickers back down to his lips, this time noticing the priest’s barely-there smile.
He doesn’t realize that his leg is still bouncing until the priest’s hand comes to rest on his knee.
“It’s okay,” The priest tilts his head, following Eddie’s eyes, “You can admit it to God for forgiveness.”
Eddie’s breath hitches as the priest’s fingers flex over his knee, gently scratching over his jeans. “I’m in love with my best friend.” It comes out breathless and rushed. That on its own feels like a sin.
The priest’s thumb swipes over his knee before raising an inch higher, now resting an inch above his knee. Eddie stares down at the contact and feels his cheeks flush. He looks back to the priest and is met with a raised eyebrow— raised in question this time.
“Please,” Eddie whispers. It sounds completely pathetic to his own ears but the priest seems to like it, if his hand inching closer to the inside of Eddie’s thigh is any indicator.
The priest hums, looking into Eddie’s eyes that make the brown lock onto his blue, “Tell me more about your attraction,” Eddie sighs at his words paired with his hand groping the meat of Eddie’s inner thigh, “Confess it,” His finger drags over the seam of Eddie’s zipper, “Give it up to the Lord.”
Eddie should be disgusted. Revolted. He has so many negative and conflicted feelings for the Church. He was completely turned off when he found out Marisol was a nun— this should be making him uncomfortable.
But he revels in the sin of it.
Eddie’s arms unlock from where they were frozen at his side. He grabs the priest’s waist and pulls the blonde into his lap. His crotch is framed by the priest’s legs behind him. His blue jeans are contrasted by the priest’s black slacks. The priest rests his arms over Eddie’s shoulders, his fingers carding into the short strands of Eddie’s hair. Eddie drags his hands up the priest’s thighs and draws over the curve of his waist, framing his waist with his hands. Eddie’s throat dries at the thin frame between his palms.
The priest leans in closer, tilting his chin down to level with Eddie, “Tell me.”
Eddie’s fingers grip tighter around his waist. The blonde’s thighs flex in response, wrapping around Eddie’s waist more firmly. Eddie leans in too, tilting his head until his nose brushes against the priest’s cheek. “I’m attracted to masculinity,” He murmurs, feeling the priest’s breath against his lips, “The facial hair,” Eddie runs his nose along the blonde’s stubble. He breathes in the scent of the man above him. He smells woodsy— like the incense of the oil they burn in the censer lamp during mass. “The musky smell,” Eddie says this against the column of the man’s throat, sending his voice into pale skin. He kisses along the priest’s neck, pressing his lips under his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. Eddie breathes against the bump in the priest’s throat, “The adam’s apple,” He frames the bump with his teeth, gently biting over it.
The bump bobs under Eddie’s lips as the priest swallows. “That’s—“ His voice is a bit deeper now, “That’s good. Very good.” He grinds his hips down onto Eddie’s. They breathe moans into the space between them— into each other’s shared breath. “Anything else?”
Eddie pulls back to look at the blonde. His cheeks are flushed red. His jaw is dropped with his lips parted, the bottom row of his teeth peeking from the pink of his lips. His eyes are blown nearly black.
Eddie leans in, brushing their noses together. He hums out an mhm, “I love those long eyelashes that frame your pretty eyes.”
The blonde presses a hand against Eddie’s chest and tugs the other hand through Eddie’s brown hair, tilting his head back. Their lips meet and Eddie swallows his moan in favor of returning the kiss.
Another thing Eddie loves about men— their lips. He was never truly into kissing his ex-girlfriends. Their lips were too plush, too smoothly battered in chapstick or lipstick for Eddie to focus on the feeling of the kiss. It felt as unnatural kissing those lips as his father’s cry against that unnatural couple when he was a kid.
This— the chapped, rougher feeling of the priest’s lips. The scratch of stubble against his own. The thinness of his lips that Eddie’s able to capture between his own. The clacking of teeth as the kiss gets more intense.
This is natural.
Eddie dismisses the fleeting thought that this could feel even more natural with lips just a little pinker and plumper— with imperfect teeth and stubble that covers acne scars—
This will do for now.
Their lips move together, both men fighting for control of the kiss. Eddie gives in when he feels a muscle against his lips. He submits to the priest’s tongue wrapping around his own.
The blonde shifts his hips down again, grinding his hips in circles against Eddie’s crotch. He moans into the priest’s mouth.
Fingers start unbuttoning his shirt. Eddie arches into the hands, displaying his chest for the priest. The blonde parts from his lips and starts kissing down Eddie’s neck and over his chest, kissing over the pec half exposed by his few undone buttons. Eddie gasps and pushes his chest closer into the priest, chasing the lips playing with his nipple. Teeth scrape over the bud and Eddie whines, a weak sound that’s never been pulled out of him before.
“What,” The priest drawls against his chest. Eddie feels the vibrations of the scratchy voice in his muscles. “Your girlfriends never touch you here?”
Eddie swallows down another whine, “No,” He closes his eyes and focuses on the tongue swiping over his nipple, “No, they never knew how.”
“They never knew how to take care of a man?”
He can’t hide the sound that creeps out of his throat this time. “No,” Eddie tugs the priest back up to kiss him again, “Show me how you can take care of me.” He should be embarrassed. But he feels really good about this, about being with a man. This feels easier to him than being with a woman— like he’s been trying to write with his left hand his whole life when writing with his right hand feels more comfortable.
“Right here?” The priest turns his head to glance behind his shoulder, “We’re still in the middle of the Church.”
Eddie huffs. The man against his chest moves with the rise and fall of his breath. “I don’t care. It seems like we both need this.”
The priest rakes his nails against Eddie’s scalp, “Yeah? What do you need?”
“Anything,” Eddie breathes, “Anything you want with me.”
“You’re all mine,” The priest smirks.
He’s not.
He’s Buck’s. Mind, body, heart, and soul. His whole life is Buck’s.
But the idea of giving himself up to a hot priest rushes heat into his cock. He groans and rolls his hips into the blonde’s. The movement is met with the priest’s roll too, the friction in the press doubled. He can feel the priest’s cock against his— just as hard as his own.
The priest unzips his black slacks then unzips Eddie’s pants. He presses two fingers against Eddie’s lips. “Open up for me,” He whispers.
He does. The priest’s fingers are thin and dry in his mouth, but he can’t get enough of the feeling. The weight of something in his mouth soothes him in a way he’s never experienced with sex before. He sucks on the fingers, running his tongue between the digits, feeling over each joint’s shape. He hollows his cheeks and looks up at the man in his lap. The priest’s eyes become heavy with darkness and he pulls his hand back, putting his fingers in his own mouth. He keeps eye contact with Eddie as he licks over Eddie’s spit glistening on his digits.
“Please,” Eddie begs, not even knowing what he’s begging for. He just knows he needs some relief from the ache in his dick. “Please.”
The blonde takes both of their cocks out and wraps his hand around them. Both of them.
Eddie moans, high pitched, never having felt another cock against his own. The dryness in the priest’s palm is a new sensation— especially when mixed with their wet spit on his fingers.
“Y’know you’ll have more sins to confess after this, right?” The priest huffs through his shaky breaths.
Eddie chuckles. It’s a needy sound, a breathy laugh punched through a whine, “I’m not the only one.”
“Better start asking me for forgiveness,” The blonde says into Eddie’s open mouth.
Eddie moans and surges forward to capture the words on his lips. He sucks on the priest’s tongue, extracting a groan from the man. “Forgive me, Father,” He bites under the man’s chin, bruising his jaw, “I’ve had urges, temptations,” He thrusts up, fucking his cock into the priest’s hand, “I’ve given into my temptations, listened to the devil.” The devil tightens his fist and pumps their cocks faster.
“Good,” He tugs Eddie’s lip with his teeth and talks against his lips, “Now let out all your sins. Everything you’ve been holding in,” Eddie’s gut tightens, his stomach coils in on itself, heat rushing through his veins, ”Give it all to me.”
His voice pitches in a broken whine. One last tug has him coming over the priest’s hand. His cock pumps out come against the priest’s cock— the man using that last bit of lubrication to tug himself to completion. The priest comes over Eddie’s cock with a string of curses falling from his lips.
Their chests rise and fall in synced breaths.
The blood settles after rushing through his ears in his orgasmic haze. He looks up and down the priest. The blonde is flushed, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. His forearm is exposed— at some point he rolled up the sleeve of his button down shirt, Eddie notes. His hand is covered in both of their cum.
Eddie grabs the priest’s hand and brings it back to his lips. He opens his mouth and runs his tongue over the priest’s fingers and palm, cleaning their cum, tasting the bitterness of it— not knowing which taste is his own cum.
The priest grabs his jaw before he can swallow, leaning forward to lick over Eddie’s tongue, tasting himself and Eddie.
He pulls back and stares at Eddie. “Maybe we should restart this and have an actual confession.”
But Eddie doesn’t feel guilty anymore.