Stepping Out in Faith - 8. Chapter 6

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 he slept.

Marcus was still snoring softly, curls in disarray and falling all over the place in a giant mop. Andy brushed the soft curls back, and trailed the tips of his fingers along Marcus’ temple.

He ran his palm across Marcus’ cheek and grinned at how much he liked the scraping stubble. Andy remembered the feeling from last night when Marcus kissed his way across Andy’s body and then down in that intimate spot with that sensitive skin. Andy blushed at the memory.

He snuggled closer to Marcus; he was reluctant to leave the safe cocoon of the bed and Marcus’ arms. He breathed the scent of Marcus deeply, potent after a night of lovemaking.

Andy caught himself in mid-thought. He had assuming it was lovemaking. And now that he thought about it, it was lovemaking 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 he 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 anyone he wanted; why would he bother with Andy unless it meant more than just some physical release?

He gazed at Marcus’ profile, serene during sleep, and, without thinking, Andy 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.

He 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 chaste. 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, looking for the time: five a.m. Andy panicked and scrambled out of bed in search of his clothes.

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

“What time is it?” Marcus asked.

“Five 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. His head told him this was wrong, that he should run hard in the opposite direction and never look back. But Andy wasn’t sure he could run anymore. That invisible force had propelled him so far down this path that he wasn’t sure he would be able to find his way back.

Something fundamental had changed in him that first night he met Marcus; Andy couldn’t explain what exactly, but he felt it in the very core of his being. Something was different now, and there likely was no way back.

“If I hurry, I can make it home before John wakes up. He’s an early riser,” Andy explained. He sat down on the bed and put a hand on Marcus’ thigh.

“John?” 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.

“Yeah.” Andy chuckled. “The parish keeps an apartment for us.”

Marcus nodded and sat up to scoot 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 and tried to read Marcus’ eyes, but they looked guarded.

This was a good thing, right? If Marcus wanted his number, that meant they would see each other again. But did Marcus want to meet again for the same reasons as Andy? Either way, it was a temptation he knew he shouldn’t indulge in.

And yet he found himself reaching for the pen and paper on the nightstand and scribbled down his number. Before he could stand to leave, Marcus pulled him in for a kiss—a gentle, sweet kiss that melted his heart.

Andy pulled back, his stomach fluttering. “I have to go,” he whispered. His forehead against Marcus’.

Marcus nodded with a sigh. He lay back down on the bed as Andy stood. The bed sheet pooled low around Marcus’ hips and did nothing to hide the thick morning wood between his thighs. The muscles along Marcus’ body stood out in sharp relief as he stretched his arms up above his head.

Andy let himself take one last look of Marcus’ body. He was forbidden fruit, but Andy couldn’t help but indulge.

He had to go, but he didn’t know how. 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 and hoped his face didn’t show the storm of emotions raging in his head.

Marcus smiled lazily, 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. As he walked past the coffee table, he noticed Marcus’ sketches laying on top. 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 he couldn’t seem to keep the giant smile off his face.

His great mood lasted about twenty minutes, the amount of time it took for him to get home. Because when he got there, John was already awake and putzing around the kitchen.

“Andy, good morning!” John said with a warm smile that quickly turned into a curious frown. “Are you just getting in from somewhere?”

“Um, yes,” Andy said. He opened the fridge and stuck his head in to hide the blush he felt spreading across his cheeks. “I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn’t sleep, so I went out for a walk.”

“Ah, 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 talk to, let me know,” John said with a smile and a wink. “I’m here, and I’m great at listening. I’ve had plenty of practice.”

Andy smiled at the silly joke. He could just imagine the types of things John had heard after decades of sitting in that confession booth. But he didn’t think John would appreciate what he had to say, and Andy had no intention of confessing that particular sin.

“Thank you, John. 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 him that Andy himself couldn’t see?

He 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 that impressive.

He had gotten chubby when he went to college and had never been able to shed the extra layer of fat. His plain, brown hair was so thick there was nothing he could do with it; it just sat there on top of his head. His skin was pasty white, almost sickly, but he 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 and grabbed 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 workout. Well, maybe that could be a solution to his chubbiness. The thought popped into Andy’s head unbidden, so ludicrous that he had to restrain himself from laughing out loud.

Slowly, he manoeuvred his way into the shower and turned the water on hot, sighing as the spray ran down his body and soothed the sore muscles. He grabbed the soap, lathered it up and ran it over his skin. Soapy 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 the crack and ran the tip around the wrinkled skin of his hole. The sensation of his soapy finger reminded him of Marcus’. Letting curiosity get the better of him, Andy pushed experimentally and gasped as the tip of his finger slipped inside.

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 gently slid his finger out and felt the muscles of his hole contracting as if wanting to suck something back in. Andy turned his face into the water, trying to rid the inappropriate thoughts from his mind. He ignored the erection that had developed while he soaped himself down and turned the water cold to shock his body into some semblance of modesty.

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 shirt—the armor of a priest. At one time, he felt secure and comfortable behind the black uniform, but now it felt like a heavy shackle that he couldn’t shake off.

He put the white collar in place and swallowed thickly, almost expecting himself to choke on the noose. 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; he still believed that. And everyone had bad days, he reasoned.

Andy glanced at the thick tome sitting on his desk; it was his copy of the Liturgy of Hours, and he knew he should do his morning prayers before heading into the office. But he didn’t want to pick it up; just the idea of touching the book filled him with a surprising amount of dread.

He approached it cautiously as if it were more dangerous than simply a book of prayers. But Andy knew better; if used correctly, prayers could be powerful weapons, and at the moment Andy wasn’t sure if he was qualified to handle such potent material.

So he didn’t feel like being a priest, Andy argued with himself, but that was all the more reason to put his head down and forge through his problems. That was discipline; that was devotion; that was what Andy had promised to do. So he would do it.

He reached for the heavy leather-bound book and ignored the way his hands shook. He could do this, he told himself, despite the growing sense of dread. He flipped to the correct page and read through the words of that day’s prayer.

They were beautiful words—they always were—but that morning, the words meant nothing to Andy. They weren’t powerful or moving, and he didn’t feel connected to them the way he usually did. They were just words on a page, nothing more.

Frustrated, Andy shut the book, put his head in his hands and tried to come up with his own prayers. He searched his heart for the right words of praise, surrender and obedience. All he found was confusion. He paced the small space of his room and tugged at the collar of his shirt.

This wasn’t working. Why wasn’t this working? This was supposed to be an ordinary, routine part of his day, something he had done a thousand times before. Today should be no different—but today was different, Andy realized. Because he was different.

He wasn’t the same person he used to be, so how could he expect to carry on with his life as if nothing had changed? The realization sent tendrils of fear through Andy’s heart. No, that can’t be right. Andy could not accept that everything he had worked so hard for his entire life was suddenly in jeopardy because of his indulgences. This life, the church, was everything to him, and he refused to let his curiosities and runaway desires take away what he had accomplished so far and what he hoped to accomplish in the future.

He opened the Liturgy of Hours again and forced himself to say those prayers. Never mind that his tongue felt like ash while he said them. He told himself he meant every word of those prayers and ignored the lingering doubt at the back of his mind. What was that phrase people tended to throw around? Fake it until you make it? Yes, Andy would fake it until he made it. He just hoped he would make it sooner rather than later.

When he finally made it to the little office he shared with John, the other priest was already in the middle of preparing for the daily mass. John chatted away about what else needed to be done, the words settling heavily on Andy’s already burdened heart. Nothing remained of the energy he had awakened with that morning, and the only thing he wanted to do was crawl back into bed. He had no idea how he was going to make it all the way through mass.

“Andy? Are you alright?”

Andy snapped out of his thoughts.

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

John returned his smile, but it didn’t look like he was buying Andy’s response.

“You know, Andy, I know I’ve said this already, and at the risk of sounding like a broken record and all that, 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.”

Andy swallowed thickly and nodded. It was a kind offer but one that Andy had no intention of taking. He bent over his desk and forced himself to focus on the task at hand. He didn’t notice the aura of anxiety that radiated off him. He didn’t see John’s concerned frown or the way the older man had opened his mouth as if to say something but then closed it and moved on.

Their daily mass was held at noon, and Andy was grateful that John was in charge that day. He tried to be present and engaged through the singing and reading, but he felt disconnected, and by the end of the service Andy itched to strip off the vestments he wore.

“Father Sullivan, Father Dylan!” Mrs. Marsten, a loud grandmother from the parish approached them at the end of mass. “Thank you both for a beautiful mass today. So deep and insightful.”

Andy gave her a tight smile; if only she knew what had been running through his mind the entire time.

“I brought some cake left over from my grandson’s birthday party,” the older woman said. She presented them with a box.

“Why thank you, Mrs. Marsten.” Andy politely took the box from her. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense, it’s just leftovers.” Mrs. Marsten smiled sweetly at Andy. It was always so awkward when old grandmothers tried to flirt with him—and annoying that it happened so often.

“Mrs. Marsten, how is your grandson?” John asked.

“Oh, he just turned ten. 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,” John continued. “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 John a desperate look.

“Yes, they certainly are.” Father Sullivan laughed. “Actually, Mrs. Marsten, I’m so glad you came 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 and start cleaning up.” Andy excused himself and beat a hasty retreat. He didn’t relax until he was clear across the building.

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

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

He ripped the white collar from around his throat and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt. Marcus—that’s what he wanted. Out of the storm of thoughts in his head, the only thing that was clear was Marcus. Even just the thought of the man helped to ease Andy’s rising panic. He felt his heart rate settle and his lungs open up. Andy closed his eyes and remembered the way Marcus’ arms had felt around him. Safe—Marcus made him feel safe.

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

How’s your ass feeling? Not too sore?

Andy couldn’t help but laugh out loud. It 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. His body responded faster than he could keep his thoughts in check, and he quickly reached down to adjust himself.

I’ll see you at Ritz tonight? Marcus’ text came through again.

Andy’s thumbs hovered above the keyboard. No, he shouldn’t do this. He had just spent all morning running through a list of reasons why he shouldn’t do this. But there was that invisible pull again, that invisible force leading him down a forbidden path. He didn’t know how to say no. He felt like a moth drawn to the flame—a bright, beautiful flame that might burn him. Fighting the urge was hard, so much harder now than it had been before, and Andy didn’t have the strength anymore.

Yes, I’ll be there.

Good. Can’t wait.

The office was thankfully empty when Andy made it back after cleaning up the supplies used in mass. He wasn’t sure where John had gone, but he was just glad that he had the office to himself. The 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.