Page 102 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

My eyes water as he fits himself into my throat, and I fight my gag reflex. Slowly, he eases in further until my jaw feels unhinged, and my nose is smashed against his pubic bone. More suffering. More deliverance. I feel my eyes rolling back as I take him so deep it threatens to cut off my airway.

“Unh…fuuckkk…Christian...” My name is the last thing I hear as his cock throbs and spills, forcing me to swallow, which makes him cry out. The sound is as filthy as it is wrecked. “God, you precious thing,” he says, releasing my head from his hold. I cough as I pull off, my drool in strands everywhere as I separate myselffrom his cock. I sit up just enough to rest my head on his chest and take a few gasping breaths before I feel like I’m not drowning anymore.

He wraps an arm around me and holds me against him, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Perfect.”

30

CHRISTIAN

When Silas tried to back out of drinks, I knew something had happened—that what Gibson and Marianne did affected him somehow. When I see him, however, it’s obvious what Graham Lawther’s choice was.

My friend looks like he’s barely keeping his shit together. Dark-haired with even darker, expressive eyes, Silas is slightly shorter than I am, but he’s a lean, running machine. A marathoner and personal trainer. He and I met a decade ago at one of the only union meetings I ever went to when I first got my doorman job. I figured it might be a good way to meet people, and it was, but Silas is the only one I still speak with.

Eventually, I lived with him, Drew, and Eric, another doorman from the union meeting, for a few years in an apartment in Greenwich Village rotating between two bedrooms and a sleeper sofa. With shift work, it wasn’t as bad as it could have been since Drew always worked nights and Silas was on days at the time. My own shifts haven’t been consistent until recently.

But unless Silas has been working nights, the dark circles under his eyes mean he’s not sleeping for some other reason, and I have my guess.

“Hey,” he says quietly as I stand to give him a hug.

“Hey.”

We embrace, and he holds on tight for a brief moment before letting go and shaking his head, like he’s trying to clear it. “Thanks for coming,” I tell him.

“Sorry about that. I’ve got some shit going on.”

“Let’s talk about it,” I say, not bothering to beat around the bush.

His eyes flash with suspicion. “I think I’d rather not.”

“Is it about Graham?”

He squints at me. “Why would you ask?”

I’m the first to admit, when I found out Silas was moving in with the dude, I gave him hell for it. Talk about acting outside of your own interest by carrying on with someone who supports anti-gay legislation when you are in fact—gay. Which Silas is.

Lawther is regularly in the news spouting off about marriage being meant for a man and woman for the purpose of procreation only, and how drag queens are indoctrinating our youth. He’s pro book bans for fuck’s sake. Silas’s only defense at the time was “he’s not like that.”

But he never elaborated on what the senator is actually like. Although, he did eventually tell me how they met. It was the magic combo of Silas being a doorman at Graham’s buildingandtraining clients at the Senator’s gym. Classic gym crush. They were running into each other all the time, Lawther hired Silas to “train” him, and here we are.

“Before I get into that, I want to say it’s good to see you. I miss you, and I hope we can do better in terms of keeping up.”

He shifts, taking a deep breath. “Yeah. I guess I’ve been a stranger. Drew says the same thing.”

“I don’t judge you, Sy.”

He averts his gaze and scratches at the scruff on his cheek. “I don’t blame you if you do. I get it.”

“I know we don’t always get a say in who we fall for.”

“Chris, if you don’t mind—I don’t wanna talk about it. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on with you? Or better yet, what are you drinking? I’ll buy us a round.”

“There’s a waitress. And I’ve been hooking up with Gibson Hayes.”

His head jerks. “Oh.” A brief silence passes and then, “I guess you’rereallynot in a place to judge, then.”

“Told you. Anyway, it’s not really serious, but it’s interesting.”

“Wait—wasn’t he friends with your dad?”

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