Page 27 of Gay for Pray
EVEN WITH HIS HAND clasped in mine, I’m a little surprised to glance over my shoulder and find Theodore following me, his lips parted around our kiss and his eyes bright with desire. I’m learning how much gold emerges from those brown depths when he’s excited, and I clutch that secret knowledge close to my chest. Of all the shocks this abrupt shift in our relationship has brought, that might be my favorite.
I drag him into the church, charging right up the center aisle between the pews. The enormous depiction of Jesus towers over us, watching us scurry through the empty chapel toward the side door that leads to the back. His eyes prickle on my neck, and I worry Theodore might drop to his knees and beg his god to intervene in this, but he doesn’t, and we successfully escape to the back rooms.
This area is equally empty. No one has much reason to be here when there’s neither choir practice nor Mass. The priests don’t live here, and the cleaners come later in case someone wanders by wanting to pray. Technically the building is open all day for anyone to pray in, but while I hope to get down on my knees today, it certainly won’t be for that.
The choir practice room looks like any other music room in any other school. Beige and plain, with a few rows of chairs all facing a podium and white board at the front. We’ve both spent a lot of time here for choir practice, so we both know this roomwill be empty all day on a Monday afternoon.
It’s perfect.
I turn to Theodore, pulling him against me, seizing those lips that fell so eagerly against mine not once but twice. It was startling both times, but kissing him now helps cement the reality that he actually wants me. The uptight choir boy who hated me a few days agowantsme.
And fuck me, I want him too.
The shock of it hits me like an electric current, but there’s no denying it when I’ve got him in my arms. I want Theodore, and the evidence is straining against my jeans until I think I might burst. I break away from his mouth gasping, but keep clutching his shirt so he can’t run away. If he has second thoughts and flees, I might just explode.
I glance down and find some…verysolid evidence that he isn’t going anywhere. I chew on my lip to keep from grinning too much, and when I look up, Theodore is all but panting at me. He goes to grab me, but I slow him down.
“We might not want to do this in the middle of the room,” I say.
I scan the space, then haul him toward the storage closet. We cram ourselves inside among music stands and shelves of old sheet music, and it strikes me that a closet in the back of a church is a hell of a place for Theodore to have his first gay experience.
After we drop our backpacks on the floor, I spin us around and shove Theodore against a clear span of wall between shelves. He grunts, but it contains more lust than pain. When I palm over the erection tenting his stupid, ugly khakis, he groans pitifully.
“Ever done this before?” I ask.
He shakes his head, confirming my suspicions. First time, and it’s in a church closet. We might spontaneously burst into flames the next time we walk through the doors of this place,but even that seems worth it in the moment. Theodore is a nice, hardy handful against my palm, one I can’t wait to explore far more thoroughly than by rubbing through clothing.
I can’t wait any longer. I hold his gaze as I sink to my knees. Theodore gapes at me as his brain works through the implications of a position that’s otherwise pretty familiar to him. What I plan to do is a far cry from praying, but you could certainly call it a form of worship.
I watch him as I tease the clasps of his khakis. The hideous pants need to go, but I force myself to take my time, pulling down the zipper one tooth at a time, until Theodore is trembling, his ragged breaths puffing down to rustle my hair.
His briefs outline his thick, fully erect cock. Fuck, is it going to be a mouthful. I forget about holding his gaze, transfixed instead by the prize he’s been hiding for all his life. What a crime that I’m the first person besides himself to ever see it.
I stroke over his briefs, and he trembles under my touch. Heat pours off his body, washing over me and carrying with it a musk of desire. I hook my fingers in the band of his briefs, peeling them down with agonizing patience, watching as his cock springs free. It’s hot and flushed and standing to attention, veins running along the thick shaft above a thatch of slightly darker hair than the stuff on his head. The head is cut, good Catholic boy that he is, and I lick my lips as I size him up.
I grab him, thumb tracing the underside of his head. Theodore gasps and straightens. His nails creak against the wall at his back.
“Calm down, Choir Boy,” I say. “I haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet.”
He whimpers in response, and I stuff down my smile by holding him steady and licking along his weighty shaft. At the head, I close my lips around him, tongue flicking along his slit until he arches toward me with a pained moan.
I pull off, leaving him gasping, stroking along him to keep him good and worked up.
“You want me to suck you?” I say. I make sure to peer up at him from under my lashes as I say it, highlighting my compromised yet infinitely more powerful position. I might be on my knees, but he’s the one crumbling.
He doesn’t respond, and I let my hand move lazily along him as I tease him for an answer. “Come on, Theo. You need to tell me what you want. Otherwise how could I possibly know?”
His eyes flicker down as though his hard cock is evidence enough, and in fairness, it is, but I want to hear this little church boy speak his desires out loud for once in his wretchedly repressed life.
His throat bobs as he swallows and steels himself. “Y-yes,” he says. “Yes, I want you to… Please, Jude, I…”
He’s been through a hard couple days, and I’m horny as fuck from being pent up throughout my time at this university, so I take pity on the both of us and finally close my lips around him. I don’t just play with his head this time, however. I let myself sink down, inch by gloriously thick, hot inch, taking him deep into my mouth. He lies heavy on my tongue when I reach that thatch of dark blond hair at his base, and I groan from the glorious fullness heating my mouth. It has been way too long since I’ve tasted a man, and Theodore tastes like everything holy and sacred. Next time a priest puts one of those horrible, dry crackers on my tongue during Mass, I’ll be thinking of this instead, the heat, the fullness, the way it satisfies me down to the pit of my stomach.
I bob along him, using my hand to steady him but moving my whole head in my attempt to take him deep. Theodore groans above me, his hips giving furtive little hitches from the pleasure racking his body. I won’t say it’s not satisfying to have this kind of effect on a man. It inspires me to suck him more voraciously,letting him delve toward my throat even though it stirs my gag reflex. I know how to stuff that down for the sake of something this good, and I do, gradually spearing myself deeper and deeper until my mouth and nose are full of the taste and scent of him.
I groan because, God, he’s glorious. My own cock is crying out for attention, throttling me with increasingly urgent need, but I wouldn’t dare break from this task—especially when I feel a sharp tug in my hair. In his excitement, Theodore grabbed for the closest thing he could reach, and the curl of his fingers sends sparks racing down my spine. I’ve never come from sucking a guy off, but I just might if Theodore keeps groaning and pulling and jerking his hips.
“J-Jude,” he gasps. “I think…I think something is gonna happen.”
