Lost & Found Ch. 02

When my words died out, I stood and walked towards the door. I didn’t look back, I couldn’t. I was reaching for the door when his voice stopped me. I still couldn’t turn around. I shook, knowing I needed to face his condemnation. I was about to be ostracized from the one place I had found peaceful. My hands were trembling while I tried to wipe away the tears. I couldn’t hide behind their blurry tracks. I turned to face Paul. There were tears in his eyes and when I looked at him, I watched one of them fall, slowly tracing the contours of his face. That sight hurt more than anything else I have ever seen. I couldn’t bear to know that I caused him pain; because I really did love him. Even though I didn’t deserve it and it was impossible, it didn’t stop me from loving him.

I watched as Paul stood and walked slowly towards me. I braced myself, knowing I had no recourse but to let him do what he will. But I was shocked when he hugged me. He wrapped his arms around me and rocked me slightly. His extra three inches in height put my nose right at his throat. The gentle, tender gesture had me break down and cry again. It had been so long since anyone had touched me. I clung to him and cried some more. Some way, some how, Paul didn’t hate me. He may not want to ever see me again, but he was kind enough to offer me comfort. When I was cried out, Paul pulled me away from him and looked in my eyes. He had cried too. His green eyes were brighter and his lashes were spiked from the tears. I gathered my courage, enough to speak.

“You don’t hate me?”

His smile was warm and full of so much emotion, many of which I couldn’t name. “No. I hate what you did. I hate the circumstances that led you to do it. But I don’t hate you. I couldn’t.”

Paul led me down the hall to a bathroom so I could wash up a little. My eyes were puffy and my nose was all red, but I felt better. Not perfect, but a little less alone, a little less wretched. When I left the bathroom, I smiled shyly at Paul and he walked me to the door of the church. He stood and watched as I crossed the street to my boarding house. I waved at him before I went inside. I lay down on my bed, and stared at the ceiling for a while. The next thing I knew, it was morning. I had slept the night through again.

I felt different. Not bad and not necessarily good, just different. I wasn’t as jumpy that day at work. My boss noticed the difference. He told me that he had had his doubts about hiring me, but he was now glad he had. He told me to take Friday off and enjoy the three-day weekend. As I walked home from work, I decided to go see Paul again. When I got to the church, I headed for the vestibule like always. I sat down and waited. I was there at the usual time, but Paul didn’t show up. I waited for a good twenty minutes and was worried about him. I thought about seeking out one of the other priests and asking about him, but I saw no one and left. I felt kind of lost. I crossed the street and trudged up the stairs to my room. There was a man standing outside my door. He was wearing scuffed, lace-up boots, well-worn, faded jeans and a v-neck shirt. He had a leather jacket hooked on a finger over one arm. He was facing away from me. His legs were encased in that soft denim so invitingly. His muscular, broad chest was showcased to perfection by the soft white cotton. He was tall; his hair was dark. From the light outside the window, I could tell there was a wealth of hair pouring from the V in his shirt. Then he turned towards me. I almost fell down. Paul!

“Hello, Jason.”

“Paul? What are you doing here?”

He smiled that same, bone-melting smile at me. “I am taking the weekend away to make a few decisions. I’m going to spend it in my grandfather’s house. I was wondering if you wanted to join me?”

That kind of stopped me. Join him? It was going to be a form of torture. I thought he was handsome in his priest uniform. How would I resist him looking like this? My heart beat a little faster and I felt myself thickening at the sight of him as he shifted his feet, emphasizing a decent bulge in the faded denim. But he’s a priest. It doesn’t mean anything. I agreed. I went inside and grabbed a few items and we set off in my car. We drove out of Portland to the east. We ended up outside of Troutdale, just twenty minutes away. We pulled up in front of a little house. I asked if his grandfather would mind a guest. Paul laughed and told me that the house was his, left to him by his grandfather. I was embarrassed, but he laughed it off. We unloaded the bags and a few groceries, went inside and ordered a pizza. We sat in the living room and ate and talked and had a really good time. We didn’t talk about the last night at the church.

After a couple of hours, we were both yawning. So he showed me to my room and then where to find towels. I took a shower and went to bed. Prison got me used to sleeping in my underwear and a t-shirt. But living on my own the last few months, I slept in the nude. I saw no reason not to do the same here. I drifted off to sleep. A few hours later I was enmeshed in a nightmare. I couldn’t wake up. I was in the gym again, but this time I was cutting up my boss. I cried out and was wrapped immediately in Paul’s arms. I guess he had heard me crying out and came to make sure I was okay. I shook hard and grabbed hold of him. I didn’t cry, but I was shaken from my dream. He stroked my back and I soon calmed, only to become aware that Paul wasn’t wearing a shirt. I became aware of how good he smelled. My face was pillowed on his chest and it was covered in a mass of soft, downy hair. It was so thick; I couldn’t see the skin underneath. I felt the muscular planes of his back under my fingers. Each breath he took rubbed more and more of his hairy front against me. I got hard, real hard. I pulled away. There was moonlight pouring in from the window. I saw all of Paul. He was naked and just as hard as I. I was shaking again, but this time from arousal. I looked in his eyes and they were just as hungry looking as I felt. Before I could think about it, I kissed him. His lips met mine slowly, tentatively. If he had met my hunger with hunger I might have not thought, but his response was so much slower than mine. Then I remembered that he was a priest. I pulled away and hid my face, because now I was about as unredeemable as I could get. First I almost killed my best friend, now I tried to corrupt a priest.

“I’m sorry Paul.”

His voice was shaky, but so very kind. “Jason…”

Mortification heated my face, shame tightened in my chest, but neither did anything to dampen my erection. “No, look. I’m sorry. I know you can’t. My god, you’re a priest. I can’t believe I did that. You must think I’m evil.”

“Stop that right now!” His vehemence snapped my attention to his face. “You are not evil. And for your information, there is no collar on me.”

“Yeah, now.”

“No. I haven’t taken my vows yet. There was no white to my collar Jason.” At my confused look, he explained, “Meaning I’m not a priest yet. When I met you, I was wrestling with my vocation. It wasn’t right for me. I was told to take this weekend to make sure that I didn’t want to take vows. When I get back on Monday, I will be released from the church.”

Surprise overrode all other feelings, but deep down, was a small kernel of hope. “You aren’t a priest? You aren’t going to be a priest?”

“No and no. I decided to become a priest because I didn’t want to tell the world that I was gay.” His face became ruddy from embarrassment and his eyes became sheepish. “I come from this big Irish family. Priests are common, gays are not.”

Understanding filled me. How could I not understand? “Oh.”

He chuckled. “I tell you I’ve decided to leave the church because I’ve fallen in love with you and all you can say is, ‘oh’?”

He loved me? “Wait, you didn’t say that you were in love with me.”

He giggled and looked embarrassed. “Oh. I guess I forgot that part.”

Warmth filled me, hope exploded inside me. “You love me?”

His smile was so warm, so loving. I know understood all I had seen in his eyes. “Very much. With all my heart.”

I was so surprised, so shocked. “But why? How? Knowing what I did?”

He cupped my face with his hand, rubbing his thumb against my cheek. “You’re not the same scared boy anymore Jason. Besides, you need me.” He chuckled. “And I’ll let you in on a little secret: I need you too. Now is the part where you tell me how you feel.”

“Of course I love you. I just didn’t think that this was possible. I didn’t…”

He leaned towards me, brushing his lips against mine. “Good, stop thinking. I want to make love with you.”

That stopped me. I started wringing my hands. What if I hurt Paul too? “Will you tie me up Paul?”

He paused. “Is that something you like?”

“No. I just want you to be safe.” He laughed at me until he realized that I was serious. He looked in my eyes and I saw the tears form. He blinked rapidly, but one escaped, trailing down his cheek.

“Do you trust me Jason?”

“Yes.”

“Do you trust me enough to believe that I trust you?”

I looked away “No.”

He pulled my face back, so I could look in his eyes and see the sincerity in them. “I do. I know you won’t hurt me.”

With that he was kissing me. He lay beside me on the bed and started running his hands over my skin. He scraped my nipples and moved his hand lower and lower until he reached my shaft. He encircled it with his fist and moved on me. His movements were gentle, but clumsy. I stopped his hand and turned to face him.

“Have you ever done this before?”

“No.” His look was embarrassed and he shrugged. “Am I doing it wrong?”

I chuckled and kissed his brow. “Not at all.” I pulled his face even with my own, looking into his eyes. “Why?”

“I thought if I was going to be a priest, it would be best to never know.”

I kissed him, pulling him into my arms. Paul ran his hands up and down my body, commenting on how strong I was and how toned I was. I explained that there wasn’t much to do in prison, so I had worked on my body. I didn’t have any tattoos; I hadn’t wanted any. I lifted the blankets so we could finally touch along our whole bodies. His body was covered in hair, soft and springy. My body had practically none. It took weeks to grow my goatee. I had a smattering of pubic hair and a little under my arms, but I was mostly hairless. All that hair on him was like extra wood for my fire. It rubbed and scraped against my already sensitive skin. It was heaven.

As we kissed and moved our hands over the other, I stayed on my back, pulling Paul on top of me. I let him move and let him direct the flow of our lovemaking. I didn’t want to pressure him and I didn’t want him to be afraid of me. I was determined to never again have someone fear me. He lay on top of me, with one thigh wedged between mine. Our cocks lay next to each other, nested in the downy thatch of soft hair on his belly. I felt him instinctively push against me, feeling his thick shaft rub against me, feeling him grind himself into me. I heard his moans and realized that I was adding some of my own. It was wonderful, the sensation of having someone move over me, holding me, rubbing my body with his. He moved faster and faster over me, and I felt myself tingling with impending release. Paul pulled back from kissing my neck so I could look in his eyes. His face was tight with desire. He was so hard and so turned on. His breath was panting. I felt the sensation of his body thickening, he was getting harder and his breath hitched. Then he cried out and I felt a warm flood hit my stomach, flowing around my shaft. I thickened harder and felt myself let go, shattering in ecstasy. Each wave that passed through my cock I called out. My pleasure was so intense, so strong. Then the spasms stopped and I felt Paul collapse against my body. My arms went around him and I cradled his head against my shoulder. We were both trembling. I wanted to hold him forever.

We lay there, his body half on mine. The sex had been phenomenal, beyond anything I had ever known, but the holding afterwards was almost as good. It was sweet and poignant. Neither of us slept, we just held each other; brushing a kiss against whatever body part we could reach without moving too much. This was so much more than I thought. In all my dreams, I never thought that this would be a part of it. I had no idea. Time really had no meaning as we lazed away the time, stroking idly with a hand or a kiss, sated and warm. Eventually we dozed.

I awoke the next morning and stretched big and loud. I heard Paul laugh and turned to him, he was sitting by me on the bed and smiling. He had the sheet draped delicately around his hips, over his lap. He was watching me, and it looked like he had been for a while. I smiled big and reached a hand out to cup his face. I pulled him down and met his lips with a kiss, slow and gentle, almost playful. When we parted, we were both grinning.

“Did we do everything right last night, Jason?”

His innocence, his almost awkwardness, I found very dear. “What do you mean? I thought it was pretty damn right.”

His face blushed and his shoulders shrugged. “I mean we didn’t do anything physical. We just kind of, I don’t know, rubbed against each other.”

“And this is wrong?”

His smile was warm and so sincere. “No. I just thought that you might be used to more.”

So that’s what this was about. I could put him at ease real quick. “I’m not used to anything. Last night wasn’t my first time, but it was my second.”

His face lit up with delight. “So you have no idea either?”

I chuckled, low and throaty. “Oh I have ideas. But no practical knowledge.”

With that he grinned and told me he was glad we would be learning together. Put that way, I was glad too. I’m glad I didn’t take the easy lay in prison and really glad I fought off the rapists. I pulled him down to me and started kissing him again. We rolled against each other for a few minutes before Paul started kissing down my body. He took one of my nipples in his mouth and played and explored for a few minutes. Then he moved lower. I started to panic. This is how it had started. I grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him up and flipped him over. I moved down his body, moving lower and lower until I could take him into my mouth. I kissed and nibbled, licked and sucked for a long time. I had to catch my breath and fight back a gag when I would push down too far, but I loved having him in my mouth. I loved his taste and the texture of all that soft skin against my tongue. I wrapped my tongue right under his crown and kept swirling it around him. I felt Paul’s deep moans as I worked harder and harder against him. I felt him thicken and cry out as he pulsed into my mouth and down my throat. I tasted and swallowed every thick, creamy drop of him. I tasted him and loved each moment. I pulled up and looked in his eyes. He had a dreamy, sated look and a silly grin on his face. I couldn’t stop myself from kissing him, sharing his flavor with him. He met my kiss and wrapped his legs around me, pulling me against him, adjusting his body, encasing my hips between his thighs. My hard cock rested in his crack, the head rubbing and dripping against his entrance. I was twitching and trembling from my leashed desire.

Paul kept pushing against me, twitching his ring and inviting me inside. I forced myself to go slow. I pushed against him in slow, gentle pulses. I would push and stretch him, but barely enter. Then I would go forward a millimeter or two each subsequent push. When I breached him and his ring clamped on to the underside of my flared crown, I waited, watching his face, looking for signs that he wanted to stop. I saw none and within seconds, he relaxed and moved his hands down to my ass and pulled me deeper. In mere moments I was deeply imbedded to the hilt. I waited again, feeling him stretch and adjust to my invasion. The slight movement of his inner body was almost my undoing. Feeling that warm, slick channel adjust to me was more sensation than I had ever known. I was so close to tripping over the edge, but I took several deep breaths until I calmed. Then I moved.

I glided back and forth over his body, feeling Paul’s legs clamp me, helping me rock into him further, harder, deeper. I felt sweat start to sheen on my body and watched as it beaded on his forehead. I moved down and kissed him, long and hard, feeling all the hair on his chest graze against me. I felt him hard and steely, wedged between our bellies. He was wet and sticky and I could feel him twitch each time I drove hard and deep. This was too much; I was building way too fast. I felt the hard tingles up and down my spine, letting me know it was almost over. I felt my belly tighten, my testicles raise, my cock get harder and thicker. Then the first pulse sent my essence deep into him while I called out my pleasure, screaming it out. Five, six, seven heavy spasms shook my body, propelling my semen out of my body, coating the inside of my love, my lover. I collapsed against Paul’s sweaty, heaving chest still buried deep inside. I slowly came to, my senses returning and felt something hot and sticky coating my stomach, grateful that he had found release too. I looked up into Paul’s eyes and saw the same wonder I felt reflected there. He kissed my forehead and then tilted his head back and laughed. It was infectious and I joined him. When the laughter faded, I was hard again. So was Paul. This time I moved faster, more sure of myself. He gripped me harder, matching my undulations, moving with me. It was over quickly, both of us shuddering hard in completion.

We got up and showered together. I felt myself loosening up, relaxing. I always felt comfortable around Paul, but this was as if I was finding peace within myself. Perhaps actually making love with someone, professing my love and having it returned was what I needed. With that undying support you can only get from your soul mate, your love, do you find peace. We ransacked the kitchen, feeding our hungry bodies, building up energy for what we knew would come. We stopped our exploration from time to time, to eat, to sleep, to shower, and sometimes to just hold on, letting the emotions ride us, knowing that we were loved and supported and safe in the other’s arms.

Since the commute wasn’t that bad, we decided to live in his grandfather’s house. He got a job with the state’s child protective services and worked in the office in Portland. He would get discouraged from time to time, but more often than not, felt that he made a difference. He sure did in my life. After a few months, it was as if the past didn’t matter anymore. The nightmares came less and less each day. I was in love. I had someone to hold, to touch. We were insatiable. Each morning and several times each evening we would come together, coupling our bodies, hot and hungry. Pushing us over the edge into ecstasy. I couldn’t get enough and when he had a cold, I held him while he coughed and sniffled, tucked him into my arms and never let go, holding my raging lust for him at bay. But the moment he felt better, I was on him, holding his hips hard while I drove into him, pounding faster and harder, feeling him cum once, twice, three times before I let go and followed him over the edge.

It was almost a year after we got together before I would let him take me in his mouth. I could let him fuck me for hours on end. I could suck him until he came ten times without stopping. The idea of him taking me in his mouth had me scared, but I let him one night, when he told me how important it was to him. He moved so gently on me. He took such care of me, nipping and nibbling with his lips, wrapping me with his hot, wet tongue, wringing pleasure from me. It took scant minutes before I was shuddering and melting against his tongue. I was shaking from it. I had never known such intense feeling, both physical and emotional before. I started to cry, knowing I was a fool, equating a simple act of love with my loss of control. Paul held me and rocked with me, not knowing why I was so upset. I explained it all to him, letting him know that I knew why I did to Simon what I did.