“But you don’t owe me anything. If you...need to stay here, at the church, I under—”
His hand clamps hard against my mouth, cutting my sentence off early. My eyes widen because this isn’t really like him. Father Roman is patient and gentle, but the way he’s looking at me now shows a man who is desperate and afraid.
“Nod yes or no,” he says darkly, without removing his hand. “Is there even an inkling of a chance that you and I could have a future together? More of this, sex and companionship and whatever else you want? Is there even a speck of a chance?”
Eagerly, I nod. “Yes, but—” I mumble against his hand.
“Then it’s worth it.”
“You’re giving up so much,” I cry, tears starting to spring in my eyes. “For me.”
He releases my mouth and uses his hand to pull my face close to his, so I can smell the soap on his skin and the toothpaste on his breath. It’s magical, being so close to another person. I never once felt this close to God, and I know deep in my heart that this is what God would want, for us to experience the delicate intimacy Roman and I share.
“Look what I am gaining,” he responds with the same amount of intensity. His eyes moisten as he gathers my body as close to his as he can. “Banish every doubt about yourself from your mind, Cora. The minute you walked through that door on Christmas Eve, you were mine. You’ve always been mine.”
It’s those words that unhinge me. Whatever was holding me together is undone by this proclamation, and I shudder with a sob as I bury my face in his chest. I’ve been so alone for so long, and I prayed for this, to know love and family and belonging, and somehow, I knew even back then that I would find it here. I thought in some way this church would be my home, but it was really him. He is my home.
Before I finish crying into his now wet T-shirt, he pulls my face up to his and kisses my lips, not caring that I am soaked with tears.
“People will try to tell us that this is wrong, that we broke our vows and committed an unforgivable sin, but imagine how sad it would have been to live our lives without this. God is forgiving. If you think these consequences are bad, consider what they could have been? Living a long life of regret and loneliness. I can handle some angry priests.”
A deep sigh softens the tension in mybody, and I begin to relax. “I have to move back in with my dad,” I reply.
“Not a chance. I have money saved. I can afford something for you so you don’t have to go back there.”
“I can’t let you do that,” I reply, using my pajama shirt to soak up the tears pooling around my eyes.
“Yes, you can. I will keep you safe, Cora.” I wish I could articulate now just how safe I feel already, latched onto his body like a lifesaver. I’ve never known a life without fear or worry.
“Where will you go?”
Silence stretches between us for a moment as we gaze at each other in the dimly lit room. “That’s up to you,” he replies, after seeming to deliberate for a moment.
“I don’t want to be without you. I hate being without you.” It’s an easy answer, and I don’t need to think about it for long. Are we moving too fast? Talking about moving in together when we’ve only really been dating for a day, but we are as unconventional as you can get.
“I was hoping you would say that,” he replies. He presses his warm lips to mine again and one kiss turns into a hundred kisses until an hour goes by with nothing but making out like teenagers.
Before we fall asleep, he settles between my legs and we have sex again, this time much quieter and slower than the shower. Then, somewhere past midnight, naked and sated, we drift off to sleep. Just before my dreams take me, he whispers against my cheek, “Merry Christmas.”
I barely manage a reply before I’m asleep, and I don’t dream a single thing all night. Wrapped in comfort, there’s not anything my mind could conjure that could be better than this.
Epilogue
One year later
She’s almost there. I can tell by the way her thighs flex around my ears and her back arches. Any moment now she’s going to start moaning her head off, but until then, she holds her breath and fights the climax she has no control escaping.
“God, Roman, don’t stop,” she pants, clutching hard to the headboard as her hips fly upward.
She doesn’t have to tell me not to stop. There’s no chance of that happening. I don’t find pleasure in denying her, and I’ve never once made her beg to come, although that idea does sound appealing. But it also sounds cruel, and I don’t have it in me to do anything that causes my girl discomfort.
Hence why I’m wearing her legs like earmuffs and blissfully buried in her warm sex, sucking on her clit like I’m trying to milk the orgasm straight out of her body—and it works. A moment later, she’s levitating, a guttural cry escaping her lips while her pussy pulses against my mouth.
Fucking heaven.
“Oh my God, fuck me,” she cries out as she comes down from her euphoric high.
“I’m going to be late for work,” I reply, but even then I’m unbuckling my pants, anticipating the feeling of sinking into her wet heat.
“They’ll forgive you.” Her legs hook around my hips and she pulls me into her body for the second time today. I miss Christmas break already, the two weeks I had off between the classes I’m teaching at the college, when Cora and I had nothing but time in the day for this. We both joked that hopefully the unencumbered fornicating time would maybe help to ease the constant craving for sex so we could start the new year like normal people and less like horny rabbits.
It didn’t work. In fact, I think it had the opposite effect.
It’s just the honeymoon phase, I tell myself, even though we’re not even married, yet. I haven’t asked her, and she hasn’t brought it up. We still talk about forever and kids someday and moving into a bigger house when I can manage a better paying position, but Cora is still so young and I’m afraid to see her taking any vows. I want her to feel free as long as she can, even if she promises she feels plenty free now.
I have her legs draped over my right shoulder as I come, a sheen of sweat covering my face. And she looks blissfully satisfied as I hover over her to give her a kiss.
“I wish I didn’t have to go.”
She smiles up at me, running her fingers through the beard I’ve been growing since I was laicized. “Help others. Find God. Live in peace.” Ever since I told Cora about my mother’s dying wish for me, she’s taken it to heart. She repeats it to me every time I get frustrated in this new life or struggle to find my way as a regular man with a regular job. Cora is convinced that my mother meant for me to live this life, that God could be found in everyday moments like falling in love. She believes that I’m living in more peace now than I ever was as a priest, and I can’t argue with her there. Even when work or money stress me out, I find something peaceful about the normalness of it all. I wasn’t truly living when I was a priest, I was simply devoting my life to it. I don’t regret my time with the clergy, but I’m actually living now, and I know this would have made her happy.
“Don’t quote my mother while I’m still inside you,” I joke as I quickly pull out. Cora yelps before shimmying off to the bathroom to clean herself up. After fixing my pants and combing my hair for a second time, I kiss my beautiful girlfriend goodbye. I take the image of her naked and smiling in the bathroom, wearing nothing but just-fucked hair, with me on my walk to campus.