by Seth King
One morning I’m cleaning up the room while he shops at the grocery store across the street in some little town called Gethsemane, North Carolina. Someone knocks, and I assume Adam left the key and needs to be let in – so I swing open the door and see a short, squat woman squinting up at me.
“Um, hello?”
She looks around. “Hi there, uh, I was looking for Adam Venus’ room, he interviewed at First Baptist last night and left his watch...”
Despite myself, I smile. I always smile when I think about him. “Oh, yeah, it’s not water resistant, he leaves it at half the sinks he washes up in, sorry.”
“Yeah, well, I came to return the watch to Adam. But, uh, you’re not Adam…”
I look over at the table right beside the door. His church papers are in a messy pile right there, so it’s not like I can effectively lie. “Yeah. I’m not Adam. I’m his…I’m traveling with him. I go to his…school. I’m his…friend.”
“You are?”
I glance away for a second. “Um. Yeah. In a way.”
Her eyes narrow. On her key ring is a symbol for Focus on the Family, one of the Christian groups that has campaigned vehemently against gay marriage, and has very close bonds with the Baptist community.
“Listen, lady, why is this important? Can’t I just give him the watch?”
Oddly, she smiles. It seems almost…warm. “My, my, my.”
“Yes?”
“Mr. Venus was very charming during our meeting, but he never mentioned anything about you. Two men, traveling together. You know, down here, I have to say…that’s a bit brave.”
I don’t know what to say, so I just stare at her. It is the most uncomfortable silence I have ever experienced. Bitch.
Finally she sets a paper bag on the table, and I hear the clink of the watch. “Here you go, now. Make sure he doesn’t leave it anywhere else. And give my best to the dear old faculty down at your school – I always have just loved dealing with them.”
She gives me an icier, angrier smile, and then waddles away.
Ten minutes later, Adam is back. I didn’t want to mention the visit, so I slipped the watch back into his bag – he’s so oblivious, he’ll never notice it was gone, anyway.
“What’d you do this morning?” he asks, kissing my head. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m…fine.”
But I’m not. I didn’t trust the look in that lady’s eyes, the glint in her smile, the cheer in her voice. I know, without a doubt, that whatever that was, it is going to become something.
I ask Adam to drive that day, and I settle into the seat (with my phone angled away from him) and start looking into the rules and the past of the Southern Baptist Convention, the ruling body of both Adam’s school and the churches interviewing him. If I’m going to be on this trip at all, for my own safety I’m going to need to know what we’re dealing with. What I’m dealing with.
According to the Human Rights Campaign, the Southern Baptist Convention is the largest Protestant denomination in America, with over sixteen million members. And it also has the single-worst history regarding LGBT people. In 1996, the SBC declared that “even a desire to engage in a homosexual relationship is always sinful, impure, degrading, shameful, unnatural, indecent and perverted.” The SBC website states that “we affirm God's plan for marriage and sexual intimacy – one man, and one woman, for life. Homosexuality is not a ‘valid alternative lifestyle.’ The Bible condemns it as sin. It is not, however, unforgivable sin. The same redemption available to all sinners is available to homosexuals. They, too, may become new creations in Christ.”
Speaking of that last part – the SBC pushes conversion therapy in the form of “preaching” and “witnessing” to gay people. (So, basically, they’re cool with gays, if gays just disown everything about themselves, go to conversion therapy, and become totally different people. Go figure.) The SBC even bans congregations from blessing same-sex unions, or ordaining gay and lesbian clergy.
And the last thing explains exactly what I saw in that woman’s eyes: they don’t allow gay clergy. If anyone finds out about what Adam is, his life as he knows it will be over.
So what in the fucking world do I do now that I’m already on this trip with him, and we’ve already been spotted – twice? I cannot go through my life feeling like a criminal for who I am. Not again…
I do know my first step, though. As soon as we pull off for gas and Adam disappears into the station, I call my supervisor and put in my two weeks’ notice – and since we’re already on break, I will never have to step foot there again. I never would’ve taken the job in the first place if I knew all this – I will not condone these views, and it’s as simple as that. I’ll look somewhere else, start over like I always did, ever since DADT blew up my life. Then I put away my phone and smile, rid of that place forever.
But there’s a complication – I can’t tell Adam that I quit yet. If he knows, then I’ll have to explain the whole story from the beginning, including the fact that I lied about knowing we were being watched.
So now I’m being surveilled by my old employer while Fabian goes on as if I still work there, and as if nothing at all is amiss…
Ugh. And I thought that simply having sex with a gay Christian would be complicated.
Adam Venus
The next day’s church visit is quick – it’s very obvious to me that they’ve already chosen their pastor from a previous visit, so my stop seems like more of a formality than anything else. That night, in Spartanburg, South Carolina, Fab and I start pawing at each other. He got a spray tan yesterday, and he looks absolutely irresistible. But just as we hit the mattress, my phone starts ringing.
I look down at the screen and groan. Crap, I forgot – it’s Professor Meier, my spiritual mentor, the man the school assigned to check in with me occasionally and see how I’m doing on my journey with God.
“Ugh, pause.”
“What?”
“My mentor is calling.”
“Your what?”
“My mentor from school. He prays with me, he asks if I need anything…just hold on.”
“Nope, you already got me going. I’m not stopping now. Just answer, and see what happens.”
I roll my eyes and finally answer the phone, hoping I sound normal, and sit up against the headboard. But to my horror, Fabian does the same exact thing. As I get into my conversation, I lock eyes with him, and his expression is absolutely lethal. He wants me, and the bulge in his pants, which he is not even hiding, is proof.
“How’s your spiritual journey going?” Mr. Meier says soon, as my heart thunders in my ears. Thankfully he’s nice, but so old he doesn’t really know what’s going on at any given moment. I’m thankful as Fabian starts reaching down, moving his hand closer and closer to his bulge as I sit there powerfully…
“Um,” I swallow with a dry mouth. “It’s going…great.”
“Fall into any temptation traps lately? Anything you’d like to talk about?”
As I watch with terrified eyes, Fabian starts rubbing the end of his bulge, ever so slowly. I can see the outline through the thin fabric – a vein here, the tip there. He slides out of his shirt, displaying that rippled body.
“Not…really,” I croak.
“None at all?” he asks as Fabian’s hand slips under the seam of his underwear. As I watch, my body stiff as plywood, he slowly inches them down…until the top of his legs and the tip of his penis is exposed. The end is seeping something glistening and delicious looking. There – I can admit it’s delicious, can’t I?
“Um…I got very angry at someone the other day,” I say, thinking of anything in the world to talk about except the fact that I have a naked man next to me.
“Is that so?”
“Yeah. I lost my temper and lashed out and said some things that were maybe wrong.”
“Let’s talk about that, then. You know Satan likes to tempt us by making us see red. What triggered you?”
Fabian pulls his p
ants down to his knees. He wraps his hand around his penis and starts rubbing, his body tensing and flexing, and he moans very quietly. At this point I cannot put a sentence together.
“He…challenged something I said, and I…I got mad…and I guess, prideful…and I…lashed out.”
“Everything alright now?” he asks as Fabian’s leg twitches. I want him to stop, but – okay, no, let’s get real. That’s the last thing I want in the world. For a moment I let my imagination run wilder than wild – I want to crouch between his legs, explore the space between there, maybe even take him in my hands or into my mouth. How would it taste? How would the skin feel against mine? How does it smell? How would it make me feel? What sounds would he make? How would he move, how would he sigh?
I am so paralyzed, though. I still don’t even know how to get through to myself and pierce through all the layers of emotion that are keeping me from him.
His rubbing speeds up, and his body goes long and tense. I obviously know what’s about to happen, and as Meier goes on and on about something-or-other, I watch without breathing as he gets closer…closer…closer…
“Shall we pray?” he finally asks, just as Fabian leans back his head, goes still for a moment, and then squirts all over his chest. I look away for one moment, shocked, then back again. This felt like a prayer, in a way – it felt intimate and joyful, an honest-to-goodness rush.
“Sure,” I say.
“Dear Heavenly Father, thank you so much for this green earth, and for all the people on it. Please lead us all to the Word, and not to things that may draw us away from you. Help your son Adam not to snap into anger, but to…”
I nod a few times as Fabian slows his breathing and smiles over at me. Finally something takes hold of me and I do it – I reach my hand over, dip a finger into his semen, and slip the finger into my mouth as he watches with shocked eyes. It tastes…salty, and it has a strange, slippery consistency that coats my entire inner mouth. But I don’t dislike it. Actually, it makes me come alive in a way only a few things ever have before – the scent of a passing man’s neck, the fit of football pants on Riley Straub’s legs back in high school. Fabian is my own personal pheromone – that’s blatantly clear already.
“Amen,” my mentor and I say together, Fabian’s salty taste still lingering in my mouth. To taste something he made, something his body produced, sends me over the top.
I hang up the phone, but I’m not done yet. The pleasantness of what I just did – it’s making me want to keep going.
“Fab,” I say.
“Yeah?”
“Can you come twice in a row?”
“Huh? Yeah. Why?”
“Let’s continue. But I want to learn more. Give me a lesson.”
“A lesson?”
I take a deep breath, then meet his eyes. “On how to suck you.”
Fabian Blanco
A minute later my Adam is between my legs, like I instructed. He is so beautiful it makes me shiver. This won’t fix anything, and in fact it’s just a Band Aid on a gushing wound. But perhaps it will smooth the waters for just a moment. And besides, I’m fucking horny.
I glance over his shoulder and notice again from a notepad that our trashy little hotel is called Garden of Eden Paradise Motel, which I try to ignore. But seriously, couldn’t the church have arranged a Ramada Inn or something a little less packed with meaning? Ugh.
“You sure you ready for this?”
Nervously, he nods.
“Okay, baby. The most sensitive part is the tip, and maybe also the balls. Start by licking the tip of me.”
He leans in, and his tongue makes contact. Ahhh, yes. It feels like perfection.
“Yeah, yes. Just play around a little.”
He begins exploring me. He’s surprisingly good at this. I know I should feel guilty for corrupting him, in a place named after the garden where Adam and Eve were also corrupted, but I don’t. After all, he was born this way. No point in delaying the inevitable, right?
“My balls now,” I say. “They’re sensitive. Yes, good. Rub my tip with your hand while you suck my balls.”
He looks up at me one time and then slides further south. Ahhh. I could blow right now, I really could. My recovery time is already quick, but with his gorgeous face down there, I could probably cum twice more.
“Do you like this, baby?” I ask, and he nods. “Good. Now take it deep. It’ll make you gag a little, but just ignore it.”
Before he takes my shaft, he looks up again. It makes me nervous to even make eye contact with him, but I shake it off. I like him so much it gives me butterflies even when he is between my legs with my cock in his eyes.
“Okay, here goes…”
He takes me to the root, and his throat is so deep, so wet…
Fuck. I’ve waited so long for this, imagined it in my dreams for weeks, and now that it’s here I can barely control myself. But even with all my fantasizing, it is so, so much better than I wanted it to be. We needed this union, this joining in the physical sense. It’ll make our bond deeper, to get to know each other’s bodies better. It just adds something in a way I can’t really explain.
He starts bobbing up, down, and soon I realize he likes it. He really likes it. He starts doing things I didn’t even teach, and very quickly I’m ready to burst.
“Can I come in your mouth?” I gasp.
“What?”
“I’m asking, to make sure.”
“Of course. I want it.”
“Good. And Adam?”
“Yeah?”
“Um. Something is…distracting me. Can you take off your cross necklace while you suck my dick?”
He looks down.
“Not a huge deal, it’s just…awkward,” I say, and he laughs and slides it around his neck. Then I relax and get into the moment. Which isn’t hard, with this guy between my legs. “Yes, babe, just like that – ahhh.”
He sucks and chokes and sputters, and the sounds are all glorious. My body starts to go numb, and soon his mouth is full of something salty and warm, something I gave him.
“Hey. Where’d it go?” I ask when I’m back down on Earth.
“Oh, I don’t know. I didn’t want to clean up anything, so I just swallowed.”
I stare at him. “You swallowed? On your first blow job?”
“Uh. Is that weird?”
“I mean, sex is never weird, it’s just…freaky of you. I love it.”
He leans back. “Well, great, now I feel like a perv.”
“Don’t,” I smile. “Oh well. We haven’t taken sacrament in a while. At least you got to taste something salty, right?”
And then he hits me in the head with a pillow.
Adam Venus
A few mornings later we walk through a little town together, and for probably the first time I don’t care at all about being with him in public. Sure, I cared less and less as time went on, but it never left the back of my mind – now, it officially has. Nobody knows who I am here, and besides, two guys hang out platonically all the time – what’s the big deal? And even if they do judge, who cares? Fabian’s attitude is rubbing off on me, when he’s not rubbing himself…
I’ve never felt like this around anyone. He makes me feel like…well, myself. I still see God everywhere, and trust in His presence – I see him in the colors in the windows of a little chapel we pass, I see him in the way two little birds dance with each other above a powerline. But I also feel Him between my body and Fabian’s. It feels no different that he is male instead of female – not that I know what that feels like, anyway. But it just feels like love, and love is God. Why can’t He exist there, too? Why is love only reserved for Adam and Eve? What about Steve? Because something complicated is happening, and I can’t pretend I don’t love Fabian anymore.
He makes me so happy. He has bloomed in me, his name lives in big dreamy letters over my skull every day like a flower crown from the stars. My love for him lives in the little moments, but it is alive and it is electric
and it is not going anywhere. I know I love him when he hops into the car and I smile like a cat who just found a streak of sunlight in the living room, and become taken over by this urge to just reach over and rest my hand on his leg. I know I love him when we’re walking and I look over and just smile at him and want to dissolve into the smile he gives back. I know I love him in the way I want to build him into all my plans and in the way I don’t feel like I am me unless I am with him. My world is better because he exists in it.
I cannot lie – best of all are the hookups. The fear is fire, the guilt is gasoline, the passion is the match. An exquisite sort of violence exists between us – every touch against my skin carries the force of an August thunderstorm, his chest against mine sets off shockwaves in my bones. Every kiss is a revolution, every ounce of semen is elixir. My mind is still a battlefield, with the natural battling the supernatural every day, fending off guilt and shame and all the rest, but I don’t surrender. I fight. We don’t push much beyond the boundaries I’ve set, but we push enough, and I have never felt so alive in my entire life than I do during these…encounters, or whatever you want to call them.
All of this tells me one thing, one simple and undeniable thing: I love him. And I can’t run from this anymore, whatever it is. God’s covenant offered me protection and affection, love and light and forgiveness, all those good and wonderful forever things, down the stairs and up the roof and everywhere in between. But suddenly Fabian has become all of my light, my halo – and yes, I am fully aware of the implications of my obsession. I also know we are all inherently flawed, cursed with the stink of original sin, and I know God keeps ledgers of all our transgressions and marks them against us. But I’m also trapped, stuck between something I want, and something that scares me witless.