Preacher's Son

Preacher's Son Chapter 10

Author's Note:

Friends, I appreciate how many of you came back to the story once I revived it. It gladdens my heart and motivates me to keep on going. Thank you also for all your kind words and poignant stories of your own mental health struggles. I do hope that we see more and more acceptance, compassion and accessible resources for folks who struggle with mental illness.

At any rate, this is one of the heavier chapters, and I have included a content warning accordingly. I think we're nearing the finish line with Preacher's Son, so while I'll definitely keep things spicy in upcoming chapters, please note that the aspects of romance and drama will be featured more heavily hereon. I hope that doesn't disappoint folks.

I had ambitious plans for Dagwood and Eli, but given all my health problems (not just the mental one), I don't know if I'd be able to keep the momentum up.

Thank you again for your support. As always, I am at agospelpipe@yahoo.com

I love you all.

And if you can, please consider donating here for the upkeep of this marvelous archive.

Preacher's Son X.1: Eli.

By: Alistair Hamish Gospelpipe IV.

Cw**:** Sexual assault, allusion to suicide.

I hated seein' him like this: pale, worried and kinda pissed off.

"Did that barista ever hit on you?" Dagwood asked.

"Who, Trevor?" Dang. Yeah, he had. A lot. Too slick for me, though.

"He knows better." I said.

"He's obnoxious. He thinks he's charming, but..."

"Dagwood." I interrupted. Might be rude, but this shit wasn't about Trevor. "What's wrong?"

"Seriously?" He spat. "That whole thing with Drew? That's what we go back to, Eli! That fuckin'..." He sighed heavily.

"Dag." What could I say? Fuck that guy? Be here. With me? Sounds pretty fuckin' empty, if you ask me.

What I ended up sayin' was: "I won't let nothin' happen to you, okay?"

"My hero!" he smiled...dang, that smile. "Big strong man o'mine..."

"Ya know it."

"He hit on me, y'know?"

"Trevor? Custom drink trick"

"Is that what they call him here? The Custom Drink Trick?"

"Nah, but they should..."

****************

Not gonna lie, this trip was scary. Violet and I had spoken maybe twice and she'd been comin' on strong. I didn't think Clarence would be around that much, but he's a sweet kid, so whatever. But it wasn't these people who scared me. Dag, on the other hand...man, what if he thought I was boring? A person's hangouts say a lot about them and...I dunno...it's weird that I'm tryin' to impress Dagwood. I mean, he's impressed enough, if you get my meanin'...but it would be nice if he liked it here.

"So nice of you to accompany us on this trip, Eli." Violet had me cornered in the kitchen. "It is so nice to have a local's perspective."

She covered her hand with mine where I was leaning against the counter.

"Ain't no problem, Miss Violet." Miss Violet? The fuck, Remington?

"Oh my God, Eli..." she made a face like she'd bitten into somethin' tart on accident. "Miss Violet? We've talked at school, you big doofus! Miss Violet! Ha!"

"Sorry, Vi-o-let...I just..."

"Oh, don't be bashful," she giggled. "Or, do. You're so cute when you stammer!"

"Uh, thank...you?"

"I just want us to be more...comfortable around each other."

She was squeezin' my hand. What the fuck was this?

"Uh...sure..."

"Tell me," she leaned forward, and, dang, that's a lot of cleavage. "What is this bar where we're going to tonight?"

"THAT," Fuck. "Ahem, that, is Harry's department. HARRY!"

"WHAAAAT—oh, hey, sexy! You're really pulling off that dress!" He was all over Violet. I'd feel bad for her normally, but I reckon she deserves a bit of weirdness after whatever that was.

"I swear to God, Harry Harcourt, if you make some comment about pulling it off me, I will strangle you with my bare hands!" Guess we could all learn from Violet and dealin' with weirdness. Or just horny dudes, I guess.

"Chill, mama!" Harry laughed. "You could use a damn drink!"

"Not here," Violet snapped. "But, yeah, where are we going tonight?"

"Mister Sister!" Harry announced. "Best damn queer bar in town."

"Oh my God, that name's hilarious!"

"It used to be called The Double Life Lounge," Harry said. "But that just made everyone sad."

****************

There ain't nothin' sad about this bar...is what I thought when we got in. The ID thing was a fuckin' joke: the guy at the door just winked at Harry and let us all in, barely looked at those IDs.

"It's for the best," Dagwood said. "I'd forgotten the name of the face filler I was supposed to be on should questions have come up."

Man, I don't know how you get through the day worryin' about 10,000 things the way Dag does. That's the thing about bein' easy goin': it's easy.

"Will you dance with me?" I asked Dag.

"Since when do you, stiff Eli Remington, dance?"

"Since now," I said. "And I ain't stiff right now, pun'kin, but play your cards right..."

This place had some battle of the DJs goin' tonight, and I knew the DJ about to play the next set: he played mostly, like, rock, blues-y stuff.

"What are y'all drinking?" Harry asked the group. "I got first round. Maybe all the others, too; Hiram's treat!"

"Martini." That was Violet. "Gin. None of that olive brine. Maybe one of those adorable onions...wait, no...a twist."

"Gin `n' tonic." Dagwood. Simple and clean.

"Um, White Claw?" Oh, Clarence! We need to protect Clarence at all costs!

"Bourbon and branch." I'm a simple man, too, y'all.

"You got it..." Harry started, but the music changed. A cool-ass guitar took over and the people on the dancefloor whooped.

"C'mon!" I took Dagwood's hand and led him out.

"Byeee!" I heard Violet go sarcastically. What the fuck ever.

Rock me, baby... a woman's voice went_. Rock me all night long._

This woman's voice was like...damn, man. Hot ice? Cold lemon-y water on a hot Southern day?

"Oooh, I like this!" Dagwood said, his arms around my neck. We were startin' to sway...

I want you to rock me like my back ain't got no bones.

Dagwood bit his lower lip. My hands moved down his back and rested against his hips. We weren't leavin' no room between us for Jesus Christ, but I was gon' be respectful.

Then I want you to...roll me, daddy, like you roll your flour dough.

Fuck it. I grabbed his juicy ass and squeezed.

He leaned forward. "You get me so hot, Eli Remington."

"Just volleyin' it back, baby."

And, I say, when you see me comin' go get your rocking chair.

Dagwood's smile was—no other word for it—mischievous. He turned around, back against my chest, one arm around my neck, grinding his ass against my cock that was gettin' very hard very quick.

I want you to rock me, rock me away from here.

"You know I'd fuck you right here, right?"

"Like my back ain't got no bones?"

That fucker.

"Damn straight."

People were starin' but I didn't care. For once, it looked like Dag didn't give two shits either.

I want you to roll me till I won't no mo'.

Why couldn't this damn song last forever?

Chapter X.2: Dagwood.

I stepped away from the dance floor ostensibly to collect myself, my drink, and to use the restroom. I was dizzy, sweaty and a little overwhelmed. Very overwhelmed. The only dancing I'd done before this was at some school dance. My date was one Lacey Auger from the track team who didn't want to bother with finding a date. It was very...sterile. But this? Holy fuck. Eli and I have had a lot of naked fun together, but this dance felt far more intimate than, y'know, his dick up my ass. I don't know how I'd gotten so bold on that dance floor. Maybe it was that woman's voice: cool and clear but with a pine-y bite like this gin had. I need to figure out who sings that song.

"Oh, hey!" Harry was in the restroom, too. "You gonna douche?"

"Harry!"

"You can have this, if you want to!" He said handing me a bottle of Smart Water. "See this nozzle? You can douche with it easy."

"Huh."

"It's called Smart Water for a reason, bro."

"Well, I'm just here to pee."

"Suit yourself."

We washed hands in silence until I asked what I'd been dying to ask since I met this guy, gorgeous as he was.

"Harry," I started reluctantly. "Did you and Eli...ever...?"

"Fuck?" He finished. "Totally. For a whole damn year."

"I see." Why this disconcerted me, I can't say. I mean, I kinda knew that they'd messed around. "Did you have feelings for him?"

Harry shrugged. "Thought I did, but he was the only guy I was doing stuff with, so you can't know if those feelings are real, can ya, if you haven't sampled around."

"That's actually really profound, Harry, damn!"

"Don't sound so surprised!" He said, mock-offended (I hoped). "I'm not a complete idiot, ya know? I got into Columbia for Pete's sake! Jeez!"

"God, Harry," I was stricken. "I'm so sorry, that was..."

"Just messin' with ya!" He laughed. "And, hey, Dag, you ain't got a thing to worry about. Eli and me? Ancient history. Just two guys experimenting."

"But look at you!" I think I was getting a little buzzed. "You're gorgeous! A specimen!"

"Fuck, yeah, I am!" Harry grinned, started to flex his biceps, but thought the better of it. "But, Dag, baby, sweetheart, gum drop: the way that boy looks at you? He ain't ever looked at me like that. And the way you two were on the dance floor...it was fucking hot! You're fine. He's wrapped around your little finger."

"Say, did you really get into Columbia?"

"It's a good thing you're cute, you little bastard..." He pointed the Smart Water nozzle at me, holding it uncomfortably close to my face. "Anyway, I gotta clean out."

"Do you have a...um...date?"

"I mean, I could," Harry said. "We're at a gay bar, anything could happen. Gotta stay prepared!"

I exited the bathroom and made my way towards the bar, eyes searching for Eli.

Oh well, I love you pretty baby;
You're the only love I've ever known.
Just as long as you stay with me,
The whole world is my throne.

This DJ had interesting taste.

"What can I get you, sweetie?" The bartender was a good-looking waifish guy. Pure Peter Pan vibes.

"A gin and tonic, please."

"You got it!"

However, before I could say thanks:

"I've been trying to get that mincing fairy's attention for so long, and you don't even have to try."

I knew that voice.

Beyond here lies nothin'
Nothin' we can call our own

"Drew!"

"Dagwood fuckin' King," He said in a nasal sing-song voice, his face ever so close to mine. "He don't have to try for anything..."

He was drunk. His foul, acrid breath bespoke hours of drinking,

"This guy bothering you?" The bartender asked, eyes narrowed.

"Um, no," I responded, quickly picking up my drink, "He's...a friend from my hometown. Making sure he gets home okay." What a fucking idiot I was.

"Don't do me no favors, motherfucker..." Drew said to...me? The bartender? It didn't matter: I had a tight grip on his arm and we were heading to the back of the club where it was quieter.

"Are you here with anyone else?" I asked Drew, hoping he would have a ride home.

Drew laughed sardonically. "You kiddin'? I ain't bringing anyone here. Fuck, man..."

"I need to figure out a way to get you home or whatever," I was curt. "We can discuss this later."

"I always had a feeling `bout you, King. Fast-talkin' little shit, strutting to class popping those hips, acting like he's better than us..."

"Okay, Drew..."

"Saw you with Remington tonight. Saw how sweet you can be."

Well, I'm movin' after midnight
Down boulevards of broken cars

"Why can't you be sweet to me, huh?"

He was pushing me against the wall, his body pressed against mine. His hands roamed everywhere, taking far too many liberties which I couldn't stop because I was frozen. His touched seemed to taint everywhere it landed with a layer of grime that I could never wash away. Dirty. I was dirty and getting dirtier still because my body was playing out a cruel parody of rigor mortis.

"Be a little sweet to me, Dag," He mumbled into my neck, his hands reaching underneath my shirt, roughly squeezing my pecs. My flesh crawled and a wave of nausea hit. "Y'won't regret it; I'll make you forget all about Remington."

He placed my hand against his crotch. How was he so hard after drinking so much?

Don't know what I'd do without it
Without this love that we call ours

"After I feed that dick into your little pussy: you'll want it all the time," his hands were cupping my ass now, but my motor neurons still had amnesia. "Damn, I bet its sweet...sweet little pussy..."

Drew's touch had become a venom which coursed through me and imperiously stood between synapses, preventing impulse from becoming action. How could this be fun for him? I was rigid! One hand had now traveled down my pants and into my briefs, roughly pulling my cheeks apart, trying to get to my hole. My body seemed even more determined to shut down. So, I--stupefied, powerless, emasculated--did nothing.

"Sweet cherry pie..." That foul, cutting breath will haunt me forever. "You want it too, dontcha..."

Beyond here lies nothin'
Nothin' but the moon and stars.

Suddenly a copious amount of a clear liquid came pouring down on Drew's head. He yelped like a hit dog and jumped away from me.

I heard a phone camera click.

"HEY—" Drew started.

"Why do all you Dreyfuss men have such a rape-y vibe?" My sister, empty coupe glass in hand, was advancing upon a very wet and shell-shocked Drew Dreyfuss. "I have half a mind to shatter this thing and stab you with the stem."

"Violet! What the fuck!"

"Dagwood, can you please not interrupt me defending your honor?"

"It's just murder feels a bit..."

"He deserves worse for what he did. Pig."

"Before you slither away," Violet was addressing Drew now, her voice disconcertingly calm. "Understand that I have a picture of you all wet and gawking right in front of that giant Pride flag with the name of the bar written across it in big bold letters, so you better fucking watch it, Mister Sister."

Drew stormed off, but not before spitting at Violet's feet.

"Trash." She pronounced. "Every one of them."

"Thank you," I said dumbly. "And sorry about your drink."

"It's fine; also, this was, like, my third. I shouldn't have been drinking it anyway."

"Ah." It felt nice to be able to move again.

"Come, let's get you to Eli," she said, tearing her gaze away from mine. "He's looking for you."

Beyond here lies nothin'
Nothin' done and nothin' said.

"Jesus, what the fuck is this song?"

****************

"I'll kill him." Eli said with frightening solemnity after I gave him a very sanitized version of what Drew had tried. Why bring the mood down? Also, I was feeling surprisingly okay. Everything was fine.

"I tried," Violet said smiling. "Dagwood won't let you. What a bore."

"Okay..." I started.

"But we'd make a great team, Eli," Violet winked. "We're both so...murder-y."

Clarence, of all people, burst out laughing.

"Ugh, give it up already, girl, even I can flirt better than that." He took a beat. "Do you think White Claw is a good superhero name?"

"Harry, how many has he had?" I needed to know how many mL it took for Clarence's backbone to emerge.

Harry shrugged.

Eli sighed and turned to his friend. "Hard-on, can you get Violet and Clarence home? Dag and I will...we'll come later."

"Oh, please, by all means, enjoy yourselves!" Violet slurred. "Don't mind me; I only just saved your life."

"Where are we...what are we doing?" I asked after Harry had shepherded Violet and Clarence towards the bar: none of them wanted to end the night yet, it seemed.

"It's `nother place I wanted to show you," Eli said placing his hand against my cheek. "You'll love it."

****************

We were leaving the city behind. The sky grew clearer and the stars came out of hiding—there were so many—all surrounding, perhaps the biggest moon I had ever seen, as if in obeisance.

"The sky's somethin' else in the country," Eli said in response to my awe. "So clear, ain't it?"

"Truly is."

We stopped at a pond of sorts. The water gleamed and its tiny ripples swayed drunkenly to the slight breeze that was playing. It looked like a bolt of dark purple silk steadily unfolding. Eli set a blanket down on the soft sand at the bank while I marveled at...all of it, really. The water, the sky, the verdigris...yeah, all of it.

"Some of us didn't hang out in caves when we were kids." Eli said smiling at my wonder.

"Once," I punched his arm. "I went and sat in that cave once."

"Twice," He murmured before he kissed my forehead. "I bet the water's perfect, though!"

And then he, clothes and all, waded into the river. Once the water was waist-high, he dipped his head underneath and popped right up laughing.

The moonlight clung to wherever his now wet shirt did. Every plane and contour of his muscular torso was illumined. He was breathtaking: a young God forged out of marble and some ethereal light. How did I get so lucky?

Right place, right time, Dagwood, an evil voice in my head went, It's just like Harry said.

Okay, but then explain that first day to me, that magnetic attraction, if you're so smart. I argued back.

"C'mon!" Eli's voice broke my reverie. He was holding out a hand.

So I stepped in (also clothed). The water was wonderfully balmy; there was none of that shock you feel when really cold or really hot water touches your skin.

I took his hand and he, expectedly, pulled me towards him.

There we were: standing drenched in moonlight and water, his right hand against the small of my back and my arms around his neck.

He leaned in and kissed me deeply: it was a ravenous kiss, a kiss of unfinished business, a kiss that was swiftly running away with my breath.

"Hi." He said while I focused on getting my lungs to show up to work.

"Hi,"

"Your heart's racin'"

"Isn't yours?" I pressed a hand against the hard brawn of his chest. "Not as much as mine, though."

"Mmmm, why is that, you reckon?" His hands were cupping my ass.

"There's something in this night..." I mumbled, busy unbuttoning his shirt. "Did you wear white because you knew you were going to do this?"

"Almost always wearin' white, baby, you ain't noticed?"

Fair enough. I'd finally gotten that shirt unbuttoned, and what a surprise awaited me within.

His pecs were, as always, square and carved out of stone, but there was a smattering of hair on them now. Just when I thought he couldn't get hotter...

"When did the chest hair happen, Henry Cavill?" I teased.

"Just showed up," He shrugged. "You like?"

"So much," I said leaning forward to flick my tongue over a nipple that had hardened, no doubt, by the breeze. Eli hissed and sighed.

"Sensitive!" I exclaimed triumphantly. "This is excellent information to have!"

"I'll give you "excellent information..."" And just like that, Eli had picked me up in his arms and began to walk towards the bank.

I know that this image—me, the hapless one, and he, the studly love interest with his shirt open, carrying me out of a river—possessed more cheese than all of Wisconsin. Sure, it might have looked like one of the cover pictures of those spicy paperbacks you find at the airport or whatever, but I kinda loved it?

After he'd gently deposited me onto the blanket, he took his shirt completely off, that cruel moon highlighting the muscles rippling in his broad back...Goddamn...

"Let's get you nekkid..." He said after kissing me once more. I worked on my shirt, while he pulled my pants off.

"That's hot, baby." He said looking down at my emerald green Calvins.

"I put them on for you to take off."

Eli's hulking form hovered above me as he pressed his lips against my neck, slowly, tantalizingly moving downwards. I was a wreck: these sensations...every nerve ending coming back to life.

"Hey," he said, looking up at me, his chin resting on my thigh. "Your heart's racin'..."

And with those immortal words, he took the waistband of those briefs between his teeth and pulled them off me.

My cock, harder than an engineering calculus final, should have flopped against my stomach if Eli hadn't taken it into his mouth with immediacy.

"Oh my God..." I groaned pathetically, clutching at the sand.

His mouth was a furnace and his tongue relentless, wrapping itself around my shaft while he bobbed up and down, slicking my cock up with his spit. These sensations...so much, but so luxurious.

"Eli, Eli..." I gasped. "I'll cum. Please. I'll cum." No exaggeration, I promise.

"Well," he said, freeing my cock. "We can't have that."

"Spread `em." He said, before taking a hole of my ankles and pushing my legs above me.

"Good goddamn..." He practically growled. "I've been cravin' this pussy."

Oh, good. That word.

Eli was caressing the sensitive crinkled skin surrounding my hole with his fingers. And that breeze: a monstrous tease.

"It's pretty..." Eli said before running his tongue against my hole and I? I moaned. That's all I could do.

"Here, suck this," Eli said leaning forward and offering me his index finger. I had questions, but I also had a screaming hunger for whatever he was going to do to me.

I felt the pressure of the finger I'd drenched in spit against my hole.

"Ugh..." The pressure was increasing. He wasn't going to stop and, well, can you honestly say they robbed your house if you open up the doors for them? And so I called upon that ancient reflex and opened myself up to him. Is saying "blossomed like a flower" cringe? Anyway, his finger entered me easily, yet painfully. I had a fleeting thought if maybe I should have been Smart Watering all along, but, nothing bad had happened yet, so...

"You okay?" He asked because I had—embarrassingly—squealed when his finger had made it in.

"This is all your fault," I gasped. "I wouldn't be like Fort Knox down there if you fucked me more."

"Baby, if I had my way, I'd keep you naked."

"Yeah?" I countered. "Chained to the radiator...you can...oh, fuck...for you to use anytime—gasp!—you wanted?"

"Somethin' like that."

His finger, was moving in and out of me faster and faster, producing such delicious friction.

"That juicy li'l cunt of yours is hungry, ain't it?" He drawled as I writhed. "I'm in knuckle-deep, but you keep pullin'..."

"You're a pig," I gasped. "But, oh my God, please fuck me!"

"Pig, huh?" The indignation in his voice still had a teasing edge to it. "Beg for it."

"What makes you think that'll work this time?"

"Alright." His finger left my hole and began to stand up. I lay there, legs splayed, and hole open and absolutely famished. I felt a tinge of shame. Who begs for dick like this?

"Wait! Wait, Eli!" I whimpered. "Please fuck me. Please give me that big hard cock. I can't take it, baby, please. I need it."

"That's right." He was smirking looking down at me, unbuttoning his jeans.

"Gon' give it to you so good..." he murmured, playing with his cock, his beautiful cock, getting it even harder than it already was.

He lowered his body atop of mine, and I spread my legs even wider to accommodate him. For lube today, we were using spit-infused sunblock. You'd think that after all this gratuitous fucking, we'd've figured something out for lube...but, hey, as long as it wasn't *just* spit.

The head of his cock pressed up against my hole. I braced myself for a piercing which never came. But the pressure of his hot cockhead against my hole increased, and...that's all.

"We're gon' take it real slow tonight."

"You're killing me..."

More pressure, and yet no breach.

"Eli..." his eyes met mine, and, wow, how deep those eyes were, lambent under the moonlight.

"What?" More pressure; I hissed, my hole throbbed with need.

"Please..."

In response, he rocked his hips slowly from side to side, his cock smearing pre-cum over my ravening hole, and I was rewarded with just a little more pressure.

I ran my hands up his torso, squeezing those magnificent, sculpted pecs. I leaned forward and he, knowing what I wanted, met me halfway for a kiss. And in that moment I wrapped my legs around his waist, dug my fingernails into his mighty muscled back and pulled him into me.

"Aaaah" Eli cried out. His yell mixing with my impassioned groan which came from a place between agony and relief. Dear God, it hurt. But it was also delectable.

Eli had fallen on top of me, and the full weight of his body, his heat felt so...safe.

"I should be, mmmmm, mad at you..." Eli mumbled as he began to plough my hole. "But this pussy is too damn good..."

"Ahh, fuck, it's all yours..." I was struggling to talk, but... "You have to stop calling it a pussy?"

"Wait," he stopped. Great going, Dagwood. "That bother you?"

"Yes? No? Later. Right now, I need you to MOVE. Please. Please move and fuck my hole open!"

You'd think that having my legs up in the air for so long would be painful, but I hardly noticed it. At one point, Eli was clutching my hips and moving me back and forth on his hot poker of a cock. I was his human fleshlight. I'm strongly considering that as a career option.

"Watchin' my dick destroy that hole is so fucking hot...you can't get enough, can you, little slut..." There was affection in his voice even though he was humiliating me. He'd taken charge now and he was really pounding me out, only to slow down.

"Tryna' last..." He smiled, wiping the sweat off his brow. We were both sweaty, as it turns out. Eli practically shimmered under that teasing whore of a moon. Not all glistering hunky men are vampires. I mean, I'd invited this one in so many times earlier tonight, but his cock just waited outside and tormented me.

"You feelin' good, Dag?" Eli asked. We were practically forehead to forehead, and he was fucking me at an enjoyable cruising pace.

"No. You...it's beyond good...you...you make me...like...am I flying? Falling? Don't matter as long as it's with you."

"Damn, baby..." The expression on his face was inscrutable. Had I fucked up?

"Do I, ugh, make you feel good?" I asked pleadingly. "I so want to. Every, gasp, time."

"Do you?" DO YOU?" He cock plunged his cock into me to the hilt and we both cried out. "Fuck, yeah, baby...you fuckin', damn, ahh, do."

His strokes grew longer and faster. I clenched each time he stuck it in deep. I think it's important to be a bottom who fucks back, you know?

"Milk my cock with that puss—" He started to slow down.

"No! I don't want you to think! When you think, you slow down and that makes my...pussy...sad! Call it whatever you want tonight! This is a later problem!"

"So, it *is* a problem..."

"ELI!"

He laughed.

"Hey, turn around."

"What, why?"

"Dag..."

I complied and lay on my stomach.

"Beautiful..." Eli marveled.

And then, he got on top of me and thrust his cock into my hole.

"Aaaaahhhh!" I cried out in absolute ecstasy. "You're so deep...you're so fucking deep!"

"Fuuuck, fuckfuckfuck, this fuckin' grip...ahh, damn, the way your pussy's gripping me..."

This position was a revelation. First, yes, the depth was astounding. I didn't know I had it in me. Literally. But feeling his sweaty chest against my back, his hot breath in my ear as he huffed away, hard at work...I don't think we've ever been this intimate.

Eli snuck an arm under me and lifted me up by the chest. I was on my knees, still pressed up against him, still feeling that heady mix of pain and pleasure as he plumbed my depths with his hard, relentless cock.

I turned my head around. I wanted to kiss him. If this position had any drawbacks, it was that I didn't get to kiss him.

"Fill me up..." My plea was a whisper.

The sheer speed at which Eli started to pound me out had me collapse back onto the blanket, and he fell with me.

"Gon' breed you so good..." He growled before letting out a guttural cry. He slammed into me a few times, and I knew that my insides were soaked.

"Dagwood..." He breathing hard, kissing my neck. "I love y...haha...love that. New position."

Hoohkay. I'm not going to touch that one, thanks.

"Agree. I could probably shit standing up for at least a week."

He let out a mighty laugh, slowly easing out of me.

"Here, I wanna get you off..."

"I can..."

"No, baby, let me."

I turned around, he kissed me on the lips, his fingers digging away in my sensitive hole. I disappointedly felt his load gush out of me; man, I wanted to keep it in longer. But Eli's plans for it entailed jacking me off with his load-covered hands.

"You like that?" he asked huskily as he pumped his right hand around my cock and teased my nipples with his lips.

"Y-yes...Eli..."

"That fuckin' hole wore me out..." He brought me so close to the edge before slowing down again.

"This is just cruel!" I gasped.

"Fair's fair." He smirked.

Once again, I found myself at that exact moment on the rollercoaster when the car is going to rush down the track only to be stalled.

Eli began to finger me, and somehow this was it. The load I shot was a personal best. Think The Great Molasses Flood of 1919, but make it cum. Pleasingly, Eli was drenched. A good amount had hit him in the face and some even in his hair. I would have laughed or teased, but I was too busy spasming as more of my seed leaked out of me. There's an Ernest Hemingway novel (which I hated) where the main guy (who I hated) makes a big deal about feeling the earth move when he cums. Maybe, this is what he meant. I mean, he was talking about war sex which, of course, is far more stressful than anything that has happened this weekend. But, I don't know, Violet, the Drew thing...it's been rough.

"Did thee feel the Earth move?" I asked. I lay in his arms, grateful for his heat since the breeze created frisson after frisson in my sweaty body.

"I fuckin' hated that book. That random "thee" and "thou" made no goddamn sense."

"There was a reason, but I wasn't listening."

Eli snorted.

"But, yeah," Eli murmured after a pause. "It sure did move. I feel it move every time with you."

I pressed myself into him further as if to blur the lines of where I ended and he began.

"So tell me about this place," I said, slowly stroking his bicep that was encircling me. "Why is it so special to Eli Remington?"

"Ehh, used to come here a lot when I was a kid," he said. "With the guys—Harry, coupl'a others—we used to do dumb shit: I'm talkin' slingshots, swimmin', somethin' we called touch football but was pretty much runnin' around, tacklin' each other. A ball was involved, though."

"That's so cute! A little Eli Remington, a hellion on a sugar rush!" I truly loved that image.

"Sugar rush is right!" Eli chuckled. "My mama—amazing baker—made mini strawberry shortcakes to share with the guys. I loved `em best, so I used to eat `em all and get sick..."

"You've never talked about your mama before..." And with that sentence I'd managed to pull him out of his idyllic past. His laughter stopped and he just looked lost. I wanted to avert my eyes: strong, dependable Eli Remington who walked with the world-weariness of someone who's been a grown man for a while now, looked like a child again.

"Yeah."

"I'm so sorry, Eli, we don't have to..."

"Nah, Dagwood, it's okay." He was silent again for a few minutes. "My mama. Huh. Mama was so pretty. Really quiet most of the time. She even spoke quiet, but when she sang...oh, man, when mama sang, it felt like the earth stopped rotatin' out of respect. She played Billie Holiday in the car when we used'ta go to the Piggly Wiggly together to buy baking shit. You know Autumn in New York?"

"I don't think I do."

"Autumn in New York, why does it seem so inviting?
Glitterin' crowds and [something] clouds mmmhmmmmm,
They're making me feel I'm home again."

His raw, slightly off-key baritone was hypnotic.

"I knew all the words once," He smiled. "She played it so much. On a loop sometimes."

"So, um, where is she?"

"Gone." He said with finality.

We lay in silence for some time. It was a privilege to be let in, or well, I don't know how much Eli shared with his buddies. I'm probably not special.

"Daddy said she'd sinned, my mama," Eli ventured, breaking the silence. "The Lord gave us life and it is His to take. To take those big Godly matters into your own hands is apostasy, `ccordin' to Daddy"

Oh shit.

"That is a supremely fucked up thing to say to a kid after his mom..." I was facing him now.

"People grieve in their own way, Dag."

"Yeah, some of us do it sociopathically...oh my God, that MAN!"

"Don't talk shit `bout him, Dag; we discussed this."

So, I said nothing.

"He's hurtin', too. I know he is."

What the fuck ever. In my eyes, the preacher was a defiler of everything that made faith such a solace for people. He could have sought that same solace after such a monumental loss. Can you imagine having to live on after someone you loved, leaned upon was gone? I have no experience with that sort of thing, praise God, but I can only imagine feeling helplessness, and, well, impotent rage: at myself for not doing enough, not being there enough, and at them for not holding on just for a little bit more. Like, what the fuck did you do? Are you serious?

Shit, maybe the preacher and I had a lot more in common, after all. Disagreeing on everything else, but brothers in (misplaced?) anger. Unlike him, though, I'd go to therapy instead of infecting other people with the searing hatred I'd developed for the world.

"What're you thinkin' `bout? Did I upset you?" Poor Eli. He'd opened his heart to me and I'd somehow managed to make myself more distant.

I turned around and kissed him: my tongue slipped through his parted lips and I wordlessly tried to tell him how much he meant to me.

Eventually, I lay with my cheek pressed to his expansive chest and one arm draped around him.

"I'm thinking about how perfect this—this place, this guy, what this guy does to me—is," What? It's true. "I'm thinking how I've never seen such a big moon."

"It'll get bigger," Eli responded. "Tomorrow's the actual full moon."

"I have been willing the moon to not go out on me with no warning, because the way the light is highlighting your muscles is fucking immaculate."

"Baby, I'm obviously not fuckin' you good enough if you're talkin' to the moon." Eli was grinning. "Also, I don't have to tell ya, but the moon ain't a lightbulb to just go out like that."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," I muttered. "Waxing, waning, gibbous, croissant..."

"Crescent, Dag. It's crescent."

"It's pronounced "croissant," though, I thought."

Eli burst out laughing.

"You're so fuckin' cute, you know that?"

"Is that right, Mr. Remington?"

He practically pounced, pinning me down with his powerful form.

"So fuckin' cute," He whispered huskily. "That I want to fuck you again. Sorry, meant, I'm gon' fuck you again."

I surrendered myself to him. Whatever lay beyond this night was, well, a little later on.