Preacher's Son

Preacher's Son Chapter 4

Author's Note:

My readers, this is the longest installment of this series so far, and I don't think we'd have even HAD a series if it weren't for your enthusiastic feedback. I am so happy that the dialogue and latent romance herein resonate. While there are steamy moments in this chapter, the character moments are also prominent. I am also faced with the conundrum of whether my readers will be able to sympathise with some ugly things that Dagwood may do. Please let me know whose voice you'd like chapter V in, should you want another chapter at all. Your feedback and ideas mean the world to me; you have no idea! I can be found at agospelpipe@yahoo.com. And of course, please consider a donation to this splendid archive here 

Tennyson is in the public domain, and his poem excerpted in this chapter is here. Happy to talk about this choice of mine too!

Preacher's Son IV: Dagwood

The sofa in that ramshackle rectory truly is disgusting: Pepto-Bismol roses against loud chocolate brown polyester. The fucker is lumpy, sinks in places and smells like cigarettes for some reason. Faintly, but the smell is undeniable. But, this is where Eli fucks me and holds me against him after. I, meanwhile, focus on the sofa. Its garishness grounds me in reality: we're just fucking. That's all. I don't have feelings for Eli. No, really, I don't. The physical chemistry is explosive, but organic chemistry? We don't actually know much about each other. But, damn, that physical chemistry! Why else do you think I am working so hard to come up with a plan to keep it going?

"That was fuckin' amazing," Eli pulled me closer. "Every time with you is fuckin' amazing. I needed it. Couldn't stop thinkin' about you..."

This again.

"You don't have to." I cut him off.

"What?"

"The "couldn't stop thinking about you" stuff," I ground against his cock which had started to chub up. "This ass what you couldn't stop thinking about."

"I know what I couldn't stop thinkin' about, Dag, you don't gotta tell me."

Oh, boy...

I spat in my hand, reached behind to grab his cock. It was hot to the touch; I started a slow stroke. Eli's sharp intake of breath, the pulse of his rapidly hardening manhood had me feeling all sorts of ways, too.

"Wh—oh fuck—what are you doin' there, Dag?"

"Making peace."

My index finger softly circled his piss slit and I was rewarded with salty, viscous pre-cum. He audibly groaned.

"Baby..."

Confession: I fall to pieces every time he calls me "Baby."

I'd played myself. What started as a manipulative ploy to get Eli to agree to my plan entrapped me too. I wanted him. Jesus fuck, how much I wanted him...

I threw my left leg over my body, my hole splayed open, and held onto the arm of that horrible sofa to anchor myself.

"Stick it in, Eli, please."

He traced my jawline with a fingertip. I shuddered.

"Yeah?"

"Yes, Eli, please."

"Your pussy's lookin' slick..." His finger caressed the soft folds of my hungry, hungry hole. "Why are you still wet, baby?"

I didn't have to turn around to see his self-satisfied grin.

"You..." I was trembling. "It's that big load you shot in me...oh, Eli..."

His finger continued to circle my hole. It was unbearable.

"And I'm gon' give you another one. Get you pregnant, fuckin' slut."

"W-w-we should—oh God—discuss--child support after this."

His guffaw was defiant sunlight cutting through smog.

"That smart mouth should be around my cock right now, but that'll have to wait."

With that, he grabbed my hips and impaled me on his hard, angry cock.

"ELI!"

My squeal was in counterpoint with his deep, blissed out groan.

"Dag..." He started to thrust. "...feels so good...your cunt..."

"Eli..." That's about all my (alleged) smart mouth can say when this muscled demi-god ravages my hole.

The only sounds in the air was the visceral slap of Eli's sweaty body colliding with mine and me moaning incoherently. I may have initiated this, but he was in control. Eli Remington was all man: I was at his mercy; I loved it and my hole loved it.

Since he had already opened me up the first time he fucked me, I felt no pain this time. He was more aggressive. And I swear, I could feel it all: the helmet of his beautiful cock rushing past my ring, the delicious friction of his shaft against the walls of my hole, I heard the squelch of his cock meeting the load he'd already deposited there. He stopped for a second to spit on his cock, and dove right in.

I was jerking off my ramrod dick while Eli was hard at work behind me.

"You gon' cum, little boy?"

My breaths grew ragged.

"Make me—ahhhhh, fuck, FUCK..."

My goading had had its effect because Eli went into overdrive. His cock was pummeling my prostate over and over again.

"Oh, fuck, right there!"

Eli chuckled and his battering ram of a cock continued its assault.

I found myself unable to catch my breath as that...propulsive, explosive feeling in my cock began to crescendo. And there it was: the inevitable culmination: a fountain of cum pouring forth from my penis. I am not a big shooter (though I hold my own), but this was...a decadence of cum. Each time my body convulsed before more cum, viscous and white, rained, I could feel my hole clamping down on Eli's raging cock.

"Your pussy was made for me," he snarled. "...grippin' my cock...hungry slut...can't get enough, can you?"

"I want it all the time, baby," For, maybe, the third time today, I was going to cry. "I couldn't stop think..."

Shit.

"What...was...that?"

SHIT.

"Give me your load, Eli. Put your baby in me."

That pushed him over the edge.

He slammed into me hard about four times and I felt myself fill with his hot seed. The fifth thrust found me on the floor—look, that sofa is small and I'd just had a bigger climax `The Empire Strikes Back,' man—so his final shot landed largely all over my back.

"I'm sorry, Dagwood," He was by my side instantly. "You alright? I'm sorry..."

I looked up at him smiling.

"I'm not."

And then I kissed him.

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

Despite all the dynamism of the past...half hour, I guess...our net movement had been zero. We were back on that sofa: me cradled into him.

"It's weird, though, that your daddy is so cool about this stuff."

"'Cool' is a mighty generous interpretation, Eli," I was flashing back to that super weird conversation with daddy. "I don't know how he feels about this. Except that he really wants it to stop."

"So, what's your plan?"

"My plan, Eli Remington, is that you're going to get a girlfriend."

The silence that followed suggested that this idea was not well-received.

"What the fuck is that gon' do?"

"It gives us cover," I was talking a mile a minute. "I will introduce the two of you. Ideally, at church. You charm her or, I don't know, flex for her or something. Now there are opportunities: you could take her out, drop her home and then meet me on your way back; you could say you're taking her out, but take me out instead. Maybe the three of us can hang out! As good, good friends...and..."

I felt Eli shuffle trying to sit up. The heat of his body no longer covered me.

"That is FUCKED, Dag." Eli didn't have to raise his voice to convey how indignant this idea made him. "It's a fucked-up thing to do to someone."

"Look who grew a moral compass while no-one was looking..."

"You're bein' a bitch."

"Fuck you, Eli Remington! I am doing this for us."

"That don't make it right."

"To be clear, `us' means..."

"Yeah, I am just a studhorse who sticks it in you. Nothin' more. Don't gotta tell me twice, Dagwood. It's kinda insultin' after a while."

I flinched like one slapped.

"Eli...I...I didn't know...um...I didn't realize you...knew...um...knew horses."

Eli squeezed his eyes shut in agony, ran his hand through his hair and squeezed the nape of his neck.

"Jesus, Dag..." He looked lost. "I'm not fuckin' up some girl's life so I could slip it to you on the side."

"I'm not the bad guy here..."

"Yeah, you are, Dagwood. Right now? You are."

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

It began to rain on the walk home. Sprinkling, really, more soothing than disruptive. My thoughts, though, were the opposite. It would have been so much easier if I actually was delusional enough to believe that I wasn't the villain of this piece. But I had attempted to use sex to get a guy to go along with a cruel, self-serving plan. I had calculatedly selected the sacrificial lamb, too: Ms. Alma Arden was a quiet little thing. We weren't friends but I enjoyed talking to her. Smart girl. Dreamy. Not the kind to raise a stink even if she did find out why Eli was dating her.

A good person would never do that. A good person would obey his father and just...deal. A good person would never be this freakishly calm about so coldly deceiving an innocent. Try as I might—and I was trying—I couldn't buy into my own bullshit that this plan was just. I also knew that I was willing to do it anyway. It's the knowing that hurts.

Hot tears spilled forth from my eyes. I didn't stop them. I cried for Eli, for my own terrifying amorality...I cried until I couldn't anymore. By the time I got home, my head pounded with pain and my eyes burned. I didn't bother trying to appear presentable.

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

"Wow, you look like shit..." My sister Violet. Ladylike as always.

"Thank you, Your Grace, Queen of The Horse Girls."

My sister and I were fraternal twins. Our cousin Clarence had made it clear that he found non-identical twinning a wasted opportunity:

"How are y'all supposed to play pranks or do a `Parent Trap' in-case..."

I think Violet and I had just walked away at that point. We didn't have to confer with each other.

Apart from tacit understandings, Violet and I also had green eyes in common. Otherwise, she favored daddy and his kin: darker features, strong opinions, and a smaller version of his aquiline nose. Where on daddy it looked patrician, Violet looked mischievous. Witchy, even. As if ready to wiggle her nose to seal a spell she cast. Like the witch on that TV show. You know the one! Samantha Stevens!

"Damn, you're off your game today. Horse girl isn't even an insult. It's just girls who like horses a lot. And I'm not..."

"Violet." Daddy—who just teleports now, I guess—spoke before I could retort. "Please."

"Yes, sir." Violet mumbled as she ascended the stairs to her room.

I stuck my tongue out at her when daddy wasn't looking and was rewarded with a very teenage girl eye-roll.

"Dagwood, in my office."

"Yes, sir."

I stood while daddy sat behind his still shiny walnut wood desk. He'd made it himself when he was a young man.

"Wow, you look like shit..." he was smiling.

"I guess so, daddy. I got caught in the rain so..."

"You been cryin'."

I stood in silence.

"You were gone a while today after church."

"Youth group was..."

He held up his hand; I fell silent.

"I saw you head to the rectory."

I pled the 5th once again.

"I thought I was clear, Dagwood." He was matter-of-fact. "I thought you understood why you and the preacher's boy had to stop."

I was resolute. Not a word.

"Speak."

"It was the last time, daddy. I had to tell him. I had to say goodbye."

Daddy shut his eyes.

"I can appr...I know this is difficult..."

"It is not difficult, sir. It was not difficult. You were right about him: he's a good guy. A little rough around the edges, but a good guy. It felt right to just...take a sec to say goodbye. That is not difficult, daddy. It is simple."

"I see."

"Yes. Everything is simplified: going to school, crushing my classes, maybe looking at colleges to tour...all of it...simple. Simpler than all the messes a stupid, meaningless...thing could have created."

"Okay, Dagwood. But, you just don't see people cryin' to beat the band over stupid, meaningless shit is all."

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

I stood in my room as if I was inspecting it before moving in. I didn't know what to do with myself or make of daddy's whole approach to this thing. And then—this is really dumb--I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked kinda hot. My white shirt, still wet, clung to the contours of my body. I snapped a mirror selfie and sent it to Eli. Ah, fuck! Old habits, I guess. So I fired off another text:

Sorry.

For what? You look good nuff to eat.

Thank you. I didn't mean to tease you. Old habits, haha.

S'okay_._

You are right about my plan. It's bad. I wasn't thinking.

Yeah.

Suddenly a picture of his fat cock straining against his sweatpants appeared.

Just teasin ya back haha old habits.

Incorrigible.

Devil emoji.

Typically, I'd delete his texts within seconds of us signing off, but this one I was going to put to good use.

I unbuttoned my shirt and threw myself on my bed the way I'd always dreamt Eli would. I trembled, running my fingertips up my abdomen to my chest. My nipples hardened; I squeezed one and moaned, all the while hoping I could reach through that stupid picture and pull Eli's sweatpants down...and a sharp rap on my door brought me crashing down to earth. Violet entered without waiting to be invited in. I pulled the plackets of my unbuttoned shirt towards each other, covering my exposed chest.

"Violet!"

"What the fuck?" Violet, eyes widened, lips starting to quiver with latent laughter.

"I just want to jerk off in peace."

"Gross, but not unexpected. You can talk all fancy, but you're still a boy."

"Christ...what can I do for you, Violet?"

"You can tell me what daddy wanted with you."

"Nothing."

"Annoying, but not unexpected."

"Violet Servilia..."

And my sister burst out laughing.

"We have the stupidest middle names, Dag..."

"Daddy was doing the Roman Empire shit before it was cool, I guess..."

We were both laughing now. It felt...freeing, even though my head still hurt. Gales of laughter after "cryin' to beat the band" are not ideal.

"This is a wellness check, by the way." She was sitting across from me on my bed.

"Oh?"

"I usually don't give a shit when mama is hinting that she wished she knew what was up with you. You're a big boy and all that."

"Why does mama just not..."

"Ask you? I don't know. But shit's been weird with you. You've obviously been crying..."

"Why...I have not..."

"Stop interrupting women, Dagwood."

"I'm interrupting you, Violet, not women."

"I'm going to let that slide for now, but I ain't forgetting it, asshole."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..."

"ANYWAY, we have weird afternoon sobbing, it feels like you're never here, and the fact you snuck out of the house at the dead of night."

"How do you know I..."

"Because you are very bad at this, Dagwood. I'm hurt that you wouldn't ask me, your sister, to help you. Pretty shocked, actually, that daddy didn't catch you. Maybe he's sleeps heavier than I thought. Maybe I can also be a loud lumbering idiot WHO USES THE FRONT DOOR when I sneak out."

"Wait, why do you sneak...?"

"Am I asking you why you did? No? Good. You don't get to ask me either."

"Jesus. Look, tell mama I'm fine."

"Great!" she said, getting up and heading towards the door. "Are you, though?"

"Yes, Violet. I am."

She regarded me carefully.

"The horse and non-horse girls, and I are going to DoDo's to drink lattes and tell exaggerated stories about boys. You want anything?"

"One of those blue donuts with the Earl Grey glaze?"

"Prissy, predictable, definitely not unexpected." She smiled. "Now cover your breasts, hussy! Not in my good Christian home!"

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

I had never had a hard time ignoring Eli in the one class we had together. Probably because I knew he was mine. Rather, his dick was mine...I mean, we'd fucked in this very classroom. I could rest easy because Eli Remington was my secret. But ever since he was forbidden to me, all I wanted to do was look at him. And today, Ms. Grundy wasn't planning on making it any easier.

"Mr. Remington, please start reading from where we left off."

Eli was wearing a plain navy-blue tee-shirt which made for an interesting change from his usual button-downs. You never did see that one prominent vein running down his beefy right arm in those button-downs. I'd seen it, though. Back when it was just us, I'd touched it, too. I...had to snap out of it and help the big lug because he didn't know where to start reading.

"Eighty-eight." I whispered.

He gave me a curt nod.

"Mr. Remington?"

"I got it, I got it," He mumbled. And then:

"Let us alone. Time driveth onward fast,
And in a little while our lips are dumb.
Let us alone. What is it that will last?
All things are taken from us, and become
Portions and parcels of the dreadful past.
Let us alone..."

I'd never heard him sound so...soulful. There was a raw mournfulness in the deep timbre of his voice. Nothing about his reading reeked of affectation or performance. This was just Eli. I was staring at him shamelessly before Ms. Grundy (unmoved by that reading, by the way) stopped him, and launched into a monologue about papers and exams. I barely heard anything because I wanted to be...not here, but alone. With Eli. After all, what is it that will last?

When class ended, I elected to skip chemistry and walk towards the supply room that started it all. I didn't have to turn around to know that he was following.

There in the suffocating must of the storage supply room, I waited.

He never did come.