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The road to priesthood was hard. Most people cannot make the sacrifices needed to devote themselves to the Lord. But you could. Swearing chastity was the easiest thing you had ever done for the church. You never intended to marry a woman and have children. It just never interested you, so at the push of your parents, you packed a bag and started school. But your intense devotion to God quickly took precedence as your studies began.The feedback you received during your orientation was overwhelmingly positive, especially regarding your ability to grasp scripture so quickly. Additionally, your desire to help others stood out.The other men you worked with sought you out for advice and help. When giving out food and clothing, they'd complain about the scantily clad women being a temptation. Almost everything was a temptation to your brothers in Christ. Women even having their hair down caused you to be the leading food runner for the town of Valentine.
You did your best to comfort your brothers, letting them know that temptation was only a test of faith and that pulling through was the true defining trait. However, any attempt at comfort was met with contempt. Each man insisted God blessed you and made you for this job; you couldn't understand their struggles. It hurt to hear you wanted more than anything to empathize with your fellow men, but they were right in a way; you didn't struggle with lust. Women could approach you in nothing but rags, and your mind would never falter.You were trained to be a Shepherd leading sheep to safety, and that's what you would remain. Learning to comfort men and women struggling with lust was moved to the top of your list of things to study when you were assigned to work the confessional booth at 20. Not to toot your own horn, but now, at 40, you are confident in your ability to manage any situation where people come for help. Were you 100% sure of the advice you gave? Not by personal testing, but you had a success rate that couldn't be beat.While the booth's purpose was anonymity and privacy, most of the foot traffic occurred when you were in. Women insisted that the energy around you was how they recognized you and that the booth was warm when you were there. And today, the sun was setting as the door opened to both, and someone sat down with a huff. It was a voice you’d heard around town but had never met the man behind it. It was gruff and had to belong to a man about your age. Your heart swelled. Too many men in Valentine's were stubborn about admitting anything. So, to have someone new join you in the booth—an older man reaching out—you could hardly bear the joy of a man swallowing his pride. You believed it was never too late to return to God. When you return to Him, it is what was meant to happen. “Good afternoon; what brings you in today?”"I’ve never been a religious man, Father, but recently, I’ve been talked into coming in.” A smile graced your face. “It’s nice of you to give church a chance! Well, good sir, what has been happening that you wish to speak about?" A low sigh came from next to you as the man began, “I’m a bad man. I steal, I lie, and I’ve killed Father.” Your stomach stirred. People come in with many issues, but each one feels like hearing it for the first time again. Arthur was talking into coming by Reverend after drinking and gambling for hours straight. He was sure Reverand was projecting the feelings of dread and fear of hell after death, but to shut the man up, he agreed to come, no deeper reason.It had been some time since a cowboy had sauntered into your booth, his boots kicking up the dust from the floor as if their presence was rare. Stories of the Wild West used to echo loudly in this space; the vibrant tales of the once Wild West seemed to fade. Society was moving on, leaving behind the rugged charm of the weathered hats and weather-beaten faces of cowboys.He opened up more and more as time ticked by. Initially, he only hurt awful people, only if they were harming innocents; he’d meet them with equal force. But the bar for those was horrible in his eyes and was getting lower and lower. Quicker to anger for even just a sideways look. His explanations of almost everything he was going through and what he put others through, if they were not scary and authentic, you'd commend him for being a fantastic storyteller.He got to a point where he increasingly hesitated before sharing information, pausing before opening up about what you thought was a new, unknown individual he had intentionally deceived or provoked to start a fight. “Mister, you do not have to tell me everything all at once. This booth is open practically 24 hours a day, 7 days a week! Just ring the small bell when you arrive.” Your voice was soft; you didn’t want to push the man away, but you wanted him to know he could come in at other times to get more comfortable.The air was thick as you awaited his response. You weren’t sure why, but your heart began to race; he had to have more to share from such a long and well-lived life. His unspoken struggles lingered, making the booth feel so small; you would be intertwined if a wooden wall hadn’t separated you. But it was there and so real, you couldn’t see him, unable to witness his hesitant gaze and the slight frown on his face. But if you could, it would cause a stir in your chest with an unexpected desire to comfort him beyond the constraint of words. You craved to reach out, to put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him that he was seen.The idea of offering a hand to shatter the fundamental barrier of the confessional booth felt terrifying. He had admitted to crimes that should have driven you to report him to a sheriff, but leaving this man lost was the last thing on your mind. But this must be how you felt about every lost soul that entered your booth."It's not that, Father (Name). I have a lot of history with women and even men. I'm not sure you're too keen on hearing it." If it weren't for the booth's screen, you might have felt embarrassed for him to see how red you had turned. You instinctively covered your mouth with your hand in embarrassment. "Uh, I'm not sure what you mean by history. Do you mean violent? We’ve discussed that so far, and I understand it—"The conversation shifted into uncharted territory, revealing a vulnerability between you. His gaze lingered on the dotted screen separating you two."No, Father (Name). You’ve never heard of men being with other men?" Your stomach leaped. You had heard of homosexuality but hadn’t considered it to be an actual reality people have lived. It was a struggle some men faced, but you had never contemplated it for yourself. You never gave it much thought, as sex with women never interested you, but two men? What were they to do?"I am aware of it on a surface level, but I can help you, as I have helped many others—both women and men—struggling with adultery." A grunt could be heard from the other side of the confessional booth, followed by a heavy sigh from the man. "Okay then, how about this, Father (Name)," there was rustling as the man stood up."I'll be back around 11:30 to discuss this with you; the things I've done shouldn't be spoken about in the daylight." You craved to reach out and reassure him that he was seen and understood, yet the boundaries loomed large. He bid you goodbye as the door opened and shut, letting in a tiny sliver of sunlight. You saw his shadow—a hefty, brooding man with a hat.His impending return felt like a double-edged sword. You wanted to be there for him, to help him navigate his shadows. Still, crossing into more profound, more complicated territory made you uneasy. Questions swirled in your mind—were you genuinely able to help him? Would your inexperience be what holds you back for good this time? You sat in the booth, an odd, uncomfortable feeling in your stomach as you realized you had to prepare for tonight's meeting. While innocent as it was to help a man find the light, it felt like something you had to hide. Meeting so late at night.As the sun set, you felt a stir in your stomach. You had your bible, attempting to find a proper way to go about the conversation later. As you looked, all you could feel was nervous, many thoughts swarming your head. Men had come in and described their acts with women, and you were more than clear-headed on the steps they needed to take. But this man, having already acted on the thoughts he had about men, made you think of sodomy as an old law you deemed shaky at best.Sex that was not for reproduction was considered a sin by a few peers, but the bible itself said no such thing. You sighed, stepping into the kitchen of the church. You usually prepared dinner from donated foods from the local general store for those in need, but a new face appeared tonight.His eyes were slightly fearful as you greeted him, his eyes filled with joy at the offer of as much lamb stew as he could stomach. You knew you shouldn’t have, but you couldn't help but try to compare his voice to the man you spoke to during sunset. You concluded it couldn’t have been him as he thanked you for the hundredth time for the food and stuffed a third bowl in his stomach.Mickey had come in as joyous as ever, telling you about a new man who had gone out of his way to speak to and hug him. You celebrated with the two men, having a bowl of soup for yourself.“Would it be okay, Father, if I bring any friends? I don’t know if they’re the church type and if coming in on Sundays would be required.” The poor boy stammered as he packed away a fourth bowl of soup.“That’s more than alright! I don’t think there should be any pressure to join the church for any reason other than genuine interest.” You smiled, gesturing to the pot of soup, which was halfway empty. “Every mouth deserves to be fed; I even do breakfast!” The man nodded, taking a sip of water as Mickey began a story.Time ticked on as you bid Mickey and the man, whose name you learned was Kieran, a farewell with a hug.Candles burned across the church, offering a gentle light. As you glanced up, you saw a large man enter the booth. Fearing you were late, you quickly followed his steps and sat in the booth."Good evening, Father (Name). I am glad you are open so late.”"Of course, what about these relations that cannot be spoken about during daylight, Mister?" "Morgan." "I'm sorry." "You can call me Arthur Morgan." There was silence for a second. You smiled, having a name for the mystery man. "Well, Mister Morgan! What about these relations keep you from sleeping?" The man shuffled slightly as he cleared his throat."I haven't seen men and women in that light over the past few months, but I find myself missing it. At night, I can't shake the desire for the warmth of someone beside me, the comfort of knowing who is next to me, and the sheer joy of feeling their best." His voice was soft and low, and you unconsciously leaned closer to the screen, drawn in by the intimacy of his words.The gentle flicker of candlelight danced around the booth, casting shadows against the box. Arthur's low voice, tinged with longing, pulled you in even further. "You talk of these connections," you replied softly, your heartbeat echoing in your ears. “It's clear how much you crave that closeness." The moment's energy sent shivers down your spine as you leaned in further, the barrier between you both seeming to dissolve."It's not just the physical interactions I miss. It's the intimacy—how another person can make you feel alive and understood." You could sense the ache in his words, and your heart responded with an unfamiliar flutter. "I never feel more alive than when I have someone pretty exhausted next to me."The tight feeling was back in your stomach. "Well, Mister Morgan, the only real sins you commit in these cases are ones of the flesh; God does not punish those as harshly as they are the easiest to commit." your fingers are tucked between the thin pages of your Bible.Arthur chuckled. "As I talk to you, Father, something tells me you have no experience with this whole thing. You've never been through this before, have you, Father (Name)?" You laughed and shifted in your seat. "You got me there, Mister Morgan; I've never had a girlfriend!" There was silence from Arthur. You could still hear your name echoing; his voice was captivating."Though my personal experience or lack thereof, in these matters isn't significant when it comes to helping you." The church was silent, and there wasn't another soul around, as everyone had long since gone home. Crickets chirped as the silence stretched on.Feeling a bit anxious, you took a deep breath and continued, trying to gauge his reaction. "To put it simply, it’s often associated with any sexual acts that aren’t aimed at procreation, but definitions can vary widely." You couldn’t see his eyebrows knit together in thought, "It's a complex topic, really; some say it's anal intercourse or intercourse with an animal," you added, "What matters is how you interpret those teachings in your own life.""I do wonder, Mister Morgan, other than, um, sodomy, what else do two men partake in?" Your voice felt small and strained. It felt inappropriate to ask, as if it was invasive. His laughter filled the space again, warm and inviting, as if he could sense the heat radiating from you through the wall separating you both. The line between priest and man blurred then, and the night deepened.“Some men just like kissin' Father. Most brush it off as an in-the-moment type thing. They were ‘too drunk and didn’t realize.’ But they knew the mouth they were swapping spit with was a man. No woman has a full beard and mustache. Maybe even some grabbing and rubbing.” You now felt incredibly top-heavy, as if your legs would struggle to support you if you stood.You could only imagine what grabbing went on and rubbing. You felt flushed at the idea of such closeness with a man. Was this how homosexuals felt? An ache in their groin to be near a man, not for sex but just passionate closeness? Was it some divine calling that led you to this path, or was it simply your desires—your homosexual tendencies—that pushed you in this direction? Was it not some blessing from God but the pull of something far more human and complicated than mere faith?
But he continued, “Some men even love another man’s mouth on them. Did ya know that Father (Name)? A man taking another man in his mouth?” His tone was curious, but you missed his intentions in provoking you. Sure, he was here to become a better person. But even a saint would become desperate to see your face tighten at the most minor touches you’ve never experienced. The slacks you wore under your cassock felt uncomfortable. They never felt so glued to your body. The extra fabric of your cassock gave you more coverage, but you couldn’t feel more exposed.“No, I, um, uh, wasn’t aware of that type of… intercourse, Mister Morgan. I didn’t know the options two men had when bedded together.” You felt like you were gasping for air as you spoke as if the air from your words was being sucked out of you by Arthur.
“Is there anything else that keeps you at night with these memories, Mister Morgan?” Your stomach felt tight. The atmosphere in the booth was intense and hot. While you wanted to help, you also wished things would cool down and not feel so hot. "I’ve just been feeling lonely. I miss sleeping next to someone most nights—someone who doesn’t leave before I open my eyes in the morning." His voice sounded sad, bringing the warm feelings in your head back down to earth. "God is with you every night, Mister Morgan," you said, clearing your throat as you gazed through the screen that separated you.You could make out his side profile, but there were no specifics. "Of course, you can’t hug or kiss God. But you can feel His presence with you. I’m also here for you, Mister Morgan. The whole church is! If you need company, there’s always someone here during regular business hours." You heard his boots scrape against the floor on the other side of the booth. You were offering more than words; you were offering to be a presence in his life. He couldn’t help but find you foolish; why on earth would you offer that when he just talked about robbing and killing moments ago?"I suppose you're right, Father. I'll come again. You're quite nice.”His voice held a softness it hadn’t had for a while; it surprised him. “It's sweet how much you try to understand.” Your breathing began to steady, and the slight riffle of your robes filled the booth as you changed your posture. “Do you get rewarded for your work?" Arthur asked before he could stop himself. There was no honest answer to you, at least not satisfying. Nonetheless, your stomach felt full of butterflies at the question. “I get many rewards for my work, Mister Morgan. I get to live in the church, and as payment, I get to provide for people. Meals, a warm place to sit, clothes..” your voice trailed. Now, Arthur did think you were a fool. Did you consider payment for your work to be more work?Though Arthur believed you loved your work, he offered: "I just think such a hardworking and kind man deserves more than just praise. How about a nice night out for dinner and some sightseeing? Whenever you're ready, Father (name), just let me know, and we can go off on a trip—just the two of us." The booth's screen hid his features, but you could tell he was facing you now, taking your breath away. Arthur didn’t move his gaze; he wanted you to know he was looking at you.This was against the booth's code of conduct. You shouldn't know his name; you shouldn't be looking at him. But you couldn't help yourself. You wanted to open the doors or tear off the screen between you. You want to see the man you have been speaking to for so long, even if it was only a few hours. Your hand reached up to the screen. “That’s a very kind offer, Mister Morgan.” your voice was soft and warm again, but something in your town made Arthur pause his teasing, “Maybe one day when folks around here don’t need me as much.. I’d love to visit a whole new town.” your hand twitched back. Fidigitng with the thin pages of your bible. “Even just today, the sweetest boy came in and ate like he hadn’t in weeks! Who else would’ve fed him and Mickey if I hadn't been here? He even wanted to bring friends with him next time he came to eat.” your voice trailed off, and you were rambling.“Plusss, perhaps these kinds of plans would be better made outside the confessional when we can speak face-to-face.” Your voice was light and playful, but there was an edge of caution. “What happens here stays here... but, you see, I do believe in what folks around here call 'stranger danger.'”
Arthur chuckled, the sound low and rough. The tension in the air shifted slightly as you smiled on the other side of the screen. It was a gentle smile. “Sounds like a smart rule, Father (Name).” His gaze flickered to the screen, though he couldn't see you're eyes directly, only the shadow of his figure. But it felt like you could see him—see through him, in a way no one has tried to in years,"It sounds silly, but sometimes when I think of going to a new town, I can't help but imagine wearing normal clothes—like the rest of you cowboys wear.” Arthur's chest tightened at the idea of you dressed like him, Javier, or even Dutch. Truth be told, he was the one who walked Kieran to the church for a meal. Sat outside and had a smoke as you all ate. The pang of jealousy he felt when he finally saw such a fine-looking priest hug Kieran goodbye, he almost wanted to fight the new gang member for even getting that chance. Imagining you in their clothes made you look out of place in his mind, with your soft features and overly caring nature. Even so, it was tempting. The sun was beating down on you, and sweat dripped across your body as you worked. “Maybe we can arrange that someday, Father (Name).”The night had finally ended as you heard Arthur bid you goodnight, leaving with a soft click of the confessional door. You sighed gently to yourself as you opened your confessional door and noticed a few candles had gone out. Take the small matchbox from your pocket. As you turned slightly, a hand was warm around your torso, and a soft laugh sounded through the air, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You glanced up, surprised to see Arthur's playful grin, his eyes sparkling in the dim light."I thought ya could use a little help with the ambiance," he said, adjusting the hat that now perched softly on your head. The playful gesture sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach. You couldn't help but smile, your heart racing as you felt the closeness between you. The flickering of the last few candles cast gentle shadows on the walls, creating a personal atmosphere."Thank you so much, Mister Morgan; I was just about to relight these," you replied, motioning toward the candles. His presence was comforting, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. As you struck a match and brought it to the wick, the flame danced with a life of its own. It should’ve illuminated Arthur's features, but his face was still in shadows. He moved closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, "Sometimes all you need is a little light to guide the way." Before you could ask, one of his hands slid down the front of your cassock groping, and his other, much rougher hand groped your stiff hard-on.“Just no sodomy, and God will forgive you, right?” His other hand mushed your chest around. You slightly cried out, ashamed of the subconscious humping into Arthur’s hand. Ashamed that in front of the son of god, you gave in so quickly to another man's advances, not even trying to get away from this pleasure you had never felt before.While you had almost no exposed skin on your neck, that did not stop Arthur from latching onto it. His rough beard scratched at your neck as he began to lick the skin. His hands never stopped rubbing and smooshing at your chest. As you stumbled forward to a pew, your legs couldn’t hold you up much longer. Arms bracing your body up, you lost sight of Arthur for a moment, but not for long as Arthur’s hard-on pressed against your back as his grunts and moans filled your ears. “Could you forgive me, Father (Name)?” Your eyes squeezed shut, feeling overwhelmed at the licking and sucking on your skin. The sucking stung in a way that it felt like a punishment for enjoying it. His moans and grunts replayed in your mind as his hands went into your slacks, grasping at your crotch so desperately.He flipped you over, your ass pressed against the hardwood of the pew you were leaning on, and his hand was right back into place, toying with you; it was almost pitiful how you whined out his name.“How many Hail Marys for this Father (Name)?” Arthur had slowly sunk to his knees, kissing down your stomach, maintaining eye contact the whole way down. Your face was on fire as the cowboy’s hat tilted down with your head.You had never imagined kissing anyone, and tears threatened to fall as his clear eyes pierced your soul. His face still shrouded in shadow, he leaned closer, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin. The world around you blurred into nothingness. Every ounce of shame melted away with each touch. A small kiss was pressed against the warm skin above the waistband of your underwear, and his tongue playfully peeked out from between his lips.Gently pressing it against the tip of your cock. You choked on air as his mouth sealed onto the tip, lapping at it like a thirsty animal. You gently tugged his hat over your face, savoring the scent of his hair. Whatever pomade he used had a minty smell to it. His movements kept pace, and you could feel your stomach tighten.The feeling of coming undone overshadowed the humiliation you felt. Tears burned your eyes as the tension in your stomach finally snapped, and his voice filled your mind, “What’s the penance for havin' a man suck ya off in church?” You wheezed against the soft pillow on your mattress. Your fingers gripped the smooth pillowcase tightly as you tried to breathe.Stumbling up from your mattress, the floor creaked under your weight. In your frantic movements, you dropped to your knees and reached for your crucifix. Holding the cold beads in your hand, you realized how much your skin was burning. The beads tapped lightly together in your hand as you began to pray, desperate to apologize for such a filthy dream.The beads clicked in your hands as you counted each prayer. ‘Please, help me, Lord.’ tears streamed down your face as your knees ached from the harsh landing. ‘Was this some sort of test?’ When you finally finished praying, the sun started to rise. You had to kick into gear, changing your soiled underwear to a fresh pair with a plan to wash your sheet with an embarrassing wet spot from where your hips were resting during your dream.As you began making breakfast, you didn’t want to think about Arthur returning later that day or night. You certainly had two mouths to feed and didn’t want to disappoint them.
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The rhythmic clinking of pots and pans echoed through the quiet streets, almost rousing the entire town from its slumber as you threw yourself into the art of cooking. The early morning light filtered through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow on the countertop piled high with fresh ingredients. You needed the biscuit dough with fervor, the soft smell of sugar and flour in the air.At that moment, the sizzling sounds of the bacon cooking combined with the gentle shaking of the oven rack as the biscuits baked provided a welcome distraction from the resurfacing memories of your dream that threatened to invade your mind. Each sizzle from the stovetop seemed to drown out the night's memories.Because it was so early, most of the other people in the congregation hadn't shown up and wouldn't for two hours, so a confused expression painted your face as the heavy church doors opened and shut, light voices whispering.Adjusting your cooking apron, you exited the kitchen and saw Kieran accompanied by two men. “Good morning, gentlemen!” you said, wiping your hands on the canvas apron before reaching out to the new man on the left. He spoke softly, “Mornin’, I’m Charles Smith.” he replied, his voice low, almost gravelly, the word slow and deliberate.His handshake was firm—too firm. As you briefly touched, his hand enveloped yours with confidence. You felt the roughness of his palm and the deep scars on both hands, with one hand seeming to have a burn mark. But it was his eyes that stopped you. His gaze was intense, deep, and unwavering as if he could see right through you. The weight of it made your breath hitch, and you found yourself caught, unable to look away.The other man stepped forward, his presence quieter but no less striking. “Buenos días, señor.” You noted the subtle scars on his fingers, signs of a hand that had seen its share of work, but the wounds seemed to look like cuts. But it was the softness of his touch that left you breathless. His hands were so unexpectedly tender, the softest hand you’d ever felt that wasn’t attached to a woman.“Ah! Bue… nos dias! La comida. " You took a moment to pause and try to remember your Spanish classes from school. “Estará lista pronto.” His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, a small, unintentional gesture that felt like a jolt to your chest.Sure, your Spanish was very slow to get out and slightly off, but he understood what you were trying to say. A smile graced his lips. “I speak English too, Father. It's very nice of you to try, though.” Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment, realizing the misstep, but it wasn’t just the mistake that left you flustered. It was the way his smile lingered, and his hand stayed a little longer in yours, “I’m Javier Escuella.”“Well! Charles, Javier, and Kieran! Breakfast will be ready soon. I just put it in the oven. When it's done, you can grab it and go or join me at the kitchen table!” You spun on your heels, B-lining to the kitchen, nimble fingers toying with the crucifix around your neck that felt like it weighed a ton across your shoulders. Was this another test? Making you grapple with possible homosexuality and then throwing three very handsome men your way? How could God throw such temptation right in front of you?You flipped the bacon in the pan: the golden-brown color and the sweet smell of biscuits filled the kitchen. Fresh eggs were on the counter, ready to be cooked in the bacon grease. The three men shuffled into the kitchen, sharing no words among themselves. You heard each of them pull out a chair and sit. You looked over your shoulder and smiled at each of them settling in.“Living in a livestock town is great for fresh meat and eggs! Too bad it smells terrible out there,” you laughed, taking the bacon off the pan and gently shaking the extra fat before adding it to the pile you had already finished and putting that plate on the table.“You men new to Valentine? I don’t think I’ve seen y’all around before!” You’d heard of new faces popping up around town from passing conversations you caught when there were church events. You pulled on a pair of oven mitts and glanced over at the men. Kieran’s gaze flickered briefly over your figure, his eyes lingering just a bit too long before he looked away.Charles, always the quiet one, seemed distracted by the decor on the walls. His gaze skimmed over photos of past church members and the occasional framed painting.But Javier– Javier’s eyes were fixed on you. His intense stare followed every movement you made; you couldn’t determine his feelings. His dark eyes swirled with such an intensity.“It’s just an extended stay,” Charles spoke, his voice steady, but you caught the subtle way his eyes strayed back to you, though he quickly masked it.“Yeah, we’re just passing through,” Javier’s raspy voice followed, rich and low, sending a jolt through you as you placed the hot pan in the center of the table. “Well, while you’re here, I’ll make sure you’re well-fed,” you offered with a smile. "No need to come to mass or anything." You turned to close the oven door, but as you did, you didn’t feel the weight of three pairs of eyes on you, each gaze landing right on your ass.“I’d like to hear more about this town,” Javier said, his voice steady as he leaned forward, his eyes still fixed on you. "We don’t know much about it yet—other than the… livestock." He chuckled softly, and you couldn’t help but smile. People didn’t often visit the church outside of using the confessional booth on Sunday mornings or Wednesdays.“Well, there’s not much to it, really,” you said, facing him. "It’s small but rowdy. Just a week or so ago, there was this huge bar fight. I heard it over here.” Your voice held a worried tone as you recalled the yelling. You cracked two eggs into the skillet, and the oil popped slightly.“Drinking is a strong vice; it makes people lose sense. But being down the road from it is not the worst. I like to think it's peaceful in the church.” You flipped the eggs, adding two more to the pan. Grabbing a plate, sprinkling salt and pepper, you placed the two cooked eggs on it. You put the first plate in front of Kieran. “Thank you for the food, Father (name)!” Kieran quickly dug in as Charles's plate was placed before him. Javier's plate promptly followed. Charles took a biscuit and made a small sandwich with egg and bacon. “Oh! That's very smart, Charles. You are a wise man!” You made your small sandwich, a grin across your face.“You cook like this often?” Charles asked, taking a bite from his sandwich. You stiffened slightly, worried if everything had tasted bad or was overcooked. “Every day, I do breakfast and dinner; I hope you’re asking to come by more often and not because it's foul?” you laughed, trying to make light of it, but your smile faltered slightly. Your stomach is already twisted in ways you couldn’t explain, but to add the layer that your food was bad? Your stomach felt tight. “No, Father (Name), it's perfectly fine, very good food."Javier leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours. “You’d make a good wife. Why aren’t you married?” he said, toned low and teasing. His voice was undeniably warm, and it made your skin flush. Javier shifted in his seat, his knee brushing against yours just slightly. The contact was subtle, but it sent a warmth flooding through you, making your breath hitch momentarily. You forced yourself to focus on the biscuit sandwich in your hand.“Other than the fact that I am a man?” you said, trying to maintain your composure, though your voice trembled slightly. “I was young when I vowed chastity. I never was much into relationships. My relationship with God and friends has always taken up that space… at least, I like to think so.” You laughed weakly, hoping the words lighten enough to mask your uncertainty.“You can’t miss what you’ve never had,” you said, trying to deflect, hoping to ease the weight of the question that had made your chest tighten. Each man’s mind seemed to race, caught somewhere between curiosity and something more, something deeper that you couldn’t quite name. “Never?” Charles chimed in, his voice a touch incredulous. He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on the table as he studied you. “Like never at all? Never a fling or a kiss?" You swallowed, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you finished the last bite of your biscuit sandwich, using the moment to avoid the pressure of their eyes on you. You wiped your mouth with a napkin, trying to act casual, but you could feel your pulse quicken, the room shrinking around you.“Nope, Mister Smith,” you said with a playful edge, trying to lighten the mood, though you could hear your voice tremor. “I didn’t have a rebellious phase or anything.”Kieran, quietly observing the exchange, finally spoke up, his voice gentle: “You’re quite a good-looking man. Have girls never fallen over themselves for you?” Laughing, you shook your head. “Nope, my brothers always got those confessions in our neighborhood. I focused on playing and getting better at games to beat them.” Each man chuckled, finishing up his meal.“You’re a strong man, Father (Name). If I had your looks, I’d be a friend of every lady.” Kieran had a big grin across his face, eating some leftover bacon.Charles stood and took everyone's plate, placing each in the sink before washing them. “Oh, Mister Smith! You don’t have to! Please, you are a guest.” You stood holding out your hand, and he softly brushed away. “You took the time to make food for those in need; the least we can do is wash the dishes, especially because we’ll return for dinner."You felt a pair of hands pull you backward from your hips, “Well, don’t make us all look bad, Charles; we will help too, Father. You go sit down and rest.” Your skin continued to burn as Javier's hands lingered, “Well, if you men insist, I will find chores elsewhere; please let me know when you plan to head out! Dinner is at 7; bring any other friends you may have!”You shuffled out of the kitchen, giving Kieran a smile as your mind went into a panic. You would take this time to wash your sheet and maybe dip in the nearby river, as the cool water would help you calm down a bit before they come back later.
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Plenty of people passed Valentine, and there must be in-season fish nearby, so as you stopped by the river, it was packed with men, a few with their sons fishing the day away.You signed, folding the sheet in your arms more tightly as you returned to town. As you reached the hotel, your feet began to tire, and you regretted not bringing your horse, but no use crying about it now.Pushing the wooden door open, the man smiled and greeted you. “Welcome in, Father. What can I do for you?” Reaching for your wallet, you placed a dollar on the counter. “A bath, please. Do you offer a washing service? I can wash it myself; I just need the washing board!” The hotelier gave you 75 cents back and waved his hand, taking the sheet from your hands.“Nonsense, One of the bath girls will clean this up for you at no charge. The bath is warmed up for you, just down the corridor.” Before you could speak, the sheet was long gone in the arms of one of the women who worked there. Your face burned, ashamed to have someone else clean the sheet.You wandered back to the bathroom door, glancing out of the window. You saw some townspeople out and about with their day, and if you squinted, you could see a litter of newborn sheep.The bathwater steamed when you stepped into the room; you toyed with the crucifix around your neck before slipping your clothes off. You wanted the coldness of the river, but if you were paying, you’d rather pay for the effort of warm water.If there were pieces of heaven on earth, one piece was a warm bath. Your muscles relaxed as you submerged yourself to your neck, cross-floating in the water. The soaps provided were nice-smelling, mainly woodsy smells, with one almond floral smell you picked up.The bar was small enough for you to scrub it against your arms, taking your time. The sudds that formed gathered around your body as you began to hear muffled talking just outside the door. There was a light knock on the door: “Would you like any help in there, Father? I got your sheet all clean if you want me to leave it at the front counter.”“That’s alright, Miss! I won’t be needing any help.” Your voice was a little shaky. A good hour or so had passed, and you needed to hurry back in time for mass. Dunking your head under the water, the last bits of soap dissolved into your scalp. Your back is pressed against the bottom of the tub, taking the last few seconds to enjoy the warmth around your legs and back. As you rose from the water, you took a deep breath and wiped the water off your face.Eyes stinging at the soapy water, you groaned and reached for the provided towel, quickly cleaning off your eyes. The temperature difference from the bath made you shiver. You needed to go back to the church faster. There might be four townspeople, but you wanted to be there for them.The steps up to the church creaked as organ music softly played from the back of the building. From what you could tell, Father Gavin had started mass; you quickly went into the building, trying to take soft steps not to cause any issues or distractions. It was the prayer of thanks, so you quickly put on your vestment.Father Gavin smiled at you and leaned over as you grabbed the small bowl of communion wafers, “It’s good to see you take time for yourself, Father (Name).” The small metal bowl was cold in your hands as you smiled. Yes, you were late to start mass yourself, but a long hot bath was what you needed to relax.You glanced across the pews. The usual townspeople were there, but your eyes caught sight of Javier and Kieran, plus three women and two men you had never seen before. Your heart swelled as you tried not to laugh at their awkward expressions. The women sat in the same row, each with their eyes closed and in prayer. But Javier kept peaking his eyes open, and Kieran hadn’t begun to kneel, and his eyebrows were screwed together, making a confused expression.Usually, people would line up to consume the body and blood of Christ, but for new people, you’d go out of your way to explain the process to them their first time. Father Gavin said amen, and everyone within the pews looked up; the townspeople who knew made their way to Father Gavin as you walked the opposite way to the women first.“Good Morning, ladies. I am so happy you could join us. I am Father (Name).” You held your hand out for each woman to shake: Karen, Mary-Beth, and Tilly. “Beautiful names you all have, so this is the body of Christ. It's just a bread wafer; I can hand it to you or put it in your mouth. It is your choice.” Mary Beth pointed to the gold cup in your other hand, “What’s that you got there?” you raised the cup and explained it was the blood of Christ, but it was just a tiny sip of wine after the bread. The trio of women hummed and held out their hands for the small wafer, each mumbling an Amen before placing it on their tongue. You held the cup to their lips and gently tilted it upwards. When you turned, you heard Tilly whisper, “That’s not bad wine. I wonder where he got it.”Your head turned to the four men. “Hello, gentlemen. I’m Father (Name). You heard me speak to these lovely ladies, so it’s your choice.” You held up the small bowl. Kieran opened his mouth and closed his eyes, and you lightly pressed the wafer to his tongue. He said thank you before you gave him a sip of wine. Your eyes move to Javier, whose eyes are already watching your hands. His hands were clasped in his lap as he opened his mouth and slightly stuck out his tongue.Your face felt hot, and the slight giggle you heard from the three women didn't help. You pressed the wafer to his tongue, Javier's eyes never leaving yours. The cup and bowl were no longer cool; your body heat warmed the metals. As you tipped the cup forward for Javier, he licked his lips as you turned to one of the new men. One of them was very well dressed. His clothes fit him perfectly, and you had no doubt they were made for him. They had to be tailor-made. He held his hand as he told you his name, “Dutch.” You smiled and nodded. He placed a wafer in his hand and quickly ate it as he eyed the gold cup. You held it to his lips as he adjusted his deep red vest. When you pulled away, he moved his hand to hold his chin, thinking to himself.The older man also held out his hand for a wafer, making a slight toasting motion. “Hosea.” You smiled and nodded, Pressing the cup against his lips and tilting it upward. He felt a lot nicer than the Dutch, and his smile was very welcoming compared to the blank face of the Dutch.You stepped back, trying to regain your composure. Were men always this handsome? Did you get lucky and never run into such handsome men until now? “Well, from now on, this will be the process should you ever come back, but you will walk to the front of the chapel instead.” You bid them farewell as you walked to the altar to continue mass. You were dying for a nap as you entered your room at four; mass went well; all of the men and women lingered around as Mary-Beth excitedly asked to look at the collection of books you mentioned. Your heart dropped when you realized you had left your sheet at the hotel in your hurry home. You would have to make do with your comforter and the quilt you kept over your bed.Grabbing the comforter, you tucked it under your chin. The quilt was over your body as you hugged the mound of comforter. The quilt was given to you years ago. Its colors are your favorite hues. Small pattern squares are scattered throughout. You did realize how cold the day had gotten; the sun beat down on you heavily this morning, so the change felt sudden as you lightly shivered. You were back in the hotel tub, the warm water swirling around you, and a sweet smell filled the air. As you sunk into it, the water had a slight steam.Knock knock knock“Do you need help with the bath, Father (Name)?” The voice wasn't the same as the bath woman you remembered. Before you could answer, the lock clicked, “Actually, it’s my treat.” The voice was sultry as the door opened!!!!!!!
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“Javier? When did you start working here?” your voice slightly trembled as you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself. You brought your knees up to your chest, trying to shield your body from view through the steamy water.Javier's heavy boots made a soft thud as they struck the wooden floor, and with grace, he perched himself at the edge of the tub. “Cálmate mi vida, just doing my job.”(Calm down my soul) his voice was as playful as ever but so collected.His usual outfit differed from what he was wearing now. His usual hat was absent from his head, but his hair was still neatly tied back, the same two strands framing his face. Pancho and denim jacket gone, leaving him in his bright white shirt rolled up to his elbows and blue vest that seemed tight around his waist. It clung to him much more than you remember it.‘Was his waist always that small?’He tenderly pressed his warm hands into your damp shoulders, urging you to relax. Then, he took the soap bar and rubbed it between his hands. The suds covered his hands as he placed the soap bar down and softly started washing your hair. Your arms still hugged your legs as you sighed, leaning into Javier's hands.“You’ve needed someone to spoil you, Father (Name)?” for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. His teasing words hung in the air as his hands did slow, deliberate circles in your hair. He rinsed your hair with a few cups of water before grabbing the soap bar and lifting your leg slightly, gliding the soap bar down your calf. Your head felt fuzzy as his hands continued to go up your thigh, squeezing the skin.Your hips twitched forward as you whined; the warm water surrounding your hard-on felt intoxicating on its own, but it wasn’t enough contact for you. You were desperate for more friction.In an instant, his lips pressed against yours with a feverish urgency. Between your bodies, his chest pressed against yours, revealing that his shirt and vest were both undone, showcasing his lean build. “No puedo quedarme con las recompensas de un buen hombre como tú.” (I can’t keep rewards from a good man like you) Everything began to fade as one hand held your face close, the other having a soft grip on the base of your cock. He held eye contact with you as his hand slowly moved up and down. He licked his lips, and his mouth marked your neck. Small kisses turned into mouthing the sensitive skin on your neck. Your eyes burned as his hand moved to roll the beads of your crucifix between his fingers. Everything felt so intense, so strong. But there was a knock again at the door, “Father (Name)? Are you okay in there?” The voice was soft, and you couldn’t help but snivel; you were so close, so so close; who could be at the door?Javier's mouth detached from your neck, “Aw, maybe next time, huh mi vida?” His eyes were half-lidded as he did a slight pout; everything faded as your eyes snapped open, the knocking at your door much louder than in your dream; you groaned, aching hard-on all the more painful from no release.You were lucky the skirt of your cassock was flowy enough to hide it; as you opened the door just a crack, Javiers smiling face looked back at you. Your knees almost gave way as he held up the sheet you had forgotten at the hotel. There was no way he could know what you just dreamed about. It wasn’t written on your forehead: “Like a teen overflowing with hormones, I had a lewd dream about you!”“I was at the general store when the hotelier stopped to ask me to deliver this. I figured I could arrive early and hang around before dinner. You nodded, taking the sheet in your hands. “Of course! Please, I’ll meet you in the kitchen soon! I’ll just put this on my bed now!” your hand extended to the kitchen. Subconsciously, you held the sheet closer to your lap, worried that somehow he would notice your boner through the three loose layers of fabric you wore.You glanced down at his waist, noticing its more obvious dips inward. Your face flushed as Javier sauntered his way to the kitchen.The door clicked shut, and you all but fell to the floor, clutching the sheet to your chest.What were the chances?
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“Arthur? What are you doing here?” your voice slightly trembled as you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself. You brought your knees up to your chest, trying to shield your body from view through the steamy water.He smirked at your attempts at hiding yourself, “Well, I did say, Father (Name), I think you deserve a real reward for your work, didn’t you?” His hands quickly worked the buttons on his black button-up in ink.“And I try to be a man of my word.” He grinned, “Well, just fer you, I am.” his shirt was completely off. You grew hard at the sight, almost moaning at the sight alone as he kicked off his boots and slid his pants down. He was bare before you besides his riding gloves and hat. He joined you in the hot water of the bath, pulling your legs apart with almost no fighting from you. “I don’t want you hidin' anythin from me, Father (Name).” Voice low and teasing as he settled into your lap. The water in the tub slightly overflowed at the extra body in the water.Your cock rested against the curve of his ass. You stared up at his face, still unable to make out any actual facial features staring back at you. Arthurs's hand dipped into the water, guiding your cock before slowly sinking. Your lips pressed together, holding in the cry at the feeling of his soft and warm walls squeezing you so firmly.The moan vibrated in your throat as Arthurs's head lulled back, a feeling of bliss taking over his body as you reached so deep.“Hiding this away in that stuffy uniform shouldn’t be allowed, Father (Name).” The water of the tub rippled with each up-and-down movement Arthur made. You bit your tongue; there were bound to be other people out and about, and you didn’t want to be loud and potentially get caught.Arthurs's gloved hand cupped your cheek, leather-covered thumb forcing it into your mouth. His thrusts never stopped. They were harsher: “What did I say ‘bout hidin’ Father (Name)? Afraid someone is gonna hear that yer already fucked stupid after two minutes?” He held his thumb between your teeth, rubbing the soft side of your cheek. Unable to close your mouth, your moans began to flow freely. Small cries mixed in as Arthurs's hips began to roll against yours. The new fluid motion made you hold Arthurs's broad shoulders for support. He was right; nothing occupied your mind but his body against yours, being inside of him, and how desperate you were feeling to let go of the tight tension in your stomach. Your head rested on his chest; his skin was hot as you tried to kiss across the mounds of flesh.His thumb left your mouth, a string of drool attached to his gloved hand as he yanked your head back by your hair. You groaned, and the sting of pain went straight to your dick, causing your hips to stutter.The water splashed out of the tub, puddles getting bigger on the floor. “Come on, Father (Name), give a poor unsaved soul an internal blessing. There was a harsh knock on the door; you would’ve ignored it if it hadn’t been so loud, startling you. Arthur huffed, pulling you in for a kiss as everything faded away, releasing just out of reach. Your eyes snapped open, the knocking at your door much louder than in your dream; you groaned, aching hard-on all the more painful from no release.You were lucky the skirt of your cassock was flowy enough to hide it; as you opened the door, just a crack—your forgotten bed sheet on the floor, with a folded parchment paper on top.The cursive was delicate across the paper.‘I heard around that you left this, and I figured I could make the day more manageable for you by dropping it off. See you tonight.’-A.MYour heart leaped from your chest. The bed sheet clutched close to your chest as your door clicked shut. Deep breaths as you waited for your hard-on to go down before starting dinner.
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“Charles, what are you doing here?” Your voice slightly trembled as you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself. You brought your knees up to your chest, trying to shield your body from view through the steamy water.His expression remained unchanged as his eyes flicked across the room, never landing on you for more than a couple of seconds at a time.“I’ve just been wanting some privacy lately. Do you mind?” His hand motioned to the tub. You shook your head, scooting further to the edge of the tub. He undressed casually, the gun belt thudding on the floor as he slid his shirt off over his head. His large size was obvious, given his height, but seeing him out of his slightly baggy clothes confirmed how muscular he was. You averted your eyes from staring too long, fearing you’d make him uncomfortable by eating him alive with your eyes. He joined you in the bath, the water rising as he sat across from you. His legs pressed against your sides. There wasn't enough room in the tub for two grown men, but the closeness was intoxicating. Steam swirled around as Charles closed his eyes as you watched his chest rise and fall.Charles's arms rested on the tub's sides, hands slightly gripping the porcelain edges. You glanced at a hair brush set on a crate beside the tub.“Can I brush your hair, Charles?” his right eye peeked open as he hummed a ‘Sure.’ He closed his eyes again, noticing you did not grab the brush, or your entire bottom half would be out in the open.The cool air sent a shiver down your spine as you grasped the steel handle of the hairbrush. You sank back into the soothing, warm water and leaned toward Charles. Kneeling, you couldn’t quite reach his head from where you were. His hands reached your hips, holding the plush skin before pulling you into his lap. “No need to be nervous,” he murmured. “we’re both in the same boat here.” your opposite hand reached for the back of his head to undo the small tied-back portion.The tie hadn’t been tight, but it had been in place for so long that you could feel relief ripple through him when it finally released. His hair fell free, tumbling around his shoulders, dark and rich against his skin. It framed his face perfectly, and you couldn’t help but pause, your breath catching in your throat. There was something magical about seeing him like this—his vulnerability, the way he trusted you to undo the small, carefully constructed pieces of him.You ran your fingers through his hair, each strand slipping through your fingers like silk, the sensation sending warmth flooding through you. His eyes closed, his body leaning into your touch, his breath deepening as you continued to caress him—each movement slow and deliberate. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you even closer.His whole body seemed to soften under you, using the bush to take out any knots as his head pushed forward to rest against your chest. There was no way he couldn’t feel your hardened member; it was practically resting against his chest with the position you two were in.You couldn’t ignore his, as it was pressed against your thigh. You continued brushing, wanting to ignore the temptation to press against him. But Charles beat you to the punch; his large hand traced a vein on the underside of your cock. Your hips stuttered, hands momentarily stopped. His finger continued tracing as he looked up at you, “Keep going.” You continued brushing, hands shaking as he finally fully took hold of your cock.You panted as the pace got faster, now tugging at Charles's hair. His light groans filled the room, the pressure from the pulling made his stomach tighten.He raised his head, taking his other hand and tracing your jaw before capturing your lips against his. The slight stubble on his chin lightly scratched against yours as he deepened the kiss, tongue sliding against yours. But there was a knock again at the door, “Father (Name)? Are you okay in there?” The voice was soft, and you couldn’t help but whine; you were so close, so so close; who could be at the door?Charles’s eyes were half-lidded, lips puffy from kissing as everything faded as your eyes snapped open, the knocking at your door much louder than in your dream; you groaned, aching hard-on all the more painful from no release.You were lucky the skirt of your cassock was flowy enough to hide it. As you opened the door just a crack, Charles's looming figure covered most of the light, attempting to enter the room. “Hi, Father (Name). I was at the stable when the hotelier stopped to ask me to deliver this. I figured I could arrive early to make up for breakfast.” Your white bedsheet was in his hands, and you blushed, taking the thin fabric from his hands. “That very kind of you, Mister Smith, but there is no need to repay me for my work!”Charles waved his hand; you now noticed the bow attached to his back. Was he a hunter?“I can join you in the kitchen. Let me just put this on my bed!” The door clicked shut after Charles nodded and stepped out of the hallway. You needed to calm down before heading out and making dinner. Taking a deep breath, you moved the heavy quilt and comforter laying out the sheet. You felt so wound up; tonight would be a long night.
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“Kieran? What are you doing here?” Your voice slightly trembled as you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself. You brought your knees up to your chest, trying to shield your body from view through the steamy water.Kieran, slightly hunched, removed his hand and placed it on a crate beside a shelf. “Well, Father (Name), I just wanted to come in and help ya.” his voice was just as shaky as yours. Before you could protest, Kieran rolled up his sleeves. Taking the soap bar in his hands before dipping it into the water.His face looked anxious despite his non-hesitant movements, such as rubbing the bar of soap across your chest in circular motions. Your face flushed as you held up a hand to stop Kieran.“You don’t have to, Kieran. I know how to bathe myself!”“Truth be told, Father (Name), I wanted to help you with somethin’ else.” His hand sunk into the water, stopping at your stomach. “Hearin that ya never had a lady, I just couldn’t... Stop thinking about giving you that chance.” His puppy eyes felt like a shot in the heart. “I know ya can’t touch yerself, but please, let me do it for you!” he stared you in the eyes, fingers twitching against your stomach; his hands were eager to touch you.This had to fall under your vow, but god would have to understand this moral break. Such a pretty man offering to help; anyone would fold, no? You nodded your head, putting your legs down to allow him better access to your lower half. His hand was much warmer than the water as it wrapped around you. The pace he started with was uneven, but the friction nonetheless had you twitching.His eyes were glued to your manhood; a look of nervousness flashed across his face as his hand finally landed on a firm and even stroke. One of your hands reached Kieran, feeling the texture of his facial hair against your tender, wet hands. The water splashed around his hand as it briefly went above water.Light eyes darted between your lips, and he held you firmly. He didn’t want to miss seeing your face, but he was infatuated with watching your cock twitch. Your lips captured his, a moan vibrating from your throat. Kieran let out a whine, eyes squeezing shut. A growing bludge was obvious in his pants as he pressed further into your mouth. Your stomach felt tight, the jolts of pleasure becoming too much.The sight of Kieran pressing himself against the tub's edge, grinding against the hard porcelain at the same time as the thrusts of his hand, made you feel all the more fuzzy inside. “I can’t help myself; you're just too beath-taking.” But there was a knock again at the door, “Father (Name)? Are you okay in there?” The voice was soft, and you couldn’t help but whine; you were so close, so so close; who could be at the door? It was a race against time, and each other was on who could finish sooner. Kieran mewled, hands moving faster as your eyes snapped open, the knocking at your door much louder than in your dream; you groaned, aching hard-on all the more painful from no release.You were lucky the skirt of your cassock was flowy enough to hide it. As you opened the door just a crack, Kieran's small smile greeted you through the crack. “Hi, Father (Name). I was at the stable when the hotelier stopped to ask me to deliver this. I figured I could arrive early to help if you needed it.” Your white bedsheet was in his hands, and you blushed, taking the thin fabric from his hands.“That's very kind of you, Mister Duffy; you didn’t have to come early to help me. I’d just love your company!” Kieran stood fully up with a smile, clasping his hands together. “Let me put my sheet on my bed, and I’ll be right out!” The door clicked shut after Kieran nodded and stepped out of the hallway. You needed to calm down before heading out and making dinner. Taking a deep breath, you moved the heavy quilt and comforter laying out the sheet. You felt so wound up; tonight would be a long night.
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“Dutch? What are you doing here?” your voice slightly trembled as you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself. You brought your knees up to your chest, trying to shield your body from view through the steamy water. “Just wanted to speak to you, Father (Name), man to man.” you inwardly groaned, but wanting to be polite, you just smiled and nodded. Did he have to speak to you while you were in the nude?“I’m not sure why everyone took to you so fast,” he said, his arms crossed as he leaned against the tub. “One day, my son goes off to see you, and then two of them are gone to see you hours later, and the next day, you have four of my boys in town waiting to get to you.”You noticed the rings on his fingers—thick gold and beautiful against his skin, each a testament to just the kind of life he lived. He was neat and put together, his slim hips accentuated by his fitted slacks."Now I understand what it is about you, Father," he continued, his voice dropping lower, almost a purr. “It’s how you look at them and make them feel... With those big, bright eyes of yours."His words hung in the air, charged with something that felt too intimate, too personal to be mere observation. He took another step, closing the gap between you until the distance between you felt like nothing. His fingers brushed against your arm as he shifted his stance, the contact light but leaving a trail of heat in its wake. You sucked in a breath, unsure if it was from the sudden warmth or the way your heart was hammering in your chest.His hands guided you to stand up; you shivered at the cold air on your hard-on. Being so exposed, the only thing on you is your rosary. He scanned your body, taking in your figure."Any man who breathes near you," Dutch whispered, his voice roughened by the closeness, "makes you stumble over yourself." His lips quirked upward, that teasing smirk dancing across his face. His eyes didn’t leave yours, though, watching for any flicker of reaction. As he began to go down, resting on one knee, taking your cock in his calloused hand. His voice was a soft drawl, smooth as silk; a darker current made your pulse race. He reached up and traced along the veins. “It’s not just about you. It’s about what you make them feel. It's about what I feel when I see you with them.”He kissed the soft skin of your stomach, mustache slightly scratching your pelvis. "Does it make you uncomfortable being seen like this?" Dutch’s voice was almost a whisper now, soft but laced with a challenge that caught your breath. He licked a stripe up your hard-on, taking the tip into his mouth. His eyes dropped to your cock again, then flicked back to your eyes, his gaze steady and intense, as if daring you to do anything to him. He slipped you out of his mouth for a second. “Or do you like it?”He lowered his hand, fingers brushing briefly over your arms as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your dick. “You have a way of making men want to be around you... and I’m not sure if I should be curious or angry about it. Hell, maybe both.” His hand had a firm grip as he jerked you off; a lewd wet noise began from his spit and your pre cum being rubbed into the skin."I don’t control how they feel," you moaned. "They choose to be here." Your thighs tightened, unable to ground yourself back into reality. He switched between using his hand or his mouth if he spoke.Dutch raised an eyebrow, his gaze mocking, amusement dancing in his eyes. He continued to hollow out his cheeks, creating enough space between you to let you breathe but not enough to break the tension.“No one ever chooses without being chosen,” he said, his voice colder now.His hand gently brushed your hair away from your face. “Any man would want to be around you when you act like a shy damsel.” But there was a knock again at the door, “Father (Name)? Are you in there?” The voice was rough, and you couldn’t help but whine; you were so close, so so close; who could be at the door?“I’m a greedy man, Father (Name).” His hand sped up, licking the base of your cock at the same time. “Give me all you got.” your legs shook, eyes watering as his tongue flicked against your tip again. “Dutch..!” your voice no more than a whisper as his mouth only felt warmer and wetter around you. The knocking at your door was much louder than in your dream; you groaned, aching hard-on all the more painful from no release.You were lucky the skirt of your cassock was flowy enough to hide it. As you opened the door just a crack, Kieran's small smile greeted you through the crack.“Hi, Father (Name). I was at the general store when the hotelier asked if someone could deliver this. I figured I could arrive early to talk.” Your white bedsheet was in his hands, and you blushed, taking the thin fabric from his hands. “That's very kind of you, Mister…” You never did get his last name, “Dutch, very kind of you indeed!”You smiled. “Let me put my sheet on my bed, and I’ll be right out!” The door clicked shut after Dutch nodded and stepped out of the hallway. You needed to calm down before heading out to make dinner. Taking a deep breath, you moved the heavy quilt and comforter, laying out the sheet. You felt so wound up; tonight would be a long night.
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“Hosea, what brings you here?” Your voice slightly trembled as you instinctively wrapped your arms around yourself. You brought your knees up to your chest, trying to shield your body from view through the steamy water.“Well, I just thought I’d stop by and share this new medicine I found. It's nice on the lungs.” Hosea smiled, taking a small cloth bag from his heavy jacket pocket. His clothes slipped off casually as he spoke, “As we get older, we have to be more mindful of how we treat our bodies.”As he slowly sank into the shimmering water, a delicate cloud of steam rose around him, creating an almost ethereal atmosphere. He let the bag fall from his fingers, watching it drift downward gracefully. The moment it touched the surface, a rich aroma began to fill the air—a delightful smell of peppermint, sweet honey, and warm ginger enveloped you two.The bag radiated a soft orange hue, casting a gentle glow that danced along the water's surface. The coolness of the peppermint tingled like a playful bite at your throat, coaxing you into taking a deep, refreshing breath. Each deep breath was like a soothing embrace you saw Hosea also enjoying.The only movement from the water came as Hosea beckoned you forward. You stood on your knees, inching closer. Nimble fingers pressed into your shoulders, messaging the skin and pushing deep into the muscle, causing you to groan in slight pain. Hosea also stands on his knees, hands moving under your arms, prodding at the middle of your back, undoing the deep knots in your muscles. It hurt but felt so good as the knots became loose, and you could feel your back become tender.The sharp, invigorating aroma of fresh mint intertwined with honey's warm, syrupy sweetness wafted through the air, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. You pressed your body against Hosea's sturdy torso, feeling the warmth radiate from him as you settled into the embrace. Your head nestled into the crook of his neck, where the earthy scent of his skin mingled with a faint sweetness. As you inhaled deeply again, the blend of aromas filled your lungs, grounding you further in the moment. He coed at you softly, commenting on how strong your body was.His hands moved with purpose, fingers deftly finding the troubled spots along your back. Each press was firm as if he instinctively knew the knots and kinks that had bothered you, unraveling them carefully. You could feel the tension melt away under his skilled touch, the stress of the day dissolving as he worked at the hidden aches, bringing a profound sense of relief that reverberated through your entire being. It was almost enough to forget the looming feeling of lust forming in your stomach. Your head hung low, slightly embarrassed of how he praised you.“Look how sweet you are, so docile.” His hands were softer now, pressing much lighter into your stomach, finally giving attention to your weeping hard-on. Your head hung low, slightly embarrassed of how he praised you and just how much you liked it.“I didn’t know you’d be so sensitive, Father (Name).” The tender ache from having your back thoroughly massaged set in as you whined in response. “Hosea…” Hosea laughed lightly, lifting your head to meet his eyes. His gaze was soft as he admired your face. You both were older men, so each line across your face was beautiful to him. His light eyes scanning your face made your body twitch, his focus only on you.Hosea pressed his cock to yours, slowly grinding them against each other. Continuing to hold your face up, your eyes were half-lidded. Time had vanished while he worked his magic on your back, and it felt like you had been hard with no attention for hours. So finally, as the warmth of his body envelops yours, you couldn’t help but drool at overstimulating contact. His thrusts against you kept on cupping your cheek and closing your slightly opened mouth, “Don’t forget to mind your manors, Father (Name).” His thin hand cupped your jaw, closing your mouth completely. But there was a knock again at the door, “Father (Name)? Are you in there?” The voice was soft, and you couldn’t help but snivel; you were finally getting the attention you wanted; who could be at the door?“You are a busy man, Father (Name), and duty calls.” your head shook from side to side, trying to stay, but everything faded as your eyes snapped open, the knocking at your door much louder than in your dream; you groaned, aching hard-on all the more painful from no release.You were lucky the skirt of your cassock was flowy enough to hide it; as you opened the door just a crack, Hosea's soft, smiling face looked back at you. “Hi, Father (Name). I was at the stable when the hotelier asked if someone could deliver this. I figured I could arrive early to see how you were.” Your white bedsheet was in his hands, and you blushed, taking the thin fabric from his hands. “That's very kind of you, Hosea!” Hosea nodded and slightly bowed his head. "I understand you're a busy man, so I figured I could help where I can." Your face flushed as your dream momentarily came back to you.Shaking your head you smiled. “Let me put my sheet on my bed, and I’ll be right out!” The door clicked shut after Hosea nodded and stepped out of the hallway. You needed to calm down before heading out to make dinner. Taking a deep breath, you moved the heavy quilt and comforter, laying out the sheet. You felt so wound up; tonight would be a long night.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
There was no alone time with you and the man who greeted you after your nap. A small sigh of relief went unnoticed by everyone as you scanned the room. The church hadn't been this full since you started working here in Valentine. You felt somewhat nervous at the number of people; for many years, it had been just you and the occasional visitors who stumbled by while you cooked, along with Mickey when he'd show up again.Mary-Beth led Karen and Tilly to the back room, where Sister Agnes had set up books and other activities for when she stopped by. They were giggling all the way and waved to you.Hosea sat at a table with Javier and Kieran, exchanging small talk. The smell of cigarettes was slight in the air. Suddenly, a gentle hand rested on your shoulder, causing you to jump slightly. Your heart racing, you placed a hand against your chest and turned to find Charles standing there.“Oh! Hello, Mister Smith! You startled me,” you laughed off your brief fright, the sound a little breathless.“I brought you this; I thought you could use it tonight.” His other hand held out a carefully wrapped package, thick cream-colored paper cradled in his large hand. You took it from his hand, unwrapping it to reveal beautiful red meat.His hand lingered on your shoulder, warming you with his touch. His proximity gave you a small, unexpected thrill. Perhaps he was just being polite, but the moment felt charged, and a flutter of something deeper stirred within you.“This will work beautifully, Mr. Smith. Thank you for the generous donation,” you said, placing your hand gently atop his warm one resting on your shoulder. It felt electric, and you were sure no one had noticed the intentions behind your action; just paying the favor back and getting to touch Charles was just a plus.“Father (Name), do you need any help with dinner?” Kieran perked up, his eyes almost pleading to help. He had asked so many times that you started to think he was a busybody, always needing to do something, even when relaxing. Charles's hand left your shoulder, landing at his side as you thought about a possible job for Kieran.“Sure, Mister Duffy, could you wash off the potatoes?” You suggested, trying to quickly distract from the lingering warmth of Charles still spreading through you. Practically leaping into action, Kieran grabbed the sack from the ground and moved it to the medium-sized sink the church had installed.The bison chuck settled on the counter as you bent slightly to guide Kieran through washing potatoes. Your fingertips brushed against his hand when you noticed him struggling to keep hold of the potatoes.If looks could kill, Kieran would've been six feet under weeks ago, but especially now, there would be fresh dirt on his grave as each man observed the subtle touches of your hands over Kieran and how the sides of your hips were pressed together.You explained how to peel the potatoes without cutting his hands, and it suddenly dawned on you that you weren't wearing your cooking apron! There was no way you'd risk dirtying your cassock by unconsciously wiping your hands on it. The skirt of your cassock slightly lifted as you spun to grab your apron.You pulled the fabric and admired it. You had it for many years, and it was a faded gingham pattern in your favorite color. Your hands, like clockwork, tied the apron behind your back with no complication. “You’re a capable man, Kieran; I’ll work on the bison now.”“Of course, Father (name)!”The cream-colored paper crinkled in your hands as you fully unwrapped it. You couldn’t help but admire the chunk of meat; the color was beautiful. Of course, you’d seen meat fresh off the bone living in Valentine, but bison wasn’t processed here. Any time it was donated or brought into town, it was when an outside vendor stopped through.Your trustee skillet pan was heating up on the stove for a pan sear cooking of the meat.Looking at the thickness of the meat and the number of people, you could fry it in quarter-inch slices to have plenty of extra. The knives in the church had never been the sharpest, and you had put off sharpening them for so long that the task was tedious. But when the knife slid effortlessly through the meat, as though cutting through silk, you couldn't help but smile in surprise.The idle chat behind you continued as you worked; the chatter helped you work. Most nights were silent, and while it was nice to have a peaceful night, a room full of people and talking was more than welcome. Had Father Gavin taken the time to sharpen them for you?The sound of voices behind you swirled softly in the background, blending with the rhythm of your work. Most nights, the kitchen's silence would settle, a peaceful solitude, but tonight, the hum of conversation felt like a warm embrace. You welcomed it even more than you expected.“Ay Father (Name), are the knives working better? You guys had them so dull.” Javier's voice was much closer than the seat he was previously in as he crossed his arms and leaned next to you. “Oh! I didn’t realize you had done this, Mister Escuella! I had been putting off sharpening them for so long I thought Father Gavin had taken care of it for me.” Javier glared for a moment, upset and almost offended that his efforts would’ve gone to the likes of Gavin.“When you left this morning, I thought I might as well clean them up for you.”His attention to knives shouldn’t have been surprising when you remembered his scarred hands—the small cut scars littering his fingers. You looked at your hands, cutting the meat, comparing them with Javier's. It looked like you had never done a day's work, even if that was the farthest thing from the truth.His presence made you nervous, as you were almost done cutting the meat strips. You were sure the knife was sharper after Javier had worked his magic than when you first purchased it. You placed a pot on another burner, tossing in some salt and waiting for it to boil to make mashed potatoes.Four pieces of meat could fit in the pan, with butter and a few herbs to taste. The pan's smell quickly mixed in the air, overtaking the tobacco scent that filled the room."You’ve got a way with food," he said, his voice barely more than a whisper now. "Doesn’t just come from a recipe book, does it?" You flipped the meat in the pan.“Well, in seminary school, I had free time to work with the nuns for a few cents a day, picked up some things from them, and showed me plenty of cooking tips and methods. To keep the most people fed and satisfied!” you glanced up at him. “It’s like pouring a little piece of your heart into every dish. I think that’s what makes my food taste good.” Javier raised an eyebrow, taking a moment to think before speaking. “So, that means you taste good?” You stumbled over your words, “I… I’m just saying that the food is made with love. It brings people together,” your voice flustered.As you moved to stir the herbs into the pan, Javier’s eyes were fixed on you, the warmth radiating between you both palpable. “It brings us together,” Hosea mused behind you. You peeked over to see him smiling softly. Your eyes returned to the stove as you finally saw the pot boiling harshly.“Oh! Kieran, how are the potatoes?” You left the meat to cook to join Kieran at the cutting board. A slight grin was on his face as he showed that he was practically done washing and peeling.“Great job, Kieran! You did amazing for the first time you’ve done this.” You took a different knife from the drawer and easily sliced through the potatoes, cutting them in fours as you added them to the pot.The rest of the cooking went smoothly, roasting carrots with rosemary and thyme sprinkled on them and mashed potatoes with butter, ground salt, and pepper. Of course, the meat was the main attraction; it had all your focus as you plated each meal.The women, especially Karen and Mary Beth, came out of the room commenting on the smell. They insisted that it practically lured them out as they stood and waited to make a plate.“Here you ladies go!” You handed each woman a plate with a big smile. They looked at you, stunned. “Wow, thank you, Father (Name)! What a gentleman!” Tilly had a big smile as she turned to sit in the pews. “Those fools could learn a thing or two!” Mary-Beth and Karen followed, paying you their compliments and following to sit in the pews as well. Mary-Beth whispered, ‘See! I told y’all things would be changing for us women!’You were always polite, or at least tried to be regarding food. Whoever ate first depended on the guests you had. If there were children, they got their meal first, then women, then men. No matter what you ate last, you knew where to find a hot meal you could afford. You didn’t know if the people who came in also had that guarantee.You sat a plate in front of Hosea, a slight thump against the table before you spoke, “Is Dutch not joining us tonight?” Hosea placed a cloth napkin over his thigh. You smiled, turning to pray over your food before digging in.“I don’t think so; he wandered back to camp with Arthur after mass.” Your heart leaped into your throat. Eyes snapping open to your clasped hands over your chest. Your whole body was tense; it couldn’t be Arthur; indeed, Arthur was just a common name. It was so common that there were two separate newcomers with different names. One with affiliation with a gang passing through town and the other… you couldn’t even kid yourself.You were feeding, housing, and even dreaming of these violent outlaws. The ones in Arthur’s stories, the ones you heard horrifying tales about. Part of you knew how you could not subconsciously connect the dots.You knew who these men were, but that made no difference in how you should treat them. They were men like you, and in this building, you wouldn't treat them like criminals; they get enough of that everywhere else.A nervousness stirred in your stomach. Yes, you would treat them like normal men. Knowing their history, you should have been running for the hills. It was foolish to think you’d somehow be safe. But your feet were planted firmly, unmoving. Running from these men who had done nothing to harm you went against everything you had been taught. You couldn’t contradict the lessons you learned in your twenties.You were the biggest fool.But Arthur’s proximity and your complete ignorance of him made you feel naked and exposed. Had he seen you as you walked through town, down by the river, or at the saint's hotel? Had he watched you perform mass? Was he someone you had bumped into or waved at politely?Did he notice the flush on your face when Javier teased you or the innocent look of Kieran as he eyed you over? The thought that you could have been no more than five feet away from him, with no confessional wall between you, was overwhelming.You stared at the counter, which was covered in patterns of blue and white tiles, a few sprinkled with swirls and flowers. “Aw well, that’s… too bad. I hope they can join us soon!” Your hands unclasped as you reached for your plate. The plate was warm in your hands as you sat at the table between Kieran and Charles.The potatoes practically melted in your mouth, and the fresh bison paired delightfully with the roasted carrots. There was a hum of bliss next to you as Hosea took his first bite.You felt something against your boots. Taking a subtle glance down, you noticed Charles's boot against yours. The knees were not quite touching, but they were close—not enough to draw anyone else's attention.“Thank you again, Mister Smith. Without the meat, I’m not sure what I could’ve come up with today!” Charles waved his hand between bites, “I’m sure you could’ve come up with something without me.”You wiped your mouth, “Nonsense! And thank you, Mister Duffy. It’s very kind of you to offer to help me so often.” Halfway through his food, Kieran's big, wide eyes sparkled at the compliment.He smiled and said, You're welcome, the smile never leaving his face. “Of course, Javier, thank you for checking and sharpening the knives! Very thoughtful.”Tilly entered the kitchen doorway with a nervous look, holding her plate. “Father (Name), is there any extra food?” Mary-Beth peeked over Tilly’s shoulder, and your heart swelled with happiness.“Of course there is! Let me help you with that.” You reached for Tilly’s plate, standing up to serve her. The metal plate felt cold, and you noticed a few bites of bison fat left, which you scraped off before preparing a new serving for Tilly.Mary Beth held out her plate, which had two carrots remaining. You chuckled as you saw the small line behind her, including Karen and Kieran.As the evening went on, everyone began to yawn and sway with sleepiness. They bid you goodnight and took their leave, but not before you packed the leftover food for the road. The bison from Charles was more than enough, and you knew they would make better use of the leftovers as a group than you could as one person.After everyone had left, the kitchen fell into a quiet stillness. The only sounds were the soft clinking of utensils being cleaned in the sink and your gentle humming.
You heard the bell ringing—a sign that someone had entered the confessional booth.Footsteps echoed softly across the hardwood floor. With quiet resolve, you prepared yourself for the visit. The door of the confessional booth creaked with a groan as it clicked open and shut, and you settled onto the grim wood of the booth. You had always intended to buy cushions to soften the harshness of the bench. The only reason you hadn’t sooner was a particularly stern bishop from your past had insisted that the discomfort served a higher purpose in God’s favor, that making the sinner uncomfortable was part of the process. It left a bitter taste in your mouth when he would say that.“Good evening, Father,” came a familiar voice solemn in tone. “Good evening, Mister Morgan. “What brings you in tonight?” you replied, noting the subtle pause that followed and the rustling of paper that broke the silence.“I know a man who lends money,” he continued, his voice weary. “He sends me to collect for him, and it doesn’t feel right. The people I’m taking from—sick, desperate, foolish—it's foul work. I hate doing it.”
His confession hung in the air, heavy with regret. You remained silent for a moment, allowing his words to settle into the quiet of the booth before responding gently, “Did something happen with this job recently that made you bring it up to me now?”
“I went to collect from a man here in town,” Arthur's voice cracked with the weight of shame. “Thomas Downes… I went to collect, but by the time I got there, he was already dead.” The mention of Thomas made your heart drop. You had known him—kind, humble, though proud to a fault. The thought of his death made your stomach churn. You and the church had tried to help him in the past, but he’d refuse most days. He only took food and necessities offered to him when he couldn’t find another way.
“I felt relief when I found him dead,” Arthur's voice wavered, “Relief that his debt was no longer a burden on his family or me. But then I saw his boy, and... the look in his eyes, Father... like I was the devil himself. I guess, to him, I was.”
“Death can throw any of us in a spiral. Reminds us we can die at any time.” You’d seen plenty of death; the cemetery was just outside your door. The funerals and wakes you'd oversee through the years were in high numbers for a small town. “I was just surprised, I guess, Father; I’d seen him before when I was out drinkin’ would’ve killed that Tommy if not for him.”“That was you, Mister Morgan? You’re the pretty boy who beat Big Tommy?!”“Pretty boy? That's the part you heard about?” You could hear the pout in Arthurs's voice as you laughed. “All I heard from Miss Walker and Miss Moore was that some new rough and tough dream boat in town fought him. Never would’ve guessed it was you, Arthur.” Your tone was teasing. You felt bold and almost breathless when you could make such a comment.“Arthur? We’re on a first-name basis now (Name)?” A small huff left your mouth. An odd duality existed with you and your title. Of course, it was one you had worked for and earned. Hearing it was nothing new. But it seemed you'd be flustered and stumbling no matter how Arthur said it.“Names have a way of changing things, don’t they?” Arthur’s voice was low, almost intimate now, as if he’d allowed the walls between you to slip just a little. You felt the change, too—how the conversation shifted from heavy confessions to something lighter yet somehow more meaningful.“It does,” you replied softly. “Guess that means we're not just strangers anymore,” he said, and despite the weight of his words, there was a certain warmth in his tone, as if he was testing the idea, letting it settle between you both. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a gentle tug in your chest.“I suppose it does.” Your voice was softer than before, a softness you didn’t often allow yourself. The formality of your position—the title that had defined you for so long—felt less significant now, like something that could be quietly set aside in light of this connection.“Is anything else happening recently?” you asked, remembering when you shared a booth with Arthur. Back then, his stories were filled with a rougher edge—tales of picking fights or provoking trouble. But today felt different; he had two stories to share. The first was light-hearted—he went hunting with a friend, likely Charles, given the mention of bison. And how he heard of a friend who he thought was dead being very much alive but in custody.“I hope he makes it home safe; being stuck in a cell is horrible!” You didn’t want to ask how he’d be home when Arthur said he wouldn’t come by tomorrow.“What were you up to in town today (Name)? I saw you leaving the hotel in a hurry.” you shifted in your seat, hearing the slight scratch of a pencil on Arthurs's side of the booth.“I went to have a bath and get my sheet cleaned! I enjoyed the bath far too much and was almost late for mass.” You sighed. You knew the others in the church didn’t mind you finally taking time for yourself, but it felt rude when people were there expecting to see you.“I have been to that hotel a few times, rent it out for a night to sleep in a real bed.” You hummed, noting that he didn’t have a ‘real bed.’“Speakin’ of I must get goin’ (Name) duty calls.” there was a soft ripping noise under Arthur's low voice.“Goodnight, Arthur. Be safe out there.”“Goodnight (Name).”You stalled behind in the booth, taking in the small noises around you. Arthur's retreating steps as he left. The chirping of crickets just outside of the church, and if you strained your hearing, you could slightly hear the piano from the saloon playing a happy tune.The confessional door swinging open cut through the air. The hinges were so squeaky these days. There was a flutter from behind the door. When you shut the door entirely, you saw a folded paper on the floor. It was a thick piece of paper you tucked into your hands. Retreating to your room before opening it.There was a drawing of you. You gasped softly, your breath hitching in your throat, and your fingers traced the delicate lines of your features on the paper. You were careful not to smudge anything, treating the artwork with the reverence it deserved.It was as if someone had taken a photo of you without your knowledge. The shading in the drawing made you look soft against the buildings. Taking in more of the art, you saw Arthur's signature at the bottom. A.M. and a small heart at the bottom of the M.Warmth bloomed in your stomach as you sat on your bed, still admiring the drawing. You put the drawing on your bedside table and tuck yourself into bed. The heavy quilt over your body adds a comforting pressure.You were giddy as you slipped into sleep. Imagine the drawing over and over again in your head.The usual nighttime routines began on the other side of the train tracks on Horseshoe Outlook. Some were sitting by the fire, picking at Pearson's overcooked food, others were playing at the poker table, and some were aimlessly wandering around, getting ready for bed.Mary-Beth, Tilly, and Karen sat around the campfire with Charles and Javier. Dutches music is playing nearby.“When I was around town today, I heard something interesting about that Father (Name).” Every man glanced over, the game of dominos stopping momentarily between Hosea and Arthur. Javier's strumming slowed, and Charles continued to work on his arrows with Kieran.“Don’t tell me, is he some sort of evil man under that little cape he wears?” Karen laughed, taking a swig from her beer bottle. Tilly waved her hand, laughing, “Well, Mary-Beth and I thought it was bizarre how there are hardly any people at the church, even for free food. We asked these few men at the saloon, and apparently, when Father (Name) first came to Valentine, he very much preferred the company of men.”Heads perked up, “What kind of men?” Kieran's voice sounded too excited as the question left his lips.“See, now that’s the thing—we were hearing all kinds of different answers! Some said a fellow altar boy came with him to Valentine; others claimed it was the former bishop.” Mary-Beth interrupted Tilly: “But then I started hearing it was some handsome ranchhand, a stable boy, or some sort of traveler or hunter he was seen sneaking around with.” Tilly cut back in, “A few of the fellows in the saloon were sayin’ it was men who went to the church; he’d put moves on them during mass, married or not!”“And he didn’t mind swaying his hips for older men, neither!" Their voices began overlapping as they dropped information. “I think I heard he’d even flirt with the rich men in town into donating more money!” “One of the workin’ ladies said she heard of him takin’ in men down on their luck for “Favors.””Mary Beth used her fingers to do quotes.“Now, there's no way girls as smart as you believe that.” Arthurs's voice broke the silence, “You’ve met the man who practically bends backward to help anyone. Could’ve been a misunderstanding!” Mary-Beth clicked her tongue, “Well, true or not, people in town haven’t forgotten about it.” the fire crackled, leaving everyone in their thoughts. Each man couldn’t believe what they heard; there was no way you were capable of it. At least at your age now. But for you to do it 20 years ago? Well, they just didn’t know you then.The most they knew about you from 20 years ago was the photograph of you and other church members when you first arrived. You aged fairly well, and your serious face in the photo didn’t scream that you were some deviant at the time.Everyone turned in for the night, tucking themselves in, but sleep would be restless for the men of the camp, each of them plagued by an odd dream….
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Kieran was working in a stable he didn’t recognize. Brushing a horse, he also did not recognize it at first glance. The scent of hay was strong in his mind as a light breeze rolled in. Brushing the horse's fur in front of him, he looked closer and recognized the slight patterns; it was your horse! A beautiful creature he’d admire when walking past it. He’s never taken care of it before. Though he had often thought about offering to help care for it, his nerves seemed to tighten around him like a vice grip whenever you were around, leaving him speechless.Your horse stood calmly, enjoying the comforting strokes of the brush. Soft neighs filled the stable as the animal leaned into Kieran’s touch, encouraging him to continue. A gentle smile crept across Kieran's face as the horse nuzzled affectionately against his hands, seeking more attention.Just then, your voice broke through his moment of tranquility. “Hey there, stable boy!” enunciating your words, you appeared in the doorway, a playful smirk lighting up your face as you leaned casually against the wooden post that separated you from the pen.Kieran's heart raced at the sound of your teasing tone. He chuckled nervously, trying to maintain his composure. “Oh! Hi there, Father (Name)! Just, uh, checking up on (Horse Name) here!” Stable boy? You’d never call him that. You were always so polite to him. It’s what he cherished most about being around you.“Not causing any trouble, I hope. He’s usually such a good boy,” you said, extending a hand towards the horse, who affectionately pressed his head against your palm.“Uh, no! He’s been very nice this whole time—really! Very comfortable with brushing,” Kieran replied, attempting to sound more at ease as he softly patted the horse’s flank. Just then, the gate clicked open, and you entered the pen with a grace that took him by surprise. Instinctively, Kieran shifted slightly behind the horse.You had never been so assertive with him before, and the sudden change left him flustered and intrigued. Conflicting emotions swirled within him as he tried to gauge your intentions, and his heart fluttered at the new way you were treating him.“What about you, stable boy? Have you been behaving like a good boy?” Your voice pierced the air, cutting through the thick tension around him. Kieran's heart raced, and he felt the telltale beads of sweat form on his palms.“No! Uh, um, I mean, yes? I, I think I’ve been well-behaved!” You waved your hand dismissively as you shooed your horse out of the pen, its hooves softly clattering on the ground. Kieran watched, feeling oddly vulnerable now that he couldn’t hide behind the sturdy figure of the horse.As you approached, he felt exposed under your gaze, as if you could see right through his clothes, though his skin past his bones to his soul. Your eyes seemed to devour him, detailing every quirk and tremor of his being, sending a shiver down his spine.“Ohh, that makes me so happy to hear,” you said sweetly, your hand reaching out to glide through his dark hair with an almost electric gentleness. The soothing sensation of your fingers weaving through his strands sent a wave of warmth through him, and without thinking, a soft whine slipped from his lips; he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He leaned into your hand, instinctively closing his eyes to absorb the calming strokes fully. Time seemed to stretch, the world around him fading as he finally surrendered to the moment.“Hm? What’s this, stable boy? Not trying to steal, are you?” Your fingers tightened in his hair, a firm grip that jolted him back to reality. Kieran's eyes flew open wide with surprise, and he followed your accusatory point right to his erection.“I ain’t stealing, Father (Name), honest!” Panic tinged his voice; shaky and breathless, he was panting. He didn’t want you angry at him, not at all! The thought of disappointing you was unbearable.“What’s this then, huh?” Your finger light ran over his erection, causing it to jump slightly. “It’s- it’s nothin’!! I promise I ain’t stealing!” Your eyes squinted at Kieran; he was practically shaking in your hands, eyes blown out wide but not trying to leave your hold.You scoffed, “Pull ‘em down then; an innocent man will have nothing to hide.” Your grip on his hair stayed the same, and his face only got more red and heated.Finally dropping the horse brush, shaking hands, he undid his trousers. Kieran wanted to curse at himself for how fast he was to listen to you. His instincts told him to get away, but he knew you wouldn’t hurt him. At least he liked to think you wouldn’t. It was against your nature.His union suit didn’t do much to hide his hard-on. His pants pooled around his ankles. Your eyes burned into your skin, taking in the sight.“Do you mind?” Your fingers played with the buttons of his union suit. He whined again, shaking his head no, his blue eyes glued to the movement of your hand as you undid each button. With every pop, the fabric parted slightly, revealing hints of skin beneathHis cock sprung out, buttons no longer holding it in. The hand holding his hair softened at the same time your expression did.“Aww, just look at that,” you said, a gentle smile across your face. “I knew you weren't lying to me, Kieran. You’re such a good and sweet boy.” Your voice was soft and reassuring as you leaned in to kiss his forehead, your fingers tenderly caressing his hair, soothing him with your touch.As you pressed another kiss to his cheek, you felt the warmth of his skin grow even hotter beneath your lips, a sign of the emotions swirling within him. Kieran’s eyes reflected a mix of confusion and longing. He was grappling with the tenderness you showed him; it felt unfamiliar yet comforting.Your gentle affection contrasted with the sharpness of your earlier words, leaving him feeling vulnerable and a bit breathless. His knees felt weak as if he were standing on uncertain ground.Your hand left his hair, “how about a reward? For being such a good and loyal stable boy?” you cooed, fingers ghosted over his weeping cock, a small pearl forming over the slit.Kieran nodded quickly, feeling so much more sensitive than ever before. Finally wrapping your hand around his hard-on, Kieran threw his head back, slightly stumbling backward into a stack of hay bales. You giggled and pressed his back into the hay, following his staggered movements.Your touch felt like heaven to him as you kissed his cheek again. Your hand took a slow pace, and with each pass of your hand, his mind grew more and more fuzzy. Your words felt more like you again, much softer and kinder to him.Your kisses reached his neck with short licks in between, leaving him in a brain fog; how did you know how to do this? Kieran's hand reaches for your shoulder for support, finding it hard to hold himself up as time passes. Your hand speeds up,Your hand was the softest thing he had ever felt, second only to your kiss on his lips. It felt like he was rutting into a cloud with each twitch of his hips. Each whine and whimper caused his mouth to open slightly, allowing your tongue to slip in. The brush of his beard against your chin was faint. Your hand changed positions taking the head of his cock in your hand to concentrate more on the tip, bullying the much more sensitive area. It practically knocked the wind from his chest as his stomach tightened. “Please! Father (Name)! I can’t hold on much longer!” Your breath was light against his own; you were so collected, the lone thing keeping Kieran up.His face was one of pure bliss; only moans left his mouth as he spilled against your hand. His vision was blurry from tears, and he tried to take in the sight before stirring awake.He audibly groaned, looking at the scout fire, which was mostly out by now, and the sun had not touched the sky yet. Panting, Kieran sat up, embarrassed by such a dream at his age. Looking over the camp, he noticed Hosea and Dutch also awake. They were never up so early. He knew Charles Arthur and Javier had to go off on some mission very early, but they seemed much more restless than normal, and they began to head out.
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Dutch stood at the back of the crowded church, his gaze drifting through the sea of faces. The line for communion was quick, each second shorter than the last. In front of him, Molly stood with a slight sway to the organ's rhythm, her movements drawing his attention, though it didn't last as he couldn't quite understand why. He wasn't the religious type.He'd never felt the need for communion or the body and blood of Christ. So why was he here?But then the line inched forward, and with it, his pulse quickened. And there you were.You weren't entirely in focus at first—his mind flickering between the present you and the photo of you at 22 when a playful smirk had danced across your lips as you poured wine into Molly's mouth. What stayed with him the most was how your eyes never left his, even as you'd served her. The smoke from his cigar flowed from his lips into the air around him, the smoke not hotter than the gaze you had, pulling him in.He felt a jealous bubble in his chest as Molly bowed her head, whispering a small “Amen,” hands folded and walked away. Sure, the two haven’t shared a bed since Colter, but damn it, she was still his. Dutch was next, and your smile only got wider, eyes shifting.Closing your eyes when taking the wafer was customary, but your eyes stayed open. Dutch looked around, and everyone seemed to have their eyes closed, heads ducked in prayer, except for the two of you. Dutch took the cigar from his lips, holding it in his dominant hand.Dutch was reluctant to close his eyes, his heart pounding, squeezing them shut; he opened his mouth. He couldn't stand to look in your eyes any longer. The dry taste of the communion wafer touched his tongue, but his fingers stayed. Daring to open an eye, your face hovered inches away from Dutch.“No smoking in church, Mister Van Der Linde,” you whispered, eyes so deep pulling him in, rooting his legs to the spot.He couldn't move, not as your hand reached for a cigar or when the wafer had long dissolved, and the only thing he could taste was you.“If you need something between your lips that bad.” you purred, voice as smooth as silk as you took the cigar from his hand, bringing it to your lips.His eyes were stuck on you, hypnotizing. Nothing even existed beyond your lips around the cigar. Nothing else mattered as your lips parted and you sucked in the smoke, slow and deliberate. Letting the smoke linger in your mouth, and the woody flavors sink into your tongue.Your fingers pressed flat against his tongue, stroking the wet muscle as you blew the flavorful smoke in Dutch's face. “We can work out a deal.”He was caught in its haze, the sweet burning smell attacking each of his senses. But just under the familiar taste of the cigar was you, breathing in you. You were his air.Your fingers left his mouth, his tongue without him knowing it, had wrapped around your fingers, causing a small string of drool to follow.You placed the cigar back into his mouth before waving as the line continued. Dutch felt like he was wearing iron shoes, each step like a drag away from you. He sucked on the cigar a bit harsher as he sat back next to Molly, staring at her lap, which was toying with the thin pages of a Bible.He could taste you within the tobacco leaves. The more of you he could taste, the more his stomach tightened. The stiff wood made his back uncomfortable as he stirred.Their eyes shot open, and he slightly labored breathing as he sat up from his cot. Glancing over, Molly's sleeping figure was still. Dutch sighed and stepped out of the tent to look at the sky. It was so early the sun hadn’t even begun rising.Scanning the camp, he nodded to Hosea, who was awake and sitting on a nearby crate. He could see Kieran tossing in his sleep if he narrowed his eyes. But the sound of Charles Javier and Arthur packing for their trip stole his attention.Each man rubbed their eyes in exhaustion as they stood up from their crouching position, bidding Dutch a good morning as they made their way out of camp.
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Arthur lay there, staring at the stars, the weight of the rumors hangin' heavy on his chest. He knew deep down they weren’t true—couldn't be. He was the only one who'd ever talked to you like that, ever shared that kind of talk with you. And you’d told him, real clear-like, that you'd never done any of that before—unless you’d been pulling the wool over his eyes.But still, the damn rumors floated around like a smoke cloud. It gnawed at him, eating away at his peace of mind. It made him wonder if you were just trying to make yourself seem spotless and clean as a saint because of how you now held yourself. The thought twisted his stomach as he tried to get a few hours of sleep before heading out to find Sean.But Arthur was restless, tossing in his cot. The thought of you kept stirring in his head, messing with his focus. He knew rumors would be whispered about in camp; he had a few. But this time, it felt different; they weren’t talking about him, and his behavior changes were odd or concerning.They were about you, which made his blood boil in a way he hadn’t expected. You, of course, hadn’t seen Arthur, but he saw you. He’d seen you walk through town many times before he’d ever stepped foot into the church after Reverend practically pushed him through the door. He’d stare at you as you donated money to anyone asking, even if they looked like they’d spit on any dollar you handed. He’d never see you take the change when buying something unless it was shoved back into your hand.He even remembered laughing as you stood, keeping a door open for almost two minutes because people kept walking into the saloon. Maybe it wasn’t the rumors bothering him so much, but the idea that you’d want to hide things from him. That you might think he’d judge you for your past, for things you couldn’t change. He was the last person in the world who should judge you, and he would be the last to have a bad thing to say. Arthur did everything for survival, which eventually became a muddy reason for him, but you were trying to get through each day. The thought still couldn’t leave his mind; he needed to clear the air with you. Finally, look into your eyes and meet you. He’d have to do it soon. He wasn’t going to go back to Blackwater, risk his head coming off before you even got to see it.He got up from the cot; it had only been a few hours since he left the booth and bid you goodnight. If you were awake, he had no clue. The moonlight washed over his skin as he rode his horse to the church. The only people awake in Valentine were too drunk to see their own two feet as he hitched his horse and made his way up the steps.At the front of the church, you were kneeling at the steps, hands clasped, your rosary between your hands, eyes shut. You looked so serene, so… far away. Arthur stepped forward slowly, the same pace he’d use when hunting deer.You tensed up when you heard the footsteps, eyes flicking over to him as you rose. “Oh! Hello, Sir,” Your voice is soft and warm. “Is everything okay?” Your eyes were so delicate as you looked at him, cradling him with your eyes as you stayed a foot away from him, unsure how close to get. Arthur stood there for a long moment, staring at you, his jaw tight. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but firm. “Got a minute?”Your eyes went wide, and you held your hands to your chest. “I always do for you.” Arthur took a step closer, his boots stopping right before you. He could feel his hands shaking but forced himself to stay steady."I heard the whispers," he said, keeping his voice even though its edge was hard to ignore. "People talkin’ about you..."Your eyes fell. You didn’t flinch. But he saw the slightest shift, the way your shoulders tensed.You looked away, fingers tight around the fabric of your robes. “Arthur, I—”“No," he interrupted, his voice sharp now, almost desperate. "I ain't askin’ for explanations you ain't ready to give, but I need to know somethin'. I need to know where you stand 'cause all this—" He waved a hand at the town just behind him, at the rumors, at the whispers, at his frustration seeping through his skin—“ain’t sittin’ right with me.”You hesitated, and for a moment, Arthur thought you might turn away. But then you met his gaze, your eyes soft but heavy with something he couldn’t quite place.“I didn’t want this,” you said quietly, almost like a confession. “Didn’t want anyone thinkin’ that about me.” Your voice faltered, but you didn’t back down. “I never did anything wrong, but people in this rotten town don’t want the truth.”Arthur’s heart pounded. “What truth?” he asked, though he wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. He was a fool to be standing here, asking these questions, but there was no going back now.Your body sank, the weight of the world in your eyes. “I’ve dealt with some wretched men in this town, each and every one of them leaving the church with a black heart when I refused them.”Arthur couldn’t stand the distance between you anymore. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he placed it gently on your shoulder, grounding you, steadying you. "I never asked for this, Arthur. But it’s all I’ve known." your voice trembled, “These robes, these stories I grew up with. I gave up my freedom for this… life. It hardly started before it got ripped away from me.” You fell into Arthurs's arms, breathing unevenly as he held you up.The world around him began to crumble as he held your face to look at him. His thumb traced your jaw, and your skin was so soft against his hands. The only audible sound was the light popping from the many candles in the church. Arthur thought you could hear his heartbeat.He didn’t pull away, nor did you; his gaze lingered on your lips, drawn to them like a man desperate for water. He was so close now, close enough to feel your skin's warmth and hear your breathing. He hadn’t been this close to someone who needed him just as much as he needed them in years. How you looked at him—soft and with watery eyes—made him want to hold, protect, and kiss you.He couldn’t stop himself now. He had to know if you felt the same hunger he did. His breath mingled with yours, and he held your hips against his. The kiss was tender as your eyes fluttered shut. The ache in your body was unmistakable to him. When you leaned into him instead, Arthur’s chest tightened, and he deepened the kiss. His hand slid to the back of your neck, cradling you to him like he couldn’t get close enough.With a low groan, he swept you off your feet, your legs wrapped around his hips as he slowly placed your back against the worn seat of the wooden pew. His mind felt hazy with longing like he was melting into you. The skirt of your cassock rode up, and the pants you wore under were a thin fabric that left nothing to his imagination. A sliver of your stomach was visible, his rough hands immediately attached to the area, tracing his fingers across your warm skin.He'd never even seen your arms before, so this was not something he’d let slip away.Both of your hearts raced as he pressed his chest to yours. His fingers slipped under the fabric of your cassock, tracing up the line of your spine. “Arthur…” The way his name escaped your lips felt like worship; it sent a thrill through his body.His lips found your neck, warm and tender, he could feel your pulse under his teeth. Tilting your head, offering yourself to him fully. He sucked a mark into your neck, rolling his hips against yours, hands, and pulling up your cassock, leaving more of your torso exposed. The cool air against your body made you shiver as his lips met yours again without hesitation. He was urgent and desperate for you. Running your hands through his hair, his hat fell off, landing on the floor beside you both.His hands went back to your waist, tracing each bump and curve of your body, committing it to memory as if this would be the last time he ever held you. His fingers trailed down your stomach, and a soft gasp left you as he did, causing him to falter for just a moment.“Is this alright?” His voice was harsh but breathless, waiting for any indication that it was okay that you were okay. You nodded, unable to speak. Your hands pulled him back in for a kiss. He chuckled against your lips, teasing the button of your pants. Part of him wanted just to rip them off; the fabric was thin enough to get away with it.“Do you want this? Do you want this as much as I do?” You whined at Arthur’s words nodding quickly.Letting you go from both of his arms for just a second, he tore off your pants and quickly did the same with his own. Pressing hot kisses and bites across your stomach, Arthurs's head sunk to your ass, gently pressing around the rim of your ass with his tongue coaxing you tetween each press of his tongue. Arthur was falling apart trying to pace himself to not come just from your noises and thighs squeezing his head. He was surrounded by you in the best way he could imagine licking away at your hole, pleased noises leaving Arthur as if this was the best thing in the world.Arthur moved one of his hands down to grab your thigh, pushing it up to give his face better access, resting your knee over his shoulder Arthur snaked his tongue inside. Your cries only got louder and more desperate but nothing could pull Arthur away. Not even his cock leaking onto the pew, begging for attention.Arthurs pressed his tongue in deeper and moaned at the taste, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs which trembled at all the new sensations from Arthurs hands and tongue.“Arthur! I, I can't please!” Arthurs pace stayed the exact same, driving you crazy.Arthur's eyes squinted open, the cot he was on groaned at his movements as he went to sit up properly. Javier was just waking up as well. Charles turned onto his side stretching with a yawn. Arthur didn't have the time to break down such a weird dream. It all felt too real even if it made no sense.Boots thudding against the dirt ground he began to pack, Sean needed a rescue. The dream could take the back burner for the next few days. He bid Dutch and Hosea a good morning as he stuffed his satchel with bullets. It will be a long day.
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As Hosea stepped inside, he found the church empty. He had intended to ask something, but when he saw you leaning against the pulpit, your face intensely focused as you flipped through the Bible's pages, he forgot what he had come to ask.“Good evening, Mister Matthews! What brings you here?” The steel pen in your hand stopped writing as you stayed leaned over the wooden stand. Hosea scratched his chin, trying to remember.“Well, to be frank with you, Father (Name), I don’t quite remember!” you both laughed lightly. Hosea attempted to take his eyes off your hips and the curve of your back, but it was futile as you seemed to lean down even further.“You know what, Mister Matthews? I’ve been having some trouble! Could you follow me?” You pushed away from the pulpit and gestured toward a door down the hallway. He followed you as you spoke, “This drawer hasn’t been coming out fully. I think it’s jammed, but I’m unsure how to fix it!”As you opened the door, Hosea realized that this was your room—your sanctuary, with the smell of incense and you.“It’s this one here,” you said quietly, pointing to the lower drawer, your brow furrowed in concentration. You bent down to tug at the stubborn metal handles, and Hosea couldn’t help but watch, his eyes tracing the line of your back. He cleared his throat, his voice strained. “Uh-huh.” He felt his pants grow tighter, a warm flush creeping over him.Slipping off his coat, he draped it over your bed and crouched beside you, eager to help. The drawer was stubbornly jammed, resisting your efforts to pull it free. He’s never claimed to be good at fixing things, but he couldn’t deny your sweet face to at least try. After a few tries and a gentle adjustment of the wheels back onto the steel bearings, he finally managed to free it.With the drawer now open, you gestured toward the bed. “You’ve earned a seat,” you said, a mischievous glint in your eye. As Hosea sat down, you perched beside him, your legs brushing ever so slightly. You mentioned your bed frame, its robust and well-made design standing the test of time; after all these years, it had never cracked.You sat on the mattress, the soft fabric beneath you inviting and warm. As you wiggled the headboard with a playful grin, Hosea couldn’t help but admire how your eyes sparkled with mischief. His words slipped out before he could catch them, a teasing jab at the moment. “Well, of course, there’s no cracks or breaks; not like you’re doing anything to risk breaking it.”The shocked surprise on your face quickly morphed into a sulky pout, and Hosea found himself captivated. That expression was one he could never resist. “There are more things that can break a bed, Mister Matthews!” you retorted, your tone playful yet challenging. Slowly, he leaned closer, and so did you. Each beat of his heart was one inch of distance closing. “I think,” he said, his voice low and filled with intent, “there’s a lot more than just the bed that can be tested tonight.”the distance between you closed, and his lips found yours in a slow, tentative kiss. Testing the waters as your eyes fluttered shut. Your fingers brushed his jaw, tracing the roughness of his stubble. Hosea’s heart raced; he hadn’t been with anyone like this in a very long time. His thumb now grazing the curve of your cheek, committing the softness to memory.He could taste a faint sweetness in your breath as you pulled back just slightly, your eyes having a mischievous glint to them, “You truly are a charmer, Mister Matthews.” Hosea smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting, brushing any hair from your face. The scent of your incense lingered in the air as you leaned forward again. This kiss was more desperate as you pressed a hand against Hosea's chest, running a thumb against the fabric.Hosea felt every brush of your lips and your hand against his body. His hands slipped down to your chest, undoing the button of the caplet you occasionally wore with your cassock. The small fabric fell from your torso as he went for the stiff white collar you had. He wasn’t sure what it was called but carefully placed it on your bedside table. His nimble fingers made quick work of each button, and his lips trailed down your jaw to your neck, pressing kisses that made you whine against him. Your hands landed on his soft, silver hair, gently tugging at it. His ability to be fully present in the moment began to sway as every piece of clothing the two of you wore was shed.You were on top of him now; your warmth surrounded him, and he wasn’t sure how long he could last with each rock of your hips. Each moan and groan landed on deaf ears The soft glow from the candles in your room surrounded the space behind you, like a halo around your body. You were like an angel as the pressure in his body finally gave way.Taking a deep breath, Hosea sat up from his bedroll on the floor. The purple hues from the sky were still there as he woke up. Bill passed out nearby, snoring. Hosea got half-dressed before sitting on a nearby crate; he didn’t want to sit on the wet ground.He noticed Kieran twitch in his sleep before hearing a groan from Dutch nearby tent. The tent flap opened, and Dutch stepped out with a grunt and nodded toward Hosea.Arthur, Charles, and Javier all woke up at the same time, looking like they didn’t sleep a wink. Hosea grabbed a nearby book, pretending to read the pages as he reflected on his dream momentarily. Clearing his throat, he attempted actually to read.
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Javier’s feet ached as he made his way through the quaint town, the dirt roads reflecting a light he felt he should recognize, yet he was sure he had never been here before. The soft chatter of townsfolk and the distant laughter of children playing filled the air, but the sounds felt distant, like echoes from a world he once knew but could not recall.As he climbed the gentle incline towards a church perched on the hill, a sense of familiarity washed over him, stirring something deep within. Tall and proud, the church stood with its weathered stones and sun-kissed spire. That's when he saw you. The usual modest long sleeve and skirt you wore were now replaced with short sleeves and fitting slacks. Your hands were covered in gardening gloves as you tended to a bed of flowers.Javier's mind began to untangle memories. Growing up in Mexico, the church played a pivotal role in the fabric of life for most families. Yet, a shadow loomed over his nostalgia, for the beginnings of that connection were marred by hardship and plenty of loss.He had often considered the life he was forced to abandon, the severed family ties, and the unfulfilled dreams. Each day carried the weight of that sacrifice, a reminder of everything he had left behind and the bittersweet memories that haunted him. Even now, as he stood before the church, his heart ached.“Hola, Father.” Javier adjusted the sack on his back, leaning on his hip.“Good morning, Mister Escuella! I'm surprised you're back so soon. You must tell me about your adventures!” You rested your gloved hands against your knees, smiling up at Javier.Your dark outfit looked stunning against the white clover flowers surrounding you in the grass.“It seems no matter how far I go, I'm always led back to you, Father (Name),” Javier purred, glancing at the red flowers you had planted in the flower bed before you.He fidgeted with the strap of his bag, hoping you didn’t notice how uncomfortable he felt. Truth be told, he worked hard to sell the idea of being a romantic, hoping that he might start to believe it himself. Your arms flexed as you adjusted the flower bed to be more in the sunlight. Javier licked his lips at the sight. Your skin was always so covered that he never had the opportunity to see your body.Your smile warmed his heart; perhaps he was beginning to believe it. You took off your gloves, leaving them on the church's porch.“Well! Let’s head inside; I’m sure you’re just exhausted!” You cooed at Javier, placing your hand on his lower back and leading him inside. Once the heavy doors shut behind the two of you, Javier pulled you into his chest, dropping his bag to the ground. His hands tilted your head as he pressed a desperate kiss to your lips. Your lips were much softer against his. Not a single piece of dried skin tainted them.You softly gasped as his hand landed on your ass. Holding the fat in his hand, messaging it. “This. This keeps me coming back…guapo~” he spoke against your lips; your whine was like music to his ears at his words. He could feel your hard dick against his thigh; his hand let go of your face tracing the head of your cock with his fingers, “This too, dios mio, I can’t forget it.”“Javi, we can’t do this here!” Your voice fell on deaf ears.You were overly sensitive to every touch he gave you, hips bucking into his hand as you both stumbled to the floor. Javier places his hat on your head before straddling your lap. Javier couldn’t remember taking your pants off or even his own, but you filled him so nicely that he honestly didn’t even care how it happened. You were lucky the church was empty; for your sake, even if a few other church members were wandering around, he’s not sure anything would’ve changed with how intensely he was riding you. Such a stuffy place could use a good show. And who better to put on a show than one of the leading members?Javier huffed your hands held onto his hips, the tips of your fingers pressed into the skin, trying to slow the pace of his hips down, but he just couldn’t get enough of your desperate cries. Javier knew he couldn’t last despite the movements you constantly brushed against every sensitive spot in his body. He loved how you looked with his hat on; it was like staking his claim on you, other than the obvious.He grabbed one of your arms, kissing the palm of your hand down your arm. The hair of his mustache scratched against your arm, but any new sensations felt so good that you didn’t mind. Javier's body trembled as he pressed his lips to your arm, his eyes squeezed shut. Every ache in his body was gone for a moment.Javier's body felt hot, way too hot, as his body sat up. White sleep shirt, much lower than it was when he put it on the night before. The fire he slept by next to Charles was much stronger than it usually was in the morning. He and Charles caught eyes for a moment, if Charles looked like death, Javier was sure he was in the same boat. He heard Arthuts boots against the ground and began to pack, he had to pick up Trelawny to scope out the scene and was not excited for the non-stop conversation that was bound to happen on the ride to black water.
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The crunch of the rocks under Charles's boots alerted your resting figure. Since his hand healed, he decided to get back into hunting to donate the meat to either you or Pearson when he was finished. He had skin and gathered the meat from a few deers, which he kept on his horse; he wasn’t sure what you were doing here. It’s a bit of a ride from Valentine here, but he wasn’t upset to see you sooner than planned.“I’ve been waiting here for you, Mister Smith. I just couldn't stop thinking about you!” He finally noticed your body position: you were on all fours, your back slightly arched.“What’s uh going on, Father (Name)?” you looked over your shoulder, maintaining eye contact with Charles. “What? I can’t say hi to you on my own…Special way, Mister Smith?” he couldn’t tell if this was some sort of joke if you were pulling his leg trying to make him laugh or what, but he also didn’t want just to brush this away because he was nervous.Charles felt like an animal huffing over your shaking body, his chest pressed against your back; your arms were shaking, seeming like they were about to give out from under you. His thrusts weren’t harsh. They were pretty even, but even then, each thrust felt like pushing each thought from your brain. Your body fell against the lush grass on the ground, Charles following suit. Charles was no small man in any sense of the word. And he didn’t want to hurt you even if you were offering yourself to him.His head rested just behind yours, breathing against the back of your neck, inhaling the smell of your hair as he rutted between your plush thighs, his hard-on brushing against yours with each rutt of his hips. His lips kissed the nape of your neck; he could feel your hand begin to stroke yourself, your hand grazing over his cock when it was near. He felt like a predator who successfully caught his prey, your whines high-pitched, like cries. Fucking you out in the open, anyone could walk by. God forbid someone gets curious to check on the noise.But Charles was starting to lose all of his sense on top of you; the precum from his thrusting lubed up your thighs, making a slick, wet noise. He lightly bit the nape of your neck, causing your body to keen into his. His hands held your hips, moving your entire body back and forth to thrust you back and forth on his cock. You were reduced to just a moaning mess, and a guilty part of him reveled in seeing you so dependent on him even to hold you together. With a groan, Charles bit down a little harder. His eyes opened, seeing Javier sitting up, already looking at Charles. It was the sight he usually woke up to, but Javier looked rough, as if he had hardly slept.Charles felt strained, his hard-on not gone down at all as he began to wake up fully at the sounds of Arthur packing. With a grunt, he sat up, taking in the sight of the camp before beginning to pack himself. He felt lucky to have slightly baggy pants, giving himself some decency and saving himself from potential stares and odd conversations.
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The morning sun painted the town in warm hues. The men had to stop by Valentine to pick up Trelawny from the general store. Each man couldn’t help but glance at the church as they dismounted their horses.The sun was like a halo around the building. There was a slight movement inside the church; one of the curtains swayed. They assumed it was your room, though they had no way of knowing for sure. It was just a nice thought.The shopkeeper greeted them, outlining the available sales and wishing them a good morning. Charles grabbed a cup of coffee while Javier picked up a bread roll and a pack of cigarettes.Arthur decided to buy a bottle of snake oil, a health tonic, but another bottle caught his eye. Sitting in the corner of the shop was a bottle, and though he usually didn’t pay much attention to such things, today was different. He picked it up, its soft pink label catching the light. Philter tonic, it read, something for men to ‘get things done.’ It was strange, but something inside him clicked. Without thinking, he tucked it into his satchel. It wasn’t until later that he realized it had very little to do with stamina and a great deal with his feelings.sA voice caught their attention as they returned to their horses: “Mister Smith, Mister Escuella!” Each man looked over and saw you with a market bag by the butcher.“Good morning to you both!” you called cheerfully, though it sounded like you were trying to keep your voice light. “Will you join me for breakfast?” While your voice was cheerful. Arthur didn’t speak, his attention turning to his horse, which suddenly needed brushing.Remembering his dream, he wanted to turn around and say hello and adequately introduce himself, but something held him back. You were such a sight for his eyes; he felt like a schoolboy and nervous.Javier, ever the charmer, was the first to speak. “Ah, Buenos dias, Father (Name). No, we can’t join you today. We’ve got business to attend to.”Your smile faltered, just for a moment, and you sighed. “Oh, I see. I wish I’d known! I would’ve made you a snack for the road.”Charles waved his hand dismissively, insisting there was no need, but you wouldn’t hear it. “Nonsense! I enjoy providing.” You said this with such warmth that each man got a lovely treat from you for the road.“Good morning, Father! What brings you to chat with these three degenerates?” Trelawny laughed as he placed his items into his horse's saddle. Your face showed confusion as Arthur silently cursed at Trelawny.You laughed softly, but there was no real humor behind it. “These fine men join me for church meals,” you explained. “I try to provide meals twice daily for those passing through or in need. Tonight, I’m planning a peach pie for dessert.” You held up your market bag, showing the small bounty inside. “As for the third, I’m not sure who you mean!” Your shoulders shrugged, glancing around for who the third person could have been.“Why, I mean Valentine's greatest bounty hunter!” bounty hunter? The man stood behind Javier, and Charles finally turned around with a sigh. Holding out his hand for you to shake. You introduced yourself,“Hello! I’m Father (Name)! It’s nice to meet you!” Your hand was warm and soft against Arthurs's harsher, calloused hand. The man was silent; you assumed he was shy. Such a big man being shy was a little funny to you; as you took in his features, he finally spoke, “It’s good to see you, Father (Name).”Your heart caught in your throat at the sound of his voice. Arthur. You had heard so much about him, felt the weight of his presence even through the veil of the confessional, but this—this was real. You held his hand a moment longer than necessary before withdrawing it, but your fingers still tingled from the contact.“Well,” you breathed, your voice suddenly soft. “It’s good to see you again, Mister Morgan. I wish you all a good day. Be safe out there. You all know where to find me if you ever need anything!”The words rushed out, and before you even realized it, you were turning away, your cheeks flushed as you hurried back toward the church. Alarm bells went off in Charles and Javier's minds. Arthur had never joined them at your meals. What did you mean again?Arthur stayed silent, his eyes still on the church, even as Trelawny made a joke about the odd folk of Valentine before jumping on his horse. Arthur huffed, getting on his horse and trying to ignore the prying eyes of Javier and Charles. There were bigger things to worry about than how the two of you knew each other, like not dying in Blackwater.You almost tripped up the stairs to the church; you couldn’t have been more awkward when finally being faced with the man who seemed to have infected you with homosexual ideations. Such a handsome man had been sitting with you in the dark and in private, teasing you. The same flutter returned to your stomach as you set everything on the kitchen counter. You must calm down before having sweet Kieran with you, probably the two of you alone. Thinking of that soft-eyed man only made your stomach flutter more. He was so eager to be there and help you.You started cooking, wanting to do something simple to keep yourself occupied. Kieran had joined halfway through, letting you know the Dutch wanted you to visit their camp come sunset. Kieran seemed shy, keeping his distance but still wanting to be close enough to speak to you. When you served him a plate of hashbrowns and eggs, he scarfed it down with the same speed you had always seen him use.Kieran initially seemed hesitant, lingering a few steps away, but his eyes betrayed a desire to be near. When you served him a steaming plate of hashbrowns and eggs, he dove into the meal with an eagerness that reminded you of a long-starved animal. He ate quickly, each bite disappearing almost as soon as it touched his plate.“Kieran, dear boy, you know you don’t have to eat so fast, right? I won't take it away, I promise!” you chuckled, trying to ease the tension in the room. Kieran paused mid-bite, scratching his beard awkwardly, revealing his nervousness."I know! I, uh, I just haven’t had food for a while! And yours is so good, it tastes like home cooking!" His voice carried a hint of wonder, as if he couldn't believe this meal was indeed for him.You reached out, your hand hovering near him in a gentle gesture. He flinched slightly, instinctively retreating before relaxing as he realized you meant no harm. Softly, you stepped closer and wrapped him in a side hug, trying to offer comfort and reassurance.“Aw, I’m sorry, Mister Duffy! Since it's just the two of us here, you can have all the food you want; how about that?” You smiled at him, feeling the warmth in your heart as his eyes lit up like stars against the backdrop of the kitchen's warm glow.“Could you keep calling me Kieran? I quite like it.” His voice was softer, almost hopeful. You laughed gently in response. “Of course I can, Kieran. Kieran. Now, let me start some more eggs for you.” The playful repetition of his name hung in the air as you stepped back to the stove to continue cooking.He had about three more plates before finally full and seemingly tired. “Ah, Kieran, why don’t you have a nap? You can use my bed for a few hours; I'll still be here just cleaning up and preparing for dinner.” Kieran was much less shy while sleepy, as he agreed, taking off his black jacket and practically passing out once his head hit your pillow and your blanket surrounded him.You left your room to start on the pie; it would now be a gift for Dutch and Hosea. You weren’t sure what Dutch needed you for, but you were raised never to go to people living empty-handed.Kieran was in heaven practically. Surrounded by your smell and in a real bed after months of sleeping on harsh ground or in awful weather. He had no idea how to thank you when he’d wake, apart from wanting to be in your bed forever and not to give in sleep so he could keep enjoying the hug of you around him.______As they headed toward Blackwater, Javier’s mind wandered back to the church. The way you smiled at him that morning, that delicate look of kindness, and that softness in your eyes. He hadn’t missed how Arthur’s attention had been fixed on you, either, how he seemed to be drawn to you in a way that was hard to ignore. Javier had always been able to read people, and he knew Arthur well enough to see that there was more to that long handshake.“Think he’s been seeing Father this whole time?” Javier asked, his voice low but teasing, his eyes watching Arthur ride ahead.Charles, riding next to him, glanced over. “Arthur? He’s been acting funny ever since we came to Valentine. But don’t expect him to admit it. I don't know what it is about that church and him.”Javier gave a knowing smile. “Oh, I don’t know… I think I see it enough. What about you, Charles?”Charles looked away quickly, trying to hide the flush creeping into his cheeks. He wasn’t one to talk about these things; it was too troublesome, but the more time he spent with Father (Name), the more he felt that same unsettling warmth stirs inside him. He wasn’t sure if it was how you treated him, so kind and attentive, or simply the pull of your presence. Either way, it made him uneasy—and yet, he couldn’t seem to shake it.“I don’t know what you mean,” Charles replied, his voice gruff. “But maybe Arthur and I aren’t the only ones who feel it.” Javier shot him a sideways glance, his smile curling at the edges. “Oh? You, too, huh? I thought you might be the type to keep your distance, but you might be more like me than you let on.”Charles gave him a sharp look, but Arthur called back over his shoulder before he could respond.“Quiet down, you two,” Arthur grumbled. “We’ve gotwork to do.”Javier chuckled but didn’t discuss the matter further, knowing that despite their teasing, something more profound was taking root in their little group. As they rode through the landscape, maybe the others felt it as well. Javier didn’t mind competition at all, or even teammates, for that matter.__________The smell of peaches and cinnamon filled the church. After another half hour in the oven, you would take the pie out to cool properly. But for now, you have a new task at hand. The door to your room creaked softly as you checked on Kieran, who snored softly as you entered. You noticed the holes in Kieran's jacket and wanted to mend them as a surprise. With your needle ready, you took his coat in your hands and settled into the rocking chair you kept in your room. You rarely used it, being so busy running around, but lately, Father Gavin and the Sisters had taken on more work, lightening your load.As you began to sew, the gentle rocking of the chair faded from your mind. Numerous tiny tears in the jacket along the back and elbows indicated that Kieran had greatly cherished it. Once the jacket was finally finished, you snuck out of the room, careful not to wake the poor man; he seemed to need the rest. Fresh from the oven, the pie smelled even better than you had hoped. Setting it on the counter, you felt a wave of tiredness wash over you.Finding tasks was more exhausting than simply checking off items from a list.You reentered your room. Your bed was big enough for the two of you, but it felt very forward. What if you joined Kieran, and he saw it as an insult? What if he went off and told the entire town that the Priest was a pervert? The thought shook you to your core.Fearing the possibility, you approached the bed, glancing at Kieran's sleeping face and gently shaking him awake. Kieran's eyes were half-lidded as he complained about being woken up. "Kieran, I’m getting exhausted, too. Would you mind if I joined you?” Your heart raced as his eyes widened. "Of course not! It’s your bed after all, please—" Lifting the blanket, Kieran invited you in.You could feel your face flushing now, the reality of sharing a bed setting in more and more. You hadn’t shared a bed with anyone since childhood and would beg your mom or dad to let you sleep with them after a nightmare.Sliding in next to Kieran, you could feel how warm the man was, which made you even more tired. Subconsciously backing into his body as you drifted to sleep, Kieran felt very awake now, not realizing what he had agreed to.You were flush against him, and Kieran was mortified that you could feel his shaking. But your breathing slowed down, and hesitantly, Kieran wrapped an arm around you. His hand rests against your chest, feeling your heartbeat. His face is pressed in your hair, breathing in the smell.He felt like a pervert, but what other time could he be this close to you? When else could he be in your bed WITH you after being fed a full meal?It was like he was still dreaming.Kieran remained awake for the next hour as the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue across the room. He held you close, feeling your chest's gentle rise and fall as you breathed peacefully beside him. He found comfort in the rhythmic sound of your breath.Kieran stretched his arm out his hand moving to your shoulder shaking you awake. You groaned, rubbing your eyes as they took in the sight of a sun kissed Kieran.He looked very handsome in the soft light. Shaking the thought from your head the two of you sat up. Not really wanting to leave the warmth of the bed, but Dutch had asked for you so you needed to show.Slipping your shoes back on, unhitched your horses and made your way to this camp, peach pie in hand.Stepping into the campground, you were greeted by the number of tents and cases of whiskey and beer.You held out the pie you made to Dutch as he greeted you. “Now, what's this?” he asked, admiring the braided crust you had made.“I made peach pie! I didn't want to come empty-handed!” You smiled very nervously, wondering why Dutch needed to speak with you at all.“My that's very sweet of you! Please set it down there; I've been meaning to ask something of you.” Kieran was pulled away from your side by Mary-Beth and sent you an apologetic look.In your nerves, you didn't hear the sound of horses pulling into camp. Or the wolf whistle aimed at you when you leaned over the long table to place the pie down in the middle. Cursing yourself for forgetting cutting tools and maybe even a plate. What you did notice was the harsh smack on your ass. You yelped, and a loud voice behind you spoke.“What's this?! For my return, you've all gotten Ol’ MacGuire a lady for the night!” your head whipped around to see just in time as he pulled this new man back by his collar by Arthur.“That's a damn priest, you moron!” Arthur growls, yanking the man to the side as the sting in your ass begins to fade. Trying to maintain your composure.“What sorta god gives a lad such an ass?!” The man's face was pale in horror as he finally realized you weren't a woman in a dress but a man in a priest's garb. Javier had a slight grin, and Charles walked over, “That's Sean MacGuire; I'm sorry about that…”“It’s uh okay! Just wasn’t ready for that.” You tried to laugh it off, but his words stuck to your mind. Was it a compliment to have a good ass? What even made a good ass in the first place? Your hand went to rub the dull ache.Your thoughts stopped as Dutch directed you to hear a speech by Sean.“Mr.MacGuire is back, everyone! Let’s have ourselves a party!” There were a few cheers as the man stood on a soap box, already swaying.“Uncle Sean is back! Don’t you worry, Mrs. Grimshaw. I’ll keep the girls in line. If I have to whip them, I will!” A few of the girls yelled back, and the older woman you assumed was Grimshaw yelled, ‘Someone has too!’Slowly you felt Dutch rest his hand on the small of your back. You tried to think nothing of it, surely in front of 20 odd people Dutch wouldn’t attempt to follow in Sean’s footsteps of the assaulting of your ass.“And don’t you worry Mr Pearson you drunk ol’ shit bag it’ll be nothing but the FINEST! game in the pot now dead eye MacGuire is back!” You heard a few chuckles as Sean did a slight shooting motion. In Dutch’s laughter he pulled you closer at the waist. No one else was paying attention but it felt like at any moment one of the women in front of you could turn and see just how close Dutch was holding you.“And don’t worry about nothing mrs. Grimshaw we will have this running like clockwork I love you bastards have fun…Have lots of fun!”Sean stepped off of the box taking a step to Arthur “Even you you grumpy old bastard Arthur!” Arthur shook his head. Dutch’s arm slid away from your waist slowly very deliberately as he grabbed your shoulder to face him, “would you like to join the festivities? Plenty of room for one more.”“Sure! I hate to say I really don’t drink much though, but I’m sure I can find something to do!” Dutch smiled, turning away to put on music from his gramophone.
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“Do you know how to dance, Father (Name)?” Mary-Beth asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity as she stood at the entrance of Dutch’s tent. The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow around her, highlighting the excitement etched across her features.With a grin, you extended your hand toward her. “I know enough to seem impressive,” you replied, your voice light and playful. A soft giggle escaped her lips as she took your hand. Slightly bowing together, you began to sway rhythmically beneath the tent's shade. With each movement, you added small, flamboyant spins and twirls that elicited more laughter from her, making her smile even brighter.Mary-Beth touched your shoulder before saying, “It seems like someone else wants a dance.” You spun Mary-Beth to peak at who she was referring to. From the corner of your eye, you could see Arthur. Who was looking down at his boots and trying to hide that his eyes were staring at the two of you?”Oh! Well, I’ll let you go to dance with him!” Mary-Beth rolled her eyes, and as you bowed, she whispered, “No! He wants to dance with you, and he’s just too. Shy!” Mary-Beth stepped away and held her hand out to offer you. Your face flushed as Arthur cleared his throat behind you. He took your hand, and you felt breathless, “Is this okay?” For two men to be so close, for two men to slow dance, especially in front of others.His hand rested on your waist. “You think this is the worst thing this group of fellas has seen?” Your hand rested on his shoulder with a sigh. A bit of relief washed over you as you swayed to the music. But you were still tense. While these men may not stone you, God could still see you. He could see your flushed face at a simple dance.Your hand intertwined with Arthurs. Your skin felt hot, and the sway with Mary Beth felt much smoother. But your anxiety keeps you stiff. Arthur was much closer as well, feeling the brush of his stomach against yours; you could feel his belt buckle press into you.Your mind swirled faster than you could process; he was so close, so very close. Memories of your conversations began flooding back into your mind. You longed to hold Arthur, to look into his eyes that had witnessed horrors beyond your lifetime. You felt giddy now that he was there, lightly twirling you to the music.You glanced at Dutch, dancing with a redheaded woman, giggling and smiling. You sighed, relieved. With Arthur’s comment, this must mean Dutch is just exceptionally...sociable! Arthur dipped you, causing you to laugh.As the music swelled around you, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you. Arthur’s grip tightened slightly as he pulled you closer, his face drawing near. You could see the playful glimmer in his eyes.Arthur’s lips curled into a gentle smile, and the world around you felt still momentarily. “Maybe we can find a place where we can be alone,” his tone earnest. As the promise hung between you, you felt nervous all over again. Alone, and then what? What did the two of you want so badly, but it could only happen alone?
“Just relax,” he murmured, his breath brushing against your ear. You nodded, forcing yourself to let go of the tension that had been building. His confident yet tender movement made your heartbeat quicken. Each twirl and sway felt like some sort of storybook.You felt his hand slip slightly lower on your waist, grounding you. Something was intoxicating about being so near him, the heat from his body mingling with the late afternoon sun that bathed you both in its golden light. With every dip and turn, it felt as though God had conspired to give you just this moment.“Who’s this Arthur?” The voice was harsh and raspy“This is Father (Name), John. It's great to see you back up and moving, Marston.” You stopped dancing but still held each other as you looked at John. The man stood sideways, a bottle in his hand. His eyes scanned your body. You noticed the deep scar on his face; it looked fresh, still pink and red.
“Are you that whorish priest everyone was talking about?”“Whore?! What on earth are you talking about?” Arthur released you, grabbing John by the arm and leading him toward the edge of the camp near the cliff. Whore? Is that why you were wanted here? Your throat began to burn as you glanced around the camp. Sean's comment echoed in your mind—arthurs suggestion about being alone together.
A few people glanced in your direction as you turned to the horses. You spotted Hosea reading by the light of a lantern next to a crate of bottles. You didn’t want to use the whiskey for comfort; that felt wrong. However, your embarrassment took over, and you grabbed one of the tan glass bottles. Hosea looked up and greeted you with a friendly hello.“Hi, Mister Matthews. Please excuse me,” you stammered as you walked toward the horses. Kieran was brushing your horse's mane, smiling until he noticed your anger.
“Father, is everything okay?” His voice was filled with concern.“I’m just fine, Mister Duffy; if you please, I must leave.” Kieran winced at your use of his last name, and you paused, not wanting to take your frustration out on him.
The rumors about you being a "floozy priest" weren’t new. Tales began to spread when you started working in Valentine and meeting people. Being so young and new to a cattle town didn’t earn you much respect. People were eager to judge, especially when you were just trying to do your job—feeding the hungry and providing clothes and blankets to those in need.But you did it all privately.That privacy started the rumors. So, you focused more on community-based helping. They were kept in the confessional booth if things had to remain secret.
“Is that what you folks think of me? Am I just some whore for you to laugh at?” Kieran's eyes went wide, and his hands tightened around your saddle.“No! No, no, of course not! Who told you such a thing?” You tore the lid off the whiskey bottle. It tasted like caramel and honey but burned your throat as you took a gulp.
You caught sight of John and Arthur walking back toward you, their silhouettes becoming clearer against the lowering sun. Arthur, sounding exasperated, said, “Father (Name), this fool is drunk and duller than rust. Don’t take his words to heart, please.”You coughed roughly, the burn in your throat intensifying as you processed Arthur's words. “Words always start somewhere, Mister Morgan,” you replied, trying to mask the discomfort welling up in your chest.Kieran shifted his weight, noticing your unease. He’d never seen you mad or annoyed, nor had anyone else. Just as you began to mount the saddle, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pausing your ascent. You felt the solid strength of his grip for someone who looked like he might fly away in the wind—he was surprisingly strong.“Honest, Father (Name), we don’t think of you as a whore! We know you’re a good man! A great man, please!” You groaned as Arthur pulled you down. Feet back on the ground, you noticed John, still drunk, staring at the sky to avoid eye contact. Arthur hit the man’s shoulder. “Look, Father (Name). I’m sure you’re not a whore. Rumors are the devil…and what have you.”You rolled your eyes. Sure, the words “I’m sorry” didn’t leave his lips, but you assumed this was the best you would get. The large gulp of whiskey began to warm you to your core. A fool's words are worth less than half your thoughts if he truly is a fool. “Bah. I suppose I’ll take it. You’re forgiven, Mister Marston. Just watch yourself from now on. I wanna be away from you right now.” Your mind started to wander as you walked back into camp and heard a soft strumming. Accompanying it was a voice you knew all too well, singing in Spanish.
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"Angel de amor, no comprendo tu pasión." (Angel of love, I don't understand your passion.) You turned the corner and saw Javier sitting with a very disinterested Tilly. However, Tilly perked up at your sight and waved her hand to call you over. You took the spot where Tilly had been sitting as she stood up. “I’ve been needing to use the restroom for the last half hour, but I didn’t want to be rude!” she whispered before scampering away, leaving you comfortable on the carpet.Javier's strumming continued: “Si la comprendo, no la puedo expresar.” (If I understand it, I cannot express it.)You vaguely understood as he sang, trying to drown out the singing from the large fire across the camp.“Voy a esconder, tu lánguido gemido alla en la tumba para poder descansar.” (I’m going to hide your weak moan there in the grave so I can rest.) You were mindful to keep the bottle in your hand and limit yourself from just sipping from now on. But the drink still burned as it went down, causing you to groan.“Yo no siento el que me hayas querido.” (I no longer feel that you love me) Javier's eyes were closed as he sang, “Yo no siento el que me hayas amado.” (I no longer feel that I was once beloved)“Solo siento que me hayas combiado hombre mama inferior que yo.” (I’m sorry you changed me into a man inferior to who I am) Javier held the note, singing the rest of the song much softer as it ended. You hummed, “What a sad song, Javier. It’s beautiful, though.” You held out the bottle of whiskey, and a look of surprise took over his face.”I thought men like you weren't allowed to indulge Father (Name). You said you don’t even like people who drink.” He took the bottle from your hand and stared intensely at the lip of the bottle.“Yeah, well, sometimes you gotta be a fool and repent the next day.” You felt so warm as Javier took a slow drink from the bottle. “Plus, I don’t hate people that drink. It’s just a vice that makes men the most stupid.”Your eyes were focused on his lips wrapped around the bottle. Was he savoring the taste? It was sweet, but the burn overwhelmed the flavor before it settled. Finally handing the bottle back to you, Javier grinned, “I’m trying to taste more than just the whiskey, Father (Name).”Your mind went blank trying to process what he said. But he began to strum again, this time with a much more upbeat rhythm. “Besame, besame mucho.” (Kiss me, kiss me a lot). You swirled the bottle in your hand, feeling the weight of the liquid shift in the bottle.“Como. si fuera esta noche la ultima vez” (as if tonight was the last night)”Besame besame mucho.Que tengo miedo a perderte, perderte despues.” (I’m afraid of losing, losing you later.)His gaze met yours, steady and unwavering. You took another sip from the bottle in the same spot Javier had taken his sip.”quiero tenerte muy cerca. Mirarme en tus ojos, estar junto ati.” (I want to have you very close. Look into your eyes and be next to you) You leaned on your hand, watching Javier leaning closer, still playing. The song made less and less sense, and your mind could not keep up and translate what little you would understand sober. Was whiskey supposed to be this strong?”Piensa que tal vez mañana. Estaré muy lejos, muy lejos de aquí.” (I’m thinking tomorrow we can be very, very far from here.) Javier was very close, and the smell of the whiskey was strong on both of your breaths. “I’m not sure if I should be so close to you, Father…” his tone teased as you realized just how alone the two of you were. No one was walking by but a very drunk Karen whose mission was not to watch the two of you.The strumming had stopped; you two were very close. Javier closed his eyes for a second, collecting himself. Your noses touched; you didn’t want to fight it anymore.
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“Father (Name)! I want to talk to ya!” you pulled away with a gasp, feeling your heart pound in your chest. Javier let out a low groan, taking the hat off of his head and running his hands through his hair. He was frustrated but trying to keep himself composed. “Sean… you couldn’t have waited? We are in the middle of something important.” Sean stood with a hand on his hip, slightly swaying.“Yeah, yeah, I know. Just let me get a word in, eh? It’s not tha best time, but I gotta clear the air here, Father. Do ya mind?” Not waiting for a response, Sean grabbed your arm, guiding you away from Javier. You dusted off the skirt of your cassock, trying not to glance back at Javier's longing eyes. Sean took you near the horses just past the fence into the wooded area. Your body still tingled from the closeness you just had with Javier.“Look, Father (Name); I just want ta say sorry for smacking you on tha arse. Honest to god, I thought you were a lass to accompany me for the night!” a nervous grin spread across his face. “I didn’t mean ta come off all brash.” there was still sway in Sean's stance, but much less than earlier. Sean held out the whiskey bottle he was drinking and held it to your lips, tilting it for you.“It was an honest mistake, Mister Macguire! I was more surprised you commented on it at all.” You laughed as Sean's face held a confused expression. “I mean, you can’t much tell cause of da skirt, but” his hands reached for the loose cloth, handing you the half-full whiskey bottle.He pulled the fabric forward, your body flush against him as the skirt now did nothing to hide your ass. That was some sort of marvel to behold. Sean's head was over your shoulder, staring. “Ah! Now, would ya look at that! Magnificent! Like tha peaks of the Derryveagh!”Perhaps you were some whore, because instead of breaking away, you only yelped at the exposure. “Is.. is that good?”“You’re damn right. It's good! Please allow me.” You weren’t sure why Sean would ask permission but did what he wanted anyway, but there was no point bringing it up now as his hands groped your ass.“Much more than a handful; this is what any man dreams of! If ya start showing off more, I think more people would stop by for Sunday service!” Sean howled with laughter, still holding your ass. You could feel Sean’s hard-on pressed into your thigh. Close contact with a man you didn’t know beyond his name felt much more manageable on your nerves than your almost kiss with Javier.“That’ll get ya warmed up for ol’ Javier; I tell ya, I’m a bit jealous whoever gets the peak at ya first! Unless you’re willing to wait for Mr.Macguire.” You whined at his words; no one other than Arthur had been this close to you physically or spoke to you like this before. His hands mushed the fat on your ass one last time before letting go and stumbling back to camp, talking to himself about Macguire Junior not being ready for all that.Your breathing came out in huffs. Taking the momentary alone time to breathe. The cold air hardly phased you. The whiskey is in full swing, keeping you warm and fuzzy.“Hey there.” You leaped a foot in the air. Charles emerged from outside of the camp, holding a rifle in his hands.“Mister Smith! We must stop meeting like this.” your heart pounded. Charles laughed lightly, moving closer. “Why aren’t you at the party? They have you on patrol duty?” You adjusted your skirt; Sean left it very wrinkled with his grabbing.“No, I just leave the parting to the professionals.” Charles rested the gun, the barrel aimed at the ground. You hummed softly to yourself, your gaze fixed on the vibrant tapestry of trees surrounding you.Suddenly, a flash of movement caught your eye—a small rabbit darting through the underbrush, desperate to escape the sharp pursuit of a fox. You felt a pang of sympathy for the vulnerable creature. “Aww, poor thing,” you murmured, shaking your head.Standing beside you, Charles chuckled lightly, his voice laced with an edge. “Looks familiar,” he remarked, a knowing glint in his dark eyes.You couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh, shaking your head slightly. “I’m not sure what you mean, Mister Smith,” you replied, meeting his gaze.Charles took a deep breath, the sound almost reverberating in the stillness of the forest. You leaned against a tree, crickets chirping as you revealed in the calm.“I tried the pie you made; it was great. I have never had one like it before.” Before you could stop, a big smile took over your face.“That makes me very happy to hear about Mister Smith. I spent a lot of the day working on it!”Charles inched closer, the subtle heat of his presence sending a thrill down your spine. “Oh, I could tell,” he said, his words sliding smoothly into your ear like a secret. “The crust was perfect, but what really got to me…” He let his arm brush against yours, just the slightest touch, but it was enough to send a shiver through you. “I could taste you in it.”A surge of warmth bloomed in your chest, spreading like wildfire. Goosebumps danced across your skin, your pulse quickening. The words you had once playfully spoken to Javier echoed back in your mind, uncomfortably vivid.“I’m sure that pie tastes much better than me,” you laughed nervously, but the sound was shaky, vulnerable. “I probably just taste like skin and sweat.”And sin, you thought, the word lingering on your tongue, burning in your chest. If there was a test of your devotion, you knew right then you had failed it, miserably. The temptation was overwhelming, and you could feel it, as undeniably palpable as the heat rising between you.Charles reached out, cupping your face, and you happily leaned into his strong hand. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Maybe when you’re sober, we’ll have this conversation, rather (Name). I want you to remember.” These were the most words you’ve heard Charles speak since meeting him. Your eyes studied his face. You couldn’t tell by his face alone, but he was nervous.“I’ll be much too nervous without the whiskey, Mister Smith. You’re much too handsome.” Your speech was more slurred than you would’ve liked.He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and his other hand toys with the gun barrel to keep busy.You stood up, no longer leaning against the tree for support. You realized Sean’s bottle was still in your hand and took another sip. You should probably return it to him.“Sean might be a loudmouth bastard, but this is one thing he and I can agree on.” Charles leads you up the small hill back to camp, his hand very low on your back. You assumed he meant you ass but just didn’t want to say that out loud.Charles bit you a goodnight, walking back into the wooded area; your eyes caught Hosea still at the table; your legs were aching, so why not sit?
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“Good evening, Mister Matthews!” You settled onto the wooden stool, the whiskey bottle resting beside you. Hosea looked up, a warm smile spreading across his face as he set aside the paper he’d been reading. “You’re awful chipper, Father (Name). Glad to see you better from earlier.” You chuckled, remembering how dramatic you’d felt.With a soft sigh, your hand rested against your palm, taking in Hosea's relaxed demeanor. “I’m too old for this, Mister Matthews,” you admitted, stretching your back. “I should have gotten this energy out 20 years ago. Not when my back hurts from even just sitting wrong.”Hosea laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners, radiating warmth and familiarity. He placed a supportive hand on your shoulder, the warmth of his touch sending a comforting flutter through you, almost like a gentle spark igniting something deep within. With a slight grin, he held out a small, weathered bottle toward you. “Homemade tonic. Trust me, you’re going to feel it tomorrow,” he said, his voice filled with a teasing undertone.The bottle was unmarked, its surface smooth yet slightly worn from years of handling, hinting at the loving care that went into its creation. As you accepted it, a rush of gratitude surged through you, and your heart swelled just a bit. You met his gaze, finding reassurance in his warm brown eyes. “Thank you, Mister Matthews. I'll be sure to keep this on me,” you replied, tucking the bottle safely into your pocket.“You’ve still got some youth left in you, Father," he continued a hint of mischief in his tone. “Giving up all those freedoms so young was bound to catch up with you at some point.”You chuckled, then sighed, “It's funny. I thought I was BLESSED by Jesus Christ not to have sex matter to me. Never interested in women, just focused on God!” The laughter dissipated into a groan as you pressed your face into your hand, overwhelmed by the weight of your emotions. Hosea chuckled softly, patting your shoulder in a comforting gesture.“I thought I was different from everyone else, that I was…special, capable of helping people find solace within the church.” This admission made you feel vulnerable, and you slumped against the table—the wooden surface, cool against your skin, grounding you amidst the swirling thoughts.“You’re plenty special, Father (Name). Look around—you’ve got a group of outlaws clamoring to be in a church!” Hosea’s voice was gentle yet encouraging, his hand now gingerly rubbing your back. The scent of peppermint lingered in the air as he leaned closer, adding to the warmth of his presence.He described Arthur, sharing tales of how he used to be much more argumentative and brash. “But since he first wandered off to see you, he’s changed. He’s been throwing himself into camp chores, even showing kindness to everyone around him. Just the other day, he went out of his way to get young Lenny a pocket watch after the poor boy lost his old one,” Hosea recounted; his admiration for Arthur is evident in his tone.A sense of pride and purpose puffed up as you listened. Yeah, you were helping someone be better. Sure, it was an outlaw who still did the jobs he needed to survive, but as a person, he was seemingly better. Of course, Arthur told you this himself, but the confirmation was just as lovely.You looked at tha table and saw that the pie you had brought was almost completely gone, a smile tugged at your lips. Hoping everyone was able to get a taste before it ran out. Turning your attention back to Hosea, you noticed his silver hair looked incredibly soft in the light. “He even went hunting with me to get a 1000-pound bear.” You sat up, staring at Hosea with wide eyes, “No kidding, you went out to catch a bear that big!” Hosea got a puff in his chest, “Sure did! It’s not the first time I stared death in the eye, and just like any other, I did not falter.”You stared at Hosea in awe, imagining him taking on such a large bear. “I didn’t know I’d been in the presence of such an amazing hunter. Did you end up killing this bear?” The prideful look on Hosea's face remained as he let out a confident nope! “But I and Arthur scared it away back into the woods.” you laughed at the story and yourself for believing it.“You’re too funny, Mister Matthews, quite the silver tongue. I imagine you’ve gotten many people under your spell with that.” You stoop up from the stool, feeling much better. “What category can I put you under?” Hosea's hand grabbed yours, stopping you before stepping away.You lifted Hosea's hands to your lips, “I am utterly bewitched.” pressing a kiss to his thinner hand, you walked toward the small scout's fire, spotting Kieran.
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“Mind if I sit with you?” Kieran looked at you nervously before shooting over. Your mind still buzzed as you stared at the fire. “I’m sorry about getting aggressive with you, Kieran. I just thought those rumors were behind me now.” Kieran stared up at you, watching you intently as you sat on your knees next to him, taking his hands in yours, “Could you find it in your heart to forgive me?”Kieran's face flushed, the sight of you on your knees and the warmth of your hands wrapping around his. Even just the fact that you were apologizing made him stir below the belt. “It’s okay, Father (Name). I, uh, I’m sure no one would be too happy to be called a whore, least of all you .” you sniffled, feeling very overwhelmed again.You pulled your hands from his, reaching up instead to cup his face, the roughness of his beard grazing your palms. The sensation was grounding, and you felt a surprising sense of comfort. “You’ll let me make it up to you?”His breath hitched, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt, but all he found was a quiet, steady resolve. “I’d like that,” he replied, his voice soft but earnest. His face is bright red as you lean in closer to him.“I just want to make things right with you.” His breathing mixed with yoursAnd then, without a word, his lips brushed against yours. You froze for a heartbeat, feeling the softness of his kiss, before your lips responded, deepening the kiss. His hand moved to cup the back of your neck, bringing you closer as the kiss grew more urgent, more frantic. You could feel the heat of his touch seeping into your skin, but you couldn’t feel anything else; the world around you seemed to fade until all that remained was the press of his lips against yours.You melted into him, your hands finding their way into his hair, pulling him closer. His usual hat fell off of his head. It was slow and tender at first, but the more you kissed him, the less you worried about your lack of experience, just needing to feel him against you. The warmth of his body was the same as when you slept next to each other. So comforting.When the kiss finally broke, both of you were breathless, your foreheads pressed together as you tried to catch your breath. His hands rested gently on your waist, and you couldn’t help but smile, but before you could say something, a familiar smell of a cigar was in the air.“Kieran, my boy, would you mind checking on The Count? Somethings got him agitated.”Kieran muttered something under his breath, but he nodded. “Right, Dutch. I’ll do that.”He turned back to you, offering a small, apologetic smile. "I’ll be right back," he murmured, as if he were torn between staying and doing his duty. His eyes held yours for a moment longer before he stood, his hands slipping from your waist with reluctance.You watched him go, your knees beginning to ache from the position. "Well, well…" Dutch’s smooth, low voice seemed to hang in the air. You looked up to find him leaning against a nearby boulder, his gaze fixed on you with amusement. His smile was sly, almost predatory. "Seems like you’ve got the boy all worked up, don’t you?"“My mind got away from me. Uh could you help me up?” You held your hands out, the ache worsening. He casually pushed off the rock, his boots crunching on the ground as he stepped toward you. His presence was commanding in an unsettling and captivating way."Oh, I think this arrangement is just fine," he said, his tone dropping slightly, its weight on your shoulders. His eyes flickered to your lips before meeting your gaze again.“There’s something about you, isn’t there? Something... irresistible. Something just real special about you. Your attention, has all my men whipped.” His eyes trailed over your face, lingering on your lips, then meeting your eyes again with a fire in his gaze. "You know, Kieran’s a good kid. But I can’t help but wonder... does he know what he’s gotten into?"Some of you still felt uncomfortable with how effortlessly he said these things. You couldn’t deny that Dutch’s charisma was magnetic, but you weren’t sure where it was all going."He knows, I think; I’m not even sure I know," you replied, your voice steady, though you felt the heat of his stare still lingering on you. You groaned, the locking of your knees almost becoming unbearable.Dutch’s smile grew a little wider, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Well, that’s good," he said, stepping even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Because I’d hate to think he’s got a monopoly on you." His hand brushed lightly against your arm, his fingers grazing your skin in a touch that was all too deliberate as he helped you up finally."Dutch, don’t start some odd competition about me."He chuckled darkly, leaning just a little closer, the warmth of his presence almost overwhelming now. "Oh, I never start something I don’t intend to finish, darling," he said, his voice low and playful. "But that’s a story for another time, I suppose."The air between you seemed to crackle with tension. The firelight danced off his face as he stepped back, his eyes never leaving yours. Your mind returned to the redheaded woman he had been dancing and smiling with just hours earlier. Why would he speak to you like this?Dutch gave you a final knowing look before he straightened up, brushing a hand through his hair. “Well, I’ll leave you to your thoughts. But just know this—if you ever want to talk more... you know where to find me.” Your knees popped as you stretched, the pain subsiding slowly.You saw Arthur stepping out of a tent. He nodded his head to you, and you walked over, hearing strumming again. Kieran followed behind you, now wearing the jacket that you had mended. The night had to be nearing an end as you saw all three women fast asleep, two men you hadn’t run into snoring next to Hosea, who was still reading by low light.
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The singing was lovely as you approached the fire. Kieran guided your ever-swaying bottle to sit on the log without falling. Sean’s voice was quite pleasant as he sang with an older man you didn’t get the name of.You didn’t try to hear the song's words; the fire was so bright you kept your eyes shut, letting it go through one ear out of the other. Kieran hummed the song next to you, and Arthur’s voice joined for a few lines, the whiskey letting you forget for a moment that each man had heard those rumors about you. You smiled as the song came to an end. You wanted nothing more than to lie down in your bed. Like your pillows and blankets called your name.Your eyes were half-lidded. “I should head home now,” you smiled at Kieran, going to stand. “Thank you for having me; I've never had a night like this.”Arthurs's hand pressed into your chest, stopping your walking. “I think it's safer for you to sleep here for the night. Yer vulnerable out there this late, drunk.” you scoffed, turning to face Arthur. “Am I that much safer here?” one of Arthur's hands went to his waist, asking just what you meant by that.“You all invited me here, t—to make me impure! Other than dear Kieran here.” Your hand reached for Kieran's head, clumsily petting his head and mumbling about his hair being soft. Which Kieran slightly revealed in the public display of tenderness.“Next time yer here, we aren't givin' you whiskey. Seems not to let you think properly.” Arthur huffed, holding your collar to stop your attempts to walk away.“I’m thinking more clearly than ever, Mister Morgan!” you exclaimed, struggling to break free from Arthur’s grip as you cast your gaze downward, feeling the weight of embarrassment. He held on firmly, not letting you retreat.“We don’t believe that (Name). It was just some gossip the girls picked up from town, and trust me, they didn’t take it seriously either,” Arthur replied, his eyes softening as he studied your downcast face, betraying the effort you were making to hold back tears.To him, your expression resembled that of a puppy being picked up by the scruff of its neck. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he realized how much this affected you.“Look, we know you’re a man of the cloth,” he said, his tone more reassuring now. “So just take it easy! We’re bad men, not evil.” You sighed; his words didn’t quite sink in with your state, and you still felt vulnerable.“If you need to be home that badly, we will take you.” His warmth was as comforting as that sleepy feeling.
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“Mister Morgan, do you mind?” A small smile tugged at Arthur's lips before he chuckled.“I do not mind, (Name). Come on, I'll help you up.” Arthur placed your arm over his shoulder, but you still felt somewhat dragged along your feet, not entirely lifting off the ground. You waved to Hosea, your eyes straining to make out your horse in the darkness.With a grunt, Arthur mounted his horse, strong hands steadying you as he helped you join him on the horse. Your legs hung off the side, swinging with each horse's step.You clicked your tongue to encourage your horse to follow. As you set off toward Valentine, the cold air against your face felt like a blessing, cooling the warmth still lingering from earlier.Your arms wrapped around Arthur for stability as he navigated the bumpy trail. The rhythmic sound of the horse's hooves against the dirt road was soothing. You gripped him tightly as your hands brushed against his side.A small thrill coursed through you as you couldn’t help but focus on how his chest was—almost unnaturally firm. As your hands felt around more, you felt inclined to ask.“Are you flexing, Arthur?” You asked, your voice teasing, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.Arthur’s deep laugh vibrated through his chest, a low sound that made your heart flutter. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”“Take a deep breath out then, Arthur.” You leaned in closer, your lips near his ear, the warmth of his skin barely brushing against you.A hesitant pause hung before he muttered, “...No.”You couldn’t suppress the laughter that bubbled up inside you. You buried your face into the back of his vest, feeling his body tense under your touch. Maybe he was trying to impress you, or perhaps he was simply nervous under your arms. Either way, it only made you smile wider.Arthur sighed, a quiet laugh escaping him as he relaxed under your hands. The muscles in his back softened beneath your touch, no longer tense. You could feel the change, how the weight of his body seemed to ease, his posture grew less rigid, and his body so much softer.“That’s not so bad,” you whispered against his back, your breath warm against the fabric. “No need to puff up around me.” His vest smelled faintly of pine and wet grassYou allowed yourself to relax further, the day's tension melting away in the security of his embrace. Your hand, which had rested gently against his side, now found the familiar curve of his chest again, pressing lightly through the fabric of his vest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips, and for a brief, heart-stopping moment, you wondered if he could feel the way yours raced in response.The horse’s hooves clopped rhythmically against the path, and Arthur’s low and gravelly voice broke the comfortable silence between you. “You alright back there? I imagine the amount you drank tonight is more than you’ve ever had.”His words, simple and caring, sent a warmth rushing through you. The vulnerability in his voice was something you didn’t often hear, and it made your heart swell with affection.“I’m good,” you murmured, your voice almost too soft for him to hear, but you didn’t mind. “Just enjoying the ride. And you. It’s nice... being this close.”Arthur’s posture shifted slightly as if he wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that. His hand, resting loosely on the reins, flexed momentarily. “Yeah, well… I don’t mind it either.”The wind rose again, brushing past you in an incredible, gentle sweep. You both held onto each other for a moment as if the outside world were irrelevant. It was a fleeting comfort, but in that quiet moment, it felt like everything.The outline of Valentine grew nearer, the flickering lights of the town barely visible in the distance. You were close now, almost home and able to climb into bed.As you approached the town, Arthur turned his head slightly, his voice quieter than before. “I’ll take you inside through the back, avoid people gettin’ the wrong idea. Seeing an outlaw carry you inside.” you nodded against Arthurs's back, holding him closer.Each horse came to a slow down behind the church. Arthur hitched his horse, and without warning, his large, strong hands were at your waist, lifting you effortlessly off the horse. He tossed you gently over his shoulder, the strength in his arms never ceasing to surprise you. He carried you easily despite your size as if you weighed nothing as a grown man.“Easy now,” Arthur murmured, adjusting his grip as he approached the church’s back door.Arthur took in the sight of the new area of the church he had never seen before. A few rooms lined the hallway as he carried your body to your room.Your body was mainly limp as he pulled the blanket over you. Arthur stared momentarily, and you began to lightly snore almost immediately. Arthurs's own exhaustion began to set in. He would just sit for a moment, make sure you were okay, and rest his legs from being on a horse for so long today.Arthur let out a long sigh, too tired to do much else. He didn’t want to leave you until he was certain you were settled. Slowly, he lowered himself into the nearby rocking chair, the creaky wood groaning under his weight. He couldn’t help but lean forward, his head dropping, his wide-brimmed hat falling low over his eyes.Your soft breathing lulled him to sleep. Maybe it was best for him to be here for the night to make sure you’d be okay in the morning.
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"Kieran, is that alright with you?" you asked, glancing at him with uncertainty and hope."Of course it is!" Kieran replied with infectious enthusiasm, his eyes sparkling as he offered you a reassuring smile. He stood up from the weathered log, the rough surface of the bark still clinging to his jeans, and moved closer to you. Gently, he placed your arm over his shoulder, providing steady support as you took your first steps toward the horses tethered nearby.Once you reached the line of horses, Kieran quickly assisted you. With a confident yet careful hand, he helped you mount the horse, ensuring you were safely seated before stepping back momentarily to admire you. He didn’t try not to mind that your skirt rode up slightly as you settled into the saddle. He cleared his throat, gathering his thoughts.With a soft rustle of leather, Kieran climbed onto the horse right behind you, his knees brushing against yours. He positioned himself securely, grabbing the reins. Kieran had to rip his eyes away from the sight of your hands toying with the saddle's horn, running your hands down the smooth wood without thinking.You needed to be home and safe, and your protector shouldn’t let his mind wonder at you interacting with a slightly phallic object.The road's uneven surface sent jolts through your body. The cold air against your face felt refreshing as you sighed and leaned back against Kieran's chest. You felt his chest rise and fall with each breath he took.With a relaxed sigh, you leaned back, resting against Kieran’s chest. You turned your head around, only able to get a slight glance at Kieran, “You sure you’re not getting tired of me being this close?”He tilted his head slightly, his lips curling into a small smile. “Not in the least,” he murmured, his voice low and shaky. His face was still pink even under the moonlight.You paused for a moment, feeling the closeness between you both. Then, with a teasing grin, you added, “You’ve got a good hold on me, don’t you?”He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Wouldn’t want you falling off. Besides,” he added, his hand sliding slightly down your back, “I like having you close.” Kieran felt like he was going to explode.The two of you weren’t too far from the church now; “I’ll take you inside through the back, avoid people gettin’ the wrong idea.”“How thoughtful,” you murmured, starting to nod off. Leaning more into Kieran's chest, you felt the horses come to a stop. Kieran dismounted first and gently lifted you off the horse, carrying you toward your room from the church's back entrance.Your legs were aching for relief as you finally laid eyes on your bed, precisely as you had left it—well, as you both had left it. Kieran moved the blankets aside to create an open space for you, but your hands held onto his body tightly.“Could you stay, please?” You softly begged, Kieran's voice caught in his throat. Wordlessly, though, he gave a slow nod, a soft smile creeping onto his lips as he kicked off his boots and entered the bed. He carefully crawled beside you, pulling the thick blankets around you.You fell asleep quickly, softly snoring almost the second after Kieran wrapped an arm around you. Kieran couldn’t help but stare; his hand moved carefully to brush a lock of hair away from your face; his tender touch would’ve made your heartache if you were awake. His fingers hovered near your cheek briefly before he pulled back, almost as if afraid of disturbing your sleep.Being in a bed was something he missed dearly, but sleeping next to you for a second time, it felt like his luck was beginning to turn.
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“I wanna ask Mister Matthews.” Arthur nodded, leading you over to Hosea.Arthur took a step forward, but you spoke first, your words careful. “Mister Matthews,” you called, trying to keep your voice low and respectful. Your eyes flicked briefly to the two men nearby, slumped in deep sleep, their snores soft but unmistakable.Hosea looked up, his face half-hidden by the low light of the lantern he was holding. “I’m sorry to ask, but could you take me home?” The flickering shadows cast an almost ethereal glow across his lined features, and a soft smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.“Of course, I don’t mind, Father,” he said warmly, his voice laced with the usual steady calm that always seemed to surround him. “The night’s nice, anyhow.” With a gentle nod, he stood, slipped on his jacket, and moved to take you in his arms, guiding you away from Arthur with experienced ease.Hosea quickly unhitched both of your horses, leading them quietly to the edge of the camp. The steady clip of his boots on the dirt was the only sound between you. As he gently helped you onto the horse, you kept your legs to the side, careful not to let your skirt ride up in the cool night air.You mounted the horse, settling into place behind Hosea. His movements were smooth and practiced, and you felt the warmth of his body as he mounted his horse and settled into the saddle.“I’m sorry,” you said softly, your voice tinged with apology. “I know it’s late, but I felt safer asking you.”Hosea turned slightly to glance at you, offering a slight, understanding nod. “I understand, Father. No need to apologize.” His voice had that same steady warmth that made you feel like the world outside of this moment wasn’t so pressing.He spurred his horse forward, and as the two of you began to move, your hands naturally rested on his hips for support. Your fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his jacket as you adjusted to the horse's motion beneath you.After a moment, Hosea broke the silence, his voice low. “You know, I’m surprised it took you this long to feel unsafe around a bunch of degenerates like us,” he said with a dry chuckle. “I thought you’d have figured it out sooner.”You felt a slight smile tug at your lips at the teasing tone, but you kept your words measured. “In my line of work, Hosea,” you said, the words light but pointed, “making assumptions is the quickest way to end up wrong.”There was a moment of silence as the two of you rode, the horses’ hooves gently crunching the earth beneath them. The cool air made you feel much better from any dizziness.Hosea shifted slightly, and his tone was much more reflective when he spoke again. “You know, I once thought about becoming a priest.”Your head shifted slightly, resting lightly on his shoulder as you processed the unexpected statement. “Is that so?” you asked, surprised. “What stopped you?”Hosea’s laugh came soft but genuine. “Well, it turns out you have to be Catholic to be a priest! I thought you could just sign up, and they’d hand you a robe or something.”You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, and you loosened your grip around his waist, your voice teasing. “Hmmm, yeah, that’s one of the first steps.”Hosea basked in the sound of your laughter; the sound of it seemed to stroke his ego just a bit. He had always been a man who could read the room and see the weight people carried—but this felt different. Something about you, in particular, made him feel lighter, even for a brief moment.“I think you would’ve made a good one,” you said, your voice still warm from the laughter. “You’re very fair and, well, fatherly. You’ve got to have some kind of silver tongue for this work anyway.”Your chin tucked into the soft fur of his jacket as the horses trotted steadily forward, the cool night air swirling around you both. Hosea's steady and slow heartbeat matched the rhythm of the horse’s gait, but your words lingered in his mind.“Is that so?” he replied, his voice curious but quiet, as if savoring the thought.“Yeah,” you continued, your words coming out faster now, like a flood you couldn’t quite hold back. “I mean, every time someone comes in because their faith wavered at the smallest inconvenience, you’re selling the idea that someone still cares about them. That their belief... their pain—it all means something.” It was like word vomit, a truth you had been holding back for a long time, suddenly spilling out.Hosea nodded slowly, his gaze straight ahead as the quiet of the night settled around you both. “Selling the idea that what they dedicated their life to wasn’t for nothing,” he said, his voice steady and calm. “That it will be worth it all in the end.” He took the words straight from your mouth.There was a heaviness that settled over you at his words. You thought of your work—the decades you had spent, pouring yourself into it with a deep belief that you were special, chosen in some way to help others find their way to God. But then, slowly, the realization had come that all that time, all that effort had been a lie. Your faith had been shaken. And yet, your work still meant something. It always would. It had, too.You let out a quiet sigh, a small weight lifting off your chest. You would carry on, no matter what had changed.Hosea’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. “That’s one way to think of it, Father,” he said with a soft chuckle, breaking the silence between you. “Here we are, coming up on the town. Is there a back door to the church?”You nodded, your voice steady. “Yes. I keep the key above the doorframe. I’ve locked myself out plenty of times.” You chuckled softlyThe two of you rode on silently for a bit longer, the steady clip of the horses’ hooves filling the air as the church came into view. The outline of the building was just visible against the darker horizon.As the horses slowed, Hosea dismounted first, his boots landing softly on the ground. He extended a hand toward you, his fingers cold but gentle.You took his hand without hesitation, allowing him to guide you down from the horse. His grip was firm, but the softness of his touch reminded you that there was more to him than his hardened exterior. The night air felt crisp against your skin.3“Thank you,” you said, your voice quiet but sincere, as you stood on the ground, now safe and back at the church. The warmth of his presence lingered even as he let go of your hand, and you found yourself looking up at him for a moment longer than you meant to.“Anytime, Father (Name),” Hosea said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he took a step back, eyes twinkling. His hand still held yours as he unlocked the door. As you walked through the door, Hosea's hand pressed into the small of your back, helping you walk through the dark hallway.You went to the door of your room, and Hosea had to let go of your hand.“Hosea, before you go… would you like to join me?” Your voice was softer than you intended, the request slipping out more sincerely than expected. Even though your body ached, begging you to fall into bed and rest, you couldn’t shake the thought of Hosea’s sleeping arrangement. He had no real bed or cushion—just the hard ground. Thinking of it, your back ached, and your concern for his well-being overpowered your exhaustion.Hosea looked at you with a slight tilt of his head, his brow furrowing gently, and then he let out a soft chuckle, his eyes warm. “There’s no need to push yourself to offer, Father, and you’re much too giving,” he said, his voice kind.“No! Please, I insist,” you said, your hand reaching for the doorknob as you stepped closer to him. “It would help me to rest knowing you’re warm and comfortable.”There was a pause between you, the air thick with an unspoken understanding. Hosea looked at you for a moment, his expression softening. His eyes flickered down for a moment, perhaps considering his pride, before meeting your gaze again, more vulnerable than before.“Alright, who am I to deny you?” he said quietly, his voice whispering that the weight of your offer had caught him off guard. He gave a slight nod, allowing you to guide him inside, where the flickering light from a small candle in the corner painted warm shadows against the walls.Hosea settled himself slowly, careful not to disturb the calm. His eyes stayed on you longer as you prepared the space, pulling back the covers. You both kicked off your boots and extra clothing items before you finally settled into the bed, the warmth from the blankets spreading over youHosea lowered himself carefully beside you, his movements deliberate. He did not want to take up too much space but still provided an undeniable presence. His warmth, steady breathing, and the room's quietness enveloped you both.You shifted slightly to face him, your voice barely audible but filled with something soft and comforting. “Thank you, Hosea. For everything.”He smiled in the darkness, taking in the sounds of your breathing and light snores.
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“Mister Macguire, would you be okay taking me home?” The question slipped out softly, but your voice had a playful spark. Sean’s eyes lit up immediately, his grin widening as he perked up, his hand outstretched toward you.“Course not! I’ve been waiting for ya to ask!” His voice held a teasing edge, and a gleam appeared in his eyes. “I enjoy the chase as well!”You couldn’t help but giggle at the banter, your heart feeling a little lighter in his presence. Arthur, standing nearby, shook his head, passing you over to Sean’s care.“Take good care of ‘em, Macguire,” Arthur said, his voice filled with amusement as he watched Sean try to support your steps despite being smaller than you.Sean leads you to the horses. You stand beside his horse while adjusting the saddle. You reach out to the horse, petting its nose and cooing softly.“Hey, don't go giving Ennis so much attention! Yer noble night is ready to whisk you away!’ Sean pulled you up on the horse. Laughing as your horse pressed its nose into your side.Your chest pressed against his back as your horse. Sean's hand trailed behind him as the ride began, resting gently against your thigh. He pulled you a little closer, ensuring you felt secure. “I don’t want you to fall off!” his voice was light but warm. “Don’t be afraid to hold onto me,” he offered with a grin, turning his head just enough to catch a glimpse of your expression.“Now, eh?” Sean hesitated, a flicker of nervousness crossing his features. You're going to have to give me some direction… I jus’ got here today.” You nodded, your gaze shifting to the dimly lit trails ahead, pointing out the path you followed on your trip there.Enjoying silence wasn’t a trait Sean had; he began telling stories about where he grew up. Most of the fine details didn’t stick to your mind, and almost no details did as your body ached and felt more and more tired.“You know, the reform school I was sent to, all the priests were mean old bastards. I don’t think I saw any of them once smile or laugh.” You hummed inagreement.When you were in seminary school, the only laughs and smiles from the staff were from the kitchen and among students in the shared cabin late into the night if they were restless.“But you well, yer all smiles even havin' a drink! Thank Christ, you aren’t as aggressive as reverend Swanson.” You hadn’t heard the name before, but as you saw the line of tracks leading to Valentine, you stretched back slightly, popping as the church came into view.“I’m guessing this is where you stay?” his voice was steady as the horses came to a slow down.“Yes, Mister MacGuire, I have a room and a few spares in the church!” Sean sized up the building as you hitched your horse to the fence before the church. Sean got off of his horse, offering his arm as support to get you inside.When you finally passed out, he helped you to your room, pushing the door open and ensuring it was on your side, not your back.The church was silent. Once your heavy door shut completely, Sean couldn't even hear your snores.Sean did intend to leave; he just wanted to sit in one of the pews momentarily and appreciate the warm building and soft candlelight. But the warmth wrapped around his body like a blanket. Slumped against the armrest of the pew, he had passed out.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Mister Escuella, could you escort me home?” you asked, glancing at Javier as he finished packing his guitar. He looked up from his task, his legs casually crossed, and he set the instrument aside with a playful glint in his eye.“I don’t mind,” he said with a slight grin, his voice smooth and low. “I’d like some quiet anyway.”His gaze drifted over to Sean and Uncle, laughing loudly and cracking open beer bottles. Javier shot them a pointed glare before turning back to you, his smile softening as he reached to take you from Arthur’s arms.With smooth motion, he helped you establish your footing better.Javier nodded to Charles as you walked, who gave him a silent look. As the two of you made your way toward the horses, Javier's eyes remained on you, the faintest smirk playing at the corner of his lips.The horse snorted, sniffing at your arms as Javier handed you the reins. "She’s a curious one," he said, his tone light. "Guess she knows a fine man when she sees one."You raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze. "She’s not the only one, then."Javier’s eyes widened as he stepped closer, his voice lowering just a touch. “A sharp tongue. I like that.”Javier moved to join you on his horse, his body just close enough that you could feel his warmth as he settled behind you. Taking the reins from your hands“Ready for a ride, Father?” he asked with a chuckle, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in just a little closer.The teasing tone in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, but you held your ground.The sound of hooves against the dirt road was the only noise, aside from the soft wind rustling the leaves overhead. Javier kept pace with you, his horse moving quickly beside yours.“So,” he said after a few moments, his voice once again smooth and low, “how’s a man supposed to keep his mind clear when we have unfinished business?”You glanced sideways at him. His dark eyes caught yours for a second, his smirk still playing on his lips.“You’re not shy, are you, Mister Escuella?” your voice was shaky, still a bit nervous.Javier let out a soft laugh, his gaze never leaving yours. “Why waste time being shy when there’s so much fun to be had?”As the two of you continued along the trail, his hand casually brushed against yours. It was a light touch, fleeting.Soon after, the church came into view, its windows shining with the soft glow of candlelight. The horses slowed on the side of the church closer to the back door.When you reached the door, Javier quickly assisted you, his hand steady on your arm as he helped you dismount. The warmth of his touch lingered, and he leaned in just a little closer, his voice dropping to a hushed tone.“I’m glad you asked me to come with you tonight,” he said, his words sincere but edged with a playful hint. “We can pick up where we left off without that Irish bastard around…”You turned to face him, the distance between you two closing, a shared moment of quiet passing between you. “Maybe,” you said softly, your gaze lingering on him. “I’m aching for my bed, though.”Javier’s eyes softened, the teasing glint never entirely leaving them. “We can lay down.”A small laugh escaped you; Javier followed as you opened the door and stepped inside, glancing around the dimly lit interior. His voice was quieter now, more serious, though the edge of mischief never entirely left.“Nice place you got here,” he said, his tone softer, more contemplative.“Maybe I should stay for a while.”You couldn’t help but smile, the tension between you both not entirely gone. “you're welcome to stay,” you said, glancing over your shoulder at him. Javier chuckled, “What a gentleman.”You both moved to your room, and the candles were dim because they had not been replaced in your absence.You kicked off your boots, and that’s when you felt Javier’s hands turning you around, lifting you, and pulling your legs around his hips.With a spin, you were placed on your bed, and a slight creak sounded as you stared at each other.Despite the confident action, his brows were screwed into a worried position. Eyes glancing across your face as your hands cupped his face.The soft mattress felt incredible on your aching back.Javier’s bangs ghosted over your face, both of you slightly pantingNeither of you moved, caught in the moment. His eyes flickered to your lips, then back up to your eyesWithout a word, you pulled his face to yours, your lips brushing against his, testing the waters. Javier's breath caught, He made the final push with the urgency built from when the two of you were interrupted hours ago. His hands tightened around your thighs, pulling you closer, and you melted into the kiss. If you weren’t so tired, you’d have half a mind to stop the whine that escaped your lips due to Javier deepening the kiss.His tongue explores your mouth slowly. Your eyes were shut as your hands made their way to his ponytail, tugging his hair and causing his head to lull backward with a moan.Your stomach stirred at the noise from what you thought was just a small way to get his attention. Javier's right eye opened, huffing above you.“Unless you want to kiss a corpse, I'm about to pass out.” Javier moved to allow you to lay correctly on your bed, unbuttoning your cassock while Javie kicked off his boots and jacket. A small apology escaped his lips as he placed his hat on your bedside table.You tucked into the thick blankets, leaving plenty of room for Javier, who lay very close, arms wrapped around you protectively. Your body felt heavy as sleep weighed you down.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
“Mister Smith, would you be okay with taking me home?” Your voice was low, laced with quiet exhaustion as you looked around the campfire. Charles stood nearby, his prominent figure still and calm against the night’s chill.He’d been lingering around, sharpening his knife or checking the gear—he always did what was needed without drawing attention to himself.Charles turned his head toward you, his expression unreadable for a moment before he nodded in that effortless way he had. “Sure, I don’t mind.” His deep voice was reassuring, making you feel slightly more at ease.He moved toward you without hesitation, effortlessly lifting you from Arthur’s arms with a gentleness you hadn’t expected, especially after a long night of drinking. Your feet dragged a bit as he guided you to his horse, and you hadn’t realized how tired you were until you felt his steady hand on your back, guiding you carefully.His shirt was rolled up at the sleeves, revealing forearms with muscles built from hard work, and his skin—despite the chill of the evening—was warm, like the heat from the campfire had followed him. When you approached the horse, you stumbled slightly, your legs less responsive than usual, and a small yelp escaped your lips.Without a word, Charles reacted swiftly, lifting you onto the horse with practiced ease, making sure you didn’t risk falling. His strong hands were firm on your waist as he guided you into position, his touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary, though it didn’t feel out of place.Once you were settled, Charles moved his horse closer to yours, ensuring he could ride alongside you. He didn’t say anything at first, but you could feel the space between you close as his horse slid right up next to yours. He swung his leg over the saddle, quickly joining you on the horse, his chest pressing gently against your back. His arms wrapped around your midsection, holding you with a sure, steady grip.“She’s a bit iffy with new people,” he said softly, the warmth of his breath brushing the back of your neck. “It’s better I hold ya in case she gets stressed out.” His voice was gentle and practical, and you could hear its caret, though there was also something else—a closeness, a quiet intimacy in how he spoke.You hummed in acknowledgment, nodding slightly as you shifted back briefly, closing the distance between you.Your body instinctively relaxed against him, the warmth from his chest seeping into your back. It wasn’t the kind of closeness you often felt, but there was something safe about it. He ensured you felt physically and emotionally secure as the horse moved forward.As your legs shifted slightly, you felt the weight of his gaze briefly on them, though you weren’t sure if it was intentional. Even under the layers of slacks, you could sense the way his eyes lingered, as though taking in the definition in your legs, the subtle muscles that rippled under your movements. You couldn’t help but notice his hands on your waist, his grip firm yet not uncomfortable.It was how he seemed to steady himself—just enough to be close without pressing too much, allowing the moment to unfold naturally. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was his usual manner of care or if there was something more profound there. But for now, the steady rhythm of the horse beneath you, the night air swirling softly, and the faint scent of his shirt—somehow calming, like earth and wood—distracted you from that thought.The silence between you both wasn’t uncomfortable, though. It felt like the kind of silence where the world around you could be moving in a blur, and yet, you were both here, sharing this moment without needing to fill it with words. His presence was enough to keep you grounded, and in return, you offered him that same silent understanding.The journey toward Valentine felt slower now, almost dreamlike, as you rode together, your bodies a little more attuned to each other with every passing mile.The steady rhythm of hooves against the soft trail carried you both more into the night. Charles’s arms remained securely around you, his touch warm and comforting against the chilly air. The quiet was only interrupted by your breathing and the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind.It was an intimate silence Charles wasn’t the kind to rush, and neither were you.Now and then, he would glance over your shoulder, ensuring the horse was steady, his gaze fleeting, almost hesitant. As much as he tried to remain composed, you sensed a certain softness in how he held you, a tenderness in his touch. It wasn’t merely out of necessity; it was the kind of care that made you wonder if something was deeper beneath the surface. But, like him, you weren’t inclined to push or ask questions when silence seemed more fitting.“Not far now,” Charles said after a few moments, his voice low and steady. “You alright?”You shifted a bit on the horse, leaning back slightly against his chest, the warmth from his body enveloping you. “Yeah, just... tired,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.He didn’t respond right away, but you felt his grip tighten just a bit around your waist as if to reassure you, his warmth seeping further into you. “I know the feeling,” he said softly. “Been a long night.”You chuckled, trying to shake off the lingering fog of exhaustion. “A long night indeed,” you agreed. The alcohol still buzzed in your veins, and you could feel the lingering effects of the drink, making your limbs heavier than usual. But it wasn’t unpleasant.There was something peaceful about this quiet ride with Charles, even if your mind was half-fogged with sleep.Charles’s lips pressed into a thin smile against your back. “I gotta admit,” he said, his tone shifting slightly, playful even. “I don’t think I’ve ever had someone lean so much on me.”Your face flushed, and you instinctively straightened up, trying to play it off. “I’m not that bad,” you muttered, your voice betraying your slight embarrassment. “Just... don’t want to fall off.”He laughed softly, the sound deep and genuine, his breath warm against your ear. “You think I’m going to let you fall off? You’re safe with me.”The simple words, the way he said them—so sure, so specific—made your heart skip a beat—just a man who meant it. And just like that, the tension between you seemed to shift. You swallowed, but you couldn't escape the way your pulse quickened under his touch.Charles didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he did but didn’t show it. He kept his eyes forward and his posture steady as you neared the outskirts of Valentine. The faint glow of lanterns was visible ahead. You could see the church silhouette in the distance, nestled at the edge of town.As you approached, the sound of hooves gradually quieted, and you took in the sight of your church—its tall, wooden frame standing proud against the dark sky. It was still, peaceful, familiar, almost like a beacon. The only light came from the windows, soft and inviting, as if it had been waiting for you to return.Charles slowed the horses as you reached the church’s front steps. “This is it, then?” he asked quietly, the question almost uncertain, as though he wanted to ensure he wasn’t intruding.You nodded, your hand lifting to gesture toward the door. “Yeah. This is home,” you replied softly, looking up at him.For a moment, neither of you moved. Charles stayed close, his chest pressing gently against your back, his arms still wrapped around your waist. You could feel the heat from his body radiating through his shirt, the thrum of his heartbeat through his chest.There was something in how he looked at you, your breath catching in your throat, and then, before either of you could say anything, there was a soft, almost awkward clearing of his throat.“Right, well,” he said, stepping back slightly, the tension in the air dissipating momentarily, though it left something behind. “Let’s get you inside. We wouldn’t want you catching a cold.”You chuckled softly, relieved by the lightheartedness of the moment. “Thank you,” you said, still feeling the heat in your cheeks.Chalres offered a slight, lopsided grin, something in his eyes before he helped you dismount. “Don’t mention it,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost as though he didn’t trust himself to say more.Once your feet were on solid ground, Charles gave your horse a gentle nudge, making sure it was adequately tethered on the fence. You turned to thank him again, but before you could speak, you suddenly stumbled slightly, your legs still not relatively as steady as you would’ve liked.Charles was quick to catch you, his large hands steadying your shoulders with surprising gentleness. You both froze for a moment, your closeness growing once again. He held you just a little longer than necessary before he let go, his eyes lingering on you, something unreadable there.“Careful now,” he said softly, his voice low but with an undertone of concern that made your heart flutter. “I wouldn’t want you hurting yourself, not after that ride.”You smiled at him, your gaze holding his for a beat longer than usual. “I’ll be fine, Charles,” you said, the words coming out softer than intended. “Thank you.”For a moment, you both just stood there, the quiet night settling around you, neither of you making a move to say anything more.Finally, Charles gave you a nod, stepping back. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, his voice now quieter, almost hesitant, as if he was unsure whether to stay or go. “you alright?”You nodded, watching him turn to leave, the warmth from his touch lingering on your skin even after he’d moved a few paces away. You nodded, giving him a small, grateful smile. “I’m alright, just a bit light headed.”His eyes softened slightly, his usual stoic expression shifting just enough to reveal the concern he tried to hide.“I can tell. Let’s get you inside, get you settled.”You hesitated momentarily before turning to unlock the door, holding it open just enough for Charles to enter. He lingered in the doorway for a second, his hand resting on the frame. But the night air felt too cool, and the warmth of the church seemed to pull him in like a quiet invitation.“I’ll... just sit for a while,” he said, his voice more uncertain now, almost sheepish as if he wasn’t sure whether to leave or stay. “If that’s alright?”The question was simple, but there was an undercurrent, an unspoken desire for companionship, a subtle wish for him to stay.“Of course,” you said, your voice soft and inviting. “It’s too cold out there anyway.”Charles nodded, glancing inside at the church's interior before meeting yours. “It’s peaceful,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on you longer than it should’ve.You both moved further inside, the soft flicker of candlelight casting shadows on the wooden pews. You led him to the pews closest to your room, the worn wood smooth beneath your fingertips as you sat down.Charles followed, sitting beside you but still keeping a little distance between you, respectful as always.The silence between you was comfortable now, no longer tense but filled with a quiet understanding. You could feel the weight of the night lifting, the steady rhythm of the church’s calm atmosphere bringing you both to a place of stillness.Charles leaned back slightly, his broad frame relaxing against the wood. His eyes were trained on the flickering candles. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper.“It’s different here, isn’t it?” His gaze shifted to you. “The quiet. I reckon you get used to it.”You smiled, a soft, knowing smile. “You do. But sometimes, it’s nice to have someone to share it with.”There was a long pause. The kind that felt full of potential, the whole of something neither of you was ready to say out loud. Charles shifted in his seat, his shoulders seeming to relax slightly.“I wouldn’t mind stayin’ a bit longer,” he said quietly, his voice a little more tentative now. “If you don’t mind the company.”You nodded without hesitation, your heart thudding in your chest as the space between you seemed to close. “I don’t mind at all, Charles.”He gave a small, grateful smile. You both sat in the church’s peaceful silence, the candlelight flickering in the still air, and the warmth of his presence beside you was enough to fill the quiet.After a long moment, Charles cleared his throat, glancing down at his hands resting in his lap. “Guess I should say it,” he muttered, almost to himself. “I’m glad you asked me to come with you tonight.”The words felt heavier than they should, like a confessionYou turned to him, meeting his gaze. “I’m glad you brought me,” you said softly. Your head rested on his shoulder as you felt sleep take you away.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Your head throbbed painfully as beams of the rising sunlight pierced through the thin fabric of your windows, a harsh reminder of your reckless decision to leave them open before collapsing into bed.You were just a bit preoccupied when you got home…
With a weary sigh, you reached into your pockets and retrieved the small glass bottle of tonic that Hosea had entrusted you with his usual kindness. The chill of the bottle contrasted sharply with the heat of embarrassment that spread across your cheeks—remembering last night’s hedonism.Sitting upright, you downed the contents swiftly, the liquid sliding down your throat with a bittersweet tang. Almost immediately, the worst of your headache began to relent, turning into a dull throb that pulsed like a drum.As you glanced around your room, memories of the previous night began to filter back. The celebration of Sean's return had blurred the lines of your usual restraint, and you could feel a flush of shame creep over you completely as fleeting images of your less-than-graceful interactions with several men floated back to the surface.You buried your face in your hands, realizing you had made a fool of yourself in front of many people. You could only recall snippets—laughter, teasing remarks, and the rising warmth of the drinks coursing through you. The weight of your actions settled like a stone in your gut, nagging at you as you desperately tried to piece together the fragments of a night that had quickly spiraled.
What you did begin to remember wasArthur! Your eyes finally caught sight of the man. His chest raised and fell with each breath he took. You stood up slowly, minding the ticking bomb that was your remaining headache.You shut the curtains; the room became much dimmer at the curtains closing when the ache of your body hit you again.You looked back at Arthur, unable to see his face hidden by his hat.You removed your cassock and put on your much more comfortable clothes, keeping your eyes on Arthur to ensure you didn't wake him.You sighed in relief. The slightly constructive clothing finally fell off your body, landing softly on the floor. You shivered slightly at the cold air on your body, quickly pulling your basic brown button-up and a pair of slacks. Having slept in the cassock, it was the last thing you still wanted on your body, at least for a few hours.
Your headache was going down, so why not start cooking, just to be a little early?Looking back to Arthur, your whole body softened, seeing his sleeping figure.He stayed with you the whole night; he took your comment of feeling unsafe to heart and stayed to watch over you. Stepping to your bed, you grabbed the heavy quilt and placed it over Arthur's still-sleeping figure. The mornings were the coldest in Valentine's, and the rainy season was just days away.You reached for Arthurs's hat, removing it from his head so it wouldn’t fall. But you couldn’t help but admire his face. This would maybe be one of the only times you could stare and take it in after so long.The small scarers on his face you didn’t notice before a small one across his chin. The wrinkles by his eyes from squinting. His facial hair is slightly grown out.You turned to your door, opening it slowly to avoid the creaks.Lighting the stove, you set out the bacon and the last dozen eggs you had.Arthur stirred awake, the quilt across his body sliding down as he went to stand. Seeing that you were no longer in bed, a bolt of worry shot through his body. Arthur grabbed his hat and quickly made his way out of the room.His mind went to some odd conclusions that nonetheless still made him nervous. Turning the corner from your room, Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, seeing you stand at the stove. Then he did a double take.
You were in pants with a tucked-in button-up. It felt like his mind had come to a complete stop. His first full day of being able to admire you closer than 5 feet, and it was like you were seducing him with your figure being so prominent.“Good morning, Arthur!” You called cheerfully, your voice warm and inviting as he entered the kitchen. “Thank you for bringing me home, Arthur. You truly are a sweet man.”With a smile lingering on your lips, you returned to the stove, where the enticing aroma of sizzling bacon filled the air. The golden strips curled and crackled in the pan.
Arthur, standing nearby, adjusted his hat, making sure it sat comfortably on his head. “I’m no sweet man,” he replied, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Just bein’ a friend.”His gaze wandered over you momentarily, a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. During your dances, he had felt your presence close to him, a connection that ignited something deeper within him. He understood why you chose to wear that skirt—it was a beautiful yet modest choice, a way to balance what you wanted to express with the constraints of the world around you.Taking a seat at one of the rustic wooden chairs at the table, Arthur placed his hands against the cool surface, noticing the intricate details of the church's interior he hadn't observed before. Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow and illuminating the wooden beams above.You beamed with delight as you set a cup of coffee before him. “I found these fancy candy pieces at the general store! They taste amazing if you let them melt in the coffee!”Arthur’s curiosity piqued as he watched you drop the tan-colored ball into his cup. It made a satisfying ‘thunk’ as it sank to the bottom, releasing a faint ripple in the surface of the liquid.He leaned in, captivated by the steam swirling and dancing around the cup. The inviting scent, sweet and unfamiliar, filled his senses.With a cautious sip, Arthur was met with an unexpected taste. He had never been one for sugar or milk in his coffee, mainly because he rarely had access to such luxuries. But the addition of whatever you gave him made the coffee delightful.“They're called caramels! I’m not sure what they are!” you exclaimed, bustling about the kitchen. You had prepared a serving plate and were piling crispy bacon strips high.“Arthur, would you mind getting some eggs? I don't think I'll have enough for this morning!” your hands reached into your slacks, pulling out a small money clip and handing Arthur a $5Arthur finished the last of his coffee. The ball of caramel sat on his tongue, practically entirely melted.Arthur pushed the five back into your hand. “I know where to get some cheap eggs, don't worry about it.” He didn't. He considered the coop back at camp, but that would take too long.He'd buy them from one of the farmers nearby and maybe pick up more of those candies on the way back.
You huffed, trying to put the five in his pocket, but despite Arthur's size, he quickly dodged and made his way out of the front doors.Everyone would show up soon enough; you had to be ready to feed about eight hung-over men.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Your head throbbed painfully as beams of the rising sunlight pierced through the thin fabric of your windows, a harsh reminder of your reckless decision to leave them open before collapsing into bed.You were just a bit preoccupied when you got home…With a weary sigh, you reached into your pockets and retrieved the small glass bottle of tonic that Hosea had entrusted you with his usual kindness. The chill of the bottle contrasted sharply with the heat of embarrassment that spread across your cheeks—remembering last night’s hedonism.Sitting upright, you downed the contents swiftly, the liquid sliding down your throat with a bittersweet tang. Almost immediately, the worst of your headache began to relent, turning into a dull throb that pulsed like a drum.As you glanced around your room, memories of the previous night began to filter back. The celebration of Sean's return had blurred the lines of your usual restraint, and you could feel a flush of shame creep over you completely as fleeting images of your less-than-graceful interactions with several men floated back to the surface.You buried your face in your hands, realizing you had made a fool of yourself in front of many people. You could only recall snippets—laughter, teasing remarks, and the rising warmth of the drinks coursing through you. The weight of your actions settled like a stone in your gut, nagging at you as you desperately tried to piece together the fragments of a night that had quickly spiraled. What you did begin to remember wasKieran! Your eyes finally caught sight of the man. His chest raised and fell with each breath he took. You stood up slowly, minding the ticking bomb that was your remaining headache.You shut the curtains; the room became much dimmer at the curtains closing when the ache of your body hit you again.
You looked back at Kieran. His arms were tucked under his body, sleeping in a defensive position.You removed your cassock and put on your much more comfortable comfortable clothes, keeping your eyes on Kieran to ensure you didn't wake him.You sighed in relief. The slightly constructive clothing finally fell off your body, landing softly on the floor. You shivered slightly at the cold air on your body, quickly pulling your basic brown button-up and a pair of slacks. Having slept in the cassock, it was the last thing you still wanted on your body, at least for a few hours.Your headache wasn’t worsening, so why not start cooking a little early? Looking back at Kieran, your whole body softened when you saw his sleeping figure.
He was one of the softest men you’d ever met before. Shy but so willing.You reached for his hair; it was as smooth as it could be for a man who had been sleeping outside. You feathered your fingers through it, but it was relatively thin, with no curl pattern or texture.
You tucked a loose stand behind his hair before lifting the blankets over his body and tucking him in.You turned to your door, opening it slowly to avoid the creaks.Lighting the stove, you set out the bacon and the last dozen eggs you had.Kieran stretched, bones popping as he wrapped himself further in the blankets of your bed. It was the first bed he slept in that wasn’t covered in ratty blankets or freezing in months.Kieran could smell the bacon cooking as he sat up and looked around your room. The shelves were slightly messy and filled with books and trinkets.
Papers stuck out of books, and small boxes were painted with flowers and crosses.Kieran exited your room, his steps faltering as he turned the corner and caught sight of you at the stove. The simple act of seeing you in the soft morning light, dressed casually, left him breathless. Sure, he'd just slept beside you the night before, his lips still carrying the memory of your kiss, but something about this moment had his heart racing. You were wearing a pair of pants and a tucked-in button-up shirt. The rich brown of the fabric seemed to complement the warmth in your smile as if it was made just for you. And Kieran couldn’t help but think you could wear anything and still look like an angel."Good morning, Kieran!" Your voice was like a melody, warm and welcoming, and it made his heart flutter as he entered the kitchen. "Thank you for bringing me home last night and staying with me."You smiled, that soft, radiant smile that made everything else fade away. As you returned to the stove, the scent of sizzling bacon filled the air, wrapping around him like a sweet embrace. The bacon curled and crackled as it cooked, and Kieran found himself rooted to the spot, watching you with a mixture of admiration and affection.He stood beside you, trying to help, but your cooking entranced him, your rosary glinting softly against your shirt. His gaze lingered on the curve of your form, wandering almost involuntarily. He quickly looked away, his cheeks flushing. The skirt must have been for those with eyes like his.“You look beautiful today, Father (Name),” he said, his voice a little hushed, the words spilling out before he could stop them. “I mean, really, you're just... so handsome.”
Your eyes met his as you placed a few crispy strips of bacon on a plate, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "You think so?”Kieran’s heart skipped a beat, his words feeling suddenly too bold. “Forgive me for being so forward,” he stammered, scratching the back of his head yet still sneaking a glance at you.You beamed at him, and the warmth of your smile made his chest tighten. Holding a steaming cup of coffee, you teasingly said, “Well, I like to think compliments are part of what we’ve been sharing.” The moment lingered, both of you feeling flushed; neither acknowledged how close the two of you had been.Kieran inhaled deeply, the sweet aroma of the coffee tickling his senses. It was gentler than the usual bitter brew he drank, and as he took a cautious sip, the taste surprised him. Sweet, with a hint of something unexpected, it was like a warm hug in a cup.You were bustling around the kitchen, still focused on the bacon, a light laugh escaping your lips as you watched him savor the drink. “It’s good, right!? It’s a new candy I’ve never tried before,” you said, grinning as you stacked the bacon on the plate.Kieran smiled at the taste, letting it melt into his mouth, feeling the sweetness linger on his tongue. "It’s amazing," he said softly, his gaze never leaving you. It wasn’t just the coffee—it was you. "Oh, and Kieran,” you added, pulling a small money clip from your slacks and handing him a five-dollar bill, “would you mind grabbing some eggs? I don’t think I’ve got enough for breakfast this morning.”Kieran nodded, taking the bill, but not before taking another moment to savor the sight of you. Even the most ordinary tasks with you felt extraordinary as if each moment was a treasure. He downed the rest of his coffee, savoring the sweet remnants on his tongue. With the candy melting away, he left the kitchen with a heart full of affection.He made his way out of the church, and lucky enough, a local chicken farmer wasn’t much of a walk away.Everyone would show up soon enough; you had to be ready to feed about eight hung-over men.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Your head throbbed painfully as beams of the rising sunlight pierced through the thin fabric of your windows, a harsh reminder of your reckless decision to leave them open before collapsing into bed.You were just a bit preoccupied when you got home…
With a weary sigh, you reached into your pockets and retrieved the small glass bottle of tonic that Hosea had entrusted you with his usual kindness. The chill of the bottle contrasted sharply with the heat of embarrassment that spread across your cheeks—remembering last night’s hedonism.Sitting upright, you downed the contents swiftly, the liquid sliding down your throat with a bittersweet tang. Almost immediately, the worst of your headache began to relent, turning into a dull throb that pulsed like a drum.As you glanced around your room, memories of the previous night began to filter back. The celebration of Sean's return had blurred the lines of your usual restraint, and you could feel a flush of shame creep over you completely as fleeting images of your less-than-graceful interactions with several men floated back to the surface.You buried your face in your hands, realizing you had made a fool of yourself in front of many people. You could only recall snippets—laughter, teasing remarks, and the rising warmth of the drinks coursing through you. The weight of your actions settled like a stone in your gut, nagging at you as you desperately tried to piece together the fragments of a night that had quickly spiraled. What you did begin to remember was
Hosea! Your eyes finally caught sight of the man. His chest raised and fell with each breath he took. You stood up slowly, minding the ticking bomb that was your remaining headache.You shut the curtains; the room became much dimmer at the curtains closing when the ache of your body hit you again.You looked back at Hosea. He slept on his side, hugging your pillow close to his chest, his face tucked into the soft pillow.You removed your cassock and put on your much more comfortable clothes, keeping your eyes on Hosea to ensure you didn't wake him.You sighed in relief. The slightly constructive clothing finally fell off your body, landing softly on the floor. You shivered slightly at the cold air on your body, quickly pulling your basic brown button-up and a pair of slacks. Having slept in the cassock, it was the last thing you still wanted on your body, at least for a few hours.
Your headache wasn’t worsening, so why not start cooking a little early?Looking back at Hosea, your whole body softened. He was the reason your splitting headache was now just a mild inconvenience.Seeing him in a way that made him seem small despite being such a spindly man. You were sure a real bed at no hotel cost was a treat for the man.You folded the man’s jacket and placed it in your empty rocking chair, away from the bed.You turned to your door, opening it slowly to avoid the creaks.
Lighting the stove, you set out the bacon and the last dozen eggs you had.When Hosea woke up to an empty bed, the smell of cooking filled his senses, and he almost thought he was still dreaming. There was no escaping the life he was in; no one ever truly got out. But for just one moment, he could pretend all that existed outside the room was a lovely meal and you.Sitting up from the bed, Hosea looked around your room. The photos hung on the wall in small frames of faces with names he'd probably never know.Hosea slipped on his boots and cleaned your bed before leaving your room. Turning the small hallway corner, Hosea admired you as you cooked. You looked sharp in everyday clothing, but he wished you had a vest and a neckpiece to complete your lovely look.“Good morning, Mister Matthews. Thank you for bringing me home last night. I slept very well knowing you weren't on that cold floor.” A smile graced his face as he stepped into the kitchen.“Your thoughtfulness knows no bounds. I’m glad my stories of bravery got me into a warm bed for the night.” You huffed, warmth enveloping your face as you held out a cup of coffee for Hosea to take.Hosea has had coffee almost every morning for as long as he can remember, adding whatever sweetener or flavorful herb he could to make it more fulfilling.
But for almost as long now, he stopped, letting the bitter flavor do most of the work to wake him up—nose scrunching at the bitter taste.He might drop a clove now and then or a bit of mint, but it wasn’t the same as it once had been.So, as he watched the steam rise from the cup, he reminisced—back when the coffee in the morning was sweet. He sniffed the sugary drink before finally tasting the smooth coffee.Hosea smiled, watching you bustling around the kitchen, still focused on the bacon, a light laugh escaping your lips as you watched him savor the drink. “It’s good, right? It’s a new candy I’ve never tried before,” you said, grinning as you stacked the bacon on the plate.“I've never tried this candy before either; quite a find, Father (Name)!”You beamed, checking over the eggs and counting them out over and over as if more would appear.“You’ve got about eight drunken fools about to come in and three ladies who’ve been stuck eating the same overcooked rabbit for two weeks.” Hosea wheezed a laugh, watching your expression twist around.
You laughed when you realized how many people would be coming by, which made you happy, but you were horrified at your lack of preparation.“Mister Matthew's, could you please buy some eggs?” You pulled a five from your money clip, holding it out. Hosea pushed the money back into your hand.“My treat.”You sighed, watching Hosea speed walk away from your money and out of the front doors, he didn’t let them slam but guided them to click shut.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Your head throbbed painfully as beams of the rising sunlight pierced through the thin fabric of your windows, a harsh reminder of your reckless decision to leave them open before collapsing into bed.You were just a bit preoccupied when you got home…With a weary sigh, you reached into your pockets and retrieved the small glass bottle of tonic that Hosea had entrusted you with his usual kindness. The chill of the bottle contrasted sharply with the heat of embarrassment that spread across your cheeks—remembering last night’s hedonism.Sitting upright, you downed the contents swiftly, the liquid sliding down your throat with a bittersweet tang. Almost immediately, the worst of your headache began to relent, turning into a dull throb that pulsed like a drum.As you glanced around your room, memories of the previous night began to filter back. The celebration of Sean's return had blurred the lines of your usual restraint, and you could feel a flush of shame creep over you completely as fleeting images of your less-than-graceful interactions with several men floated back to the surface.You buried your face in your hands, realizing you had made a fool of yourself in front of many people. You could only recall snippets—laughter, teasing remarks, and the rising warmth of the drinks coursing through you. The weight of your actions settled like a stone in your gut, nagging at you as you desperately tried to piece together the fragments of a night that had quickly spiraled. What you did begin to remember wasSean, you remember how forward he was and your lack of effort to stop him. Not because you couldn’t fight back but because you didn’t want to.You shut the curtains; the room became much dimmer at the curtains closing when the ache of your body hit you again.You looked back at your bed, fixing the messy sheets. You removed your cassock and put on your much more comfortable clothes. You sighed in relief. The slightly constructive clothing finally fell off your body, landing softly on the floor.You shivered slightly at the cold air on your body, quickly pulling your basic brown button-up and a pair of slacks. Having slept in the cassock, it was the last thing you still wanted on your body, at least for a few hours.Your headache wasn’t worsening, so why not start cooking a little early? A new mouth to feed was always welcomed.You stepped out of your room. The door shutting was loud, but the snores from a sleeping Sean were even more deafening. Sitting in a further back pew, his head hung off the armrest, and his body slightly curled into the corner of the wooden seats.As you stood there, transfixed by how the light danced across his features, warmth spread through your chest. His orange hair caught the sunlight, making your heart flutter. Each tousled strand looked much brighter in the light shining through the church's stained glass windows.You couldn’t help but admire the scar on his nose and the sun-kissed blush on his cheeks that hinted at the innocence of sleep. The moles scattered across his face, not quite freckles but like the brightest stars shining through on a cloudy night. You leaned down gently, careful not to wake him, and picked up his weathered hat from the floor. It smelled faintly of him—whiskey, smoke, and the open road. You set it softly beside him, and then his eyes fluttered open, squinting at the light and finding you there, bathed in the soft, colorful glow of the stained glass.“Eh, what time is it?” Sean mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep. His gaze found you standing there, lit up by the colorful glow of the stained glass. “Morning, Father (Name). Didn't mean to take up yer holy place like this…”You waved a hand, stepping back as he rubbed his eyes. “Nonsense, Mister MacGuire. The church is here for whatever folk need. Even if it’s just a warm place to sleep.”He stretched his legs out, groaning as he sat up, and reached for his hat with that same careless grin, his body twisting in a way that made his shirt ride up just enough to catch your eye. He reached for his hat, rubbed the sleep from his eyes, then looked back at you. “Well, I’m sure yer sick of me already. I'll let ya get back to yer… holy duties. But, be seein’ ya around camp, yeah? Don’t just go visitin’ Javier all the time.” He gave you a playful shove on the shoulder.A bolt of embarrassment struck your body, looking away from Sean. You wish that couldn’t been something he’d forgotten in his drunken state, but that was wishful thinking.“Would you like some coffee, Mister MacGuire? I do breakfast and dinner at the church every day. A few of the boys from the camp come by for the food, but… there’s always room for one more.” Your voice was a little softer, getting over your embarrassment.His lips twitched into a grin, and his eyes sparkled with that mischievous glint that made your heart flutter too fast. “Aye, I could use a drink. But only if yer makin’ that pie, too. I think it’s the only reason I’d stick around, love.”The way he said “love” made your chest tighten, and you couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh, even though you were aware of the warmth spreading across your face.“I’m glad you enjoyed you enjoyed the peach pie! I can make it for dinner tonight. How about that?” You made your way to the kitchen, Sean following behind you.“Sounds like a plan! I almost couldn’t get a bite in; I had to fight off four bastards just to get a sliver!”“Is that so? Maybe I should make two for tonight then…” your voice trailed as you began to heat the coffee pot. Setting out the eggs and meat, you realized you had far from enough eggs to feed 11 grown adults with some extra knowing Kieran.“The sweet tooth some of those brutes have is ridiculous; I figured if Dutch didn't push me out of the way, Charles would’ve ripped my head off!” Sean leaned against the counter, recounting how fast the pie had gone and half of the camp not even seeing it before it was eaten.You didn’t figure most of the men would have such a sweet tooth, but as Sean talked about Hosea and Arthur both sneaking an extra slice to share, you felt your pride swell up.The coffee was just before a boil, and before you poured two cups, Sean was still talking as you dropped a tan caramel ball into your coffee. The sweet smell spilled into the air as you offered one to Sean.“What’s that?” Sean eyed the wrapped candy in your hand; it was covered in a pink wrapper that was slightly see-through. “Some new candy the general store just got! It makes the coffee sweet. Would you like one?”“Well, don’t mind if I do, love.” Taking the candy from your hand, he unwrapped it and popped it into his mouth. You watched him wide-eyed. You had meant it for the coffee, but whatever.You handed him the cup of coffee, the caramel still in his mouth with each sip he took.“To think I get taken a few weeks, and they find some sweet man to care for them!” You took your skillet from the drying area and unwrapped the bacon from the thick butcher's paper.Half of the bacon had been cooked as Sean talked about his father. You responded occasionally but gave him the space to speak as much as he wanted.“Sean, I hate to ask, but could you go out and buy some eggs?” You took a five from your money clip and held it to Sean.“Of course! Eh, where are the eggs sold round here?” He tucked the five into his pocket and kicked off the counter you hadn’t realized he was sitting on.“Well, just down the road is the butcher; he usually has fresh eggs at his table! Get me about two dozen more; poor Kieran eats like I’ll take it away from him.” Sean cleared his throat, avoiding the sad look in your eyes as you spoke about Kieran. “I like that outfit, Father; took my advice, didn’t ya?” You huffed, remembering his comment from the night before.“Oh! Hush, you temptress, please mind the door as you get the eggs!” You watched Sean's smile widen as he hung around the kitchen door frame.“I’ll get ya those eggs, Father (Name)! I’ll be back in a second!” Sean jogged to the doors of the church that closed heavily behind him.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Your head throbbed painfully as beams of the rising sunlight pierced through the thin fabric of your windows, a harsh reminder of your reckless decision to leave them open before collapsing into bed.You were just a bit preoccupied when you got home…With a weary sigh, you reached into your pockets and retrieved the small glass bottle of tonic that Hosea had entrusted you with his usual kindness. The chill of the bottle contrasted sharply with the heat of embarrassment that spread across your cheeks—remembering last night’s hedonism.Sitting upright, you downed the contents swiftly, the liquid sliding down your throat with a bittersweet tang. Almost immediately, the worst of your headache began to relent, turning into a dull throb that pulsed like a drum.As you glanced around your room, memories of the previous night began to filter back. The celebration of Sean's return had blurred the lines of your usual restraint, and you could feel a flush of shame creep over you completely as fleeting images of your less-than-graceful interactions with several men floated back to the surface.You buried your face in your hands, realizing you had made a fool of yourself in front of many people. You could only recall snippets—laughter, teasing remarks, and the rising warmth of the drinks coursing through you. The weight of your actions settled like a stone in your gut, nagging at you as you desperately tried to piece together the fragments of a night that had quickly spiraled.What you did begin to remember wasJavier! Your blood began rushing as you felt his arms wrapped around your waist still, even in your sat-up position. You unwrapped his arms from your body and stood to shut the curtains; the room became much dimmer when the ache of your body hit you again.You looked back at your bed.Javier was still fast asleep. You removed your cassock and put on your much more comfortable clothes. You sighed in relief. The slightly constructive clothing finally fell off your body, landing softly on the floor.You shivered slightly at the cold air on your body, quickly pulling your basic brown button-up and a pair of slacks. Having slept in the cassock, it was the last thing you still wanted on your body, at least for a few hours. You glanced at Javier.His hair was no longer in its usual ponytail, sprawled across the pillow. His dark hair framed his calm face. You admired his face a bit longer; sure, this was your only chance to get such a good look without being tormented by his teasing words and eyes.His face had no blemishes; of course, there were scars. One down his nose, one across his neck, one on his cheek, one that gave him the split in his left eyebrow. Stories you might never hear.His usual blue vest is on the ground beside the bed; you hold the clothing item. The vest was still in lovely condition for a man who’d lived such a rough life. You placed it on the bed and adjusted the thick blanket to lay evenly on Javier. The mornings at Valentine were torture if you weren’t layered or used to them.Your headache wasn’t worsening, so why not start cooking a little early?You stepped out of your room. The door shutting was squeaky but not loud as you made your way to the kitchen.The smell of coffee and bacon filled the air as Javier woke up. He sighed, not seeing you in bed beside him. He had hopped to sneak in whatever sleepy touches and kisses before the alone time between you would be cut short once again.Javier reached for the pillow you slept on, momentarily holding it to his chest before getting up. Javier looked around your room; part of him thought it was a little silly to leave a robber alone in your room, but it dawned on him that you didn’t know details like that.Out of habit, Javier grabbed a book from your shelf; the pages were worn, and his tired mind couldn’t make sense of many of the longer words, but he looked at your annotations. The random lines you had underlined, the question marks, and exclamation points scattered around. The small sentences you had in the margins, from what he could understand, you were very… surprised?After closing the book, Javier slid it back into place, trying to remember its color and the flowers carved into the leather spine. Javier patted his chest, feeling for his vest. Glancing around the floor, he remembered removing it just before falling asleep.After finding it at the edge of the bed, he slid it on, followed by his boots—both left there by you, a small but thoughtful gesture.The door shut with a click when Javier spotted you at the stove. He licked his lips at the sight of you. He couldn’t help the way his gaze lingered on you. A memory flashed—Arthur mentioned that you wanted to dress more "normally" the other day on their trip to Blackwater.Javier’s mind wandered to the idea of taking you shopping, of spoiling you with new clothes. He imagined you twirling before him, showing off each outfit with playful spins and coy poses. Maybe he’d even help pick them out, matching with you in little ways, making it something just for the two of you.“Good Morning, Mister Escuella! There's coffee on the table for you!” Javier hovered around you and the stove.You shifted just enough to place the last few strips of bacon on a serving plate, but Javier's fingers gently caught the loop of your belt before you could entirely turn. With a slow, purposeful pull, he drew you toward him, your hip pressing against his thigh, the heat of his body sending a spark through your chest.Javier’s fingers tightened around your belt loop just a bit more, drawing you closer, feeling the warmth of your body pressing against his. His chest brushed your back, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through the thin fabric between you.Javier's voice rumbled, rich with admiration, as his hand slid from the belt loop to your waist, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your side. His touch was almost a secret as if he were savoring the moment.“You wear that so well," he murmured, his breath warm against your neck. “I think I could get used to seeing you like this.”Heat rose to your ears as you thanked him."Maybe, just maybe," he continued, gently pulling you closer. I'll take you out today. Get you something new. Something just for you, something that makes you smile like this." His lips brushed the side of your ear, the whisper sending a shiver down your spine.His voice softened, a playful glint in his eye when you turned your head slightly. “What do you think? Maybe a little matching set? Could be fun, no?”His hand rested on your back, his fingers pressing lightly against your spine as he pulled you closer, his lips curling into a smirk when you laughed softly.You twisted in his arms, turning to face Javier even though your legs felt weak fully. “There’s no need to spoil me so much, plus the days just started; your coffee will get cold if you keep teasing.”Your voice was shaky. He looked at you like no one else existed, his eyes dark and full of something unspoken. You didn’t need to say anything. The way he held you, close enough to feel the steady beat of his heart, said it all.Before you could think of another word, his lips tentatively brushed against yours. It was a soft, gentle kiss, his mouth warm against yours. But he responded when you leaned into it, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss with a quiet urgency.His hand cradled your cheek, his scarred thumb pad brushing over your skin. The kiss was still slow, much slower than the night before. Heat pooled in your stomach.When you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, you found his eyes still locked onto yours.“Do you taste that sweet naturally?” Your breath came out in a huff“No! It’s a new candy the general store has stocked; I put it in my coffee.” You gestured to your empty coffee cup.“There’s a bowl of them on the table if you want.” Javier looked at the table and noticed the small glass bowl filled with candies wrapped in see-through, colorful wrapping.Javier unwrapped his arm from around you, boots thudding as he walked over and plucked a candy from the bowl.He had coffee occasionally but never took the time to sweeten it up. He dropped an unwrapped candy in the cup, watching it sink to the bottom.As Javier sat in the worn wooden chair, you started cracking eggs, and the pops and sizzle noises filled the air.“Ah! Mister Escuella, could you grab some more eggs for breakfast? I don't think I have enough for everyone's appetite.” You smiled sheepishly, putting $5 on the table before quickly turning to flip the eggs before they burned.Javier took a drink from his cup, humming at the taste and as an acceptance of your ask.The candy didn't melt much, and his coffee had cooled down a lot, allowing him to enjoy the flavor in his mouth.Javier made his way to the church doors. “I'll be back soon, Father (Name). Don't miss me too much!”A fuzzy warmth went up your body as the heavy doors shut behind Javier
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Your head throbbed painfully as beams of the rising sunlight shone around you.With a weary sigh, you reached into your pockets and retrieved the small glass bottle of tonic that Hosea had entrusted you with his usual kindness. The chill of the bottle contrasted sharply with the heat of embarrassment that spread across your cheeks—remembering last night’s hedonism.Sitting upright, you downed the contents swiftly, the liquid sliding down your throat with a bittersweet tang. Almost immediately, the worst of your headache began to relent, turning into a dull throb that pulsed like a drum.You realized you hadn’t fallen asleep in your room as you glanced around. The celebration of Sean's return had blurred the lines of your usual restraint, and you could feel a flush of shame creep over you completely as fleeting images of your less-than-graceful interactions with several men floated back to the surface.You buried your face in your hands, realizing you had made a fool of yourself in front of many people. You could only recall snippets—laughter, teasing remarks, and the rising warmth of the drinks coursing through you. The weight of your actions settled like a stone in your gut, nagging at you as you desperately tried to piece together the fragments of a night that had quickly spiraled.What you did begin to remember was Charles.You remembered falling asleep on his shoulder, but your head rested in his lap at some point during the night.You looked at Charles, seeing his head lulled to the side and a peaceful expression across his face as he remained asleep.You sighed and got up from the pew back, aching slightly from sleeping on the flat wood.You wanted nothing more than to lie back down and rest your head against Charles's lap until the weak drumming in your head completely disappeared.But the longer you wore your cassock, the more it felt like sandpaper against your skin. You needed to change out of it.The floor creaked under your steps, heading to your room, your eyes clenched shut. You had forgotten to close your curtains before you left with Kieran the day before.With squinted eyes, you shut the curtains. Slipping off your cassock, the cold morning air ran down your back, making you shiver.You sighed in relief. The heavier fabric fell off your shoulders, pooling around your feet. You leaned down, tugging at your clothing drawer, to pick up a basic brown button-up and a fresh pair of slacks. The ones you were wearing now smelled of campfire.The fabric of your button-up was cool over your arms and shoulders.You didn’t have the other things men usually wear with their outfits, like a vest, coat, or neckwear, because you are supposed always to wear your cassock. The closest you had was your collar piece.Slipping the firm white piece into your collar, you couldn’t help but smile. It served as a tangible reminder of your devotion, a connection to your vows that felt both distant and steadfast; even if you fell apart in the hands of the men around you, this was part of you that held the vows.As you stepped gingerly out of your room, trying to avoid the creaky floorboards, you noticed Charles stirring softly in his sleep. You felt a wave of weariness wash over you, and the urge to wake him was strong, yet you resisted it, not wanting to shatter the peacefulness that enveloped him.With each step you took, you felt the remnants of your headache fading, replaced by a gentle sense of calm as you let your gaze linger on Charles. The morning light filtered in through the stained glass, casting soft, fragmented patterns across his broad chest, illuminating the muscles of his arms and the scruff on his face that had yet to be shaved. There was something almost reverent in how he looked in the half-light, like a figure in an old painting.You stopped just a few feet away from him, taking in the soft sighs that escaped his lips as he slept. He looked comfortable, his expression unguarded, so different from how he usually carried himself."Charles?" you whispered.His eyelids flickered, and the deep brown of his eyes appeared from beneath the weight of his lashes. When he looked at you, there was a moment of silence. Then, his lips curved into a slow smile that softened the usually hardened lines of his face."Well, good mornin', preacher," he teased lightly, his voice rough with sleep. The warmth in his gaze made the room feel smaller and safer, like the two of you were in your world. “Please, I’m only a preacher on Sundays.”you laughed and smiled despite yourself, your nerves fading a little at the sound of his voice. "Did I disturb you?" you asked, though you could see that the discomfort of the pew hadn’t roused him—he had let himself drift away, lost in whatever quiet thoughts he'd had.“Nah," he said, pushing himself up slightly from his reclined position. His body stretched, a few pops of his joints filling the silence before he turned his eyes back to you. "But I reckon I could get used to waking up like that with you nearby."The heat of his words caught you off guard, making your pulse quicken. But you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away from him. "Charles…"His hand reached out instinctively, his fingers brushing against yours in an almost hesitant gesture. "You don’t need to say anything," he murmured, his voice low. "I understand."You weren’t sure what you wanted to say, if there were words to express it, or if you were allowed to in such a place. Your words only felt right with the coverage of the night.There was no need to rush this or force any explanations. "I’m just glad you’re here," you said quietly, your voice a gentle confession to the man who had slowly become everything you hadn’t known you were looking for.Charles smiled a full, genuine smile that reached his eyes. "Me too."“Would you like coffee? I’ll start cooking soon; maybe a cup would be nice.” Your voice was softer than your usual speaking tone.Truth be told, Charles never got to the coffee in camp soon enough before Abigail and Sadie had drunk half of it. The rest went to the other men in camp, who got to it right after the women.“Sure, I’ll take a cup.” You nodded and spun on your heel to the kitchen. Charles eyed your outfit before you disappeared behind the doorway.The smell of fresh coffee filled the air as you set the cups down on the wooden table in the kitchen. Charles was standing close by, leaning against the wall, watching you with a quiet intensity that made your heart beat faster.“Feel free to add whatever you like. I have some sugar, candy, and milk! Help yourself.” You readied a pan on the still-burning stove. It was a nice treat to dress up for a coffee. His eyes saw a glass bowl next to the sugar bowl. A pale blue wrapper sat discarded on the table next to your cup.The milk in his coffee made it about the same color as the ball of candy he eyed before dropping it in. The smell was lovely. You wouldn’t have guessed Charles would have such a sweet tooth, even if he had told you how much he enjoyed the pie you made the night before.The silence was comfortable as you cooked, and Charles savored the hot coffee."Oh, Charles! Would you mind grabbing me some eggs in town? I don’t think I have enough for everyone," you sighed, placing a five-dollar bill on the table."Sure, I don’t mind," he replied, smiling before you returned to cooking the eggs in the pan. Finishing the last of his coffee, the milky and caramel taste filling his senses, he hummed in bliss.You watched the eggs pop in the pan, lightly sprinkling crushed pepper and salt over the eggs. The scrap of Charles' chair against the floor didn’t draw much attention from you.What did grab your attention was his strong arms hugging your torso for a moment, hands moving to your hips before pausing momentarily.“I’ll be back soon, alright?” Your heart fluttered as a soft kiss was pressed to the crown of your head.As Charles pressed a second kiss, his hands pushed your hips forward, causing your back to arch lightly for a moment. He took in the sight as your mind went blank. There was a soft pat on your ass as Charles let go from holding you in said position.Charles' heavy steps left the room.Frozen in place, the eggs almost burning grounded you back in reality. The large wooden doors shut as your hand subconsciously went to your ass.There was a light crinkle from your pocket. Plucking out the culprit, you saw it was your $5. The odd reverse pickpocket confused you as you went back to flip each egg, shoving the five in your pocket again.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
You were very well equipped to cook for so many people. There was always too much left over when it was just you and Mickey. Having learned how to cook from the nuns, your only frame of reference for cooking was enough to feed a litter.While waiting for the eggs, you began preparing the potatoes. You cleaned the dirt off them, cut them into cubes, and fried them in oil.The first to arrive were the women. Mary-Beth and Karen’s conversation drifted through the door. The trio stood together outside for a moment, only catching the tail end of their exchange.“I just think you gotta stop putting on that hard act. People probably think you hate ‘em rather than enjoy their company,” Mary-Beth said, her voice soft but direct. Tilly hummed in agreement before adding, “Plus, you know the relationship they have? It ain’t real. Everyone knows it.”“I don’t think she knows,” Karen said, her voice heavy with sadness and a bit annoyed. There was a brief silence before the door groaned open.“Good morning, Father (Name)! What’s on the menu today?” Tilly skipped past the others, eager to break the moment of tension, while the two women whispered between themselves.“Good morning, Tilly. Bacon, eggs, and potatoes today! As always, the back room is open for you ladies. Sister Charlotte will be thrilled to see it being used again.” You smiled fondly at the thought of her, along with the other church members who visited on Sundays—or occasionally Wednesdays—but never stayed long after.They didn't need to stay, though. The church in Valentine's wasn’t a busy place, and it was easy to manage independently. However, keeping the church running day and night could take a toll.“That sounds lovely, Father (Name). I didn’t know others lived here with you.” For a moment, you frowned, realizing Tilly had no way of knowing you were alone, primarily at the church.“Well, it’s just me,” you replied. “The spare rooms are available for those in need, especially during the rainy season. Sometimes, floods leave visitors stranded for days.”“Ain’t that dangerous?” Tilly’s voice trailed off as she looked around the main room, her gaze shifting from the kitchen to the old fixtures. “All this fancy stuff here... you could get robbed.”“We don’t have much to steal,” you shrugged with a light laugh. “Unless you’re interested in dust bunnies and old knick-knacks! Father Gavin puts any money donated straight into the church’s bank fund.” You watched the potatoes begin to float in the oil, and there was a slight fizzing sound as they cooked.Tilly smiled, but a loud crash echoed down the hall as the conversation settled. Your heart jumped in your chest, and you rushed toward the sound.The door at the start of the hallway was slightly ajar.“What happened?!” you shouted before you could stop yourself. The panic in your voice was apparent—more from fear than anger.You found Mary-Beth and Karen standing in front of a shelf, its door on the floor beside it. The shelf had been here for years, its hinges long past their prime. But it wasn’t the shelf that caught your attention. The cup used for the blood of Christ lay shattered on the floor, pieces glittering in the light. Both women looked pale, their eyes wide at the sight of the broken relic.“I’m so sorry, Father (Name)! We—” Mary-Beth’s voice trembled as she quickly glanced at you.“Are either of you hurt?” you asked, trying to steady yourself. “I should’ve gotten rid of this old shelf.”You held out a hand to each of them, both women looking at you as though you had two heads. Karen was the first to take it, stepping carefully over the sharp shards of glass and splintered wood. Mary-Beth followed suit, apologizing profusely as she took your hand as well.“That cup must’ve been so expensive!” she exclaimed, eyes wide with concern. You waved a hand dismissively. “It’s only gold-plated! And honestly, your health is more important than any cup.”As you kicked the scattered shards of glass away, you closed the door with a soft click.“So, that cup ain’t worth much?” Karen asked, her voice sounding almost disappointed.Tilly whipped her head toward her with a sharp look. “Goodness, no! Keeping a pure gold cup like that in this town would be asking for trouble! I have spares in case it breaks.” You walked over to a cabinet beside the kitchen’s entryway.Opening the bottom door, you revealed a row of five gold-plated cups—each worth no more than a few cents. “Huh.” Mary-Beth hummed as she glanced between the two women, an odd expression crossing her face.“Well, if everyone’s okay, I’ll return to the kitchen!” You gave a quick bow, eager to return to the stove before the potatoes burned. “Feel free to use the activity room, as always!”You continued cooking as the men shuffled in. Most of them greeted you with a quick “Good morning” before settling into their usual spots, each finding their place without a second thought—just like the first time. The only difference today was Dutch hovering as you worked, Arthur leaning casually against the wall nearby, Sean’s incessant rambling filling any gaps in the air, and John taking your usual seat between Kieran and Charles.Dutch’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than usual. You could feel its weight, even with your back turned. You were used to Kieran's warm energy around you, even Javiers hawk eyes watching your every move.“How long have you been in this work, Father [Name]?” Dutch’s voice, smooth and sly, broke the silence. You glanced over, your stomach tightening as his gaze never left you, practically studying your every move.You smiled nervously, trying to keep your focus on the food. “Ah, well, I’m 40 now. I made the vow when I was 20.”Dutch leaned in slightly, his voice carrying just enough to flutter through you. “20 years without a little... pleasure? Sounds like a hell of a thing, Father. I couldn’t last two weeks.”Your face flushed, and you quickly looked down at the eggs, hoping the heat from the stove would swallow you whole. “No need for pleasure when there’s work to be done,” you muttered, trying to keep your composure.“No sex for 20 years?” Sean’s voice broke through, full of disbelief. “How do you manage that? Seems like a nightmare.”You cleared your throat. “Well, since I was a boy, I never really cared much for... those kinds of things,” you said, sounding hollow even to your ears. “I liked helping people. When I learned to read, I’d sit with my ma and read to her while she worked around the house... Or I’d be running around with my brothers, getting better at marbles.”Charles, Kieran, and Javier exchanged looks, and Hosea spoke up, placing his book down. “No fine lady ever caught your eye? Not even one?”Before you could respond, Dutch spoke again, his tone soft but laden with that same edge. “A man as handsome as yourself, Father [Name]? Surely there must’ve been someone... a lady who caught your attention.”You felt your cheeks burn again. “Well, there was one girl,” you said, trembling slightly. “She lived down the road, but I was already 16, working at the church. Nothing happened. My life was... different. Always has been.” The difference was that any normal man would’ve married her when she showed interest.Dutch’s smile grew wider, the teasing shifting into something almost predatory as he leaned closer. “Must’ve been quite the sight—you, all young and full of promise and no interest in a little fun?” His voice dropped, just low enough to shiver down your spine. You shut your eyes briefly, and images of the fool you became last night flooded your mind.You plated the last of the eggs in small piles of salted potato and bacon for the women in the other room. “I didn’t have time for... that,” you muttered, hoping the words would be enough to deflect.The church did keep you busy almost every hour. But it wasn’t like you didn’t have a chance at a personal life. It just slipped through your fingers before you realized what you were losing a grip on. Dutch didn’t back off. He stayed close, his breath barely warm on your ear as he spoke softly, “Maybe you just never found the right person to make you forget about the vows you made, hmm?”Your heart skipped a beat, and Arthur’s voice broke through, rough and dismissive, before you could find an answer. “Alright, that’s enough, Dutch. Leave the man be he's a priest, for god's sake.” Your hand reached for your rosary. Rolling the pale-colored beans in the pads of your fingers. Javier, quietly observing, pushed his chair back with a scrape. His voice was low but firm, eyes narrowing as he shot a quick look at Dutch. “Give it a rest. We don’t need to make Father uncomfortable over breakfast, yeah?”Dutch straightened up, a chuckle escaping him as he backed off slightly, though his smirk never wavered. “Oh, I’m just having a bit of fun with him,” he said lightly, but there was a noticeable edge in his voice that suggested he wasn’t entirely ready to drop it.Arthur shook his head, crossing his arms. “Yeah, well, maybe some of us don’t find that fun all that amusing.” It felt hypocritical for Arthur and Javier to call out Dutch’s teasing. They’d left you in worse states with their fun with you.Still intrigued by the conversation, Sean leaned forward, looking between Dutch and Arthur with a grin. “You two are a piece of work,” he muttered, but even he seemed to sense the moment had passed. You let out a breath, relieved at the intervention. Dutch stepped back, finally giving you a little space, though his eyes still lingered on you for a moment longer than was comfortable.“Well, Father, it seems I’ve been put in my place,” Dutch said with a sly grin, his voice still dripping with that quiet amusement. “But don’t think this conversation is over just yet.”You excused yourself and quickly walked down the hall to the activity room. Slowly creaking the door with a smile, you said, “Here's your food, ladies! If you want more, please let me know.” Each woman took a plate with a grin. Your offer felt like you were waiting on them hand and foot, and it was a nice change for them. Your hands were empty, and you reached for a framed photo on the small table in the room.It was a photo taken of you when you were 21. You were fresh-faced and had a stone-serious look. You wanted to smile for the picture, but each man and woman before you held such a stern expression that you did as well.When you returned to the kitchen, you fiddled with the frame, the cold metal heating up in your hands. Holding it out to Arthur as you started to plate the rest of the men's meals, the heat of Dutch’s gaze still lingered, and you couldn’t help but wonder how long you’d be able to push him away.Dutch spoke again, his voice a little softer this time, almost as if acknowledging the shift in the atmosphere. “What’s on your mind?”You didn’t look up as you replied, keeping your tone steady. “Nothing. Just thinking about the food, Dutch. Trying to get everyone fed before it gets cold.” You lightly added salt and pepper to the eggs, avoiding eye contact with the manDutch’s lips quirked up into a half-smile, the glint in his eyes betraying a knowing amusement. “Ah, always the dutiful one, aren’t you?” His voice was low, as though speaking only to you.There was always something magnetic about him, pulling you in without you even realizing it. You wanted to dig your feet into the ground. Stop this impure pull he had. The impure pull they all did.Arthur cleared his throat from the edge of the room as if sensing the conversation needed steering. “I’d say he’s damn good at what he does, Dutch. Best cook we’ve had, that’s for sure.” His voice was blunt, but there was a protective tone underlying it that you appreciated.Your eyes softened, and you looked at Arthur with a smile. Arthur looked at the photo, nodded, a small smile dancing on his lips for a moment before becoming stern again, and passed it over to Charles, who took a much longer look.“How old were you in this one?” His low voice was only for you as you placed his plate of eggs in front of him. “I'm about 21 there. First full year living in Valentine! I think you can see it in my eyes.” you laughed, grabbing more plates for the rest of the men.Dutch’s eyes narrowed for a second, and he seemed to weigh something in his mind, his expression shifting to one of contemplation. “You’re right, Arthur. I’ve always appreciated a man who knows his way around the kitchen. Makes life easier for the rest of us.” You were pulled back into the larger conversation, seeing Charles pass the photo to Javier and John.You could hear the sincerity in his voice now, but it didn’t entirely erase the undercurrent of teasing. The serving plates were placed in the middle of the table as you turned to pass out the plates with two eggs each.Kieran got an extra egg under his two; you didn’t want the favoritism to be too blatant. Sean took a piece of bacon off the serving plate despite his plate being placed before him.“Wow, look at you. Have you only started smiling recently?” John's voice was a bit scratchy, his eyes squinting at the photo. Charles had begun to serve himself as well as Kieran and Hosea.“Just how everyone else was taking their photos! I wanted to smile but just didn’t end up working out.” You held plates to Arthur and Dutch, the only two not sitting down.Sean leaned over the table to stare at the photo with Kieran. “Makes ya look real professional, like a big boss!” You waved a hand, taking a small potato cube from the serving plate and popping it into your mouth.“I think you aged quite nice, not a day over 30.” Kieran's mouth was full as he spoke, his eyes shining as he admired you now and you in the photo. “I’ll say, could’ve been a real heartbreaker! Maybe it's good you took that vow and saved hundreds of women from falling all over you.” Hosea laughed, putting more potatoes on his plate than anything else.“You’ve all got a serpent's tongue!” You laughed, letting the heavy energy Dutch brought in a roll off of your back. “Kierans, just trying to butter you up for more food,” Javier said, nodding to Kieran, who, sure enough, Kieran was already eyeing the serving plate again.As the laughter filled the room, you felt yourself relax. Each man's mouth was now too busy to speak. John seemed the most beside himself, eating almost as fast as Kieran.Arthur’s voice broke through the blunt noise with that familiar rough edge. “Father,” he said, his tone a little lighter now, “you’re damn good with this food. Best cooking I've had in a lifetime. I reckon we’re spoiled with every meal you make.”You gave him a grateful smile as you placed another plate before him. As you were aware, this was his first time trying your food. “Glad to hear it. I try my best.”Javier leaned back in his chair, eyeing you with a playful glint. “Best cook and humble, too,” he teased, raising an eyebrow. His hand brushed against yours as you handed him his plate.Across the table, Sean was grinning, clearly enjoying the light-hearted exchange. “Well, looks like I’m next for some of that charm, Father,” he said with a wink. “Any chance ya could save a piece of bacon for me?” You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Sean, you’ve got no shame, you know that?”“I prefer to think of it as confidence,” Sean shot back, his grin never fading as he snatched a piece of bacon off the serving plate. “But hey, I’m just sayin’, if you need someone to help with that second helping, I’m your man.”You glanced at him, shaking your head but feeling that familiar flutter in your chest. Kieran, who had been quietly eating, looked up at you with an endearing smile. “He’s not wrong,” Kieran added, his voice warm. “I’d be happy to help you if you have too much left over.” You couldn’t help but laugh at how casual Kieran was about his offer, his grin soft but filled with genuine affection. “I’m sure you would.” You almost felt inclined to press a kiss to the man's head. A thought that made you nervous.Hosea, who had been enjoying the quieter moments of the conversation, gave you a warm smile.“You’ve been makin’ us all feel spoiled, Father,” he said, his voice calm and sincere. “A meal like this? Doesn’t come around too often.”You smiled back at him, grateful for his quiet appreciation. “I enjoy cooking for all of you. It’s nice to see everyone eating well.”Arthur shifted in his starting position, noticing the moment of warmth. His gaze softened, and he cleared his throat before speaking again. “You do more than that, Father,” he said, his voice lower and more earnest than usual. “We owe you more than a meal.”The sincerity in his words made your heart skip a beat. “You don’t owe me anything, Arthur,” you replied, trying to brush off the compliment, though the weight of his words lingered.Charles leaned in from the table, his voice light and teasing. “If you’re tryin’ to get Father to blush, Arthur, you’re doing a fine job.” Thankful most of the teasing died down; you had to make a few more eggs for yourself and whoever wanted extras.“Any plans for today?” you glanced around the room, taking a bite of your still-warm food. Most of the men shook their heads or shrugged. Arthur mentioned going to the saloon later in the day.“I have to clean out that old storage room. Everything is just collecting dust in there.” Hosea put his plate in the sink, joining you in leaning against the counter. “Would you like some help? I’d love to look at any old things in there.” You nodded quickly, covering your full mouth with your hand as your voice came out muffled.“Oh please, Mister Matthews, would you? I’ve been avoiding that room for years!”Hosea smiled, a puff in his chest at the attention you showed him. Most of your food was gone now, and all the men had finished eating by now, just standing around.When you finished your food, idle conversation began between the men. You lead Hosea to the room, warning him of the broken glass on the floor. The room wasn’t large, but it was a decent size under the crates of donated items and old furniture. You opened the lid of a large crate, seeing it was full of women's clothes. Hosea took the lid off of a separate crate. “I’ll take these to the women! I’m not sure it is in style, but maybe they’ll like something here.” You grunted as you lifted the crate, taking quick steps to the room a few feet away.“Hi, ladies! I’m cleaning out that old storage room and found some old donated clothes. Would you like to go through them?”Mary Beth immediately stood up, placing her book down with a soft thud. "Oo! Of course," she said, her eyes lighting up with curiosity. As she joined you, she reached for a soft blue skirt, holding it up to herself with a delighted laugh. "It’s been a while since I had something new to wear."You turned to leave the room, but something about the quietness outside made you pause. Soft murmurs drifted from the storage room, enough to catch your attention."What on earth is this even for?""Did they use this?""This carving is real nice…"Curiosity nudged you to step back into the room, where every man stood a little too still. Most of them avoided eye contact or blushed faintly. You raised an eyebrow, wondering what they’d discovered."Is everything okay in here, men?" you asked, trying to peek over their shoulders. "What did you find?"Kieran turned toward you, holding up a thick, dark wooden paddle. "Uh, Father (Name), what’s this for?" he asked, his voice a little more tentative than usual. The paddle was worn, its surface rough, but most striking was the word "sinner" carved boldly into the wood, raised and permanent. “Kind of crazy shit you got going on here?” Johns's hands were on his hips, eyeing you over.Your eyes widened as recognition hit you like a slap. "That…" you stammered, trying to find the right words. "Well- It’s not mine!" You eyed John back, realizing his accusation toward you. His weight shifted from hip to hip, not backing down from your look.You held out your hands to take the paddle from Kieran, your fingers grazing its weight as you examined it. A flood of memories rushed back. The former bishop had been cruel, intent on ruling through fear rather than faith. You flipped the paddle over, tracing the whittled handle."This was his," you muttered. "He used to carry it everywhere, threatening to use it on anyone who stepped out of line." You paused, steadying yourself. "He made it himself long before any of us were walking the earth."The men stood in rapt attention, their gazes fixed on you as you ran your hand over the paddle’s edge, lost in the memories. "I could’ve sworn I burned this years ago," you continued, your voice quieter now."I remember him chasing me with it when I dared to speak out about how cold he was." A shiver ran through you, recalling how your lungs burned as you ran across town, hiding in the stables. "I’ve never run so fast in my life."Charles cleared his throat, his voice low. "Did he ever land a hit?" It was a blunt question that had been on everyone’s mind.You winced slightly at the memory. "Once, yes," you said quietly. "I’d gone to the river to wash up, and he caught sight of me. Accused me of trying to tempt folks. I was miles away from town, but that didn’t stop him." You felt a bitter tightness in your chest. The word ‘sinner’ burned into your back every time you moved for weeks, every time you changed shirts. “Sometimes I can still feel the ache.”As the men digested the story, a dark silence fell over the room, but you shook your head to dismiss its weight. "An evil man," you murmured. "We had a real celebration the day he left. Some church in Rhodes offered him a job, and we were so happy to let him go."You pointed to a painted portrait hung up in the room, “That’s him right there. The vain man couldn’t stop bragging about how he was painted, and we were photographed.” You rolled your eyes, looking at the painting. “What an ugly bastard! No wonder he was so mean. Mad at the world for lookin’ like tha’.” You laughed at Sean's honesty. He was an ugly fool to look at.“Tell me about it; I’m sure that box is full of the old things he left behind.” You stepped closer to the crate, seeing a few shirts and other odds and ends. Hosea pulled out an old, dusty journal from the crate and gave a sympathetic nod. "Good riddance, then. Sounds like he left behind more than a few scars, but at least you got some peace when he was gone."You nodded, feeling the weight of his words but smiling despite yourself. "Peace, indeed."Charles poked through the crate and pulled out an old pocket watch. "Well, there’s some interesting stuff here, huh? This could fetch a decent price in town.""Don't get too excited," you warned, stepping closer to see what he was looking at. "Most of this stuff is probably just old junk, but who knows, we might find something worth keeping." as more boxes were opened, you told much happier stories of the church's past. Most things that couldn’t be saved were shoved into one crate to be given to the wagon that passed through town to take the trash to be dealt with outside of city limits. An old couch was under a few paintings; you huffed, wiping your brow of sweat.“Well, I must thank all of you men; you are all very kind to help with such a boring task.” You leaned back into the sagging cushions of the old couch, your fingers absently tapping the armrest. The men moved around the room, occasionally slipping small items into their pockets—things you didn’t need if they had been here for so long and never were looked for.“I must warn you all that it's going to get hazardous living where you are soon.” You sighed, your shoulders dropping as you leaned your head back against the couch, the soft creak of the furniture beneath you almost too loud in the quiet room. You rubbed your temples, trying to shake the unease building inside you.“Last year, we had such a terrible storm. The town was flooded.” Your voice softened, and you couldn’t help but glance down, your hands folding tightly in your lap. "They say we will have another just like it." The thought made your chest tighten. You couldn't shake the image of people you’ve met caught in the same chaos, and your heart ached for them.“We have spare rooms here. You could come by the night before it starts,” you suggested, standing up with a slight frown as if the offer could somehow ease your growing concern. You paced a few steps, trying to convince yourself everything would be fine.“I, uh, understand the situation you men are in. But there's no need to worry; most folks in town hardly step out when it's raining so hard. You won't be seen.” Your gaze lingered on them for a moment, and you offered a shaky smile, though the worry in your eyes was hard to mask. You tried to stay calm, but the looming storm made everything uncertain.“How long till this storm?” Kieran asked, his voice cutting through the tension. You glanced out the window, feeling an unease in the air. The sky was still clear, but you knew better. That bright blue would be swallowed by dark clouds soon enough.“I’d say a week,” you murmured, voice low. “You’ll see it in the coming days. Gets so dark over here.” The thought of that suffocating gloom was unsettling, and you instinctively rubbed your arms.“You all don’t have to come here; even the hotel is more than fine to take you all in.” You kicked your foot nervously as you spoke, hoping your words didn’t sound too forceful. "I would hate for you to fall ill or get hurt in the storm." You turned back to them, trying to meet their eyes, but the worry in your chest wasn’t going away.“I'm sorry for my behavior. It's just that last year was so bad.” You sighed and shook your head. “I’d love to show you all the rooms. Check if there is enough space for everyone.”Hosea and Dutch nodded, and you walked out of the room. “So! The storage room can fit at least five. I know the girl likes the activity so that they can stay there with space for two more.” It felt odd walking without the cassock on. You liked the flowy fabric around your legs; you felt slightly exposed without it.You made your way to the hall across from the church. “Of course, my room is open. I'm sure I can take one or two people.” You tried to think of more ways to accommodate people comfortably. “I can also give you and your wife my room, Dutch. I’ve slept in the pews many times before!” When you glanced at the two men, Dutch gave you an odd look, and Hosea's eyes were wide.“Molly ain’t my wife.” Dutch’s voice was stern, eyes squinting as he said it.“Oh! My apologies. You two just seemed very sweet on each other.” You were nervous at his defensive tone. “My fault for, um, assuming.” You turned back around, leading the men down the hall.“Three rooms here can fit about 4-5 men comfortably! There are a few cots and bed rolls. In the rooms.”“I think this will work perfectly. The hotel would charge us plenty for so many people to stay.” Dutch nodded at Hosea's words. “Well, we will have to go and let the rest know; plus, it's about time we get out of your hair, Father (Name).” Dutch checked his pocket watch and glanced at the entryway of the church.“I do enjoy the company! But lives are meant to be lived!” you stepped out of the hall and into the church's main room. “I’ll be here.”The men had begun to file out, and you waved goodbye. The women also left with arms full of clothing and wide smiles on their faces. The church was silent once again. You looked at your clock: 11:30. It was a good amount of time to make pie crust and go through any mail you had.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
The confessional bell rang through the quiet church, its chime echoing softly against the stone walls. You glanced at the clock on the wall, noting that it was hardly past 3:30 p.m., Arthur had never entered the confessional this early afternoon.It was perfect timing, as the pies you were making for dinner were ready to be set out to rest. You wondered who might come and speak to you at this time. You wandered into the central area of the church, taking a deep breath before opening the door and sitting down.“Good afternoon, my child; what brings you here?” You set your bible on your knee.“My lady is a queer.”Oh! Well, this is not the first time this issue came into the booth“But I am, too.”Ah….yeah, this was new.You took a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind in your mind. The booth's dim light felt heavy, and the rough voice cut through the haze of conversation again.“It's making me spend less time with her and our kid, who I doubt is mine,” he grumbled. The words hung in the air, and you couldn’t help but feel a groan bubble in your throat. This topic was your least favorite to talk about in the booth. It often felt like a convenient excuse for some men to dodge the responsibilities that parenthood demanded.You shifted in your seat, feeling the wood against your back. “Well, you doubt the child is yours, which is one thing,” you replied, your voice steady despite the discomfort, “butyou must have some love for the child to hold out hope.”The man grunted, his expression unreadable in the shadows of the booth even if the screen was gone. “I guess so… I thought you’d focus on the queer thing more,” he said, his tone hinting at frustration. You rolled your eyes.“Well, sir, is that what you would prefer I focus on?" you shot back, not letting your slight irritation show in your voice. You could hear the faint sound of him scratching his beard, a raspy noise that felt intrusive. It was a simple action, yet it drew your concentration.“We both have these tendencies to seek company in others. It is an unsavory sight to see the woman you love kissing another woman. Just as bad to see your husband kissing another man,” the man's voice trailed off as he spoke.He spent a long time thinking about this, at least you assumed with his admittance of his adultery. “There must have been some love between you two to do the process of making a child.” “What are you, a teenage girl? Love isn’t required for it,” the man scoffed. You felt your face heat up out of embarrassment and anger. You took a deep breath in.“I’m not sure what you want from me, Sir. All I can tell is if you want to be there for the boy, be there. Yours or not, he’s a boy who needs a dad.” You faced the screen of the booth.“Being queer doesn’t mean you cannot be a father.” Silence in the booth again. “You don’t have to be Father of the Year now. But buy the boy a book! Get him a toy or something.” You felt bad for being so aggressive. But there was something about this man’s voice that made you tick. “Yeah, I guess.” This seemed to be the best you’d get from this man. How stubborn.WaitOh god“Do I have to come back and update you? " John's genuine confusion made you want to laugh, not at him but at the situation.“You do not have to,” your smile creeping into your voice. “You absolutely can if you’d like.” The Bible on your lap felt heavier now, “Forgive my earlier aggression. Paternity is a conversation I’m not fond of in the booth.”John let out a huff from the other side. “It’s not one I like much in my life either, but you know how life is.” There was a shift in his tone, something more vulnerable now. “You still seem fond of her,” you gently probed.You could hear him shift in his seat, “You still call her your lady.”“She never liked pet names much,” John replied, his voice softening momentarily, nostalgia creeping in. “But ‘Lady’ made her feel like a princess.”A quiet warmth flooded the booth. You shifted your weight again, adjusting the Bible on your lap. “And you noticed that. Isn’t that in itself love?”There was a moment of stillness before John replied, his voice low and uncertain. “What?” You sighed softly, feeling the weight of his confusion. “Love is to notice and to be noticed.” A long silence followed, and you could feel the weight of his thoughts pressing in on the other side of the booth. You had given him the space to think; now, it was his turn to decide what to do with it.“I guess you’re right,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, as though the words were hard to admit. John spoke for a bit longer, telling small stories and complaining of nightmares that led him to fall asleep late into the night, to wake up an hour later restless.When John stepped out of the booth, you waited a moment before leaving. Hearing the groan of the church doors, you pushed open the confessional. You didn’t want it to be awkward and run into each other like he hadn’t opened up plenty just moments before.It was still early in the year, so the sun was beginning to set. An orange hue washed over the kitchen. The pies were just about set to eat when dinner started in an hour or so. You tried to come up with ideas for dinner. You needed something new but not too difficult.You slipped on your coat as you left the kitchen. Late January was frigid in Valentine despite being much warmer than the mornings that could bite your skin.Maybe chicken? You had two loaves of bread that would go bad in three days; maybe walking around the general store would give you proper ideas.The walk to the general store was short when you spotted Arthur and a young man on horseback. The young man elbowed Arthur when he spotted you. You couldn’t hear what was said, so you waved with a smile.“Good afternoon, gentlemen!” The mud gathered around your boots; a squelching noise followed your steps.“Good Afternoon, Father (Name)! We haven’t met,” the man said, crawling down his horse and holding your hand.“I’m Lenny Summers.” You shook his hand, a very firm handshake. What a respectable young man.“As you know, I’m Father (Name); nice to meet you, Mister Summers.” Your hands let go as Arthur finished hitching his horse. “Yeah, Arthur’s told me all about you.”“That so? All good things, I hope!” You chuckled nervously. You were sure it wouldn’t be the more…intimate things Arthur would share, but the fear still nipped at you.“Very good things! I’ve heard you're quite a cook; what Pearson makes is rotten!” You chuckled. You’d heard a few times about this other cook not being as good, but you were sure it was just a bit of hyperbole.“If you two want something to eat, please stop by the church for leftovers!” You waved the two men bye as they walked into the saloon. Stepping up to the general store, you were greeted with a half smile as you looked around.You looked over the cans, mostly fruit and baked beans when you heard the shopkeeper speak. “Looking for anything specific?”You put your hands in your pocket, mindlessly playing with the inside fabric. “Yes, I have some leftover bread and can feed about 10 people, give or take.” The shopkeeper looked surprised at the number but started looking at the shelves himself.You shifted from foot to foot; the floorboards squeaked under you. “Maybe some cheese?” Cheese and bread sounded simple enough, filling with the chicken you planned to buy. “Try melting it between the bread and some butter; it's like nothing else I’ve had before.” The shopkeeper held out a wrapped block of cheese. The bright orange color could beseen through the thick paper as the light hit it. You put $5 on the counter and were going to pick up the chicken from the butcher.—— (I am lazy)You mixed minced garlic and onions in melted butter and brushed it onto the raw chicken breasts. Your eyes still burned slightly from cutting the onions, and the fresh cracked pepper burned your nose, leaving you a bit hazy as you placed the large baking dish in the oven.You heard quick footsteps approaching the church, washing off your hands. When you turned to the door, you saw Sean practically breaking down the door.“Father! Good afternoon to you; I need you to settle a bet.” Sean pulled you by your hand to your room.“I’m no betting man, Mister MacGuire.” You glanced at the oven. The chicken would take a bit to cook all the way through, but it still made you nervous to take your eyes off it.“I know it goes against whatcha stand for, but ya gotta confirm something to me.” The door clicked shut behind the two of you. You stared at Sean for a moment, a big smile onhis face as he stared, hands on his hips and chest puffed up.“I need ya to take yer pants off.” His gaze remained fixed on your face, studying the subtle shifts in your expression like a painter contemplating a canvas. “I’m sorry!?” You instinctively stepped back from Sean, your spine pressing against the cool wall behind you. A sudden sense of vulnerability washed over you.“Okay, maybe not ‘off,’ but I’ve gotta see what you’re hidin’!” He leaned slightly forward, an eager glint dancing in his eyes like he was anxious to unwrap a long-awaited gift.“You don’t ‘gotta’!” You emphasized the word with exaggerated finger quotes; your voice tinged with anxiety. Inside, your stomach churned.“Truth be told, Father, I don't think ya understand tha’ need most men have for ya.’ Sean’s pale hands reached for your hips, toying with the edge of your belt. “What does that have to do with your bet, Mister MacGuire?” Your face was burning hot, trying to think. “It’s got everythin’ to do with it! You’ve got half the brutes at camp dizzy for some love.” Sean pressed a kiss to the stiff collar of your shirt, moving his hands to pull it down, pressing wet kisses into the skin. “They all mention ya twice in a conversation.”Your eyes screwed shut, your neck being more sensitive than you thought it would be. Soft sighs escaped you as Sean kept the soft but sloppy kisses against your neck. His hands felt up your sides, slightly tickling you. “Who was the first to get to ya’?”Well, that depends on what he meant by getting to you. Arthur was the first to meet you, but each ‘first’ seemed to go to a new man each day. Sean lost interest in the question as his hands trailed down past your belt, squeezing your thighs.“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Sean pulled away, no longer pressed against you. You almost whined at the loss of contact, peeking your eyes open to see Sean on his knees, face a few inches from your hard-on.His eyes shining as he looked up at you. You've seen hundreds, maybe thousands of men in this position. Par for the course when it came to your job but now, you were nervous. Unable to look him in the eyes“It’s jus’ not fair.” Sean’s face nuzzled against your growing hard-on, kissing it through the fabric. “Shouldn’t be allowed to be blessed both ways, ya know.”Your eyes watered as Sean traced the outline with his finger, eyes not leaving it once. “Blessed?” Your arms were glued to your side, unmoving at the attention. “That ol bastard is right, you’d be breaking hearts and beds with this one.” Your mind raced, always with Sean. Did you learn something new about things you’ve never thought twice about?Sean’s hands untucked your shirt, lifting the thin fabric to admire your stomach. He kissed above your belt buckle, your skin being so silky under his lips that he just wanted to eat you alive. Your hands finally moved, tucking into Sean's bright hair for stability.“Be careful askin’ the others for this. Tha English take a big issue with this sorta fun.” Your hands held Sean’s copper hair firmly, not pushing him away or pulling him forward but just having him in place. No time to think about his wordsIf the slacks you wore weren’t so dark, you were sure the wet spot on your pants would be evident from the kissing and licks over the fabric. Your hips bucked into Sean's mouth; you’d only recently just kissed someone. This felt like you were moving a bit fast and way too much for a man of the cloth. You groaned as the thought made a pit in your stomach form.The touch was muffled, and you could hardly feel a thing, slight wetness and the pressure of his tongue and kisses. But the sight alone made you feel weak like you were floating. His lips wrapped around the bump of your clothed cock head strained against your pants. Sean spread his legs a bit, pressing into your calf as he shuffled closer.The only sounds were your breathing. Heavy sighs bounced off the walls, Sean's mouth too busy to speak.Sean whined as your hands took a firmer hold on his hair, pulling him away from the ache in your pants. “I never met a man to push a willin’ mouth away-” Covering Sean's mouth, you heard it, really straining your ears.Footsteps.“Father (Name), you have mail! And a few guests!” Father Gavin's excited voice broke through the silent air. Behind the thick wooden door, his voice was hard to hear. “One moment, please!!” Your fingers quickly worked your button-up, slipping the collar from its place as you slipped the shirt off your arms.Sean's eyes were wide as he watched you; his cock twitched seeing you undress so fast. “Not sure what we can get done so fast, but I like yer style!” Sean started to lift his shirt off, and in a panic, you lifted your leg. Sean fell back with a mix of a moan and a groan in pain, curling into himself as you slipped on a cassock. The fabric flowing around you hides the evidence of your arousal.You reached for your firm collar. “Bit too aggressive fer me, love. Some warmin’ up would help.” Sean looked back at you with a slight frown, seeing you fully clothed and covered.“Please, you need to hide!” Your voice was full of panic as you pushed Sean toward the edge of your bed, lifting the frilly bed skirt that would completely cloak him. Sean hurriedly crawled beneath the fabric, his breath quickening with urgency as he disappeared from view.You took a deep breath to steady yourself, then opened the door to reveal a smiling Father Gavin, his kind eyes sparkling beneath the gentle light filtering into the room.“You’ve got mail from Strawberry!” he announced cheerfully, extending a cream-colored envelope towards you. The elegant script on the front caught your attention instantly. Strawberry? What on earth could they need from you?With curiosity, you tore open the envelope and pulled out a letter. “It’s from Mayor Timmins,” you said, glancing at Father Gavin, who leaned over to sneak a look as you unfolded the paper. The handwriting was neat and precise. You began to read. Mayor Timmins invited you to Strawberry to assist in constructing a new church. You pointed to a particular line in the letter, and Father Gavin's deep gaze followed your finger. His brow furrowed slightly in thought.“Well! Let me know how it goes!” he said, his voice warm and encouraging yet tinged with the weight of uncertainty. “I must head back! You know how the people get in Saint-Denis. I should be back by next tuesday.” He gave you a reassuring wave, lingering in the doorway like a comforting shadow before he left.You peeked over to the kitchen, seeing Charles and Javier chatting at the table. Dutch and Hosea sat side by side in the pew closest to the kitchen, just sitting.You shut the door again, walking to your bed. “You can come out now, Mister MacGuire. I apologize for the rush. It wouldn’t have looked good for us two to be alone here.” Sean rolled out from under your bed with a big grin.As Sean stood, he pressed a kiss on your cheek. “I’ll save ya the embarrassment, love.” Your eyes followed Sean’s body as he opened your side window above your bed and hopped out. Landing in the grass with an ‘oomph.’You waited for your body to calm down fully. You picked up a rosary from your shelf, and an awful feeling settled over you. There was a ghost of feeling over your still aching cock, like Sean was still there.God would have his judgments of you, but you’d have to deal with that once you reach the end of your time. Your main worry was the eyes awaiting you just outside your door.Maybe they wouldn’t even notice? How could they even know in the first place? You smoothed out the skirt of your cassock, and each man’s eyes were immediately glued to you. “Good afternoon, gentlemen! Uh, I'm making something new for dinner..!” Hosea turned to look at you with a smile, saying he knew it would be lovely.You walk to the kitchen and nod to Javier and Charles. Finally, you see Kieran sitting across from them and playing with a small box in his hands. You crouched to check the oven for a few more minutes before cutting the chicken into slices and placing the pies back in for warmth. You grab your apron and tie it around your waist, clockwork as usual.“What kind of pies did you make?” Charles spoke as you began to cut the loaves of bread.“Well, I made peach again and apple pie as well! Are the girls here?” You glanced backward, still trying to make eye contact occasionally.“Nah, Grimshaw made a big scene about them being gone in the morning.” Javier toyed with his knife, twisting it between his fingers and admiring the shine.“Aw, those girls are so sweet. I’ll leave them some to the side for you boys to take him for them!” You were halfway through cutting the first loaf. Your lack of focus made each slice a bit uneven in size, but nothing too noticeable.Grabbing your trusty pan, you started toasting each slice, using a small pad of butter to avoid burning the bread and the softness from sticking to the hot pan. Once one side was golden brown, you flipped it and added a sliver of cheese, watching it melt before your eyes. Sean walked back into the church, bidding you a “good afternoon” before sitting next to Kieran and taking out a deck of cards.The fluttering sound of the cards being shuffled came from Sean, “Alrighty, ya sour face bastards, what's the pool lookin’ like tonight?” You turned around, hands on your hips. Sean froze midway through, passing out the cards. “UH. I meant, who's up for a family-friendly game o’ cards?” You nodded, turning back around. The men began to play and chat, making the cooking process go much faster.Once the pies were removed from the oven, the room was filled with the delightful smell of chicken and garlic. You slightly snuffed the flame, not wanting it to burn.The bread was coming along well. You could use more of it by adding the chicken slices to make a sandwich. Adding a handful of mixed berries, you admired the plate with great pride before setting the first one down in front of Kieran.His eyes lit up, and he practically dropped his cards. Before he went to grab half of his sandwich, he held out the small box to you. The box was your favorite color, with a soft white ribbon around it.“What’s this, Kieran?” You untied the bow and opened the box. It was a small wooden figure of a horse. The closer you looked, the more you realized the marks on it were the same as your horse!“Aw! Thank you, Kieran! This must have taken you hours.” The small model of your horse was smooth to the touch. While not hyper-realistic, the simple features were like achildren’s book.You hugged him, unintentionally pressing his head into your chest as you thanked him again. When you let go, his face was dusted in bright pink, and he stuttered out, ‘You’re Welcome.’ The wood color was the same tone as your horse.“How precious is it?” You held the small figure to Hosea and Dutch, who entered the kitchen. They both squinted at the figure before nodding with an approving look. Your hand lingered on his back before going back to prep more sandwiches.You’d have to work on serving them all simultaneously to save poor Kieran from the sharp stares that would kill him if they could. You waited to set up your food, preparing three sandwiches for Mary-Beth, Karen, and Tilly. Though they spent time in the activity room, knowing they had a space just for them was something you were happy to provide.As each man ate, you couldn’t help but stare. Your worries didn’t have time to bubble as Dutch spoke, " Now this is just perfect, Father (Name).” He pointed to you, his rings catching the light, “Don’t change a thing about it.” But it was like every other man was in a trace, only nodding as they ate.When you finally ate, you thought the food was lovely. Maybe it was not to the other men's taste. The chicken wasn't dry as you took another bite, savoring the taste. There was a slight cheese pull as well. A small frown took over your face; maybe you were getting too used to praise and were developing an ego.But truthfully, each man hadn’t felt more attracted to you than right now. To make something so good on a random afternoon. Something made with so much love and care given to them like it was nothing. They all wanted to get their hands on you and give you a proper thank you for the food. Their thoughts ran wild at the images in their mind.Kieran was the first to ask for extras, as he usually was. His plate is almost empty, except for a few untouched blueberries sitting forlornly on the edge. “Not a fan of blueberries, Kieran?” you inquired, glancing at him while you prepared two more slices of toast.He hesitated, his eyes darting away from the berries, almost as if he was concerned that his preference might hurt your feelings. “No-no, they're okay, just not my favorite,” he replied, his voice tinged with an apologetic tone.You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, popping a berry into your mouth, relishing its sweet burst. Kieran’s worry revealed how much he cared about your opinion. As the smell of toasting bread filled the kitchen, you decided to tease him a little. "Well, that's more for me than!" you said playfully, reaching for another berry. This brought a small smile to his face, easing the tension.As you began assembling the next sandwich, idle chatter started again. "How's about I drop the pies off at camp for you all? The fresh air would do me some good. You gave Kieran his second sandwich, which he quickly dug into. You placed the pies in a picnic basket, which was bound to keep them warm during the ride.The ride to horseshoe outlook was much shorter when you weren't hung over. You had gone ahead of the group, sticking with Kieran, not to seem suspicious for such a large group moving simultaneously to the same place. Being the first two to arrive, you called Kieran over, "I do love the horse you gave me, Kieran." You kissed Kieran’s cheek, a smile on your face at his flushed face. You started to get off of your horse slowly. The basket being a decent size.Kieran couldn't have felt more on top of the world. The feeling of your kiss lingered heavily on his cheek as he made his way into camp. Nothing could've taken his mood down.But here came Bill.The sounds of Kieran screaming in fear made you quickly get off your horse. You left the food on the back of your saddle, nearly falling off. “Quit it! This ain't funny!!” Kieran screeched. Your body moved on its own now, feeling nothing but the urge to help Kieran.“Oh, I disagree! Why are you so afraid of gelding tongs? I thought you were the horse expert!!” The voice was strange, whiny yet gruff.“Yer not right in the head!!” Kieran was pinned to the floor by a large man holding red-hot tongs. The larger man began to laugh, bringing the tongs way too close to Kieran's body. A pit in your heart formed and everything seemed to slow down. The terror on Kieran's face, trying to shove the man off him. No one around seemed to be helping so you had to do what was right. Your hand twitched.Your boot came crashing down on the man's side, the heel digging into his skin as he fell off of Kieran. Your boot planted firmly back into the ground, and well, you didn't mean for your fist to land a punch into his cheek, but you supposed that's just how defending those you cared about went.Kieran only felt more horrified, his pants being yanked half way down his thighs by Bill, and you could very well see that fact. Both men scrambled to get up, get their bearings. Kieran pulled up his pants and Bill dropped the tongs as he stood.“You oughta have some damn respect for my Kieran!” the man began to stalk towards you quickly. Eyes full of anger, “YOUR? Kieran? What's that mean?” his voice was grating on the ears. Nasally but not half as lovely to listen to as Hoseas.He reached for your collar but you didn't back away, staying firm in your standing, like a fool.His hands hardly brushed against you before Charles shoved him back. “Bill! What the hell are you doing?” Dutch sounded angry before walking up next to you, taking hold of yourshoulder.“This! This man attacked me!” Bill tried to get at you again but Charles held an arm out, eyes looking over you for any scuffs or marks.“This man… attacked you?” Hosea helped Kieran stand. Dutch chuckled, “Oh, I’m sure the big scary Father (Name) attacked you, Bill.” You knew the truth, and so did Bill. Withholding information didn’t count as lying, right?You kept your mouth shut, making Bill angrier as he stormed off, yelling nothing understandable as he disappeared into the trees.You thanked Dutch and Charles, your attention drawn back to Kieran. Your hands felt hot against his face as you cradled him, checking over his body.“Aww, Kieran, are you okay? You didn’t hit your head, did you?” Kieran shot right back up to the world's top just like that. “Naw I’m fine Father (Name).”“Thank you, Charles and Dutch. I didn’t mean to cause any issues with you men.” Dutched waved a hand and told you that was just how Bill was.“Well, after I give the ladies their food I must be on my way. Good night, gentlemen!”Passing out the food to the three ladies was met with small cheers. Karen complaining about Grimshaw being an old crow and Mary-Beth and Tilly nodded as they ate. "Well I made some pie as well! I heard the men can get greedy with it, so please eat what you can while you can!" you laughed and unhitched your horse.You rode past Charles who was on guard duty. You were getting pretty tired. Time seemed to go by so fast recently.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Getting back into town, you saw Arthur and Lenny swaying very harshly. The sheriff's hot on their tail. “Father (Name)! How are ya?!” Lenny walked up to your horse, patting its side.The officers looked to you as both drunk men surrounded you. “You know these degenerates, Father?” Arthur was on the other side of your horse petting its mane and talking to himself.You sighed, “No…but um, what have they done?” The officer pointed to a shaky man next to them, who was doused in water and muddy. “Disturbing the public, sir. You could only imagine what had happened, especially knowing Arthur's fighting capability.Arthur's hands got closer to where you sat on your horse. He played with the balled-up fabric of your skirt.“Could I pay their bail? Sinners such as these should be stuck sweating in a church, then a jail cell!” You were speaking nonsense now. You didn't believe that, but Arthur's big smile, he looked at you with, made your heart melt. Hou couldn't you let them spend the night in jail if you could help it.“I suppose…” the sheriff gave you an odd look, “How is your wife, Sheriff? I think it's been forever since I’ve seen her!” you hitched your horse feeling the weight of both Lenny and Arthur lean against you.“The wife, she's fine, I suppose. Once you get those men settled, bring $20.” He babbled, seeming he didn’t want to speak about his wife…You led the two men up the church steps. They giggled and grumbled the whole way into one of the spare rooms. Then, as you left, they slumped into their beds to find two $10s and buckets.You rushed back into the room, not wanting the sheriff to wait long. Not wanting to take so long, he would take back his kindness in letting you bring them in.“Aw look at chu,” Arthur had gotten out of the bed, stumbling over his feet.“Hi Arthur, do you need water?” You tried to guide him back to the bed to lie down. Lenny was fast asleep, you made sure to have a bucket closer to each of their beds. With how drunk they were, you'd be surprised if they didn’t use them. You pulled a blanket over Lenny who started to snore.“I saw yew! Haaahaaa!” Arthur exclaimed. You attempted to shush him, worried that the noise would wake the passed-out Lenny. “We did see each other this morning! And now I’ll see you again tomorrow morning, alright?”“Naw! I saw yew with ugh,” he slurred, as you took off his hat and placed it on the small table in the room. “That Javier! And ugh, Kierannn.” Your body tensed, but Arthur quickly fell limp against the pillow. You sighed, pulling a blanket over him before taking your leave.The sheriff was waiting outside the church as you pulled out $20. “I don’t understand why you’re paying for these men you’ve never met, but that bounty hunter is good.” Bounty Hunter? You bid the man goodnight and locked the front door. You hardly ever did that in the past, but tonight it felt right, considering you had two drunk men tucked awayinside.You made your way back to your room. Quickly changing into your sleepwear and fixing yourself before bed. You had a body lotion that smelled of honey and oats. After a good lather, the door to your room was pushed open. The giggling told you it was Arthur, and the hands on your hips confirmed it. “Yew smell nicee.” You laughed, Arthur pressing his face into your neck to take in more of the scent. His accent was much heavier when drunk, which you thought was cute.“Thank you, Arthur. Did you-?” hands began to lift your sleep shirt. The fabric reaching past mid-thigh now showed plenty of skin for Arthur’s hungry eyes. “Whatchew got under this skirt fer me.” His throaty voice made you shiver, his hands trying to lift more and more of your night shirt.“Arthur!” You gasped and pushed his hands away. “We need to get you back to bed. You’re not in your right mind.” Were you like this when drunk? Maybe not so touchy but just.. out of it! Arthur wrapped his arms around you, taking you with him as he stepped backwards.“I wanna be in yer bed! It's…my turn withchu” Arthur pulled you to your bed. Landing on his back, he held you there. For being so drunk his strength did not waver. You squirmed against his hold but gave up once his breathing slowed. ‘His turn with you’ like a child with a shared toy. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but Arthur's body was so warm against you, you couldn't help but relax in his hold. At some point in the night Arthur had rolled over,leaving you both in a spooning position until the rising sun began to flood the room behind the thick curtains you had.~Arthur awoke with a groan, letting you go to hold his aching head in his hands. You began to wake up with a huff, but you were not yet sitting up. There was silence before a gasp broke the air. His mind raced, how on earth did he get here? He was sure he'd wake up in a cell with the sheriff being on his tail, but he was in your bed. He couldn’t have died and gone to heaven, that wasn’t in the cards for him with the life he lived. But there was no way you’d end up in hell next to him either.“Good morning, Mister Bounty Hunter.” You stretched and sat up. The sleep shirt you were in looked soft in the light as you turned to look at Arthur. “Did we uh do anything..?”Arthur's head pounded as he asked, unable to keep his eyes open because of the light. “No! All that’s happened is I got you and Mister Summers free from a night in jail.” Arthur nodded and slumped further into your bed.“Speaking of, I’ll go check on Mister Summers, he was worse off than you last night!” You crawled out of the warm bed, and Arthur watched as you left. Many of his memories began to flood back and he wished he could’ve just disappeared. You smell nice? Lifting your shirt to see if you had anything?! He felt so embarrassed to be a grown man acting like that.He wasn’t able to hear anything outside of the room as he kept thinking back, maybe a bit perverted, but he hoped the image of your thighs peaking out against your soft white night shirt would be burned into his mind forever. Arthur reached for his bag against the bed, pulling out a health tonic to ease his aching head and body.When you returned to your room, Arthur was still lying in your bed, but now he was on his stomach. “Well, Mister Summers is okay now, poor boy threw up.” You sighed and lifted your sleep shirt off. Having changed in front of Sean before made most of your shyness around changing go away, much to Arthur's delight.The more of your skin he saw, the less relaxed he felt. He couldn’t help but look at your back, where you had described your scar from the bishop. And maybe it was a trick of the light but even if the faint word ‘sinner’ were there in raised skin you’d never look more like an angel to Arthur.He wanted to reach out, feel you against his hands, hold you against him, and feel your soft skin on his chest.You slipped on your cassock, slightly spinning in the flowy fabric. “Well I’ll go start food. What’s your plan for today?” Arthur grunted.“Just gonna lay here for a minute. Feel sorry about myself.” You nodded and stepped out of the room. Arthur had to strain his ears to hear you walk away.This was bad, real bad. Being rock hard in another man’s bed with a dull headache wasn’t his favorite feeling.Arthur put his leg up, to take the pressure off his boner but it did just the opposite. The soft blanket gathered around his cock as he slowly thrusted against it. He was too tired to pull himself out for right now, to properly grab at his swelling cock head.He shouldn’t be doing this, but as your scent surrounded him, he held onto your pillow. Images of you flooding his mind. Sure he wasn’t first to kiss you, but seeing you get so shy with Kieran and Javier. That look you had, well he was glad he got that angle of you.His hips rolled, his jeans were rough against him but he just needed to quench the need.The needs of a disgusting sinner.Arthur knew you’d never say that. As much of a religious man you were, you've never seen you be disgusted with anyone. But he can’t help but wish you’d come back into your room. With that sweet look on your face, checking in on him again. Being so ready to tend to him, just to see him getting off in your bed. His mind couldn’t focus on which thought made him throb harder.If you’d shy away, but still be eager to please him, or finally be angry and punish him. Punish him for the teasing in the booth that never happened if you spoke about. That was a part of the rules anyway.The heat that surrounded his body could’ve been the depths of hell ready to take him and he’d gladly go. The pressure in his stomach was building, thinking of your body with each messy thrust.Headache be damned Arthur couldn’t get enough of the thought of you. Unzipping his jeans his cock sprang out from his underwear. The feeling of your soft blankets against him was mind-numbing.He held your sleeping pillow, pushing it under his torso but enough poke out from the top to shove his face in. His thrusting was jagged, and harsh. The last thing he’d want for you to experience if you were below him. Pretending the softness of your blankets was you he’d wouldn’t fuck you so messliy if he could help it.No, he wanted to be more smooth. And to be so gentle with you that it wouldn’t feel like it was just sex or just a sin to make you feel good for a moment. Arthur shoved his face into your pillow taking in the smell of you. Not just your lotion but you. Your skin, and your hair.Could he even control himself over you? Would your cries reach his heart or instincts to pull more out of you?His body ached for you as he flipped over to his back. Fisting his cock quickly, groaning freely, understanding now how thick the walls were. Arthur lifted the edge of his shirt, he didn’t want to ruin it with a stain that would tell a story of its own if he walked out with it.There was a twitch in his leg as he finally came. Warmth sputtered over his stomach as he sighed. His jaw clenched so hard he thought his teeth would’ve broken at the pressure.Clarity had begun to settle over him. Like a pervert all he needed was to picture you and to smell just your skin to get off like he hadn’t jerked off in a while. It was true he hadn’t, not enough privacy at camp with his open tent facing Charles and Javier who always stayed up late thinking no one else could see their shared affections.Reaching for his satchel again, Arthur pulled out a bandana. Not the one he usually wore for jobs but one he kept for an emergency. Cleaning off his stomach he sighed and watched his dick go soft before shoving it back into his pants.Pushing the spare bandana into his pocket, Arthur closed your door behind him.He liked to stare at you. Imagine that instead of everyone else being there, it was for a moment just the two of you. You two lived together, tucked away in a homely cabin where he could always return to you and you’d be there. Smile on your face and relaxed.And he would hold you in his arms, gently swaying you. You’d ask about his day and all he would have to say was “my day was fine.” Before showering you in affection. You’d laugh, sigh, and gasp as he can’t help but trail his hands across your body leaving kisses everywhere he could reach.You’d reluctantly push his head away, insisting he’d eat first after being out working all day. He’d tell you the food isn’t going anywhere and continue the flood of love.Arthur never settled down for long. The world was constantly changing, and it’s not like he’s had the most stable life. The constant moving was his stability. Hell, even in his fantasies, there was still that consistency of inconsistency. Arthur shook his head, walking over to the kitchen to see Lenny, half dead against the table.“So that was a quiet drink?” Lenny’s voice was muffled against the coffee cup he was taking a drink from.“The First one was pretty quiet,” Arthur mumbled. Lenny laughed, putting his head down against the cool wood.“I assume the two of you had fun last night!” Arthur wondered if Lenny had told you anything about the night before. And how much he’d say to you.“Well today is flapjacks! I wanted to do something easier for so many people.” You laughed and placed two plates on the table; both had three pancakes. You put a bottle of honey and maple syrup on the table. Lenny thanked you before slowly taking a bite. And Arthur didn’t mean to, but he dug right in. Using a decent amount of maple syrup.You had two pancakes of your own and slowly ate. It dawned on Arthur that he hadn’t seen you sit at the table to eat properly. You’d stand with him, Dutch and Hosea.“Father (Name), this is the best thing I’ve eaten in a long time.” You waved a hand to Lenny. " Please, Mister Summers. I’m sure it’s just because of the hangover!”Lenny shook his head “absolutely not!” You smiled such a sweet smile.Finally, when the other men began to arrive, you got up from your seat and went back to cooking.You waved over Charles and Arthur couldn’t hear your conversation.~“Mister Smith, could I ask you a favor?” Charles had his arms crossed casually when he leaned in to hear you. “Sure, Father (Name) what is it?”“With that storm coming in and so many of you, I’m hoping you could help me get meat.” Charles was delighted to be asked. He regularly did this for camp, giving Pearson perfect meat and game only to see it overcooked and watered down into nothing.But you? You'd at least use it to its full potential.“I’d of course repay you for it! Good work never goes without reward.” Charles stared for a moment. Well, he always stared, but he was getting ahead of himself right now.There was no way you meant that how he imagined. Those rumors about you running around with some hunter couldn’t be true, not with how shy you got with what he considered his sub par teasing from the night of the party.But what a nice thought that his prize would be you somehow.“Of course, I'll see what I can gather for you soon. I’ll go out two days before.” Charles' mind was set on getting the absolute best game he could. He wanted to impress you.~“Sorry, there isn’t much to eat today! I had trouble sleeping last night and wanted to keep things simple for this morning!” Hosea slowly chewed his pancake as he looked at you, sensing something more profound as you plated Kieran's and Javier's second serving, topping off a few cups of coffee. He walked over and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Is everything alright, Father (Name)?”Your eyes were heavy as you looked at him. “No, well, yes! Things are great; I just…” You glanced around the room, noticing no one was paying attention, and decided to confide. “I received an offer to visit West Elizabeth, but I’m unsure if I should go.”“Why wouldn’t you go, Father (Name)? The fresh mountain air could do you some good.” You cracked a smile; that's all Hosea needed. Plus, he did think you getting out some more would be good for you. Being cooped up in this church for too long would drive you crazy, he was sure.“We need to prepare for the storm, and I’m worried about meal arrangements, Mister Matthews. Who knows how long this storm will last!” You chewed on the edge of your thumb, focusing on anything but the others. His hand remained on your shoulder. “Father, why don't you leave tomorrow? Just give us a list, and we can handle everything.”Your body visibly relaxed. “Are you sure, Mister Matthews? I would hate to give you men so much extra work.”“Nonsense! Having to feed this spoiled bunch means you deserve a break. I give you my word; we’ll set everything up for you.” You leaned forward slightly, wrapping your arms around Hosea's torso in a firm hug. You felt warm against his chest, and your voice was soft in his ears as you whispered thank you. The warmth stuck to his body as you let go, and turned to announce your departure.Your arms around him felt like a tiny healing touch on his body. He could breathe clearer because of it.~“I have some bad news, gentlemen. I’ll be leaving soon for West Elizabeth! Or Strawberry, just for a day or so. So I’m very sorry for not having dinner today or Breakfast tomorrow!” Your hands are clasped in front of you, and you scan the room.“Well, take Arthur with you. We also have some business up there, which I'm sure you can help with.” Dutch whipped his mouth from the syrup that gathered on his lips. You wouldn’t have taken him for a man with such a sweet tooth.“If Arthur is okay with that, I’d love a friend for the ride!” Your smile was unsure as you glanced at Arthur. You couldn’t read his expression from how his hat hid his eyes, but when he agreed you jumped for joy.“Perfect! I’ll write you up that list, Mister Matthews, and we can be on our way, Arthur!” you nodded to both men before leaving your room. You’d need a thick coat for a place like Strawberry this time of year.You wrote a list of supplies needed for the storm, including where to find things around the church that were put away when not used and what canned goods would be best. When you returned, the room felt a bit tense. “Are you ready Arthur? If we leave now, we should be able to make it a few hours before sunset!” Arthur nodded and stood, chugging the last bit of his coffee.You passed the paper to Kieran who gave you a nervous look and gave it to Sean. Javier chuckled and Lenny promptly took the letter from Sean's hand and read it aloud as you left the church next to Arthur.
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The ride to Strawberry was long, but the deer that would scurry past and the dime-a-dozen bunnies that would run next to your horse made it fun to keep an eye out and not doze off sitting up.The cold air of the mountains began to nip at your skin. You slipped on the winter coat that you’ve had for many years. It was specially made to account for modesty, longer sides that reached about your mid-calf.This made it look more like a woman's coat, but the more fabric, the warmer you were, so you didn't mind the occasional “ma’ams” you heard.“You know my seminary school used to be around here when strawberries were still a hunting ground!” Arthur glanced over at you, watching the reminiscent look on your face.“Have you ever been back to visit?”“Well, I used to come up once a month, but I haven't received letters to return in about five years.” Your eyes were pulled down to your lap, and you stared at the horn of yoursaddle.“Figured they don't want me coming back anymore.”Your throat burned, but you coughed the ache away. Having many older people in Valentine not like you was hard to deal with, but your former school not wishing to speak to you felt like a twist of the knife many years later.“I still ask Father Gavin when he collects the mail if they sent anything, but he just gives me this sad look, like I'm a kicked puppy.” You sniffled, not wanting to be pitied. You just wanted answers but didn't think you'd ever get them. You shook your head, taking a deep breath.“But! Time passes, and people move on. Sometimes, someone I mentored will stop by Valentine.” You were still about 15 minutes away from Strawberry.“It's so lovely to see them all grown up and taken their vows. It reminds me I stay in this life for a reason.” You wiped your eyes from the impending tears threatening to spill.“What business did you have in Strawberry, anyway?” Arthur knew that giving you a new topic to focus on would help you get your mind off of your emotions for just a moment.“Well, the mayor wanted to speak to me about building a church in Strawberry. I’m surprised I got asked.”The gears in Arthur's mind began to turn. How would the mayor even know to ask you? Why would he need help even to build a church?“Help! Help! I need assistance!” Both you and Arthur looked to where the voice was coming from. A man stood at the edge of the road, looking around frantically.“Please, sir! Please stop, oh, I beg you!” His voice was desperate as you spurred your horse to go faster, Arthur following suit. You now faced the man, “Oh, I’m in bad shape here! I went for a little jaunt and managed to get myself hopelessly lost!”Arthur pulled in beside you, glancing down at the man as he explained he was staying in Strawberry and needed to be guided back.The man clasped his hands and looked to Arthur for an answer. “Can’t think of a reason to say no.”“Oh, thank you! Thank you, sir! Shall I hop on the back with you?” Arthur's horse was a big one, hard to climb up. Plus a very stubborn horse to new men.“Please, sir! You can join me on mine.” You held out a hand to the man, but he made only brief eye contact. “I don’t wish to be rude to your husband here, miss.”You huffed, your hand still out for the man to take. “I am a man! A skirt doesn’t make whoever wears it a woman! Get on the horse!” The man looked beside himself. Taking a more extended look at you, to see you were a man.“My apologies!” He took your hand, and you lifted him onto your horse's back, sitting sideways and holding your shoulder for support. Arthur felt warm. You didn’t deny a relationship, didn’t deny him being a husband. I just rejected being a woman.“What are you doin’ out here anyway? This clearly ain’t your natural habitat,” the man sighed, adjusting his sitting position on your horse.“Oh no, I’m just visiting; I’m from New York City, actually.” One of the man's hands rested against your hip. He was having a hard time as if he’d never been back on a horse.“You don’t say.” Arthur glanced back at the man, not liking that he was touching you. You’ve just called him your husband if he stretched the idea, and now some random man has his hands all over you.“Oh yes! There was some talk at the country club about this burgeoning little resort town called Strawberry, so I thought it would be quite the trip to see what the fuss was!” You held in a laugh. Sure, strawberry was pretty and full of nature, but a resort town? It was a lumber yard when you first saw it. Primarily hunters and loggers around.“Perhaps make a few investments while it was still undervalued; it turns out I was made the fool!” Arthur had to tear his eyes away to watch the trail. “What are you not enjoying it then?”“It’s a town of splinters. I can’t call it much of a town at all! I all but stepped off the carriage before I had taken in the whole place!” His voice was exaggerated. It had been a while since you last stepped foot in Strawberry, but he was correct. It was a tiny town.“I suppose some might call it charming.” The man snorted a laugh, lightly pushing your shoulder forward. You slightly chuckled, not wanting to be so awkward.“Let me tell you, charm is not worth much these days. You show me a timber-framed shack, and I’ll show you Broadway.”“And meanwhile, you have this mayor, quite intolerable blowhard!” Your stomach dropped; of course, the man you’d have to spend the next few hours with would have to be some terror.“A little bespoke woodwork, and he thinks this is a cultural hub? The man’s completely deluded.” Talking to the mayor about church seemed more like work than a fun conversation. You internally sighed“Well,” the man sighed again, “I should give him some credit. He must be quite the salesman, men he did get me out here after all, more fool me.”“Now I’m trumping through the leaves and the muck with some…cowboys! Eh, no offense?”“Little taken.” Arthur’s tone was pointed.At that point, the ride was mostly silent. Arthur’s tone struck fear in the man from New York City, who took a bit of cover behind your frame.You could see the edge of Strawberry. Turning to the man, you asked, “Does any of this look familiar?” The man nodded, a smile taking over his face. “Yes!”“Sir’s! You’ve rescued me from the depths!” He joyfully laughed, hugging your torso. Your horse slowed down as Arthur turned back to see the man hugging you.The man leaped off your horse and took his hat off, holding it to his chest. “You seem the resourceful sorts, sir!” The man looked at Arthur. “If, for some reason, you plan to spend any time in Strawberry, you may want to look into that gabbing mayor; something is very… off with him.” The man's voice trailed as he walked ahead to the sign of Strawberry. You and Arthur were a few feet behind.“New Yorkers…” Arthur rolled his eyes, joining back at your side as you both slowly entered the small town.“I guess I’ll see what it is about this mayor and what makes him so odd.” Arthur nodded as you rode more into the town. “What must you do here, Arthur? I don’t think I asked.” You felt sheepish to ask so deep into the trip. You reached around your horse, taking a stack of folded papers out of the side saddle bag.“There’s a… well, he’s not a friend but a man in jail here.”Not a friend? You’d ask, but Arthur seemed upset about talking to the man.Arthur walked you to the welcome center. As you peeked at the jail, you saw a set of arms hanging out from the cell. The steps to the welcome center creaked under your weight. Arthur opened the door for you, nodding his head goodbye as the warmth of the building surrounded you.The mayor stood in the center of the room with a significant smile. You held a hand out for him to shake.“It's Good to see you, Father (Name) finally! I'm glad you could make it.” The mayor took your hand vigorously, but his excitement about seeing you felt disproportionate.“I’m glad I could make it! Building a church is no small feat!” You held out the papers to the mayor. “This is a copy of the plans drafted for the church in Valentine. It’s a bit old-fashioned in design, but I thought it could help.”The mayor took your plans and shoved them away in his suit pocket.He didn’t even take a glance at it….He led you to a table with a window facing the side of the jail. You glanced and saw Arthur crouched, talking to someone locked inside, talking to the same set of arms you sawbefore.The arms were clothed in red fabric, hands gripping the thick metal bars.“You know, Father, I wanted you to come here based on a recommendation from that seminary school.” Your head flipped around. They had recommended you?“Talked all about how great you are, and well, I want you in Strawberry.” The mayor took a step closer, an excited look in his eyes.“I, I’m not sure what to say. I’ve been in Valentine for 20 years and don’t think I can leave.” You weren’t thinking of the town, truth be told, it would probably be good for your health to get out of there. But your mind drifted to the gang.While they told you they’d be leaving Valentine at some point, you wanted to be there for them, a constant in their ever-changing lives. Picking up and moving to Strawberry would cut your time with them by God knows how much.“Please! It is not like the people at Valentine's appreciate you. You’d be compensated handsomely here.” He enunciated his words, holding out an envelope for you.The pale envelope in your hands was thick.Why on earth did he want you in Strawberry so bad? “Could you give me some time to mull it over? I just. Most of my life is there; people depend on me on Valentine.”“Have them move here! We have many buildings being built for sale.” You shook your head. “I help the disenfranchised, Sir. If they can't afford a home in Valentine, what makes you think they’d move to such a hub?”The mayor made a face, twisted in disgust. “Well now this is a fine town for fine people! I’m sure whoever is left in Valentine can watch over them.” It was only you in Valentine for anything besides mass. Frustration began to bubble in your stomach.“I am doing God's work! I am shaping lives and raising the level of civilization in our region!” Your frustration quickly became anger. The mayor reached out a hand, saying, “Strawberry, it's a nice place for nice folks.”“It’s real lovely here, but I must rest on it. Are there any rooms available here?” You couldn’t read the look the mayor gave you. You didn’t want to understand it. “I must insist you take a look around town. The sheriff! A great man with my blessings, you must meet him.”The mayor pulled you by the arm out of the front door. The cold air of West Elizabeth hit you in the face. You gasped clutching your jacket close to your chest. The mud under your boots was slick, and you almost slipped as the mayor moved so quickly.You caught sight of Arthur, still at the side of the jail, staring at an iron donkey. He only barely saw you as you were dragged into the jail by Timmins.“Officer Hanley! I’d like you to meet the strawberries' newest, Father (Name).” Your eye began to twitch, what was with this fool? “Would you mind if he prayed over the men kept down there?” You’d have to avoid this man the second you got back into Valentine.Maybe those at your seminary school did have a hatred for you, recommending you to such a, ‘intolerant blowhard.’You hardly heard the sheriff as you were pushed to the edge of the stairs, descending slowly.“Why don’t you pray for this wicked soul, Father? Maybe you’re just what I’ve needed all along.” The man spoke in huffs as if he were out of breath just looking at you. You glanced up the stairs of the jail. No one was watching over you now and it made you feel a bit unsafe. But you clutched your rosary, the metal poking into your skin had you grounded in reality.“Come closer to the bar, my child.” The man's eyes spiraled with intensity, reveling that you were doing this. But if he were to be hanged tomorrow, what would be the harm? God will deal with him when his time comes.His forehead pressed against the cold bars while your hand hovered just a hair’s breath away from touching him. You closed your eyes and began to pray for the evil to leave this man who had been killed in cold blood. You prayed for the darkness in his heart that had driven him to commit unspeakable acts. Frustration crossed your face—why would the mayor bring you here and not come to the holding area himself? It consumed your thoughts.Suddenly, warmth enveloped your ring and middle finger. Your eyes snapped open to see a wide grin across the man’s face. You gasped and quickly pulled your hand away, realizing your fingers glistened with saliva. He laughed momentarily, but you seized the moment and smacked him on the head through the bars.His laughter ceased immediately, replaced by a grunt of pain. As the sun set quickly, darkness enveloped the outside of the jail. “Why I’d have half a mind to do worse!” Your embarrassment was soothed by the fact that no one else was locked up with the man, only you and he knew what happened.You huffed and made your way out of the jail, a forced smile across your lips as you bid the men a goodnight.You rubbed your eyes and noticed how empty the streets were for such a town. There was a whisper to your side as you were yanked into the small gap between the welcome center and the jail.Arthur pressed your back against the cold cobblestone of the welcome center. It was so cold and dark at night in West Elizabeth that you almost forgot how bad it had been in the years you had not returned.But as Arthur's hands held your hips against his, capturing your lips in a desperate kiss, you felt nothing but the heat radiating from his body. “Arthur! We can’t do this…here! What if someone sees us?” it came out as more of a whine than a whisper. Which you cursed yourself for.The only people walking by were those sneaking into the general store; Arthur could tell none of them could care less or even notice the two of you.But he wanted you here, not to go all the way; he couldn't let you get sick. But just enough to mess with Micah. His hand trailed across your chest, cupping the skin over your shirt.Your moans gave Arthur a way in to rub his tounge against yours. His gloved thumb lightly rubbed against the hardening bud on your chest. Seeing you crumble under Javier, Charles, Sean, and even Kieran's touches or attention was one thing.But Micah had always pushed. He always pushed what he could get away with cause he'd never face punishment. And whatever punishment he did face never lasted.But he was sitting in a jail cell, forced to hear the soft moans that fell from your mouth because of Arthur.Well, this was just some justice.His mouth sucked a second mark into your chest. Your hands tangled in his hair, gently tugging the light brown strands. Your dick throbbed when his mouth finally took your nipple into the warmth and wetness. The heat surrounding it made you cry out. God forgive you for such a pitiful display.Your legs felt weak, and the thought of someone catching you fogged your brain. “Hotel room? Please Arthur.” Arthur finally unlatched his lips from your chest. The cold wind brushed against your chest, causing you to shiver.“Whatever you want darlin’.”
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Ever the reformed gentleman, Arthur began to button up your shirt for you. Each attempt you made proved your fingers too shaky to grab the buttons properly.When the two of you entered the Welcome Center, the hotelier looked confused, looking behind you as if someone was missing.“I’d like a room, please.” Your voice was light, blood rushing everywhere but your head, you couldn’t think.“Father ain’t feeling too well, figured I’d see it to that he got to a bed.” Arthur held your shoulder and held out a $1 to the man.“Um, no, of course, yes!” You were handed a room key, and Arthur guided you up the stairs. The door that matched the key had a sign on it.“RESERVED”“Aw, look at that. They set up a whole room for you.” He was so close to you, no one else was in the area, and everything was quiet. Arthur’s hands grabbed your thighs, squeezing the fat in his hands.“How spoiled rotten you must’ve been treated huh?” You stuttered a no, trying to unlock the door. If anything, you have been treated awfully since you got here.When you pushed open the door, the room was dim. Plenty of small candles were spread around, lighting it very romantic.The bed was made of rose petals, and a bottle of wine was on the nightstand. A beautifully wrapped gift basket was also on the bed.It felt more like a Honeymoon suite than a reserved hotel room for a priest.“Uh, are we sure this is the right room?” You tried to back away from the door frame but bumped into Arthur’s sturdy body; he looked just as confused.“Same number as the keys.” Arthur was weary stepping into the room behind you, his arm wrapped around your waist protectively.“What happened with you and the mayor?” Arthur began to poke around the room, looking for who knows what, as you thought about it, shutting the door behind you.“He was persistent, offered me a bunch of money to move here to work at the church being built.” Arthur took another look around the room. “How are you feeling about that job-““I’m not taking it! Not after,” you stepped to the bed and threw some rose petals. “This!! I mean, good lord, what was even the plan here?!”You put your hands on your hips as you looked over the basket. It looked like a few fancy treats and small boxes you didn’t recognize. “I will take this though.” Arthur laughed at your stern voice. His arms curled around your torso as you turned, nudging his head into your shoulder.“They planned to get to you, seduce you into working with them.” While his tone was teasing, the subtle jealousy that laced his words was evident. His right hand held a letter before you, while his left hand stayed on your hip.‘We know of his reputation. A man with history like that will take what he can get to escape it. We are in the same sinking ship drowning together, some light pushing and I would very well bet he could join us on a night here. He’d never want to leave Strawberry after that. And would be willing to fulfil a favor’-TYou felt your breath stop. What sort of story book plan was this?Arthur pulls his hand from your side, pushing you up the bed. His knee pressed against your aching dick. The two layers of clothing made the sensation very weak. But the bubbling of nerves in your stomach made it feel so close. “Why waste such a chance… might as well, use the room.”“Arthur, you know I, I made a vow! I can’t-”Oh god, you could feel him pressed into your thigh. Your back was against the bed, Arthur looming over you.“Is it God, or are you nervous?” Arthur held your face in his hands. His eyes were crystal clear like they were looking inside of you.You've never had sex before. Only touching yourself when it became uncomfortable for your body to go so long without.You could ask for forgiveness. Give in this time and never again. But as Arthur's gaze softened, his thumb lovingly stroking your cheek, why wouldn't you want to return to his arms again? Why would you like to avoid his loving eyes?God put you on this path. A very unconventional path of being with a man. Or, well, men. God had already forgiven you before you even knew Arthur Morgan.God's forgiveness came to you in the form of an outlaw who looked at you like you were made of glass.At least thinking so made the ache you felt go away.“Can we start, um, slow? I’ve never done this before.” Arthur nodded slow, real slow, before reaching and slipping off the caplet of your uniform. Undoing the buttons again, much slower this time than before, in the alleyway.You felt a bit embarrassed. Hours ago, you had no issue changing in front of Arthur. But he was undressing you, taking in your form. Your youth was escaping you; there was no shame in getting older. It's a luxury not many have, but with age, your body changes.Even if you were pretty active, most of your body hair was littered with gray specks. Your muscles from working around the church so hard were there; you thought they held your skin firm.Arthur stared at your chest, the marks he left across it evidence of his worship to you.Considering your avoidant eyes, Arthur stopped at your belt buckle, usually hidden under your discarded skirt. “I’ll be fair.” Arthur kissed your nose before pulling his shirt over his head.His chest was supple, and his shirt's tightness around it was no surprise now. There were a few marks and scars across his torso. Your eyes followed downward to the slight pudge in his stomach. While he wasn’t hairless, your eyes were drawn to a thicker patch of hair, like a line down the middle of his body.Like an arrow pointing, drawing your attention downward. And now Arthur seemed shy, playing with his fingers while staring at you.“Come ‘ere.” Arthur slotted himself between your legs, lowering onto your body. Skin against skin felt so intimate, like you could melt together.There was a slight whispering outside of the door. Your ears being so used to the dead silence of the church, you’d pick up on most noises. The light under the door was interrupted, two shadows being obvious under it. Arthur guided your face back to him, kissing your lips and pulling away with a sigh.The two of you held eye contact. “Is this alright with you?” You nodded, watching as Arthur moved lower on your body. The marks from before were more profound in color, any redness gone. There was a tingle in each mark as he kissed over them, his eyes never leaving yours.Sucking a new mark into your skin, your back lifted off of the mattress. It tickled but felt so electric, his hands massaged around your groin. It is not touching you directly, but it gets firm and gentle rubs everywhere around.It was embarrassing to move your hips, wanting just a little fiction over the ache. But Arthur held your hips down. “Ah ah, you said slow. Slow is what we are doing. Be good.” You were always good. At least you were told so. You looked back to the door, and the shadows were gone.You took a deep breath each second. Arthur's attention was on you. His hands finally pulled your slacks down after undoing your belt. The pads of his fingers pressed into the skin of your hips.Pulling your pants down your legs. Stopping for a moment, he pulled the white fabric of your underwear down with it.Your cock sprang out, a small smack as it settled against your stomach just below your belly button.“Tha’ skirt of yers does a lot of hidin’.” Your hands went to cover yourself, feeling like you were about to cave in on yourself. “Arthur…”He kissed your thigh, and the sound of his pants falling off of his legs caught your attention. “Aw, come on, it's alright. Should never be ashamed of this.” His finger grazed the base, slowly trailing upwards. You were practically in each other's laps when he straddled you. Pressing his dick against yours, not commenting on the slight differences in size, but from the look in his eyes, he was thinking about it.Thrusting against you, your head fell back. Eyes shut tight, trying to maintain your breath—all a futile attempt to handle the pleasure you’ve never experienced once before.The heat of someone else against you, no clothes in the way, Felt Arthur's skin burn just as hot as yours. You were desperate when his large hand wrapped around the two of you. It was still slow; a deep sigh from Arthur followed each stroke.You choked a gasp when his hand tightened. Reacting to every little thing Arthur did inflate his ego a bit.He was trying so hard to pace himself for your sake. Watching your stomach drop into itself each time he teased your cock head with a squeeze, spreading the precum that began to drip into your skin with the tip of his finger, making it so much slicker between passed off his handYou could feel a tightness in your stomach and throat. Your legs squirmed against Arthur's sides; you couldn’t keep yourself down as he leaned into your neck, kissing under your ear. “Just wait til we do this properly.”There was a buzzing in your ears; a feeling of euphoria took over your entire body.Arthur’s lips were back over yours as you twitched with each spurt of cum that painted Arthur’s hand. The sight alone made Arthur finish as well. How own guttural groans filled the space as he took in your appearance.Your hair is a mess, panting for air, and you desperately hold Arthur in your arms. His non-stained hand stroked your head. Trying to bring you back down to earth slowly. Like prey being caught, adrenaline rushing in your blood.When your panting became sighs, Arthur reached across the bed to his bag. Holding the same bandana from this morning, he cleaned your stomach and his hand.Half-lidded eyes watched as he moved the duvet of the blanket for you to lay under. The fancy pillows were like the arms of an angel as you tucked into them. And the real arms of a protector held you close to his chest. Wet, sleepy kissed across his chest, and you mumbled to yourself.
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It was still dark out when you woke up. So incredibly warm against Arthur’s chest you almost fell back asleep. But your mind began to race.Twenty years—gone in an instant. Two decades of celibacy unraveled by a man you barely know. The realization twisted in your stomach, a heavy pit of confusion. You couldn’t blame Arthur.He wasn’t a temptress or a seductive serpent sent to lead you astray; he was just a man. You were an adult, capable of making your own choices, yet you felt an unusual softness, an involuntary surrender to their whims around him and others.What was driving this sudden change? Years of never looking at anyone twice suddenly over. After dedicating so much of your life to God, why did the sight of these men ignite such unexpected joy?Had the church suppressed this side, you never knew you had, or would you have felt this spark regardless? You couldn’t shake the thought—you donned the firm collar each morning, believing it would bring you closer to something sacred. And yet, here you were, tangled in with Arthur Morgan.As dawn broke, spilling golden light into the room, Arthur stirred, drawing you into his warmth. If this was what sin felt like if this exhilaration was truly wrong, had you wasted your years in devotion?The thought made you sick as if the ground beneath you had shifted. Birds chirped outside of the window. Goosebumps raised across your skin as the cold air trailed the parts of your back not covered by Arthur’s arms“You gotta get out of town.” Arthur’s hands cupped your face as he stared down at you. “Far, far away, you hear me?”“What? Arthur-” Your hands held Arthur’s to your face. His gaze was intense.“I gotta get Micah out of jail, and I can’t say it’ll be pretty, and I don’t want you hurt,” Arthur explained the ideas he and Micah thought up, and sure enough. No matter what, some blood was to be shed.“Must you help him out?” Your voice was soft as you left the bed. Arthur sighed as he watched you get dressed. “Yeah, I have to.”You grunted and buttoned up your cassock. The long sleeves kept you slightly warm. While it was a fancy hotel, the heating wasn’t the best. “Well, I think maybe we can devise a different plan.”“We? No. You’re not getting wrapped up in this (Name).” His voice was stern behind you. The tone he was using made you tense up.“Arthur, let me help. I’m already here, and I think we can develop something that’ll cause the least damage.”As you turned to look at Arthur his shirt was loose around his shoulders, lost in thought. You stepped over and began to button his shirt yourself. “You can’t just bat your eyelashes at the sheriff and ask?” You laughed halfway up his shirt, the white buttons like pearls against his black shirt.“I don’t think those sheriffs fancy me much, Arthur.” With a soft pat on his chest, you pulled away.“A distraction! We have to get the sheriffs out of the jail. You can go in and grab Micah from there!” You were beaming, hands clasped.“That’s an… idea.” Arthur stood from the bed and held your shoulders, “I know how to get them out.”_________Your eyes locked onto the mayor, and the letter gripped into your hands as you approached. “You! If I had half my wits about, I’d show everyone in town your plans!” His face twisted in fear. A few of the town's folk looked over.“Father (Name)! I’m sure we can…work out an agreement?” One of his hands reached for you, and you slapped it away.“Don’t patronize me, you fool!” You were losing yourself and needed to remember the plan. “If you want this to all go away, I’ll cut you a deal.”“Is this blackmail?” Timmins squinted at you.“Don’t you worry what this is?” You sighed. “Just know if we can’t come to some agreement, everyone will know.” There was one beat, and the mayor ran to the sheriff. Your heart dropped, but things were going accordingly.Around the edge of the building, Arthur peaked out, watching as you tried to leap over the railing and landed on your ass with a huff.With a gentle lift that caught you slightly off guard, you handed your neatly folded coat to Arthur. In return, he shed his jacket, draping it over your shoulders with a protective gesture.Acting swiftly, you ripped the skirt from your outfit, revealing a pair of fitted slacks beneath. The cold air made you shiver.Glancing back, you could see the sheriff and his deputies gathered outside the jail, their expressions a mix of confusion and curiosity as they listened intently to the mayor's escalating outburst.A growing crowd of townsfolk began to converge, drawn by the commotion, their whispers and glances amplifying the mayor's ranting.“Alright, the horses are just down the road a bit,” Arthur said, his voice steady despite the chaos around you. You nodded in understanding, pushing your hands in the arms of his jacket for warmth and comfort.Then, in a moment that seemed suspended in time, Arthur reached up and placed his hat delicately on the back of your head. He pulled you closer, his touch gentle yet firm, and pressed a quick, fleeting kiss to your lips. You felt your eyes flutter shut, savoring the moment's warmth and wishing it could linger.But just as quickly as it began, it was over, leaving you with a sweet ache in your chest.“I’ll see you down there, alright?” he murmured, searching your eyes for reassurance.“Of course, Arthur,” you replied, a smile breaking across your face. You started walking towards the edge of town, acutely aware of every step.You concentrated on not drawing suspicion or attention, knowing that the most apparent signs of a distant figure being you, you felt more confident.The hat low on your head hid your face. The sheriff and deputies were on the porch of the welcome center looking around. The people of the town all watched as the mayor had his meltdown. You ducked behind a building. Watching Arthur sneak out of the side of the jail with a tangled-up Micah.“Princeton putz!” the crowd erupted.Timmins yelled something you didn’t catch but made the entire town scream. You took off down the road, and seeing your horse in the distance was like a blanket over you.“Oh, my sweet boy!” You hugged the neck of the horse. Micah’s horse sniffed at your clothes as you led them down further.Reaching a small clearing on a cliff, you rested against the horse. While you waited, you took off Arthur’s hat. The worn leather was soft, but the rope tied around it was frayed and rough.Getting into your saddle, you dug in the side bag momentarily before your hand landed on smooth metal and beads.It was one of the rosaries you carried as ‘blessings’ to hand to those who needed some luck. The beads were a soft blue, made with the petals of a hydrangea.You twisted the rosary around the harsh rope. Intertwining the two beautifully.As if on cue, Arthur arrived, Micah making a fuss on the back of his horse.“My damn guns are back there!”“Go get them yerself; I ain't letting you make a fool in front of Father (Name).” You nodded to Arthur and held his hat back out to him. Micah’s horse sniffed at his face before trying to chew his hair.Arthur pulled his hunting knife from its holster and cut the ropes around Micah’s arms. He fell to the ground muttering to himself before getting on his own horse. “Well, we’re family now Arthur, sons of Dutch, makes us brothers. And sometimes brothers make mistakes.” Arthur admired the rosary around his hat twisting the beads between his fingers.“Now where are you going?” Arthur called out as Micah began to ride away. “Little camp I got round back of strawberry, come see me. Maybe I can make things up to you.” You got on your own horse and watched as Micah's horse started to get antsy.“So ain’t going back to Dutch?” Arthur looked at the man with a curious look eyebrow quirked. Perching his hat on his head.“No, I’ve been a bad boy Arthur,” Micah’s eyes rolled over your body, and you felt much too exposed being just in form fitting slacks.“I ain’t seeing Dutch till I can bring him a peace offering.” His horse bucked in the air. “Bye now.” You felt a shiver as he rode away.
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Javier and Charles were in your room. Your list mentioned that extra candles were kept on your top shelf.Charles could reach them just fine, and Javier began to look around after struggling for a few seconds. Your shelf was full of books and small wooden boxes, and the bed was messy and unmade.Walking over to your closet, Javier found a box under the folded blanket pile. Pushing the blankets, Javier opened the box to see it was full of books. Javier picked out a book; its soft green cover had caught his attention. There was nothing else on the cover besides the title he couldn’t understand.“Hey Charles, what does this say?” Arms full of candles, Charles looked at the title in cursive across the front. “The hunter. Where did you find that?” Charles squinted as Javier flicked through the pages. Print English was easier for him to read, and he was still struggling with cursive writing.Glancing across the pages, it seemed like a plain story:“ ‘Lilliana stood at the edge of the woods, her heart racing as she locked eyes with the enigmatic hunter. His eyes held stories yet to be told, laughter tucked in the corners, and secrets wrapped in shadows.’ oh my!” Javier put on a slight voice as he read the book, mimicking your speech patterns where he could.“A box of romance books tucked away in the closet?” Charles gets his hands on a few more candles. Charles laughed, a soft sound as he shook his head. Javier stared as Charles laughed, a grin across his face at the noise.“Cute, huh?” Javier kicked the box back into your closet, putting the soft leather book into his inner coat pocket. “Do you think he really reads them?” Charles watched as Javier leaned down to get the blankets.“Maybe he’s read all these other ones.”Javier waved his hand around to your stuffed shelf. “Being alone for 20, I imagine a man gets a little needy.” Charles nodded and sat with the words for a bit. You probably were needy.Lifting the large stack of blankets, the men made their way out to Hosea to set up the cots.–“Ah, you know what, Kieran Sean, can you find matchboxes? We should try to have one per room.” Hosea scratched his chin as he helped Javier and Charles set up. The fluttering of blankets filled the air as both men stepped out of the room and wandered the halls, only having about three matchbooks.“I uh, I know where some more are,” Kieran stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.“(Name) keeps a few books in his nightstand.” As he spoke, Kieran absentmindedly flicked the paper of the matchbooks with his fingers, the faint sound echoing in the stillness as he made his way toward your room, the door slightly ajar. Each footstep thudded against the wooden floor.“An’ how would ya know that?” Sean asked incredulously, narrowing his eyes as he observed Kieran kneeling beside the nightstand, the dim light casting shadows on his nervous expression.“Well, um, I always come by to help out!” Kieran hurriedly defended himself, his gaze flickering nervously around the room, avoiding Sean's penetrating stare. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks as he reached into the small drawer and began plucking a few matchbooks from their arrangement.“Are yew sure it’s just that and not yew bein’ some sort of pervert?” Sean challenged, his voice laced with playful suspicion. He leaned down, forcing Kieran to meet his eyes, which gleamed with mischief. “Looking through Father (Name)’s stuff just to get yer rocks off?”“Of course not! Why on earth would I be nosy here?!” Kieran exclaimed, backing away slightly as the gravity of Sean's accusation hung in the air. “It’s not like (Name) has any secrets! Never met a more open book in my life!”Sean paused, his intense gaze softening before bursting into laughter, filling the room. “I’m only pullin’ yer leg! But are yew sure, though? Not even a…” he teased, rummaging through the other drawers, tossing their contents with abandon. “Fancy little notebook where he writes all his fantasies?”As Kieran watched Sean's antics, he felt like this was violating a lot of your privacy, even if Kieran had, in the past, taken a small peek into some of the other cabinets and drawers when he had the chance.“(Name) doesn't have anything like that!” Sean huffed at Kieran’s words before going to the bedside table opposite Kieran. “Why cause ya checked?” Kieran groaned and denied it again.“Wouldn’t that be somethin’? Desperate Father (Name) scribblin’ in a notebook about, I dunno, intense eye contact.” Both men knew they had done more with you but refrained from mentioning it. “I suppose…” both men left the room, minds wandering off thinking of you in such a state of need, and all you’d have to turn to was writing that raw emotion.As if they could read it anyway.—Hosea placed a matchbook on each window next to a few candles. Last on your list was to gather some canned goods. And writing to avoid fresh fruit until the day before the storm.‘I want them to last! So don’t worry about buying any!”The sun was setting as Lenny whispered, describing where you hid a little money to buy food cans.Dutch saunters into your room, pushing the door open once again. Your room is peaceful; he can feel the calm wash over him.Dutch pulls a book from your shelf.‘Critique of Pure Reason by Immanuel Kant’Opening the book to the middle, Dutch slid the money into his hand before the pages caught his attention.A plethora of underlines and annotations from you. And the book itself kept him in.You had philosophy books? And noted things about them? Looking more at the books on your shelf, over half were different philosophers and their ideas.Consequentialism, social contract theory, utilitarianism, divine command theory. Many things he had a vague idea of.Hosea entered your room and eyed Dutch carefully. “Did you find the money okay?” Ditched nodded and slid the book back into your shelf. He’d absolutely had to speak to you about such things. He didn't see you as the philosophical type.Hosea looked at the mess in your bed and sighed. You left in a rush, so he assumed you didn’t have time to fix it. Hosea tidied your bed by stepping over to the tangled mess of blankets and pillows. It was getting dark outside as each man left, Dutch and Hosea heading to the general store and the rest off to camp for the day.
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The hooves of your horse thudded against the ground. Both horses were close together despite being skittish, snorting, and sniffing at each other, even though their nerves usually would’ve had them driving away.You thanked Arthur for joining you in Strawberry, not knowing how different things could’ve been without him.Arthur waved the compliment away before glancing around the empty road, a slight grin dancing across his face before reaching out to you. Pulling you in with one swift motion by the collar of his jacket you were still wearing.Your hands loosen on your horse's reins as you melt into the kiss. So starved of physical affection, any amount left you dizzy after it ended. “Thank you to you, too, (Name). Lovely company you are.” Your hand held the cold horn of your saddle as you looked away a bit shyly.“Well, it’s gettin’ late. I’ll make sure you get home safe.” Arthur’s hand patted your thigh as Valentine came into view.Returning home felt like stepping into a slice of paradise after the whirlwind of the day. It had been far too long since you’d ventured beyond the church's confines, and the day’s activities had left their mark on you physically and mentally.Your boots were caked with mud, and the wet streets of Strawberry didn't leave you unscathed. Meanwhile, your once-pristine cassock hung limply, stained and torn. Slipping off Arthur's jacket, you made a mental note to return it the following day.As you began to change, your gaze wandered over to your torso. Your fingers brushed lightly over the dark markings left by Arthur. They simmered with a faint throb; pressing your fingers into the mottled skin, you noticed that they didn’t ache like traditional bruises and instead felt alive.Sighing, you pulled your sleep shirt over your head; it was just long enough to cover the marks left on your thighs. The feelings you had, indeed, were just some sort of crush. It would go away.Kneeling in front of your bed, you held the cold beads. Softly praying for anything your mind could think of.Please, God, take away all suffering. Let every person get home safe. Watch over those who need you most in these trying times. And please, if I'm going down the right path. Please give me a sign.You opened your eyes to the dim light of your room. Your legs ached from being on a horse for so many hours. Each mile left a toll on your hips. Your hand hurt from holding the rosary so tightly.Your bed was made, and as you ran your hand across the blanket, you wondered who fixed it for you.There was a creak in the large church entrance doors. Nervously looking at your sleep shirt, you went to the main chapel area. Dutch placed a crate of cans on the kitchen counter with a grunt. “Hosea is on his way here with the rest, talked the store owner into quite a deal on these.”Dutch tapped the top of a can playfully, his eyes crinkling with mischief as he looked you over. “Is that a new uniform, Father (Name)?” he asked teasingly. You stepped closer, letting out a light chuckle, “No! Of course not. It’s just my sleepwear.”You reached for a few cans from the crate, the cool metal contrasting with the warmth of your skin, and began carefully placing them in the neat rows of the cabinet.The tile floor beneath your feet was chilling to the touch, but you tried to ignore the discomfort as you stretched upwards, your fingertips brushing against the cool, hard surface of the shelves.Dutch's eyes took in the sight of your uncovered legs.He wanted to slip up the fabric to your hips and admire you.Suddenly, you felt Dutch's fingers wrap around your wrist, gently pulling your hand to his chest. “Now, why don't you relax a bit? All work and no play makes you a dull boy,” he said, his voice low. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the knuckle of your hand, the warmth of his lips sending a flicker of heat through you.As he turned to continue putting the cans away, you felt a rush of warmth spread through your body despite the thin and flowy fabric of your sleepwear.“What a lovely get-up you have there, Father (Name)!” Hosea grunted and placed a second, much fuller crate on the counter.Hosea handed you the change, having barely spent half of the money you gave as an allowance. “Oh wow! How did you manage to get this all so cheap?”“Every man has a price!” Hosea had a proud look on his face as you admired the haul of cans and a few bags of flour and sugar. Dutch leaned against the counter, also to admire.“I do owe you two! Thank you so much.” Hosea shook his head, insisting there was nothing to owe, but Dutch glanced over, giving Hosea a look. A look you missed as you had your back turned. “Please! I do insist!”Your eyes turned to Dutch. “I’m sure we can work out a deal?” Dutch froze for a second, his body stiffening, his eyes narrowing slightly. Then, as if the moment had never passed, he let out a quiet laugh, a low rumble of amusement. “Oh, we’ll work something out alright,” he said, his voice dark and teasing.You glanced back at Hosea with a confused look, the tonal shift not being lost on you. Hosea held a blank expression as he sighed. “Well, I'm sure you are just exhausted, Father"Father (Name). We will be on our way!” Hosea pulled Dutch away from the counter he was leaning against.Both men bid you a goodnight before the heavy door shut.Silence.And alone.It felt like forever since the church was so silent—even longer than the night you had been alone. Walking back to your room, you admired the chapel.The dim lighting made everything feel so warm, a warmth that tugged at your heart. The stained glass of the Virgin Mary, the different saints, and Jesus, you still thought it was allbeautiful.You stood still, the familiar joy you'd always felt about the church you ran washing over you. It was almost the same warmth you'd feel sharing the space with the men. You ran a hand over the smooth wood of the pews; the cushions were long and worn out.You walked to your room, glancing down the hallway before finally deciding to sleep. It was useless to continue to mull over it while being so tired. The bed was inviting, with soft blankets neatly tucked at the edges. You sank into the pillows, the weight of the day fading as your body relaxed into the warmth of the sheets. The silence was soothing, with only the distant sound of the wind outside.Your thoughts slowed, each breath deeper than the last, until your eyelids grew heavy, and the world blurred into a calm, peaceful nothingness. Sleep came slowly at first, but soon, exhaustion took over, and you drifted into a deep slumber, the quiet embrace of rest taking you completely.You woke to the soft light of morning filtering through the window. The warmth of the blankets was still wrapped around you, but now the sunlight coaxed you from your sleep. A few moments passed as you lay still, savoring the comfort of the bed before slowly opening your eyes. The world outside felt relatively peaceful.With a deep breath, you stretched, the soft creak of your muscles a reminder of how tired you'd been the night before. The silence in the room was peaceful, but it didn't last long—your thoughts began to stir again, pushing aside the remnants of sleep. You sighed, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. It was time to face the day.The marks were almost darker to your distress. It’s not like you ever had a reason to be shirtless around anyone, but it still nipped at your mind that the marks were just a reach away.You pulled a sash across your waist and tied it, letting the long edge hang over. It was a light green color you had dyed yourself years ago to be ‘seasonal.’ You wanted a special meal for dinner, celebrate the holiday at least for Sean's sake.Walking to the kitchen, you opened the window that faced town, letting the light breeze in. Now, it was time to focus.After chopping sausage and cabbage, you added them to a baking tray with minced garlic and onions. Leave the tray in the oven to cook for now. You began to peel and clean enough potatoes and carrots to feed a village. Leaving the peeled vegetables in the sink, you heard horses outside the church. Heading back to the window, you took in the sight of the town, and you saw a familiar hat.“I’m too old to get a job, mister, way too old… can't we be friends?” Arthur stared at Mickey briefly, moving his hands a bit before accepting. A large smile took over Mickey's face as he spoke. “I’m so happy! I haven't had a friend in a long time! Long, long time.” Arthur nodded and listened to Mickey, which made your heartache. How sweet!“What are you doing?” You jumped and turned to see John standing in the kitchen, one of the fruits from the bowl you kept in his hand. “Good lord! Good Morning to you, Mister Marston!” With a laugh, you leaned against the window sill, your heart pounding against your chest from the fright.“Why are you spying?” John asked, looking down at the orange in his hand, his nails unable to break the peel. “I’m not spying!” you pushed off the sill and took a look back over.“Can I hold you a second, mister? Can I?” Arthur looked over his shoulders, just barely missing your wide eyes that took in his movements. “Fine, just quickly.” Arthur sighed, and Mickey fell on top of his for a moment. With a quick pat on his back from Arthur, Mickey pulled away. “That felt good; it's nice to be held sometimes.” You let out a small aw before turning back to John, who was now biting into the skin of the orange—a look of displeasure on his face at the bitter taste.“Let me help you with that, Mister Marston,” you said, taking the orange gently from his hand. “You can call me John…” He paused, eyeing the fruit suspiciously, but you quickly demonstrated your skill by shoving your thumb under the skin and peeling the orange with ease, much smoother than John had managed before.“Mister Marston,” you continued, “would you mind helping me out and taking those vegetables from the sink to the counter?” John grunted softly, giving a nod. He moved the clean potatoes and vibrant orange carrots to the counter carefully and deliberately, as if the task required a certain finesse.Once the orange was fully peeled, you placed it back into John's hand, the citrus scent lingering in the air. You wiped your hands on a towel to remove the sticky residue, a satisfied smile spreading across your face.“Thank you, John,” you said warmly, turning your attention to the pile of vegetables before you. You began chopping the potatoes and carrots into bite-sized pieces, the knife slicing cleanly.“What are you cutting those for?” John asked around a mouthful of juicy orange, joining you at the counter, his curiosity piqued.“Well! It’s Saint Patrick's Day,” you responded, enthusiasm bubbling in your voice. “I thought it would be nice to make a special meal for Sean.” You placed the chopped vegetables into a container, imagining the warm, hearty dish that would come together.“What are you planning on cooking at camp?” John asked, glancing at you as he ate another slice of orange.“Yes! During our ride back from Strawberry, I asked Arthur to check with the usual cook if it was okay,” you replied, a hint of excitement creeping into your tone. Molly is also Irish.” You nodded, taking in the new information. You indeed had something to gift Molly, just as a kind gesture.Arthur stepped into the church, his boots landing heavily on the wooden floor. He bid you a good morning; you mentioned his jacket being in your room, and Arthur went to your room without hesitation. “John, could you help me put everything in the basket?” You nodded to the large woven basket as John finished the last of his oranges. Most of the pre-cooking went smoothly. John seemed less familiar with a kitchen as he helped you pack, and Arthur enjoyed an orange of his own. “Before we leave, I need to grab something! Would you mind putting this on my horse?” You held the basket to Arthur, who nodded and left the church with John by his side.Speed walking to your room, you quickly grabbed a small, neatly wrapped box of gifts from the top shelf of your closet. It was a reliable stash for those last-minute occasions, a thoughtful reserve that always came in handy. As you locked the church's heavy wooden doors, you turned to Arthur, handing him a crumpled five-dollar bill. “Arthur, would you mind picking up a bottle for Sean with this? Do you think it’s enough?”Arthur placed the wicker basket on your horse's saddle, resting loosely on your lap. With a knowing smile, he replied, “Sure is enough, (Name). I’ll catch up with you two later; I must speak with the sheriff first.” You nodded in agreement, your hands adjusting the basket to keep it steady.As you patted the side of your horse’s neck, cooing softly to soothe it, you felt a calm wave over you. It had been a while since your horse had been this active, and as you began making your way to their camp, its happy whines and gentle nudges melted away any lingering nerves.“I bought the boy a book,” John said, glancing at you, but as you turned to face him, he deliberately avoided your gaze. “He sure likes reading.” A smile crept onto your face at the thought of John showing up somehow. John shrugged a little, his expression unreadable. “Well, that’s very nice of you to do,” You finally replied, voice soft as you held a sugar cube to your horse.After some silence and small nods to passing horses and wagons, John spoke again. “You ever think about making more desserts?” like a nervous tick, John scratched near his scar.“Is there something you’d like in particular, John?” You held a sugar cube to John, and he took it gently from your hand. “Naw, I like what you make, is all.” the camp came into view, and you got ready to lift the heavy basket from your horse.“Good Morning, Mister MacGuire! We missed you this morning.” As you hitched your horse, Sean swayed his way over to you. John got off of his horse beside you and sighed. “I sure didn’t miss him. Don’t be telling him lies now, Father (Name).” You waved John off and offered a side hug to Sean.“Happy Saint Patrick’s Day- Oh!” You almost dropped the food basket as Sean nestled against you, eyes squeezed shut and a grin dancing on his lips.He held onto you tightly, his enthusiasm spilling over as he rambled about the beauty of Ireland. Your back started to bend under the weight of his playful affection as he scooted closer, leaning into you with a familiar ease. “Ya gotta have a drink! Fer mee!” His free hand found your hip, the bottle of whiskey dangling enticingly between you.“Maybe after I warm the stew? I put a lot of love into this one!” You watched him process your suggestion, his gaze fixed on the bottle’s rim against your lips, his pupils wide with playful desire.You were also sure Arthur wouldn’t be too happy to see you drunk and wandering around again for your own sake.“Alright, but yer not leavin’ this camp without one bottle bein’ empty!” With that, Sean stumbled back, a playful bounce in his step as he headed toward Kieran’s scout camp, where Javier was lazily lounging. You couldn’t help but smile, knowing this was just the beginning of a night filled with laughter, warmth, and a touch of mischief. You caught the sight of Javier slumping in his chair and Kieran letting out a sigh as Sean began to talk about Saint Patrick. With a chuckle, you put the heavy basket onto the table, saying hello to Pearson as you unpacked.“Whatcha got here?” Pearson looked over the ingredients; most of you took the time to cut or cook at the church to save time here. “Well! I asked a local Irish woman who visits the church about Irish food; she said to buy this!”Pearson lifted the empty and cleaned-out cauldron to the table. “Looks good; bottles are by the fire if you’d like one.” You nodded and thanked Pearson as he went to the more significant campfire, thanking you for the night off.A small voice caught your attention as you dropped the softened carrots and potato chunks into the pot. “‘Scuse me, mister!” The skirt of your cassock was tugged lightly. You turned to see a small child. Was this Johns’ boy? “Yes? How can I help you?” You crouched down getting to level with the child.“Why does, um, everyone call you Father? Are you my grandpa?” You smiled.“Well, I’m a priest! It’s a title you get when you work with God.” The boy nodded, it was a straightforward explanation but enough for him to understand.“Like reverend?” the boy's voice was high-pitched. The soft wind tousled his hair, and he swung his arms back and forth.“Pretty much! Smart boy, you are for connecting the two.” A woman walked up quickly.“Jack! Leave the man alone.” She gave you an apologetic look, pulling Jack closer to her.“All is well! Jack here was asking about my title.” You offered a hand for the women to shake. “I’m Father (Name). It’s nice to meet you, miss?” As you stood, your knees gave a slight pop that you laughed at.“Abigail, Roberts. It’s nice to meet you, too.” Her hands were very soft, but she maintained a firm handshake. “You’re raising a fine boy here, Miss Roberts; it’s good for him to ask questions! He’ll be real smart as he gets older.”Abigail's face beamed with pride as she thanked you.“Why do you and the reverend wear different outfits? You’re dressed like a lady!” Abigail sighed out an apology.“Well, we are different people who follow god. It’s all about the same, just that I’m Catholic! So I get this skirt to cover my body.” A small child asking in such a way didn’t bother you; everyone learns somehow.“Do I have to call you Father? Or can I call you Mister?” Abigail played with the boy's hair as he asked. “You can call me whatever! The title is optional.” Jack nodded, seemingly satisfied with his questions.Jack wandered away with his mother, who bid you farewell. The stew broth's jars were still warm as you dumped them into the pot.Wiping your hands clean, you lifted the pot with a grunt. The fire wasn’t too far away, but the pot's weight made the task much more daunting. It probably would have been easier to add the stew if you had moved the pot sooner, but it was too late now.After finally positioning the pot over the crackling fire, you glanced up and caught sight of Molly. Her striking red hair caught the sun's light, casting a warm glow around her as it danced in the gentle breeze.“Miss O’Shea!” you called out, waving her over. Her head turned slowly, but a blank expression lingered, making you nervous. “I wanted to wish you a Happy Saint Patrick’s Day! And!” You hurried to the nearby basket, excitedly pulling out a carefully wrapped notebook and a cute little green hair clip.“I didn’t want you to spend the day empty-handed!” you added, presenting the gifts enthusiastically. Molly brought her hand to her mouth, her eyes widening in surprise as she admired the items. Given how often the gang was on the move, she rarely had the chance to carry personal belongings.“I… I can’t thank you enough; I’m not sure what ta’ say.” she stammered, her body shifting as her fingers gently traced the delicate vine pattern embossed into the fabric of the notebook. The tactile sensation seemed to evoke a sense of comfort in her.“Not much needs to be said, Miss O’Shea! Please, enjoy yourself today,” you encouraged, feeling a warmth spread through you at her delighted reaction. With a final smile, you returned to the pot, stirring the bubbling contents as the delicious aroma filled the air. It wouldn’t be long before the meal would be piping hot and ready to serve. You then reached for the cabbage, sausage dish, and freshly baked bread rolls and placed them next to the fire to warm up. John walked over to the fire, picked up the coffee pot, and set the empty metal container down with a sigh.“Trouble sleeping, John?” John sighed and nodded, his hands itched around the scar on his face.“Would you like me to help clean that up for you?” All John did was slip back into his tent, so you took it as a yes. There was a bucket by Johns's tent filled with clean water. Picking it up, you joined him in the tent.“Lay down, Mister Marston; put your head right here.” You tapped your thigh the cot squeaking as you sat down. John stood awkward for a moment, “no funny business, alright? I see how the others in camp get stupid with you, and I ain’t a fool.” His hand rested on his hip serious expression as he spoke.Did he doubt Jack was his? You shook your head and took out a handkerchief. " No funny business.” John joined you on the cot. It felt warm inside the tent, and the cold air outside did not come in.Johns's body was stiff as he lay on his back. He’d never admit how soft he found your leg to be. But his head practically sunk into your thigh in seconds once you started to clean around his scar with the damp handkerchief.“Jack is a real smart boy, a very adorable child,” John grunted, his eyes closed. Your touch was so gentle, not just around his scar. Your other hand rested against his chest to steady yourself to see the edges of the scar.“Watch yourself, Father.” His voice held no real upset feelings. “I won’t do more than this, Mister Marston! If I may say, You heal very nicely; this scar will make you look real big and tough.” You chuckled, rewetting the handkerchief.Cleaning more of John’s face the two of you didn’t speak. You didn’t have to do more than clean around the scar. But you couldn’t help it. Once you started, you had to see it through.Your hand moved from John’s chest, switching the hand you used for cleaning to the other.You remembered John's nightmares; he was so tired cause he wasn’t able to sleep for more than an hour, and especially a restful sleep.To soothe John, your hand began to play with his hair, running your fingers across his scalp. His hair was a similar length to Javier's, not as soft, but that didn’t matter. You were hoping he’d fall asleep, and you’d swap your thigh for a proper pillow and chat with whoever was around as the food continued to warm. Putting the handkerchief at the edge of the bucket, his face was thoroughly cleaned off.To pass the time, you began to do simple large braids in his hair, leaving them only for a moment before undoing them and restarting a new one elsewhere. He didn’t fight against the random act, just melting into your thigh.When John’s body finally slumped, you marveled at his face a bit. The scar did add to his face, making him look more rugged and, well, handsome. But the rest of John was much more delicate and thin. You’d never seen him in action, being out sick for so long, you were sure he’d lost whatever muscle mass he did have. Lifting his head slowly from your thigh, you replaced it with the pillow on his cot. You watched his breathing stay calm and slow. Having to rip your eyes away from the amount of chest he showed.Did every man in this camp not button the top buttons of their shirts?!Leaving the tent when you heard a light snore, the breeze helped your flushed face.