stoney (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} stoney) wrote,@ 2008-08-26 07:52:00 |
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Original Fic Post: And It Came To Pass [6/7]
Title: And It Came To Pass [6/7]
Author: Stoney
Summary: Two guys on an LDS mission come out of the closet and put their houses in order. About as blasphemous (to Mormons) as it gets, so leave your religious piety at the door, or move along.
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Meta on the LDS church within, but nice and buried so it doesn't (hopefully) read like an encyclopedia. This all started from the MormonsExposed.com calendar featuring these two guys (last names made up by me so I won't get sued) AUSTIN YOUNG and BRANDON CHRISTENSEN. This is a made up story, anything resembling reality is coincidental.
Previous chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]
* * * * *
CHAPTER SIX
* * * * *
“And by their desires and their works you shall know them” (D-C 18:38)
"Reconcile yourself to the will of God" (2 Nephi 10:23 )
“In the Church, we enjoy the companionship of other members. We mutually help and inspire one another to live as Christ lives. This companionship gives strength to endure the challenges of daily life and to avoid temptation. - 6th Missionary Discussion
They went about their usual morning routine with the addition of setting aside their laundry; it was P-Day. Instead of a relaxing day of possibly hanging out with the other missionaries, they would instead be meeting with the new Mission President first thing after breakfast and morning study.
Austin examined himself in the mirror as he finished with his tie looking for anything that could possibly be criticized by his father. Brandon came out of the bathroom in cargo shorts and a t-shirt, acceptable for them on P-Day only; not acceptable to meet the new President, not in Austin‘s eyes at least.
“Brandon, you have to wear a suit.”
“But it’s my one day off! Besides, I don‘t have anything clean. Laundry day, remember?”
“My father doesn’t believe in days off. Look, I’ve got one shirt left, you can wear that.”
“Hey, it’s going to be okay, Austin. We’re good missionaries, we have a great reputation with the local members, it’s just another day, okay? He’s the MP today, not your father. Just treat him like you did Brother Larson. Deep breath, man.”
Austin tried to calm down. He grabbed his shoeshine kit and put a mirror finish on his Sunday shoes. Brandon eyed him but didn’t say anything.
The rode their bikes to the MP’s designated house and knocked. A stiff, grey-faced woman with the appearance of beauty lost years ago answered.
“Hello, Austin.”
“Mom.”
“Well, your father is wanting to see you, he went through the zone records and saw that you’ve not had a baptism yet.” She looked disappointed.
“Sorry, Mom,” Austin mumbled as they entered the house.
Brandon stopped in front of her and stuck his hand out, “Hello, Sister Young. I’m Elder Christensen. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
She looked baffled, but took his hand. A voice boomed out from deeper inside the house.
“The one missionary that’s managed to do the Lord’s work, eh? President Young, son.”
The two shook hands, Austin stood to the side, shuffling back and forth nervously.
“Not rubbed off on my boy yet, have you? Well, give it time, give it time,” Brother Young huffed sharply and turned to Austin, giving him a small, tight nod. “Son.”
Austin nodded at his father’s address. “Sir.”
Brandon looked between the two of them and interjected, “I gotta tell you, your son has rubbed off on me, I mean to say, he’s a great missionary. Very dedicated. We’ve made a lot of contacts because of him.” Brandon gave Austin’s shoulder a squeeze in an attempt to pull him into the conversation.
“Is that so? Well, let’s see about turning those contacts into members and then I’ll get excited. Austin, you go help your mother carry some of those boxes out of the hallway so we can get this place in order. Elder Christensen? Follow me, I want to talk about some of your fellow missionaries. I’ve heard some stories . . .”
They wandered off, Brandon chancing a look over his shoulder, his face an apology. Austin sighed and grabbed a box. “Where do you want this, Mom?”
“In the bedroom, of course, it says so on the side.”
*****
After a few hours of laboring, incurring several tsks and pained sighs from his mother for not intuitively knowing what she wanted, all of the boxes were in their right places. Brandon and Austin’s father had finished up about that time, as well. Brandon came out of the office looking green around the edges.
Austin’s father looked normal, which was to say, gruff and no nonsense.
“I expect someone of your reputation to set the perfect example, Elder. I want the rest of the boys in this mission to look to you for the proper way to behave. You are the standard bearer. Son? I expect nothing less from you than perfection. You’ve got it in you, don’t shirk your duty. You two run along now. I’m sure you have laundry to do and contacts to make.”
Brother Young turned his back on them, looking over a pile of letters. Their meeting was over. Austin nudged Brandon with his elbow and started walking out.
“Don’t you want to hug your mom? Say goodbye?” Brandon hissed.
“No. She‘s not expecting that, anyway.”
Safely outside, they swung legs over their bikes and pedaled away, staying silent for a few minutes as they navigated the busy roads back to their apartment. Brandon broke the silence with a long whistle.
“Man, you weren’t kidding.”
“That was a good day, he wasn’t knocking me in the back of the head or taking a belt to beat the devils out.”
Brandon shuddered. “I thought you were exaggerating.”
“So what did you two have to talk about for two hours?”
Brandon spun his pedals back, braking hard. “Oh my gosh, Austin. It’s awful. Probably one of the worst things that could have happened. Poor guy. So stupid!”
“Feel like letting me in on the big secret?”
Brandon looked up, his face visibly pained. “It’s Sorensen. He got busted with a girl.”
“What? What are you talking about, he’s the last guy I’d ever think-”
“I know. Honestly, I think it just looks bad, I don’t think he really did anything. That family that kept having them over for dinner had a daughter.”
Austin rolled his eyes, “Of course they did.”
“No, it’s not like that, I’m sure of it. Well, no, I’m not, actually. His new companion found him writing letters to someone, and when Sorensen was in the shower, the guy snooped, saw it was to a girl and they were pretty racy. Long and the short of it, the guy ratted on him to the old MP, and he didn’t want anything on his record, so he left it for your dad.”
Austin looked horrified. “What are they going to do? I mean, they were just letters, right?”
“He’s being sent home. They have a court set up. He’ll probably be disfellowshipped. I can’t imagine them ex’ing him over some letters, though.”
“You don’t know my dad. Oh my gosh. Poor guy. When is he leaving?”
“Left. This morning. Your dad and another District Leader showed up and told him to pack up then and there.”
Austin grabbed a nearby rubbish bin to steady himself. His stomach may have been twisting before, but now it was in absolute knots. That sort of reaction over romantic letters?
Brandon worried a loose bit of tar in the road with the toe of his shoe. “Come on, we better head back. He gave me a list of things to do as long as my arm.”
****
Over the next several days, Brandon had so many responsibilities thrust upon him that he was unable to go tracting with Austin; Austin went on “splits” with another group of missionaries. The only time that Brandon and Austin saw each other now was at night and for breakfast. They had made the decision to put the bedroom back to how it was supposed to be, in case any other members of the mission came by on business. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see what they had done to the bed. A very clear mission rule was to never share a bed with your companion.
Oops.
The feeling of being connected to something larger than himself, the fire that had been lit inside of him was slowly being extinguished. The missionaries he was now spending his days with were dull and mindless, doing everything by the book with no discussion among themselves. Austin stopped paying attention to the things he said, to the steady stream of “No me gusta” and “gracias, no“ when the home owner opened the door and saw the familiar white shirt and black name tag looking back.
Brandon was so stressed by all the extra work he had that he was barely eating, and he certainly wasn’t able to get to bed at the same time as Austin. Days passed into one another with nothing to distinguish them. One night while lying in bed, listening to Brandon talk to a branch president on the phone, Austin realized that he wasn’t committing any sins now, and found it funny that he certainly wasn’t feeling any renewed sense of the Spirit or happiness as a result.
A few weeks after the change in personnel, they had a bit of a break. Heavy rains and electric storms rolled off the ocean, pummeling the city; there would be no leaving the house, not on the lightning rods that were their bikes, at least.
They looked at each other over the empty breakfast dishes, a hint of a smile beginning to form on both of their faces.
“Better make a quick call to Sister Guell and let her know we aren’t making the meeting today with their contacts.” Brandon was on his feet and on the phone in a split second.
Austin opened the front door and looked out at the bruise-colored sky. A jet of electricity shot across the clouds. “Whoa.”
Brandon came up behind him, sliding a hand up his back and burying his fingers in Austin’s hair. Austin grabbed the door handle and swung it shut and there was Brandon, their lips together, their hands struggling to pull off their suits without losing contact, their feet tripping over each other to find something to lean against.
“Missed… you,” Austin breathed, his hands working on Brandon’s slacks.
“Didn’t think,” Brandon stopped to pull his half-buttoned shirt and G’s over his head, tossing them to the floor, “I get to be with you again, thought he’d transfer you or something.”
They both stilled at that, reveling in the entire day stretched in front of them with nothing to do but be together. Austin braced his elbows against the wall and leaned in to trace Brandon’s lower lip with his tongue, exhaling into his mouth when Brandon gripped his backside and pulled their bodies closer.
Austin felt the urgency in Brandon; it matched his own. He impatiently moved his hips up and down, lightly rubbing their cocks against each other through the fabric of their remaining clothes. Brandon unzipped Austin’s trousers and slid them down his hips, following the silky fabric down.
Austin rested his forehead against the wall, sighing when Brandon took him in his mouth. He couldn’t help his hips rocking forward, nor his hands gripping Brandon’s soft, dark hair as pressure, wonderful, fulfilling pressure built up inside of him. He pulled Brandon up to kiss him as he stroked himself, climaxing with a shudder.
Brandon ran his hands up and down Austin’s sides, kneading Austin’s backside and nibbling on his ear. “Can we try something?”
Austin felt lightheaded and breathless. He chewed on his lower lip, prompting Brandon to soothe, “I’ll stop if you want me to, okay?”
Austin grabbed the table’s edge in front of him, eyes closed, and both fear and excitement coursing through him. Brandon covered his naked body with his own, kissing and biting along Austin’s thick shoulder, his hands massaging below. Austin hissed when Brandon slid the first knuckle of his finger inside, expecting a sharp pain. It wasn’t so bad.
Brandon began slowly pumping his finger in and out, going deeper with each thrust. Austin bore down, biting his lip. It wasn’t the best feeling, he decided.
“Wait. We need… like, lotion or something? Oil?” Austin blushed at the word “oil,” as it sounded so licentious to him.
“We don’t have… oh. Um, hold on.” Brandon left, went into their bedroom, and came out a few minutes later looking sheepish. He had what looked like a large, golden bullet on a keychain in his hand.
“It’s not been blessed yet, this isn’t my normal one,” Brandon quickly explained.
Well. If Austin wasn’t going to hell before, he certainly thought he would be now. Brandon unscrewed the lid of his consecrated oil - not yet consecrated - and poured a small amount into his palm. He rubbed his palm between Austin’s legs, drawing out a low moan from him.
Brandon sighed, “I love your deep voice, have I said that yet?”
Austin’s breath hitched at the use of “love.” Brandon continued to rub his fingers between Austin’s legs, but this time, when he inserted a finger, it didn’t hurt.
“Just… go slow, okay?”
“I’ll try. I will, I will.”
After a moment of Brandon trying to ease Austin into this, Austin realized he was getting hard again. If he stroked himself while Brandon continued, it felt amazingly good.
“I can’t wait… I need you,” Brandon breathed.
Austin braced himself, and instinctively spread his legs wider. He could hear the metallic sound of a lid being unscrewed. Brandon held their bodies close, thrusting his hips slowly, drawing his cock back and forth between the slick wetness of Austin’s thighs.
Austin groaned as Brandon covered his hand on his cock and helped him stroke himself while still pleasuring himself between the slick heat of Austin’s thighs.
Austin arched his back slightly and Brandon pushed himself in, slowly. He hissed in agony; this wasn’t the same as earlier. Brandon pulled out and caught Austin’s chin and turned his face to meet his lips.
“Shhh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Austin kissed him back with force, “Don’t stop. Just… easy.”
Brandon dropped his face to Austin’s shoulder, “You’re killing me.” His laugh against Austin’s skin sent chills down his back.
Brandon tried again, pushing in slightly further this time, but held Austin open to ease his pain.
“That’s better, ah-!”
They established a rhythm, moving slowly, Brandon going deeper in tiny increments until Austin gave the word. Brandon rest his forehead against Austin’s back, gripping his shoulders for support; Austin leaned forward against the table, arching his back and coming up on his toes with each thrust.
“Austin, I can’t… I have to-”
Brandon thrust forward in quick repetition with such force Austin lost his grip and fell onto his forearms on the table. Brandon grabbed his waist and continued thrusting, completely lost in his own sensations. Austin felt a swirl of cold air against his legs but it didn‘t register over the sensations Brandon was causing.
“Oh, god… oh, my god… love you so much, Austin!”
Spent, he fell forward, covering Austin’s bare back with his chest, his hands gripping Austin to him tightly. Austin’s head was spinning; no one had ever said they loved him before. It was perfect.
“What in God’s name are you doing to my son?!”
The cold air. The hastily shut door. Every muscle in his body froze; he felt Brandon tense and then nothing, as if he’d been pulled off him. Austin whirled around, his hands in front of himself to hide his nakedness. Brandon was getting up off the floor several feet away. His father had pulled him off, then.
“What did he do to you son, are you alright? What in the hell is going on here?”
His father. The Mission President was in his house. Had seen…
“Get some clothes on, you despicable… I should punch you square in the mouth, you filthy pervert. How you could have been made a leader- Disgusting!”
Austin’s head was swimming, he could see Brandon stammering and trying to pick his clothes off the ground, his father, oh, his father! His hair stood on end, his jowls were shaking, his eyes were rolling wild in their sockets as he took in the scene.
Brandon, his face panicked, trying to explain, to say something. Austin couldn’t move. His worst fear had come to pass and he was awe struck by the horror of it all.
“Goddammit, Austin cover yourself! Absolutely obscene! What is wrong with you, not defending yourself against…. Against a pansy! How could you let him do this to you? I’m not speaking to you!” he shouted as Brandon again tried to say something.
Brandon had his pants on and his shirt haphazardly thrown over his head. His father was taking him by the elbow and dragging him out into the storm. Austin watched this all from a place deep inside himself, unable to face the enormity of the situation. He registered the fact that Brandon didn’t have any shoes on.
He heard a car door slam over a loud boom of thunder in the distance. His father came storming back into the doorway, shouting, “What have you done? This will kill your mother. In my mission? You do this in my mission?”
His father slammed the door with such force, the frame cracked along the top. Austin began heaving in air; his head was spinning. Something so wonderful, something he’d waited for his whole life ripped away and made into something so ugly, forever ruined by his father‘s presence. He looked down at his nakedness and was ashamed.
The conclusion...
Title: And It Came To Pass [6/7]
Author: Stoney
Summary: Two guys on an LDS mission come out of the closet and put their houses in order. About as blasphemous (to Mormons) as it gets, so leave your religious piety at the door, or move along.
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Meta on the LDS church within, but nice and buried so it doesn't (hopefully) read like an encyclopedia. This all started from the MormonsExposed.com calendar featuring these two guys (last names made up by me so I won't get sued) AUSTIN YOUNG and BRANDON CHRISTENSEN. This is a made up story, anything resembling reality is coincidental.
Previous chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]
* * * * *
CHAPTER SIX
* * * * *
“And by their desires and their works you shall know them” (D-C 18:38)
"Reconcile yourself to the will of God" (2 Nephi 10:23 )
“In the Church, we enjoy the companionship of other members. We mutually help and inspire one another to live as Christ lives. This companionship gives strength to endure the challenges of daily life and to avoid temptation. - 6th Missionary Discussion
They went about their usual morning routine with the addition of setting aside their laundry; it was P-Day. Instead of a relaxing day of possibly hanging out with the other missionaries, they would instead be meeting with the new Mission President first thing after breakfast and morning study.
Austin examined himself in the mirror as he finished with his tie looking for anything that could possibly be criticized by his father. Brandon came out of the bathroom in cargo shorts and a t-shirt, acceptable for them on P-Day only; not acceptable to meet the new President, not in Austin‘s eyes at least.
“Brandon, you have to wear a suit.”
“But it’s my one day off! Besides, I don‘t have anything clean. Laundry day, remember?”
“My father doesn’t believe in days off. Look, I’ve got one shirt left, you can wear that.”
“Hey, it’s going to be okay, Austin. We’re good missionaries, we have a great reputation with the local members, it’s just another day, okay? He’s the MP today, not your father. Just treat him like you did Brother Larson. Deep breath, man.”
Austin tried to calm down. He grabbed his shoeshine kit and put a mirror finish on his Sunday shoes. Brandon eyed him but didn’t say anything.
The rode their bikes to the MP’s designated house and knocked. A stiff, grey-faced woman with the appearance of beauty lost years ago answered.
“Hello, Austin.”
“Mom.”
“Well, your father is wanting to see you, he went through the zone records and saw that you’ve not had a baptism yet.” She looked disappointed.
“Sorry, Mom,” Austin mumbled as they entered the house.
Brandon stopped in front of her and stuck his hand out, “Hello, Sister Young. I’m Elder Christensen. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
She looked baffled, but took his hand. A voice boomed out from deeper inside the house.
“The one missionary that’s managed to do the Lord’s work, eh? President Young, son.”
The two shook hands, Austin stood to the side, shuffling back and forth nervously.
“Not rubbed off on my boy yet, have you? Well, give it time, give it time,” Brother Young huffed sharply and turned to Austin, giving him a small, tight nod. “Son.”
Austin nodded at his father’s address. “Sir.”
Brandon looked between the two of them and interjected, “I gotta tell you, your son has rubbed off on me, I mean to say, he’s a great missionary. Very dedicated. We’ve made a lot of contacts because of him.” Brandon gave Austin’s shoulder a squeeze in an attempt to pull him into the conversation.
“Is that so? Well, let’s see about turning those contacts into members and then I’ll get excited. Austin, you go help your mother carry some of those boxes out of the hallway so we can get this place in order. Elder Christensen? Follow me, I want to talk about some of your fellow missionaries. I’ve heard some stories . . .”
They wandered off, Brandon chancing a look over his shoulder, his face an apology. Austin sighed and grabbed a box. “Where do you want this, Mom?”
“In the bedroom, of course, it says so on the side.”
*****
After a few hours of laboring, incurring several tsks and pained sighs from his mother for not intuitively knowing what she wanted, all of the boxes were in their right places. Brandon and Austin’s father had finished up about that time, as well. Brandon came out of the office looking green around the edges.
Austin’s father looked normal, which was to say, gruff and no nonsense.
“I expect someone of your reputation to set the perfect example, Elder. I want the rest of the boys in this mission to look to you for the proper way to behave. You are the standard bearer. Son? I expect nothing less from you than perfection. You’ve got it in you, don’t shirk your duty. You two run along now. I’m sure you have laundry to do and contacts to make.”
Brother Young turned his back on them, looking over a pile of letters. Their meeting was over. Austin nudged Brandon with his elbow and started walking out.
“Don’t you want to hug your mom? Say goodbye?” Brandon hissed.
“No. She‘s not expecting that, anyway.”
Safely outside, they swung legs over their bikes and pedaled away, staying silent for a few minutes as they navigated the busy roads back to their apartment. Brandon broke the silence with a long whistle.
“Man, you weren’t kidding.”
“That was a good day, he wasn’t knocking me in the back of the head or taking a belt to beat the devils out.”
Brandon shuddered. “I thought you were exaggerating.”
“So what did you two have to talk about for two hours?”
Brandon spun his pedals back, braking hard. “Oh my gosh, Austin. It’s awful. Probably one of the worst things that could have happened. Poor guy. So stupid!”
“Feel like letting me in on the big secret?”
Brandon looked up, his face visibly pained. “It’s Sorensen. He got busted with a girl.”
“What? What are you talking about, he’s the last guy I’d ever think-”
“I know. Honestly, I think it just looks bad, I don’t think he really did anything. That family that kept having them over for dinner had a daughter.”
Austin rolled his eyes, “Of course they did.”
“No, it’s not like that, I’m sure of it. Well, no, I’m not, actually. His new companion found him writing letters to someone, and when Sorensen was in the shower, the guy snooped, saw it was to a girl and they were pretty racy. Long and the short of it, the guy ratted on him to the old MP, and he didn’t want anything on his record, so he left it for your dad.”
Austin looked horrified. “What are they going to do? I mean, they were just letters, right?”
“He’s being sent home. They have a court set up. He’ll probably be disfellowshipped. I can’t imagine them ex’ing him over some letters, though.”
“You don’t know my dad. Oh my gosh. Poor guy. When is he leaving?”
“Left. This morning. Your dad and another District Leader showed up and told him to pack up then and there.”
Austin grabbed a nearby rubbish bin to steady himself. His stomach may have been twisting before, but now it was in absolute knots. That sort of reaction over romantic letters?
Brandon worried a loose bit of tar in the road with the toe of his shoe. “Come on, we better head back. He gave me a list of things to do as long as my arm.”
****
Over the next several days, Brandon had so many responsibilities thrust upon him that he was unable to go tracting with Austin; Austin went on “splits” with another group of missionaries. The only time that Brandon and Austin saw each other now was at night and for breakfast. They had made the decision to put the bedroom back to how it was supposed to be, in case any other members of the mission came by on business. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see what they had done to the bed. A very clear mission rule was to never share a bed with your companion.
Oops.
The feeling of being connected to something larger than himself, the fire that had been lit inside of him was slowly being extinguished. The missionaries he was now spending his days with were dull and mindless, doing everything by the book with no discussion among themselves. Austin stopped paying attention to the things he said, to the steady stream of “No me gusta” and “gracias, no“ when the home owner opened the door and saw the familiar white shirt and black name tag looking back.
Brandon was so stressed by all the extra work he had that he was barely eating, and he certainly wasn’t able to get to bed at the same time as Austin. Days passed into one another with nothing to distinguish them. One night while lying in bed, listening to Brandon talk to a branch president on the phone, Austin realized that he wasn’t committing any sins now, and found it funny that he certainly wasn’t feeling any renewed sense of the Spirit or happiness as a result.
A few weeks after the change in personnel, they had a bit of a break. Heavy rains and electric storms rolled off the ocean, pummeling the city; there would be no leaving the house, not on the lightning rods that were their bikes, at least.
They looked at each other over the empty breakfast dishes, a hint of a smile beginning to form on both of their faces.
“Better make a quick call to Sister Guell and let her know we aren’t making the meeting today with their contacts.” Brandon was on his feet and on the phone in a split second.
Austin opened the front door and looked out at the bruise-colored sky. A jet of electricity shot across the clouds. “Whoa.”
Brandon came up behind him, sliding a hand up his back and burying his fingers in Austin’s hair. Austin grabbed the door handle and swung it shut and there was Brandon, their lips together, their hands struggling to pull off their suits without losing contact, their feet tripping over each other to find something to lean against.
“Missed… you,” Austin breathed, his hands working on Brandon’s slacks.
“Didn’t think,” Brandon stopped to pull his half-buttoned shirt and G’s over his head, tossing them to the floor, “I get to be with you again, thought he’d transfer you or something.”
They both stilled at that, reveling in the entire day stretched in front of them with nothing to do but be together. Austin braced his elbows against the wall and leaned in to trace Brandon’s lower lip with his tongue, exhaling into his mouth when Brandon gripped his backside and pulled their bodies closer.
Austin felt the urgency in Brandon; it matched his own. He impatiently moved his hips up and down, lightly rubbing their cocks against each other through the fabric of their remaining clothes. Brandon unzipped Austin’s trousers and slid them down his hips, following the silky fabric down.
Austin rested his forehead against the wall, sighing when Brandon took him in his mouth. He couldn’t help his hips rocking forward, nor his hands gripping Brandon’s soft, dark hair as pressure, wonderful, fulfilling pressure built up inside of him. He pulled Brandon up to kiss him as he stroked himself, climaxing with a shudder.
Brandon ran his hands up and down Austin’s sides, kneading Austin’s backside and nibbling on his ear. “Can we try something?”
Austin felt lightheaded and breathless. He chewed on his lower lip, prompting Brandon to soothe, “I’ll stop if you want me to, okay?”
Austin grabbed the table’s edge in front of him, eyes closed, and both fear and excitement coursing through him. Brandon covered his naked body with his own, kissing and biting along Austin’s thick shoulder, his hands massaging below. Austin hissed when Brandon slid the first knuckle of his finger inside, expecting a sharp pain. It wasn’t so bad.
Brandon began slowly pumping his finger in and out, going deeper with each thrust. Austin bore down, biting his lip. It wasn’t the best feeling, he decided.
“Wait. We need… like, lotion or something? Oil?” Austin blushed at the word “oil,” as it sounded so licentious to him.
“We don’t have… oh. Um, hold on.” Brandon left, went into their bedroom, and came out a few minutes later looking sheepish. He had what looked like a large, golden bullet on a keychain in his hand.
“It’s not been blessed yet, this isn’t my normal one,” Brandon quickly explained.
Well. If Austin wasn’t going to hell before, he certainly thought he would be now. Brandon unscrewed the lid of his consecrated oil - not yet consecrated - and poured a small amount into his palm. He rubbed his palm between Austin’s legs, drawing out a low moan from him.
Brandon sighed, “I love your deep voice, have I said that yet?”
Austin’s breath hitched at the use of “love.” Brandon continued to rub his fingers between Austin’s legs, but this time, when he inserted a finger, it didn’t hurt.
“Just… go slow, okay?”
“I’ll try. I will, I will.”
After a moment of Brandon trying to ease Austin into this, Austin realized he was getting hard again. If he stroked himself while Brandon continued, it felt amazingly good.
“I can’t wait… I need you,” Brandon breathed.
Austin braced himself, and instinctively spread his legs wider. He could hear the metallic sound of a lid being unscrewed. Brandon held their bodies close, thrusting his hips slowly, drawing his cock back and forth between the slick wetness of Austin’s thighs.
Austin groaned as Brandon covered his hand on his cock and helped him stroke himself while still pleasuring himself between the slick heat of Austin’s thighs.
Austin arched his back slightly and Brandon pushed himself in, slowly. He hissed in agony; this wasn’t the same as earlier. Brandon pulled out and caught Austin’s chin and turned his face to meet his lips.
“Shhh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Austin kissed him back with force, “Don’t stop. Just… easy.”
Brandon dropped his face to Austin’s shoulder, “You’re killing me.” His laugh against Austin’s skin sent chills down his back.
Brandon tried again, pushing in slightly further this time, but held Austin open to ease his pain.
“That’s better, ah-!”
They established a rhythm, moving slowly, Brandon going deeper in tiny increments until Austin gave the word. Brandon rest his forehead against Austin’s back, gripping his shoulders for support; Austin leaned forward against the table, arching his back and coming up on his toes with each thrust.
“Austin, I can’t… I have to-”
Brandon thrust forward in quick repetition with such force Austin lost his grip and fell onto his forearms on the table. Brandon grabbed his waist and continued thrusting, completely lost in his own sensations. Austin felt a swirl of cold air against his legs but it didn‘t register over the sensations Brandon was causing.
“Oh, god… oh, my god… love you so much, Austin!”
Spent, he fell forward, covering Austin’s bare back with his chest, his hands gripping Austin to him tightly. Austin’s head was spinning; no one had ever said they loved him before. It was perfect.
“What in God’s name are you doing to my son?!”
The cold air. The hastily shut door. Every muscle in his body froze; he felt Brandon tense and then nothing, as if he’d been pulled off him. Austin whirled around, his hands in front of himself to hide his nakedness. Brandon was getting up off the floor several feet away. His father had pulled him off, then.
“What did he do to you son, are you alright? What in the hell is going on here?”
His father. The Mission President was in his house. Had seen…
“Get some clothes on, you despicable… I should punch you square in the mouth, you filthy pervert. How you could have been made a leader- Disgusting!”
Austin’s head was swimming, he could see Brandon stammering and trying to pick his clothes off the ground, his father, oh, his father! His hair stood on end, his jowls were shaking, his eyes were rolling wild in their sockets as he took in the scene.
Brandon, his face panicked, trying to explain, to say something. Austin couldn’t move. His worst fear had come to pass and he was awe struck by the horror of it all.
“Goddammit, Austin cover yourself! Absolutely obscene! What is wrong with you, not defending yourself against…. Against a pansy! How could you let him do this to you? I’m not speaking to you!” he shouted as Brandon again tried to say something.
Brandon had his pants on and his shirt haphazardly thrown over his head. His father was taking him by the elbow and dragging him out into the storm. Austin watched this all from a place deep inside himself, unable to face the enormity of the situation. He registered the fact that Brandon didn’t have any shoes on.
He heard a car door slam over a loud boom of thunder in the distance. His father came storming back into the doorway, shouting, “What have you done? This will kill your mother. In my mission? You do this in my mission?”
His father slammed the door with such force, the frame cracked along the top. Austin began heaving in air; his head was spinning. Something so wonderful, something he’d waited for his whole life ripped away and made into something so ugly, forever ruined by his father‘s presence. He looked down at his nakedness and was ashamed.
The conclusion...