It's Hard To Be Holy

EP. 65: Chapter X

Coarse and Offensive Language. Sexual Content. Reader Discretion Advised.

The men's bathroom of Evelyn's was a dirtier place than it need have been. Single occupancy in build, but chaotically fitted with three extra urinals, with walls bedecked in all sorts of graffiti messages that had no rhyme or reason for being, except the reasoning of drunks who thought such petty vandalism the pinnacle of great humor.

Mr. Professor stood waiting by the lone sink, fidgeting with the taps, and when Bed entered, he took his own deep breath of decision, and said, 'lock the door.'

'No one's out there,' said Bud wanting to show the man that he'd no fear, that he preferred risk. But Mr. Professor, rightly reading his words as a sign of naivety, crossed the bathroom in two strides, pressing a hand against Bud's chest, while the other reached out to lock the door. He was much taller than Bud had first noticed at the bar. Much taller.

'I can be interesting,' said the bearded man, his hand toying distractedly at Bud's breast, and the discoloration of the ring finger made the young man brim with startling pride.

Everybody wants what they can't have, what they shouldn't have.

Everybody wants me.

I will be loved.

'I can be very fucking interesting,' said Mr. Professor, pressing closer to Bud, the aroma of cheap aftershave and whiskey wafting more pungently off of him now that they were alone together.

'Are you gonna keep tellin' me, or you gonna fuckin' show me?'

Mr. Professor did not react in the immediate. His hand kept traversing the row of buttons on Bud's shirt, restive and irritable. He looked lost. 'Yeah...I...I...' He inclined his face forward, brushing against Bud's cheek and down his neck, his lips hovering. 'I am,' he whispered into the curve of the neck. 'I am...I-fucking-am!'

Bud wriggled at the feeling of the warm breath, the prickling of the beard, but when there was no further action, when he tried to speak, to keep teasing, all that came from him was a soft groan.

Now! Now! Don't make me wait! Don't tease me! Show me you care! I want to know! Now! Now!

'Have you ever...'

'No,' lied the St. Gregorite.

'You sure you want—'

'Yes!' Now! Now! Now! 'Yes!'

'You're trembling.'

Fuck you.

'Don't be scared.'

'I'm not,' Bud lied again.

'How do you feel when I...' and ground his pelvis into Bud, and Alfonso Ignatius (the Second) felt his own covered prominence expand with in its shelter. 'And this?' The hand picked and squeezed at the buttons on the young man's shirt and slid across his flat and bare chest, cupping at what breast he could find, pinching the nipple between his fingers, twisting from side to side.

Yes! Yes! Love me!

'No,' ordered Mr. Professor with the most attractive amount of authoritarianism, as Bud tried to reach for the educator's hips. 'Just breath.'

'I want—'

'Be patient then,' said Mr. Professor, in his element, true hunter at last, 'relax.'

'I can't,' Bud fluttered, his whole body frozen and contorted with anticipation against that less than pleasing wall.

'Try,' and the bearded man bent at his knees and placed his head forward as he trailed his tongue across Bud's pinched flesh. 'Try!'