Page 45 of The Associate
But it says… But they told us… But it’s an abomination…
Elias cut him off, his gaze unwavering. “Love is never a bad thing, Samuel. Love is God.” He said it with a conviction that felt solid as stone. “It’s people that are bad. Hateful. Deceitful. You should feartheirjudgment, not the Almighty’s.”
Samuel stared, his mind reeling, the cigarette forgotten, smoldering between his fingers. He wanted to say something. What? He didn’t know, but even if he did, it was already too late.
Elias moved.
He leaned in, closing the distance Samuel had left. There was no hesitation, no asking. His lips met Samuel’s.
They were soft. Slightly chapped from the cold night air. The kiss was gentle, a tender, questioning pressure. For a second, Samuel froze, every muscle rigid with shock and terror. His breath stuttered to a stop in his throat.
Elias’s hand came up, his palm cool against Samuel’s feverish cheek, a steadying anchor.
And then, something broke. The confusion, the trepidation; it melted under the warmth of that touch. It transformed. The fear became a frantic pulse, the shame became a desperate, aching need. He kissed back, a clumsy, eager press of his own lips.
Elias made a soft, approving sound against his mouth. The hand on his cheek slid back, fingers tangling in Samuel’s hair with a possessive grip that made Samuel whimper.
The kiss deepened. Elias’s tongue swept against Samuel’s lips, a hot, wet question, and Samuel opened for him with a shuddering sigh. The taste of smoke and something uniquely Elias flooded his senses.
In the next moment, strong hands gripped Samuel’s hips. Before he could process it, Elias pulled, and Samuel found himself tumbled forward, straddling Elias’s lap on the cool earth. The new position was impossibly intimate, terrifyingly electrifying. Elias’s hands slipped beneath the rough wool of Samuel’s jumper, finding the skin of his back.
His palms were warm, calloused. The touch made Samuel shiver violently, a full-body convulsion of pure sensation. He gripped Elias’s wild hair tighter, anchoring himself as the world dissolved into the taste, the heat, the desperate, clawing need…
The world exploded in a searing, white light.
One second they were wrapped in shadow and each other, the next they were pinned like insects under the brutal, unforgiving beam of a heavy-duty flashlight. They sprang apart as if scalded, scrambling back from each other across the dirt.
Samuel’s heart felt like it had stopped entirely. He looked up, squinting against the blinding glare, his vision swimming with after-images.
Standing at the edge of the clearing, the flashlight held like a weapon, was the Director.
∞∞∞
The room was the one they called theReflection Chamber. It was small, windowless, and smelled of old varnish. A single, bare bulb hung from the ceiling, casting a pitiless, unforgiving light that turned every shadow into a deep well and every pale expanse of skin into a glaring canvas.
Samuel knelt on the rough, splintered wood of the floor. The cold bit into his bare knees. He wore only his thin cotton boxers, the fabric feeling absurdly flimsy, a pathetic scrap of modesty that offered no shield.
His torso was exposed, pale and trembling, each rib visible with every shuddering breath he tried to control. He kept his head bowed, his gaze locked on the grain of the wood between his hands, which were pressed flat against his thighs.
Across from him, a few feet away, knelt Elias. Shirtless. In his boxers. His head was not bowed. It was held at a defiant angle, his chin tilted up.
The Director stood behind Elias. He was still in his crisp shirt and tie, as if he’d been interrupted in his office.
“Do you repent for your sins?”
The Director’s voice was calm, measured, and utterly cold.
Samuel’s entire body began to shake, a violent, uncontrollable tremor that made his teeth chatter. He couldn’t look away fromthe boy across from him. His eyes were wide, saucers of pure terror. He stared, pleading, into Elias’s face.
Don’t.
He tried to scream it with his eyes.
Please, just say it. Say you’re sorry. Say anything. Don’t make it worse.
He gave a tiny, frantic shake of his head.
Elias’s gaze met his. For a second, the fury in them softened. He looked at Samuel, really looked, seeing the terror, the begging. A sad, gentle smile touched his swollen, split lip. Then, he winked.
