Page 56 of The Associate
Your sin is ever before you.
The grip in his hair; a claiming that had made his very soul shudder.
Create in me a clean heart, O God.
The arch of his own back, the shameless, pleading cant of his hips seeking friction.
And renew a right spirit within me.
The sound he’d made. That raw, shattered keen of pure, animal need.
Cast me not away from your presence.
His stomach clenched, a hard, sick knot of guilt. It was a betrayal of everything he had been taught, everything he had been broken to believe. His body had responded with a fervent, traitorousyeswhile his mind now screamedabomination. The pleasure had been real. It had been the most real, vivid thing he’d felt in years. And that was the worst sin of all.
He saw Gael’s face in the dark behind his eyelids; the intense focus, the dark hunger, the glimpse of something that looked like…awe? Possession?He had let that man see the broken, wanting thing inside him. He had opened a door and shown him the rot, and instead of recoiling, Gael had stepped inside.
Fear was a cold current under the shame. Fear of what came next. Fear of himself. Fear of the terrifying, yawning need that the kiss had unlocked; a need for that silence, for that anchoring control, for the feel of those hands on him, mapping his corruption and calling itgood.
Confusion swirled, thick and choking.
Which was the truth? The peace of surrender, or the punishment that always followed?
The tender press of lips, or the scripture that condemned it?
He was a palimpsest, the old, damning text bleeding through every new sensation.
Paralysis was the only answer. He couldn’t go forward. He couldn’t go back. So he stayed in the dark, in the closet, curled tight around the vortex of his own ruin.
∞∞∞
A low, persistent buzz, followed by a short, melodic trill pierced the silence. It came from the floor just beside his bent knee, where he’d dropped his phone when he’d crawled in.
Samuel tightened his arms around his shins, pressing his forehead harder into his knees. The buzzing was an intrusion, a tether to the world outside his dark, self-made cell.
It stopped. For a handful of breaths, there was only the sound of his own heart, a dull, frantic drum against his ribs. Then it started again.
He didn’t want to look. But his eyes, adjusted to the dark, were dragged to the source. The screen lit up, a sudden, painful rectangle of blue-white in the shadows.
ALINA.
She would be at her desk, her brow furrowed, glancing at his empty chair. She was kind. She didn’t deserve to be pulled into this… this sickness.
The call went to voicemail. The screen went dark.
A minute later, a softer buzz. A text. The screen flashed alive again, this time with a different, briefer glow. The preview text appeared, white on blue.
Where are you? Are you okay?
He stared at the words until the screen timed out and they were swallowed by blackness. His throat was tight. He knew he should pick it up. He should answer, manufacture a lie. A familyemergency. A migraine. Something believable. But the thought of moving, of having to construct a coherent sentence, was a monumental task.
Another buzz. Another flash.
I told Wise you had a stomach bug, but you really need to check in.
A jolt, violent and electric, seized his chest. His heart seemed to stutter, then hammer against his sternum as if trying to escape. His breath hitched.
Gael.
