Afterglow

I came, yelling, "Oh God!" and Fraser was right after me, whispering something I couldn't make out, then adding to the sticky mess between us. I rolled off him, laid on my back on the bed again.

"God." I stared at the ceiling for a while, trying to get my breath back. By the time I turned my head to look at Frase, he was gone, fast asleep.

Fine with me. I could use some time alone. Time to talk to God, thank him for keeping me alive until this happened, despite some of my best efforts. I've got a lot to say to Him, just now. This time right after sex is about the only time I think about God, about the only time I'm religious at all, anymore. I lost that about the same time I married Stella, isn't that freaky? Perform a sacrament, lose your religion.

Stel thought it had all been an act, that once we were married I stopped pretending to be the good Catholic -- the good boy that asked her out after Fellowship meetings, the religious bond that made me just barely acceptable to her folks. But that wasn't it. It had been real to me, but it just wasn't important after the wedding. Maybe it was worshipping her that got in the way, not that I hadn't had her up on a pedestal since we were kids.

Me, I think it was that after we got married, she wanted to talk about day-to-day stuff after sex when I just wanted to think about God. And without some of that one-on-one talk during the week, I didn't have the patience to sit still while some priest who's never seen all the stuff I see out on the streets tells me how to be good for an hour on Sunday. I need some private time, just me and God for a while, or me and my conscience. Whatever. There's nothing like good sex to clear my head, let me hear that still small voice.

Which is sorta what I'm doing now. What I'm hearing, and agreeing with, is that maybe losing Stella wasn't an altogether bad thing, if it led here, and all that stuff about mysterious ways, sure, okay, whatever you say, Lord. But while we're talking, what's the deal with the Church condemning homosexuality? Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know all about temptation and garden paths to Hell, but if kissing Fraser wasn't the sweetest, most loving, most. . . well, most Good thing I'd pretty much ever done, then my conscience is completely whacked and I'm completely, completely screwed. If kissing him is a sin and it still feels so right, then what was the use of those 12 years of Fellowship meetings and CCD?

I turn on my side, to look at him. His mouth is open, slightly. He looked wonderful sleeping on my pillow, between my sheets. The mood I'm in, I bet if he started to snore I'd think it was adorable.

And hey Lord, what was all that about Jonathon and David if it wasn't love like this?

Jesus, I think I'm in love with him. And I'm not swearing when I think that.

Marry Stella and lose my religion, but I go to bed with Fraser and I find it again? I grin at the ceiling.

I love the way he sleeps.

END

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