Bless Me, Father…
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Chapter 1: Unwanted Attraction?
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There were times…when his faith was tested. Those times included when he saw death and injustice, or when he himself turned away from those in need or danger because of potential risk to himself. But right now, it was because of another person.
Long legs, tanned skin, dancing eyes, and a ready smile. These were the times that he wished he could just toss faith out of the window. He was Catholic. And as such, he knew that what he felt was completely wrong. It was obvious that pre-marital sex was wrong. The thoughts he had were most definitely impure in nature. So why did he keep having them? Well, that was pretty simple. He was a sinner.
And the fact that he was a sinner was comforting to him. It was because he was a sinner that he knew it was all right. He could just confess his sins like a good little boy, and be done with it. And then…he could sin all over again. Vicious cycle, right?
Vicious was a very apt term to describe the attraction he felt toward the absolutely radiant person he had to see every day. Now, as he sat at his desk in a cramped cubicle, he could hear that musical voice drifting over from across that padded wall that did little to nothing to muffle the sound. Biting his lip, he tried his best to focus on the account he was working on. But worrying at his own lip made him think of the mouth that was forming those laughing words next door to his little box.
Thinking about that mouth made him think about how it would feel against his, how it would feel to press his own lips to those perfect, full…pouty…oh, God…not now. He could feel blood rushing to the absolute wrong area of his body. It was horrible. Why did this have to happen now? And why couldn’t they just shut up? That way, he wouldn’t have to be fantasizing over what those lips would feel like sliding over his skin, and how wonderful it would be if he could make different sounds come from them.
His hand reached out, and ripped a picture from his bulletin board, and began fanning himself with it. I’m in hell. That’s it. Absolute hell. He could make out what the voice from the other side of the wall was saying now, since it was getting louder.
“Oh, yes. I’m sure she’ll love them. You should definitely give them to her tonight, Sakura.” He then heard a throaty laugh, which sent shivers over him. First hot, then cold…was he getting sick? “But…” The voice sounded unsure of itself. He could just picture those eyes, and the little crinkle between them as a frown began to form. “But Sakura…I don’t think he—“ The voice stopped abruptly. Damn people for taking personal calls… “—no, Sakura. I’m not going to do that!” There was a hint of anger in the voice, and his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. Seeing those eyes in his mind, blazing with anger was almost too much. He was getting hot again.
What in Hell? Am I getting menopause or something? I’m a man. I’m not supposed to have hot flashes…
Suddenly, he heard the phone being violently slammed down, and that made him jump. In a growl that he barely made out, he heard, “Damned nosy lesbian bitches…” Now, that was different. He had never heard a swear word pass those lips before. It got him thinking what other dirty words he might coax from them, if given the right encouragement. Now, using a five by seven inch photo wasn’t enough fan for him. He felt like he was frying. And really, he could have been. His brain certainly was.
The sound of footsteps nearing the entrance to his cubicle alerted him that he would have a visitor momentarily, and he tacked the picture back up before sliding himself as close to the desk as possible, so that whoever it was wouldn’t see his now very painful erection. He cursed himself for having a vivid imagination, but more so for having raging hormones. Honestly, he was twenty-five years old. They should have toned themselves down by now.
But oh, that was not the case. The sound of feet treading softly on carpet stopped, right in front of the entrance to his little box. Looking up, sweating slightly, he saw…the source of his discomfort.
His cubicle let out to an aisle which was, thankfully, next to windows. It allowed him to see when it was getting dark. Otherwise he would work into the night, and fall asleep here. But right now, as he looked up to see light spilling over the beautifully suited person before him, he cursed those windows. Light filtered through golden hair, and shone in deep blue eyes, outlined dark blue wool of a suit jacket, and illuminated concerned features.
“Are you okay, Sasuke?” Those blue eyes widened at his own look of shock.
“I’m fine,” he groused, “now leave me alone, Naruto.”
“You sure? You look a little flushed. And you’re sweaty.” The blonde man leaned into the cubicle, laying slender fingers on Sasuke’s forehead. He felt like his skin tingled under that touch. It was gentle, yet firm. Oh, God…stop touching me, please…no…don’t stop…yes…no…shit! Shut the hell up! This inner debate went on as his terror increased when Naruto pushed his body through the small opening, and came to sit on his desk. “Sasuke, you don’t have a fever, but you look like you need some fresh air. Come with me to lunch?”
Sasuke blinked dark eyes up at him, staring dumbly. He was still trying to process that as Naruto grabbed his black suit jacket and tossed it to him, and it fell onto his head. Sasuke’s hands reached slowly up and pulled the fabric away from his now glaring face. He looked at the clock. “It’s only eleven.”
“Yeah…but I’m hungry, and you look like you’re gonna pass out. Come on, Stone Face. Let’s make like trees.” That had Sasuke blinking in confusion. “Make like trees and leave, Sasuke. Jesus, you act like you don’t have a sense of humor…” Sasuke growled something about not having one at all, and how he better cut out the blasphemy before he kicked his face in, but he stood, making sure to keep his jacket in front of his crotch. The last thing he wanted was to have to explain to this man that he had a hard-on because of…well…listening to him talk to his lesbian friend, Sakura.
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“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned…” he began the little ritual of confession, which he did once every week. “It has been one week since my last confession. Since then, I have sworn numerous times, and had impure thoughts. About another man.”
A throat cleared on the other side of the partition. “My son, you are aware that homosexual relations are one of the worst sins are you not?”
“Yes, Father. I’m well aware. Otherwise, I would not be here.”
“That’s good. You must try to suppress these feelings, my son.”
“I have been, Father. It’s just…this man is different. I don’t know how to explain it. I feel drawn to him, Father. It’s like he shines. From the inside. He’s one of those people. He makes everybody happy. He makes me happy, Father.”
Fingers were drumming on something hard on the other side of the screen. “It sounds to me, my son, that it is more than mere attraction you have for this man.”
“What do you mean, Father?”
Clearing his throat, the priest began to speak again. “I do not condone homosexuality, let me make that clear. But you seem to have very deep feelings for this man. Am I correct?”
“I…I don’t know…I…” He hesitated. “F-father, can you just give me my penance, please?” The words came out in a rush. He didn’t want to talk about this anymore.
“Very well. Say five Hail Mary’s and two Our Father’s, and try to examine your feelings on this matter. Love is not a sin, my son.” Eyes widening at the priest’s last words, he burst from the confessional, and for the first time in years, did not stay for mass. Walking quickly, he exited the cathedral. Once outside, he breathed heavily. No. What I have for him is only a passing phase. It’s hormones. Lust. Horribly misplaced lust. God…I need a beer.
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A/N: Well, there's chapter one. Let me know what you think. I'm waiting for reviews. Hungry for them, even. Feed me!
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Chapter notes: children. I have thought of this last night, and I have three chapters written so far. Let me know what you think. If you like, I'll continue. And if anybody knows how to deal with html, or another easier way to have italacs...please tell me. This story needs stress at some points, especially in chapter 3. I'm still new to the site, so any help would be greatly appreciated.
Warnings:
FL--Foul language
Y--Juicy Yaoi fantasies...
Legal Stuffiness: I do not own Naruto, or any of the characters therein. Kishimoto Masashi, sole proprietor. And he owns my soul.