Chapter Two

Weekly sermons are one of my favorite things.

If I’m ever feeling down, maybe a little lost, I can always count on Head Priest’s words to reaffirm my faith; in the plan, in Mother’s gifts.

In a bigger picture and a higher power.

Walking into temple, however, my excitement is dampened as Kinsey grabs my arm.

“Hi, Abdiel!” She squeals in my ear while I cringe. “You look great.” Her cheeks flush as she bites her lip, and I force myself to smile.

“Thanks, Kins. So do you.”

Her face lights up, and I swallow, worrying I might’ve given the wrong impression with that completely innocuous response.

“I was hoping you’d… maybe… like to sit with me?” Kinsey asks, stuttering as she does.

It makes me feel guilty. Guilty for not finding her as attractive or interesting as she apparently finds me. Guilty for not wanting to sit with her as badly as she clearly wants me to. Guilty for all of the zeal inside me that has nothing to do with her.

I hate feeling guilty.

So I shove it away and use the manners that have been instilled in me since I was small, giving her another forced smile. “I’d love to.”

She squeals again, thankfully quieter this time, and drags me inside the temple. We wave hello to our family as everyone gets seated. Usually, teenagers have a tendency to slink around in the back, but to my surprise, Kinsey tugs me up the aisle to the front row of seats. It’s a mixed bag of feelings about it, since I do love sitting close, although I tend to stay away from the front. I like to avoid being seen or called upon by Head Priest during his sermons. It’s too nerve-racking. I don’t want to embarrass myself.

And yet here we are, front and damn center. My stomach is already churning away while we get settled, the doors behind us closing as, right on schedule, all noise comes to a halt.

Knowing he’ll be here in just a moment has my pulse rapping. I can’t help glancing around me to see if anyone else is having a similar reaction. Sure enough, everyone in the room looks equally eager to see him, to be enraptured by his presence and his thoughtful words. Still, I’m not sure any of these people are as anxious as I am.

When my head tilts left, I see Drake, sitting in the pew reserved for him and the wives. He’s draped in white linen garb, his usual attire for sermons and special holidays. White, a symbol of cleansing and rebirth.

My eyes linger on his black hair, combed back messily, as if done with his fingers, or someone else’s. Drake is another who loves to enjoy the company of many partners. It’s not a big deal in the slightest, since free love is a belief of The Principality. We condone all types of relationships, and sex is celebrated, safely of course.

But aside from Head Priest, Drake is the most mysterious person on the Expanse, with his smoldering looks, high cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass certainly contributing to the enigma. Tall with skin white like alabaster and a way about him that just feels sinful, even if you don’t really know him, which I think none of us truly do.

And then there are the snake eyes. It’s not an exaggeration either. His eyes are two different shades, dark, almost black with rings of amber yellow. They’re probably hazel, but the way they look, like marbles, remind you of a snake’s eyes. Which is fitting, since he’s called the Serpent.

Always lurking in the shadows…

I’m startled when those strange eyes point in my direction. Drake is looking at me now; he’s caught me staring at him. I gulp and quickly look away, though some force compels me to peek at him once more, only to find him still staring at me, smirking while he blinks slowly; studiously. Like a snake.

The hairs on my arms stand up straight, and I focus my vision on my lap, ignoring the strange sensation slinking around inside me.

Movement up at the podium distracts me, and my chin jerks as Head Priest saunters in, confident and poised, ready to address his Regnum. Warmth seeps into my veins.

“Good morning, family,” he croons with a pleasant almost-smile on his chiseled face. “Are we all happy to be here?”

Everyone cheers, which brings on an actual smile. I can’t help but grin along as I clap, since his is infectious. His charisma is unlike anything else, pairing with the way he looks…

Captivating.

I heard my mother say once when I was younger that Darian has the face of a King. At the time, I didn’t know what she meant. But as I’ve grown up, and started watching Head Priest more and more, I have to agree.

He has the kinds of looks that are made to do more in this world. If he were an Outsider, I’m sure he’d be some kind of celebrity. He’s not like Drake, with all those sharp angles. He has lines too, sure, but his look more like they were carved into him. Or rather, that he was carved. As if Mother made him out of stone and bronze, perfect symmetry and a natural glow. From his hair to his eyes, pointed nose, full lips, angled jawline always dusted in dark stubble, sitting atop a body so large, like Goliath, only calmer, more intelligent.

Beautiful, wise, and compelling. Everything a King should be.

I snap out of my daze to realize he’s already started, and now I’m silently kicking myself for missing the beginning of his words.

“Seedlings are being birthed, new life implanted, a continuation to our glorious transformation is upon us,” Darian says. “Our Mother has blessed us more than we can even begin to comprehend. But it’s our job to try. To remain present for everything. To stay interconnected with one another and with ourselves. With Her.”

He steps out from behind the podium and clasps his hands together, in thought. “How do you repay the ultimate sacrifice?”

Everyone remains quiet, knowing his questions are usually rhetorical, unless he decides to call on someone for participation.

“Some sacrifices are for our own benefit, yes?” He goes on. “For example, those tilling the fields. It’s hard work, right? You put the burden on your bodies.” He pauses, looking specifically to the farmers, all of whom are nodding along. “But do you not reap the benefits of the hard work? Grain for bread, hemp for clothing… hops for beer.” He gives a small grin and a few people chuckle. “I just mean, these things aren’t fully selfless. And that’s okay. We’re made to receive when we give. It’s all part of the circle of life.”

He turns, pacing back again as he continues. “But for a true sacrifice, we must understand that there will be no benefit to us. We must be fully selfless. That is what our God has done for us. She has sacrificed herself so that we may live in her place, spreading good deeds and protecting Her at all costs.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, breathing out slowly, fingers trailing his stubbled jaw. I shift in my seat, and when his eyes reopen, he looks in my direction. I stifle a gasp.

They’re black.

His irises… They’re darker now than they were last night. Solitude is coming.

I’m so intrigued that I can barely pay attention to what he says next. His words come in and out as my mind races. Thoughts swirl in my brain, images and wonderings, curiosity rippling through me until I can barely sit still.

My knee begins to bounce, and Kinsey reaches out, placing her hand on it. Immediately my movements cease, and I peer at her. She grins at me from the side as I glance back up to where Head Priest is speaking. He’s talking about becoming one with the earth and giving ourselves fully to the power of rebirth.

“This is our sacrifice,” he rasps, his dark eyes landing on me. I’m not sure, but I think he sees Kinsey’s hand on my knee and his brow quirks; a slight movement as he blinks, right at me.

I can’t swallow. My throat is closing up, and I wiggle subtly in an attempt to get her hand off me, but then he’s back to pacing around casually, talking about unconditional love and devotion of spirit.

I’m so uncomfortable, I don’t know what to do with myself. I suddenly feel very hot, and claustrophobic; like my thoughts and feelings are too big to fit inside my body.

Struggling to focus on Darian, I watch his long legs move when he walks, his large hands rubbing together when he pauses in thought. His lips formulating the words he speaks with clear diction and an even, mastering tone.

The way he speaks, like his presence in general, is entirely dazzling, which is why he’s our Head Priest. I honestly can’t take my eyes off him.

“Outside The Principality is a world that doesn’t care to accept its reality. A dark, merciless possession of evil. Now, as we know, evil is a part of life. Without it, we wouldn’t have good. That contrast is very important, my family. Seeing every side of every situation is a component of the ever-present give and take of the earth. Of our Mother.”

Darian pauses, his eyes fixed left, where his brother sits with his wives. I witness a visible clench in his jaw, a momentary tension that draws me in. His chest seems to be moving more rapidly now, as he looks ahead in silence. My eyes dart to where Drake sits, and as usual, his face gives away nothing. But his head cocks to the side, eyes locked on his brother’s. It looks like they’re having some sort of conversation the rest of us can’t hear.

And the hollowness in my chest gives way to even more of my eternal curiosity.

“Bad isn’t always wrong,” Darian whispers, almost as if he’s not speaking in sermon anymore, but to himself. Or to Drake. “And the right decision is rarely the easiest.” He shakes it off and breaks his staring contest with his brother to turn back to the rest of us. “Strength comes with facing difficulty. And making sacrifices.”

At that, he ends the sermon, talking about tonight’s reflection, and plans for the upcoming festival. Summer Solstice is upon us.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding in.

Once we’re all dismissed, Kinsey and I stand up and chat with a few people. But my eyes remain on Head Priest the whole time. Usually after sermon, he’ll come around and mingle with us, shaking hands and kissing babies, so to speak. But today, he seems on edge. He’s lingering by Drake and the wives, and when I turn back from saying what’s up to Jordan, he’s gone.

Anyone else would think nothing of it, I suppose. But all I can see are those black irises…

All I can think is that the last time he went alone into his lounge was days ago.

Solitude.

“So, you wanna grab something to eat? Or maybe take a walk, or…” Kinsey rambles as we leave the temple, but I cut her off.

“I can’t. Sorry, Kins, but I should really practice for tonight.” I pat her on the shoulder, as platonically as I can.

“Oh… right. Sure!” She smiles wistfully, and I really hate how that look is making me feel. “Well, I’ll see you tonight, then. Can’t wait!”

“Yea. See you then,” I mumble and stagger off, back toward my trailer.

I need to get my head on straight. I have work for a couple of hours before reflection tonight, and I should try to stay sharp. But even though I know these things, it doesn’t stop me from floating around the rest of the day in my thoughts.

I go to work. Cleaning duty. And as I’m polishing the floors in the study, I find myself sneaking closer and closer to the forbidden door of Darian’s lounge.

Really, it’s just a room. We clean in there, so we know what’s inside. It’s nothing crazy. It’s set up like a spare bedroom. And yet I’m still restless to step inside.

I know I shouldn’t, but I’m like a curious kitten right now, pattering up to the door and twisting the handle. It’s unlocked.

Checking over my shoulder, the coast is clear. It’s quiet in the house, or at least on the first floor it is. Everyone’s bedrooms are upstairs. This is the only room with a bed in it that’s down here, which seems interesting to me. And as I slink inside, I’m even more intrigued at the fact that I think this bed is the same size as Darian’s regular bed. It’s huge, and it has those large canopy things surrounding it, tied back like drawn curtains.

Poking around, as silently as possible, I tug on a few drawers, which are locked. I observe a large painting on the wall. I’m sure I’ve seen it before, but I’ve never noticed how… erotic it is.

It’s a man’s body, naked, lying contorted into a rather compromising position. I swallow over my dry throat and turn away, looking out the window. The view of the lake from right here is breathtaking.

And then I notice something.

Hmm…

From where this window is located, one could theoretically look in from outside and see what’s happening in here…

“Abdiel?” Gina’s voice calls from the hall, and I flinch.

“Coming!”

Hustling out of the room, softly closing the door, I scamper back toward her, putting the position of the window to Head Priest’s lounge out of my head as best I can.

For now.

The fire crackles, an easy sound trickling into the quiet that stretches right before we start.

A breath in, hold one second, and then Jordan’s first chord strikes. The crowd of my family is silent, bopping to the music, listening closely and watching us with wide, attentive eyes.

I come in for the first verse, working my namesake.

We don’t believe in last names in The Principality, but elders will usually give you a nickname as your surname, depending on what they decide makes you special; unique.

My name is Abdiel Harmony. And this is why.

Jordan strums me into the chorus of Comedown by Bush, and I see a few people singing along. We may not have much technology access, but the one thing we openly admit to cherishing from the outside world is music. Head Priest feels it’s important to many aspects of life, and I would have to agree since, you know… Harmony.

I peek over at Jordan, and he grins back, singing backup to my second bridge. I love jamming with Jordan. Even more so, I love doing it by a fireside, surrounded by my family. It’s such a chill vibe.

This here is Principality life at its finest. A cup of beer, a joint, and a good acoustic performance by the fire. This is what it’s all about.

Tapping on my leg through the rhythm, I look up and almost fall backward.

He’s here.

Head Priest is here, watching me. He’s on the far side of the fire, grinning and giving little casual waves to people who acknowledge his presence, though refusing to speak and interrupt the performance. He’s like that.

Respectful, sweet. Just a generally great guy.

Okay, focus.

I ignore the warmth flooding my limbs and keep singing. It must be from the fire, all this heat… I’m fine.

We finish up the song and everyone cheers. I smile politely, trying not to focus on Darian, though I can’t stop peeking toward where he sits, Lauris at his side, grinning and sipping from her Effortlessly Awesome mug she uses for everything. And I can’t help but fixate on the fact that they aren’t holding hands or touching at all.

This isn’t news. Head Priest doesn’t do public displays of affection with his wives. Actually, he rarely interacts with them in any sort of way that would allude to romantic love, and I’m not the only one who notices that. He hangs out with them more like friends, and people have started to comment on it.

But that’s a thought for another time. Right now, I’m being berated with cheers for an encore. Jordan and I share a look, and without any further discussion, he launches into one of our personal favorites. Closer by The Chainsmokers.

It’s a ridiculous song for us to sing, but we kind of like that fact. Plus, the girls always get a kick out of it, and they all sing along, which is what they’re doing right now. I can’t help the little chuckle that slips through while I go in for the second bridge, gaze sliding across the fire once more.

Darian’s dark eyes are shining right at me, and it almost chokes me up again. It’s just such an intense stare. He appears casual enough, but then he’s giving me this look. A look that no one else seems to be noticing, I might add, which appears to border on frustration. There’s something desperately inquisitive in his eyes, and it’s gripping at my heart from within my chest.

By the end of the song, I’m buzzing, but not from booze or weed, or even the adrenaline of singing in front of a crowd.

I’m high on those damn eyes.

The applause, cheers and whistles take a bit to die down, and Jordan’s eating it up. I am too, but I’m still dazed. A few people come up to hug us and gush. But once the crowd parts, I find Darian and Lauris gone, and my stomach falls onto the floor.

It’s such an odd reaction, I have no choice but to give it five minutes, then excuse myself for the night.

Heading back to my trailer, I’m kicking rocks and I’m not sure why. I had a great night. Jordan and I killed it, as we always do. And Head Priest showed up and apparently enjoyed the performance. I should be ecstatic, and I guess I am.

But I’m also confused.

I’m really not sure what these bizarre feelings are that I’ve been developing lately, but they’re beginning to worry me.

It’s not that I would care about being interested in men. And if I choose not to label my sexuality, that’s fine, too. The Principality doesn’t judge people based on race, gender, sexuality differences, anything like that. My confusion isn’t about the sexuality aspect. It’s not even necessarily about him being much older than me, which he is.

It’s about the fact that I can’t have a crush on the Head Priest. He’s entirely unavailable, in many ways.

He’s not ours to lust over. He belongs to Mother, and to his wives, and that’s it.

Feeling only mildly defeated, I stomp up the steps into my trailer and lock the door behind me. I kick off my shoes, whip off my t-shirt, then step out of my pants, leaving things scattered everywhere as I head for the shower. I wash up quick, yet thorough, my brain rifling through the events of the day, and days past, wondering where the hell I went wrong, and how I became so fixated on a person I certainly shouldn’t be.

After the shower, I crawl into bed, yawning and tugging the sheet up to my chin. Moonlight shines through my window, and rather than finding myself gazing up at it in awe, it’s sort of pissing me off. Rolling onto my stomach, I cover my head with my pillow and close my eyes, trying to shove away the images of him from earlier.

His dark irises locked on me. That troubled expression I just couldn’t read. Even now, I haven’t the slightest clue what it meant.

His eyes are dark when he’s in need of solitude. But what does that have to do with me?

I can’t help but continue to wonder what he does in that room… alone. I’ve been wondering about it for a while. What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall…

And now, behind my eyes, I’m in a room I vaguely recognize…

My stomach flips as my pulse thrums. The lounge.

I’m visualizing it. Conjuring up this little fantasy in my imagination. I know it’s wrong… I’m not supposed to be so curious about Head Priest’s personal life, but I am. I’m imagining what he might do alone in this room…

He could be in the bed. That big, giant bed with the fancy canopy. He could be lying in it like I am now… Covered only by a sheet. And maybe it would be shockingly low on his waist.

Biting my lip, I imagine my eyes sliding against my will down the length of his long frame. Defined shoulders and chest, broad and sculpted, leading to abs that look like stones beneath what appears to be some very smooth skin… scattered in occasional ink.

I forgot about his tattoos…

I’ve seen him with his shirt off before, since we all go swimming at the lake in the summers and he’s been known to join us. But I’ve never allowed myself to really look.

There’s a V-shape in his pelvis, and it looks drawn on, pointing beneath the sheet. Where his hand is, too.

I gulp, my imagination concocting this visual of him, lying in that big bed, with his hand under the covers, moving. I think it’s clear what he’s doing in this fantasy, but I just can’t believe I’m thinking this. I’ve never allowed myself to think these thoughts about him. But now that I’m doing it, I’m finding it very difficult to stop.

Picturing his fist going up and down, and up, and down. And up… and down.

“Fuck,” his voice whispers in my head, and my cock jerks between my legs.

My face is on fire as I meet his gaze. His eyes are almost obsidian, hooded, lids drooping in his clear state of ecstasy. They fall shut and his head leans back, a tasty-looking throat exposed, Adam’s apple dipping as he swallows.

My mouth fills with saliva, and I swallow, too.

My lips part as if to speak, but I haven’t the foggiest idea what I would say. I don’t know how I’m here, or how this is happening, but I don’t want to do anything that might make it stop.

The look of him like this… It’s intoxicating.

I watch on with hungry eyes as his hand strokes in long, fluid motions beneath the sheet. With his movements, the sheet falls farther and farther down his muscled abdomen, and I’m desperate to see what’s under there. It looks like he has… a lot of inches to work with in that hand.

“Do you do this to yourself, Abdiel?” Darian’s voice calls to my imagination. “Would you do this for me?”

A short breath bursts from my lips, but I can’t form words. My cock is so hard it has a pulse in my boxers; a throbbing, aching need. His eyes close again and he lets out a groan; the sexiest fucking sound I’ve ever heard in my life, even imaginary. I whimper, brushing my hand, nervously, down to my erection. As soon as I touch it, it jerks and I shudder.

“That’s right,” he whispers. “Just like that. I need it…”

“Fuck…” I cup myself over the fabric and rub, watching his big body squirm around in his fancy bed.

“You’re so good,” he pants, his hand beneath the sheet speeding up visibly while the other comes up to his chest. He pinches his nipple between his fingers and bites his lip to quiet himself.

“Oh my God.” I can’t stop myself from lunging at the bed, crawling over him quickly.

But just as I see his lazily erotic grin aimed right at me, our lips ready to crash together, he disappears and I awake from my little dream, sweating through the damn sheets.

My eyes open unwittingly, confirming that I’m in my own bed, alone. I whine out of frustration and run my fingers through my damp hair, grinding my hips into the mattress. My dick is as hard as a metal rod, jamming between my bed and my abs while I rock with need.

“I wish you were here…” I whisper to no one, reaching down to grab my cock. “I want to know how it feels.”

Wrapping my fist around my erection, I close my eyes once more and remember the look of him, my Head Priest, naked in his bed. Only this time, I’m with him.

I’m sure in real life I wouldn’t know what to do with a man like him if I had the chance, and I’m sure he wouldn’t want me, a man, at all. But right now, in my imagination, he’s mine.

I trail my mouth along his skin, feeling rough stubble beneath my lips. My cock leaks in my hand, tongue extending in my fantasy to taste him; like salt and male deliciousness. He smells that way, too.

Like strength, and power. Like a King.

“Touch me,” I whisper in the dark, stroking my erection firmly, imagining sucking his pulse, and biting his shoulder. “Let me touch you…”

His fictional moans play on repeat in my mind like my favorite song while I jerk off, writhing in my bed. I imagine my hands traveling all over his large body, greedy fingers taking in the feel of his muscles, thick arms and thighs… big dick.

“I just know you have a big dick, my King,” I breathe, fucking my fist harder and faster. “I want… I want it. I want to stroke it and… suck it.”

I whimper at my own dirty words, desires I’ve never allowed myself to explore unleashed in the privacy of my bedroom. This… This is what I’ve been missing.

This is why I haven’t been with anyone else. This is the feeling I’ve been searching for.

“I want to fuck you, Head Priest,” I groan, as quietly as I can manage, though I think I’m about to burst. “Take my virginity. Please…”

God, it feels amazing. Jerking off has never been like this before. I can feel the building in my loins, like pressure bubbling up to the boiling point; top about to pop.

My hand is moving on its own, flashes behind my eyes of unbridled lust for the man I can’t have. The man who’s as forbidden as forbidden gets around here.

But that doesn’t matter right now, because I’m about to…

“Come…” I growl, beating my dick so hard it hurts. “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come… Fuck.”

My orgasm takes over and aching pulses shoot out all over my bed and my abs as I press my lips together to hold in my whimpers of bliss. I’m in a whirlpool of pleasure I’ve never felt before, the high lasting minutes longer than any climax I’ve ever experienced.

And when it’s over, and I suck in a long breath, hold it and let it go, I realize I’m completely fucked.

I just jerked off to fantasies concocted around the Head Priest of The Principality.

Yea… I’m definitely going to Hell.