Fuck.
I dip my chin because what else am I gonna do? Hiss and run away from him? That’ll convince them I’m a sane person.
They make me link hands with them before everyone lowers their chin and closes their eyes. “Dear Heavenly Father. Thank you for this gift you’ve provided us in this sweet boy.”
Boy, really?
“Thank you for educating our doctors and helping his ankle heal swiftly. Getting him back on his feet. Please continue to help aid his struggles and help him fight his demons.”
The image of Abraham and me from earlier flashes to the forefront of my mind. His dick stretches my hole painfully as he fills me up fully. My muscles jerk violently at the unbidden image which causes my necklace to heat until it nearly scalds my chest. I jump away from Pastor Dan’s and Grandma Julia’s grasp, one hand on my stomach and the other over my mouth.
“Rami, are you okay?” Pastor Dan asks. His features curl in some semblance of concern until they pinch into the scrutiny I’m more accustomed to.
I try to breathe through the roiling in my stomach to no avail. I sprint out of the room, and lock myself in my bathroom just in the nick of time. This time, however, is mostly dry heaving as there isn’t anything left in my stomach after the previous bout of puking.
After I manage to clean myself up, I shuffle my way down the hall to the front room. I pause to listen to their soft conversation.
“Are you sure he’s clean?” Pastor Dan asks.
“I assure you my grandson isn’t on drugs. I watch him like a hawk and even check his room from time to time. He has never had anything related to drugs in there, ever.”
“Perhaps you should do another sweep.”
I don’t hear her response as fear and anxiety cause blood to rush past my ears, drowning everything else out.
Shit fuck shit fuck shit!
If she searches my room, she’ll definitely find the screen under my bed. I rush into my room and return the screen to the window before I hurry back into the hallway. Stumbling into the front room, which was legit a clumsy accident, I stare down at my keepers.
“I’m sorry, Grandma Julia and Pastor Dan. I think I may be coming down with something. I got sick in town today, too.” I tack on the last part knowing the nosey Nellies are gonna blab, anyway. Might as well get on top of it.
“Oh, dear,” Grandma Julia clutches her chest, worry pinching her lips, as Pastor Dan looks anything but understanding. She rushes to my side, placing her warm hands on my cheeks and forehead. “You don’t feel warm. I’ll make you a bowl of tomato soup with noodles just the way you like it.”
My eyes widen at the woman who has felt more like a warden than a grandmother lately. The kindness of that one simple act nearly makes my knees buckle.
“Be strong, my boy,” Pastor Dan says, patting me hard on the shoulder. The two of them exchange a knowing look as Grandma Julia dips her chin before Pastor Dan sees himself out.
“Why don’t you go shower and I’ll get you something to eat?”
And there it is, folks. This isn’t kindness. This is lowering my guard so she can check my room. I just know it. She’s feigning sweetness right now, and any of those good thoughts I hadprior shrivel in disappointment. I don’t know why I suspected anything more.
So, I play along, knowing she won’t find anything in there. My head bobs up and down, and I plaster on my most pitiful face, trying to sell my ailment.
In the shower, I rest my forehead on the cool tile. Meanwhile, conjuring up the image of my legs wrapped around Abraham, the hair on his chest brushing across my pert nipples. My stomach wrenches and I fight back the urge to vomit all over myself. I shake my head and slap my face rather hard to fight off the discomfort.
In an attempt to distract myself, I imagine Adriel in Abraham’s place. His sun-kissed skin is covered in the mysterious sigils as he plunges deep inside me. I can picture him pinning me to a tree while he takes me roughly from behind.
My dick plumps quickly thanks to my highly imaginative mind. “Oh, so you like those images?” I ask my fattening cock. “But we don’t like Abraham?” My cock gives a twitch as if it’s responding to me, but it doesn’t soften.
Interesting.
Perhaps it’s only the image of us together that makes me so violently ill. Simply the mention of the act does nothing. But why Abraham?
Did he do something to me? Add something to that pie?
That’s absurd, right?
He brought that pie out clearly for himself, not even knowing I was going to be there when he plated it up. There was no time to tamper with the piece. Plus, he’d never attempt to drug me. He’s my friend.
