13
Rue
The next day, my head is still spinning over what happened last night. I’ve come to two conclusions. The first is that I have no real idea whether Father Derrik or Dryas is normal when it comes to… s*x. The second is that I need to stop thinking about it — remembering the sights, the sounds, the feel of Dryas’s lips against mine.
After he left, I prayed last night. For an hour, I knelt by my bed, hands folded, and tried to talk to God. I was as penitent as I know how to be, without anything to flail myself with.
That’s always been my problem, though. No matter what I say to God, no matter how I try to prostrate myself before Him, he’s silent.
He’s always silent.
Now, the image of Dryas splayed out on my bed, showing his toned stomach as he strokes himself… it stays with me. It
