Page 29 of Slay the Gay Away, Daddy

He shakes his head. “He’s leading you in and out, son. In and out of sin. In and out of redemption’s grasp. In and out.” He pauses like he’s trying to make a point, then adds, “In and out, Darren.”

Okay, now he’s just being fucking creepy. I turn my attention back to the pastor. “I’m sorry they’ve wasted your time. I’m nearing redemption already, sir. The straight and narrow is in my trajectory.”

“Hogwash,” Dad says, flicking his hands forward dismissively. He takes a seat on the sofa and crosses his arms, staring up at me. “You’re going to let this man help you. God help me, I’m not having this debauchery in my home. This is a God-fearing house, but the only thing you seem to fear is upsetting the queer across the street.”

Pastor Collins shoots my dad a stern glare, and Dad closes his mouth really quick, probably scared of getting his ass kicked twice in one day.

“Brother Matthews, I asked you to let me handle this,” the pastor says, and Dad swallows nervously, staring down at his hands in his lap. Turning his focus back to me, the pastorstretches his smile even wider. I’m pretty sure if he opens his mouth any bigger, I’ll be able to see his wisdom teeth. “I have a brother like you, son. He’s lost to degeneracy, needing salvation. He refuses to answer God’s call, but I can tell you’re different.”

“You can?”

“I can. You want this. I can feel it in my bones. Your face is practically radiating redemption.” Uninvitedly, he places a hand on each of my shoulders, staring intimidatingly. “God speaks through me, son, and says He loves you. He loves you so much, and He just wants you to be better. Don’t you want to make God happy?”

“Yes, sir,” I lie, looking away because his gaze makes me feel gross. His finger touches my chin, and then he tugs until we’re eye to eye again.

“I want you to go to your room and spend the evening in prayer. Ask Him to show His light to you. Ask Him to make you worthy, and you shall receive.”

The only thing I want to receive is Miles Brooks’ cock, but, again, I can’t say that. Ugh. I don’t want to talk to this man. I don’t want to listen to his stupid conversion therapy spiel. I just want Miles. I need Father Daddy. Need him to drag me away from this horrible, hideous man and his horrible, hideous words.

“An awakening is at hand,” he says, looking a bit crazed, but holding the craziness back, probably not wanting to frighten me off. I wouldn’t be surprised if he started speaking in tongues. Thankfully, he doesn’t. He just pats me on my shoulder and sends me on my way upstairs, telling me we’ll see each other again soon.

Not if I can help it.

Later, once Mom and Dad are asleep, I sneak out my bedroom window, cross the street, then crawl into Miles’ attic. I could probably just knock since Mal knows about us now, but I kind of enjoy the drama.

Once I’m in his bedroom closet, I press my eyes against the peepholes and gasp when I see what’s on the other side of the wall. Miles Brooks. Father Daddy. The man I love, sitting on top of his blanket, wearing only a pair of white boxer-briefs and a skin-tight shirt, his legs spread, displaying a rather large bulge.

Miles is staring at his phone, his eyes half-lidded, smiling like a goofball. Every night, after the pill hits, he changes his background to a picture of us. He keeps it there like a keepsake, reminding him there’s a big, beautiful life on the other side of the rainbow. One that is his for the taking, should he choose to take it. He changes it back to his religious wallpaper the next morning, but for eight uninterrupted hours, I am his and he is mine.

He hasn’t changed it back in a few days. It gives me hope.

I slip through the closet door and make my way to him. “You’re in your underwear,” I point out.

He nods, finally looking up from the screen. There’s something different about him. Tonight and last night, his eyes haven’t looked the way they usually do. Normally, they’re a bit glassier, like he’s just used eye drops. They look normal. The way they always do. Big, brown, and full of love. He opens his arms to welcome me in, but I can’t shake the feeling that something feels off.

“Baby?” he says like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like it’s who I’ve always been to him. Whatever confusing war my heart is waging with my head ends abruptly, and I rush to him, diving into his bed, and into his arms.

“Hi, Daddy,” I whisper, pressing my face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his woodsy cologne.

His hands roam up and down my back. “I think I like when you call me that.”

A strange admission, considering he’s the one who asked me to use the title, back when we first started sharing our nights.He was drugged then, and he’s drugged now, so it’s probably no wonder he’s forgotten. All I can do is assure him.

“I’m glad. Because I like saying it.”

I’m sitting right beside him, cuddled close, my chest pressed against his side. As I breathe him in and out, memories from earlier replay in my mind. The way Miles stared at me as he came. How he called me his good boy. Then, everything that happened at home. He seemed so different earlier. Not like my Miles at all. It almost felt like he wanted me just as much as I want him.

“I didn’t take my pill tonight.” He looks down at me, and I realize that’s probably why he looks so different tonight. He doesn’t look nearly as drowsy as he usually does.

“Why?”

He blushes, but he doesn’t look away. He’s staring me right in the eyes, facing whatever his fears currently are, and it makes me so fucking proud. I know this can’t be easy for him.

He bites his lip as he stares at me, pausing. “I don’t want to forget you anymore.”

“Yeah?”

He nods decidedly. “Yeah, Dare.”

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