Page 67 of Slay the Gay Away, Daddy

We make our way out of the small, wooded area. The rest of the church is gone, but Mal and Meadows are still here, chatting by the fire. The pig is fully roasted, but since we have no desire to eat pure filth, he just lets the hog rest there, his skin burning and charring down to ash.

Dare leads me past them, then back into the church. The place is a ghost town, and I don’t know where he’s taking me, but I trust him with my life. I’d follow him anywhere. Through the gates of Hell, if he asked.

We walk upstairs and into the baptism chamber. I ask what’s going on, but he reaches for the tail of my shirt, untucking me. Next comes the belt, and then my slacks. When all that’s shielding me from the stained-glass depiction of Jesus is a pair of unnecessarily tight boxer-briefs—Darren’s choice—I blush, covering my package, because Jesus doesn’t want to see all that.

Darren slowly undresses, then steps into the hot tub, holding out a hand for me. Again, I take it, because I trust him.

“Miles,” he says, cupping my cheek as we stand in thigh-high water. “No one is ever going to hurt you again.” He leans closer, kissing me softly. “You’ve protected me all my life, and now I’m going to return the favor.” His hands are at my side, urging me to turn. I don’t understand what’s happening at first. Not until he lifts my hand and says, “Pinch your nose shut.” Once it’s done, he lifts my other hand to my heart, placing a palm against my back.

“Dare?”

His smile widens. “You were with me when I was baptized. I didn’t feel God or Jesus that day, but I felt you. I always feel you in my heart. Do you remember what you told me when it was over?” He places the hand not holding my back against my chest.

“Brothers in Christ. Best friends for life.”

He nods. “You’re mine. Always.” And with that, he gently pushes, and I allow my knees to go slack. His hands guide me to the water, and even though the chlorine is going to burn, I don’t close my eyes. I keep them right on Darren, giving myself to him. Washing away all the hurt and horrible things we’ve gone through to get here. When I emerge from the water, I feel more at peace than I ever have. It may be psychological, but I truly feel a weight has been lifted. I don’t feel washed completely clean, but the hurt that usually rests dormant in my heart isn’t nearly as noticeable.

I feel like I’ve been reborn.

Our lips touch, and I cup his cheek, leading him down to the water, wanting to give him what he’s just given me. Peace of mind. I don’t stop when his head goes under, I simply join him underneath, breathing my air into his mouth, moaning as his hand grips my ass.

When we rise, he almost looks like he’s glowing.

It’s because of me. Because of us.

“We have overcome,” I whisper. “Just not the way we planned.”

“I like this way better.”

“Me too, Dare-bear. Me too.”

chapter twenty-three

Mallory is going to kill me. She’s going to straight-up murder me for what I’ve done, and I can’t say I blame her. I also can’t say I regret my actions. If anything, I think I’m proud.

I did something before church. I was a bad, bad boy, and Daddy’s going to be furious.

I can’t fucking wait.

Mal will probably huff and puff and threaten to blow this twink down, but I don’t care. I genuinely enjoy goading her, and I think she likes our silly little prank war too. The day before yesterday, I dyed her wedding dress red and spray-painted Jezebel across the fabric. Oh, her rage was righteous. At one point, she had a butcher’s knife aimed at me. Thankfully, Miles managed to talk her down from her Murder Mommy ledge before anyone died, but it was a close call. In retribution, she stole all my dildos I keep—well, kept—hidden in their attic, along with my new slutty underwear. She took all of them and threw them on the concrete driveway, doused them in gasoline, and set my little buddies alight. Even the one I had made in Miles’ likeness. I was ready to hang for her murder. So, after it was done, I went down to the library and printed forty-four photographs of my face. What I did with those photographs will probably cost me my head, but it’s totally worth it.

I skip toward the front door giddily in anticipation.

“What did you do?” Miles calls out as he rushes behind me toward the porch.

I whirl around and smile innocently. “Nothing, Daddy. Promise.”

His pupils darken, and his jaw works back and forth. “I think I want you to call me that more often.”

“Daddy?” I clarify.

He nods. “It’s hot. Will you say it tonight when . . .”

“When I’m fucking you?”

He blushes furiously and looks away, clearing his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, when you’re doing that.”

I wink at him. “You bet your fucking ass I will.”

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