Chapter Text
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," Ethan muttered, barely audible, "This is my first confession."
"Welcome," Father Paul's voice replied on the other side of the screen, "Tell me your sins, so that you may repent."
"I've been having impure thoughts about someone I shouldn't."
"Is it because she's married?" Father Paul asked gently. There was no judgement in his voice, only understanding. It encouraged Ethan to continue.
"No. Father, these thoughts, they've been plaguing my mind every day."
"What sort of thoughts are they?" Ethan flushed a bright pink, and he was very grateful for the screen between him and the priest.
"Is that really necessary?"
"You must fully own up to your sins before God in order to be forgiven. So, yes. I would say it's necessary. Trust me, I know it seems awkward, but I'm here only as the middleman between you and God. I'm not here to judge you."
"Okay. Well..." Ethan collected himself for a moment. Was he really about to confess the things he wanted this man to do to him to his face?
"It's okay, Ethan." Father Paul's voice held such a fond softness when it curled around the syllables of Ethan's name.
Yes, he was going to do this.
And he was certainly going to hell for it.
“I guess I’ll start at the beginning. A couple of weeks ago, I began noticing someone a lot more. I didn’t think anything of it, I mean, I’ve had crushes on people before, but the island is so small, I’ve never done anything about it. But with him-” Ethan cut himself off. He had intended to be more graceful about that part. Him. He heard Father Paul take a sharp inhale.
“I’m sorry, but… ‘him’?” The Father questioned. Ethan let out a throaty, nervous chuckle.
“That’s not something I’m asking penance for, Father. I’ve been this way my whole life, which I’m sure is what God intended for me. I’m at peace with it. Do you think it’s something I should repent for?”
Father Paul was silent for a moment.
“No. I don’t believe that’s something you should repent for. God loves all of His children, and I know he loves you, too, Ethan Bailey. You’re right; God made you this way, and it would be disrespectful to our Lord to try and repent for something He did. You’re not a mistake. Go on.”
Tears sprang to Ethan’s eyes. He rubbed at them with the sleeve of his sweatshirt, embarrassed. His own mother didn’t know he was gay, and here was a Catholic Priest telling him that God loves him and made him this way. Truthfully, Ethan was agnostic, but he had been coming to St. Patrick’s ever since he was a little boy. He stopped coming around the age of sixteen, but for whatever reason, he had decided to re-convert. It surely had nothing to do with the, frankly, sexy Priest that had shown up from the mainland. That would be ridiculous!
“Thank you,” Ethan said, cringing at the way his voice broke, but he continued nonetheless. Father Paul had definitely had people cry during confession before.
“What was I saying? Oh, yeah. I’ve had thoughts like these before, but with him, it’s like they never stop. He’s constantly on my mind, and not in a good way. In a sexual way. It makes me feel dirty because I know if he knew what I was thinking, he would be disgusted.”
Father Paul nodded, and brought his hand to his face, scrubbing against his clean-shaven face in thought. Ethan tried not to imagine those hands rubbing against other, more exciting places. He failed miserably.
“So, these thoughts… they’re sexual. And that makes you feel perverted.” He clarified.
“Yes, Father.”
“And that’s all you came to confess today?”
“Yes.”
“So, you have these thoughts daily. I appreciate you coming in to confess today, but I’m not sure you’re ready to repent quite yet. You seem to have an awful lot of shame in having these thoughts, but God cannot forgive you until you tell me what these thoughts are. You have to confess fully.”
Ethan gulped. He wanted all the details? Fine. He could do that.
“It started with me just looking at him, you know? Appreciating from a distance, I’ve done that before. But those tight jeans he wears? Well, a guy’s mind wanders. I would wonder how big his dick is, what it looks like. What it would feel like.”
Father Paul shifted a little in his stall, but he didn’t interrupt. Ethan took that as his sign to continue.
“It got to the point where whenever I would look at him, I would want to rip those tight jeans open and wrap my mouth around his cock. I would imagine his hands pulling my hair and him fucking my mouth. I would imagine what he tastes like. Is that enough detail for you, Father?”
The Father cleared his throat before speaking again, and when he did, his voice sounded strained.
“Yes, that would be a full confession,” He cleared his throat again, and his voice returned to normal, “Are there any other thoughts you wish to confess?”
Ethan peered through the screen, taking in the features of the man he was fantasizing so much about. He was not going to confess that he felt his dick hardening just talking about it with him.
“Well, like I said, this was only the beginning. Lately whenever I’ve been sitting in church all I can think about is him fucking me on one of the church pews. One hand tugging my hair or clenched around my throat, the other jerking me off as he fucks me. And his mouth is all over me, kissing me, biting me, sucking bruises all over my skin. Sometimes it’s the other way, around, though, where it’s me fucking him and I see him fall apart beneath my touch, and I imagine how his moans would sound echoing throughout St. Patrick’s. How he would call out my name, how he would look covered in bruises that I gave him… That’s fucked up, right?”
Father Paul took even longer to reply this time. Ethan didn’t blame him, after all, he was surely the only gay man on the island, and his fantasies were filthy.
“We don’t have control over our thoughts, Ethan,” Father Paul began, “Nor our fantasies. We do have control over how we react to them, though. You’re here, confessing these thoughts before God, and before a Priest, which is incredibly brave. So while, yes, having sex on a church pew is… fucked up, as you put it, you haven’t actually done it, and this is the first step in recovering from those thoughts.
“Now… is there anything else you wish to confess?”
…
The gravel crunched beneath Ethan’s boots as he walked home from the church. He didn’t have a car– only residents who regularly went to the mainland had one, and the island was so small you could walk the perimeter of the whole thing in less than three hours. He sighed, a puff of white vapor floating into the atmosphere. It was supposed to be Spring already, but clearly, the island of Crockett had not gotten the memo.
Confession hadn’t taken long, and it was only nine in the morning now, as he walked. He needed to stop by the grocery store to get a couple of things for dinner, so that’s where he was headed now, although it didn’t officially open until ten. That was just fine. He could make a couple of coffees and chat with Sheriff Hassan until Riley Flynn came in to work.
It took no time at all to arrive at the local grocery store/sheriff station. The doors were unlocked. They were always unlocked, just like every other building in Crockett. With a population of only 127 people(now 129 due to the arrival of Father Paul and Riley), break-ins were unheard of.
The bell rang as Ethan pushed open the door, the warm air enveloping him like an embrace. He made his way to the coffee machine, getting two mugs to fill with the bitter liquid. Hassan preferred his black, but Ethan always added ample cream and sugar to his own. He mindlessly scrolled through his phone while the coffee brewed, when a flash of movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Blue jeans, a black dress shirt, a white collar. Fuck. Father Paul.
As if he could sense Ethan looking at him, he turned and waved, a wide smile on his face. Ethan felt like an error pop-up was covering the content of his brain as he waved back, a slight smile tugging on his lips. The coffee machine beeped loudly and he jumped, his hand clapping to his mouth as he barely stopped himself from letting out a girlish squeal.
He looked up to see Father Paul clearly trying to hold in his laughter, before he turned and continued walking, his shoulders shaking suspiciously. Ethan shook his head, quickly pouring the coffees to distract himself. He knocked on the door marked “Sheriff”.
“Yeah?” He heard Sheriff Hassan call through the thick wooden door. He opened the door a crack, grabbing both mugs and using his elbow to push the door open enough to enter the small office.
“Morning, Sheriff! Coffee?” Ethan held the mug out to Sheriff Hassan, who was seated at his desk. He accepted it gratefully with a small “Thank you.”, but he had a glint of curiosity in his dark eyes.
“What?” Ethan asked indignantly.
“What’s got you all worked up this morning?” He asked. Ethan stuttered, “No, no, before you deny it, your face is redder than I have ever seen it, and that’s saying something. What happened?”
As he spoke, he motioned to the seat opposite his desk, which Ethan took and promptly buried his face in his hands.
“The coffee maker scared me when it beeped,” He confessed, looking up hopefully. Sheriff Hassan raised an eyebrow incredulously. Welp. There went Ethan’s hope that he could leave it at that.
“C’mon, Ethan, I wasn’t born yesterday. You don’t blush a bright red when a coffee machine beeps at you.” Hassan said. He was a handsome man, although Ethan had noticed that the second he had moved here. He even had a little bit of a crush on him, at first. Now they were just friends, and Hassan was possibly Ethan’s only real friend on the island.
“Okay, but you can’t tell anyone, alright? This gets out and I’ll move to the mainland, capiche?” Sheriff Hassan nodded and leaned forward over the desk. Ethan took a deep breath, “Father Paul saw me get scared, and now I’m super embarrassed. Especially since I just got out of confession like twenty minutes ago, so that’s fresh on his mind.”
“No offense, Ethan, but why would that make you want to move off the island? You got jumpy, it happens to all of us. Besides, I know he’s your Priest and all, but why do you care so much about what he thinks of you?”
Sheriff Hassan had to crouch even lower to catch Ethan’s eyes with his own. They were full of confusion, but Ethan was having a hard time confessing twice in one day. Besides, Hassan el-Shabazz was a Muslim man, so he would certainly think less of Ethan after this, right? Was he willing to lose a friend over this?
“Hey,” He said, recapturing Ethan’s attention, “Just because he’s the Priest doesn’t mean he’s perfect. I’m sure he’s gotten scared by something silly before. Besides, whatever you spoke to him about at confession, I’m sure he’s heard worse. He’s probably not walking around town thinking about it.”
Ethan had to chuckle at that. How wrong Hassan was!
“Actually, I’m pretty sure I traumatized him today. He’s definitely never heard anything like that before. I don’t think he’s gonna talk to me outside of confession ever again.”
“That bad, huh?” Ethan could tell what the next question would be, so he spoke before Hassan could get the chance.
“Hassan, we’re friends, right?” He asked. The sheriff blinked.
“I think you may be the only one on this shit island I can call my friend. Why? What’s wrong?”
“I’m gay.” The words left Ethan’s mouth before he could stop them, and he cringed internally, “So… “
“So?” The sheriff asked, not a hint of judgement in his eyes.
“That doesn’t bug you?” The sheriff took a moment to think, and shook his head, frowning.
“Can’t say that it does. But why tell me now? Is that what you confessed to Father Paul? Because that’s not a sin, Ethan. Allah made you that way, and I’m not going to love you any less for it.”
Ethan couldn’t believe his ears. Hassan was still his friend. He still loved him. A deep warmth spread through his body as he realized he had been accepted by two people today. He took a steadying breath.
“No. I mean, yes, kind of. He knows now, but I told him that I don’t think that’s something I need to repent for, and he agreed.” The sheriff hummed in surprise, but otherwise didn’t interrupt.
“Did you know I’m not actually Catholic? I’m agnostic. I don’t exactly go to church for God. I’ve been… I’ve been going for him.”
The Sheriff froze, processing.
“For… for Father Paul?” Sheriff Hassan asked hesitantly. Ethan buried his burning face in his hands.
“I know! It’s fucking stupid!” His voice was muffled, as he still hadn’t moved his hands, “I can’t help it!”
“Wait, you confessed that to him?!” There was a hint of respect in his tone, but he otherwise didn’t react to Ethan having a crush on a fucking celibate priest.
“Worse. He didn’t ask who it was, he just told me I needed to confess fully to… to the impure thoughts.”
Sheriff Hassan burst out in laughter, breaking the bleak tension in the room.
“Wait. So you… you had to tell him–” He laughed again, throwing his head back.
“Yes! I had to tell him every explicit thought I’ve ever had about him, and trust me, there are a lot. In detail. Do you have any idea how humiliating that is?”
“Ya Allah!” A loud crack sounded in the small room as the sheriff slapped both of his hands on his knees, “I’m sorry, Ethan, but that is hilarious.”
“Ugh! What should I do? It’s not like I can just turn off my feelings.” Ethan, once again, buried his face in his hands.
“Feelings? I didn’t realize it was that serious for you. I’ll be honest, I don’t think anyone on this entire island could give you good advice on what to do. Just… act normal, I guess? Feelings die down eventually.”
“I hope so.” Ethan replied.
He really hoped so.