Where the Devil Says Goodnight (Folk Lore 1)

No matter how much Emil wanted to get his hands on the athletic body hidden under a thick layer of black fabric, on the pale lips and golden skin, they weren’t his to take.

“Hey. Everything okay at the church? I heard they’re considering what they found a hate crime?”

Adam cleared his throat and rested his hands on his hips, breathing softly as Jinx stepped closer to smell him. “I removed my fingerprints from the… whip left in the church. Someone needs to come over from the office of the Provincial Monument Conservator to decide what to do about the damaged sculpture. In other news, Father Marek doesn’t have a hangover. That man’s gonna outlive all of us.”

Emil guessed last night’s passion was a taboo topic as well, and while he wanted to honor Adam’s wishes, he couldn’t help the sense of loss at the pit of his stomach. He’d been on his own for so long he learned how to trick himself that he wasn’t lonely, but the raw closeness he’d experienced in bed with Adam proved that he’d been lying to himself all this time. For the span of those twenty minutes, he’d felt truly connected to someone. He’d been seen and understood, but the fact that there was a third player in the room, not only watching but imprisoning Adam within his own body turned all of Emil’s giddiness to rot.

“Will you ride home with me?” Emil patted Jinx’s rump where it was scarred from his many accidents, which had somehow still left him without any serious injuries.

Adam hesitated, but in the end his lips stretched into a soft smile. “How about we walk?” he asked before brushing the backs of his fingers against Jinx’s soft nose. The morning sun shone through his fair hair, transforming it into thin rays of light illuminating Adam’s head like a halo.

Emil wished to touch it, but kept his hands to himself, silently mourning what could have been if Adam wasn’t a priest. He should have never stuck his hand into the beehive because now he’d tasted the honey of Adam’s lips only to get stung, and would forever know what he was missing out on.

Emil grabbed Jinx’s reins and started walking. “So I’m guessing that whip was what left the bruising on your back?”

Adam lowered his head but didn’t react with anger. “I know what you think. But it really helps me stay in control.”

Emil swallowed, uncomfortable yet desperate to uncover more. Self-flagellation was hardly an appropriate topic for their surroundings—a sea of wheat shining brightly in the growing June sunshine.

“Are you… hm… a masochist?”

Adam laughed, as if he’d expected an intrusive question but got asked a funny one instead. “No, I… I do it to stop thinking about things I shouldn’t. Trying to recondition myself.”

That sounded like a very grim self-conversion therapy. “When I was going through puberty and discovering that I liked boys, I found it hard to accept too,” Emil said in the gentlest voice he could muster. He didn’t mean to pressure Adam or belittle his convictions. It was a conversation about something they were both dealing with, and while he meant to encourage Adam to share, the topic made him tense as well.

Adam swallowed loudly enough for Emil to hear, but at least he didn’t outright protest Emil suggesting they were both gay.

“I suppose you deserve to know,” he said in the end in the faintest voice. “I didn’t choose to do what I did last night, but what I did, what I said, he’d taken all that straight out of my head.”

Emil fought the heat in his cheeks. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear that after all. “I hate to think that you hurt yourself over something you were born as.”

“What else can I do? I don’t want to be like the priests who condemn fornication, and then have orgies behind closed doors or have secret children. The self-flagellation helps me… manage my emotions.”

Emil glanced at him, so unbearably sad for all that needless torment. “You could talk to me instead. My whole life doesn’t revolve around putting notches on my bedpost, you know.”

Adam glanced at him, shyly at first, only to turn his way with undivided attention. “Thank you. I know my behavior’s been… erratic, but I enjoy your company. It’s nice to have someone to talk to. Honestly, I mean.”

Emil rubbed the stupid hump on his nose, yet more proof of his bad luck. "You'll need it now that they confiscated your whip." Emil loved Jinx, but the horse wasn’t a creature he could exchange intelligent ideas with.

“Maybe we should have morning coffee together. After my jogs?” Adam asked as they neared Emil’s home, which invited them back with shiny windows, as if yesterday’s events had been nothing out of the ordinary. Were mice still following Adam, hidden in the tall grass? Or had they actually responded to their demon overlord, who might still reside inside Adam?