Like a Prayer


It's not an invasion of privacy, per se. It is, after all, his bathroom. And it's not as if he's just barging in for no reason. The phone rang, someone asked for Pastor McAllister - the rhyming nature of which never fails to amuse Kevin and provoke mock arguments fought in the literary style of Dr. Seuss - so for all he knows, it's an emergency: a church social gone horribly awry, a call for blood from the Amish gang down the street, a crisis of faith.

The question of it all comes from the fact that they just got back from their run, Jason just dragged himself off the couch and away from Kevin and their mutually aroused state and asked to borrow the shower so he could clean up before he left.

Frustration had led to Kevin's curt reply and Jason's leaving the room and enough annoyance that Kevin hadn't looked at the phone before he answered it.

Which led him here. To the door. To the bathroom where, from the sound of it, Jason is showering. Which means there's a very good chance that Jason is naked, which means Kevin should just tell the member of the flock that the shepherd is indisposed. He opens the door. The air is heavy with steam, heat making Kevin's t-shirt cling to his still slightly damp skin, curving around the hardness of his cock until all he can feel is the weight of it. He bites his lower lip and steps inside, stopping as he hears Jason's voice.

"God."

It's funny, Kevin thinks, how certain people make different words mean different things. Anyone else in his shower pleading to a higher power would make Kevin think about wanting and moans and stroking and sucking, but somehow when it's Jason, all he can think about is privacy and prayer. He feels his arousal start to dissipate and takes a step back until Jason's next words melt through the steam.

"Oh…God."

It's also possible that even pastors use the shower in ways Kevin understands.

He closes the phone without thinking as he steps closer, eyes on the dark form in his shower. He outlines Jason's shadow, plugging in features and swallowing hard. His head is tilted back and his mouth open, his muscles bunched and tight as his hand slides over his cock. His breath falls out of his open mouth like it's forced out of his chest with every stroke.

"God. C-c'mon. C'mon."

Kevin can hear the strain in the words, the same tightness of his muscles threading through his voice, trying to control himself as he strives to lose control. He should leave, he knows. Walk away and let Jason take care of this in peace. He should slip into his room and take care of his own growing problem since Jason's obviously not ready to let it be a mutual problem.

"C'mon. C'mon." He's gasping and arching and Kevin swallows hard, resting one hand against the wall as he slides the other down to rub against the hard heaviness of his cock through his shorts. "God, c'mon."

Kevin bites his lower lip to hold back his groan, giving up all pretense of anything else and sliding his hand inside his shorts. He wraps it around his cock, feeling the smoothness of it against his palm and his thumb for a moment before he begins stroking, slower than the sudden urgency that's overtaken Jason.

"God. God." His voice is thickening, huskier. Kevin closes his eyes for a moment and imagines that noise in his ear, in the dark, in his bed and his hand speeds up, catching up to Jason's rhythm. He shudders and forces his eyes open, focusing on the line of Jason's muscled frame through the hammered glass.

"C'mon…c'mon, Kevin. God. Yes."

Kevin swallows a curse at the sound of his name moaned in Jason's husky tone. Their hands move in unison, Jason's eyes still closed and Kevin's tracing over Jason hungrily. It would be so easy to move in now, slip into the shower and sink down and take Jason in his mouth or to press against him and thrust, or to stroke one another, touching and kissing and desperate.

"K-Kevin. God, yes. C'mon. C'mon."

Every breath shudders through Jason before he exhales, panting more than breathing. Kevin memorizes him, burning him into his mind as his breath hitches once more, unable to actually breathe in the second that Jason arches away from the wall once more and comes, still stroking himself in the shower spray.

Kevin freezes, his own orgasm spilling over his hand. He's caught between sliding down to the floor and remembering how to breathe and getting the hell out of the bathroom when the phone in his hand rings.

"Shit."

"Kevin?" Jason opens the door to the shower, his eyes surprised and guarded.

"Phone. Your phone's ringing." He keeps his own eyes on Jason's face, careful not to let them fall down to his chest or stomach or lower. "Didn't know if it was important or not, so I thought I should, you know." He gestures around the room and then holds the phone out. "Phone."

"Thanks." Jason's breathing is still erratic and shaky, but he takes the phone from Kevin's hand. "I'll be out in a bit. Just…um…"

"No. No problem." Kevin smiles at him and nods, hurrying out of the bathroom and into his own room. He strips down and heads for his own shower, his hands shaking as he strips his clothes off. The hot water blasts him and he moans, all the repressed noises slipping out of his mouth under the spray.

There's a knock a moment later, a cool breeze that shivers through the room as Jason pushes the door open. "Kevin?"

"Yeah?" He shuts off the water and shakes his head, wiping droplets from his face with his hand.

"I have to run. A pipe burst at the church and they need some help."

"All right."

"I'll see you tomorrow? Another run?"

Another run, another shower. Kevin nods. "Yeah. Tomorrow."


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