Content Warning: Religious themes and imagery
Phillip Mather had always been a pious man. Generations of his family had attended service at Two Points Mission Church. Undergoing ordination felt just and right. Phillip loved his church and community.
Admittedly, he sometimes thought about the other paths his life might have followed. A loving wife, children, these were all things he willingly gave up for the love of his God. Dwelling on such things was not good for him. Sometimes, he suffered bouts of restlessness. His mind would race, and he couldn't seem to sit still. A burning crept under his skin, and it resisted all attempts to extinguish it.
During these times, he found his only absolution in charity work. Helping the sick and homeless was a healthy and Godly outlet for a mind that sometimes struggled to find peace. And if he sometimes encountered those who were entrenched in sin, he resisted his discomfort, and attempted only to perceive souls in need.
For the most part, Phillip handled these encounters smoothly. Filth and corse language did not phase him. It was the purity of one's soul, not beauty of form, that determined their value. And despite his distaste, Phillip found genuine good in those who sought his aid.
It was only a matter of time before Phillip found a soul that he could not save, right?
It was not surprising, really. Savage storms had raged through the state for what seemed like weeks. Millions were without power, and those who had been displaced flooded across the state. Phillip and the other priests had only recently returned from charity work in the south, where the storms had hit hardest along the shore. They had spent days handing out food and water, documenting survivors and contacting next of kin. It was brutal and exhausting, but Phillip felt it was truly his calling. Eventually, the crowded conditions and continuing lack of power had driven people almost into a frenzy, and the decision was made to withdraw before anyone could be injured if looting or rioting were to occur. Phillip returned home with a heavy heart.
Their own community had not been left untouched. Half of his parishioners brought in stories of being without power, of running low on food and barren grocery shelves. In anticipation of yet another series of storms, even the church was taking in those it could shelter. Thankfully, that was limited to a few homeless, but Phillip feared it would only get worse.
One such man had seized Phillip's special attention. He was rather young, maybe a few years younger than Phillip's 25, and he had arrived quietly, asking for shelter to protect him from the coming storm. He had unruly brown hair that curled around his ears and deep, dark eyes that pulled you in. Despite living on the streets, he was relatively healthy and fit: not a body builder by any means, but his body was lean and muscled under his clothes. He didn't say much to most of the clergymen he encountered, but he seemed to always be present when Phillip was going about his work.
Over the last several days, the youth had begun to speak to Phillip. His name was Luke, originally from a larger city several states north, he had come south to escape the upcoming harsh winter sleeping outside and had found himself in an even worse position due to the storms. Despite frequent conversations, Phillip felt unease whenever Luke was around. He was a model of good behavior, and he never broke any rules imposed by Phillip and his colleagues, but there was something in his stare that was too inquisitive. It felt like Phillip was under a microscope, like Luke was looking for something hidden deep under the surface.
The conversations shifted to focus on Phillip himself, and slowly Luke began to know more about him. He asked about his family, what had drawn him to the church. Notably, he had been most interested in his life before the church: what kinds of places had he been, what kinds of experiences had he had? It was the kind of questioning that pierced Phillip to his core, and set his mind down those familiar routes, wondering what could have been possible for him if he hadn't felt called to God.
"What about women?" Luke asked one day.
"What about women?" Phillip responded, guardedly.
"Well, have you ever..."
It took a moment for Phillip to respond. He knew what was being asked of course. And he shouldn't be ashamed of his lack of experience, but for some reason he hesitated to answer. He knew he should simply tell him that his body was pledged to his God, but he found himself staring into Luke's dark eyes. He felt envious, suddenly, of Luke's freedom, his toned, muscled body. Despite his misfortune, Luke was handsome and drew you in. Any woman he turned his attention on would be happy to...
"Enough. Don't speak to me about these kinds of things." Phillip turned sharply on his heel, and left to return to his rooms. He felt Luke's eyes on him the whole way. The burned his back even after he turned the corner and was out of sight.
Hours later, Phillip paced restlessly across his bedroom. The burning was back, worse than it had been before. In every corner, he saw Luke's eyes staring at him from the darkness. Questioning, probing, trying to find that small nugget of something at Phillip's core. It was a terrifying idea.
He couldn't take it anymore. Luke needed to leave. He would tell his superiors in the morning, lie if he had to. He would seek forgiveness later. He would seek forgiveness now. It was very late, almost midnight. The chapel would be empty. A night in prayer and meditation would set him right.
The halls echoed with his steps. Everyone was in bed at this hour, and the quiet was uncomfortable but no more so than his rooms behind him.
The chapel was as grand as this modest town could offer. The wooden pews, stained glass windows, and carved friezes were a genuine attempt at recreating a much older church. Phillip walked down the center aisle, feeling almost like a ghost. He came to a stop in front of the altar of his god and knelt in prayer immediately.
Minutes passed, stretching out further and further as Phillip sat, silently repeating prayers he had said every day for a decade. He wanted the burning to disappear, to feel free from this feeling of being trapped like an animal in a cage.
"Please Lord, set me free" he said, whispering aloud into the silent chapel.
"He can't, but I can" came a voice behind him. Phillip felt himself freeze in shock as a pair of hands seized his collar from behind. With a great rip, his alb was torn right down the middle. The cool air of the chapel rushed across his exposed skin, sending goosebumps down every bit of revealed flesh. The cincture was ripped from its place on his waist, his clothing falling even further down his body. He grasped at it desperately, feeling incredibly exposed.
"Wow babe, I knew you had a nice body." A low whistle sounded behind him. "So sexy" the last part was a growl.
"What on earth-" Phillip stammered, pulling the tatters of his clothes together as best he could and turning to look at the person behind him. His heart sank when he realized it was Luke, a cool smile playing across his lips. Phillip's cincture was in his hands.
