God, that would be hot . . .
Matthew shook himself out of yet another fantasy about Rabi. He really didn’t need to be thinking about that. Not here in the pew beside his family while Pastor Rich droned on about . . . whatever the sermon was today. Matthew had zoned out somewhere between communion and the passing of the offering plate. Probably around the time he’d started feeling guilty over taking communion. Kinda seemed like he should sit that one out when he’d spent the car ride to church exchanging suggestive texts with his boyfriend.
But he’d taken communion because he didn’t want to raise his family’s eyebrows, quietly asked for God’s forgiveness on the way back to the pew, and then let his sinful, guilty mind wander to the man he couldn’t wait to see again. As if his brain was ever very far away from Rabi or the sexy, sweaty things they hadn’t done.
Yet. Somehow, he was sure they just hadn’t gotten there yet.
Which was weird. He’d never thought about sex with a boyfriend as a foregone conclusion. Or something that would happen with that particular guy at all, even if he fantasized about it to get himself off.
He squirmed on the pew, trying to stay focused on the service and not the man he was dying to see. Not happening, though. And he never got this distracted in church or in class or wherever. Not even when he had a crush or a boyfriend. He’d always thought about sex as much as anyone did (he assumed), but the more he saw of Rabi, the more his mind was overwhelmed with thoughts of sex. Specifically, sex with Rabi. More specifically, about Rabi riding him deep and hard from behind.
Matthew’s pulse sped up and his temperature soared. He’d fantasized about sucking dick. About having his dick sucked. About making out while they stroked each other off. Topping. Bottoming. He wanted to try it all eventually.
For whatever reason, though, his fantasies about Rabi always circled back to Rabi topping him. He never came as hard as he did when he imagined being under Rabi’s strong, beautiful body and being stretched and filled by his dick.
And for that matter, it wasn’t just a fantasy to get himself off at night or in the shower. It was a craving. Something he wanted more than ever to experience for real.
He tried to tell himself it was just because he was with someone new. He’d been antsy when he’d first started dating Raymond too, but had kept a tight rein on his lust. Sure, it was frustrating to still be a virgin at twenty-one, and there had been times when he’d wondered if it was really worth it to hold off, but he’d never been sure he was ready.
Now that he was dating Rabi, the wait was driving him insane. Waiting felt wrong now. Not like he’d run out of patience and just wanted to throw caution to the wind and have sex, but rather that Rabi was the one he’d been waiting for all this time. So what was the point of continuing to wait when Rabi was right there?
Whether or not he should give in to that temptation, he didn’t know. He was pretty sure, however, that the front pew of Arbor Hills Christian Church probably wasn’t the place to be having that mental debate. Or the accompanying erection that was inevitable if he stayed on this train of thought.
He shifted in the pew, trying not to draw attention to himself as he got comfortable.
At the front of the church, Pastor Rich closed his Bible and led everyone in prayer. He didn’t dismiss the congregation afterward, though. Instead, he gestured at Matthew’s father. “Before we go, Elder Swain would like to offer a few words.”
Everyone clapped politely as Dad got up and joined Pastor Rich at the pulpit. Great. The only other place Matthew felt guilty thinking about Rabi was at one of his dad’s campaign events. Now Dad was going up to the pulpit here at church so Matthew could feel twice as guilty.
Impure thoughts or not, Matthew never liked his dad using the pulpit to win votes. Dad knew where the lines were. He knew he couldn’t actively campaign at church without the church losing its tax-exempt status. He could, however, be as visible as humanly possible. It was so transparent to anyone who paid attention; Dad had always been active in the church, but he didn’t spend much time in front of the congregation when he wasn’t campaigning. He’d done this during his run for city council too. Lots of brief talks on Sunday, leading Bible study during the week, showing up at every charity event run by the church, and making generous donations that Pastor Rich always made sure to mention during his sermons.
He wondered if Emir Hashmi did this. If there was a way to subtly campaign in the mosque. Then again, Hashmi probably didn’t need to. The Muslim community of Arbor Hills had always voted overwhelmingly in favor of him. Matthew’s dad hated that, and ranted about it to no end. About how they just blindly voted for one of their own as if members of Arbor Hills Christian didn’t do the same damn thing.
Except Matthew didn’t think that was what the Muslims in this town did. With as loudly and proudly as Dad hated anyone who wasn’t a straight white Christian, it seemed like a no-brainer to vote for literally anyone who had a fighting chance of beating Dad. That thought made Matthew feel guilty and disloyal, but for God’s sake, why would anyone on Dad’s shit list vote for him?
They’re not blindly voting for Emir, Dad. They’re voting against you because they have every reason to be afraid of you.
He cringed a little. And I campaigned for you? Fuck.
He thought he might ask Rabi about whether Emir used the mosque to campaign, but he didn’t entertain that thought for long. They rarely talked about their fathers or the campaigns because they were too busy talking about literally anything else. Or their mouths were too busy to talk at all.
Matthew almost shivered as goose bumps sprang up all over him. He hadn’t seen Rabi yesterday because they’d both been tied up with their fathers’ campaign events. On top of that, Rabi couldn’t escape on Fridays, just like Matthew couldn’t today, and they wouldn’t see each other until tomorrow after class. The wait was driving him insane. He desperately needed to be with the man who knew all his secrets—who was his biggest secret—and wasn’t one disappointment away from shunning him. With Rabi, Matthew had found warmth and affection he’d never realized he needed, and being away from that was making him—
“Hey.” Nate elbowed Matthew. “You still here?”
Matthew shook himself, glancing around the church in case anyone else had noticed him zoning out. “I’m good.”
Nate chuckled. “Space cadet.”
“Bite me.”
His brother elbowed him playfully. Matthew elbowed him back. They both laughed, drawing scowls from their mom like they were a couple of kids. Sobering, they kept their gazes fixed on Dad, who was currently talking at length about the renovations that would be happening this spring. The renovations everyone knew were happening in large part thanks to a huge donation from the Swain family. He didn’t have to mention it. Everyone knew. And they’d remember on Election Day.
Matthew tuned him out.
And tried not to let impure thoughts of Rabi creep back into his mind.
Tried.
Sort of.
An hour and a half after the service had wrapped up, the Swain family was still making their way out of the church. That wasn’t unusual, especially lately. So many people wanted to come up to shake hands with Dad and wish him good luck in next week’s election.
Matthew smiled politely when he needed to, but mostly hung back and waited for everything to die down. While his folks schmoozed, he surreptitiously checked his phone in his lap.
Is it tomorrow yet? Rabi had written.
I wish, Matthew wrote back. Weekends suck when I can’t see you.
I know, right? Tomorrow night tho.
“You got a hot date or something?” Nate smirked. “Every time I turn around, you’re glued to that thing.”
Matthew laughed despite the heat in his cheeks, and quickly pocketed his phone. “Just being a typical millennial and obsessing over social media.”
“Uh-huh.” Derek arched an eyebrow. “Whose social media?”
“Mine.” Matthew shrugged. “Check my Facebook if you don’t believe me.”
His brothers chuckled, but there was still a wary knot in Matthew’s stomach. He had to be careful. Something told him that his brothers were the last people on the planet he wanted finding out about Rabi. They’d embraced Dad’s violent hatred of Muslims, gays, immigrants, liberals, and—most of all—Hashmis. Probably the only thing keeping them remotely restrained from beating up another Hashmi was what something like that could do to their dad’s political career. They’d gotten away with roughing up Mustafa Hashmi—a cousin of Rabi’s—in high school because school officials and the sheriff were willing to sweep it under the rug as “boys being boys.” It had also been heavily implied that Mustafa had started it. Mustafa’s parents had wisely let it drop instead of pulling the media or a lawyer into it. Matthew couldn’t imagine that would’ve ended in their favor.
His phone vibrated again. After a quick check to make sure no one was looking over his shoulder, he read the message.
Cornfield tomorrow?
Oh fuck. Nope, Matthew wasn’t concentrating on jack shit for the next twenty-four hours or so. Every time they went out by the abandoned cornfields, they fogged up the windows of Rabi’s truck. And every time, it was a little harder to convince himself they should keep restraining themselves.
He swore he was breathless as he wrote back, Definitely.
I am so going to lose my virginity in that truck, he thought as the message sent, and he grinned to himself. Yeah, maybe he was. Maybe sooner than—
“You ready to go?” Mom’s voice startled him.
“Hmm? What?” He shoved his phone into his pocket again. “Yeah. I’m ready to go when you guys are.”
She eyed him, but didn’t question him, and they fell into step with Dad on the way out to the parking lot.
Before Dad had even pulled out onto the road, Mom twisted around in the passenger seat to look at Matthew. “You know, Jessica Michaelson told me today her daughter is coming home from college for Christmas. She’d love to meet up with you.”
Matthew tamped down his annoyance. “I’m . . . really not . . .”
“What would it hurt?” she pressed. “Honey, you haven’t dated anyone in . . . well, no one that I’ve ever met.”
“I’m trying to focus on school.”
“And Krissy Michaelson will be back at school after the holidays, so—”
“So what’s the point of trying to match us up?” He kept his tone easy so he didn’t sound petulant or annoyed even though he was. His mother was forever trying to marry him off to every single woman in the congregation. “I don’t do long-distance relationships.”
“You don’t do relationships at all,” Dad muttered.
Matthew suppressed a sigh. He really needed to start driving himself to church like his brothers did. The only reason he didn’t was it seemed wasteful to take multiple cars from the house to church. Twenty miles each way was a lot of gas and a lot of emissions. Of course he just told his parents he didn’t want to deal with the parking situation. That was a hell of a lot easier than arguing about climate change being a hoax and his parents practically calling an exorcist every time they thought he sounded like a liberal.
Or like a guy who was trying to weasel out of yet another date with a single white Christian in possession of a presumably untouched vagina. His parents were permanently stuck in the 1950s. And Dad wondered why he couldn’t get votes from the twenty-five-and-under crowd.
Spoiler alert, Dad—it’s not because they’re a bunch of bleeding-heart communist Muslim-sympathizing liberals.
“Just meet her once,” Mom said. “If you aren’t interested, fine. But would you at least try?”
Matthew forced himself not to roll his eyes. “Do I really need to find someone? I’m twenty-one. And I mean, Derek and Nate aren’t married either. Why aren’t you pressuring them?”
“Because nobody thinks Derek and Nate are queer,” Dad snapped.
Cold water shot through Matthew’s veins. It wasn’t a surprise—Dad had been grilling him about his sexuality since he was fourteen—but lately Matthew had been terrified his parents would catch on that he was not only gay, he was in a relationship. Dating a man. Wanting to do more with that man than just sneak off and hike and steal a few kisses. Falling for the youngest son of Emir Hashmi.
Mom scowled at Dad, but she didn’t argue with him. Features softening, she turned around again to face Matthew. “We do have to consider the family’s reputation, you know. With your father being as high profile as he is, and with his conservative voters . . .”
This time, Matthew did roll his eyes. “So I need to get married, or at least find a girlfriend, so Dad’s voters won’t think he accidentally spawned a queer. Great.”
His father glared at him in the rearview.
Matthew was usually pretty good at keeping his irritation below the surface, but it had been wearing on him lately. He was in a relationship that was simultaneously the first one he’d ever wanted to shout from the rooftops, and the one he absolutely had to keep quieter than any relationship he’d ever had. Because God forbid Dad’s adoring public found out.
He sobered at the thought. If they did find out, Rabi could get hurt. So could Matthew, but in this town, the scales tilted pretty dramatically in favor of Rabi being the one in danger. No matter what, he had to keep what they were doing a secret. He couldn’t even let his family think he was seeing Rabi.
Dad glanced at Mom, and must have decided it wasn’t a good time for a discussion to turn into a battle because he gripped the wheel tighter and growled, “Matthew, your mother wants you to go on a date with the Michaelson girl. Just do it.”
Mom met Matthew’s gaze with pleading eyes. Pleading for him not to argue with Dad, for him to meet the girl she was going to so much trouble to set him up with, and please, please don’t be gay.
And don’t you dare let us even think you’re dating a man, especially not a man from that family, and—
“All right,” Matthew breathed. “I’ll have coffee with her.”
Mom’s face lit up, and she reached back to give his knee a squeeze. “Oh good! I’ll talk to Jessica and see if I can get Krissy’s number. Or maybe the two of you can connect on Facebook and get to know each other a little first.”
Matthew nodded without speaking. As his mom faced forward again and took out her phone—deliver me from tech-savvy moms trying to marry off their adult kids—he stared out the window.
Emissions be damned—maybe it was time to start driving himself to church.
And maybe afterward, he could take off, pick up Rabi, and go find an old cornfield.
Grinning, Matthew shivered.