Drabble (x3): Sundays Ain't for Sinners
I guess drabbles are like potato chips (or glasses of wine)!
Title: Sundays Ain't for Sinners
Author: Isabelle
Word Count: 300
Warning: cursing, religious issues, reference to m/m sex
Brought to you by the letter S and the day Sunday
Fucking hated Sundays, made him feel like a sinner. Would sit in church the few times Alma forced him to go and, like the devil was messing with him, couldn’t stop thinking of Jack. Sitting in the pew, by his wife and daughters, but still thinkin of Jack. Jack sweaty and pantin, his blue eyes dazed cause Ennis had just fucked him within an inch of his life. Jack whispering think you fuckin killed me this time. It was some cruel trick the universe played on him, making those nasty thought creep up on him so much worse in God’s house. Couldn’t never tell Alma why he hated church, though he had a suspicion she already knew. Like church was her only weapon against what he was. Trying to stop the images only made it worse. He’d stopped praying along time ago, couldn’t get into the spirit of things. Told himself he didn’t believe, but Jesus up there on that cross, martyred for his sins made him want to puke. Sins he should repent, shouldn’t never repeat. But he lived to repeat them, weeks and months of drab dark piety for those two shinin weeks of sining with Jack. If all the devil and damnation shit the preacher rained down on him from the pulpit was true, then the devil himself sure had Ennis del Mar in his snare. Didn’t much matter though, he’d tried stopping before, just about killed him. Way Alma and the preacher saw it, Ennis was for sure going to hell. Had to regret your sins to be saved. Ain’t no way in hell he could repent for Jack. Seeing those eyes full of sadness was hell enough on earth for Ennis. Told himself, at least if he went to hell, Jack’d be there with him.
Title: Sundays Ain't for Sinners
Author: Isabelle
Word Count: 300
Warning: cursing, religious issues, reference to m/m sex
Brought to you by the letter S and the day Sunday
Fucking hated Sundays, made him feel like a sinner. Would sit in church the few times Alma forced him to go and, like the devil was messing with him, couldn’t stop thinking of Jack. Sitting in the pew, by his wife and daughters, but still thinkin of Jack. Jack sweaty and pantin, his blue eyes dazed cause Ennis had just fucked him within an inch of his life. Jack whispering think you fuckin killed me this time. It was some cruel trick the universe played on him, making those nasty thought creep up on him so much worse in God’s house. Couldn’t never tell Alma why he hated church, though he had a suspicion she already knew. Like church was her only weapon against what he was. Trying to stop the images only made it worse. He’d stopped praying along time ago, couldn’t get into the spirit of things. Told himself he didn’t believe, but Jesus up there on that cross, martyred for his sins made him want to puke. Sins he should repent, shouldn’t never repeat. But he lived to repeat them, weeks and months of drab dark piety for those two shinin weeks of sining with Jack. If all the devil and damnation shit the preacher rained down on him from the pulpit was true, then the devil himself sure had Ennis del Mar in his snare. Didn’t much matter though, he’d tried stopping before, just about killed him. Way Alma and the preacher saw it, Ennis was for sure going to hell. Had to regret your sins to be saved. Ain’t no way in hell he could repent for Jack. Seeing those eyes full of sadness was hell enough on earth for Ennis. Told himself, at least if he went to hell, Jack’d be there with him.