2 Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth.
Song of Solomon, Vs. 2

J.T

I hate church. I've hated it ever since my parents first brought me when I was thirteen. I especially hated it when the pastor would go on his rants about homosexuality and how disgustingly wrong it was. How it was a sin. A disruption to all humanity. I swear, spit flew out of his mouth whenever he slapped out a spew of words and verses from 'The Bible' that clearly stated that man on man action was wrong. It got fucking irritating.

But I sat there like the good boy I was, hands folded on my lap, eyes forced open and trying not to shut and let me fall asleep, and my disgusted looks kept inside my mind. After all, my parents loved me and loved the fact that I was as straight as a board. Oh, boy, how they don't know their own son. I've had to live through this…pathetic hiding and church going forever. Now that I'm seventeen it's more then a little unbearable. Sitting in the uncomfortable hard pew waiting for the sermon to be over.

But it doesn't end there.

No, first my parents have to wait for everyone to file out of the sanctuary so they can proceed to where the pastor stands, shaking people's hands on the way out. I'll always smile and nod when my mother tells him what a fantastic sermon he had told today. Inside I would be disgusted, saying every curse word I could think of, and praying to the God that this man spoke of to let me out of this church as fast as possible. The dress clothes my parents made me wear were unbearably hot and fucking uncomfortable.

So, I figure this Sunday won't be any different from any other Sunday.

Except it is.

Not only did my parents drive to church earlier today so I could enjoy Sunday school with other teens my age, other straight teens, but they also signed me up for a week long church camp that our church held every summer for the kids that attended the church. Fuck that. Of course I couldn't tell them I couldn't go. I had to go. It was an obligation that I maintained a church-going, good boy, trophy Christian boy look. Who was I to let my parents down? I didn't argue when they told me about the camp – Word of Life camp. That's what it's called. Fucking lame if you ask me. – But I did grimace and push out a loud disappointed sigh.

Jennifer and Craig both ignored me.

But something else is different today. There's a new face. A new fuckin' hot face I might add. He looks older then me, not by much though. He looks like he just rolled out of bed without running a brush through his hair. He doesn't need to. His hair is perfect. Chestnut. It looks soft and I have the brief thought of running my fingers through it. It's not short but it isn't long either. My eyes move from his hair to his face. He's a fucking God – Smooth bronze skin, burning hazel eyes, perfect sculpted lips. I dub this teen as my fucking God.

The guy in the sky that I've learned about all these years probably doesn't look nearly as godly as this boy does. He's not sitting to far away from me – a few seats down and he hasn't noticed my eyes on him yet. I continue to let them explore, spoil themselves with his vision. When they fall across his hands resting on his lap – He's slouching lazily in his chair with a bored expression on his face. A sexy bored expression. – My brain goes haywire. He has fucking nice hands and I'm sure he can do amazing things with those long, graceful fingers.

My eyes fly back to his face and I nearly jump out of my skin when his eyes meet mine head on. Cheeks flushing with embarrassment I turn away using my shaggy blond hair to hide my red cheeks and shocked eyes. I slouch in my seat with one arm crossed over my chest and my other hand twirling my hair around nervously. I can't believe he caught me staring. Checking him out and I was being quiet obvious about it too. Dammit. Then our teacher stands up in the middle of the classroom and begins speaking about today's lesson.

I zone out.

I don't look back over at the brunet though. I wouldn't dare.

Instead I sit there and pretend like I'm listening. Suddenly, the teacher's looking right at me. Had he asked me a question? Fuck! Like I had been listening. I open my mouth to speak, to say anything but what can I say? "What?" Yeah, you go Taylor. How fucking intelligent. The youth teacher smiles encouragingly. "I asked you if you had any prayer request you'd like to share with the others so we can pray for you…" I raise an eyebrow. Fuck I did. I shake my head, snort and a smirk falls on my lips.

"Fuck. No."

Everyone gasps. Shit. I hadn't meant to say it out loud. The man's mouth hangs open slightly and he looks like he's been offended. I sit up in my seat. Dammit. I am so fucked. This is going to get around to my parents and they're going to freak. "Oops…did I say that out loud?" I continue to smirk and act like I had said the horrible curse words on purpose. Damn – and in front of all these virgin ears too. How fucking horrible of me. The teacher shakes his head, hand running furiously through his short red hair. It occurs to me that he has fucking ugly hair.

"Who are you again?"

Of course he doesn't know me yet. After all, it's my first day in an actual Sunday school class.

"Justin Taylor."

"Mr. Taylor, I think you should step outside of the room for a moment."

I shake my head.

"I'm perfectly fine here. Now, go on so I can learn more about God."

He looks appalled and I wonder where this act of rebellion has come from. I'm fucking myself over. My parents are going to fucking flip when they find out about this. I slouch back down in my chair, cross my arms over my chest and the man hesitantly goes to the next person and asks them if they have any prayer request. The girl responds with a positive, curse word free answer. I roll my eyes and slouch even lower. I wipe the palms of my hands on my faded blue jeans. I took it upon myself this morning to dress in whatever the fuck I wanted for church. Craig and Jennifer had been irate.

I got my way anyway. Somehow.

As soon as everyone gives their prayer requests to the teacher (The brunet had answered with a snort of his own and then a flat out "no.") we were dismissed to leave and head on over to the sanctuary for the third service. There were three services in the sanctuary. One at eight in the morning, the second service at nine and the third service at ten. It ended at twelve. Sighing, I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans and scurry out of the room before the teacher whatever the fuck his name is can pull me aside me and tell me I should ask God for forgiveness for using such profanity in His house.

"Taylor!"

An unfamiliar voice calls my name and I cease my walking and look over my shoulder. Fucking shit. The brunet. He just called me and now he's walking towards me with a smirk on his face. His own hands are stuffed into the pockets of a black hooded jacket he's wearing and I wish he wouldn't hide them under the fabric because his hands are beautiful. I frown and turn around. I don't run away 'cause I don't want to look like even more of an idiot. I shift on my Converse clad feet and watch as the brunet comes closer and closer and then he's right fucking there.

And he smells really good.

There's the faint scent of smoke, chocolate and musk. It's intoxicating.

"Yeah?"

I raise an eyebrow up at the brunet. It's now that I realize how tall he is. He's fucking towering over me. "I just came to make sure you were positive about not having any prayer requests 'cause I think it's really important that you share them so everyone can pray as a huge group effort." I smile 'cause I'm sure he's joking. There's an amused smile in his eyes and the same playful smirk on his fucking kissable lips. "As I said before: fuck no." He chuckles, deep and throaty and…sexy. Fuck him for being so perfect. And it's a pity that he's, most likely, straight. I shift slightly and then I decide it can't hurt to invite him to church with me. At least I won't have to sit with my parents.

"Comin' to church?"

"Unfortunately."

"Me too."

I'm usually talkative too. Daphne, my best-friend, is usually begging me to shut up. Now I can't get a word out without feeling my cheeks heat up and looking down at the ground every two seconds. "I'll sit with you." Good thing one of us said something 'cause I sure as hell wasn't going to be able to get it out. I smile up at him and nod. "Alright, sure. Let's go." He walks right next to me. His arm or hip brush lightly against mine a few times but I'm sure it's on accident because this boy is obviously straight. I don't know why I think he's straight but, I mean, he has to be. I'm sure I'm the only gay person in our church.

It's only when we're sitting in a pew on the balcony in the very back that he speaks again.

"Goin' to that 'Word of Life' camp?"

I groan in agony, quietly so I don't disturb the others in the pews around us.

"I'm being forced with a gun held against my head. You?"

"Yeah. My parents will look for any excuse to get rid of me for a little while."

I raise an eyebrow over at him.

"Are you serious?"

"Yeah. They love gettin' me out of the house."

"Oh."

Oh? OH! That's all you have to say? I look away from him and think about my own home life. My mother loves me, I know that. I'm like the apple of her eye or whatever-the-fuck. My dad on the other hand…he never misses out on a chance to complain about the fact that I never involve myself in any outdoor activities. That's the only reason he enrolled me in this camp with the church. Because there were going to be outdoor activities all the fucking time. I wasn't looking forward to it at all. I'm sure he loves me though even if he never says it and even if he never expresses any good feelings towards me. I can't imagine my parents sending me away to a camp just to get rid of me for a week though. I look back over at him, top teeth gnawing at my bottom lip.

"…I'm sorry."

He shrugs uncaringly.

"I don't care. I like to get out of the fuckin' house."

"Are they really that bad?"

I'm more curious then anything. Curious to know the things they say to him, to know if it's worst then what my father says to me sometimes. To know if he gets any love or affection at all. He meets my gaze. His eyes are slightly tortured all of the sudden; pained. "Yes." His answer is terse and it clearly states that this discussion is over. I nod and look away. I respect him for wanting to keep his life private but now I'm more curious then I was a few seconds ago. A part of me is concerned too. A few seconds later I feel his gaze land on me again.

"Why are you goin' to camp?"

"My parents think it'll be a good influence on my faith."

I'm dead serious. They also said they wanted me to go because they thought it would be a fun experience – Meeting and befriending other Christian kids my age and actually having a social life. That's what my dad had said. He chuckles and suddenly I'm aware of something. I have no idea who the fuck I'm talking to. I have no idea what his name is. I look over at him, eyebrow raised. "Were you planning on telling me your name anytime soon?" He grins and shrugs. "You didn't ask." I roll my eyes. "Well, I'm talking to you so I think I have every right to know your name. Plus, you know mine."

"Brian Kinney."

"Justin Taylor."

He smirks.

"I know."

"I know you know but I'm trying to be all formal about it. Now I'm going to shake your hand."

It's just an excuse to touch his beautiful hand. To see at least one of them again. Grinning, I hold out my hand and he slowly pulls one of his out of his jacket and then clasps his hand around mine. The touch goes straight to my cock and I try not to concentrate on how fucking perfect his hand fits around my smaller one and how the contrasts of our skin is a fucking turn on and how much I want this person to fuck my virginity off the planet. I quickly let go as if his touch burned me and, in a way, it did.

My hand and whole arm is tingling and my fingers are burning.

My cheeks are heating up too.

I look away from his before he can catch a glimpse of my pink cheeks but I realize that it's probably too late for that. I hope he doesn't catch on though. I hope he doesn't realize how fucking hot he's making me. The rest of the service we throw little paper wads at random people's heads, get dragged out of the church by an usher and we wait outside for the service to end so our parents can come out and find out how disrespectful we were being during church. When mine come out they look at me disappointedly, don't say a word, and, with their eyes tell me to get my ass to the car. I smile over at Brian and offer him a small wave over my shoulder. He offers me a 'see ya' and I have a feeling that no matter how long my parents are going to chew me out I'll still be happy.

Because I saw the face of God in church today.

B.K

I watch the blond disappear, his form getting smaller and smaller as he walks further and further away with his parents. He's the most fucking beautiful kid I've ever seen in my life and my first thought when I first laid eyes on him was: 'God, I have to fuck him.' He only made me want to fuck him more when I had caught him staring at me, blatantly checking me out. And when he looked away from me startled. When he had cursed shamelessly in 'Sunday School Class'. His bright smile when straight to my needy cock.

God, he was fucking beautiful.

Shiny and shaggy blond hair that fell across his face and eyes giving him a 'I'm sexy without even trying' look. His full, pink lips that had been begging me all through the church service to kiss them. His cute – Yes, I said cute – nose and his eyes. Oh, fuck, his eyes. Innocent but not innocent at the same time, a dark swirling color of blue and a darker shade of blue. His long black lashes that, when he closes his eyes while laughing, brushed across his blushing cheeks. I want him. I need him. I want to fuck him so bad.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts when Joan, the frigid bitch that popped me out, stalked out of the church with a pissy expression on her face. "What did you do this time, Brian?" I shake my head and don't answer. She frowns disdainfully at me and I follow her to her car. Jack, of course stayed home today. He never comes to church. He sits in front of the TV, drinks until he can't think coherently and waits for us to come home. When he finds out that I've been bad at church he'll beat me. But, even if I had been good, he would've done so anyway. Fucking bastard.

I'm actually glad I'm going to this lame ass church camp for a week.

Anything to get away from him and my un-motherly mother.

The drive home is silent except for Joan muttering things under her breath and touching her cross necklace every five seconds. She's probably praying for me and my wrong-doing. Begging God to forgive me for all my sins and getting kicked out of church. And, just like I predicted, when we get home Jack didn't miss a chance to bruise my already bruised skin after Joan had told him what happened today. He laughed, beat me and drank more beer. Fucking alcoholic bastard.

Author's Note: It's true – the church I attend does really do a camp called 'Word of Life' camp where you go out in the wilderness, stay in cabins, and partake in outdoor activities. I've never gone to said camp 'cause I really don't want to. And, yes, my church has three services and all that jazz. So that's the part that's based off real life events. Nothing else.