As we laze, I lie again in sin. I gave him pleasure for I could not justify my own. But my shame is in the double bluff, for I know no greater pleasure than eliciting his.

This stress is consuming me, a sorry contrast to what my eyes behold. Christian; so peaceful, again drifting in and out of sleep – happy, I think. I watch as his huge chest rises and falls, his hand gripped around my little finger like a child's. He is at ease – it is the most wonderful sight.

I can't disturb him now, but I feel such an urge to get up and wash the heavenly taste of him from my mouth so that I might stop enjoying it. It burns in my throat, taunting me, a wicked reminder of my sin. God must judge me, pity me, for taking pleasure in the act, for delighting in his moans, for being so near to release myself when his was being realised. The fact that he can experience all this without shame or guilt truly adds to my joy – but it is alien to me. At best, my happiness lasts through the adrenaline, but once this wears off, I feel branded with shame. My family lie in tatters only minutes away but here I lay, entwined with the man I try to pretend I don't savour the taste of. I fail again.

He stirs, wrapping his strong arms around me, bringing me into his chest and for just a second I feel warm and fuzzy. I lapse into guilt once again, only for him to bring my face up to his and kiss me tenderly, like I deserve to be treated with care. My face screws up, disappointed that I am enjoying this, that only a small part of me remains moral and desperate to stop my indulgence. But it loses out – I am won over by the softness of his lips, the warmth of his tongue, the tease of him gripping my bottom lip with his teeth.

My shorts tighten, oh please, no! Please don't notice, Christian! But he does. Of course he does. My face screws up again.

"Sy. Relax."

His voice is so soothing... but I can't breathe. I'm mortified.

"Sy..." He smiles and I melt. "You make me feel really... happy."

"I want you to feel happy. More than I've ever wanted anyone to feel happy."

"If I touched you, would you flinch?"

Flinch, no, but I know what he implies. And I can't. It wouldn't be... ach! Oh god. No, Christian, don't touch me. I can't... Oh god, I wish I hadn't looked up. His eyes are locked onto mine and I feel a wave of warmth over me. My breath keeps getting caught. I can't deal with their suggestiveness. My voice cracks and tears fill my eyes, ready to fall upon my first blink. He stops.

"Syed, I'm sorry!"

"No, it's fine."

"I didn't mean to push it. … Oh, I'm sorry. Come here." He pulls me in tight and my tears leave me. He hasn't done anything wrong. I just couldn't do that with God watching me. I couldn't insult him in that way – defy him for a ten minute gratification. I couldn't take his judgement knowing I had no justification for such self-indulgent actions.

Christians fingers were combing through my hair and he rocked me slightly, trying to sooth me. My shorts no longer struggled against my shame, I was calm.

"I need some water."

He brought me some and I tried to be subtle about swilling it round my mouth.

He looked at me like he was assessing me and then stood up. "Do you want your t-shirt? Would that...?" Help, I guess he was trying to say. I didn't see the logic behind it. If anything, I needed him to put something on so that I might not be so tempted every time I looked at him. But could I say that?

"No, I'm fine. I just think..."

"Would you like to go?" He waited for my response but I didn't know my answer. "I'm a big boy. I can look after a few cuts."

"They're not just a few cuts though, are they?"

"I'll be okay. … Sy, I will! Just go, do what you have to do."

"I do want to be here. You do know that, don't you?"

He tries to smile but it's the saddest thing. His face looks... defeated. Oh Christian! How can you say I make you happy?

A tear falls down his cheek and he immediately wipes it away, forgetting he is bruised, and takes a sharp breath in reaction to the sting. He reprimands himself and then, for a reason I can't tell, his anger builds and he curses himself.

"Christian, stop!" He reluctantly calms. "Let's just... one thing at a time." I sit him down and stroke his arm to keep him relaxed.

"I'm sorry. I'm just... you can go, really."

"They can wait til morning. I'm not going to leave you like this."

"Morning?"

"Is that okay?"

"Well, yeah! I just..." I let him trail off. We both know the silence explained it all better than words could. "I made such a mess of things, Sy."

"No..."

"No, I did! I pushed you too far, I wish I hadn't. I wish..." Another sentence that didn't require completion. I knew what he wished for. Some days I wished for it too. Sometimes, I would be with him and just block everything else out so that I could appreciate the time I had with him. Sometimes, when I was struggling with burden, he helped me, he lifted it himself. He was good at helping me forget it all. I'm so blessed to have him in my life, someone who is so kind and caring and... wait! Blessed? Have I just had the most blasphemous of thoughts?

"Syed?" I'm interrupted. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For everything."