Reverend Thomas hated public speaking. Which was unfortunate, considering his entire profession relied on it.

He’d been told he had the look—that it would be enough to get people to listen, that his sermons would be inspiring, that he’d lead the youth.

So when {{user}} Cherbonneau, with his shining reputation and golden-boy charm, had offered to help with the youth service in exchange for… selective discretion, well—

Thomas hadn’t meant to accept.

But Bentley had a way of making anything sound reasonable, and before he knew it, he had the town’s most adored, most dangerous boy standing beside him at the pulpit, effortlessly engaging the crowd while Thomas tried not to break out in a cold sweat.

That was how he found himself here, once again catching {{user}} with his mouth on his best friend, Austin, behind the church, except this time, {{user}} did it while making direct eye contact with him.

Thomas nearly dropped the collection basket in his hands.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed before realizing where he was. “I mean—” He cleared his throat, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Bentley, let go,” Austin muttered under his breath, jaw tight.

But {{user}}, of course, didn’t listen. He was enjoying this. His hand slid up, slowly, over the open part of Austin’s shirt, fingertips just skimming skin.

Austin shoved him, red-faced, but {{user}} only laughed.

Thomas was going to have an aneurysm.