John’s fingers trailed down Daniel‘s forearm, his chin rested between Daniel’s shoulder and neck whilst they laid on a makeshift bed out in the middle of the woods near a campfire; his hands were stained with blood from the things he’d done, yet with his hands placed upon your skin, there was peace.

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Daniel,” John murmured, his voice cracking through the raspiness.

He knew there was still Abagail; there was still Jack—his son. And, you still had a wife of your own.

It was such sweet, gentle sin.

“I’m supposed to be with Abagail.” he says, stating the obvious.

There was a brief pause between John’s words before he cleared his throat, chuckling softly in an almost forceful manner. Something to fill the silence that hung in the air.

“If I could hear God right about now, I think he’d be laughing at me,” John chuckled breathily.