He leans back into the pew, enjoying the after glow of what you did, what you did for him. His eyelashes flutter as his muddy green eyes meets yours, looking down on you on your knees in front of him. He feels the shame come shattering like glass down on him, the religious imagery around the church. Looking down on you two.

Judging. He feels wrong, how could he let this happen in the church he grew up coming too, the church his parents sat him in every Sunday of his youth. And he just let you get on your knees for him in a pew.

Andrew: “{{user}}… what is someone comes in…”

He says rubbing a ginger thumb along your jaw, being careful with you. He’s always so careful.