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Gimp suits are Satan’s straight-jackets, Kelvin decides. Trying to find its zipper is an offense. Trying to yank that zipper down is a challenge sent directly from the top dog J.C. hisself.
“How did you even get into this?” Kelvin says through gritted teeth, his gelled bangs styled perfectly to be exactly in the way. He tries another pull but the zipper refuses to budge.
It’s a test. Surely. For Kelvin as much as it is for poor Keefe.
“A lot of marijuana and body oil.” Keefe says, softer-spoken and apologetic, just as he has been since the Black Mass-type bath to now in the privacy of Kelvin’s upstairs bathroom. Hunched forward and angling himself to the side, he says, again, “I’m sorry, brother.”
“I know, I know. You got nothin’ to be sorry about. This is all part of His journey for you and - g-dangit, I’m gettin’ the scissors. Don’t you move even a single muscle.”
Ever reliable, Keefe doesn’t. Kelvin finds him still standing with his arm over his head and his body tilting all precarious on one foot, a gold-embroidered hand-towel held chastely over his - parts - just as he’d left him.
The red latex is defeated swiftly and fully under the precise holy hacking Kelvin delivers, revealing old scars and dark curling hair leading Hellwards and faded tattoos - Kelvin reminds himself to ask Martin to find the best laser removal specialist in the state or, heck, the country. Keefe deserves the top tier medical staff the Gemstones can afford.
No disciple of Kelvin’s is going to have no second-rate nothing.
Tossing the scissors into the sink with the last of the latex scraps being shoved into the trash bin where they will be burned in holy fire, Kelvin heaves a breath out and puts his hands on his hips to admire his work.
Naked as the day this precious soul was born into this world, Keefe stands free from the shackles of demonic worship, shivering, and high off his tits.
“Thank you, friend.” Keefe says, focused on the floor, eyes a little glassy and all kinds of sore. “I’m sorry.”
Kelvin holds his hand up. “No sorries, mister. Only showers and a good night’s rest for you and me both.”
His leather pants had started to chafe fifteen minutes after he’d put them on. Burning thighs is nothing to joke about.
Nodding, Keefe glances around the bathroom, avoiding Kelvin and clutching tight at his towel two-handed. It’s the complete lack of confidence he still holds on so tightly to that gets Kelvin feeling something terrible.
“Don’t be shy with me of all people.” He takes hold of Keefe’s bulky, oiled shoulders and squeezes, happy to feel how warm he is despite the stink of the club still clinging wet to him.
“It’s just.” Keefe bites hard at his well-abused lip. “I’ve been penetrated.”
“Say what?”
Keefe’s difficulty of looking anywhere near Kelvin’s eyes continues as he stares at the master bath’s Italian marble tile, worrying his lip with his confounding behind-closed-door proclamations.
“Inside me. It was part of being the Baby.”
“All right.” Kelvin nods.
“I was the baby.”
“No, I got that, my man. I - I saw. I am aware.”
He doesn’t understand, but he keeps up with the nodding and the kind smile and the reassuring bicep rubs for Keefe’s sake and his own. Mind circling around penetrated and inside me while skipping over the baby.
So many things about Keefe confused Kelvin since he’d met the man. Gimp suit had been researched and dissected in late-night google searches after Keefe opened up and told him of his journey before being Found.
Kelvin had wanted to be well read on what he had gone through when he’d been a lost lamb to better help him.
The ordeals.
The men.
The women.
The masses he’d let use his body in search of community where his family had failed him.
Kelvin studied and discovered and course corrected and through hard work and prayer and plain divine appointed need to save this man, found a way for God to enter Keefe’s growing heart.
Yet there’s always some new challenge around the corner when it comes to Keefe Chambers.
“Is it,” Kelvin dips his head to hook Keefe into just a smidgen of eye contact that Kelvin isn’t sure he really wants all that much neither, but he has a responsibility, even when the words are hard to say. “Is it still inside you?”
At Keefe’s jerky nod, where his ears go a little pink around the edges, Kelvin knows this is the moment he needs to really step up. His heart pounds for it just as his unmentionables start to coil in a tight, distracting tension.
“I can try and get it out.” Keefe rushes to say, as quiet and reserved as he can’t help but be, says it just like he says I’ll make the smoothies after their workouts. “I will. I shouldn’t have - I wouldn’t want you to - “
“This is my responsibility, Keefe.” Kelvin says with conviction. He cups Keefe’s face in his now-oily hands, thumbs resting on the sharp cut of his cheekbones, fingers hugging his blush-hot ears. “I turned my back on you when you needed me and I will not be doing that again.”
Keefe starts to shake his head, a denial on the behalf of Kelvin and his honor as a pastor, but his grip is unyielding. One must accept one’s faults on occasion.
Even if it makes the back of Kelvin’s knees start to sweat in leather - the unholiest of combinations.
Swallowing around an abruptly dry mouth, Kelvin takes hold of Keefe’s hand and brings him through to his bedroom, grabbing a towel on the way he lays it on the bed at the edge. A buzz fills his head like he’s being inflated with helium and bees.
“You settle down right there and I’ll free you of your - your sinful burden in a jiffy and a half. Won’t take even a second.” Kelvin says, smiling, with all the confidence of a celibate man of God who’s a real GOAT at awkward predicaments.
Sermons on the dangers of self-pleasure and the birds and the bees talks with parishioner kids whose parents need his aid in jumping over tricky S-E-X hurdles of these modern times - Kelvin specializes in awkward.
Keefe nods and sits on Kelvin’s king-size bed. Lying back he hooks his hands under his knees and pulls. Spreads himself open for Kelvin’s helping, abruptly sweaty, hands.
Steely hard-earned confidence melts at the sight of the sparkling familiar red bejeweled knob sticking out from between - seeing Keefe’s everything in all his glory, Kelvin experiences the full constriction leather pants have to offer a man.
The upstairs always gets too hot. He’d told Daddy as much. Ventilation is almost as important as a sweet-A design.
“You don’t have to - “ Keefe tries after the moment stretches on longer than Kelvin had intended.
“I was just thinking,” His mouth moves and then his buzzing head catches up, “It’s too quiet. Lets put on some tunes, shall we?”
“All right.”
Kelvin pulls out his phone from his back pocket - it squeaks against the leather and makes him jump. Opening Music, the words blend and every albums is a jumble of colors. He taps one just to get any noise going on the built-in speakers and sets his phone down on one of his bedside tables.
He says a silent prayer.
Keefe’s watching him and, without needing to tell him otherwise, hasn’t moved an inch.
“All right.” Kelvin says back to him and moves to stand between Keefe’s open legs, his hands hanging in the air, prepared for something and instead just sort of dangle. Keefe has dark hair on his calves that fades closer to his thighs and grows curly and thick at the base of his -
Kelvin presses himself to the edge of his bed, the slight pressure of his mattress against his - the same mattress where he and Keefe would marathon movies on his laptop when the home theater grew stale and bedtime was nigh.
Kelvin touches the shiny knob, his knuckles brushing against the softest, warmest skin he’s - and Keefe twitches up his thighs to his jumping stomach to the rest of him and grunts.
“Are you okay?” Kelvin asks.
Keefe nods, the red on his ears has bloomed across his pinched face.
“That area is sensitive.”
“Understood.” Kelvin nods, again not understanding, lost at the edge of a completely unknown area of life. A touch of righteous anger licks at Kelvin’s heels at the very real fact that someone had violated Keefe so intimately, had touched him, had played with his trust, had not valued Keefe in the way he deserved. If Kelvin had -
Gingerly and with the utmost gentleness and care any Gemstone has ever had since Momma departed this world, Kelvin takes hold of this ghoulish instrument’s base and pulls.
Keefe grabs hold of Kelvin’s shoulders, fisting at his puffy sleeves.
“I got you, bud.” Kelvin tells him, leaning over him and bracing himself with one hand on the mattress next to Keefe’s shoulder, the dark duvet wrinkles under his weight.
“I know you do, friend.” Keefe says, looking down at himself.
Kelvin, despite what he knows is right, lets curiosity take the wheel from Him.
He looks too.
He pulls just a little more, watching as Keefe’s - self - stretches wider and wider around something much bigger than Kelvin had thought - would never actually think about, ever - could be inside a person.
Keefe moans low underneath him, his thick thighs twitching.
“Does it hurt?” Kelvin says.
“N-no.” Keefe says, chin tucked in, shaking his head, his tangled hair going all over while his brown eyes well up. “The - the opposite of that, sir.”
Kelvin wipes his entirely-too-sweaty hand on the towel, leaving Keefe open and stretched tight over what Kelvin prays is finally at its widest part and readjusts his grip on its base. He angles it one way and Keefe jumps. He angles it another and Keefe whines, scratching through the thin linen of Kelvin’s shirt.
“That’s good.” Kelvin can’t catch his breath. It’s just gone. “I don’t want you to be in any pain.”
He pushes this perverse tool back inside and Keefe’s body sucks it back in, his hips hitch up, his legs spread wider.
Lord help him, he does it three more times.
Kelvin licks his lips and closes his eyes, but he can still see Keefe as sure as he can smell him and feel him and know that it is him even in the darkness of his head - so what is the point?
He hopes Momma’s busy up there in Heaven and she misses when Kelvin opens his eyes to watch as he dispels this wickedness from Keefe’s body, that she misses Keefe wrapping his legs around Kelvin’s backside and experiencing the feel of a man’s heels digging into him and that, for the sake of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit his good Christian Momma won’t notice how Kelvin’s weakness curls in, enraptured, pressing his forehead to Keefe’s as Keefe wraps his arms around Kelvin's neck and paints the both of them in his jizz.
He hopes Momma still thinks he’s good.
Keefe’s - his body is left open, searching for something divine to fill him. The thought makes Kelvin gasp. Has him darn-near-convulsing in his pants. Has him pressing against the side of his bed, chasing after what it is that’s left Keefe reeling.
He tosses the Great Evil somewhere to be burned to ashes later and swallows each of Keefe’s heaving breaths, bracing himself on his elbows, twisting strands of Keefe’s mullet between his fingers.
The buzz in Kelvin’s head quiets.
He hopes he passed this test. He hopes Keefe did too.
Shaking, Keefe paws at Kelvin’s back. Tears well up fat to cling at his eyes and spill down his cheeks.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Keefe says again and again.
“I told you, no apologies necessary. Your body’s just - that’s God getting rid of all that pent up sin.” His voice cracks like he’s some kid again. He’s shaking. He laughs a little hysterically. “I ain’t wearing this outfit again anyways.”
“It’s a very nice outfit.” Keefe says between his sniffling, his warm thighs squeeze Kelvin’s sides. Their noses bump together and the touch wakes Kelvin up.
“I wanted to express the darkness I felt and fit in with those Satan worshippers.”
“I completely understand.”
“Don't go back there. Never ever, okay? Word?”
“Never again. I swear it, brother. I swear on my love for -," Keefe pauses and looks at Kelvin and Kelvin can't make much sense of it, " - Christ.”
"I believe you, Keefe." He says.
Untangling himself from Keefe and his oiled-up body is a must.
Kelvin does it as quickly as he can. Pushes away from that pressure. 29 year old spine cracking good when he stands up straight. He clears his throat. Wipes his hands on his shirt. Concentrates on his smooth-textured ceiling. Thinks about Daddy firing the three of them. Thinks about Jesse's sins and how they're worlds worse than any Kelvin could think to commit.
With his head clearing and that hot, devilish coil inside him cooling, he hears Momma and Uncle Baby Billy sing from the speakers in the walls He taught us that tricks and mischief lead to Satan, so from now on there's no Misbehavin'.
“I swear I can explain, Momma.” Kelvin says Heavenwards with big plans for his overdue night-night prayer and a few questions if God has the time for some answers.