Shameless

Isaac's POV

Another thing.

Isaac's lips ached with the memories of that kiss, snatched by force, without consent, as if it had been his right to steal.

You must not steal.

Yeah, that certainly doesn't appear to be the only one of the Ten Commandments he'd been breaking lately.

Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor's wife.

Isaac shifted his head back against the driver seat and shut his eyes. What about lusting over your step-sister's fiancé?

That, he believed, fell under the same scope.

What about keeping the Sabbath sacred?

That one had been a hopeless case from the minute he opened his eyes that day, body soaked in sweats, pulse-pounding against his ribs as he awoke from an intense frightening dream of Cristian. His daily rituals-showers, shave, coffee, and breakfast-had partly dulled the recollection of the dream. But when he decided to pull into the church parking lot and saw Cristian, dressed nicely and looking like an Angel sent down from heaven on a specific mission to torture him with what he couldn't have—the illusion came back with a vengeance, burning through Isaac's body with such heat that he had not dared even get out of He remained in the car for a couple of minutes before he forced his body to settle down.

When things got worse, he found himself sitting next to Cristian in the restroom, wiping away tears from his hot cheeks, and wanting to just pick him up and take him home to show him once and for all what it was like to love someone and have that person love you.

Isaac shook like if he was about to fall to the floor. While staring at the bottom of the vehicle roof, he let out a weak sigh and opened his eyes. He had no idea what he was expecting when he follows Cristian out of the church. He hadn't expected anything in return for attempting to help him. His head didn't seem to be functioning properly these days. It tends to glitch and seize in Cristian's presence, and it occasionally came up with strange ideas that Isaac appeared powerless to carry out.

Like your dinner prank in the wine cellar? The stolen kiss at the dinner?

A moan clung to his throat. He combed his fingers through his thick, black hair, then on his back to grab the seat's headrest. He was still perplexed as to why he had kissed her. It wasn't on purpose. What's with the teasing? Yes. Unwarranted? Without a doubt, but it was still planned. Cristian was in such denial—even after the event in the cellar—that Isaac couldn't help but show the guy how much he needed his lips. A childish gesture, but his mind had gone into one of those flitting fits.

But there's the kiss. That wasn't on his to-do list. That was his plan as he turned to leave—to simply leave. Get out of the way. . Eliminate yourself from the path. Why stay in a place where he wasn't desired by anyone but his father? Cristian had made it apparent that he agreed with Ashly on everything. He'd gone to the door and then...

Another thing.

The words were spoken before he even realized he was about to say them. Then he pressed his teeth against Cristian's. If the man had protested even little, Isaac may have backed off. Cristian, on the other hand, had not resisted. He hadn't fought me. Instead, he dived into him, and the man's desire and hunger had ignited a flame in Isaac that raced through him like a wildfire.

The scene replayed in his mind on a continuous loop. Had he kissed him only to spite him? Because Cristian insisted on standing firm by Ashly's side? Was the source truly that petty and immature? Nonetheless, he had no recollection of feeling vengeful. But if it wasn't motivated by malice, what was the point?

Isaac slipped his hands over the steering wheel's curvature, his eyes fixed on the church's twin entry doors. He'd gone earlier with no destination in mind—he just wanted to get away from there. But running away from what, exactly? What had prompted him to leave the venue?

Keep your distance from me. Don't ever come near me again.

Those lines delivered a sting that was far more painful than it should have been.

Isaac slumped back against the bench once more and massaged his tight face with his hands, a weight in his neck and chest restricting his breathing. He clenched his eyes tight with both fists shoved up into his hair. Why had he returned here? To apologize to his father for simply walking away without saying anything? That was his justification for turning around and returning to the church. But now that he was here, the reason felt flimsy, like if it were nothing more than that.

What exactly are you doing? Remember how he said he didn't want your kind of help?

The tight hold on his hair began to relax. His hands returned to the steering wheel. The agonizing memory of the torrid kiss from the night before tormented and tortured his lips. The desire for another was almost too much for him to handle. His heart accelerated, and he snatched the ignition key, preparing to rev the engines and then get the heck out of there before his head went wild and caused him to stumble into another pool of idiocy.

The key was pressed between his fingers, and the smooth metal of the ignition slot felt cool on his fingertips.

Leave. Ignore the guy. You're doing him more damage than good.

Forcing Cristian to give in to his basic impulses was not proof that the man genuinely desired him. He couldn't stop himself. Cristian's reactions to Isaac's approaches lacked sincerity. The man was only following his baser impulses.

Cristian refused to be assisted.

He doesn't want anybody to help him, neither himself nor Ashly, because he doesn't need it.

He desired to be saved. That was all he needed- to be saved.