See Part One For Disclaimers

Silence.  Utter silence; not a word spoken, breath returned in short gasps as their lips parted and two sets of bewildered eyes, blue-gray and green met and searched.

Silence.  And then . . .

"Did you mean it?"

Maybe it was the sudden lack of oxygen that prompted, "What?"

"The kiss -- did you mean it?"

Rocked by the quiet question, Philip was all too painfully reminded of who and what he was.  And who he was with.  

He couldn't do this.  It wouldn't be fair.  "Nick, I . . . I -I . . . I mean, th' church . . . "

Beneath him, Nick turned to stone; the open expression that had made him appear so vulnerable before, so young, closing down, shutting him and everything else out.  "Z't's ok.  I understand."  The self-loathing in the flat tone as he turned away twisted his heart.

No -- no you don't. Philip wanted to scream it but he couldn't get the words past the lump in his throat at even a whisper.  

Dear God.  He loved him.  Knew it in a burst of clarity so pure that the only thing keeping him from a spontaneous confession was the lump that threatened now to steal his breath.

When Ravenwood had used his body to almost kill Nick . . . the only thing Philip had thought about was his brother lying in the dirt of the basement floor, unconscious and bleeding, the shovel that knocked him out now being used to dig his grave.  How easily it would have been for the priest to kill Ravenwood, to damn his own soul to Hell for all eternity if only to save his friends.

How could he tell the only person who had meant so much to him -- his best friend, a brother -- that he would gladly give everything up if only that same man would, could look at him the same way?  More than friends.  Friends never felt like this, this need to be near him; the way Nick took all of his pain and made the agony bearable, if only with a look?  

But the only thing he could think of was the church; the censure he would receive if he ever dared take that step.  

"Nick, I . . . "

Looking into green eyes gone dull, suddenly . . . suddenly the church didn't mean as much to him as erasing the pain his indecision had caused.  He didn't know where he would end up, the church or the Legacy; right now, at this moment, he didn't care.  It was his job to ease the suffering, dammit, not to be the cause of more of it in the world and especially not in the people he held the most dearly.  Somehow, someway . . . God would make it right.

Sometimes you just had to go a little on faith.

"Screw th' church."  The grim smile easing at the stunned look, Philip nodded.  "I meant 't."

The walls cracked again for the second time that day, hesitant but there.  "Yeah?"

Another smile -- broad if somewhat shy -- answered it.  "Yeah."

"I -- thanks."  Low and hoarse, gathering his wits from the most welcomed admission, Nick managed to answer with, "But I'd rather you screw me."

"Nick!" That shocked a laugh out of him and Philip drew back a little, the action allowing him a better view of Nick's mischievous grin.  "You did that on purpose!"

Borrowing a line, he answered, "Yah -- but I meant it."

The young priest's grin drew up again shyly, but it was open and his heart was in it.  "N' so did I."

"Then kiss me again?"

An embarrassed chuckle informed him shakily, "You kissed me!"

Looking up at the blushing man above him, Nick looked thoughtful for a moment; then, "Okay."  And his lips were moving upwards, catching, grazing.  Pulling back slightly, stretching into a grin before moving again, arching up, this time to be met in equal distance by Philip who instinctively lowered until he lay, resting lightly, on the body stretched out beneath him.

He felt strong arms folding up, surrounding him.  Nick's hands bunched into cloth as his fingers sought the warmth of skin beneath, smoothing out again to cover as much territory as possible in the journey up and down along the hard back.  

For his part, Philip, no longer divided for the first time in weeks, was simply content to curl down and kiss.

He had been right.  Nothing had ever felt like this -- this sudden, undeniable need to be a part of him, to breathe the same breath, share the same skin.  It shot a bolt of pure pleasure through his body and scared the hell out of him.  He had no clue what he wanted, he simply wanted everything.  Everything and anything this man could give him and he wanted to return it the same way.  Nothing in his life had ever prepared him for this; it was scary, intense -- and he couldn't get enough.

Breaking the kiss with great reluctance rather than pass out, Philip rested his head along one shoulder, feeling Nick's arms around him, his fingers as they trailed random patterns along his spine as his own brushed the outside of Nick's ribs.  Both men content to simply lay there, soak up the new closeness they had discovered, he realized he hadn't felt home like this in -- forever.  

Grounded, secure.  Safe.  Emotional safe.

"You don't have to be alone anymore, Philip."

The whisper in his ear made him shiver, but not with cold.  The pledge, so close to his own thoughts, held such promise, such understanding that he was dizzy with it.

"Thank you."  It seemed so inadequate for what he was feeling but that was all he could think to say.  But Nick understood.  The smile in his voice didn't have to been seen to be heard.  "Anytime."

"I -- I want . . . "

"What?" Nick's smile was happy, green eyes sparkling; what could be seen of them escaping beyond the fringe of lashes hiding them as the ex-SEAL admired his blushing friend.  That particular shade of firecracker red was spectacular and, although it wasn't quite Philip's best color, Nick found the shy blush made the priest look totally adorable, urging, "Tell me."

But he couldn't say it and Philip bit his lip uncertainly.

Nick reached up and brushed the shorter hair back from his face, missing the longer strands that used to make their way into Philip's eyes, and whispered again.  "Tell me, Philip.  What do you want?"

The blush was back, brighter than ever, but this time the former priest managed to meet his eyes and give Nick what he wanted.  "You.  I want you . . . "

"You have me, Philip."  The smile turned into a light flush of his own as Nick admitted wryly, "You have for a long time."

"I -- I mean . . . "

But Nick shushed him, a finger to his lips.  "I know."

A half smile drifted down at him as he admitted, "That's good, because I don' know what I mean."

To his surprise, Nick nodded thoughtfully.  "I came here to talk.  About what's been goin' on."  At Philip's attention, he admitted, "I'm sorry for hasslin' yah about the cops.  I shouldn't have done that, you were right."

Blue-gray eyes closed and Philip took a deep breath, letting it out again.  "Thank you.  That means a lot, Nick."

"I know."  Not wanting to get too serious just yet, that said and over with, Nick let the humor creep back into his voice.  "But, now, I didn't expect this . . . "

"Y' mean y' didn' come here t' seduce me?" Philip shifted back a little in horror, grin keeping the joke in the words.  "What is the world comin' to?"

"Oh, sure, if I thought I could get away with it," he agreed readily.

"I think tha' c'n be arranged . . . "  Suiting actions to words, Philip slowly lowered his head, lips almost there to touch, their breaths already mingling . . .

Just as Nick's cellphone rang.

Growling and glaring at the badly timed interruption, the security chief wiggled around to reach his back pocket since it was clear that Philip had no intention of helping seeing as it meant moving off of Nick's body.  Grunting and straining, Nick tolerated the smirk until he bucked up suddenly and got a gasp from Philip as their hips connected, spreading a new pulse of arousal through their bodies.

"Serves you right . . . "  he whispered snickering as he hit the button.  "Hello?"

Philip waited as Nick sat up, now that he could, using the opportunity to feast all he wanted on the sight of Nick's body in profile.  Months worth of stolen peeks and nocturnal imaginings hadn't even come close.

"You got it.  Yah, he's here.  The barn.  Trouble?" The SEAL smirked over at him.  "No trouble, just pitching hay.  You got it, boss man."  With that, he disconnected, getting to his feet and offering a hand up.  "That was Derek; meeting in twenty minutes."

"What seems t' be the problem?" Accepting the hand, Philip followed him up, disappointed that their moment seemed to be over.

"Not sure.  Somethin' about London Sloan's needing some help."

"May I come with you?"

"I was kinda counting on it."  The low, seductive tone made no mistake that it wasn't the meeting Nick was referring to.  Add to that, the fact that Philip couldn't see his eyes, the grin was so wide, and the young priest rolled his own.  "Yer hopeless."

"Hopeful."  Came the automatic correction.  

Shaking his head, Philip distracted himself by running his fingers through his hair, trying without much success to dislodge most of the hay their roughhousing had produced.  Nick wasn't in any better shape, but his hair was shorter.

Moving in close, the younger man placed a hand on each shoulder, holding him still before reaching up to pluck several stubborn pieces that Philip had missed.  Closing his eyes, he had to remember to breathe while the SEAL was so close.  He could feel the extra heat burning into him, sense the stillness as Nick regarded his handy work.  See, when he opened his eyes, the change in expression as those eyes began caressing him on their own.

Damn Derek and that meeting anyway!

Nick must have seen the thought because he was smiling that smug grin that always managed to do evil things to his heart and stomach, not to mention the simple act of breathing.  Leaning up and in closer, Nick brushed his lips; a light kiss, meant to savor, to promise.  "Later.  This isn't over yet."

"Tease."

But the head of security only lit up, mischievously.  "Nah."  Hands and fingers trailing down the softness of worn cotton, Nick surprised him with a possessive hand ghosting over the crotch of his jeans, stroking once before delivering a demonstrative squeeze.  "That's teasing!"

The only sounds heard were that of feet clattering at breakneck speed down the loft ladder, threatening curses hurled towards the man in the lead . . .

. . . and laughter that sang on the wind, chasing away the shadows in the bright midday sunlight.

the end

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