My beloved is mine and I am his.
- Song of Solomon
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A/N: Carlisle and Edward explore passion, love, and boundaries.
Please be advised that this story may be offensive to certain readers. Kindly discontinue reading should exploration of human sexual nature within the context of the church be at all objectionable to you. (Seriously.)
Contains Carlisle/Edward slash. AH. Rated NC-17. This story was originally written for the CarlWard contest.
Thanks to my pre-readers, Missyfits and ArcadianMaggie, and beta, TwilightMundi, for their help. And thanks to Melooza1 for a plot bunny that she allowed me to twist and spin and live with and abuse until "Forgive us our sins" was born.
All copyrights, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without express authorization.
I shut my office door softly and wandered through the darkened church, checking that doors were locked tightly for the night. My last stop was the sanctuary, only dimly lit now that the choir had finished practicing and had gone nearly an hour ago.
Breathing in deeply, I moved quietly through empty space, enjoying the cloying scent of incense that inevitably lingered and the look of the ornate stained glass, hues muted for lack of light.
Edward, the love of my life, would be meeting me in front of the church in—I checked my watch—about 10 minutes. That meant I had a few moments to relax and enjoy the deserted space. Perfectly calm. Peaceful.
Taking such time for quiet reflection would be even more necessary after I became fully ordained, lest I forget the reason for my work. I'd started my career as a physician, but within a few years of finishing medical school I realized there was so much that I hadn't a prayer of healing with a scalpel and stethoscope. After returning to graduate school to study divinity, I was now completing the final steps necessary to become an Episcopalian priest.
My footsteps on the stone floor echoed as I walked to the center aisle. Crossing myself in the customary fashion, I offered a quick prayer of thanks and sat down in a nearby pew. Trying to ignore the pulpit that only served to remind me of work I hadn't yet finished for an upcoming service, I instead focused on the cross hanging heavily above the altar.
Closing my eyes, I settled into the silence, suddenly a bit tired and more than a little grateful that Edward and I would soon be on our way home. He was in his final year of his own degree and his thesis was keeping him busy. I hoped his evening in the theology school library had been successful.
I wondered if I could convince him to make it an early night. It had been a long day and I could stand to be wrapped up in his arms for awhile. I smiled to myself as I remembered the feel of his embrace.
