Road to Rome

He dared not rekindle the fire.The poor wild goose was still stuffed in the cloth bag, cold, stiff and covered with damp feathers.The temperature dropped to the lowest in the early morning. In order to keep warm, the two hugged each other, huddled under two pine trees growing close to each other, folded off the branches with dense needles, and covered them layer by layer to block the wind.Marco was up all night and was pretty sure Antonio was awake too.When dawn was approaching, the priest fell asleep briefly, and soon woke up from some kind of nightmare, holding Marco tightly, breathing quickly and shallowly.Marco put his lips to his ear, comforted him in a low voice, and patted his back lightly.But the opponent quickly broke free, and by the way kicked the pine branch aside.

"Come on," said Antonio, his voice hoarse.

"Where to go?"

"Ask for help."

"What? Where? Whose help?"

"Which way is the road?"

"Over there, it's about a 15-minute walk. Antonio, who will help us? Where do you want to go?"

no answer.Antonio buried his head in the direction of the road, arched his back, just like the second time Marco met him at the pier, silent and full of guard, every scale was closed to the outside world.He strode after Antonio, one hand on the wound in his side, trying to ease the dull pain that was becoming evident.

The road is deserted, a gray cement line, sewn into the woods, destroying the natural texture of the wilderness.The two walked along the side of the road, towards the slowly brightening horizon.It took about 10 minutes to see the first car, coming from the opposite direction, speeding past, headlights tearing through the gray morning fog, probably not even noticing them.It wasn't until after dawn that a truck arrived, the engine roaring like thunder, and Antonio turned sideways, signaling for a ride, and the truck slowed down for a moment, then changed its mind for some reason, and rumbled past, leaving them behind. A foul-smelling diesel exhaust.

The second truck was friendlier than the previous one, and the driver quickly pulled over to the side of the road, opened the door of the passenger's seat, and motioned for the two to enter.Antonio sat between Marco and the driver, chatting with the latter along the way, claiming that the two were separated from their hunting friends and were forced to spend the night in the woods, and now they must hurry to the nearest town to meet their friends .

"Is it hunting season?" the truck driver questioned.

"Oh, I don't know, I was dragged here by force." Antonio smiled shyly, and Marco couldn't help turning his head to stare at him, surprised at his ability to fabricate lies.The gloom of the earlier period is now completely gone, or rather hidden, and the priest plays the cheerful tourist: "I'm from far away, I'm from California... In fact, this is my first Not a great first trip to the East Coast, to be honest. But when I get home, at least I have good wilderness stories to tell.”

"A unique wine table story!" From the driver's laughter, it can be heard that he smokes a lot. "My name is Carl, by the way."

"I'm Andrew." The priest said happily, and glanced at Marco. "This is my friend Nick."

"How are you, Nick?"

"Great. Thanks for letting us in, man," Marco replied listlessly.

"Happy to help."

The woods flew by outside the car window, and a road sign appeared on a small dirt slope, pointing to a town Marco had never heard of.The road forks in front of a maple grove and the driver takes the exit on the right.Soon, the trees and wasteland on both sides of the road were replaced by houses, restaurants popped up, and then a variety of shops, and people who walked their dogs early and walked their dogs watched the trucks pass by with expressionless faces.Marco turned his head to look at the unopened newsstand, and squinted his eyes to identify what was written on the front page of the newspaper, but the speed of the car was too fast, and the old newspaper was crumpled, so he couldn't read it clearly.

"That's our hotel," Antonio said, still in that fake jolly tone, pointing out to the driver a motel with a giant neon sign on top of it, "Great, I think we'll just get off here Oh my gosh, I need coffee so badly right now."

"Don't get lost again," the driver quipped, pulling in front of a restaurant that advertised "delicious muffins, hot coffee, sandwiches of all kinds."

"We don't know how to thank you, Carl."

The driver raised his hand, indicating that it was unnecessary, and restarted the engine.Antonio walked slowly in the direction of the motel, keeping an eye on the truck until he was sure it had disappeared from view, then turned and turned the other way.

"Mr. Costa."

"Every time you call me that, I feel like I'm in trouble."

"I may need to ask you to carry out a minor theft."

"How 'tiny' is it?"

"The gas station in front, steal a map, whatever you want."

Tiny indeed, Marco thought.Especially at such an early hour, the employees of the small grocery store at the gas station were so sleepy that they couldn't keep their eyes open, and they didn't want to look at Marco at all.When he returned to Antonio, he not only held a rolled up map in his hand, but also stuffed fruit candy in his pocket, plus two large pieces of chocolate.The priest took the map, gave him a reproachful look, rejected the other stolen goods, and began to ponder the winding lines and color blocks on the map.

"Where are we going?"

Antonio turned sideways and showed him a small blank space on the map.

"There is nothing here."

"Yes, they paid specifically for the publisher to remove the markers from the map, lest reckless holidaymakers ask for an overnight stay. I guess we have another three or four 10 minutes to go, and there is a mountain road on the way. How is your wound ?”

"I'm fine. Who are 'they'?"

"You passed out in the woods shortly after you said 'it's all right' last time."

"At that time, I hadn't experienced your tender care." Marco replied, maybe the tone of sarcasm was too heavy, but he couldn't help it, "Are you really a priest? Could this be your exclusive performance as well? Right, 'Andrew'? Perhaps your true identity is a librarian with murderous tendencies."

"Don't act as if you've never lied, Mr. Costa."

"I may not be as good as you, Father."

Antonio glanced at him, expressionless, as if wearing some kind of non-adjustable carved wooden mask.The priest carefully folded up the map, put it in his pocket, and walked towards the stretches of uncultivated farmland to the east of the town.Marco took a bite of the chocolate and followed, carefully controlling the rhythm of his steps so as not to pull the wound.The pain was still there, but fairly mild, which he took to be a good sign.

The priest estimated the length of the journey with an error of about 10 to [-] minutes. The two finally walked for about an hour, lost their way for a while, and turned around the same wooden bridge twice before Antonio found the white gravel winding into the woods. Lane.At the end of the driveway was a row of gray stone buildings, the clock tower and chapel covered with ivy, so similar to Marco's former middle school that he even had a faint urge to run away.The bronze plate embedded in the door indicated that it was a monastery. The priest rang the doorbell and whispered something to the young monk who came to open the door. Two people go in.

"You also told me that the monastery is not a hotel," Marco whispered.The two followed the strange monk through the dark corridor. This place seemed to be composed of endless corridors and pillars. The branching points were different, but each locked door looked exactly the same.

"It's really not." Antonio replied in a low voice, "It's just that I didn't want... In short, I have some personal relationships, but—"

Antonio was interrupted, and the young monk stopped and motioned them into an office.Stepping into this room with wide windows from the dim corridor, Marco couldn't help squinting his eyes.The man with the Roman collar behind the desk went straight to Antonio, called him by his Christian name, took the priest into his arms, and kissed him on both cheeks.Antonio didn't return the salute, but he didn't break free from the other's embrace, and when he turned to Marco, he was smiling.

"Theo, this is Marco Costa, my... Church's short-term partner. Marco, this is Theodore Quinn, we graduated from the same class."

"Theodore" looks like the catechism teacher Marco hated most when he was a kid, with a face suitable for a TV commercial, paired with a hollow, yet especially old-age grin. "'Personal relationship', I can tell." Marco put on his best smile.Antonio glared at him, Marco pretended not to notice, took a step forward, and shook hands with Theodore.

"No offense, but you all look terrible. Friar Oliver will take you to the bathroom and then prepare lunch." Mr. "Personal Relations" said, smiling at Antonio. "Maybe we can find a few minutes to catch up? Back to Come here, okay?"

"See you later, Theo."

The young monk named Oliver insisted on taking away the "carry-on luggage". Marco handed over the canvas bag and told him not to open it. By the way, he gave the monk all the candy in his pocket.The hot water and fluffy towels were like miracles after so much time in a hunting lodge, even though the soap looked and felt like ore.Antonio stayed in the shower for an extra 10 minutes. Marco guessed that he wanted to wash away the cold memory of the creek in the woods, and told the priest this idea.Antonio laughed, pushed the door open, and came out, wearing nothing but drops of water and steaming mist.Marco handed him a clean towel and whistled. Antonio rolled his eyes, but the smile still didn't disappear.

Oliver prepared the same clothes for them, a nondescript black long-sleeved shirt and black trousers.Marco was uncomfortable with the collar turned up and buttoned down to the throat, but Antonio was the opposite, as if he had found his favorite second skin.

"So, this 'personal relationship'." Marco opened his mouth, and the syllables were drawn out.

The priest glanced at him: "Just a friend, end of story."

"You slept."

"No—you could say yes, or not really, depending on your point of view and your definition. Of course he suggested it, more than once, very tactfully, unlike you. But I've never liked . . . relationships. That's Why didn't I want to come here in the first place."

Marco reached out to help him straighten his collar, stood very close, smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles on the shirt, and slid his palms across Antonio's chest and abdomen: "Fortunately, I'm just a 'short-term partner' of the church."

"Yes." The priest replied in a low voice, and the horse could feel his gradually quickening breathing, "Temporary, no long-term responsibility, fortunately."

There was a brief pause, as if both were waiting for the stage curtain to rise, some kind of light signal.Marco turned his head tentatively, kissed Antonio's lips, and confirmed that the other party did not intend to refuse, then pushed him back, pressed him against the wall, and squeezed his knee between the priest's legs.Panting, Antonio spread his legs and rubbed against Marco's thigh through his trousers.

"I don't want to break our 'chalet agreement,' Father." Marco teased, unbuttoning his trousers and holding their erections in his hands.

Antonio raised his head and smiled at the ceiling, Marco couldn't help leaning over to lick his neck, the skin was warm and smelled of soap.

"We're not in the cabin either, Mr. Costa, and I don't think we've broken our promises."

"It's good to know you're flexible."

The priest's hand touched Marco's, and together he looked for the angle that could trigger the most happiness.Marco clenched his palms and leaned forward, imagining entering the other person's body, imagining the sweaty naked skin rubbing against each other.The priest closed his eyes and moaned. Marco took a shaky breath and kissed Antonio again, feeling the cum dripping on their intertwined fingers.

A faucet that doesn't turn on tightly is dripping with a constant blah, blah, blah.

"Lunch," Antonio said hoarsely, turning away from the kiss.Marco held his wrist, unwilling to break the kiss, and bit his lip hard. Antonio gasped, protested in a low voice, and stepped on Marco's foot, both of them couldn't help laughing.Suddenly there was a terrified cry from somewhere in the corridor, and something fell to the ground.They were so scared that they separated immediately and poked their heads outside the bathroom.

"Poor Brother Oliver found our prey yesterday," Marco shook his head, "I told him not to open the bag."

Antonio laughed harder, picked up the used towel and threw it on Marco's head.

-

Lunch is simple, but if wild geese are five times better than canned tomatoes, fresh bread, ham and cheese are 35 times better.Antonio disappeared after the meal, probably going to Theodore's office.Brother Oliver appeared at the door like a ghost, stopped Marco who was about to sniff around, and stubbornly took him to "rest".Marco asked about the canvas bag, and the young monk's ears turned red, and he muttered incoherently that "it's been taken care of" and that "it will be returned as soon as it's cleaned."

Gone are the monastery's heydays.Marco estimates that the dormitory area can accommodate at least 200 people. Now there are only about eleven or twelve rooms inhabited. Each bedroom has two single beds. For some reason, the entire corridor smells like washing powder.Just as Oliver closed the door, Marco had already jumped out the window, wandered around the garden and the cemetery further away, peeked at the kitchen and chapel by the way, felt extremely bored, and went back to the bedroom to sleep.

Antonio still did not appear in the evening, nor did he come to the restaurant.This time Marco was invited to eat in the kitchen, where he sat with the gardener and the cook. "Avoid disturbing other monks." Oliver explained, "It's not against you, Mr. Costa, it's just that we don't want to have too much contact with outsiders."

I also don't want to have too much contact with you.Marco didn't say that, and poured an extra spoonful of gravy over his portion of mashed potatoes.

Antonio didn't come back after lights out.Marco stared at the other empty bed, wondering if Mr. "Personal Relations" had directly arranged Antonio elsewhere.Just when he was determined to sneak out to look for it, the door suddenly opened, almost slapping his face.Antonio came in and raised his eyebrows when he saw Marco with the coat in his hand.

"Where are you going, Mr. Costa?"

"No need to go now."

"Sorry, it took a while on the phone. Theo put me in touch with Father Clement, do you know this guy? He's Bishop Brennan's personal assistant. Apparently, they all thought I was dead, but this slightly Later. Marco, I have news about your father."