Rob didn’t look up, eyes fixed on what he hoped Bastian thought was the desk. “Damn right I would. And off the record, as a friend and not a priest, I hope you wrap it up.”
Bastian snorted. “I’m not an idiot. Can we get back to planning this meet instead of discussing my sex life, and possibly yours?”
“Excuse me?!”
“You heard me, Daddy-O.” He grinned, the lopsided one that made Rob melt.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t.”
****
Thirty seconds. Again.
****
A hundred little moments, death by a thousand cuts. Bastian holding his hand out: “Help me out of pool, Padre! I swear you swam me so hard Imma collapse!” And Rob taking his hand, helping him up and out. Bastian,with that perfect ass, dripping water, turning, yelling, “Hey, can you toss me that towel?”
Bastian blinking up at him, water on those enormous lashes, asking, “Do we need to plan a meet today?” And when Rob said yes, Bastian curling into a ball in the leather chair, head resting against its back, knees drawn up, towel wrapped around him, eyes closed. “‘M tired and cold.” Rob had thrown him an extra towel. A goose-bumped arm slipped out from under Bastian’s towel and grabbed the one Rob tossed. Bastian’s eyes widened. “Thank you. Thanks, Father.”
Rob would glance up to find Bastian already looking at him. Bastian’s eyes would always drop, that submissive little move Rob had always loved.
When he got in the pool with the kids, Bastian didn’t seem to look. But Rob caught him at odd moments. He would blush, actually blush, and turn away.
Bad enough to want him. Worse to want it reciprocated. The very worst to know that, for some strange reason, it probably was.
****
Bastian broke him, finally, the day before the state finals. He was slated to swim against some hotshot kid from Macon, a blond who’d broken records left and right. That afternoon, as usual, Rob had to hear student confessions, and he slid open the grate.
“Bless me father for I have sinned, it’s been forever since my last confession and these are my sins.” The familiar voice rambled through the first few words as if they were meaningless memorization.
Oh fuck. But Rob couldn’t chase Bastian out or cause a scene or tell him to leave. He might believe it, for once. Or he might be fucking around.
Bastian rattled through a list of sins, Commandment by Commandment, and how he’d broken them all, including sex with multiple girls. Last of all, “I’ve had lots of same-sex desires but I haven’t acted on them. Because… well… there’s this one guy I like. I like him a whole lot. And I shouldn’t like him and I don’t know what to do, Father.”
“Pray. Stop liking him. You know those desires are intrinsically disordered and contrary to natural law.” He clung to the old words of the Catechism. They’d taught him well. Even if he didn’t believe it, he could mouth the responses.
“But what if they aren’t?”
“Are you here to confess or argue theology?”
“Confess.”
“Then get on with it.”
“So I torment this guy intentionally just to get — just to bait him, I guess? But I can’t stop thinking about him. I like girls okay, Father. But I like guys so much better. I get myself off thinking about this guy every night. I can’t get him out of my head. I don’t know where to start.”
“Start praying.”
“I’ve tried. It doesn’t work.”
Rob finally cracked. “You don’t believe any of this, Bastian. Get the hell out of my Confessional.”
“I believe it today and you’re in no place to say what I do or don’t believe so do your goddamn job, Father. And I’m not finished.”
“So you’re confessing to intentionally lustful, disordered thoughts, about a man —”
“Never said it was a man instead of another kid, but yeah.”
Fuck. “And this man, you’re confessing to intentionally tormenting him. Plus masturbation.”
“Yes. And I keep pushing him to see if I can get him to admit he wants me.” Bastian paused. “I think he does. I really, really think he does.”
The air in the small confessional became too close, too stifled; his stole too hot around his neck. “Are you finished now?”
“Yes.”
“Get down on your knees and beg for mercy, you unmitigated brat. Two rosaries to the Virgin Mary asking for chastity,” the harshest penance he’d ever given — Rob, like everyone else, was a “Two Hail Marys and tell-Jesus-you-love-Him” type. “And never come to me for Confession again.” He mumbled through the words of absolution and traced the Sign of the Cross in the air.
“Now get out.”
The Confessional door opened, then shut. Rob peeked through his own grate. Bastian McCarthy walked out of the chapel without kneeling at the altar to pray.
****
Rob grabbed Bastian’s shoulder and marched him, in his Speedo, to the pool office. He’d psyched himself up with some shots of the whiskey he kept in the back of his desk.
He slammed the door behind them and locked it — he didn’t want anyone walking in on this particular conversation. Rob stared straight into Bastian’s dark eyes. “Don’t you pull that shit again.”
“What d’you mean, Daddy-O?” Bastian’s brows knotted.
“You know exactly what I mean, you sacrilegious brat.”
“Oh, that. You’re not allowed to talk about that.” Bastian smirked. “Seal of Confession.”
“That doesn’t apply between priest and the confessed.”
“You can’t bring up past sins. They’re forgiven and they don’t exist anymore.” Bastian grinned. That same grin. It infuriated Rob this time.
Rob gritted his teeth. “You don’t believe that and neither do I.”
“A doubting priest? This gets better and better!”
“Drop it. You know what you said, I know what you said, we both know exactly whom you were talking about. I don’t know if you were serious or fucking with me.” He took a deep breath. He couldn’t fucking believe he was about to ask this. “When’s your birthday?”
“I’m a Halloween baby. Devil’s brat.”
It was February. Bastian had turned legal months ago.
“You want it?” It was out before Rob could stop it.
“Huh?”
“I asked if you wanted it.”
“You offering?” His pretty, pretty mouth twisted.
“Behave yourself. Act sweet for me.” His cock rose. Bastian could probably see and he didn’t give a fuck. “No baiting. No tempting. Learn to behave. And after you graduate, we’ll see.”
“And what does that ‘we’ll see’ mean?” Bastian’s voice went soft.
“I’m leaving the priesthood.”
“Where are you going afterwards?”
“Athens. For an actual teaching degree.”
“Weird. I got a full scholarship to UGA.”
And didn’t Rob know it.
“So I behave. I’m a good boy for you. And after I graduate…”
“After you graduate.”
Bastian sprawled in that leather chair again, legs spread, hard in that Speedo, cock stiff and big. Rob wanted to palm him, oh Christ and all the angels he wanted to palm him and make it stiffer.
“Did you just proposition me, Father?” Bastian’s eyes crinkled like he was suppressing the biggest grin he could manage.
Rob narrowed his own. “And who the hell is going to believe you?”
“Mmm, I don’t know.” Bastian tossed Rob that lopsided grin. “They’re ready to believe all sorts of things about priests these days, Daddy-O.” He rested his hand on those washboard abs. “You know I’m legal.”
“That’s not got a damn thing to do with it.” Still standing, Rob towered over Bastian. Bastian’s hand wandered just a bit lower. Oh, Christ. “I was your fucking teacher and now I’m your coach.”
“You’re only my coach until tomorrow afternoon.”
&
nbsp; “You’re a lewd brat.” Rob finally lost it. “Do you know what they used to do to kids like you in my Catholic school? They’d make you bend over and grab your ankles.”
“Did they?” He swore Bastian got harder. “Did they do that to you, Father?”
“Beside the goddamn point.” He tried a dovetail, the last refuge of the desperate. “Let’s talk about the race tomorrow.”
Bastian yawned. “Boring. Let’s talk about something more fun. Why exactly did you have to bend over and grab your ankles? Did they make your drop your pants first? What about your underwear?” His hand wandered a little lower.
“Why the hell do you care?”
“Maybe I have a thing.”
“Maybe it’s inappropriate in this context.”
“Maybe I don’t give a flying fuck.”
“Watch your language. I’m a priest. Show some respect.”
Bastian smirked. “A priest who doesn’t believe in anything.”
“Get out.”
“No. That white collar’s choking you, Daddy-O.” His hand stroked the edge of his Speedo now, last three fingers moving in slow circles.
“You just keep pushing, don’t you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Bastian paused and pulled the towel tighter around himself. “Cold in here. But you already knew I was cold, didn’t you? Caught you looking at my chest.”
“No wonder you got kicked out of St. Albert’s.”
“I got kicked out of St. Albert’s because I got caught. And I got caught because my goddamn daddy decided it would be fun to get his rocks off after he spanked me for not paying attention in class. His fault. Not mine. Bastard.”
“Back it the hell up. What do you mean, your daddy spanked you?”
Bastian laughed in his face. “Father’s never heard of daddy kink? Okay.” Bastian smiled. “What, exactly, d’you wanna do to me? Pretend it’s Confession. Swear I won’t tell.”
Maybe it was something about Bastian’s eyes. Maybe it was Bastian’s hand wandering lower, almost cupping his hard cock. Maybe it was the whiskey Rob had drank, straight from the bottle, before dragging Bastian into the office. But for some reason, Rob believed him. “What do I want to do to you right now? I want you to lean over, grab your ankles, and drop that Speedo. Then I want to spank your ass red for acting like a slutty brat all year.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Bastian actually thumbed the base of his shaft. Rob stared. “Then what?”
“I want to fuck you pinned over that desk while you beg.”
“You want me to pull my Speedo back on and walk outta here after that?”
Rob shook his head. Bastian stroked his cock now, head and shaft clearly defined, his back arched up to it. “Then what? Then what d’you wanna do to me, if you don’t want me to walk out?”
“Ideally, we wouldn’t be here.” Rob couldn’t look away. He was tenting out his own pants and didn’t give a fuck. He desperately wanted to wrap his hand around his own cock; he fumbled over his words and his own face reddened. “Ideally, we’d be somewhere else. In bed. And I’d cuddle with you.” He paused, as if this was somehow the worst part, the barest and most revealing. “I’d want to hold you and kiss you. I’d want you to want it, too.”
“Would you tell me what a good boy I was?” Bastian spoke softly, almost begging. “I bet you’d tell me I was such a sweet little boy for you and so well-behaved. I bet you’d tell me all sorts of things. And I’d be so good for you. I’d be such a little angel you wouldn’t believe it. I wouldn’t tease or misbehave and I’d do whatever you asked. I’d stop touching my cock. But you don’t really want me to stop, do you?”
Rob reached down, down, way back to college. He found that part of himself, the one he’d repressed for so goddamn long. He’s swallowed everything they’d asked: Jesus Savior meek and mild, the meek shall inherit the earth, only the least of you shall enter the kingdom of heaven — all of it. He’d repressed that other part of himself, had shoved it down. Before that, he’d loved topping other men. Once he discerned his vocation, Rob had given it up. But he found that lost corner, and everything roared out of him as if it had never left. “Bend over and grab your ankles.” Rob growled in his dom voice, squaring himself up to his full six foot one, so much bigger than Bastian’s, what, five foot ten? So much bulkier, all his hard muscle from lifting rather than swimming.
Bastian looked up at Rob without raising his chin. He stopped stroking his cock and dropped his eyes, then stood and wrapped his hands around his slim ankles.
“You’ve been acting like a little slut.”
“Yes, Father.”
“You made a fake Confession. I should blister your ass for that. Then you sat in that chair and rubbed your cock. But I’m going to be nice to you today. I’m only going to use my hand. And I’m only going to do it ten times. So count them, brat. And drop that fucking Speedo. I want your ass to turn the same goddamn color.”
“Yes, Father.” That small scrap of Lycra hit the floor and oh, his perfect ass, pale and smooth, muscled, legs spread slightly so Rob could see a sliver of his balls. “Count them,” he ordered, and hit Bastian McCarthy’s bare ass with an open palm.
“One.” Bastian didn’t teeter.
Oh God, Rob shouldn’t be doing this. But Bastian fucking deserved it. So what if Rob got off on it?
Open palm, perfect aim, that other pale little cheek — “Two.” Bastian wobbled a little.
Rob alternated, one cheek, then the other, aiming for the same spot each time. When he finished, Bastian had two clear handprints on his ass. “Stand up and face me,” Rob said: always the best part.
Bastian turned, cheeks flaming. His cock stood stiff and dripping — and was he cut? Rob couldn’t quite tell, hard as he was. But Bastian was waxed perfectly smooth everywhere.
Rob’s dick throbbed painfully. His self-control broke, a fragile, shattering thing.
“I want your knees to hit the fucking ground, do you hear me? I heard rumors you suck cock. Are they true? Tell me the truth.” Those lowered eyes said Bastian wouldn’t lie when he used this voice.
“They’re true, Father.”
Thank God no one could hear them. “I’m going to tell you exactly how to suck it, and you’re going to —”
Suddenly Bastian stood. Rob blinked at him, his words forgotten.
“This is boring.” Bastian pulled his Speedo up. “I don’t want a fucking dom. You’re just playing dom/sub games with me. I don’t do that. There’s no point to it. I want a daddy. You wanna be my daddy, lemme know. Then you can turn my ass red for misbehaving all you want. But if you just wanna slap someone around and make them suck your dick after, find someone else. Not my thing, sorry, Father. No hard feelings. I won’t tell, don’t worry.”
He wrapped up in his towel.
“See you in the pool.” Bastian unlocked the door and walked out.
Chapter 2
Rob locked the door again, jerked off, cleaned up, and went back out to coach.
That fucking brat.
Why him? Why did Bastian pick him? He could have picked anyone. Why pick some random priest, someone like him? He was okay-looking — Rob stayed in shape; he lifted, he swam with the kids. Guys used to say he was cute, back when that mattered, big blue eyes and a snub nose: he was just as Irish as Bastian. But he wasn’t special. He wasn’t especially funny. He wasn’t especially popular with the kids or something; he didn’t have a talent or a magic touch or some kind of charisma. But Bastian had picked him, for some strange reason, first to hang out in his classroom, and now for this.
But it didn’t stop him from some internet research. He liked what he found. He really, really liked what he found.
Bastian’s mother was off on business in some other state, and dear old dad had skipped Savannah long ago, so they’d planned Rob would drive Bastian to the state finals in Atlanta. Our Lady of Grace wasn’t sending any more kids, just Bastian. Just the two of them. Fuck everything. Rob found Bastian sitt
ing by himself on the front steps of the school at 5 am. Wrapped in a giant black hoodie, alone with his swim bag, he huddled down like a poor, frigid thing.
Yeah, this daddy thing sounded exactly like what he was craving.
Fuck it. He wanted it. Bastian sure as fuck wanted it. Bastian was legal. And after that display in the pool office, Rob decided he wasn’t abusing some kind of power over the kid.
But he was about the become that kind of priest.
Rob took a deep breath and threw open the car door. “Get in here, boy!”
Bastian perked up and clattered down the steps, enormous bag in hand, which he tossed in the backseat before he hopped in. Rob didn’t move. “Seatbelt.” He used a firm, not-quite dom voice. Bastian threw him a surprised look and clicked it shut. “Now, you looked cold —” he hesitated a beat “— sweet boy. You want to stop for some coffee?”
Bastian’s dark eyes widened. “Yeah. Yeah, can we really?”
“If you promise to be good today.”
He glanced over. Bastian had narrowed his eyes. “What’s that mean?”
“Don’t be slutty, keep your mouth under control, and act like a nice young gentleman. Don’t talk about your cock, don’t touch your cock, and I will blister your ass if you try to touch mine. Understand?” This list seemed to cover just about everything. Rob gentled his voice. “If you’re good, I’ll make sure you’re a very happy boy. Do you understand, Bastian?”
“Yes. Uh-huh. I understand.” He practically bounced in his seat. Rob never seen him so — God, ebullient. “What should I call you?”
“I’m accustomed to ‘Father.’”
“But you and I don’t believe in any of that.” Bastian searched his face.
“We don’t, do we? But doesn’t it make a lovely cover?”
“Yes, Father.” Bastian cracked a grin. “I suppose it does.”
“We can discuss other forms of address later.”
Bastian fiddled with a plain silver band on his right pinkie. “I like ‘Daddy.’”
For I Have Sinned: Bastian and Rob 1 (Southern Sin) Page 2
