“When did I say we could discuss it, Bastian?”
“Later, Father.”
“Then we’ll discuss it later.”
He didn’t want Bastian calling him ‘Daddy’ yet. It was so big.
Rob bought Bastian coffee. He was going to mix it for him when Bastian informed him he took it black, thanks. Rob looked him up and down. “You smoke Marlboro Reds, too?”
“No, Parliament Lights.”
“Car. Now.”
“Yes, Father.” Bastian trotted out to the parking lot in his enormous hoodie. Rob popped the locks from inside the gas station. When he got back in the car, he looked square at Bastian.
“I catch you smoking, you’re grabbing your ankles again.”
“Aw, Father.”
“You think I’m fucking with you, let me catch you with a cigarette in your mouth and see what happens.”
Bastian pouted out his lower lip and didn’t reply. Rob flicked his eyes down. Rock-hard in his goddamn warm-up pants. And he was supposed to drive four hours in the car with this kid.
Bastian didn’t speak for a long time. He watched the cars on the interstate and drank his coffee. Rob waited to see what he’d do, what he’d say. “So someone did some research last night, did they?” Rob heard the smirk in Bastian’s voice.
He made a noncommittal sound.
“Someone decide they have a daddy kink after all? Or did they decide it was worth playing along so they’d get to fuck me? Because I can tell the difference. Don’t think I can’t.”
“No one said a word about fucking you.”
“Mmm, okay. Sure, Daddy-O. I asked a question, somewhere in there, in case you weren’t paying attention.”
“You asked if I had a real daddy kink.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You want to know if I want to play daddy with you, or if I’m faking it so I can fuck you later and then walk off.”
“That’s a weird way to say it, but sure, we can go with that.”
This high school senior had asked him if he wanted an actual relationship.
The most fucked-up part: Rob wanted an actual relationship.
Hearing it still floored him.
“How about you tell me what you want for once, without smirking?” Rob glanced at him. Bastian still stared out the window.
“I want a daddy.”
“Give me an idea of what you think that means, and I’ll tell you what I think it means.”
“Doms just get off on power. Daddy’s not about power. Daddy’s about taking care of someone else. But in a regular relationship both people are in charge? Instead, Daddy’s in charge and daddy takes care of his boy. God, how not-gay are you?” Bastian still didn’t look at him.
“That sounds about right.”
“But most daddies get off on being in charge. And most boys get off on not being in charge.”
“So lots of fucking with plenty of cuddling and discipline?”
“I know I’m bad. I need lots of discipline.” Bastian said it very matter-of-factly. “But I can be good, sometimes, if someone asks me to. There’s just no reason to be. Why bother unless someone cares?”
Rob sneaked a glance at him. He seemed completely serious.
“I don’t think this is a good answer to some kind of existential crisis about your self-worth.” Rob had read Bastian‘s file.
“Oh my god, you think —“ Bastian started laughing. “Not like that, Christ. I don’t mean I think I’m worthless and I need some kind of validation or something. I mean self-discipline, you idiot. I fuck all the girls and I don’t pay attention and I drive my car too fast. I smoke cigarettes and drink and like my drugs. Name a vice, I’ve probably got it. I say ‘fuck’ too much and I’ll lay around all day and play video games, or smoke pot, or just jack off. Because it’s fun. Like today. I’ll swim. But I’m not gonna break myself. Why bother? It’s just a game.
“At St. Albert’s, I fucked this gorgeous girl, Isabel. Took her virginity. She was super fun. Then I got her best friend to suck me off. They didn’t really care, because hey, it’s Bastian McCarthy, he does what he wants. Then I taught the best friend’s cousin to suck dick. He was good at it, too. They were all like, complete besties. They didn’t care. It was like this huge joke, like, ‘Oh, Bastian.’ Just another game.”
Rob looked at him again. He still gazed out the window. “A daddy would give me a reason to behave and make sure I do it. With all the side benefits of having a daddy. Win-win.” Bastian twisted at his ring. “A daddy would care.”
“So you’re going all the way to Atlanta and you’re not going to try?!”
“I mean, I will, but eh if I don’t win.”
“Look at me.” Rob dropped his voice.
Bastian turned, his eyes widened.
“You are going to win those goddamned races, son. You’re better than that fucker from Macon. You’re going to win at least one of them. Understood?”
Bastian lowered his eyes. “Yes, Father.”
Gingerly, afraid Bastian wouldn’t like it, Rob crossed the distance between them and took his hand. Bastian started. He looked at their hands, then looked at Rob, searching his face for clues, as if he couldn’t trust it somehow.
“I’m not going to hurt you, sweet boy.” It surprised him: last night’s brazen boy had become so skittish this morning. “Can you trust me?”
“I don’t know yet. I don’t know if I trust that you wanna be my daddy or if you wanna get in my pants.” He cracked a grin. “Speedo. Whatever.”
“What could I do to convince you?”
Bastian clearly thought about it. “Take me out tonight and act like my daddy.”
“What? No! What kind of clothes do you think I brought?” Answer: black, black, and more black.
“Go buy some.”
“Fine.” He shouldn’t have said yes. But what the fuck. He wanted this. Afraid Bastian would flinch away, Rob rested his hand on that long, delicious thigh. Bastian leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes.
“You know, you’re not the devil’s child.”
Bastian snorted and still didn’t open his eyes.
“You’re too Irish. You were born on Samhain, not Halloween. That’s the easiest day for fairies to come into the world. Fairy boy, not Satan’s.”
“Calling me a fairy now, Father?”
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“That’s what you said. And you like fairy boys. You like little twinks, don’t you, Father?”
Rob smacked at his thigh lightly. “You’re being lewd. Apologize.”
“I’m sorry, Father.” Bastian sounded sincere, but when Rob glanced at him, his cock had risen under his warm-up pants. Oh fuck. What had he gotten himself into?
The state championships were held at Georgia Tech. Bastian was a distance swimmer, not a sprinter; so was the blond from Macon. Both specialized in freestyle and breast stroke. Neither had the teammates to back them up on relays, and each was the only representative from their school. The pool echoed horribly. Bastian changed into his school suit, a muted navy, wrapped in a towel, and found a spot in the stands with Rob. “That’s him.” Rob pointed at another spiky-haired kid, freckled from top to toe, sitting alone. He laughed. “He’s just as Irish as you.” The blond kid sat with his elbows on his knees, intently watching the races. After a while, he unearthed a book from his bag and began reading.
He didn’t appear to have a coach.
They called for the 1500 meter freestyle: fifteen lengths up, fifteen lengths back. Seven kids had entered, but everyone knew the race belonged to Bastian and this blond kid, Jackson Littleton. Rob watched intently, and for the first time, he saw Bastian really swim. He and this kid stayed neck-and-neck, breath-for-breath, flipping in unison, a perfect tandem until the very end, when Bastian pushed hard and edged him by a hair.
He did the same in the men’s 800 meter freestyle.
Rob was waiting at the edge of the pool with a towel and helped Bastian out
. He was breathing hard, clearly exhausted. So was the other kid, who scrambled out on his own. “Good races.” He barely got the words out.
“Yeah.” Bastian was equally breathless. “Thanks for pushing me.”
“See you tomorrow for breaststroke.” The kid sauntered off like Bastian. Peas in a pod.
Bastian had set a state record in the 1500 meter.
Rob drove an exhausted Bastian to the hotel, a nondescript, mid-range Atlanta room, bad art on the walls, no minibar. Bastian face-planted on the bed. Rob sat next to him and rubbed his back. “You did so good, Bastian. You swam your heart out.” He hesitated. “Baby boy.”
“I wanna die.” Bastian moaned. “I hurt all over.”
“So does he, and he didn’t even get to win.” Rob made his voice gentle. He still didn’t understand this. Why him? What had he done? How had he gotten this lucky? “Pull the sheets down. They don’t wash these comforters. Strip to whatever. I’ll rub you down. You need it, sweet boy.”
He heard the smirk in Bastian’s voice. “You gonna rub me down, Father?”
He slapped Bastian’s ass, open-palmed, but not hard. “Behave.”
Bastian immediately quieted. “Yes, Father. I’m sorry, Father.” He shed his warm-up pants, his black hoodie, and the T-shirt from some band Rob had never heard of. He stood awkwardly in a pair of white briefs. “I don’t like boxers — they bounce everything around. I know these aren’t — I mean —”
“Oh no, honey.” Rob stared. Oh God, Bastian was embarrassed, thinking he wasn’t attractive enough for him. Rob didn’t get it. “Those are fine. Those are totally fine. Lie down. Let me rub the knots out of your muscles. I’m your coach. It’s my job.”
Bastian laid on his stomach, perfect ass right there, ready for Rob’s hands to touch and grab. He didn’t let himself. He couldn’t let himself; looking at Bastian’s cock yesterday was bad enough. Instead, he sat next to Bastian, though it would be much easier to straddle him, and began work on his stiff muscles. Bastian moaned with pleasure, a sound that went straight to Rob’s cock. His hands moved lower. When he reached the bottom edge of Bastian’s back, where it met his ass, Bastian made a small sound and arched upwards.
Rob pretended it wasn’t happening. He had to.
A sweet little voice broke the silence. “Please, Father? I’ll be so good. I’ll be so sweet, I promise.”
Oh God. That voice: so innocent and wanton at the same time.
“I’ll try so hard to win my races tomorrow. I’ll try even harder than today, I promise. I’ll do it just for you.”
“You were a good boy today.” Rob had promised Bastian something. Promises were important, but this kid — this kid was willing to hand him everything. The precious gift Bastian held out almost choked him. Rob wanted it so much. He couldn’t take it. “You swam so hard and you were so well-behaved.”
Bastian seemed to perk up. “What happens what I’m good, Father?”
Rob swallowed hard. “What do you want to happen?”
Bastian sat up. He rolled his eyes. “That’s for you to decide, Daddy-O. Not me. God. Do you like, not get the principle? Am I gonna have to top from the bottom here?”
“Show some respect. We need to establish some ground rules.” If he was going to do this, he had to do it right. He owed it to Bastian.
“What? Like Daddy needs to decide if he wants to be a daddy?”
“No. Like Bastian quits the backtalk or he gets spanked. That’s number one. Daddies make their boys respectful. Two, Bastian acts like a little slut, he gets spanked. Daddies make sure their boys are sweet, not bratty. And I reserve the right to add to these rules at any time. Like number three, daddies make sure their boys listen to them. So Bastian listens to orders or —“
“Lemme guess. He gets spanked.” Bastian rolled his eyes. “Not very creative with the punishment, are we, Father?”
“Ankles. Now. Drop your briefs. That was disrespectful and you know it.”
This was murder, that gorgeous naked ass in front of him, perfectly muscled. Bastian spread his legs slightly. “Count to five.” Rob did it quickly but oh, those pretty red cheeks. He was careful; nothing would show above Bastian’s suit.
“So lemme guess,” Bastian stood. “Now I’ve been bad today and I get nothing. As usual.”
Something about that “as usual” didn’t sit right with Rob, but he let it pass for now. “Did you do your penance?”
“I suppose so.”
“Did you ask for forgiveness?”
“I’m sorry, Father.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“I’m sorry for the backtalk, Father.”
“Then you’re forgiven and it’s forgotten. That’s how it works. Don’t do it again.”
Bastian threw him that heart-melting, lopsided grin. “It’s like Confession, then.”
Rob smiled. “It’s the easiest framework, now isn’t it?”
Bastian said he was too tired to go out. Rob shouldn’t let him. He understood that much about being a good daddy. “We’ll have decent food delivered and watch a movie. Tell me what you want.” Rob ordered them sandwiches. They ate; Bastian talked to his mom for approximately two minutes — didn’t she care her son had set a state record? Bastian didn’t move to put on his clothes, and Rob didn’t suggest it. He walked around the room as if it were normal to wear only his briefs in front of Rob, that thin fabric far more revealing than a Speedo. Finally, Rob had to say something. This was too tempting.
“Put some goddamn clothes on, Bastian.”
“Why? I thought you wanted to look.”
Oh, Christ.
“I shouldn’t look.”
“You already spanked my ass. Twice. There’s no reason not to look. Sort of the point of no return there, isn’t it, Father?”
“You’re a student and I’m a teacher and this entire situation is utterly inappropriate.”
Bastian pouted his lip out. “So I got spanked for nothing?!”
Rob dropped his head in his hands and dug his fingers into his blond hair. “I want you. I can’t want you. I want this so much. I can’t want this at all. You know, I used to believe in something. I really did. Now it’s all this — this moral haze. You’re eighteen. You’re a child.”
Bastian snorted. “How old are you?”
“Thirty-three.”
“Well, isn’t that just symbolic. Your inner priest dies when you’re the same age as Christ on the cross. That ties things up in a nice little bow, doesn’t it?”
“Don’t make this worse than it needs to be, Bastian.”
“Well, it’s not like you’re double my age or something. Anyway, I know more about some things than you do.”
Rob shook his head. “Like what?”
“Like this.” Bastian crossed the room, moved Rob’s planted elbows from his knees, and situated himself on the bed between his legs, ohgod, one long thigh touching each of his, their cocks pressed together. “See?” Bastian said into his ear. “I know more about this, Father.”
“You think you do, because I’m trying desperately to control myself. Something you never seem to do.”
“Do you?” Bastian rocked his hips. His cock, hard under that thin fabric, nuzzled against Rob’s; their chests pressed together. “Do you really know more than me? You don’t seem like you do. You seem like a total virgin and I’ve had those.” He breathed hot into Rob’s ear. “They’re fun. You ever top? Do I get to coach you through it? Is that my reward for winning today, Father?”
Rob swept Bastian’s wrists up in one hand. “I know how to top, brat.” The dom voice crept back. “I know exactly how to top a pretty twink like you.”
“Well, fuck me blue.” Bastian’s eyes widened. Rob pinned his hands behind his back. “Maybe you do know how to top.”
“But you don’t get fucked. You have to earn it. You have to show me you can behave.”
“How? Tell me how and I’ll do it.” Bastian’s breathing had quickened; he stared at Rob and
made no move to struggle or get away.
“You like being held down.”
Bastian nodded as if hypnotized.
He’d seen submissives who went into these states when they were restrained: completely calm and relaxed, totally trusting. “So what did you mean, when you said you wouldn’t get what you wanted as usual?” He ventured to stroke Bastian’s cheek.
“I never get what I want.” Bastian’s voice had turned dreamy. “Nothing that matters. I’m only good for stupid things, like school and swimming.”
“What do you want?” Rob pitched his voice low and gentle. In for a penny, in for a pound. “Tell me what you want, honey.”
“Someone to care about more than that stuff. That stuff doesn’t mean anything anyway.”
“Then what does mean something?”
“Someone caring. Caring about someone. I don’t care about anyone. I want to.”
“Why don’t you?”
Bastian turned his big eyes on Rob. “They hurt you or go away or die.”
Rob wanted to brush away the short black spikes falling over Bastian’s forehead. “What do you mean? Can you explain it to me so I’ll understand?”
“I don’t wanna.” Bastian shook his head. “I don’t wanna answer any more questions, please, Father.”
“You don’t have to, honey. You’re being a good boy, Bastian.”
“Am I? Am I finally being good, Father?” His voice still sounded far away.
“Not finally. You slipped up, but you’ve been a good boy for me all day. I know what I want to see.” Rob took a deep breath. “I started to see you play with your cock the other day. I liked that a lot. Will you keep playing with it so I can see what you like?” Oh God Rob had gotten so hard watching Bastian’s hand playing over his stiff cock tucked up in that Speedo. “Then we can’t let a boy like you race if you haven’t gotten off enough. You’ll be distracted, won’t you?”
“Uh-huh Father.” Bastian blinked slowly.
“You need to get all that come out, don’t you?” It returned so quickly, the ability to talk like this, to think of these things. He’d shoved it away for so long and when he reached for it, he found it waiting as if he’d never left it. “How do you want to do that? I know you need to go more than once, honey.”
For I Have Sinned: Bastian and Rob 1 (Southern Sin) Page 3
