“Like last night.”
Rob sat against the back of the bed. Bastian crawled into his arms and curled up. He was so hard; his foreskin pulled back some to show his pink head. Rob dribbled lube on his cock, oddly like an anointing, and began jerking him the way he’d seen Bastian do it: up and over his head. Bastian cuddled into him. “You don’t have to go all the way up every single time. You can change it up.” Rob began carefully jacking him, up by his head like he’d seen Bastian do. Bastian gasped and bucked. That was it. Rob teased him there, stroked and played while he slid his hand up and down, up and down on Bastian. He tensed in Rob’s arms, then froze; his hips arched up and he came, spraying it up his chest. Rob kept stroking him and pressing until Bastian came down from it. Bastian yawned, got up, and went to the bathroom to clean up. He came right back to cuddle in Rob’s arms.
Bastian yawned again. “Thank you, Daddy. That felt good.” He cracked a grin. “You never played with an uncircumcised one before, have you?”
Rob actually reddened.
Bastian kissed him on the cheek. “You’ll figure it out, Daddy-O.”
“Do you hurt?”
Bastian shrugged. “A little sore. It happens. It’ll go away.”
Rob trapped him back between his legs, in his arms. Bastian went still and calm again. He hummed with contentment. “Feels safe.” He rested his head on Rob’s shoulder.
Rob did not feel safe. The ground had dropped from underneath him. For the first day in over five years, he had not offered Mass. The boy in his arms called him Daddy, not Father. He was a lover, not a student. Rob had broken his vows of chastity, broken them irrevocably and rather spectacularly. Rob had become one of those priests, the priests people read about in the papers, the ones who defile innocent children under their care.
Bastian was not a child. Bastian was eighteen. Bastian had chosen this. Begged for it, in fact. He had told Rob what to do and how to do it.
Rob had not believed in any of it for years. He had wanted to. He had grasped toward it, but it had always eluded him, had disappeared like smoke in the air, the way the smell of incense lingers until it’s suddenly gone. He could chant the words, dance through the gestures, but they had become nothing long ago. In so many ways, he was as lonely and as lost as Bastian.
Bastian: Bastian was a solid thing in his arms, a need he could fill, a reason to care.
Why bother unless someone cares?
Tell me what you want. Someone to care about.
Yes. This boy. This boy right here, solid and real, no metaphor or image of something he wasn’t. Bastian was nothing he had to doubt, nothing that asked him to believe: something Rob could hold in his own two hands. He had given himself to something once. He had made promises, and they had called him Father. But they had always told him: accept it. Believe this. You have to have faith. Now he could give himself to this instead, and there was nothing to accept or believe but this warmth in his arms, his — his — sleepy, limp boy cuddling into his arms, asking: take care of me? Let me care about you?
He kissed Bastian’s head. “It makes me happy when you call me Daddy.”
“I’m glad you said yes.” Bastian spoke from somewhere around his chest. “I didn’t think you would.”
“Say yes to what?”
“To being my daddy. I was so sure you wouldn’t do it. That’s why I just laughed at you.”
“No, baby.” Rob rested his lips on Bastian’s head and said the words. “I’m your daddy, and you’re my boy, and I’m going to take care of you now.”
He felt Bastian smile against him. “Thank you, Daddy. I wanted it so much you wouldn’t believe it.” He nuzzled Rob a little. It stunned Rob with gratitude and utterly baffled him. But he’d take the gift he was given.
Rob held Bastian that way, curled against him, as he finally fell asleep. And still he held him, in the dark and quiet of that empty house, tempter, lover, fairy-child. His boy. His Bastian.
II
A Gray Mist
Chapter 4
The grate slid to the side. Bastian grinned into the dark.
“Bless me Father for I have sinned, it’s been, oh, I don’t know, probably far too long since my last Confession, and these are my —”
“Bastian! Get the fuck out of my Confessional!”
“I missed you, Daddy-O!” Bastian made his voice wounded and sad. “Anyway, these are my sins. I’ve disobeyed my Daddy, I touched my —”
“Bastian!” Rob’s hiss got a little more insistent. “I am ordering you to keep silent right now. How many times do I have to tell you to stay the fuck out of my Confessional?”
“Every time you have Confession.” This was the best game.
“So you know exactly what’s going to happen to you tonight.”
“Imma get spanked. And someone’s hard.”
“Goddammit, Bastian! That’s one more. Two more.”
“I didn’t say if it was you or me! Well, it is me. Maybe it’s you. I can’t tell from here.” He paused. “Are you?”
“Four more. You’re gonna have trouble sitting down, boy.”
Bastian sighed. Rob had asked him if kids came to Confession because they felt like they had to come, or if they wanted to.
“Um, we have to go?” Bastian had looked at him like, duh. Stupidest question ever. Like someone would go to Confession if they didn’t have to, other than him, and he wasn’t going for real.
Rob had knitted his brows. “Why?”
“Because if we don’t go we’ll get yelled at or we’ll go to hell.”
He’d sighed. “I was afraid of that.”
Since there wasn’t anything he could do about it — Rob had told him he hated the unburdening of secrets, something Bastian could only imagine, stunning in its banality but so heavy in practice, with the occasional horror he could do nothing, absolutely nothing about — Bastian showed up and tormented him. Even if it pissed him off, at least Rob wasn’t sitting there miserable. Bastian pushed all that aside for him right now. Now he had to act as wickedly as he could imagine and take everyone’s mind off the real world.
“Father, there’s this man I like? I touch myself when I think about him. I pull my cock out and —”
“You don’t know when to stop, do you, you little slut? And you’d better not be touching that without my permission.”
“Sometimes I do.” Bastian decided to make this Confession much more interesting.
“Do you?” Rob’s voice turned low and dangerous. “When does my boy touch himself without permission?”
“Just sometimes. When I feel like it. It’s mine. I can play with it all I want.” Let him sit on that.
“You absolutely cannot. Whom does that cock belong to?”
Trust Rob to use absolutely perfect grammar. “You, Daddy,” Bastian sang. “It’s yours and I’m not allowed to touch it unless you say I can.”
“Apologize.”
“I’m sorry for saying it’s mine, Daddy.”
“You know what your penance’ll be. Get out and don’t come in here again.” He slammed the grate shut.
Bastian sauntered out and grinned at the next kid in line. “Dude, he’s in a mood. I just got like, two decades of the Rosary.” The kid’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Bastian smirked and walked out.
But outside the chapel, the sadness dropped down again. Bastian carefully kept up the same twisted grin, the same untucked shirt, the same half-shouldered backpack carry. He eyed up some girls and got eyed up in return. Daddy had ordered to stay the hell away from girls.
“Daddy!” Fucking girls was fun; they smelled different, like flowers and candy, and their bodies pressed soft against him. He needed Daddy to hold him down but girls — girls Bastian toyed with, played with, laughed with. Plus tits. He could suck tits all day.
“I like keeping all of that for me.”
“But Dad-dy. You like girls sometimes too. You said so.”
“No.”
Days like these he misse
d having friends the most. At St. Albert’s he’d had Lucky Jasper and Topher Woodrow, and even if Bastian couldn’t spill his life story to them, he could show up at their lockers, and they could joke around, maybe go to Lucky’s after school and play pinball or basketball or something. Bastian had made the football team at St. Albert’s, an easy camaraderie, even if he wasn’t in with the whole crowd. He had Quinn Rutledge; Bastian could count on him to be funny and snarky, and Quinn’s cousin Delia always made Bastian laugh. Their best friend Isabel Sims always noticed if Bastian was sad, and unlike the rest of the damn world, Isa would say something. She’d touch his hand, or write him a note, or even sit with him, not talking. She never asked why, and Bastian thanked her for that once.
Isa had shrugged. “If you wanted to tell me why, you’d tell me. But you don’t want to and that’s okay.”
That’s why he’d lost his virginity with her. She understood. Three and a half years at St. Alberts, and he’d only ever told Isa about Brendan. They never went out or anything; she wanted to lose it and he wanted to lose it, so they laughed and said they ought to do it together. Then one day, they went back to his house and did, giggling and laughing. Bastian had lit a cigarette afterwards, because it seemed right, and she’d tried to have one too and coughed and they’d howled when she burnt a hole in his sheet.
God, he missed Isa. He always wanted to call her, but it would seem desperate and stupid and she wouldn’t want to talk to him anyway.
They weren’t much, but they were some friends, at least, along with Crispin Hendricks, who was nice to everyone. Bastian could sit on the wall with Lucky and share smokes; Isa would run by and steal his hat.
But it was April. April is the cruelest month, “The Waste Land” began. Brendan dove into the pool on April 17th and never came out again. Bastian had missed the rest of the school year. He never said goodbye to Audie, though he glimpsed him at the funeral. Bastian hadn’t said hello, because he was a twelve-year-old boy and what the fuck do you say? Sometimes he wanted to look up Audie, but what kind of loser calls his best friend from middle school after so long? Last year was hard: five years. This year was harder: six years, half of Brendan’s life. Tomorrow he would put Brendan’s dog Taz and his own dog Angel in the car, drive up to the cemetery in Charleston, and sit with a German Shepherd on each side. On the way home, he’d find some liquor, get roaring drunk, then skip the next day, too. Bastian never told anyone about it. He kept it as his own.
Rob could complicate him disappearing for two days. Fuck it.
Bastian spent the rest of the school day staring out the window.
At home, he let the dogs out and brought Ziggy out of her enclosure. They were always glad to see him. The cats twined around his ankles. He picked up Miss Priss, the calico. Rob didn’t bother to call. He just came in the back door.
“You brat.”
Bastian didn’t turn around. He hugged Miss Priss, who hissed and jumped down. Cats sucked. So he opened the door and called Angel. She barreled in. He plopped on the kitchen floor, and she sat in his lap. You could always trust a dog. Ziggy trundled over. Or a possum. You could trust a possum.
Bastian carefully made up his smirk before he turned. “What?”
“Don’t you dare come into my Confessional! It’s bad enough —”
“Takes your mind off it though, doesn’t it?” Bastian grinned. “Runs down the clock a little?”
“Maybe I want to hear it.”
“Then maybe you’re wallowing in Catholic guilt, Daddy-O, and you need to run away or get reprogrammed or something.” He scratched Angel, who grumbled a contented German Shepherd grumble.
“You need spanked for that display today. Get upstairs.”
Bastian rolled his eyes. He’d expected this. “I did it to take your mind off how miserable you were in there, not to be a bratty slut. Mitigating circumstances.”
“Upstairs.”
“You get so sad when you have to hear confessions! I had to do something!”
“Upstairs, now. You were disrespectful and disobedient and slutty.” His voice had dropped into not-quite-dom territory.
“I don’t think this is very fair at all.” Bastian bitched but he had started to harden.
“You knew your penance was coming. You’re going to mock Confession, you’re going to act like you confessed and serve your penance. Drop everything. I want you over my lap.”
Oh, the worst torture. Rob would stiffen against Bastian’s stomach. But he did as his daddy asked. When Rob sat on his bed, Bastian laid across his legs. Rob stroked his ass. “Now you tell me again exactly what you’re sorry for, brat.” He was already hard on Bastian. Bastard.
“I’m sorry I disobeyed you and went to confession, Daddy. I’m sorry I made a mockery of it and tempted you when I was in there. I’m sorry I teased you and was a bad, slutty boy.”
“Mmm-hmm. And how many do you get for that?”
“Four for disobeying, four for disrespect, and four for acting like a slut. Plus you mentioned more in there but I don’t remember how many and neither do you, so they don’t count.” At least he hoped Daddy didn’t remember, because he was already getting twelve and twelve was bad enough.
“That’s a lot.” Daddy’s cock rubbed against his belly and Bastian’s own rubbed on Daddy’s thighs. “I won’t do them all in the same place. Count them.” He held down Bastian’s upper back and spanked him hard, alternating sides, stiffening more as he did, stiffening Bastian as every slap hurt, but went straight to his dick.
“Stand up.”
Bastian stood, still in his uniform button-down and nothing else. He unbuttoned it. His cock jutted out from beneath, his foreskin pulled back and his slit dripping. Rob smirked. “Baby slut. You love being spanked.”
Bastian loved when Daddy talked like that. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like a bitch.”
“What do you have to say for yourself?”
“I’m sorry for going into your Confessional, even though I was trying to cheer you up, and I’ll never do any of the other stuff again ever.”
“Liar. You have an unfortunate habit of lying, too.”
Bastian wanted fucked. When the gray mist dropped down, there was Daddy, wonderful and cuddly, Daddy who cared and wanted him. Bastian could totally submit to Daddy, get cuddled and fucked and played with. “Daddy, I was such a little liar today.” He stretched out on the bed — even though lying on his back hurts his ass — and rested his hand on his abs, hard from all the running. He stroked his stomach a little. “I lied during Confession, Daddy.”
“What did you lie about?” Daddy stared as Bastian’s hand moved down.
Bastian’s thumb reached the top of his shaft. “I don’t touch my cock without asking. Except right now. I didn’t ask. But you don’t mind.” He ran his thumb up and down himself. “You like to look. You like best when I play like this, don’t you?” He slowly slid his foreskin up over his head and back down so Daddy could see his head, shiny-pink and getting pinker with arousal. “You have a thing for my uncut cock, Daddy-O. Want me to teach you how to suck it?”
“Daddies don’t suck bad boy’s cocks.”
“I can sit on you and ride you while you pin me against the wall.” The worse things he said, the more fun it was. “Or you could just pin me there and fuck me hard. What if I curled up and you held me down and fucked me? You think your slutty little boy has a tight ass for you, Daddy? I need you to finger-fuck me.”
“You’ve got a mouth on you today, sprite.” Daddy almost sounded admiring. His pants tented out.
“You should leave your clothes on while you fuck me.”
“What, my fucking Roman collar? Are you kidding me? No way.”
“I always wanted you to fuck me in your collar while I called you Father. Can I suck your cock on my knees, Father, while I play with myself?” Bastian blinked at him innocently. So fucking dirty. Bastian wanted it so bad right now. He wanted it wicked, the more wicked the better. “Call me names, Daddy.
Then you can cuddle me after.” Uh-huh. That wouldn’t happen. Bastian would think of something equally dirty.
“You really wanna play that game?” Daddy sighed. “I don’t like calling you names, Bastian baby.”
Bastian nodded eagerly. “Please, daddy? Because you do like it. You just pretend not to.”
He totally did like it. Daddy got so hard when he did it. He just didn’t want to like it.
“Knees on the ground.” Daddy took his cock out, rock-hard. That didn’t take much convincing. “I want this sucked while you play with yourself. If you’re going to say slutty things, you can damn well act like one for me. Do not get off, do you understand me?”
“Yes, Father.” Bastian gazed up at those black clothes and that white collar. He gently took Daddy in his mouth. Bastian was good at sucking cock because he loved doing it. Bastian loved wrapping his lips around Daddy’s head and sucking hard; he loved working up and down Daddy’s shaft with tight lips. He loved licking him all over. But most of all he loved taking his whole cock in and burying his nose in his curls, working Daddy’s base with his lips while he breathed that delicious, musky smell that always, always made him harder.
“Lick under my head.” Daddy always ordered him around when he sucked him. “Slide back slow and lick it. That’s it. Now suck hard. No, harder, brat. Take it all in now. The whole thing. Can you take my whole cock, bratty little boy?” Bastian burrowed his nose into Daddy’s curls and inhaled sharply. He jacked himself harder. “That’s it. Look at that pink head. That’s how I know what a slutty boy you are, I can see that bright pink head peeking out. Take it, brat. I’m going to come in your mouth. You going to swallow it for me? Oh God —” Daddy shuddered, thrust, then pumped down Bastian’s throat. Bastian swallowed and suckled it all out.
“Did I do it right, Father?” Bastian made his eyes wide. He lived for these games.
“You did it perfect, sweet boy. What can I do for you, sprite?”
“There are toys in the left drawer.” Bastian had never told Daddy that. He’d also never told Daddy what kind. Daddy opened it and sucked in a breath. “Someone wants to keep playing, don’t they?”
For I Have Sinned: Bastian and Rob 1 (Southern Sin) Page 7
