Bastian nodded.
“You naughty brat, your penance isn’t over.”
Bastian inwardly smirked. Daddy had found them.
“Boys who act so slutty dress like little sluts. They dress like girly little sluts.” Daddy tossed a pair of red silk panties at Bastian. “Put them on.”
“Yes, Father.” Bastian obediently pulled them over his cock. The silk whispered against it and hardened him more. That’s why he liked them so much: not the girl part, but the way they felt.
Daddy sat in Bastian’s loveseat and spread his legs. He made Bastian sit between them and held him tightly with one arm. “I’m going to rub you through them. I want you to ruin them, brat, like the slutty sissy boy you’ve been.” With the other hand, he began stroking over Bastian’s cock.
“Oh, Father, that feels so good.” Bastian moaned as the silk slipped over his foreskin, which slipped over his head. “Have I been a good boy or a bad boy?”
“You’ve been such a bad boy. You’ve been a helpless little slut. You loved sucking my dick, didn’t you? Didn’t you love when I came down your throat? You took it all.” Daddy jerked Bastian through the red silk and held him tightly. Bastian dripped. “Look at you, baby brat. Ruining these already. What a dirty, naughty boy. You like wearing these, don’t you? You going to come and ruin them? Come all over for me. I wanna see it.” He jacked Bastian harder, faster, up near his head. Bastian was going to lose it.
“Father, I’m going to come.” Bastian gasped.
“You better come. I need to see all that sticky come. Get it all out for me. Bad boy. Asking if I was hard in the Confessional today. Little tempter. Next time I swear to God your penance will be to jack off in there while I listen to you —”
Bastian came suddenly, spurting all over his cock, all over the red silk. Daddy smirked at him. “Didn’t know you liked those.”
Bastian shrugged. “They feel good when I jerk off in them. It’s not a cross-dressing thing.”
“Uh-huh. Sure.”
“Think whatever turns you on the most, Daddy-O.” Bastian padded into the bathroom to wash up. While he played with Daddy, everything dropped away. Bastian grinned and laughed and forgot. But now it had finished and the gray mist twisted around him again, a fog he could hardly see through. Maybe he could do again. But the gray obscured everything and muddled his thoughts. The mist brought showed nothing but his brother’s face.
“You alright, sweet boy? Was that a mistake? Did I go too far?” Rob had taken off his clericals and put on regular clothes.
“No, no, it was fun.” Bastian had to say something. “What d’you wanna do for dinner?”
“My turn to pay.”
“No, you paid last night. Daddy, my mom leaves me enough to buy dinner every night. It’s the fucking least she can do since she took a goddamn job in Atlanta.”
“Don’t make me start again on how fucked up that is.”
Bastian shrugged. He didn’t want to discuss that, either.
Rob narrowed his eyes at Bastian, looked him up and down. “You aren’t alright.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“Okay, fine. I don’t feel great. I’ve got a migraine coming.” Easy-peasy. Get Rob out of here so he could do his thing tomorrow in peace.
“Oh no, poor baby. Let me take care of you. Go get in bed, sprite.”
Oh fuck. So he was going to play that way. Rob bustled around for Advil and a cool cloth for Bastian’s head. He turned off all the lights but the salt lamp. “Can I get you something to eat, baby? Do you want me to rub your head or leave you alone?”
“Stay, Daddy. Cuddle me.” Bastian usually didn’t want touched during a migraine but what the fuck the ever. He wanted daddy cuddles and love. Bastian needed someone to care. Daddy cared. Daddy always cared. Bastian didn’t want Daddy to know how much he needed him to care.
Daddy rested most of his weight on Bastian and held him. Bastian tried to see through the gray mist, to look through it to anything, anything else. It didn’t work. Instead the mist showed him nothing but Brendan, Brendan, Brendan: never being alone, always someone to talk to, always someone to joke with. They switched places so often that sometimes Bastian worried he was really born Brendan, and Bastian had died in the bottom of the pool. Pictures of them filled the house: two dark-haired, freckled boys with spiky wet hair, or slicked back like otters, spit-skinny, their arms thrown over each other’s shoulders, one or the other or both holding a medal. They traded wins like they traded clothes: Bastian then Brendan, Brendan then Bastian.
Their twin-talk had faded into nothingness.
Bastian had even kissed Brendan’s girlfriend, just to see what it was like. Brendan had told him to. “You’ve never kissed anyone,” he’d said. “You pretend to be me and take her to the movies and kiss her. If you do anything else though, I’ll kick your ass.”
Brendan was like that. Everything his was Bastian’s and everything Bastian’s was his. They shared all their clothes. Only Audie could tell them apart and he refused to say how. Typical Audie. He never got along as well with Brendan as he did with Bastian. “You think more about things,” he’d said once. “Brendan doesn’t think as hard.”
“He does too!”
“No, he doesn’t. You’ll drive yourself crazy about things if you’re not careful, Bastian. Brendan never would.” Audie could say things like this when they were eleven. “You’re quicker to punch than him, too.” They’d been sitting on the wall at Charleston Country Day, kicking their heels on the concrete while they waited for something in gym class.
“Probably, yeah. That’s because people need punched and Brendan’s too damn nice to realize it.”
“You don’t punch everyone who deserves it. You only punch someone if they hurt the people you care about.”
There wasn’t anyone left to punch anymore. You couldn’t punch an institution.
Chapter 5
Bastian woke in darkness at 4 am. Rob must have let the dogs out for him. Well, might as well go now. He dressed silently in clothes from the laundry room, left a note — Took Taz and Angel, back tonight, don’t worry, B — clipped leashes to the dogs, and snuck out. The drive took about two hours and change, with a stop for gas and coffee, another for fast food for him and the dogs. He drove around Charleston to the Ocean Grove Cemetery in Mount Pleasant, close to the beach he and Brendan loved. He found his brother’s grave by memory. It only had his name and dates on it. Bastian sunk to the ground, a dog on each side, and sat.
He didn’t talk to Brendan. Brendan wasn’t here. Brendan wasn’t anywhere. Why the fuck did he do this at all? Why did he visit his dead brother’s bones every year? He’d only come up with one answer: for a brief time, he and Brendan were the same person. He couldn’t deny his own personhood, even as a clump of cells. Maybe he came to mourn that part of himself that had snapped his neck in the pool that day. Or maybe he needed some sort of ritual to mark the time. He sat quietly with the dogs.
At noon, Bastian heard footsteps and didn’t turn. Someone had come to chase him out, probably because of the dogs. But a hand touched his shoulder and he startled hard.
“It took me a long time to find you.”
Daddy had come. Bastian looked flatly at him. Bastian almost broke down with relief. The two impulses tightened his throat. He couldn’t swallow.
“I knew you didn’t have a migraine last night. I knew something was wrong that you didn’t wanna talk about. So I thought and thought and thought. I finally remembered that a long time ago, you told me Brendan had died in the spring. So I did the math and looked up old obituaries. That took a while. I decided to take the risk that you’d actually come here, even though it didn’t seem like you. Then I had to figure out which cemetery, which also took a while, and finally where in the cemetery. You know, you could have told me.”
Bastian kept staring. He thought of all that work and he couldn’t stop his eyes from filling up because Daddy really did care.
Daddy really had worked hard to find him. Daddy knew him enough to find him and he came.
Daddy sat behind him. His arms wrapped tightly around Bastian, but Bastian pushed him off. “No. Stop it.”
“It helps you feel better.” Daddy’s eyebrows knit up; he tried to touch Bastian, and Bastian flinched away.
“I have to feel it.” Daddy didn’t get it and he wouldn’t. This would become an enormous exercise in futility.
“Oh, no, baby.”
“He was twelve and a half or so. There’ll be a day sometime soon, and thank God I won’t know it, or figure it out, I refuse to — but they’ll be a day in about three months where he’ll’ve been dead longer than he was alive. I won’t know it. But it’ll pass, it’ll happen whether I know it or not. Do you know how fucking awful that is?” Bastian scrunched himself up. The dogs moved closer to him.
“Baby boy. I’m so sorry.”
“Maybe it would help if I thought he was somewhere. But I know he’s not.”
Daddy kissed his head. “He’s in here.”
Bastian hated that shit. “Yeah, what a fucking burden. So I carry my dead brother around. And when it all slips away, so does he, you know? When I forget his voice or his girlfriend’s name or his favorite TV show or the way he laughed, another piece of him is gone forever. So fuck that noise. I’m not taking responsibility for that.”
“Am I my brother’s keeper?” Daddy kissed Bastian again.
“I didn’t fucking kill him.” Bastian’s voice broke. “He dove into the wrong end of the fucking pool. I could’ve warned him, yeah, but I didn’t see what he was doing. I was talking to some girls, okay?” Bastian scrunched tighter.
“No, little one, it’s not your fault.” Daddy tried to touch him again. Daddy kept trying to touch him, like it would fix something, make something better. Bastian backed up a step.
Bastian gripped the ring on his finger. He’d never told anyone. “I should’ve been paying attention.” He almost choked.
“That was not your job. You were twelve.”
“That was always my job. He was my brother.” He stood up. So did the dogs. “We can go now, I guess. You’re here. You found me.” He wanted to say: Thank you Daddy, you came, oh my God you came and got me.
“Bastian.”
He looked at Daddy.
“This was not your fault.”
He just kept looking. He wouldn’t answer him. He wouldn’t.
“It wasn’t.”
“There is not a thing you could ever say to make me think otherwise. So don’t waste your breath.” He held the dogs’ leashes tight. They would always love him, even if he did the worst thing. You could trust a dog that way. People not so much. People gave you what you deserved.
“Oh, baby boy. I’m just so sorry.”
“Don’t waste it. Look, can we go? I don’t need a witness for this.”
Daddy ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah. Yeah, sure baby. Do you wanna go walk on the beach before we leave? The chances of someone recognizing me —”
“Yeah.” Bastian didn’t look at him. “Yeah, fine.”
They drove a short way to the beach access. Bastian walked the dogs, both in one hand. He’d trained them himself and they knew how to heel. He and Daddy dropped their shoes at the edge of the sand. Daddy’s soft hand laced into his; Bastian had never really held hands with anyone. Did you swing them or keep them still? What if he had to scratch his nose — he couldn’t drop the dogs’ leashes. They walked on the edge of the surf and let the waves lap their feet. April in Charleston: both wore shorts.
“Do you feel better, sprite? Does it help to come here?”
Bastian shook his head. What the fuck did he think?
“That’s okay. You’re allowed not to be okay on days like this.”
They stayed quiet. A big wave caught Bastian up to his knees, wetting his shorts, and he laughed in spite of himself. Daddy caught him up and held him close. Bastian let himself mold against him. He breathed and let himself be held. He wanted to throw his heart on the ground and stomp on it — Brendan was dead, and he was letting Daddy cuddle him. Then it turned somehow, pivoted, and Bastian was turning into Daddy, burying his face into him, closing his eyes and clinging to him. Daddy didn’t let him go for a long, long time. Finally, Bastian took a deep, shuddering breath.
Daddy pulled back a little. “Let’s go home, sprite.”
Bastian blared music the whole way, but he didn’t sing along.
Back at Bastian’s, he got Ziggy Stardust out and hugged her. Rob sat down at the kitchen table. “What d’you wanna do tonight?”
Bastian shrugged.
“Pizza?”
“Not hungry.”
“Good boys eat.”
“Then spank me.” Bastian looked up at him. That’s what he wanted — no, needed. Something fun. Something really fun. He deserved some fun after today. Today was awful and he needed it, plus it would prove to Daddy that he was okay, even if he wasn’t. “Daddy?”
“What?” He sounded tired.
“You never told me what kind of stuff you did in college. You’ve just said you did dom stuff. But what did you do?”
Daddy sighed. “All kinds of things, Bastian. Is this really the night you wanna hear about them? I thought we could —”
“No, I wanna know. Come upstairs and tell me, Daddy.” Bastian set Ziggy down and plastered on his best wicked grin. “Or it could be like Confession, only in reverse. I wanna sit on your lap while you tell me about it. Tell me about all the bad things you did.”
“BDSM isn’t bad, Bastian.”
“Then come tell me why, Daddy.”
“Can’t we just sit at the table and talk?”
“No. I had a bad day, and I want to sit in your lap.” No fucking shame. None. He wanted out of his own goddamn head and this would take him there. The mist would disappear.
Daddy sighed and climbed the stairs, muttering that he wasn’t hungry anyway. Bastian brought Ziggy up and shut the door behind them. Daddy sat against the headboard of Bastian’s bed, clearly thinking to cuddle him, but Bastian arranged himself between Daddy’s legs, facing him, thighs bent on top of Daddy’s and Bastian’s hard cock against his soft one.
“You’re being naughty.”
“Tell me, Daddy.” Bastian played with the buttons on Daddy’s shirt.
Daddy sighed and leaned back on his palms. “Let’s see. I was really into shibari, which is a kind of Japanese rope-binding. I would tie my subs up and leave them there while they watched me fuck other people. Sometimes I’d start to get them off and stop, then do it over and over, just to torment them. I’d fuck them tied up sometimes.
“I liked to have subs on leashes. We’d throw parties — I’d dress them the way I wanted, put them on a leash and take them with me. They weren’t allowed to speak unless I allowed it. We’d sometimes trade back and forth, if the subs were okay with it. My sub — my boyfriend Jack — he usually was. We had an open relationship. Really, really open. We were in love, but it was a pretty loose thing, I guess.
“Let’s see. We’d role-play. I liked playing doctor a lot.”
Bastian wiggled on him. Daddy was completely hard now. “How do you play doctor, Daddy?”
Daddy shrugged. “You can play however you want. I used to be the doctor, and Jack would be the patient, and I’d have to examine him. He liked it because he knew he’d get off. I liked the power trip.”
“But how did you examine him?”
“I’d touch him all over, take his temperature rectally, and then play with his cock. I’d pretend he jerked off too much and lecture him about it, then we’d use all kinds of toys. I might use a vibrator to give him a prostate massage or even put nipple clamps on him. Stuff like that. I’d put his cock cage on for medical reasons.” Daddy had gotten so goddamn hard. Christ. He really missed this stuff.
“Cock cage?” Bastian had sort of an idea but he wanted Daddy to say it. It sounded so hot and so awful at the same time.
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Daddy shrugged. “He had a special device that fit over his cock and stopped him from playing with it or getting hard. It locked. I kept the key.”
Bastian hardened more.
“Oh, did you like that idea?” Dammit. He fucking noticed. “Do you think you need one of those? You can wear them pretty much all the time, you know, sprite. No touching. No getting hard. How would you like that, if I had the key to it?”
Bastian shook his head vigorously. No. Fucking. Way.
“If you keep being a little slut.” Daddy whispered right in his ear, “I’ll get you one and make you wear it all the goddamn time. You wanna sit through physics knowing I’ve got that key in my pocket?”
Bastian made himself smirk. “I don’t think you want everyone in school to see your hard-on, Daddy-O.”
Daddy bit his neck and Bastian shivered. “I can control myself. And you’d learn very quickly. Or rather, you wouldn’t have to learn at all.”
“If I was your sub, what would you make me do, Daddy?”
Daddy kissed his ear. “Whatever I wanted to, sweet boy.” And oh God but was that hot. He straightened up. “But you’re not. You’re my boy, not my sub, and I don’t want you to be a sub. It’s different. I don’t want to trade you back and forth or make you watch me or torment you or get off on your helplessness. I want to cuddle you, baby.” He nuzzled Bastian and that was much less fun than the whatever I want part. Right now, Bastian really liked whatever I want.
Bastian played with the buttons on his shirt. “What d’you want me to do now, Daddy? I’ll be a good boy however you want me to. I wanna do whatever you want.”
Daddy sighed. “Baby, you need taken care of. You need cuddled and loved on.”
“Dad-dy. I want you to tie me up and play with me.”
“I don’t play with you the way I’d play with a sub, Bastian. You aren’t a sub and I won’t treat you like one. You’re my boy. Don’t you understand the difference? I take care of you and help you be a good boy. I don’t get off on making you helpless or watching you beg.”
For I Have Sinned: Bastian and Rob 1 (Southern Sin) Page 8
