Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8350183.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Band_of_Brothers
  Relationship:
      Ronald_Speirs/Kenyon_Webster, Babe_Heffron/Ronald_Speirs, Ronald_Speirs/
      Nate_Fick, Eugene_Roe/Ronald_Speirs
  Character:
      Ronald_Speirs, Nate_Fick, Babe_Heffron, Eugene_Roe, Kenyon_Webster
  Additional Tags:
      Priests, Choirboys, Daddy_Kink, daddy!Speirs, Rare_Pairings, Extremely
      Underage, ok_let's_be_real, Pedophilia, Penitence, Catholic_Church_-
      Freeform, Spanking, Coercion, Dubious_Consent, Abuse_of_Power, etc_-
      Freeform
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-10-22 Words: 2685
****** Father Speirs and the Abuse of Power ******
by rum4life
Summary
     Speirs touches him once, by accident. His own fingers feel too rough
     against the silk of Nate’s wrist, like they’ll catch on it- leave a
     mark. He does it again, hypnotized by the feel of it, by the pink of
     Nate’s blush, the dark red of his lower lip.
Notes
     born of a series of frantic skype conversations with geonarism months
     ago.
      
     don't ask.
It’s the smoothness of Nathaniel Fick’s skin that starts it all.
The smoothness of his skin, and the way that brown hair curls against the
smooth, pale neck. How quickly Nate blushes, two bright hot spots of deep pink
on those soft cheeks.
Speirs touches him once, by accident. His own fingers feel too rough against
the silk of Nate’s wrist, like they’ll catch on it- leave a mark. He does it
again, hypnotized by the feel of it, by the pink of Nate’s blush, the dark red
of his lower lip.
His cock goes rock hard in his cassock in seconds.
**
The next time Speirs touches Nate, they are alone, and he lets fingers linger.
They follow the curve of a cheek stained with red and he marvels at the
contrast of color and texture, cock so hard he can’t think straight.
“F…Father Speirs?” whispers Nate. His eyes are wide, and Speirs can see a
distorted image of himself reflected in them, a dark smudge against clear
green.
“Yes, son?” replies Speirs, distracted, and moves his hand up to stroke gently
through Nate’s soft hair.
“I…” Nate shudders when Speirs scrapes his fingernails against Nate’s scalp.
“Father, that feels good.”
Speir’s cock pulses and his fingers clench momentarily in reaction, drawing a
small gasp from Nate’s lips.
“You like that?” he asks Nate. He makes sure to keep his voice low, not wanting
to startle him. Speirs doesn’t quite know what he wants to do, where this is
leading, just knows he wants to hear Nate make that sound again. “You like to
feel good, Nate?”
“Yes,” whispers Nate, and when Speirs tugs at his hair, Nate’s eyes flutter
closed and he moistens his lower lip with the tip of his tongue.
Trying to regulate his breathing, Speirs walks around his desk and sits in his
chair. He can’t remember if he’s locked his study, doesn’t give a shit, just
motions for Nate to come to him, and the boy obediently follows.
“Come, sit.”
Speirs spreads his legs a little, and Nate only hesitates for a moment, looking
startled, before he turns and lowers himself carefully onto Speirs’ lap.
Fuck.
Speirs bites back a groan, head flinging back for a second at the friction of
Nate’s ass against his cock. Nate wriggles a little, looking over his shoulder
expectantly, and if Speirs wasn’t grasping the edge of his desk like a lifeline
he’s sure he would drown in the depth of those wide green eyes.
“What is it, Father?” Nate asks. He moves again, and Speirs shoots up a hand to
still him, careful that his grip isn’t too rough against Nate’s hip.
“I want to show you something,” Speirs tells him. Nate is still looking back at
him, eyes bright, brow slightly furrowed in confusion. When Speirs reaches
around to rub the heel of his hand against Nate’s crotch, that beautiful gasp
escapes Nate’s mouth again.
Then he continues to gasp, again, and again, like music breathed hot and damp
against Speirs’ cheek, as he reaches under the boy’s robes to touch him, skin
to skin, coaxing him to hardness, reveling in the innocence of the sounds.
“That feel good?” Speirs whispers against the smooth stretch of Nate’s neck,
fingers smearing pre-cum along the Nate’s length as those sounds, those fucking
sounds, spill out of that cherry-red mouth, over and over and over. “You like
that, don’t you. God, let me show you how good you’re gonna feel, Nate. Let
me—”
He finishes even before Nate does, grinding against the soft ass on his lap,
and muffles his groan against Nate’s spine.
**
“You have to be quiet,” Speirs tells David Webster, and leans back in his
chair. “This is the House of God, and God likes little boys to stay quiet.”
“But why?” asks Webster. Dark lashes frame inquisitive blue eyes, and they
flutter as he blinks and frowns. “Why would God want that, Father? We should
raise our voices to Him-“
“Webster,” Speirs interrupts, shushing him. “David,” he adds, because the boy
is frowning even more. “Trust the word of your Father. Now come here.”
“Yes, Father,” says Webster, and kneels before Speirs’ chair, already reaching
to part his cassock.
His cock twitches with interest. “Good boy,” he says softly, gently directs
Webster’s head with one hand, the other hand pulling his cock out, tugging it
once, twice. “You know what to do?”
Webster nods solemnly, mouth hanging open slightly. His lips are plump and
moist, and Speirs gets fully hard in expectation. “Nate told me,” Webster says.
He sounds proud. “He told me I mustn’t bite.”
“That’s right,” Speirs encourages him, and squeezes his eyes shut as he sinks
the head of his cock into Webster’s hot mouth. Grunts, “That’s right, David.
Just like a popsicle.”
Webster sucks a little, tentatively, and Speirs can feel his tongue flick
hesitantly against the slit. It makes him jolt in his seat.
Webster pulls back, face pulled in a grimace. “It doesn’t taste good, Father.”
Dammit, just shut up.
“It’s a funny-tasting popsicle, Webster. Keep sucking.”
“Okay.”
It’s hard not to grasp the boy by the hair and thrust, fuck his sweet little
mouth until he hits the back of Webster’s throat, and Speirs probably has
gouges in his desk by now, he’s clenching it so hard. Webster makes whiny
little noises, lips stretched fully around his cock, and Speirs almost forgets
to pull out as he comes.
Webster touches a finger to the come on his lips and tongue, and makes a
disgusted face. He spits twice into the plant beside the desk. “Ugh, gross,” he
says, and wipes furiously at his mouth. “That tastes horrible, Father.”
Speirs is too drained to reply, but he makes sure to wipe the evidence off of
Webster’s mouth and sleeve before sending him away.
**
Gene Roe is quiet and confident. He doesn’t talk much – thank Christ, after
Webster, it’s like a breath of fresh air – and he sucks Speirs off with a
diligence that impresses him. He concentrates so hard every time that sometimes
he doesn’t hear Speirs’ warning before he comes, and Speirs has to forcibly
remove him.
Most of all, Gene likes to kiss, he finds. Sometimes Speirs lets him climb onto
his lap, face to face, and rub his erection against him as his tongue
cautiously licks into Speirs’ mouth.
Gene is all sharp elbows and bony knees, the creaking chair barely holding both
of them at the same time, but he groans deep and long when Speirs bites gently
down onto the skin of his neck, and Speirs likes that. He likes the way Gene’s
movements get frantic as he nears the edge, grasping the top of the chair and
panting into his mouth, rocking against him like he can’t stop.
He sobs prayers into Speirs’ collar when he comes, and it’s sweeter than any
Holy Mass he has ever heard.
**
“So, son. Tell me why you’re in here.”
The boy standing in front of his desk shuffles a foot uncertainly. He has a
bright shock of red hair, which looks like someone had tried to tame it and
failed miserably.
Edward Heffron is new- just came in last week. His parents are high profile
members of the congregation, big donors, and haven’t missed a service in 30
years. Edward isn’t the only son of the family who’s been a choirboy here,
apparently, although it was before Speirs’ time.
This is the first time he’s talked to Heffron, although he’s heard rumblings
among the nuns. Troublemaker. Backtalk, sass, fighting. It’s a surprise that he
hasn’t made it into Speirs’ study sooner.
“Go on,” he presses, when Heffron continues to look down at his shoes. “I don’t
bite.” Not hard enough to leave marks, anyway.
“Sistah Gloriana sent me,” he answers sullenly. “For scrappin’ with Billy.”
His heavy accent drags his vowels out in a curious way, a lot like Billy
Guarnere, one of the oldest choirboys.
“Why were you fighting him?”
When Heffron looks up, Speirs’ eyebrows rise in interest. He has a large shiner
around his left eye, purple and tender-looking.
“No reason.”
“Edward,” Speirs warns.
Heffron lifts his chin defiantly. Speirs notes the sharp edges of his jaw, and
the way the movement exposes his neck. It’s dirty, scratched up, like he’d been
rolling with Billy in the mud outside. It lends him a scruffy look, and he
looks less like a puppy dog, more like a growling stray. Feisty.
“I ain’t no snitch,” he says quickly. “An’ you can punish me all ya want, I
don’ care one goddamn bit.”
Well. Speirs could’ve ignored his behavior till now, but this is crossing the
line.
“While I would have let your actions with Billy slide, since you haven’t been
with us long,” says Speirs slowly, “taking our Heavenly Father’s name in vain
is a punishable offense. I trust you already know this by now, Heffron.”
Heffron’s mouth pulls down. “Yes, Father,” he says, makes it sound like a
challenge. His defiant gaze stirs Speirs’ blood, in a way he hasn’t experienced
with the others. His cock gives an interested twitch under his cassock.
Speirs sighs. “Come here and bend over my knee.”
Heffron looks startled, but quickly fixes his expression back to defiant, and
struts over to stand in front of him. With stiff movements, he drapes his body
over Speirs’ legs, hands clenched tightly into fists.
The weight of him, the feel of his tight young body so close, helps what little
blood is still left in his body to flow swiftly to his cock. Son of a bitch. He
hadn’t had time to ease Heffron into his little group of willing choirboys, no
time to watch him and see if he even wanted him.
But he knows now that wants him. Oh, he wants him. But it’s too soon.
His heart rate speeds up as he slowly pulls Heffron’s robe up, exposing his
pale, freckled legs, and then pulls his briefs down to display the sweet curve
of his ass.
Fuck. Fuck. I can’t do this. Too soon.
Speirs steels himself, and then smacks Heffron’s ass. Hard.
Heffron’s breath hitches on a groan.
Smack. “This is for your own good.” Smack. “Thou shalt not take the name of the
Lord thy God in vain.” Smack. “For the Lord will not hold him,” Smack. “-
guiltless that taketh His name in vain.”
Heffron’s ass is bright red, warming under his palm. Every strike echoes around
the silent study, the only other sound that of Speirs’ low murmurs and
Heffron’s grunts of pain.
Then, after another smack, Speirs hears a restrained sob. A rush of electric
arousal runs through him at the sound, sweet and sharp. He rests his hand on
the hot skin of Heffron’s ass, willing his voice to come out normally.
“Are you ready to repent, son?”
Heffron looks up at him. All signs of defiance are gone from his face, and his
brown eyes are filled with tears, red-orange lashes wet and dripping. He
sniffs. “Yes, D-Daddy. I-I mean, Father Speirs.”
A thrill of arousal shoots through Speirs again, so quick and so intense that
he almost comes, right then and there.
“Good. The Lord values a humble and contrite spirit, Edward,” he whispers, hand
tracing soothing circles of Heffron’s ass.
Heffron sniffs and wipes at his face. He lies there, motionless, Speirs’ hands
still soothing the red marks on that beautiful expanse of pale skin.
“Only the nuns call me Edward, Father,” Heffron mumbles.
“What do you want me to call you, then?”
“Babe, Da-Father. Call me Babe.”
Speirs considers it. He wants to hear Heffron call him Daddy again. No, he
needs it.
“All right. Babe.”
He feels the twitch of Babe’s cock moving against his leg.
Oh.
“Babe,” he tries again. Babe shifts, and yes- he is definitely hardening
against Speirs’ cassock, against the muscle of his thigh.
Interesting.
Speirs moves a finger up to trace the small indentations above Babe’s ass, then
trails down the cleft of it, touch light enough that he can see the hair
standing on Babe’s arm. He moves his finger up, then down, dipping in and out
of the valley between.
Babe’s cock is hard, now.
“Babe,” he says, trying to stay calm. He dips his finger again, and Babe’s ass
muscles clench, pushing his erection against Speirs. His sobs have turned into
small moans. “Would you like me to help you along your path of repentance?”
Babe looks up at him, lip trembling, and gasps, “Yes, Daddy… I mean, Father.”
Jesus fucking Joseph and Mary.
He is so, so fucked.
**
Barely a week has passed, but already Babe has been in to see Speirs for
punishment five times. Once for mouthing off to a nun, once for language.
Picking fights, desecrating school property, slipping naughty words into hymns.
Troublemaker, whisper the nuns, shaking their heads. How do you solve a problem
like Edward Heffron?
He’s beginning to think that the boy is doing it on purpose.
Today, Babe is in for scrawling bad words on one of the choir stalls. For his
penitence Speirs has Babe bent over his desk, robe pulled up to bare his
beautiful ass, and his cock is sliding slickly between the tight globes. One
hand he has beneath Babe, stroking him slowly, drawing it out as much as he
can.
“Daddy,” Heffron moans into the desk, making Speirs’ hips stutter. “I- I feel
like I’m gonna explode.”
“Do it, Babe. Fucking come for me. Come for Daddy.”
Babe cries out, a high whine of pleasure, and his body shudders under Speirs’
as he spills hot over his fist. The sight of him so undone, the feeling of
Babe’s ass cheeks clenching around his cock- it’s too much, and Speirs is so
close he can hear his own blood rushing in his ears. He pulls away with effort,
reaching for a towel.
Babe whimpers softly, glancing back, and before Speirs can stop him he’s
sliding off the desk and onto his knees, looking up at him from under his
lashes.
“What-“
His hands wrap cautiously around Speirs’ cock, and Speirs has to make a
desperate grab for his chair as his knees buckle from the sensation.
“Are you going to come too, Daddy?” Babe asks, eager. Hungry.
Speirs can’t get his brain to work, doesn’t reply, just thrusts forward into
Babe’s tight grip with a stuttered moan. Then Babe is wrapping his mouth around
the head of his cock and Speirs’ world tunnels into whitehot and wet and so
fucking good, can feel Babe’s tongue flutter against the underside, unsure and
clumsy, fucking God Almighty—
The world narrows and fades out, just for a moment, then expands again in a
rush of pleasurable agony as his orgasm builds, threatens to overcome him. Babe
doesn’t let himself be pushed off, just grabs Speirs by the hips and sucks
harder. He looks up into Speirs’ eyes and that’s all it takes to push him over
the edge and his vision blurs because Babe swallows it down like a delicious
fucking milkshake and… he is so. So. Fucked.
Breathing harshly, he leans down to swipe at the corner of Babe’s mouth, and
Babe turns to suck his thumb, like he can’t get enough of the taste of him.
“You like that?” Speirs chokes out, shaking. “You like how Daddy tastes?”
Babe’s eyes shine as he lets Speirs’ thumb go with a soft pop. “Yes, Daddy,” he
whispers. “You taste so good.”
Speirs pulls Babe roughly towards him and kisses his beautiful mouth, tasting
himself on Babe’s tongue, and he’s never felt this need to completely possess a
human being before. Babe clings to him, moans like a whore into his mouth, and
that’s when he knows that he is lost.
“You are mine,” Speirs whispers, grasping his chin and forcing it upwards. He
tastes the skin of his neck and it is sweeter than honey, pure and undefiled
under his tongue. He bites down to leave a mark, no longer caring who will see.
“Mine.”
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