Born Again

With only three days left until Justin graduates, Father Burke doesn't have a lot of time left to punish his pet delinquent's wicked ways... and when he catches Justin hard at play in full Academy sportswear in the locker rooms, it's time for Justin to take a very long, very rough shower. Part 3 of the Unrepentant trilogy.

Warning: this work of erotic gay romance is intended for adults only and contains very rough gay sex, object insertion, pain and power play between consenting adults, and romance blossoming in the most unexpected places, and may lead to one-handed reading. (6500 words)

Excerpt:

Justin was still wearing most of his gear, but even with the helmet and shoulder pads on and Justin's back to the door, Burke could recognize the bare shape of Justin's lower back where the torso padding ended and the lithe curve of his ass. Spandex football pants clung tight to his body as he tried to hook the fly on the edge of the long bench in the middle of the room, grinding against it, lacrosse-gloved hands gripping the sides.

The youth wasn't actually on either of those teams, but Burke was past caring how Justin had got his hands on the various bits of varsity gear. He watched the youth's thighs flex as he pushed against the bench again in a slow rolling motion, his ass tensing and relaxing. The only sound in the room was Justin's muted breath, heavy with adolescent lust.

He had to know Burke was there – that someone was there. The door to the locker room was quiet, but it wasn't silent. But Justin didn't turn around, he just kept humping the bench in that mesmerizing, tantalizing rhythm.

Obviously, this could not continue. Burke took a step forward, hesitated. Part of him wanted nothing more than to watch this, to see Justin's young body tense and quiver until the youth couldn't stand the pressure anymore, to see him reach down and fumble with the fly of those football pants until he could free himself from the confines of fabric and cup, could stroke himself with gloved fingers until he was moaning and spraying his hot white spunk all over the little mound of St. Kilda's sportswear.

The rest of Burke, though, knew exactly what this was. Justin was sinning, and breaking rules, and behaving in ways wholly incompatible with the upstanding young man the priest was doing his utmost to mold this delinquent into. The rest of Burke wanted to punish him.

Father Burke strode forward, all hesitance gone. His hand slapped home, into that delicate place where the football pants' inseams met, his fingers drumming against the hard shape of a protective cup. His thumb ground into Justin's taint through the spandex, slid precipitously up to press a promise through the fabric into the familiar heat of the youth's body.

“Again, Justin?” Burke murmured. “We're going to have to control that lust of yours.”