A/N: A sort of sequel to this.
Godfather took his time rinsing off the blade when he finished taking off his boy’s hair. He wanted Nate to wait, stew in his juices until he was nice and pink, but Godfather needed the time too; he concentrated on breathing slow through his nose, keeping his heartrate down, keeping his dick under control for what he was going to see when he turned around to face Nate.
Nate looked up at him from the bathroom rug — green eyes wide, cheeks smooth, crotch smoother — putting on the perfect little boy act for Godfather when he said, voice cracking, “I feel nervous.”
Godfather’s rasp was even more pronounced when he answered, “Don’t worry, son, I’ll show you how. It’ll feel good.” Unzipping his pants echoed through the tight space; so did little Nate’s sharp inhale.
Punishment was welcome when it took this form.
Godfather had leaned back in his armchair, a cigar between his teeth like a dick, and he signaled for Nate to take to the pole; the way Godfather’s lips closed around the cigar, the smoke curling from his nostrils, and his fist lazily stroking his cock as he watched Nate move all summed to Nate breaking the rules with a full erection while he danced. Godfather put down the cigar and picked up his belt, stalking toward a blushing, eager Nate with purposeful steps; he yanked Nate against the pole, the metal cool along the line of his spine, and wrapped the leather around and around Nate’s wrists.
“You think you can break my rules? Well, then I think I’ll help you along,” Godfather rasped against Nate’s cheek, his fist already pumping fast and hard along Nate’s dick. Nate only needed another half dozen strokes before he was spilling across Godfather’s knuckles, but Godfather didn’t stop, forcing another orgasm from Nate’s oversensitive cock and tears from the corners of Nate’s eyes.
Mr. Ferrando looked at Nate over his glasses. “Your tie is crooked. Fix it.”
Nate’s fingers went to his throat, tugging at his uniform, trying to make it better; he really needed a good grade, so he was ready to do whatever Mr. Ferrando wanted him to.
“Like this,” Mr. Ferrando said, stepping into Nate’s space — a little too close — and suddenly tearing Nate’s tie from around his neck; the top button of Nate’s uniform shirt went too, making a little, melodic ping as it hit the tile floor… it was like the bell ringing for the beginning of school.
Nate cleared his throat. “I— I really need an A in chemistry, sir,” he said low, straining to keep his thoughts straight with Mr. Ferrando’s thumb stroking the base of his throat with a rhythmic pulse.
“Then I suggest you get the rest of those buttons open.”
“Flex,” Godfather commanded a spare moment before slapping Nate’s bare ass; the firm muscle barely bounced, but Nate’s skin turned pink. “Look at that, gentlemen. That is a prime specimen.”
This always made Nate blush; hearing Godfather compliment him in front of strangers, feeling like a piece of meat and nothing more, something for Godfather’s pleasure… it always made Nate’s dick go hard. And Godfather always pointed it out.
“Uncut and, have a look, it’s a fucking beautiful cock on a fucking beautiful boy.” There were murmurs of agreement around the room and Nate flushed all over, the prickle of all of those eyes on him making him feel almost lightheaded. Godfather’s hand found his lower back, and Nate stilled, warmth spreading from the point of contact. Then Godfather’s fingers spread him open and Nate knew it was time to show off a little more.
“Lay still,” Godfather rasped.
Nate tried to keep the eager smile off his face as Godfather’s calloused hands tilted his head back; his fingers stroked along Nate’s jawline.
“Tilt the head back to open the airway. Check for blockages.” Two of Godfather’s fingers pushed in along Nate’s tongue and he couldn’t keep himself from moaning. “Cover the victim’s mouth with yours,” he said quietly.
Godfather lowered his lips to Nate’s agonizingly slowly… Nate tried to reach up to meet them, but Godfather’s strong hand pressed on his forehead and pushed him down again. His other hand stroked along Nate’s naked dick while he drank in Nate’s gasp.
Below a cut for watersports.
Nate panted; his face was pressed in the crease of Godfather’s thigh and his breath came fast against Godfather’s balls. Godfather’s hand pumped on his dick, jerking himself off in time with Nate’s fingers in his ass; Nate rarely got permission to do this, and he was shockingly turned on by the idea of penetrating Sir, fingers deep in his slick warmth. He shifted his hips against the bed and the drag of his cock across the sheets forced a groan of lust from Nate like he’d been punched; he started rocking his hips in time with their rhythm. Godfather’s breathing hitched as he pulled his fist over the head of his cock; Nate crooked his fingers in the way that Godfather did to make Nate come apart at the seams.
“Fuck, yes, Nathaniel! Fuck my ass,” Godfather rasped. Nate coated the sheets with his own come as though it was his own ass that was getting pounded.
Godfather hovered over Nate’s shoulder as he studied, his presence filling the room; Nate could usually switch off the scening part of his brain and go back to being Nate Fick instead of Godfather’s boy. Right now, however, he’d read the same sentence at least four times and he still had no idea what it said; Godfather’s warmth was penetrating Nate’s t-shirt and all he wanted to do was roll around in it.
Nate sighed and put down his pen; he slipped out of his chair and down to his knees at Godfather’s feet.
“Study break?” Godfather asked, his voice filled with humor as he stroked Nate’s hair. “On one condition: if you get anything other than an A on your exam, you will be in line for a paddling that you’ll never forget.”
Nate’s cock hardened at the rasping command of Godfather’s voice, and he nodded. He already had learned how to please Godfather, and right now he was starting with nuzzling at Godfather’s dick through his trousers.
Godfather thought this would be awkward and uncomfortable — a leash in the palm of his hand tethered Officer Fick to him as they made their way across the floor of the club — but it was not. The dense crowd jostled Fick into Godfather, his scantily clad body pressing against Godfather and eliciting a response that Godfather hadn’t expected: Godfather’s hand came to rest on Fick’s bare chest, maybe to keep him close as they headed toward their objective… or possibly to feel his body move. To compensate for the crowd, the club’s air-conditioning was on full blast and Godfather’s thumb found Nathaniel’s hardened nipple; perhaps it was just the music that made Nathaniel’s chest vibrate then.
They settled into their mark’s booth, and he complemented Godfather on “his boy;” Nathaniel leaned closer to Godfather’s knee, in character like he’d been born for this. When the man asked Godfather if he was open to sharing, Godfather’s sharp “NO” hung between them like the leash. Nathaniel nuzzled into Godfather’s thigh and looked up at him through his eyelashes like a good boy.
When Godfather rasped “Rookie” at Nate, his new nickname felt like a rough hand to the back of the neck; something that made him warm and obedient in all the right ways. He wasn’t two days out of the Academy and Nate had the chief of the ESU mentoring him, his pale eyes twinkling with a searing heat behind his hardened exterior. He dangled the handcuffs from one finger and ordered Nate to put his hands behind his back; Nate held his breath when he obeyed. The first touch of the cool metal and the grating sound of the cuff surrounding Nate’s wrist sent an unexpected jolt through his body and his balls tightened with a mix of tension and surprised lust. Godfather’s fingers swept over Nate’s wrist before the other cuff snicked closed; he slowly pulled Nate’s wrists up high behind his back, but Nate could ignore the pain with Godfather’s groin pressed against his ass in the promise of a wholly different kind of lesson.