There’s a reverence in the way they move. Jared’s always been a little fascinated by the fathers and brothers from the Monastery on the Hill. Somehow, even when they’re tending the garden or filling the bird feeders they’re graceful. Jared can see them over the wall if he watches from his bedroom window.
Meanwhile, Jared is awkward, all long-limbed and clumsy – he’s broken more than his fair share of his mother’s dishes, and, recently, a lamp. She made him confess that, like he’d done it on purpose instead of being too involved in a wrestling match with Megan. He didn’t even say that at confession, just stuck to the script like he was supposed to, but Father Ackles had still chuckled from the other side of the screen.
Father Ackles is the most graceful of all the monks. Jared can’t help watching him. There’s something about him – Jared likes when Father Ackles catches him looking. It makes him feel hot, like his body isn’t big enough somehow, as though he might burst out of it. It makes his dick wet, hard behind the zipper of his best slacks, and he fidgets on the pew, pulling his sweater down and folding his arms in his lap to hide it.
“Jared, quit squirming,” his mother hisses during mass, under her breath, swatting at his leg.
He tries, but it’s easier when Father Ackles isn’t standing behind the altar.
Afterwards, he has to wait in the yard outside the church doors with Megan because they’ve lost their mother. Megan pokes at him and she slaps his hands away, only doesn’t get into it because who knows what he might break here, and it’d be worth way more Hail Marys than his mother’s lamp. He looks around for her instead, doing his best to ignore his sister’s goading, and he spots her talking with Father Ackles.
Jared’s cheeks feel warm immediately, his tongue too big for his mouth, thick like he might choke. He swallows hard. He doesn’t know what it is about him that does this, and Jared knows he shouldn’t like it, but he does. Father Ackles has a nice face and kind eyes with crinkles at the corners. His voice is low and sometimes rumbly but there’s something gentle about him. Even though the way Jared feels is a little scary – less so, the more it keeps happening – he’s not afraid.
It’s what keeps him rooted in place as his mother turns and points right at him, and Father Ackles smiles and nods. They start coming towards him, and when Father sees Jared looking at him, he smiles again, somehow different, and waves.
Jared raises his arm and waves back without thinking, his arm responding to Father’s gesture as though looking into a mirror, or tied to a string being controlled by someone else.
“Hello, Jared,” Father says once he’s closer. He’s looking right at Jared, and from here, Jared can see the sunlit green of his eyes.
“Hello, Father,” Jared replies quietly, and he fidgets again, tries to find a subtle position for his arms, prays silently that his hard on isn’t as obvious as it feels. Jared has to look away.
“Your mother tells me you’re interested in life at the monastery,” Father continues, and Jared’s eyes fly back up to his, his cheeks getting impossibly hotter even as his mother and sister stand next to them. “She also thinks you might benefit from a little extra prayer and guidance.”
His mother has turned away slightly to grab at Megan’s hands where they’re fiddling with wick of an unlit prayer candle. Megan is so much worse than Jared, and she gets away with so much more. But right now, Jared is too distracted to point that out or whine about it. Right now, it almost feels like it’s just him and Father Ackles, and everything else is blur.
“Y-yes, Father,” Jared finally answers, not sure what else to say, and for the briefest moment, he swears Father Ackles seems frozen. Just as quickly, the priest is quietly clearing his throat, and Jared isn’t sure what he saw.
“Well, Jared,” Father smiles again. “There’s no time like the present.”
Surely God is testing him. Surely he already knows that Jensen will fail.
Jensen has never wavered in his path, not once, not until the first day he laid eyes on the Padalecki boy.
Jensen has never felt lust the way he does now when he sees him. He’s tried to bury himself in prayer. He’s fasted. He’s been silent. When he thinks he’s found respite, Jared is looking up at him from the kneeler between the pews, his big doe eyes bright underneath his unruly bangs. When he thinks he’s found some peace again, Jared turns up in his confessional, and suddenly Jensen has a mind full of sinful thoughts he dare never confess to one of his brethren.
It has been a suffering, and Jensen would be glad for the burden, but then Jared’s eyes seem to always be on him. Jensen can see Jared’s blush from behind the altar and it’s agony, wondering, wanting. He finds brief solace in the words of the mass, but then Mrs. Padalecki is asking him to spend some time with her son.
“He’s a bit… rambunctious,” she explains. “I thought perhaps you might help tame him, show him the value of stillness and quiet.”
“Prayer is a valuable tool,” Jensen offers, anything as a buffer between what she’s asking from him and everywhere his mind is racing. “Both for communicating with God and practicing self-discipline.”
She seems completely unaware of Jensen’s internal struggle, and Jensen doesn’t know why he doesn’t feel more guilty, moving towards Jared alongside his mother. Perhaps because he hasn’t done anything yet, but Jensen is acutely aware in this moment more than any other before: he is just a man, born to sin.
There’s no way Jared doesn’t know, doesn’t feel the tension between them. Jensen has seen him shift in that telltale sort of way, has more than once sworn he could make out the shape of him through his dress pants. Whatever this longing is, whatever compelling want is overwhelming Jensen’s restraint and lifetime of dedication, Jared is on the other end of it, and when he looks up at Jensen through his lashes and stutters out yes, Father with the quiet confidence of a boy who somehow knows, Jensen almost forgets how to breathe.
The monastery grounds are quite extensive. It’s not difficult for Jensen to steer them far from the buildings and other brothers, to give them some privacy. It’s a beautiful day for a walk, and God’s creation is a perfectly acceptable backdrop for a lesson.
That’s how Jensen tells himself it looks.
Jensen does most of the talking. Despite what Jared’s mother says, he’s not rambunctious now, or even particularly chatty, though his one- and two-word responses are not rude. Quite the contrary, Jared seems attentive, watching when Jensen speaks, only looking away occasionally as if to note the distance between them and the rest of the world they know. His eyes routinely drop to Jensen’s mouth, unabashed, and Jensen finds himself licking his lips impulsively while he speaks.
At the farthest eastern corner of the property, down the other side of the hill and out of view, there’s a copse of trees. A small, simple statue of the Blessed Virgin is there. The area for prayer is not large, meant for one person to find solitude and silence, so when Jensen follows Jared inside they stand quite close together. Jensen is suddenly painfully aware of his hands at his sides, itching to touch.
Jared looks up at him without saying a word, but Jensen swears there’s something in the tilt of his head and the intensity of his gaze that’s daring him. Jensen is weak.
Jared is tall for his age, likely going to keep growing quite a while yet, maybe someday taller even than Jensen. But for now, it doesn’t take much at all for Jensen to hold his chin in his hand and lean down.
Before he lets his eyes close, he swears that Jared smiles, and opens his mouth.
The kiss is anything but chaste, the way Jared begs him in. It’s not smooth either, and it’s obvious that they may share a lack of experience. Jensen can’t speak for Jared, but he’s certain he can make up for it with enthusiasm.
Jensen uses his hold on Jared’s face to tip it down, forcing them apart, and they’re both panting for breath.
“Shall I show you how we pray, Jared?” Jensen asks, a secret thrill for the perversion of it making his dick ache, and the husky quality of his voice is a surprise even to him.
Jared looks up at him questioningly, and Jensen doesn’t hesitate. He drops to his knees.
The space is small enough with the both of them that the motion forces Jared back, against a tree. Jensen’s hands shake as he reaches for Jared’s belt buckle, but not from fear. He wants this so badly he’s not sure what would happen if Jared walked away from him right now. But that’s not what happens.
Jared reaches for Jensen’s shoulders, nodding. “Please, Father.”
Jensen’s eyes flutter shut at the words, and he makes a broken sound in his throat he’s sure he’s never uttered before. Jared’s fingers just dig in, one thumb playing along the rigid edge of Jensen’s collar while Jensen hurries with the buckle, and then the zipper.
Jensen swallows thickly as Jared’s slacks hang open in front of his face, the scent of teenage sweat and Jared’s own arousal making up most of what he breathes in next. He feels himself getting wet, and spares a quick glance up at Jared as he reaches to pull down his pants and underwear.
Jared’s eyes are wide and dark, focused on Jensen the way they always are, his cheeks flushed and sweat at his temples and his neck sticking pieces of his hair to his skin. Jared holds onto him as though he might float away if he let go, and when Jensen exposes him, letting his clothing pool at his ankles, Jared sighs, relaxing a little and leaning back against the tree.
Jared is well on his way, surely an early bloomer in this as well as his height, and at the sight of his dick swaying proudly, pink and shiny at the tip, Jensen’s mouth waters instantly. He feels like a starving man just sat down to feast. He’s ravenous.
He fumbles a bit when he reaches for Jared, guides him to his mouth. His hands are dumb with his desperation, and while he has no practical idea what he’s doing, he’s certain he can figure it out. At any rate, Jared gasps and shudders at the very first touch of his fingers, and when Jensen takes the tip between his lips like a kiss, Jared keens.
The taste is not unlike the smell, musky and somehow warm, salty and slick. Jensen gives an experimental suck–
“Father!” Jared moans, sucking in quick, laboured breaths, and Jensen feels a rush at each sound he wins.
Jensen looks up at him and Jared looks back. There’s a reverence in Jared’s eyes when Jensen holds his gaze as he takes as much of his length into his mouth as he can manage. He finds his gag reflex sooner than he was expecting, and chokes impulsively, his eyes watering as he backs off, coughing.
“I’m so sorry,” Jared says in a rush, frantic and embarrassed, but Jensen shakes his head.
“May I–” Jensen startles, his voice wrecked. “May I try again?”
Jared is nodding quickly, and one shaky hand reaches for Jensen’s face. Everything about this is wrong in every way that Jensen knows it to be, but Jared wants this – wants him – and Jensen knows in his heart of hearts, as long as that’s the case, he’s not strong enough to deny them.
After this, he’s not sure he even wants to.
He takes Jared back into his mouth, feels a salty burst on his tongue, then licks and prods along underneath the head where it’s sensitive. Jared whines and clings to him, and Jensen tentatively tries again to find a rhythm, an easy in-and-out. He’s can only guess, based on the broken attempts at words and moans above him that Jared is going to finish soon, and Jensen is already longing for this again – the taste, the feeling of being full, how Jared looks while Jensen is on his knees. Jensen wraps a hand around the base of Jared’s cock, jacking it as he sucks at the tip, and then Jared is coming, curling in around Jensen’s head as he shakes apart.
Jensen swallows at first, but the volume surprises him, and by the third pulse he has to back off and gasp for breath while Jared paints his mouth, cheeks, and chin with come.
Jensen blinks and licks his lips, collects what he can, but he can feel the wet splashes where they cling to his skin. Jared gasps above him as though freed from a vice, then shakily drops in a heap before him.
“Father,” Jared whines, and then he’s kissing him sloppily, licking at his face to clean it. Jensen moans then, desperate and fit to burst, each open-mouth press of Jared’s lips and each wet pass of his tongue like a shock that ripples through him all the way to his toes, curling behind the shiny, polished leather of his formal shoes, right now buried in the dirt.
He teeters on the edge, and when Jared is apparently done licking, his spit drying on Jensen’s cheeks, he doesn’t even get all the way through the question before Jensen is grabbing his wrist.
Jensen pulls him close by the arm and presses his the palm of his open hand against his blood-hot, iron hard cock. The wool of his suit pants is blessedly thin, and he feels the heat of Jared’s hand, the brief pause of possible shock, and then Jared’s fingers grabbing at him through the material. Jared tugs at him awkwardly and Jensen’s hips twitch of their own accord, pushing into it, and then Jensen stutters, finally achieving his release.
“Jared!” Jensen cries out, like a prayer, flooding his underwear, soaked even for Jared to feel against his palm.
Jared’s hand slows and Jensen lets go of his wrist, sees the red-laced white relief of his fingers on Jared’s skin before they fade away. He finds himself sad for the loss of the mark, the desire to visibly claim Jared a revelation he’s already aching to explore.
He lets his eyes find Jared’s and they’re already watching him, like always, and while Jensen sees that Jared is smiling and sated, he’s certain he recognizes the hunger there, too.
He kisses Jared, this time chastely, and Jared lets him. It seems to Jensen as though he’d let Jensen keep him here, let Jensen do all the things he wants to do, worship newly in every way he can think of at the altar of Jared’s body, but they can’t stay here.
Jensen stands up, brushing the dirt of his knees, meticulously removing each speck of earth, then adjust himself in his pants with a grimace. He’s thankful for the forgiving nature of black material.
Jared is still watching him from the ground, and Jensen reaches out a hand to help him up.
He takes it with a smile.
“How was Father Ackles?” Jared’s mother asks at dinner, when Jared has just finished stuffing his face with mashed potatoes. He has to deliberately keep himself from choking. “Did you learn anything today?”
Jared feels his cheeks warming as he swallows his mouthful, but after he clears his throat he gives his mother a small, innocent smile.
“I did. He’s teaching me how to pray. But there’s a lot I still have to learn. I’m going to go back tomorrow on the way home from school.”
Jared’s mother beams at him, absolutely pleased to hear it.
When she turns around, Jared adjusts himself under the table, then kicks at Megan’s foot for making faces at him.