Hollow Bones

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned."

The small wooden booth creaks beneath the subtle shifts of your weight on its uncomfortable bench, dim light filtering through the cracks and illuminated by the broken stained-glass window above the altar. Intricate patterns flutter across the walls, flickering like the quiet thrum of your heartbeat. The scent of sweat and musk permeates the space, permeated by the acrid tang of gunpowder and smoke drifting in lazily from the nave where your team has sought refuge.

And here you are, thinking you'd sworn off church forever. Content to no longer fall to your already bruised knees each week behind the pews, no longer silenced by the church elders and rulers rapping against your hand when you dared fidget.

You know he's there before he even speaks. The soft sigh of breath from the booth beside yours only makes your pulse quicken, anticipation and nerves warring in equal measure as the other occupant settles. Something about his presence fills the confessional, an unspoken air of command that leaves you feeling both vulnerable and safe.

Dirty, unholy, yet ready to be made pure by his hand.

At least he's kind enough to not make you wait for long. Your Captain's voice comes through the screen, low and smooth but with a gravelly edge that never fails to send a shiver down your spine. "How long has it been since your last confession, my child?"

You bite your lip, chastisement igniting the blood in your veins yet also sending fire licking down deep into your belly. "It's been too long, Father," you admit, a note of shame seeping through your voice.

"Too long, indeed," He hums, noncommittal. "And what sins have you brought to lie bare today, Sparrow?"

You hesitate for a moment, shifting in the white linen dress you'd packed deep in your kit, exactly for this occasion. Bare beneath, you clench your thighs together as wetness pools into the fabric. The words hang off your tongue, and you almost want to play coy, make him work for every confession.

At the same time, you can't help the pang of fear deep in your soul for a moment. Remnants of Catholic guilt, of course, but something... deeper. You trust your Captain, with your life, with your body, with yourheart,but the intensity of the moment is almost too much to bear, even though you'd both discussed this song and dance in detail.

You wonder what he looks like. John packed his own set of 'nicer' clothes for this moment--a cheap collar that fit well with his deep black dress shirt. He likely wore that, but what else? A cross nestled against his brown, thick hair? Hands clasped together in prayer, as if he could truly deliver you from evil and back into the light, from the morality of your sins and into his graces?

John embodied the role perfectly, almost too perfectly, like it was made for him, almost terrifying in its intensity as--for a brief moment--you forget where you are and who you're with.

No. I'm with John. He would never hurt me, I could safeword at any moment and he'd stop, would bundle me up in his arms and promise everything is gonna be okay...

But youwantto please him, want to offer yourself like a sacrificial lamb, to pour yourself out and be cleansed by his hand. To be made holy again just as you are, even if you feel naked without your kit.

"I've had... thoughts," you murmur softly, heat rising to your cheeks. "Thoughts that aren't... pure. Thoughts I can't seem to shake, no matter how hard I try."

A pause, John shifting slightly in his seat. The noise fills the space, a stark reminder of how little separates you from your savior. You feel him considering your words, rolling them around in his thoughts like a fine whisky he savors on his tongue.

"What kind of thoughts, Sparrow?" He asks, voice dipping into a low purr, almost... depraved. "Tell me, in detail. You must be specific if you want absolution."

The memory of your bruised knees resurfaces, but in a new context as he coaxes you, gentle yet firm. Unyielding, like his hand in your hair, drawing you in until your eyes fill with tears as your nose brushes the curls of his-- "You can tell me anything, my child. There is no judgment here. Only understanding and forgiveness."

Silence passes for several moments, only disturbed by your shuddering breaths. It's almost too real, too close to the trauma you endured in your desperation to please people who never cared about you--

"Relax," John's voice is closer now, as if he's leaning against the partition to make sure you hear his words. "You're safe here, little bird. I know you're nervous. Just take your time."

Little bird. His favorite nickname for you, the sign you'd decided on 'out of character' so to speak, for him to check in without breaking the immersion you craved. To remind you that, at the end of this, no matter what, you would be Captain and Sergeant once more. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Partners, equals in every way that matter.

Maybe God was looking out after all. Leading me to this task force, allowing me not only one, but four soulmates. Turn your back, big guy. You're not going to want to see this next part.

Your eyes slide shut as you lean forward, curling in while your loose curls hang. "I've... I've engaged in sins of the flesh, Father. Lust."

"Continue."

The single word holds so many meanings, hidden in the way his breath hitches as the word escapes, the slightly louder creak of the wood as his boot shifts across the floor, the barely there chuckle coloring his tone.

"I've thought about you, Father," you admit, barely managing a whisper. "About... about the way you look at me, the way your hands feel when you hold me tight to your chest." You break off for a moment, squirming in place once more. "When your hands linger, your fingers tracing over my skin... about your voice, whispering in my ear, telling me..." You're panting now, the words rushing to escape your thoughts in a torrent.

"Telling you what?" John presses gently, masterfully toeing the line between understanding and authority. "You can say it here, in the safety of confession. There is no judgment, only truth, little bird."

"Telling me that... that I'm yours. That you own me. That you've claimed me, that you'll take me however you desire, that you'll make me beg for your touch. Beg for your... for your cock, your seed, to be allowed my own release. That you'll take care of me. Telling me over and over that I'm yours, until I believe it, until I feel it in everything I am. Until you've branded it to my soul, marked forever as yours as you carve your name into my bones, so I'll forever carry a piece of you."

John's silence is a heavy, palpable thing. Almost as if the air is holding its breath along with you. When he finally speaks, you shiver at the barely restrained desire in his voice. "There is no sin in wanting, in feeling. These thoughts... they're natural. Human. There's no shame in desire, in imagining something more. But these thoughts... they're more than just fantasies, aren't they, Sparrow? They'redesires. What you want. What you need. What youcrave."

"Yes, Father," you whimper out. "Please, I know I'm nothing but a sinner, that I'll never be anything holy and pure--"

"You're not sinning, love." John sighs, a slight smile in his voice as he pulls you from your tailspin before it can begin. "You're being honest. Wanting to be a cherished possession, wanting to be mine... there's nothing wrong with that. All you need to do is trust me."

Your heart pounds even as his words soothe over your frayed nerves. "But... I do trust you, Father. How... how do I move forward?" You're nearly begging now, thighs rubbing together and desperate for any kind of friction.

"Sometimes the only way is to face these desires. Confront them," he says, tone shifting to something more direct, a low growl of promise. "Acknowledge them and decide whether it's something to act on... or something to let go."

Tears prick your eyes. You know his words are scripted, that it's all an act, that he would never let you go, but you're desperate for reassurance. Ready to slam yourself through the thin wall to reach him, to call an end to this.

"And if I can't let it go?" Your voice trembles just enough to betray your inner turmoil.

His reply is immediate, firm yet gentle. "Then you bring it into the light, little bird. You let it be seen, so it does not become a secret left to fester and rot in darkness. You let it blossom and trust me to help you carry it. To not let you stumble and fall."

A lone tear tracks down your cheek. His words, filled with unspoken promises, send a wave of warmth through your entire body, melting the tension away yet still dulled by the arousal pooling deep in your heart. "Thank you, Father."

"Good girl," he murmurs, voice caressing your thoughts with nothing less than pure, unconditional love. "Are you ready for your penance, my child?"

"Yes, Father."

"Come to me." The softness in his tone isgone, pushed aside by a commanding intensity. "Let me see you, Sparrow. Let me absolve you of your guilt. Let me hold you as we both crave."

Barely a breath passes before you're on your feet, ripping open the door as the wood threatens to splinter beneath your hand. John's door opens, greeting you with a loving smile as his sapphire eyes sparkle, reaching out for you to collapse into his arms, taking solace in his embrace. "There's my good girl," he rasps, trailing a calloused hand down your side. "Always mine."

"Yes, please," you mewl, shivering under his touch. His hand pulls away, fingers clenching around your jaw as he tilts your head to meet his eyes, bulge pressed firmly against your belly as hetowersover you.

"Please,what?"

"Please, Father Price!" You blush hard, looking up at him through your eyelashes, watching his expression shift into something deeper, more depraved, eyes dark with desire.

"Good girl." He pulls you back into the booth, nudging the door closed with his boot before pushing you to your knees, left to stare adoringly. He looks at you, hand still cupping your chin while the other slowly drags his fly down, popping the button on his cargo pants. You lick your lips, reaching up to grasp the holster encircling his thigh.

You're drooling, watching him slowly free his cock from the confines of the fabric, heavy and ruddy red, the veiny length bobbing barely inches from your face. You don't move, watching, waiting for him to say the words that will allow you to bring him to the brink of ecstasy.

"See something you like, love?" He smirks, taking his prick in one hand to smear the head against your lips, coating your skin in the milky pre-cum oozing from his slit. You whimper low in your throat, desperate for a taste of your Captain, your lover, your God.

He's waiting for an answer, waiting for you tobeg. "Yes, Fa-Daddy," you manage, eyes flickering between his solid length and his stormy eyes. "May I please serve you and bring you pleasure?"

"You may." His voice is casual, almostboredas you slowly nuzzle around the flushed head, offering little kitten licks and kisses over the shiny skin and the prominent veins resting on the underside. He allows it, for a few moments, before his hand tangles in your hair and he tugs enough to sting. "Suck, Sparrow."

Looking up at him, making sure your gazes meet, you envelop the tip of his cock in the warm, wet heat of your mouth, running your tongue along the seam where it meets the shaft as he groans. "That's it, love, goooooooood girl," his growl is drawn out, deep and powerful and enough for your cunt to clench in response. "Good girl. Just like that, love, use your tongue."

Your only thoughts revolve around doing everything in your power to make him come undone. John's sighs are pure ecstasy, muted groans as his hand cradles the back of your head, encouraging you to take more. He's holding back, biting off his pleasure-filled moans when they get too loud, breath hitching until you reach up to stroke his taint, all the way up until your fist wraps around the part of his cock your lips don't yet cover.

"Bloody hell," he grips your hair tighter, forcing a few more centimetres down your throat, beginning to rock his hips in long, powerful drags. "The mouth on you, Sparrow... could turn any man into a sinner with those perfect lips."

The praise--coupled with his thrusts--sends your eyes rolling back as you mewl around his thickness. Hot and heavy on your tongue, muffling your heady noises as he continues rutting into you. "Gonna take the whole thing, love? Choke on my cock, lemme see those pretty eyes all teary and desperate?"

You nod as best you can around him, sucking in one more desperate breath before he shoves your head down, gagging you and holding you there so you can't squirm away. You swallowhard, trying to coax his length down your throat, the muscles fluttering as he groans, pulling back only to slam back in again. Your nose is buried in the soft, curly hair framing his pelvis, hands on his hips now in a desperate attempt to ground yourself as he uses you for his own pleasure, his own personal fleshlight.

"Oh god, yes, fuck--" He grunts. "Throat was fuckin' made for cock." Your eyes water as you struggle for air, finally falling back when he releases his iron grip, connected by a thin strand of drool as your chest heaves. "Good girl, come on. Up on Daddy's lap, that's it..."

Weak, you stumble into his arms the moment you go to stand, and John huffs a laugh. "Easy. You solid?"

"Yes, Daddy," you nuzzle against his chest for a brief moment before he backs up, settling back on the bench with his cock proudly jutting outwards and up. His hands trail down to clasp yours with a reassuring squeeze, expression tender and warm as you practically float towards him, your snow white dress swishing with each movement.

"Lookin' like a proper angel, little bird," he hums, helping you mount him and making sure your legs are comfortable. You lean your forehead against his, savoring how his cheeks lift in a lazy grin while you hover over him, returning his calloused fingers to your hips and bunching the fabric. "So naughty, though. No panties?"

"Figured you'd appreciate it," you giggle, a shy flush heating your face.

"Oh, I do," John rasps, dipping down and laving open-mouthed kisses against your neck. "Maybe after this I'll eat my seed out of your tight little cunny, give 'er a proper treat. Bend you over the altar, maybe have the lads hold your limbs so you can't squirm away. Flip the script, beg my perfect goddess to deliver me from evil as I worship her."

"Fuck," you mewl, squirming against his cock. He's not in you, not yet, leaving you painfully empty and leaking all over his thighs. He laughs, soft and deep as he guides you to rock against his legs for a few long, desperate moments. "Daddy, please..."

"Please what? Use your words, love." He smirks against your collarbone now, the sharp edges of his teeth grazing your skin, sucking it into his mouth with a playful bite before immediately soothing it with his tongue and a sloppy kiss.

"Ah--Daddy, please, please fuck me--" you whine out, trying to lift your hips to spear yourself on his length. He's stronger than you, knows your tricks, and holds you down easily.

"Sweet little bird wants Daddy's cock, hmm?"

"Yes! Please, please let me have your cock, I'll--" you gasp as his head dips lower, claiming a nipple between his lips, tugging and sucking even as your words fall away to a desperate, wordless cry of pleasure.

You could cum just from this, if he let you. But you know better, know this push and pull almost always ends with him exerting his control over you in every way. Reminding you that no matter what, no matter when or *where--*back in the barracks, at the home you all share, on an op--he's in charge. Your Captain, your Dominant, yourDaddy...

You never could have imagined getting this lucky. Not only in this moment, justJohnandSparrow, but when it's the five of you curled around each other, shared breaths filling the space, a tangle of arms and legs and shared laughter. Loved--*unconditionally--*by the four men who have become more than just your team, something deeper than just lovers or family.

A sharp pinch, rough fingers tugging on your ignored nipple, rolling and pulling until your back arches and you cry out. "Focus, pet." John growls, pulling away to blow a breath over the other peak. "You want Daddy's cock, don't you? Want Daddy to watch your perfect little tits bounce as he makes your sweet cunny cream for him?"

"Yes, Daddy!" You gasp, breathless, already seeing stars. "Oh-- please, please Daddy, please fuck me, take me however you want Daddy just please please let me take your cock, stretch me out on you and ma--ah, *fuck--*make me sing--"

"Not yet, love. Need to stretch you first," He hums, finally sliding a hand down to cup your mound. "Make sure my little bird's ready for Daddy's thick cock. Wouldn't wanna hurt you, hmm?"

And oh, his fingers are fuckingexquisite, one thick digit prodding at your entrance, gathering your juices over the rough pad before pushing in, little by little. His thumb rubs your clit, tight yet slow circles, enough for your thighs to shake just a little as you keen.

"Look at you, love," He breathes, awestruck. There's a nearly feral glint in John's deep blue eyes, swirling pools of sapphire that suck you in, lay you bare before him. It doesn't scare you, not anymore, not like it used to. His gaze holds nothing but adoration, pure love that once felt so foreign, that you refused to accept forso longbecause you didn't think youdeservedit-- "You're a bloody vision. Most beautiful woman in the world, and to think you look at a group of muppets like us... could've picked anyone you wanted, and you chose us."

"Always," you breathe. His hands still, and you finally see something else in his expression, the same insecurity that still snags you in its grasp far too often. The moments of uncertainty, that you could somehow find yourself walking away from them... "I would choose you over anyone. All of you. There will never, ever,everbe anyone else for me, John."

He leans in, eyes fluttering shut as yours do the same, claiming your lips in a loving kiss, soft and slow and enough to make the room melt away. Nothing matters in the world aside from this. Healing together, accepting that even with how dirty you have to get to keep the world clean, there will always be a home for you to return to. John's tongue laps against your lips almost playfully, waiting to dart in as soon as they part to deepen the kiss until you're rocking against each other, rekindling the inferno just under the surface.

John crooks his finger, searching for that spongy spot he knows will make youmewl, and when you gasp into his mouth, pulling away ever so slightly to lean your heads together again and just barely graze your lips, trading desperate breaths he sinks a second digit deep into your tight heat.

"Ohgod," you whimper, eyes fluttering as he watches you begin to come apart. "Please, please, s'good,Daddy--"

"Yeah? You gonna cum all over my fingers, baby?" He pants, beard grazing your skin when he leans in to plant another kiss over your open mouth. "Gonna wet Daddy's hand with your cream and lick it off after?"

"More, more, more," you chant, eyes wide and nearly unseeing, only able to focus on the azure of his in the low light. "Please, more, more--"

"My, my, such a needy little sinner," he chuckles. "That desperate, hmm?"

You whine, feeling a third digit press in and start thrusting in and out, his fingers crooking up each time as his attention to your clit becomes more frantic, winding you up and up and up until the tension snaps--