The Sin-Eater Mini-Fic possible ch.1 (Patreon)

(I went back in and added more too it. Still not edited by my actual editor yet.) Waylon Boone was so used to people barging into his office

(I went back in and added more too it. Still not edited by my actual editor yet.)Waylon Boone was so used to people barging into his office, that he didn’t even bother looking up when he heard someone enter. When nobody spoke, Boone sighed. He didn’t even have to look up to know who it was. Only one person had the audacity to barge into his office, just to stand there ogling him.“Hey, Daddy,” the voice cooed, dragging out the unprompted honorific.“Don’t call me that,” he said, keeping his tone bored even as a spike of pure heat shot through his dick.Boone could order him to leave, but it would be futile. Ordering Payton Skinner to do anything he didn’t want to do was just an exercise in frustration. And Boone had enough of that running a school of hormonal psychopaths.The psychopath in question, sucked his teeth. “Don’t be mean.”Boone snorted, continuing to review the paperwork before him. “How is it mean to ask you to refrain from referring to me as your father?”“I didn’t call you my father. My father is an intolerant, pompous windbag. I called you Daddy. That’s very different.”“I don’t see how,” Boone lied flippantly.A shadow fell over him. An expensive black boot appeared at the base of his chair, before Boone was slowly pushed away from his desk. It provided just enough space for the boy to slip in front of him, and plop himself onto Boone’s desk, getting comfortable on top of the proposal Boome had spent the entire morning on. The one due to the internal review board in roughly twelve hours.Boone leaned back in his chair, arching a brow at the boy, once again struck by Payton’s androgynous beauty. He was a study in contradictions. Tall and lean with long limbs and slender hands. Willowy like a tree. He had sharp features, his nose and jawline severe, his brows dark slashes across his pale skin. It could have been too much. But God or the universe or exceptional genetics had also blessed the boy with cat-like honey eyes, long inky lashes, soft cheeks covered in freckles  and pillowy lips that somehow always seemed red like he’d just eaten ripe berries. Boone often had to tear his gaze away whenever they were in the same room together.Today, Payton wore his school uniform, his red tie hanging loose around his neck, his white button front shirt untucked. But when left to his own devices, Payton’s style was as eclectic as his features. He’d been the muse of several fashion houses before coming to the watch, apparently using modeling to put himself through college when his father had decided to make him pay his own way touting something about tough love.Boone had seen some of those magazine spreads, had–maybe–studied them at length. But how could he not? Payton in platform heels, black leather pants, slung low on narrow hips, topped with an open fur coat, the X’s tattooed along his toned chest and abdomen jarring against snowy skin.Payton in a chiffon blouse with a white flouncy bow and tight Capri pants that hugged his perfect ass and had definitely come from the designer’s women’s line.Payton in a long string of pearls, a sleeveless sweater, denim short shorts over thigh-high black fishnets, feet clad in clunky combat boots that inexplicably made Payton’s legs look seven miles long despite only being 5 '10. Boone had spent far too long trailing his finger over the photo, wondering if Payton’s skin was as soft as it looked.That photo set was burned into Boone’s memory.For better or worse.He was ashamed of how many nights he’d fucked into his fist picturing Payton in only those fishnets and nothing else. Sometimes he kept the pearls on, too. He shook the thought away, realizing Payton watched him, tongue peeking from the side of his mouth, smirking like he could read Boone’s guilty thoughts. Boone’s gaze followed Payton’s  hand as he fluffed his hair.That was Boone’s real kryptonite. Payton’s hair. It was thick, and so dark it appeared almost black. The texture appeared coarse, but was soft to the touch. His locks were more frizzy than curly and always so wild and untamed he looked exactly like the character that had inspired the boy’s code name: The Mad Hatter.A name that suited Payton for so many reasons.Boone dropped his gaze when Payton winked at him, but that only led to him spreading his legs lewdly, leaving Boone’s attentive gaze on Payton’s tight tailored trousers and the faint outline of Payton’s cock, barely hidden behind the stretched fabric. Boone wanted to touch, to bite, to squeeze, to bury his face between Payton’s legs and see if he tasted as good as he looked.Boone snapped his eyes upwards, realizing he was staring. A dirty smirk spread across Payton’s face, not needing to be a psychic to know what Boone was thinking. Now it was Boone’s pants that felt too tight.He had to get Payton out of there, the boy clouded his judgment. He tried to keep his voice flat. “I have work to do, Payton.” When he made no move to leave, Boone tried again. “Get off my desk, Payton.”The boy tilted his head, brow hooking upwards in challenge. “Make me,” he taunted in a sing-song voice.Despite his years as an assassin, Boone didn’t consider himself a violent man. He would always much rather have a rational conversation, some to a mutual understanding, a compromise where nobody left happy. But when Payton looked at him like that, it was hard not to imagine snatching him by his hair and forcing him to his knees. He wanted to bend him to his will, to force him to behave, no matter the cost.But that would require giving Payton what he wanted. It would make him bolder. And Payton was already far too bold. It was maddening.Boone had spent most of his life in dangerous situations. After high school he’d joined the Marines, got his master’s in teaching and had thought he’d spend his life doing just that, education. But then the government came calling, recruiting him six weeks before his discharge, asking him to be an agent.They even offered him the ability to use his teaching degree by making his cover the principal of an international school attended by children of the most powerful political families in the country. He had done ten year stints in Dubai and then in Thailand, that’s where he’d met Park. Code named The Bone Collector because of his exceptional kill rate. Boone had killed many people, but he’d preferred a long scope and a bullet, quick and impersonal. Park had preferred poisons. He liked to make them suffer.Park had laughed at Boone’s code name the first time he’d heard it. The Sin-Eater. He’d asked if he’d been some kind of priest before taking up a life of covert operations. Boone had laughed himself sick at the thought of him in a robe handing out the sacrament. His southern baptist mother would have been less disappointed if he’d converted to satanism over Catholicism. Boone informed Park that Kendrick had given him the code name because in the military he’d been one of the best interrogators in the field, somehow tricking insurgents into giving up vital information without having to lay a finger on them.In all Boone’s years of dealing with terrorists, criminals and cold-blooded killers, never—not once—had any of them had so little disregard for Boone’s authority. He consoled himself with the fact that, as far as he knew, none of them had been diagnosed psychopaths.Thomas Mulvaney, the man who had initiated the pilot program for the watch several years ago, the phase one study, had once told Boone that raising psychopaths was a lot like being a lion tamer. You only had power when the lion feared you, lose that fear and you were the first on the menu. Running a school for psychopaths felt much the same. Most of the students understood Boone was all that stood between them and a tragic accident. But Payton feared nothing, not even death, especially not death. Payton and death appeared to be good friends.The irony was that Payton wanted Boone to think he was capable of obedience, that Boone could tame him, domesticate him, make him behave. He was a master manipulator and moreover, he was excellent at teaching others how to do the same. According to Park, Payton was the one who taught Gift exactly how to use both his innocence and his sexuality to finally make Park give in.Gift wasn't a psychopath; he'd had genuine feelings for Park. And Park had been pining over Gift for months. It had only been a matter of time. But Payton’s manipulation skills were unmatched. Boone had seen him charm teachers, cafeteria workers, hell, even the janitorial staff. People just wanted to give Payton whatever he asked for, and fuck if Boone wasn’t one fo them.Sadly, Boone was just a game to Payton, a play thing he batted around in his enclosure when he got bored. If anyone had ever been able to tame Payton, he wouldn’t have racked up a body count before his high school graduation. But the way Payton looked at Boone sure made him tempted to try.Park had suggested a firm hand, maybe a little consensual corporal punishment. Boone and Park both shared a love of power exchange in relationships, but he wasn’t sure violence was enough to make Payton fall in line. Granted, nobody had tried. Thomas had insisted that the families who’d taken in the children never attempted to control them with violence, claiming it only fed the psychopathy, made the children see the world as victim and aggressor and made them determined to always have the power in any relationship.Payton’s boot ran up Boone’s inner thigh, yanking him from his thoughts once more. “You’re about two seconds away from being booted out of this program for inappropriate behavior.”Payton stared at him for a solid minute then burst out laughing, the sound as infectious as it was deranged, like something you’d hear echoing in a carnival funhouse.When Payton composed himself, he said, “Tell me, Daddy. What is inappropriate behavior in a school full of psychopaths?”See, both untamable and disrespectful.Boone fixed the pretty boy with a flat stare. Even if Payton didn’t fear him, he did respect him. Or pretended well enough for Boone to maintain some semblance of order within the school. But Boone didn’t dare show even a hint of softness towards the boy. It was too dangerous. Payton was a true predator…in every way. He’d smell how weak Boone was. More specifically, he’d smell how weak Boone was for just him. “Everything you do when you barge into my office without permission is inappropriate behavior.”Payton harrumphed, crossing his arms over his chest, sulking in theatrical fashion. “You used to like spending time with me. You never want to play with me anymore.”If Payton only knew how false that statement was. Boone did want to play with him. But not in a way that would do either of them any good. “What do you want, Payton?”Payton raked his eyes over him, lingering on Boone’s zipper. “You.”Boone shook his head. “Are you trying to get thrown out?”“Of your office or the school?” Payton asked, tapping a finger on his chin like he was giving the question serious thought.“Either? Both?” Boone asked, exasperated.Payton gave him a sweet, soft smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “If you were going to kick me out, you would have done it way before now and we both know how much you’d miss me.” He tilted his head again, narrowing his eyes in that way that made Boone feel like he was being stalked. “Why haven’t you kicked me out, Daddy?”Boone huffed a breath through his nose, rolling his eyes. “Because your father is, somehow, an even bigger pain in my ass than you are.”Payton flinched like he’d been slapped, but recovered quickly. “Well, unlike my father, I’m far more interested in you being a pain in my ass. But I’m verse, so if you want me to top, I’m down. Though I would hope I’d get to ride your co-”“Payton!”Payton sighed dramatically then kicked his feet, whining, “I’m bored. Play with me…”Boone frowned, looking at the clock on the far wall. It was barely one o’clock in the afternoon. “Why aren’t you in class.”Payton grinned. “Park and Gift’s kinky sex games caused Lucy to blow up the chem lab…again.”Boone rocketed forward in his seat, chair hinges screaming in protest. “The lab exploded? Why didn’t anyone call me? How bad is the damage? Were students hurt? Oh, God, dead?”He was talking more to himself than Payton, trying to explain how he would explain to Thomas and Molly that there had been another explosion in the lab. While they were far more competent and tolerant of mistakes than Marshall Kendrick had ever been, this still would look terrible on Boone’s record.He was so deep in thought that he failed to notice he’d walked right into the lion’s den. Sitting upright put him within range of Payton’s wandering hands and sharp claws, the boy humming happily as he combed his long, nimble fingers through Boone’s thick salt and pepper hair. “You worry too much, Booney. It was just a little explosion. The only casualty were Lucy’s eyebrows. And possibly her dignity. If she even has any left at this point. That chick’s a liability.”Boone closed his eyes, lulled by the impromptu scalp massage, the sensation of Payton’s nails dragging over his scalp had goosebumps erupting under his skin and his toes curling in his shoes.This school was going to be the death of him. But Payton was right; Lucy was a liability. Per the girl's file, as a child she’d scored dangerously high on her psychopathy test, almost too high. But, in the end, she’d met the program criteria, so she’d been placed with a powerful family–her father worked for the federal reserve agency–and raised to blend in with society. But she just…didn’t.“I know shrinks everywhere like to break down every single thing about our kind, but in my opinion, there are only two kinds of psycho’s,” Payton’s calves brushed against Boone’s knees each time he swung his legs.“You’ve got  your Ted Bundy psychos like moi–” He put a hand to his chest– “charming, pretty, cunning, deadly,” he continued. “And then there are your Charles Manson psychos: charismatic, narcissistic, manipulative, total lunatics. They’re the ones who make your skin crawl in their presence. It’s all in the eyes. Classic psychos like me, they have dead eyes when not masking. Like a shark. Predatory. But those Charlie M types, like Lucy, you look in their eyes and all you see is how unstable and unpredictable they are. She’d make a great cult leader, but she’s going to make a shit assassin. No offense.”Boone snorted. No offense. Right. But sadly, Payton’s assessment was, as usual, spot on.Before Boone could even think of a response, Payton continued, “Thank all the gods she’s Raven pod and not Peregrine. Not that we’re competing. This isn’t Hogwarts or whatever.” He scrunched up his face. “Are we even allowed to say Hogwarts anymore?”Then he shook his head like he was getting wildly off point, which he might have been. Boone was having trouble keeping up with the conversation. Payton’s fingers were…addictive.Payton continued to chat away as if Boone was participating and not practically drooling in his lap. “But if we were competing, you have to admit Peregrin pod would be winning that house cup.”Boone made a sound he hoped implied he was following along with the conversation.Payton gasped like he’d just had an idea. “Oh, you should make the pods compete. A fight to the death Hunger Games style could be fun, but I suppose that defeats the purpose of the program.” He shrugged. “You should still consider making a point system. Psychopaths are hella competitive. You know?…Boone?”Boone jerked his head up, blinking, yanking himself from his stupor, realizing only then that not only was Payton still petting him, but Boone’s hands had somehow migrated to sit high up on the boy’s slender thighs and were restlessly moving up and down.He jumped back like he’d been burned, Payton’s hands sliding free from Boone’s hair.The boy’s face fell. “Aww, I thought we were bonding.”“We were not bon-” Boone cut himself off, an early part of the conversation resurfacing in his brain, catching his attention. “Wait, what do you mean Park and Gift were playing kinky sex games in the classroom?”Payton smiled coyly. “A little birdy told me that Gift mouthed off to Park and ended up having to spend the day with a bullet vibrator in his ass, one Park controlled with a remote in his pocket. He didn’t even survive until lunch.”“A little birdy?” Boone echoed, leaning forward once more, pushing Payton’s knees wider roughly. Payton sucked in a sharp breath, then whined in disappointment when Boone opened the desk drawer he’d been blocking. He pulled out a bottle of tums, dumping them directly into his mouth like candy. Paytons brows shot up as he watched Boone chew, the crunch loud in the silence until Payton filled it.“Yes, a little birdy named Gift. He told me he almost died from embarrassment but the orgasm had been worth it. Then he said Park railed him into the mattress and was feeding him ramen.” Payton sighed wistfully. “That could be us if you’d just loosen up.”A throbbing started behind Boones left eye. He could feel a headache coming on. He flicked his gaze up to meet Payton’s, wary. “Are you trying to drive me insane? I’m genuinely asking. Is-Is this fun for you?”Boone suddenly had a lap full of the boy. He perched on Boone’s knees, feet still planted on the floor. He set his palms on Boone’s wide shoulders. “Don’t be mad. I just…like being with you.”“Why? Surely there’s someone your own age to torment?” Boone asked, genuinely confused. “I’m old enough to be your-”“Daddy?” Payton finished, cutting him off with a wide grin. When Boone nodded, Payton shrugged. “I like older men. Boys my own age are too…malleable. I need someone who can outsmart me, who can make me want to behave…someone to break my spirit.”With each statement Payton moved deeper and deeper into Boone’s space until their mouths were inches apart and Boone could feel his breath on his lips.I think I can break him.That’s what Boone had said to Mac and Archer about Payton all those months ago. But there was no way Payton could know that. Besides, Boone had been wrong. So wrong. Payton was the one who was breaking Boone, wearing him down. He was getting weak in his old age.“Payton…”Payton’s features softened, a look of genuine disappointment leaching into his voice. “I know you like me. I know you do.”Boone let his thumb caress Payton’s cheek, just to feel if it was as soft as he imagined. It was. He let his hand drop. “It doesn’t matter if I like you or not. I’m…”“My principal? My headmaster?” Payton seemed to take Boone’s touch as permission to touch back. He rubbed his cheek against Boone’s. “That just makes it so much hotter. We’re not just age-gap, we’re student/teacher romance and even forced proximity. If you would just stop fighting me we could be a little BDSM and Daddy kink too.”Boone stared at him, genuinely baffled. “I have no idea what you're saying. Not that I ever do.”Payton rolled his eyes. “They’re tropes. You know, like from romance novels? Right now we're definitely grumpy/sunshine and hopefully–” he crossed his fingers– “enemies to lovers, but you have to play along.”“You read romance novels?” Boone asked, brow arching upwards, deliberately ignoring everything else.Payton nodded, crawling further into Boone’s lap, snuggling deeper until he was lying cradled in his arms like a child. Once he seemed comfortable, he continued, “Only the really smutty gay ones. Sometimes Gift and I cuddle in bed and read the dirty parts out loud to each other. For inspiration. He doesn’t read romance novels though. He prefers fanfic usually about his anime characters.”“ Fanfic?” Boone echoed.“Yeah, you know like when you ship two people who may or may not be a couple in a show or in real life and you make up stories about them for the enjoyment of others? Like the angel, Castiel and Dean from Supernatural, they’re a ship. You know? As in relation ’ship’. Or course, Sam and Dean are also a ship so…”Boone frowned. “Wait. Aren’t they brothers?”Boone only knew that because both lead actors were born and raised in Texas like him.Payton nodded. “Yeah, Wincest shippers. Incest is irrelevant in the world of fanfic. Pretty much any moral compass you have gets smashed after a few months of reading fanfic. It’s like the wild west. There’s no laws at all. You can write literally anything. No matter how sick, twisted or depraved. It’s awesome. I once read a fic where Sam was a sentient cinnamon roll being eaten and fucked by Dean in a cafe full of people. And it was told from the point of view of Sam the sentient pastry.”Boone could feel his face contorting into a look that screamed what the fuck. Sam the Sentient Pastry sounded like the world’s most horrific children’s book. “And…that’s your thing? The cinnamon roll story?”Payton scoffed. “ Oh, God no. I’m allergic to cinnamon.”Boone blinked at him stupidly, trying to gauge exactly at what point he’d lost all control of the conversation. “Weird,” he finally muttered, more to himself than anyone.Payton snickered. “You think that’s weird? Did you know that there’s fanfic about Archer and Mac on Ao3?”“Ao3?”“Yeah, it's a fanfic site. Archive of our Own. They have hundreds of thousands, maybe millions of fanfics about couples, both real and fake, and the Mulvaney’s have their very own tag. I grew up around rich people, but never anyone famous enough to be immortalized in fanfic.”“Me either. But I grew up dirt poor so…”“Of course, Archer’s hot and all, but he’s too young for me. I could go for Mac maybe, but redheads don’t really ‘do it’ for me. I like salt and pepper hair…like yours,” Payton said, his fingers trailing over Boone’s face like he had some claim to him. “Of course, Thomas Mulvaney…he could be hot too. Too bad his husband makes torture devices as a hobby.”Boone’s nostrils flared, jealousy lighting up his insides at Payton’s words. “Thomas Mulvaney raises psychopathic children. He doesn’t date them.”Payton sulked. “You’re mean.”Before Boone could formulate a response, the door to his office burst open. Archer blinked at Boone and Payton, or more specifically, Payton cradled in Boone’s arms.At Archer’s look of confusion, reality crashed in on Boone. He was sitting in his office with a student on his lap. A student that had been flirting with him and playing with his hair. Boone was starting to think Payton was some type of trickster demon. Boone had spent all this time listing the reasons why he and Payton would never work, meanwhile the boy had just climbed on up and made a home in his lap. And Boone hadn’t even tried to stop him, had barely registered it was even happening.Boone forced the boy to his feet. Payton feigned hurt. “Rude.”Boone rolled his eyes. “Get back to class. Now.”Payton looked at Archer, then back to Boone. “Fine…but this isn’t over.”As soon as he left, Boone pulled his not so secret liquor stash from his desk, taking a huge swallow, before holding it out to Archer, who shook his head, making a face.“No, thanks. Never liked the taste of the stuff.” Archer dropped into the seat. “So did you hear about…”“The lab?” Boone sighed. “Yeah.”“Lucy strikes again. I’m starting to think she’s not an assassin but a pyromancer,” Archer said with a laugh.Boone grimaced. “How bad’s the damage?”“To the student or the lab?”“Both?” Boone asked.Archer shrugged. “Lucy’s fine, the lab has a couple thousand dollars in damage. No big deal.”Boone nodded.Archer looked at the antacids on the desk next to the bottle of bourbon. “Wanna talk about it?”“About what?” Boone muttered.“Why your lunch consists of booze and sodium bicarb and why you had our deadliest student curled up in your lap like a domesticated house-cat?”“If I knew, I’d tell you…”Archer chuckled. “That boy’s already got you by the balls.”Boone glowered at him. “Did you know there’s fan fiction written about you and Mac on the internet?”Archer snickered. “Of course. When I piss Mac off he sits on me and forces me to listen while he reads it out loud. Somehow I’m always cast as a pirate or a sad sack full of trauma, healed by the power of love.” Archer laughed at that. “But upside, the sex is usually hot.”Boone didn’t say anything, just dropped his head onto his desk with a painful thud, welcoming the idea of losing consciousness.“Where was Park anyway? Why was Pike watching the baby psychos?”Boone didn’t even look up. “There was a sex toy incident with Gift,” he said, voice muffled.Archer snorted. “Pardon?”“Please don’t make me rehash it. If you want to know so bad, go find Park.”“Somebody’s grumpy.”Grumpy/Sunshine. Enemies to lovers.Boone made a noise of frustration. “Can you just go?”Archer laughed. “I don't know if I should. What if you down that whole bottle of Tums and I find you dead and weirdly bloated tomorrow. I will feel terrible.”“You're a psychopath.”It's a spectrum,” Archer reminded. “On a scale of 1-10, 10 being…”“Charles Manson?” Boone supplied, lifting his head to look at Archer.Archer shrugged. “Yeah sure. I’m like a solid five. Maybe even a five and a half on a bad day.”“Where do you think Payton falls?” Boone heard himself ask.“Hard to say. You’d know better than me. You were the one snuggling with him”“That was…a mistake. I don’t even know how it happened.”That was a lie. It happened because Payton had somehow just wormed his way past Boones defenses, creeping in like an invasive species. That was the problem, Payton was…infectious. He’d already invaded Boone’s head, now he was heading straight for his heart.Archer laughed, standing. “Well you better figure it out quickly before you wake up married to a deviant little psychopath with a violent streak, a trust fund, and a shopping addiction. It happens to even the most vigilant of us.”Boone hated how much he didn’t hate the idea.Fuck.