"The desire for gold is not for gold. It is for the means of freedom and benefit."-Ralph Waldo Emerson
Mail Jeevas was trouble and everyone knew it. When he strode down the hallways he received a spirited combination of dilated bedroom eyes and cautious averted gazes from male and female students alike. He was the warm thrusting body in everyone's bed, the infamous dealer of everyone's little white pills, and the inconspicuously whispered name on everyone's lips.
Mail Jeevas was the type of student who came in late, smelling of decaying ashes and rough sex. He was the type of young man who stuck his pierced tongue out with insolence and swore loudly in class. He was the type of kid that rode an obnoxious motorbike and tramped in with his shiny helmet in hand. He was the type of student who managed to make nearly perfect marks on every single test without ever wasting his time on the reading. He'd made the highest score ever recorded on the entrance exam despite having the poorest attendance and muddiest disciplinary record of any student who had ever attended Wammy Preparatory School.
In general, the faculty held a grudging admiration for Mail. The female instructors regarded him with masked sympathy and repressed infatuation. The male instructors tried and failed to assert some semblance of authority. Many of the educators found it difficult to hate their best student even if he happened to lack a great deal of moral character.
There was only one individual who was capable of providing unfailing penalties in response Mail's mischievous antics, and that was Headmaster Mihael Keehl.
Standing under a marbled ivory column, Mail blew hot rings of wispy smoke out of his rotting adolescent lungs. His lanky posture was rebellious, his pink mouth was pursued, and his navy uniform tie was purposefully askew. He lazily opened and closed his pools of melted emerald as he adjusted to the blushing morning light. Last night had been a blur of sweaty intercourse, toxic oral substances, and dim bar smoke. Now daylight illuminated and burned the atmosphere to pearly, sun-drenched air.
As Mail surveyed his smoldering cigarette patterns slither like tainting gray vipers across the trimmed floral lawns he felt his chest swell with familiar revulsion. He hated this seminary, with its majestic castle towers and classrooms built exclusively for the purpose of elite education. He hated his fellow students, who were composed of immaculately manicured fingernails and effortlessly coifed cowlicks. But he especially hated a certain faculty member with braided cornsilk hair and striking cobalt eyes.
Headmaster Keehl got under Mail's skin in the worst way.
Mail could feel the large, calloused hands gently clutching onto his elbow, grasping his shoulder; mildly pressing on his back. The Headmaster's touch was always excruciatingly gentle and infuriatingly appropriate. Even when he was plainly exasperated with Mail he never inflicted any physical harm.
Mail Jeevas wanted the Headmaster to be rough with him.
He wanted the calm grip to shift to something more feral. He wanted his joints crudely popped and his lungs to be ferociously compressed with muscled weight. Mail wanted the golden man to brutally bruise him black and blue.
But he knew that would never happen.
Headmaster Keehl was simply too honorable; too fucking golden to ever be led astray.
It sickened him.
He could hear the calm, honeyed voice slowly detailing his punishments. He could see the perfect jaw spread generously in an expression of neutral patience. He could smell the unmistakable aroma of musky sandalwood cologne. He imagined himself being violently plunged into the cerulean pools that were Headmaster Keehl's eyes.
Mail released another frustrated puff of nicotine.
It didn't seem to matter how much he swore, or how much smoke he blew, or how many suggestive attempts he made, or even how physically aggressive he was. Headmaster Keehl was tolerant enough to be a bloody saint. He never seemed irked, never appeared irritated; never showed a single fissure in his impassive porcelain face. Mail Jeevas was tarnished copper and Headmaster Keehl was polished gold.
There was no way Mail could ever touch him.
So instead, he behaved the worst he possibly could. He stole lace panties, he shattered glass, he spat word vomit, and he physically battered anyone who irritated him without hesitation. He made sure that he was always tardy, disheveled, and crass. Mail would commit any misconduct without a second thought just to get an appointment to see that perfect face. If he couldn't have Headmaster Keehl's body or mind he at least wanted his fucking attention.
Approximately an hour later, Mail sauntered through the ornamental doors of the disciplinary ward. He'd just come from a scintillating meeting with the Dean who'd explained to him in a fuming tone why arson crimes were depraved and not of Christ. Now his delinquency had earned him a meeting with Headmaster Keehl himself.
Mail made sure his tie was twisted. He hastily unbuttoned the top button of his white dress shirt. He mussed his red locks. He smeared the remaining coal ashes from his hands onto his cheeks.
Then he took a breath and turned the silver door handle.
The familiar office was incredibly spacious and the enormous crystal windows allowed sunlight to pour in like liquid. The stilted furniture was tastefully old fashioned. A thick leather bible was heavily perched on a small wooden podium. Portraits of honor students smiled out from the bleached walls. Everything was bathed in pulsing golden sunlight. A shifting movement caught Mail's eye and he had to swallow to suppress a wave of sensory appreciation.
Headmaster Keehl turned from his massive desk to face Mail with a gilded brow. He was wearing a stiff cotton shirt and khaki slacks. A shining cross glinted at his throat. His brass frames were perched in a dignified manner on top of his sculpted nose. Lengthy blond tresses were pulled back into an elegant, masculine braid.
He'd never looked more like an angel.
The Headmaster motioned for Mail to take a seat. His serene oceans met Mail's tangled woodlands in a tranquil measured gaze. Something in his eyes seemed incongruent with his usual self, but Mail chose to ignore it. He propped up his brown loafers and provided his most audacious smirk. The Headmaster's lip quirked in an unreadable manner. He leaned forward to speak.
"So tell me Mr. Jeevas, what exactly is the incentive behind this sin?"
That was certainly unforeseen.
Headmaster Keehl never asked him questions. That would require a considerable investment of mental energy, and the Headmaster was far too aloof to engage him of all people. Customarily, Headmaster Keehl recited Mail's wrongdoings in detail and steadily lectured him on the implication of being a Catholic student. This had the potential to be something else entirely. Maybe Headmaster Keehl was just changing up his phrasing a bit in an attempt to make an impression. Or maybe, after years of effort he'd succeeded in eroding that solid gold-plated finish. Mail couldn't suppress the full on sneer that threatened to rip the corners of his sweet mouth.
"Honestly, I was bored. I wanted to ruin something so I lit the Saint Mary tapestry on fire with my lighter. It was beautiful when it burned; don't you think so?"
The gold brows fiercely arched in blatant aggravation, but Headmaster Keehl managed to keep the rest of his face still. This was the first time in years that Mail had ever coaxed any sort of reaction from the infuriating stoical priest. Mail felt his body temperature begin to escalate with the raw thrill of testing the Headmaster's limits. He wondered just how far he could push this.
"In fact, I love to deface possessions. Floras, animals, material belongings…but my favorite things to ruin are people. I love to cause chaos and turmoil for everyone around me."
Headmaster Keehl clasped his desk in a highly undignified manner. His nostrils flared and visible crimson heat climbed his high cheekbones. Mail knew he had to be close to cracking the peaceable façade.
"Breaking souls is the most entertaining. They splinter just like glass."
Mail spread his straight, lustrous teeth into a razor sharp grin. He met Headmaster Keehl's glittering stare.
"Headmaster, why aren't you saying anythi-"
Mail let out a startled inhale as he was abruptly gripped by his collar. Headmaster Keehl loomed over him, and for the first time his forgiving eyes were cruelly morphed into something sharper. Muscled arms firmly gripped his shoulders and haphazardly lifted him up onto the grainy surface of the desk with a brutal thump.
Mail couldn't believe what was happening; it was like a living excerpt from one of his most beautiful nightmares.
The Headmaster's usually bright appearance was clouded with stormy agitation and he seemed almost too enraged to communicate. He bent down to his knees and placed himself between Mail's long legs. He imposed a tight grip on Mail's wrists and pressed his forehead into Mail's throbbing chest. He glanced up at the redhead with a passionately charged countenance. Mail was shocked to see emerging drops of saltwater forming underneath the Headmaster's furious glare. His voice sounded hoarse when he spoke.
"Mail, you must explain this to me. I have never seen such an intelligent student who wasted their aptitude like this. For years, I have observed your elite academic performance. I have patiently disciplined you in the only manner I know how to. I am aware that you are quite capable. So why? Why do you continue commit these purposeful sins? I demand you tell me what is really going on!"
Mail nervously licked his lips. He'd always assumed that the Headmaster thought less than nothing of him. He figured that he hadn't made even the slightest impression; positive or negative. But now he realized the havoc he'd been causing Headmaster Keehl throughout his entire enrollment. He'd believed that he'd been stoking a minuscule, orange ember for years but it turned out to be a full on rubicund blaze. Mail writhed with several types of frustration under the Headmaster's silken grip. He supposed that it was now or never.
"I only act this way because of you. I want you."
The color seemed to drain from Headmaster Keehl's face like red liquid being sucked through a transparent straw.
"You-"
"I've wanted you this whole fucking time. I want your attention. I want your body. I want you to fill your thoughts with me the way I've always done for you."
"Mail, I…"
"You are the most untouched person I've ever met and I want a piece of you! Give me part of you, just once. I promise I'll stop all of my misconduct and repent for my sins. I will be the student you've always wanted me to be. I'll be golden."
Mail closed his eyes and braced himself for poisonous words or even a corporeal reprimand.
Such punishment never came.
Instead, padded fingertips lightly traced his flaming cheeks. He cautiously opened his eyes to find himself staring at a vehemently tender Headmaster Keehl. The unspoiled gilded sunlight illuminated both of them, and Mail couldn't help the tears that slipped in wet rivulets down his cheeks. Something fragile inside of both males was cracking and leaking beautifully.
Headmaster Keehl could see that in spite of his mature activities Mail Jeevas really was just a boy. A freckled lost boy who somehow got tangled in the most intricate and deadly webs. Mail Jeevas was a misguided soul hopelessly seeking light in a darkly obscure existence. Fortunately, his pursuit was no longer necessary. It was now clear to Headmaster Keehl that Mail was truly lovely; and always had been.
Mail's eyes widened as Headmaster Keehl gracefully cupped his cross and slid it over his blouse. His hands slipped into Mail's sweaty palms with an entirely different type of reassurance. The boy still couldn't quite end his tears, and he made pathetic snuffling noises in an attempt to stifle his cries. A small smile touched the Headmaster's mouth. When he wasn't swearing or causing a ruckus, Mail was actually rather precious. He pressed a deceptively chaste kiss to the boy's brow.
"Shhhhhhh…"
The hushed whisper made the hairs on the back of Mail's neck stand up in the most inappropriate fashion. The undertone was soothing enough to stop his distress, but it was laced with a more primal urge than emotional comfort. Mail swallowed thickly and met the Headmaster's gaze.
Headmaster Keehl sensed the adjustment in Mail's aura and slowly begin to unbutton his pressed school shirt. His nimble fingers slipped inside and he pinched Mail's pert nipples until they were tortured rosy buds. Pausing to inhale the redhead's sweetness, he wetly mouthed Mail's throbbing pulse until the boy's throat was littered with an arrangement of possessive hickies. Mail effortlessly caved under the Headmaster's erotic ministrations. His cheeks burned red at the helpless whimpers and needy gasps that spilled from his lips. For once in his life, he felt as if he was getting everything he ever wanted.
The blemished gold burned him beautifully.
The Headmaster's touch seemed to scorch every patch of soft skin on Mail's body and the building heat inside threatened to consume him entirely. He urgently tried to form a coherent sentence.
"Headmaster, you're…I want…please, I'm-"
"Allow me."
Mail had to close his eyes to keep himself from instantly coming apart at the Headmaster's buttery tone of unconcealed lust. Obviously he wasn't the only one who wanted this badly. Through a haze of desire Mail could feel his body being coaxed backwards onto the desk. His pants were being pulled down and his knees were being crudely spread apart. Icy air teased him from the waist down. Skilled fingers were prying into his most private places and he was willingly yielding for them. Mail's eyes rolled into his head as his prostate was stimulated from the inside. His body glistened with sweat.
He was basking in blazing, blinding sunshine.
As he rose deliberately above him, Headmaster Keehl resembled a majestic lion. His halo of hair glowed blindingly above his head and his kind face was painted with yearning. He positioned himself against Mail's midriff and gave the boy a look of slight apprehension. His eyes moved to his discarded cross, then back to the waiting boy beneath him. Mail cracked one of his characteristically maddening grins.
"Don't disappointment me, Headmaster Keehl."
Mail's customary impudence was immediately encouraging, and all of Headmaster Keehl's previous qualms evaporated. With the issues of morality and consent resolved all he had left was unabashed sexual need. He shamelessly gripped Mail's thin waist with voluptuous desire and panted hotly into the boy's ear.
"Prepare yourself, Mr. Jeevas."
Mail swallowed a choked gasp as Headmaster Keehl's thick length mercilessly split him open. Unbelievable pressure, piercing agony, scorching heat, indescribable craving. When the Headmaster's swollen tip rubbed his sweet spot he hyperventilated urgently and rocked his lithe hips like a whore.
So fucking good, such a huge cock, just like that, the best he'd ever had. Mail realized he was chanting these obscenities aloud in a soft, rhythmic murmur. Headmaster Keehl slid inside to the hilt, intensifying the physical bliss for both of them. Mail could feel his delicate, suckling walls being stretched to the absolute limit. He knew the grip of his ass on Headmaster Keehl's cock must be sinfully constricted and a heated snarl of pleasure confirmed his suspicions.
"Yes, fuck yes…"
Mail's white, freckled knuckles helplessly scrabbled against grainy wood as he was violently scrubbed across Headmaster Keehl's desk. Typed documents pricked his naked sides and fluttered around like clusters of white paper butterflies. Vivid colors erratically faded and blossomed. Sound buzzed like bees, warped like radio waves; fizzed like a carbonated soft drink. The boisterous chatter of other students juxtaposed with the perverse slapping sounds of a private carnal flesh exchange.
"Ah-ahhh-ahhhmmm!"
Mail was having a difficult time keeping his voice down as the tempo of their agitated intercourse was amplified. Headmaster Keehl forced two warm fingers inside his mouth to muffle his loud erogenous cries. Wet sloppy sounds came from his anus as he was ridden with deliciously bruising force. He struggled to comply with the Headmaster's demands to keep his sea green eyes open and his quaking thighs spread wide.
Headmaster Keehl let out measured pants and low groans of exertion as he thoroughly plowed the boy's insides. His rippling muscles strained underneath his soaked transparent button down as he exerted himself. Never in his twenty eight years of religious devotion had he ever imagined participating in something like this; yet here he was, eagerly sharing a highly forbidden act and enjoying it immensely. As Mail choked slightly around the intrusion of his moist fingers, he felt his chest vibrate involuntarily with content purrs of previously suppressed dominant desire. Mail's entrance was viciously throttling his pulsing member and he was struggling to keep ravaging inside the boy at a steady pace that pleased both of them. The redhead's vulnerable muffled hisses every time he was filled to capacity only fueled the Headmaster's fire.
Mail's entire system felt connected to a live, unstable wire and he physically shook with sensual overkill. He urgently attempted a shaky touch the core of his need, but Headmaster Keehl grasped it for him and began pumping it in measured strokes. It was too good, too intense, and too painful to last. With a soft cry, Headmaster Keehl spurted his hot cream deep inside Mail's bowels and the boy shot his own load on top of his muscled stomach.
A number of moments later Mail groggily watched Headmaster Keehl zip his trousers up with slightly unstable fingers. He rubbed his own trembling hands against the golden man's smooth cheeks to calm him as they both dressed. Headmaster Keehl hummed gently at the contact and kissed Mail's eyelids affectionately. Mail slid the cross back onto Headmaster Keehl's neck and they exchanged a long look of mutual understanding. The two of them had each given away a portion of themselves and gratefully accepted a piece of each other.
Sin and repentance, virtue and malevolence, covetousness and adoration. All of them were now intermingled and transformed; embellished by copper and purified by gold. Neither male would ever be the same.
"I love you."
"I've always loved you."
"We have time, don't we?"
"Of course we do."
"Promise you'll wait for me."
"Always."
The sun set in a distant haze of ginger and auburn light tinted the area a romantic shade of peach.
Mail kissed Headmaster Keehl with a fervently desperate passion. He clutched at the priest's collar and soiled his shirt with salty excretions. Glancing up at the golden man, he felt a stab of pain at the complicated expression of longing reflected on the Headmaster's expressive face. Mail's chest threatened to burst. It saddened him that it would be a lifetime before he could feel the sturdy arms the same way again and he would no longer have an excuse to visit this room any longer.
The entirety of Mail Jeevas's existence was wilting and blossoming all at once in a manner that he had no form of control over and it was all because of Headmaster Keehl.
Mail prayed for a slower sunset and buried his face into Headmaster Keehl's rising and falling breaths. He felt the warmth on his back, the warmth from the cherished body in front of him and the warmth from his own fledgling heart. He had to fight the feeling of cold emptiness when the Headmaster finally retracted from his touch and regarded him with full eyes of knowing acceptance. Gradually, Mail stumbled out of the fading office and looked back at the graceful figure waving through a blinding outline of copper. It was time for him to shed his tarnished soul in exchange for something much brighter. Love had illuminated him into the honorable being that he truly was and he knew that when the time was right he would reunite with the golden source of his spiritual birth. Until then, reality was waiting patiently for him, and now he had no desire to disappoint.
So Mail Jeevas walked outside into the light and willingly surrendered himself in body, mind, and spirit to the glittering presence of gold.