Summary: Killian Jones is the new head of St. Catherine's Catholic church and private school, his very first priesthood job out of seminary school. When naughty student Emma Swan sets her sights on him, will he be able to restrain himself or will he give into temptation?

AN: The inspiration for the fic came from the song "Heaven Knows" and "Going to Hell" by The Pretty Reckless. A fair note please don't picture Mary Margaret as the sister, I just used the name not the person. I've wanted to write a priest!Killian AU for so long and now I finally have! I'm really excited about it! I haven't decided how long this is going to be yet, so bear with me. A big shout out to Nicki, oncertwice for helping to motivate me to write this. All of this smut is dedicated to Haleigh, onceuponajollyroger. This is also un-beta', sorry for any mistakes there may or may not be. Enjoy!

Forbidden Fruit of the Juiciest Kind

A Priest!Killian Captain Swan AU

PART ONE

When the students of St. Catherine's first found out that the head of the church was stepping down and being replaced by a much younger Priest the whole school was buzzing with the news, scrambling, some even going as far as to imagine what that person may look like, sound like, be like… None of them were prepared for the first day that Father Jones made his appearance.

Along with being head of the church, Father Jones would also be heading up the catholic school that was held within the church's walls. Quite a gigantic undertaking for such a new man of the cloth. St. Catherine's did not have the best reputation when it came to its students so it didn't come as much of a surprise when Father Carmine stepped down from the position at the ripe old age of 65. The student body made up of 150 kids from grades one through twelve were looking forward to meeting the pushover they hired to wrangle them. None of them were expecting their newest priest and principal to come in the form of a 32 year old Greek god…

"Father Jones, this is our twelve grade class…" the sister announced, gaining the attention from the class as the pair walked into the classroom during their tour of the school.

"Welcome Father Jones, such a pleasure to have you here with us. I speak for myself and all of the other Sister's here that it's truly an honor to have you here," their teacher, Sister Mary Margaret greeted him with a firm and awkward hand shake sending the class of fifteen into stitches at the sight of their celibate teacher falling over herself because of the attractive priest.

"Thank you Sister…?"

"Mary Margaret," she told him, her cheeks flushing slightly at the attentions she was giving Father Jones who had done absolutely nothing to warrant them.

"May I have my hand back please Sister?" Father Jones asked awkwardly, turning to the students, his face going red with embarrassment as they looked on.

"Oh my! So sorry Father…" she pulled her hand away.

"It's no problem…" he dismissed, covertly wiping his now sweaty palm on his slacks, hoping that no one noticed.

Emma Swan took one last drag of her cigarette, throwing it to the ground and stomping it out with the heel of her combat boot. Emma let out a long sigh, pushing off from the brick wall of the school building that concealed her nicely when she needed a smoke break. Today was the day they were to meet Father Jones, most likely another crusty old white guy with a superiority complex and bad breath. She was in no rush to be introduced to him. Emma shifted her back onto her shoulder, taking out a piece of gum from a small interior pocket and put a piece of it in her mouth to chase away the obvious smell of the cigarette on her breath before heading to class.

"Miss Swan, so glad you could join us this morning…" Emma smirked at the voice of Sister Mary Margaret, the door slamming shut behind her, all eyes on Emma including a set of steel blue eyes the color of the ocean covered by long dark lashes belonging to that of a man wearing grey slacks, a black sweater vest over a button up clerical shirt made of the same shade of boring grey, a clerical collar tucked into it. Emma's mouth opened and closed quickly, trying to hide her surprise but hardly able to do so. The man couldn't be more than 30, with an appearance that could only be described as raw sex; dark features, slight muscular build, a dark slightly disheveled mop of hair on his head and a light dusting of facial hair running down from his side burns onto his cheeks and around his mouth that held pale pink lips so lusciously soft that she found herself fighting against the sinful images of just what he could do with that beautiful mouth of his which begged the question: why the hell did he commit himself to a life of chastity serving the man who may or may not even exist upstairs? A man that good looking had no business being kept away from the more carnal pleasures the world had to offer. He had to be gay. There was absolutely no way that this perfect male specimen chose this life on purpose. Emma allowed herself a moment to indulge in his very unfair overly-sexual presence, her tongue instinctively poking out of her lips to seductively wet them, her legs clenching together as the proof of her arousal made itself known. She had picked the worst day to go without panties.

"Please, by all means Miss Swan don't let me impede on your day dreams…" the sound of Sister Mary Margaret breaking through her thoughts, her faint red blush tinting her cheeks with embarrassment, "take a seat…" the horrid woman screeched like a bat at her.

"A real trouble maker that one is sir…" she cautioned as Emma passed them at the front of the classroom on the way to her seat, giving the good Father a delectable view of her ass as she sashayed to her desk, her long painted fingernails scraping against the table top before sliding into her assigned seat.

"Thank you, as I was saying earlier before we were so rudely interrupted, this is Father Jones and he has been assigned to St. Catherine's after Father Carmine retired," she introduced to the class.

"Everyone knows he was forced out," a voice muttered from somewhere in the classroom, the teacher scanning for the source angrily with a scowl, the class laughing at her expense.

"Father, why don't you introduce yourself to the class…" she suggested with the flourish of her wrinkly hand, Emma nearly puking in her mouth at the long white hairs and warts visible on the tops of them. Sister Mary Margaret was a frigid dried up old hag with a temper and a desperate need for a stiff one. She had no business dealing with the Lord or children for that matter.

"Thank you Sister," he said graciously, taking the spot at the head of the class to address them, Sister Mary Margaret standing idly by off to the side watching, "as the Sister said, I'm Father Jones, I was offered the job of the priesthood of this facility by Father Carmine himself who saw a great potential in me, for which I will be forever grateful for and recruited me straight out of seminary school," he explained, pausing when a student raised their hand to ask a question, "yes?" he pointed towards the student giving them permission to speak.

"So you're a fairly new priest then…?" a female student asked shyly, no doubt intimidated by Father Jones's handsome presence as he gave her a stern nod in response, "why did you become a priest?" she asked curiously.

"Abigail!" Sister Mary Margaret reprimanded, snapping her head towards the girl, "that was rather rude…"

"It's fine Sister…" he held up a hand to halt her actions with the soothing lilt of his voice, his accent making Emma melt in her chair. An accent too? Is this guy even real?

"I joined the clergy after I lost my wife of three years. At the time I was very depressed and searching for faith and it came to me in the form of joining the priesthood. It helped me in more ways than I could have ever imagined. It was easy to leave my previous life behind, I had nothing left. I don't know where I would be today without our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ," he remembered fondly, without a trace of sadness in his tone. He was straight, that much she was sure of and he was no longer morning his late wife, she guessed that more than just time healed the wounds of her passing. It didn't change the fact that it was terribly illegal and wrong to want this man with a burning passion but it didn't hurt to look at him… think about him… touch herself to the thought of him… Emma eyed his groin that was prominently on display in front of her, spreading her legs apart to hike up her skirt underneath her desk, her hands trailing up the creamy skin of her inner thighs as he continued to talk, his sexy lilting voice spurring her actions on further. Emma let out a sigh of contentment as her fingers grazed the wet silken folds of her sex, her own hand a poor substitution for what her body craved as her fingers glided gently against the moist cleft of her swollen clit, her eyes never leaving his, his voice drifting in out of her ears as she pleasured herself to him. Emma chewed on her bottom lip as she dipped two fingers inside of herself, pumping them in and out of herself as she continued to work at her clit with her thumb. Her head fell back against the assault when her fingers found the sweet spot inside of her, making her keen quietly, biting her lower lip fiercely to stifle the moans that threatened to spill forth. She could only imagine what dear Father Jones thought of her display, if he was even watching… Who was she kidding? She could feel his eyes on her. Emma wriggled in her seat on the brink of her climax, Father Jones unable to take his eyes off of her, his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip as he watched her fall apart. He couldn't find it in himself to look away, even though he knew he should. He was surely going to hell for this… she couldn't be more than 17… God, please be 17… Emma continued her pornographic sex act, bringing her head down against her desk to muffle her cries of ecstasy. Father Jones's expression was priceless, his eyes widening, his dark eyebrows shooting up into his hair line, inwardly groaning to himself. Emma picked herself up from the desk, panting, her hand going to wipe the drool gathering at the corner of her mouth, her blonde curls sticking slightly to her sweaty forehead, her face flushed with her climax. Father Jones had never seen a more erotic sight before. Keep it together Jones. Emma flashed him a knowing smirk, smacking the gum that sat in her mouth. She knew! She knew he had watched her! He was in deep shit, this girl was going to be the death of him.

AN: Thank you so much for reading! This is only the beginning, it is far from over. Currently I'm anticipating this to be a short multi-chapter fanfiction with a couple of parts to it. Probably no more than 6. We will see if that changes. Review are always helpful and very much appreciated. I don't know when the next update will be, bear with me. Thank you for reading!