(no subject)
Title: The Ties That Bind
Pairing: Jepha/OFC
Rating: nc17
Wordcount: 2224
Series: Slantverse
Summary: Jepha witnesses the formation of a relationship at school before going home to his girlfriend.
Prompt used: pegging for kink_bingo
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
Jepha loves being a guidance counsellor. He likes to see teens when they’re falling apart so he can stitch them into a whole again, or at least figure out what they need for that to be possible. Helping teenagers make a handful of their fundamental life choices is also a shining star of his job. He’s not the sex ed teacher at Timmons. Some high schools combine the two, and schools with even smaller budgets just have the gym teacher or another staff volunteer do it. Thankfully this district knows the importance of keeping the jobs separate. Still, it became clear about two days into the job that he’s essentially the problem solving teacher, and the primary issues of the teen fourteen to eighteen are universities, drama with friends, drama with parents, drama with their sub or dom, and questions about slants. Jepha does his best to direct the last to Mrs Aguilera, but if a kid is breaking down in his office because he likes having sex against trees and is that weird Jepha’s not going to send them away.
It’s not always people coming in to him in his office. Sometimes a kid has a panic attack and needs to be escorted away from a test. Jepha understands high achievers -tries to understand everyone- but wishes they wouldn’t make their lives so hard. Or sometimes a dom snaps after being reprimanded in class, feeling they’ve been treated beneath their worth. There have even been times where he has to meet a teen’s parents in their home, if the dom has specific rules about where and when the sub can go.
This time Brian calls him to his office. He meets Jepha outside it, signalling there’s a larger issue that Jepha needs to be prepared for. The thick doors are essentially soundproof for when they have to discuss strategy for a difficult parent. “Frank Iero and Matt Cortez had a fistfight.”
Jepha blinks. “But they both swung?” He hopes. If they didn’t they’ll have to call the cops.
“Yes. Frank started it but Matt most assuredly finished it. But they won’t tell me reasons. I don’t know if it was a violence thing or a sex thing.”
“Does it really matter? You have to discipline then either way.”
“Yes but to be perfectly honest-”
“Wouldn’t ask for anything less,” he interrupts with a smile. Brian’s not exactly the most subtle person.
“I’ll have to make a bigger fuss if it’s a slant thing. You know we can’t have sex in school.”
Jepha very carefully doesn’t think of Jimmy’s side business in the basement. What isn’t reported can’t hurt anyone. For a few of the students at Timmons it’s the only outlet they have.
“Two sided violence and I just have to phone their parents. Foreplay and I have to have another goddamn assembly about sex life and educational life being completely different.” Brian stops pinching the bridge of his nose to gesture at the door. “You’re the nice guy with the big smile, make them tell you. Figure that shit out. It’s what I pay you for.”
It takes about thirty seconds to figure out it’s a sex thing. He doesn’t walk in on them making out, although that’s happened a few times in his tenure. It’s just obvious, there’s a thread between them. He can’t help but wonder how Brian missed it. He probably doesn’t see students as sexual beings with slants. He can afford to ignore that, in fact it’s probably better if he does. Jepha can’t do the same.
Each are sitting straight up, limbs rigid, agitation running through them clear as day. They both have split lips, but the boy in the red shirt has matching pinked skin. Jepha doesn’t need eye witness reports to know he got beat down hard, and he doesn’t need to ask to know they both feel strongly about it. He doesn’t think the emotions running under their skin are just from being interrupted mid-scene either, though he doesn’t enquire. Neither seem the type that want to unburden their souls through talking. Jepha’s been working long enough, been a human on Earth long enough to know that some people are just full of tension that explodes out in one way or another, and no amount of talk can help.
Still, they have to say their lines. He tells them they can’t scene actively at school. They tell him some line about not meaning to. Jepha almost believes them, but it doesn’t matter. He still needs to tell Brian and watch him put his principal Schechter hat on. The transformation would be magical if he hadn’t seen it a thousand times over the years.
The rest of the day is more typical. A few issues about friends, a panic attack, a girl who’s getting shit from her friends for having two subs. Jepha listens to what they say, and tries to hear what they don’t, and hopes that the solutions he helps them patch together will work.
It’s a good day, but the best part of any day is going home. How can it not be, when Lisa is at home? He doesn’t have any after school meetings, so as the bell rings and the students dash out, Jepha follows them. Hell, he almost blends in. He’s shorter than half the male students.
After parking the car he knocks on their front door. A moment later she answers it. He’s not sure what he would do if she didn’t. Probably sit on the step and wait. He has a key for the few times he comes home to an empty house, but that’s different. Lisa’s still in her work clothes, she only gets home a half hour before he does. Just looking at her makes him smile. She’s perfection, and he’s hers. Which means sometimes he can be perfect too.
He follows her inside and puts his bag on the mat. Without gravity working with it, half the shit inside will probably fall out as the flimsy sides collapse, leaving him to grumble the next morning when he has to pick it all up. Every morning he thinks about getting a few hooks for the wall. Every evening he’s in such a hurry to get home that purchase hooks could be tattooed into his skin and he would still forget.
“Have you been good today?”
With the first of her questions, he can feel the thing inside himself settling. Not every professional has a slant directly opposing their job requirements, the daycare worker that needs a Daddy is just as much of a television trope as the butcher that likes bloodplay. But Jepha doesn’t care if he’s a cliche. It works for him. He spends most of the day asking probing questions and listening for answers, and then he goes home to Lisa and answers everything without hesitation.
“Yes.”
“You always say yes. Give me an example.”
He owes the teens their privacy, but his duty to his dom is to do what she asks. It’s a line doctors, lawyers, and therapists everywhere have to worry about. Legal and moral requirements do not always align perfectly with relationship requirements. “I helped a boy decide pursuing his wanted major of sociology was more important than his parents demanding a useful trade. He’s putting together essays now.”
“That’s pretty good.” She puts her pinky in his gauge and pulls. He keeps his head still. “Do you think it’s good enough?”
Always answer questions, even when you don’t know the answer. “I don’t know what it is. What the scale is.”
“Good answer.” She smiles, and it’s an intravenous injection of pride. “Collecting all the facts, anyone ever tell you you’re brilliant? For my cock Jepha. Have you been good enough for my cock?”
There are only two answers. “Yes.”
“Confidence. Oh, aren’t you full of good personality traits. I like that answer too. Bench.”
Jepha throws his clothes onto the couch as he goes. A one word sentence with a location always means be there naked.
The bench is beautiful. Back when he was a poor college student it was the only flat surface larger than a textbook in his apartment, lumpy and stained couch/bed not counting. His countertops were non-existent, but he had his bench. He probably would have punched someone if they’d tried to make a meal off it.
“On your back.” He complies immediately. Lisa isn’t the type to deny sex if he doesn’t move fast enough, but his want is making him eager. The vinyl is cool against his skin, but he knows how sweetly warm it’ll get soon.
“I’m tying you down. And then I am fucking you.”
He watches her strip off her clothes. Unlike him she hangs her pants to wear again, and tosses her shirt in the laundry basket. Nude, she opens one of the drawers in the toy dresser and gazes in. Her back is to him, but Jepha’s sure she’s biting her upper lip as she thinks. The combination she picks is one of his favourites, the clear vinyl harness with the six incher that matches her skin tone perfectly. Usually they don’t mix intoxicants with play, but if he was stoned he wouldn’t even be able to tell it wasn’t her flesh. That’s how perfectly it blends.
Straining his neck, he can see her spit on her hand and start stroking her cock. Her eyes flutter closed like she can feel it. He doesn’t grab his dick. He wants to, and she hasn’t told him not to, but she hasn’t told him to either. He wants to be good.
She leaves the room and comes back with grape licorice rope. He doesn’t say anything -there’s no reason to, she hasn’t asked a question- but eyes it with interest. He hopes she’s about to do what he thinks she’s going to.
Lisa sits on his thighs, tip of her cock brushing against him. She grabs his hand and Jepha gives it easily. She rests it flat on the vinyl and ties his wrist loosely to the closest of the rings running the side of the bench. The licorice is still room temperature, not sticky yet. She does the other wrist, then crawls up the bench, careful to not rest her knees anywhere that puts stress on the rope. A longer piece goes through each gauge, tying his head to the uppermost rings.
“You’re gonna be so still for me. You can scream, and you can cry, but don’t you dare move.”
He knows how fragile the rope is. He’s eaten it more times than he can count, it’s just about his favourite candy. And he still can’t help but twitch when two lubed fingers slide into his ass with no warning.
“I don’t have to explain what happens if they break, do I?”
“No,” he answers. If any of the pieces of licorice break, she’ll stop. She’ll kneel at the end of the bench and reach under her cock and get herself off while he strains his eyes to catch as much as he can in his peripheral vision. Or maybe she’ll kneel over his face and he’ll get to watch her wetness drooling down her leg. But she’ll stop fucking him, and she’ll come and he won’t.
She hasn’t tied his legs, so when she enters him Jepha can at least arch his feet and curl his toes. But it’s not enough, not when he can’t thrash his head or throw his arm over his eyes. Lisa doesn’t fuck him every day, but when they’re doing this he thinks she could do it twenty times a day every day for the rest of his life and he wouldn’t get sick of it. It wouldn’t be much of a rest of his life, he would pass out and die long before his seventies, but it would be a brilliant way to go. It’s just so goddamn exquisite.
When they started she used to have a timer to make sure she didn’t fuck him for too long. Now she’d only use it to set challenges for him, different lengths of time given for him to come before she took away that right. Tonight he doesn’t need a timer. Not being able to move is making everything worse-better-worse-better, harder-realer-just intense, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can stand this.
Lisa’s rhythm stutters for a minute, and he knows she’s come. He wants to reach and feel the way her cunt is quivering, or at least touch her lips and jawline. But he can’t, because it’ll break the strings and if she stops moving her cock inside him, he might die.
Once she picks up the motion again, she doesn’t stop until Jepha’s shuddering his release, shakes of his stomach and hips that he tries to not let carry up his body or down his arms. She pulls out while he’s shaking and fingers the rim of his asshole once before pulling her fingers away too.
“Please undo the ropes so I can kiss you.”
“Okay.” She bites through either curled around his wrist, then shimmies up the bench for the other two. Once he’s free she lies on top of him for a kiss. She tastes like grape.
Pairing: Jepha/OFC
Rating: nc17
Wordcount: 2224
Series: Slantverse
Summary: Jepha witnesses the formation of a relationship at school before going home to his girlfriend.
Prompt used: pegging for kink_bingo
Disclaimer: This is a non-profit, non-commercial work of fiction using the names and likenesses of real individuals. This fictional story is not intended to imply that the events herein actually occurred or that the attitudes or behaviors described are engaged in or condoned by the real persons whose names are used without permission.
Jepha loves being a guidance counsellor. He likes to see teens when they’re falling apart so he can stitch them into a whole again, or at least figure out what they need for that to be possible. Helping teenagers make a handful of their fundamental life choices is also a shining star of his job. He’s not the sex ed teacher at Timmons. Some high schools combine the two, and schools with even smaller budgets just have the gym teacher or another staff volunteer do it. Thankfully this district knows the importance of keeping the jobs separate. Still, it became clear about two days into the job that he’s essentially the problem solving teacher, and the primary issues of the teen fourteen to eighteen are universities, drama with friends, drama with parents, drama with their sub or dom, and questions about slants. Jepha does his best to direct the last to Mrs Aguilera, but if a kid is breaking down in his office because he likes having sex against trees and is that weird Jepha’s not going to send them away.
It’s not always people coming in to him in his office. Sometimes a kid has a panic attack and needs to be escorted away from a test. Jepha understands high achievers -tries to understand everyone- but wishes they wouldn’t make their lives so hard. Or sometimes a dom snaps after being reprimanded in class, feeling they’ve been treated beneath their worth. There have even been times where he has to meet a teen’s parents in their home, if the dom has specific rules about where and when the sub can go.
This time Brian calls him to his office. He meets Jepha outside it, signalling there’s a larger issue that Jepha needs to be prepared for. The thick doors are essentially soundproof for when they have to discuss strategy for a difficult parent. “Frank Iero and Matt Cortez had a fistfight.”
Jepha blinks. “But they both swung?” He hopes. If they didn’t they’ll have to call the cops.
“Yes. Frank started it but Matt most assuredly finished it. But they won’t tell me reasons. I don’t know if it was a violence thing or a sex thing.”
“Does it really matter? You have to discipline then either way.”
“Yes but to be perfectly honest-”
“Wouldn’t ask for anything less,” he interrupts with a smile. Brian’s not exactly the most subtle person.
“I’ll have to make a bigger fuss if it’s a slant thing. You know we can’t have sex in school.”
Jepha very carefully doesn’t think of Jimmy’s side business in the basement. What isn’t reported can’t hurt anyone. For a few of the students at Timmons it’s the only outlet they have.
“Two sided violence and I just have to phone their parents. Foreplay and I have to have another goddamn assembly about sex life and educational life being completely different.” Brian stops pinching the bridge of his nose to gesture at the door. “You’re the nice guy with the big smile, make them tell you. Figure that shit out. It’s what I pay you for.”
It takes about thirty seconds to figure out it’s a sex thing. He doesn’t walk in on them making out, although that’s happened a few times in his tenure. It’s just obvious, there’s a thread between them. He can’t help but wonder how Brian missed it. He probably doesn’t see students as sexual beings with slants. He can afford to ignore that, in fact it’s probably better if he does. Jepha can’t do the same.
Each are sitting straight up, limbs rigid, agitation running through them clear as day. They both have split lips, but the boy in the red shirt has matching pinked skin. Jepha doesn’t need eye witness reports to know he got beat down hard, and he doesn’t need to ask to know they both feel strongly about it. He doesn’t think the emotions running under their skin are just from being interrupted mid-scene either, though he doesn’t enquire. Neither seem the type that want to unburden their souls through talking. Jepha’s been working long enough, been a human on Earth long enough to know that some people are just full of tension that explodes out in one way or another, and no amount of talk can help.
Still, they have to say their lines. He tells them they can’t scene actively at school. They tell him some line about not meaning to. Jepha almost believes them, but it doesn’t matter. He still needs to tell Brian and watch him put his principal Schechter hat on. The transformation would be magical if he hadn’t seen it a thousand times over the years.
The rest of the day is more typical. A few issues about friends, a panic attack, a girl who’s getting shit from her friends for having two subs. Jepha listens to what they say, and tries to hear what they don’t, and hopes that the solutions he helps them patch together will work.
It’s a good day, but the best part of any day is going home. How can it not be, when Lisa is at home? He doesn’t have any after school meetings, so as the bell rings and the students dash out, Jepha follows them. Hell, he almost blends in. He’s shorter than half the male students.
After parking the car he knocks on their front door. A moment later she answers it. He’s not sure what he would do if she didn’t. Probably sit on the step and wait. He has a key for the few times he comes home to an empty house, but that’s different. Lisa’s still in her work clothes, she only gets home a half hour before he does. Just looking at her makes him smile. She’s perfection, and he’s hers. Which means sometimes he can be perfect too.
He follows her inside and puts his bag on the mat. Without gravity working with it, half the shit inside will probably fall out as the flimsy sides collapse, leaving him to grumble the next morning when he has to pick it all up. Every morning he thinks about getting a few hooks for the wall. Every evening he’s in such a hurry to get home that purchase hooks could be tattooed into his skin and he would still forget.
“Have you been good today?”
With the first of her questions, he can feel the thing inside himself settling. Not every professional has a slant directly opposing their job requirements, the daycare worker that needs a Daddy is just as much of a television trope as the butcher that likes bloodplay. But Jepha doesn’t care if he’s a cliche. It works for him. He spends most of the day asking probing questions and listening for answers, and then he goes home to Lisa and answers everything without hesitation.
“Yes.”
“You always say yes. Give me an example.”
He owes the teens their privacy, but his duty to his dom is to do what she asks. It’s a line doctors, lawyers, and therapists everywhere have to worry about. Legal and moral requirements do not always align perfectly with relationship requirements. “I helped a boy decide pursuing his wanted major of sociology was more important than his parents demanding a useful trade. He’s putting together essays now.”
“That’s pretty good.” She puts her pinky in his gauge and pulls. He keeps his head still. “Do you think it’s good enough?”
Always answer questions, even when you don’t know the answer. “I don’t know what it is. What the scale is.”
“Good answer.” She smiles, and it’s an intravenous injection of pride. “Collecting all the facts, anyone ever tell you you’re brilliant? For my cock Jepha. Have you been good enough for my cock?”
There are only two answers. “Yes.”
“Confidence. Oh, aren’t you full of good personality traits. I like that answer too. Bench.”
Jepha throws his clothes onto the couch as he goes. A one word sentence with a location always means be there naked.
The bench is beautiful. Back when he was a poor college student it was the only flat surface larger than a textbook in his apartment, lumpy and stained couch/bed not counting. His countertops were non-existent, but he had his bench. He probably would have punched someone if they’d tried to make a meal off it.
“On your back.” He complies immediately. Lisa isn’t the type to deny sex if he doesn’t move fast enough, but his want is making him eager. The vinyl is cool against his skin, but he knows how sweetly warm it’ll get soon.
“I’m tying you down. And then I am fucking you.”
He watches her strip off her clothes. Unlike him she hangs her pants to wear again, and tosses her shirt in the laundry basket. Nude, she opens one of the drawers in the toy dresser and gazes in. Her back is to him, but Jepha’s sure she’s biting her upper lip as she thinks. The combination she picks is one of his favourites, the clear vinyl harness with the six incher that matches her skin tone perfectly. Usually they don’t mix intoxicants with play, but if he was stoned he wouldn’t even be able to tell it wasn’t her flesh. That’s how perfectly it blends.
Straining his neck, he can see her spit on her hand and start stroking her cock. Her eyes flutter closed like she can feel it. He doesn’t grab his dick. He wants to, and she hasn’t told him not to, but she hasn’t told him to either. He wants to be good.
She leaves the room and comes back with grape licorice rope. He doesn’t say anything -there’s no reason to, she hasn’t asked a question- but eyes it with interest. He hopes she’s about to do what he thinks she’s going to.
Lisa sits on his thighs, tip of her cock brushing against him. She grabs his hand and Jepha gives it easily. She rests it flat on the vinyl and ties his wrist loosely to the closest of the rings running the side of the bench. The licorice is still room temperature, not sticky yet. She does the other wrist, then crawls up the bench, careful to not rest her knees anywhere that puts stress on the rope. A longer piece goes through each gauge, tying his head to the uppermost rings.
“You’re gonna be so still for me. You can scream, and you can cry, but don’t you dare move.”
He knows how fragile the rope is. He’s eaten it more times than he can count, it’s just about his favourite candy. And he still can’t help but twitch when two lubed fingers slide into his ass with no warning.
“I don’t have to explain what happens if they break, do I?”
“No,” he answers. If any of the pieces of licorice break, she’ll stop. She’ll kneel at the end of the bench and reach under her cock and get herself off while he strains his eyes to catch as much as he can in his peripheral vision. Or maybe she’ll kneel over his face and he’ll get to watch her wetness drooling down her leg. But she’ll stop fucking him, and she’ll come and he won’t.
She hasn’t tied his legs, so when she enters him Jepha can at least arch his feet and curl his toes. But it’s not enough, not when he can’t thrash his head or throw his arm over his eyes. Lisa doesn’t fuck him every day, but when they’re doing this he thinks she could do it twenty times a day every day for the rest of his life and he wouldn’t get sick of it. It wouldn’t be much of a rest of his life, he would pass out and die long before his seventies, but it would be a brilliant way to go. It’s just so goddamn exquisite.
When they started she used to have a timer to make sure she didn’t fuck him for too long. Now she’d only use it to set challenges for him, different lengths of time given for him to come before she took away that right. Tonight he doesn’t need a timer. Not being able to move is making everything worse-better-worse-better, harder-realer-just intense, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can stand this.
Lisa’s rhythm stutters for a minute, and he knows she’s come. He wants to reach and feel the way her cunt is quivering, or at least touch her lips and jawline. But he can’t, because it’ll break the strings and if she stops moving her cock inside him, he might die.
Once she picks up the motion again, she doesn’t stop until Jepha’s shuddering his release, shakes of his stomach and hips that he tries to not let carry up his body or down his arms. She pulls out while he’s shaking and fingers the rim of his asshole once before pulling her fingers away too.
“Please undo the ropes so I can kiss you.”
“Okay.” She bites through either curled around his wrist, then shimmies up the bench for the other two. Once he’s free she lies on top of him for a kiss. She tastes like grape.