After Class Hours
It was only a school boy crush.
For heygeorge.
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“I know why Shima’s smile is reaching from ear to ear.”
My head immediately shot up as soon as Akira’s spoke up, almost spitting out the food still in my mouth at his observation. “I’m not smiling,” I retorted immediately, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Oh, is it Wednesday today already?” Yutaka’s ‘innocent’ question really didn’t help at all and I glared at the both of them.
“What’s this all about, Aki?” And Takanori just had to ask. I rolled my eyes and just pretended that this conversation wasn’t happening.
“Well,” Yutaka started again and I threw him a pointed look but he didn’t seem to notice that so I just heaved out a deep sigh; nobody really listens to me anymore. “You see, our dear Kouyou is excited for his art class today. It’s his only subject for today, actually.”
Akira grinned. “And Shima’s got a crush on his Art prof- ouch!” That punch on his shoulder would’ve been more painful if I wasn’t seated across the table from that noseband freak.
“Ah, Kouyou’s got a crush on his Art prof, eh? This is the first time he’s expressed any kind of interest to other people, isn’t it?” Takanori’s grin was so big it creeped the lights out of me, and Yutaka’s laughter really didn’t help at all.
“Yeah, and here I thought he’d never find anybody interesting enough for him throughout uni. A big surprise, really!” Yutaka chirped, and with each second that these three bastards laughed at my expense, I just wanted to disappear to oblivion. But instead I’m here, sipping on my already empty juice pack while enduring their ridicule.
“Oh,” I heard Yutaka speak up again and I would’ve screamed at him to cut it out hadn’t it been for the actual thoughtful look on his face. “Isn’t your class at 12? It’s already 12:05 in my watch.”
“Shit!”My eyes widened and I immediately grabbed my bag, pulling away from the table and dashed as fast as I could, trying really hard not to let those stooges’ mocking laughter get to me. Screw what they think.
I’m Takashima Kouyou. Kouyou to my closest friends, Shima to Akira (a childhood nickname the two of us just couldn’t let go of, really), and Takashima to everybody else. A third year university student taking up business management because Dad wanted me to take care of our liquor business once I graduate. Personally I don’t care much about this degree I’m taking up as long as I get to graduate, because I’d really rather be playing my guitar and making music and occasionally thrashing Dad’s stash of expensive alcohol all day long. People say I rarely talk but that’s because there’s nothing to talk about, that I don’t look as approachable as I actually am, and that I do things at my own pace. But of course that’s just people complaining. Everybody has their quirks. Although I do agree with them about me working at my own pace; I hate getting rushed, which is why I usually end up cramming things that I need to do. This is also the reason why I’m late for almost all of my classes, because really, who doesn’t like stopping for a while to just, oh, I don’t know, appreciate the beauty of nature?
And then there was Art. Ever since I saw the list of subjects I can take this term I’ve been so excited because finally I get to take Art - one, if not the only subject I’ve been looking forward to ever since I stepped to university. Even though the subject is only just an introduction and the only art subject I’ll ever get, I was still very excited. But not as excited when I met my professor in Art.
His name is Shiroyama Yuu, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s only six years older than me. He’s only a part-time professor, probably still studying at another university, so he’s only teaching a minor subject. He’s a rebel, but a dorky rebel at that; he’s got this lip ring but he only wears it during class. Once, I saw him just before class started and he didn’t have his lip ring, but when he went inside the bathroom and got out, he already had his lip ring on. Of course face piercings aren’t allowed for professors in this university, but seeing him make that effort is just absolutely adorable.
What’s more, he loves art. Of course, that should be a given since he teaches it, but he really does love art. He doesn’t give half-assed lectures about art as compared when I was still in school. But the best part in that is that his specialty is music. On the first day of class he already cleared to us that majority of our lessons would include music since he’s more familiar with those topics. None of my classmates cared about that tidbit, but I, on the other hand, was very excited. Actually, scratch excited, I was actually exhilarated. Music is and will always be my life, and to be given even more proper education about it is absolute heaven to me. On the first day he talked about Bach and Chopin then Slipknot and then Sugizo.
To say I have a crush on him was an understatement. I was in love.
That said, it’s only natural for me to be early for his class. But because of those three idiots dragging me to lunch despite knowing I have a class at 12, I was late for almost ten minutes. I ran through the hallways, not caring if people thought of me as weird.
“Shit!” That was my second expletive in twenty minutes as I peered at the glass window thing at the door when I saw Shiroyama-sensei already there, seated on the table with his feet up on the table, occupied by his MP3 player. Without thinking, I hoisted the door open and forgot that it was the front door; students were only supposedly allowed to go through the back door since the front one is for professors. But when I entered the lecture hall, it didn’t seem that he minded; nobody actually did. Quietly and again without thinking, I went over to a seat in the front row, a bit on the middle right side, where he could see me perfectly. Of course that also meant that I could see him properly.
Once I took my seat I slumped over my desk right away and tried catching my breath. A few seconds into that, the bell rung and I straightened up immediately; so did Shiroyama-sensei. For a brief moment our eyes met, and I immediately cast mine down. Until I noticed him get up and walk towards to my direction, that is. At that moment I badly wanted to run outside the room not because he was approaching me, but because I didn’t want him to look at my already flustered face.
“Excuse me, can I ask you to borrow a laptop from the IM department?”
I could swear my poor heart skipped a beat when he talked to me in that gorgeous Kansai accent of his, more so when he slid his ID on my desk. I looked up, gave him a slight smile which, I bet, probably looked stupid as hell, and snatched the plastic card from my desk. “Sure thing Sensei…” I darted out of the room - again through the front door - without even giving him another glance.
When I came back from IM, Shiroyama-sensei was once again seated behind the teacher’s table, but now his leg only folded over his other leg. Once again my entrance didn’t faze anybody, but this time Shiroyama-sensei looked up and followed me with his eyes until I set the laptop on his desk. I caught a faint ‘thanks’ when I returned to my desk, and my heart skipped a beat again. Then I immediately rested my forehead against my table once I was already seated down, feigning tiredness. Actually I was merely trying to hide the tomato that I could feel my face has already turned into.
Again he took his sweet time setting up the laptop and the projector while my classmates did whatever they usually did. Well, he could take up all the time he wanted; this class lasts for three hours and from what I heard, professors are usually fined when they dismiss classes earlier than they should be dismissed. During these times I usually stare at him while he prepared for the lecture, but since I’m now in the front row, I couldn’t do that. Instead I just rolled my head to the side so that my right cheek was the one getting squished to the hard, wooden desk. I wish I had popped my earplugs on while I waited, but for some reason I couldn’t move from that position.
Two and a half hours passed by with me not really noticing it, because 70% of the time I was just doodling on my notes. Even if he was a professor I liked (again an understatement), there was no way that he could get me interested with surrealist paintings, especially not when he looked bored himself, yawning every ten minutes and speaking lazily like that. But as I noticed the lecture come to an end I became a little bit edgier, since I’d be the one to bring the laptop back to IM and retrieve his ID. That meant I had to interact with him again and would make a fool out of myself again. But I had to toughen up and force the blankest expression I can muster so as not to be too obvious with my pitiful crush.
Most of the class already left before he even finished packing his own stuff and preparing the laptop for retrieval, and everybody would’ve left already by the time I get back from IM. I was right and when I got back - this time coming in from the back door - I noticed him already leaning by the wall next to the front door. All of the lights in the room were already shut off and the blinds closed so I assumed nobody would be using it afterwards. I wouldn’t know, really, since I rarely stayed longer after class, in fear of doing anything stupid. Nevertheless I locked the back door as a sign of courtesy and ran down to the front of the room.
“Sensei, your ID,” I muttered nervously as I handed him his ID, as much as possible avoiding eye contact. But when he flashed me a big, bright smile, my eyes started being glued on his face.
“Thanks,” he answered, still not taking the ID from my hands but merely holding onto it. “Takashima-kun, right?”
If it was physically possible for me to die of happiness right now, I would’ve. Instead I’m still here, standing and grinning back like a total idiot, and forced to go through this sweet torture of being alone with him. “Yes, Sensei, Takashima Kouyou.”
Shiroyama-sensei finally took his ID and inserted it into his breast pocket and hummed a bit. “That’s a nice name.”
I looked down at my shoes, a pair of unpolished, brown leather shoes, and only nodded in reply. I really didn’t want to look at him, not when I could feel my cheeks burning and my heart pounding and my pants getting uncomfortably tighter in the front. I wished he’d just turn on his heels and just exit the room already, or even just take a step backward because for some reason he’s already too close for comfort and I was busy melting into a puddle of goo in front of him. Figuratively speaking, of course.
There was a sigh and that surely didn’t come from me, and I could feel his body heat lesser now that he’s backed off a bit. I threw a strained smile without even looking at his face, stepped back myself and was about to go on my way, until he caught my attention again with a sudden ‘oh!’
“You’ve got something under your eye…” Without any other warning he pressed his index finger under my right eye and scooped something. Needless to say I was frozen solid on the ground even before his finger connected with my skin, and when he got even closer I could swear I’d already turned into a statue. A living, breathing statue, that is.
Everything went by so fast. My brain was still incapable of processing as of that moment and it took a few good seconds to register that Shiroyama-sensei just pressed his lips against mine. To confirm that it wasn’t just a dream, I bit my inner cheek (because I really couldn’t move any other muscle of my body) for quite some time and furrowed my brows because it was starting to hurt like hell. Obviously it wasn’t a dream.
“Did my lip ring hurt?” Shiroyama-sensei’s voice snapped me out of my daze and I stopped biting on my inner cheek, feeling the indentations on my muscle as I flicked my tongue over it. I shook my head and he smiled again, but this time not just flashing a nice-looking smile but a smile that promised other things, before kissing my lips again.
Actually, I lied. Shiroyama-sensei moved so slowly that if in case I didn’t want it (and obviously I did), I could easily slip from him and walk away. But I stayed there and gripped at his shoulders, and I felt him smile against my lips.
“Do you think I don’t notice it?”
For a moment there I creased my brows, but then my head started reeling again when he graced my bottom lip with light, teasing suctions. At this point in time I couldn’t see anything than his imperfect skin and dark eyes, hear anything but my own escalating breathing, or understand anything aside from the fact that his tongue was softly wetting the outline of my lips. It was only by the time that he was about to start French kissing me that I noticed he actually asked a question. I only made a sound at the back of my throat as answer and he pulled back with a smirk.
“Do you think I don’t notice your flustered staring at my face during class, Kouyou-kun?” I swallowed thickly and could swear my face heating up ten times - no, a hundred times worse than earlier. Multiply that to infinity once Shiroyama-sensei started to drag his index finger across my still-wet mouth. “It’s normal to have a crush on your professor, but something in your eyes tells me you don’t simply have mere admiration for me.”
I had never felt so uncomfortable in my life, so vulnerable. My heart was thumping wildly against my chest and my fingers were starting to loosen its grip against Shiroyama-sensei’s shoulders. I felt as if I wanted to cry and I closed my eyes in shame. At that moment I couldn’t bear settling my eyes on any part of him because I was so embarrassed of myself.
But at the same time, I was going incredibly hard under his scrutiny.
“Tell me, Kouyou-kun…” His voice was incredibly low that the small hairs in my skin all stood, especially when his breath reached my ear, and I froze as the tip of his tongue danced just on the shell of my ear. “Do you get off at night thinking of me?”
Humiliating. His words were utterly and definitely humiliating, degrading, and yet I couldn’t help but whimper when he started to tug at my earlobe with his teeth.
I know I’m not innocent. Maybe I do sport a rather careless attitude in front of people and maybe nobody would think of me as being wanton, but I’m a twenty-year old man with needs too. True, there were times that Shiroyama-sensei’s face flash before my eyes when I wrap my fingers around my cock, but that’s only for me to know. I’m only human. It’s my secret but with every word he spoke, I felt like he was walking all over my pride. I didn’t want this.
But god, that’s a scathing lie. I would simply die of pent up feelings if he didn’t tell me more, and I could only be thankful for the pleased tone in his voice that said he wasn’t finished with me at all. Not even if I didn’t answer his question.
“You know, I just pretend to ignore you during class. You’re not a very enthusiastic student to begin with anyway, except when something catches your attention.” I dared open my eyes slightly, and what greeted me was a wide, mischievous smile obscured by the wetness around my eyes. “But I think you’re really alluring, Takashima. So very alluring with your bleached hair, pouty lips, and make-upped eyes.”
Somehow I couldn’t find the strength to look away when he started staring me down, not even if I was deeply embarrassed with the way I must’ve looked so shameless and needy. He started tracing his index finger over my chest - I don’t know whether it’s a blessing or a curse that I wore such a thin-clothed shirt - and purposely avoided my nipples, but I shifted in reflex so that his finger brushed over them, and Shiroyama-sensei raised his brow in amusement.
“Sometimes I think of you too before I… sleep.” His lips stretched to a smirk. I could feel myself shiver at the sound of his voice - teasing, undeniably sexy - and my cock already straining inside my briefs. The notion of embarrassment because of me being his student had all gone out of the window, and all that’s left is my want for him to trample all over me more. For a moment I hesitated, but I gave in and started unbuckling my belt. There really was no use in acting like a chaste virgin right now.
“I’m glad to know you’re not shy at all.” With that he placed a hand on the back of my neck and pulled me forward to a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. Obviously the both of us weren’t at all inexperienced at this, which was a relief, probably to both our parts. His tongue expertly slid against mine and caressed it with languid motions while I continued to fumble over my pants. His other hand slipped inside my thin shirt and immediately twisted on my left nipple, making me moan into his mouth.
He helped me out of my trousers and in the process I planted a hand against the door for support, and my mind was already so drunk in lust for me to even realize that the door was locked. If he wasn’t still sucking the life out of my mouth, then I would’ve realized already that this was all a deliberate plan. But at the moment, when Shiroyama-sensei started pulling me away from the wall, nothing else really mattered.
It wasn’t until a blunt edge hit my ass that I noticed that he actually directed me towards the teacher’s desk. He pushed me against the desk and I hopped backwards, sitting on top of it, feeling its cool surface sting a bit on my exposed skin. And there he was, still kissing and licking over my already swollen lips, positioned in between my legs as he rubbed my aching sex through my underwear.
We pulled back for a while, with my dominant hand undoing his pants and my other hand tangled in his hair. He continued stimulating my nipples and cock as he smiled smugly at me, and I swear I could just melt under his intense stare. His pants proved to be a bitch to undo and I had to bring my other hand down, while he just played over his lip ring with his tongue, and his eyes glinted with mischief again. But once I successfully pushed his pants a bit down, I still kept my head downwards. At first it was because I didn’t know what he was going to do with me next, but gradually I just became smitten with the impressive bulge that he had under his gray boxers.
“Should I still bother with formalities?”
I snapped my head up and looked at him as if a deer caught in headlights. “Huh?”
“I mean, ask you whether you’re sure to do this, say it’s wrong to have sexual relations with your mentor… or can I just fuck you senseless against this desk without further ado?”
I think the wetness that was starting to stain my briefs was answer enough, but nevertheless I shook my head slightly to give a formal reply. This was simply every fucking school boy’s dream come true. Shiroyama-sensei started peeling my wet underwear off and I was left with nothing but socks and leather shoes on my feet, and my shirt already rolled up to my collarbone. He pushed me further to the desk, and although I can’t wait to have him inside me already I still glanced backwards to check whether the desk can actually support both our weight. It was only a wooden desk, and I highly doubted it would be able to. He seemed to have noticed my distress so he maneuvered my hips a little to the edge so that I was sitting near to the center, but with one leg off the desk and my foot grounded on the floor.
“It won’t break in this position, don’t worry,” he said with an almost sing-song voice as he brought my other leg up the desk, spreading it wide and revealing my hard cock before him. Never in my life had I been as debauched as this, but I fucking love every single second of it, and I wanted more. He leaned down to my face and placed a kiss on my lips before whispering to my ear. “How about you touch yourself while I get ready, hmm?”
There was nothing else for me to do but comply, and felt as if doing this was actually my air. I propped my elbow against the desk and used my free hand to start stroking on my erection, with my eyes never leaving his form. Shiroyama-sensei got out of his boxers and pants, leaving him with only his polo shirt, socks, and shoes as well, and walked over towards the teacher’s chair where his bag was. From there he pulled one black condom pack and then a tube of K-Y Jelly, before walking around so that he was in front of me. He still saw the surprised expression despite the way my face was creasing in sexual pleasure as I continued to fist on my cock.
“You carry that with you all the time?” I asked almost breathlessly, and apparently this was the first time that I’ve spoken in minutes since I noticed that my voice had started to croak a bit. I watched Shiroyama-sensei coat his hand with the lube, and watched him with utter fascination as he started putting on the condom on his cock, standing proudly in between his legs. He slicked his condom-sheathed erection for a while before his shoving my hand away from my own member and stroking it himself.
“Not really, but I figured this would happen sooner or later.” I really couldn’t focus on his answer when his slickened hand continued to stroke me while his other hand stroked his own cock. It felt so fucking good, the way his fingers slid smoothly on my already sensitive dick, and how he was deliberately avoiding the tip of it even though that would be even more pleasurable. I’d have thanked him for that, since at least I’m able to hold out longer, but then those slender fingers started dragging their way down my balls to my entrance. I felt my hole tighten when he started pushing one finger into me, and I moaned into the back of my hand, spreading my legs wider.
Shiroyama-sensei leaned down and started French kissing me again, swallowing all my moans as he thrust his finger into me carefully. This wouldn’t be my first time to be with a man but it’s been long since I fucked, and he probably could tell by how tight my ass was clamping down on his finger. He added another finger and the wetness in my eyes turned into full-fledged beads of tears, because as much as I hate to admit, it still stung a little.
He stopped from all his ministrations for a while, allowing me to catch my breath and he started to just place small kisses over my tightly shut eyes down to my cheeks. When I finally opened my eyes, I tilted my head a bit so that I’d be able to latch onto his mouth again. He smirked against my submissive kiss and started thrusting in again, scissoring and stretching me languorously.
His preparation had gone for a few more minutes and thankfully it was slow and careful enough not to give me any real pleasure. I circled my arms over his neck and pulled him close, dipping my lips into the shell of his ear. “I’m ready now…”
There was no smug look on his face when he pulled away, but only one of concentration when he flung a leg over the table and positioned his cock against my hole, pushing in without haste. Certainly his length was thicker than his fingers, so I’m glad he went through all the trouble of preparing me carefully. But I really couldn’t care less about that because my head was already swimming from the bliss of slowly being filled by his cock.
As he was already halfway into me, Shiroyama-sensei slung my leg over his shoulder and started thrusting, gradually gaining speed. The position was obscure but it wasn’t at all uncomfortable; in fact it was perfect as my cock brushed against the fabric of his shirt every time he moved. I gripped at the edges of the table, cautiously throwing my head from side to side. I felt the sweat trickle down my forehead and chest as his unsteady movements continued. I’ve always hated it when my long-ish hair clung to the skin of my neck, but today I don’t mind. I don’t even really care.
I don’t remember when I closed my eyes but when I finally opened them, I saw Shiroyama-sensei looking down at me with his hair sticking all over his face, looking all hot and bothered and sexy. How his black lip ring glimmered inside this dark room, I have no idea, but that made him even sexier. And it made me even harder, if that was even possible. With that I was made aware of my erection and I let go of the desk to stroke on my cock and fondle with my balls. My actions made Shiroyama-sensei smirk.
One particular thrust made me scream out in utter ecstasy; Shiroyama-sensei was buried into me to the hilt and was able to hit my sweet spot dead on. He smirked at my cry and pinned my dangling leg down, stretching my legs even farther as he continued to thrust in, but this time more shallowly.
He was gradually pulling out of me and when it was only the tip of his cock inside of me, I grabbed on his wrist. “What are you doing?”
Shiroyama-sensei still pulled out despite my silent plea. I felt my lower lip unconsciously jut out to a small pout and he smiled a bit before kissing me again. “I want to take you from behind. Is that okay?”
My brows and lips creased at his suggestion; I was already so close so of course I wasn’t happy when he stopped. But still I couldn’t do anything about that anyway, especially not when he was already off the desk and helping me bend down over it. I braced my elbows against the surface while he sited himself behind me this time, and I could feel his erection poking at my outer thigh. I looked back and threw him a pointed look when he still didn’t stick his cock into my ass.
“I never knew you were impatient too.” He laughed mockingly and I threw him a glare this time, but my features softened once he pushed into me again, and I pushed back against him. It took me a few more seconds to get used to this position; my knees were getting weak but the front of the desk was supporting them, so it was all good. It also helped that Shiroyama-sensei’s arm was secured around my waist.
I didn’t think it would be more pleasurable for me to get fucked from behind. Mainly because I was always having sex face to face or sideways, or like in the position earlier. Somehow it gave me a sense of mysteriousness, not knowing what your partner looks like, though somehow you do. It simply leaves too much to the imagination, and it was better this way because at least, I don’t feel as if it’s a waste when I close my eyes, since I know I’ll never see his face anyway if I opened them.
In my inner mind theater, Shiroyama-sensei had his eyes closed and his lower lip bitten down on, brows creased in concentration. I looked behind me and see him exactly looking like that, except it was so much hotter. And even hotter when he let his face fall against my back, making his lip ring dig into my shirt and slightly into my skin. It was only a small sensation but I dipped my head down and let out a small groan nevertheless. So when his arm fell and his hand started stroking my dick again, I moaned even more. I really loved the silky feeling of his hand, of course thanks to the lube, but I loved how he seemed to know all my sensitive places all the more. I suppose it’s because men know men best.
Shiroyama-sensei started pounding into me more erratically, and I could feel that he was already close. What I didn’t understand was why he clamped his fingers on the base of my cock, and at that I let out a frustrated whine. “Sensei…”
I felt him smile against my nape but still, for the life of me, I didn’t know why he was denying me climax. I looked back at him again, only to find that he already had his chin propped on my shoulder. “Wait Kouyou-kun… just let me…”
He was wearing a condom, but I’m pretty sure I felt his hot, thick seed gush from his cock, and at that moment I wished he didn’t wear any protection at all. It would’ve made the moment more intimate, but at this stage, I was in no position to demand for anything, maybe except having my own cock released from his grip. He was so quiet at climax that I wouldn’t have noticed it if not for that feeling, and that his movements were starting to slow down.
I hated to think that he was a selfish motherfucker only after his own release, so I looked back at him with another pleading look. He kissed whatever he could reach of my mouth and started stroking my cock in time with his harsh thrusts.
Those few seconds of having my prostate hit over and over again was heaven, but having his thumb run over the slit of my cock and finally getting to come was absolute nirvana. My release spilled all over Shiroyama-sensei’s hand but I continued thrusting into his hand and pushing back to his cock, wearing myself out in my own pace. As I was fully spent, I slumped into the desk, groaning a bit when my still-hard nipples ruthlessly brushed against the hard surface. Shiroyama-sensei was generous enough not to collapse over me because honestly I don’t think I’d be able to handle his weight anymore. Instead, he placed a few kisses over my shoulders and nape before pulling out. At that I had to smile.
It was like I went back to my position back when I was still in class. Cheek pressed against the desk, looking all flustered and red, except I had no underwear or pants on and this time, I was most certainly satisfied. I panted harshly and closed my eyes, not at all trying to process what just happened but simply trying to gain my sanity back. Suddenly I felt sleepy, but I guess that’s understandable.
I wasn’t roused from my drowsiness until I heard a clank against the desk. I opened my eyes and saw my pants and underwear next to my face, and I jolted up. Shiroyama-sensei was already fully dressed, looking pretty much like before except his clothes were all wrinkly now and the ends of his hair damp with sweat. He held up a pack of wet wipes on one hand and a pack of tissue with another. I immediately snatched those out of his hands and let a small snicker, which turned to a laugh when I faced back from him.
I wiped my flaccid dick with the wet wipes and dried it with tissue, before putting my underwear and pants back on, then threw my garbage on the bin under the table. The desk moved a little when Shiroyama-sensei sat on top of it. I walked towards my seat from earlier and grabbed my bag, refusing to look at him at all. But I couldn’t help myself anyway.
I noticed him looking up and having a nicotine substitute in between his lips. I bet that’s because he wasn’t allowed to smoke in campus, just as he wasn’t exactly allowed to put his lip ring on. There he was, looking all dorky again, and I wondered how my small, simple crush for turned into complete lust. The thought wasn’t enough to get me happy in the pants again, but it did make me blush.
Somehow I thought it would be rude to just walk out of there as if nothing happened. Leaning against the desk, I fiddled on the strap of my bag for a while, before looking up to him. He was still looking up, but then in a few seconds he turned to me and smiled. I felt even more insecure. “W-what are you gonna do a-after, then?” It must be incredibly amusing for him to witness my shame because he was grinning like an idiot now.
Shiroyama-sensei hopped off the seat and grabbed on his bag, before walking towards me and leaned his rear against the desk as well. For a brief moment he looked at me, then shrugged. “Probably jerk off, then go to my masteral class.”
His crude language was something one can get used to in a few talks, and now I really don’t mind. I guess it bothers me more that a professor would have such a vulgar vocabulary, but then again, he too was only human. And besides, having sex with a student should be even more disturbing, so I shouldn’t be complaining anymore.
“What time is your class?” I asked, and it surprised me how innocent my voice came out. He should know that I’m nothing but innocent now, but I really shouldn’t concern myself with that because he’s pretty much the pervert here.
He pursed his lips in thought then shot another glance towards me. “Four.” I fished my phone from my bag and flipped it open to check the time. It was already 3:33. I smiled because that was such an interesting time.
Pushing myself off the desk, I straightened my shirt and brushed my hair with my fingers, thanking the gods that Arts was my last class. I could already get straight to my dorm without a lot of people staring at me curiously. I always did hate getting stared at. “I guess I should go then.”
Shiroyama-sensei jerked away from the desk and straightened up as well, sporting a grin on his face this time as he placed a kiss on my cheek. I raised my brows, but they didn’t hide the color on my cheeks. Then I started to walk away.
“I guess I’ll just be seeing you next class, Takashima-kun,” he shouted out as I neared the door, “Just e-mail me if you have any other… questions.” I swear I could feel the smirk on his face as he said that, and I didn’t even have to look back.
I only offered him a small nod before I pushed the door open, but then remembered it was actually locked. I flipped on the latch and pushed the door open, but stopped in my tracks with the sudden light flooding my eyes. As soon as I was able to adjust, I dashed out of the classroom as fast as I tried getting there earlier, this time with Shiroyama-sensei’s melodious laughter ringing in my mind.
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Longest shit I've written, ever. Please do point out the buttload of mistakes that I've done since I'm incapable of doing that myself. By the way, IM means Instructional Materials. :3
Yes, the porn isn't all that intense, but I wanted the situation to be as real as possible. And there are elements of my actual writing here, a few hints/loose ends which challenges you guys to speculate on what actually happens or what happens next.
Serious business aside, Georgey, this was the original older!/younger!guy fic. Of course I'm still writing that Kai/Reita.
Oh yeah, some of the things here are based on real experience. Which ones those are, I will keep undisclosed. ^^
For heygeorge.
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“I know why Shima’s smile is reaching from ear to ear.”
My head immediately shot up as soon as Akira’s spoke up, almost spitting out the food still in my mouth at his observation. “I’m not smiling,” I retorted immediately, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand.
“Oh, is it Wednesday today already?” Yutaka’s ‘innocent’ question really didn’t help at all and I glared at the both of them.
“What’s this all about, Aki?” And Takanori just had to ask. I rolled my eyes and just pretended that this conversation wasn’t happening.
“Well,” Yutaka started again and I threw him a pointed look but he didn’t seem to notice that so I just heaved out a deep sigh; nobody really listens to me anymore. “You see, our dear Kouyou is excited for his art class today. It’s his only subject for today, actually.”
Akira grinned. “And Shima’s got a crush on his Art prof- ouch!” That punch on his shoulder would’ve been more painful if I wasn’t seated across the table from that noseband freak.
“Ah, Kouyou’s got a crush on his Art prof, eh? This is the first time he’s expressed any kind of interest to other people, isn’t it?” Takanori’s grin was so big it creeped the lights out of me, and Yutaka’s laughter really didn’t help at all.
“Yeah, and here I thought he’d never find anybody interesting enough for him throughout uni. A big surprise, really!” Yutaka chirped, and with each second that these three bastards laughed at my expense, I just wanted to disappear to oblivion. But instead I’m here, sipping on my already empty juice pack while enduring their ridicule.
“Oh,” I heard Yutaka speak up again and I would’ve screamed at him to cut it out hadn’t it been for the actual thoughtful look on his face. “Isn’t your class at 12? It’s already 12:05 in my watch.”
“Shit!”My eyes widened and I immediately grabbed my bag, pulling away from the table and dashed as fast as I could, trying really hard not to let those stooges’ mocking laughter get to me. Screw what they think.
I’m Takashima Kouyou. Kouyou to my closest friends, Shima to Akira (a childhood nickname the two of us just couldn’t let go of, really), and Takashima to everybody else. A third year university student taking up business management because Dad wanted me to take care of our liquor business once I graduate. Personally I don’t care much about this degree I’m taking up as long as I get to graduate, because I’d really rather be playing my guitar and making music and occasionally thrashing Dad’s stash of expensive alcohol all day long. People say I rarely talk but that’s because there’s nothing to talk about, that I don’t look as approachable as I actually am, and that I do things at my own pace. But of course that’s just people complaining. Everybody has their quirks. Although I do agree with them about me working at my own pace; I hate getting rushed, which is why I usually end up cramming things that I need to do. This is also the reason why I’m late for almost all of my classes, because really, who doesn’t like stopping for a while to just, oh, I don’t know, appreciate the beauty of nature?
And then there was Art. Ever since I saw the list of subjects I can take this term I’ve been so excited because finally I get to take Art - one, if not the only subject I’ve been looking forward to ever since I stepped to university. Even though the subject is only just an introduction and the only art subject I’ll ever get, I was still very excited. But not as excited when I met my professor in Art.
His name is Shiroyama Yuu, and if I’m not mistaken, he’s only six years older than me. He’s only a part-time professor, probably still studying at another university, so he’s only teaching a minor subject. He’s a rebel, but a dorky rebel at that; he’s got this lip ring but he only wears it during class. Once, I saw him just before class started and he didn’t have his lip ring, but when he went inside the bathroom and got out, he already had his lip ring on. Of course face piercings aren’t allowed for professors in this university, but seeing him make that effort is just absolutely adorable.
What’s more, he loves art. Of course, that should be a given since he teaches it, but he really does love art. He doesn’t give half-assed lectures about art as compared when I was still in school. But the best part in that is that his specialty is music. On the first day of class he already cleared to us that majority of our lessons would include music since he’s more familiar with those topics. None of my classmates cared about that tidbit, but I, on the other hand, was very excited. Actually, scratch excited, I was actually exhilarated. Music is and will always be my life, and to be given even more proper education about it is absolute heaven to me. On the first day he talked about Bach and Chopin then Slipknot and then Sugizo.
To say I have a crush on him was an understatement. I was in love.
That said, it’s only natural for me to be early for his class. But because of those three idiots dragging me to lunch despite knowing I have a class at 12, I was late for almost ten minutes. I ran through the hallways, not caring if people thought of me as weird.
“Shit!” That was my second expletive in twenty minutes as I peered at the glass window thing at the door when I saw Shiroyama-sensei already there, seated on the table with his feet up on the table, occupied by his MP3 player. Without thinking, I hoisted the door open and forgot that it was the front door; students were only supposedly allowed to go through the back door since the front one is for professors. But when I entered the lecture hall, it didn’t seem that he minded; nobody actually did. Quietly and again without thinking, I went over to a seat in the front row, a bit on the middle right side, where he could see me perfectly. Of course that also meant that I could see him properly.
Once I took my seat I slumped over my desk right away and tried catching my breath. A few seconds into that, the bell rung and I straightened up immediately; so did Shiroyama-sensei. For a brief moment our eyes met, and I immediately cast mine down. Until I noticed him get up and walk towards to my direction, that is. At that moment I badly wanted to run outside the room not because he was approaching me, but because I didn’t want him to look at my already flustered face.
“Excuse me, can I ask you to borrow a laptop from the IM department?”
I could swear my poor heart skipped a beat when he talked to me in that gorgeous Kansai accent of his, more so when he slid his ID on my desk. I looked up, gave him a slight smile which, I bet, probably looked stupid as hell, and snatched the plastic card from my desk. “Sure thing Sensei…” I darted out of the room - again through the front door - without even giving him another glance.
When I came back from IM, Shiroyama-sensei was once again seated behind the teacher’s table, but now his leg only folded over his other leg. Once again my entrance didn’t faze anybody, but this time Shiroyama-sensei looked up and followed me with his eyes until I set the laptop on his desk. I caught a faint ‘thanks’ when I returned to my desk, and my heart skipped a beat again. Then I immediately rested my forehead against my table once I was already seated down, feigning tiredness. Actually I was merely trying to hide the tomato that I could feel my face has already turned into.
Again he took his sweet time setting up the laptop and the projector while my classmates did whatever they usually did. Well, he could take up all the time he wanted; this class lasts for three hours and from what I heard, professors are usually fined when they dismiss classes earlier than they should be dismissed. During these times I usually stare at him while he prepared for the lecture, but since I’m now in the front row, I couldn’t do that. Instead I just rolled my head to the side so that my right cheek was the one getting squished to the hard, wooden desk. I wish I had popped my earplugs on while I waited, but for some reason I couldn’t move from that position.
Two and a half hours passed by with me not really noticing it, because 70% of the time I was just doodling on my notes. Even if he was a professor I liked (again an understatement), there was no way that he could get me interested with surrealist paintings, especially not when he looked bored himself, yawning every ten minutes and speaking lazily like that. But as I noticed the lecture come to an end I became a little bit edgier, since I’d be the one to bring the laptop back to IM and retrieve his ID. That meant I had to interact with him again and would make a fool out of myself again. But I had to toughen up and force the blankest expression I can muster so as not to be too obvious with my pitiful crush.
Most of the class already left before he even finished packing his own stuff and preparing the laptop for retrieval, and everybody would’ve left already by the time I get back from IM. I was right and when I got back - this time coming in from the back door - I noticed him already leaning by the wall next to the front door. All of the lights in the room were already shut off and the blinds closed so I assumed nobody would be using it afterwards. I wouldn’t know, really, since I rarely stayed longer after class, in fear of doing anything stupid. Nevertheless I locked the back door as a sign of courtesy and ran down to the front of the room.
“Sensei, your ID,” I muttered nervously as I handed him his ID, as much as possible avoiding eye contact. But when he flashed me a big, bright smile, my eyes started being glued on his face.
“Thanks,” he answered, still not taking the ID from my hands but merely holding onto it. “Takashima-kun, right?”
If it was physically possible for me to die of happiness right now, I would’ve. Instead I’m still here, standing and grinning back like a total idiot, and forced to go through this sweet torture of being alone with him. “Yes, Sensei, Takashima Kouyou.”
Shiroyama-sensei finally took his ID and inserted it into his breast pocket and hummed a bit. “That’s a nice name.”
I looked down at my shoes, a pair of unpolished, brown leather shoes, and only nodded in reply. I really didn’t want to look at him, not when I could feel my cheeks burning and my heart pounding and my pants getting uncomfortably tighter in the front. I wished he’d just turn on his heels and just exit the room already, or even just take a step backward because for some reason he’s already too close for comfort and I was busy melting into a puddle of goo in front of him. Figuratively speaking, of course.
There was a sigh and that surely didn’t come from me, and I could feel his body heat lesser now that he’s backed off a bit. I threw a strained smile without even looking at his face, stepped back myself and was about to go on my way, until he caught my attention again with a sudden ‘oh!’
“You’ve got something under your eye…” Without any other warning he pressed his index finger under my right eye and scooped something. Needless to say I was frozen solid on the ground even before his finger connected with my skin, and when he got even closer I could swear I’d already turned into a statue. A living, breathing statue, that is.
Everything went by so fast. My brain was still incapable of processing as of that moment and it took a few good seconds to register that Shiroyama-sensei just pressed his lips against mine. To confirm that it wasn’t just a dream, I bit my inner cheek (because I really couldn’t move any other muscle of my body) for quite some time and furrowed my brows because it was starting to hurt like hell. Obviously it wasn’t a dream.
“Did my lip ring hurt?” Shiroyama-sensei’s voice snapped me out of my daze and I stopped biting on my inner cheek, feeling the indentations on my muscle as I flicked my tongue over it. I shook my head and he smiled again, but this time not just flashing a nice-looking smile but a smile that promised other things, before kissing my lips again.
Actually, I lied. Shiroyama-sensei moved so slowly that if in case I didn’t want it (and obviously I did), I could easily slip from him and walk away. But I stayed there and gripped at his shoulders, and I felt him smile against my lips.
“Do you think I don’t notice it?”
For a moment there I creased my brows, but then my head started reeling again when he graced my bottom lip with light, teasing suctions. At this point in time I couldn’t see anything than his imperfect skin and dark eyes, hear anything but my own escalating breathing, or understand anything aside from the fact that his tongue was softly wetting the outline of my lips. It was only by the time that he was about to start French kissing me that I noticed he actually asked a question. I only made a sound at the back of my throat as answer and he pulled back with a smirk.
“Do you think I don’t notice your flustered staring at my face during class, Kouyou-kun?” I swallowed thickly and could swear my face heating up ten times - no, a hundred times worse than earlier. Multiply that to infinity once Shiroyama-sensei started to drag his index finger across my still-wet mouth. “It’s normal to have a crush on your professor, but something in your eyes tells me you don’t simply have mere admiration for me.”
I had never felt so uncomfortable in my life, so vulnerable. My heart was thumping wildly against my chest and my fingers were starting to loosen its grip against Shiroyama-sensei’s shoulders. I felt as if I wanted to cry and I closed my eyes in shame. At that moment I couldn’t bear settling my eyes on any part of him because I was so embarrassed of myself.
But at the same time, I was going incredibly hard under his scrutiny.
“Tell me, Kouyou-kun…” His voice was incredibly low that the small hairs in my skin all stood, especially when his breath reached my ear, and I froze as the tip of his tongue danced just on the shell of my ear. “Do you get off at night thinking of me?”
Humiliating. His words were utterly and definitely humiliating, degrading, and yet I couldn’t help but whimper when he started to tug at my earlobe with his teeth.
I know I’m not innocent. Maybe I do sport a rather careless attitude in front of people and maybe nobody would think of me as being wanton, but I’m a twenty-year old man with needs too. True, there were times that Shiroyama-sensei’s face flash before my eyes when I wrap my fingers around my cock, but that’s only for me to know. I’m only human. It’s my secret but with every word he spoke, I felt like he was walking all over my pride. I didn’t want this.
But god, that’s a scathing lie. I would simply die of pent up feelings if he didn’t tell me more, and I could only be thankful for the pleased tone in his voice that said he wasn’t finished with me at all. Not even if I didn’t answer his question.
“You know, I just pretend to ignore you during class. You’re not a very enthusiastic student to begin with anyway, except when something catches your attention.” I dared open my eyes slightly, and what greeted me was a wide, mischievous smile obscured by the wetness around my eyes. “But I think you’re really alluring, Takashima. So very alluring with your bleached hair, pouty lips, and make-upped eyes.”
Somehow I couldn’t find the strength to look away when he started staring me down, not even if I was deeply embarrassed with the way I must’ve looked so shameless and needy. He started tracing his index finger over my chest - I don’t know whether it’s a blessing or a curse that I wore such a thin-clothed shirt - and purposely avoided my nipples, but I shifted in reflex so that his finger brushed over them, and Shiroyama-sensei raised his brow in amusement.
“Sometimes I think of you too before I… sleep.” His lips stretched to a smirk. I could feel myself shiver at the sound of his voice - teasing, undeniably sexy - and my cock already straining inside my briefs. The notion of embarrassment because of me being his student had all gone out of the window, and all that’s left is my want for him to trample all over me more. For a moment I hesitated, but I gave in and started unbuckling my belt. There really was no use in acting like a chaste virgin right now.
“I’m glad to know you’re not shy at all.” With that he placed a hand on the back of my neck and pulled me forward to a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. Obviously the both of us weren’t at all inexperienced at this, which was a relief, probably to both our parts. His tongue expertly slid against mine and caressed it with languid motions while I continued to fumble over my pants. His other hand slipped inside my thin shirt and immediately twisted on my left nipple, making me moan into his mouth.
He helped me out of my trousers and in the process I planted a hand against the door for support, and my mind was already so drunk in lust for me to even realize that the door was locked. If he wasn’t still sucking the life out of my mouth, then I would’ve realized already that this was all a deliberate plan. But at the moment, when Shiroyama-sensei started pulling me away from the wall, nothing else really mattered.
It wasn’t until a blunt edge hit my ass that I noticed that he actually directed me towards the teacher’s desk. He pushed me against the desk and I hopped backwards, sitting on top of it, feeling its cool surface sting a bit on my exposed skin. And there he was, still kissing and licking over my already swollen lips, positioned in between my legs as he rubbed my aching sex through my underwear.
We pulled back for a while, with my dominant hand undoing his pants and my other hand tangled in his hair. He continued stimulating my nipples and cock as he smiled smugly at me, and I swear I could just melt under his intense stare. His pants proved to be a bitch to undo and I had to bring my other hand down, while he just played over his lip ring with his tongue, and his eyes glinted with mischief again. But once I successfully pushed his pants a bit down, I still kept my head downwards. At first it was because I didn’t know what he was going to do with me next, but gradually I just became smitten with the impressive bulge that he had under his gray boxers.
“Should I still bother with formalities?”
I snapped my head up and looked at him as if a deer caught in headlights. “Huh?”
“I mean, ask you whether you’re sure to do this, say it’s wrong to have sexual relations with your mentor… or can I just fuck you senseless against this desk without further ado?”
I think the wetness that was starting to stain my briefs was answer enough, but nevertheless I shook my head slightly to give a formal reply. This was simply every fucking school boy’s dream come true. Shiroyama-sensei started peeling my wet underwear off and I was left with nothing but socks and leather shoes on my feet, and my shirt already rolled up to my collarbone. He pushed me further to the desk, and although I can’t wait to have him inside me already I still glanced backwards to check whether the desk can actually support both our weight. It was only a wooden desk, and I highly doubted it would be able to. He seemed to have noticed my distress so he maneuvered my hips a little to the edge so that I was sitting near to the center, but with one leg off the desk and my foot grounded on the floor.
“It won’t break in this position, don’t worry,” he said with an almost sing-song voice as he brought my other leg up the desk, spreading it wide and revealing my hard cock before him. Never in my life had I been as debauched as this, but I fucking love every single second of it, and I wanted more. He leaned down to my face and placed a kiss on my lips before whispering to my ear. “How about you touch yourself while I get ready, hmm?”
There was nothing else for me to do but comply, and felt as if doing this was actually my air. I propped my elbow against the desk and used my free hand to start stroking on my erection, with my eyes never leaving his form. Shiroyama-sensei got out of his boxers and pants, leaving him with only his polo shirt, socks, and shoes as well, and walked over towards the teacher’s chair where his bag was. From there he pulled one black condom pack and then a tube of K-Y Jelly, before walking around so that he was in front of me. He still saw the surprised expression despite the way my face was creasing in sexual pleasure as I continued to fist on my cock.
“You carry that with you all the time?” I asked almost breathlessly, and apparently this was the first time that I’ve spoken in minutes since I noticed that my voice had started to croak a bit. I watched Shiroyama-sensei coat his hand with the lube, and watched him with utter fascination as he started putting on the condom on his cock, standing proudly in between his legs. He slicked his condom-sheathed erection for a while before his shoving my hand away from my own member and stroking it himself.
“Not really, but I figured this would happen sooner or later.” I really couldn’t focus on his answer when his slickened hand continued to stroke me while his other hand stroked his own cock. It felt so fucking good, the way his fingers slid smoothly on my already sensitive dick, and how he was deliberately avoiding the tip of it even though that would be even more pleasurable. I’d have thanked him for that, since at least I’m able to hold out longer, but then those slender fingers started dragging their way down my balls to my entrance. I felt my hole tighten when he started pushing one finger into me, and I moaned into the back of my hand, spreading my legs wider.
Shiroyama-sensei leaned down and started French kissing me again, swallowing all my moans as he thrust his finger into me carefully. This wouldn’t be my first time to be with a man but it’s been long since I fucked, and he probably could tell by how tight my ass was clamping down on his finger. He added another finger and the wetness in my eyes turned into full-fledged beads of tears, because as much as I hate to admit, it still stung a little.
He stopped from all his ministrations for a while, allowing me to catch my breath and he started to just place small kisses over my tightly shut eyes down to my cheeks. When I finally opened my eyes, I tilted my head a bit so that I’d be able to latch onto his mouth again. He smirked against my submissive kiss and started thrusting in again, scissoring and stretching me languorously.
His preparation had gone for a few more minutes and thankfully it was slow and careful enough not to give me any real pleasure. I circled my arms over his neck and pulled him close, dipping my lips into the shell of his ear. “I’m ready now…”
There was no smug look on his face when he pulled away, but only one of concentration when he flung a leg over the table and positioned his cock against my hole, pushing in without haste. Certainly his length was thicker than his fingers, so I’m glad he went through all the trouble of preparing me carefully. But I really couldn’t care less about that because my head was already swimming from the bliss of slowly being filled by his cock.
As he was already halfway into me, Shiroyama-sensei slung my leg over his shoulder and started thrusting, gradually gaining speed. The position was obscure but it wasn’t at all uncomfortable; in fact it was perfect as my cock brushed against the fabric of his shirt every time he moved. I gripped at the edges of the table, cautiously throwing my head from side to side. I felt the sweat trickle down my forehead and chest as his unsteady movements continued. I’ve always hated it when my long-ish hair clung to the skin of my neck, but today I don’t mind. I don’t even really care.
I don’t remember when I closed my eyes but when I finally opened them, I saw Shiroyama-sensei looking down at me with his hair sticking all over his face, looking all hot and bothered and sexy. How his black lip ring glimmered inside this dark room, I have no idea, but that made him even sexier. And it made me even harder, if that was even possible. With that I was made aware of my erection and I let go of the desk to stroke on my cock and fondle with my balls. My actions made Shiroyama-sensei smirk.
One particular thrust made me scream out in utter ecstasy; Shiroyama-sensei was buried into me to the hilt and was able to hit my sweet spot dead on. He smirked at my cry and pinned my dangling leg down, stretching my legs even farther as he continued to thrust in, but this time more shallowly.
He was gradually pulling out of me and when it was only the tip of his cock inside of me, I grabbed on his wrist. “What are you doing?”
Shiroyama-sensei still pulled out despite my silent plea. I felt my lower lip unconsciously jut out to a small pout and he smiled a bit before kissing me again. “I want to take you from behind. Is that okay?”
My brows and lips creased at his suggestion; I was already so close so of course I wasn’t happy when he stopped. But still I couldn’t do anything about that anyway, especially not when he was already off the desk and helping me bend down over it. I braced my elbows against the surface while he sited himself behind me this time, and I could feel his erection poking at my outer thigh. I looked back and threw him a pointed look when he still didn’t stick his cock into my ass.
“I never knew you were impatient too.” He laughed mockingly and I threw him a glare this time, but my features softened once he pushed into me again, and I pushed back against him. It took me a few more seconds to get used to this position; my knees were getting weak but the front of the desk was supporting them, so it was all good. It also helped that Shiroyama-sensei’s arm was secured around my waist.
I didn’t think it would be more pleasurable for me to get fucked from behind. Mainly because I was always having sex face to face or sideways, or like in the position earlier. Somehow it gave me a sense of mysteriousness, not knowing what your partner looks like, though somehow you do. It simply leaves too much to the imagination, and it was better this way because at least, I don’t feel as if it’s a waste when I close my eyes, since I know I’ll never see his face anyway if I opened them.
In my inner mind theater, Shiroyama-sensei had his eyes closed and his lower lip bitten down on, brows creased in concentration. I looked behind me and see him exactly looking like that, except it was so much hotter. And even hotter when he let his face fall against my back, making his lip ring dig into my shirt and slightly into my skin. It was only a small sensation but I dipped my head down and let out a small groan nevertheless. So when his arm fell and his hand started stroking my dick again, I moaned even more. I really loved the silky feeling of his hand, of course thanks to the lube, but I loved how he seemed to know all my sensitive places all the more. I suppose it’s because men know men best.
Shiroyama-sensei started pounding into me more erratically, and I could feel that he was already close. What I didn’t understand was why he clamped his fingers on the base of my cock, and at that I let out a frustrated whine. “Sensei…”
I felt him smile against my nape but still, for the life of me, I didn’t know why he was denying me climax. I looked back at him again, only to find that he already had his chin propped on my shoulder. “Wait Kouyou-kun… just let me…”
He was wearing a condom, but I’m pretty sure I felt his hot, thick seed gush from his cock, and at that moment I wished he didn’t wear any protection at all. It would’ve made the moment more intimate, but at this stage, I was in no position to demand for anything, maybe except having my own cock released from his grip. He was so quiet at climax that I wouldn’t have noticed it if not for that feeling, and that his movements were starting to slow down.
I hated to think that he was a selfish motherfucker only after his own release, so I looked back at him with another pleading look. He kissed whatever he could reach of my mouth and started stroking my cock in time with his harsh thrusts.
Those few seconds of having my prostate hit over and over again was heaven, but having his thumb run over the slit of my cock and finally getting to come was absolute nirvana. My release spilled all over Shiroyama-sensei’s hand but I continued thrusting into his hand and pushing back to his cock, wearing myself out in my own pace. As I was fully spent, I slumped into the desk, groaning a bit when my still-hard nipples ruthlessly brushed against the hard surface. Shiroyama-sensei was generous enough not to collapse over me because honestly I don’t think I’d be able to handle his weight anymore. Instead, he placed a few kisses over my shoulders and nape before pulling out. At that I had to smile.
It was like I went back to my position back when I was still in class. Cheek pressed against the desk, looking all flustered and red, except I had no underwear or pants on and this time, I was most certainly satisfied. I panted harshly and closed my eyes, not at all trying to process what just happened but simply trying to gain my sanity back. Suddenly I felt sleepy, but I guess that’s understandable.
I wasn’t roused from my drowsiness until I heard a clank against the desk. I opened my eyes and saw my pants and underwear next to my face, and I jolted up. Shiroyama-sensei was already fully dressed, looking pretty much like before except his clothes were all wrinkly now and the ends of his hair damp with sweat. He held up a pack of wet wipes on one hand and a pack of tissue with another. I immediately snatched those out of his hands and let a small snicker, which turned to a laugh when I faced back from him.
I wiped my flaccid dick with the wet wipes and dried it with tissue, before putting my underwear and pants back on, then threw my garbage on the bin under the table. The desk moved a little when Shiroyama-sensei sat on top of it. I walked towards my seat from earlier and grabbed my bag, refusing to look at him at all. But I couldn’t help myself anyway.
I noticed him looking up and having a nicotine substitute in between his lips. I bet that’s because he wasn’t allowed to smoke in campus, just as he wasn’t exactly allowed to put his lip ring on. There he was, looking all dorky again, and I wondered how my small, simple crush for turned into complete lust. The thought wasn’t enough to get me happy in the pants again, but it did make me blush.
Somehow I thought it would be rude to just walk out of there as if nothing happened. Leaning against the desk, I fiddled on the strap of my bag for a while, before looking up to him. He was still looking up, but then in a few seconds he turned to me and smiled. I felt even more insecure. “W-what are you gonna do a-after, then?” It must be incredibly amusing for him to witness my shame because he was grinning like an idiot now.
Shiroyama-sensei hopped off the seat and grabbed on his bag, before walking towards me and leaned his rear against the desk as well. For a brief moment he looked at me, then shrugged. “Probably jerk off, then go to my masteral class.”
His crude language was something one can get used to in a few talks, and now I really don’t mind. I guess it bothers me more that a professor would have such a vulgar vocabulary, but then again, he too was only human. And besides, having sex with a student should be even more disturbing, so I shouldn’t be complaining anymore.
“What time is your class?” I asked, and it surprised me how innocent my voice came out. He should know that I’m nothing but innocent now, but I really shouldn’t concern myself with that because he’s pretty much the pervert here.
He pursed his lips in thought then shot another glance towards me. “Four.” I fished my phone from my bag and flipped it open to check the time. It was already 3:33. I smiled because that was such an interesting time.
Pushing myself off the desk, I straightened my shirt and brushed my hair with my fingers, thanking the gods that Arts was my last class. I could already get straight to my dorm without a lot of people staring at me curiously. I always did hate getting stared at. “I guess I should go then.”
Shiroyama-sensei jerked away from the desk and straightened up as well, sporting a grin on his face this time as he placed a kiss on my cheek. I raised my brows, but they didn’t hide the color on my cheeks. Then I started to walk away.
“I guess I’ll just be seeing you next class, Takashima-kun,” he shouted out as I neared the door, “Just e-mail me if you have any other… questions.” I swear I could feel the smirk on his face as he said that, and I didn’t even have to look back.
I only offered him a small nod before I pushed the door open, but then remembered it was actually locked. I flipped on the latch and pushed the door open, but stopped in my tracks with the sudden light flooding my eyes. As soon as I was able to adjust, I dashed out of the classroom as fast as I tried getting there earlier, this time with Shiroyama-sensei’s melodious laughter ringing in my mind.
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Longest shit I've written, ever. Please do point out the buttload of mistakes that I've done since I'm incapable of doing that myself. By the way, IM means Instructional Materials. :3
Yes, the porn isn't all that intense, but I wanted the situation to be as real as possible. And there are elements of my actual writing here, a few hints/loose ends which challenges you guys to speculate on what actually happens or what happens next.
Serious business aside, Georgey, this was the original older!/younger!guy fic. Of course I'm still writing that Kai/Reita.
Oh yeah, some of the things here are based on real experience. Which ones those are, I will keep undisclosed. ^^