Re: [Part 13] Colonial Schoolboy America & Strict Teacher England - 2 of 2
anonymous
November 6 2010, 03:13:55 UTC
“The cat and the mouse,” Alfred started shakily as the hands continued southward.
“The cat and the mouse,” Arthur repeated back.
There was something wrong here but Alfred continued, his voice cracking as fingers enclosed around him through the fabric of his pants. “The cat and the mouse are at play.”
“Go on,” Arthur soothed and began a slight circular motion with his hand.
Alfred’s mouth went dry.
“The horse toils in the field.”
Arthur was slipping his finger up, over the band of his trousers, and then down again - skin on skin.
“The horse works long hours,” Alfred’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He could feel Arthur’s fingers, it seemed, the very whorls on them petting, stroking.
“A little bit faster boy,” Arthur commanded his voice gravelly against the back of Alfred’s neck.
“It works long hours,” Alfred gulped as Arthur increased his pace. There was something else pressing into his back, hard and relentless like Arthur’s hand.
“Long hours,” Arthur breathed back, pushing forward. “It works, and works, and works.”
Alfred bit his lip and pushed back into the body behind him. They weren’t on the primer anymore.
“It works and works, striving for something.” Arthur groaned, awakening something primal in Alfred.
His mouth opened in a little “o,” and he shook the timbre of Arthur’s voice.
“More!”
At once, the hand on Alfred was moving quicker, gripping tighter, the body coiled with tension collided against his back as if drawn by a powerful magnet.
“Striving for something, for someone, that someone,” Arthur blustered.
“Oh god,” Alfred groaned. “Come on!”
Arthur obliged, teeth sinking through the transparent shoulder of Alfred’s shirt. Teeth marks on cotton and teeth marks on skin. A great warmness and lighting right behind the balls of Alfred’s eyes and panting and moving and warmth and movement and then - Alfred spilled into Arthur’s hand -- all over the primary book, over the scratchy depiction of farm animals that had once been so familiar to the rural colonial children.
Arthur jerked -- and there was a wetness, against the front of Arthur’s pants, against Alfred’s back. Arthur retreated and carefully moved Alfred until he faced him. He went down on his knees, licking what had been spilt while Alfred leaned against the edge of the teacher’s desk.
“You made me come on a schoolbook,” Alfred said dazedly, staring at Arthur’s quick pink tongue, which lavished him which quick, efficient attention. A few moments later, the movements stopped.
Arthur stood up, seemingly uncaringly of the wet spot on the front of his own clothes and tenderly tucked Alfred (clean and neat, Alfred show me your nails) away. He raised his head to look up at Alfred and Alfred obliged, bent down to kiss him.
“So, this was what I was missing at school,” Alfred said teasingly when he finally broke away.
The back of Alfred’s shirt was completely drenched now. Although Arthur still seemed prim and proper, his hair was disheveled and his breath wasn’t back yet, face rosy in the afterglow.
Alfred reached out and smoothed a thumb across Arthur’s eyebrow, to the flyaway by the right side of Arthur’s face.
Arthur smiled and grabbed his hand, kissed that thumb and the last of that authoritative figure, a shadow, faded away from Alfred’s eyes.
Alfred grinned. “I guess this means we’ll be doing this again.”
Arthur seemed to ponder the offer seriously for a moment, then he smiled.
Re: [Part 13] Colonial Schoolboy America & Strict Teacher England - 2 of 2
anonymous
November 7 2010, 06:20:18 UTC
UNF
BRB, I need to fan myself.
On a more elaborated response: Author!Anon, you hit all my kinks nad you hit them hard. Teacher/student, discipline, coming in pants, recitation... This is a great fill. Congrats, Author!Anon!!
Re: [Part 13] Colonial Schoolboy America & Strict Teacher England - 2 of 2
anonymous
November 12 2010, 21:05:09 UTC
Arthur stood up, seemingly uncaringly of the wet spot on the front of his own clothes and tenderly tucked Alfred (clean and neat, Alfred show me your nails) away
This broke my brain. Oh, dear God, you hit all my kinks so hard.
“The cat and the mouse,” Arthur repeated back.
There was something wrong here but Alfred continued, his voice cracking as fingers enclosed around him through the fabric of his pants. “The cat and the mouse are at play.”
“Go on,” Arthur soothed and began a slight circular motion with his hand.
Alfred’s mouth went dry.
“The horse toils in the field.”
Arthur was slipping his finger up, over the band of his trousers, and then down again - skin on skin.
“The horse works long hours,” Alfred’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He could feel Arthur’s fingers, it seemed, the very whorls on them petting, stroking.
“A little bit faster boy,” Arthur commanded his voice gravelly against the back of Alfred’s neck.
“It works long hours,” Alfred gulped as Arthur increased his pace. There was something else pressing into his back, hard and relentless like Arthur’s hand.
“Long hours,” Arthur breathed back, pushing forward. “It works, and works, and works.”
Alfred bit his lip and pushed back into the body behind him. They weren’t on the primer anymore.
“It works and works, striving for something.” Arthur groaned, awakening something primal in Alfred.
His mouth opened in a little “o,” and he shook the timbre of Arthur’s voice.
“More!”
At once, the hand on Alfred was moving quicker, gripping tighter, the body coiled with tension collided against his back as if drawn by a powerful magnet.
“Striving for something, for someone, that someone,” Arthur blustered.
“Oh god,” Alfred groaned. “Come on!”
Arthur obliged, teeth sinking through the transparent shoulder of Alfred’s shirt. Teeth marks on cotton and teeth marks on skin. A great warmness and lighting right behind the balls of Alfred’s eyes and panting and moving and warmth and movement and then - Alfred spilled into Arthur’s hand -- all over the primary book, over the scratchy depiction of farm animals that had once been so familiar to the rural colonial children.
Arthur jerked -- and there was a wetness, against the front of Arthur’s pants, against Alfred’s back. Arthur retreated and carefully moved Alfred until he faced him. He went down on his knees, licking what had been spilt while Alfred leaned against the edge of the teacher’s desk.
“You made me come on a schoolbook,” Alfred said dazedly, staring at Arthur’s quick pink tongue, which lavished him which quick, efficient attention. A few moments later, the movements stopped.
Arthur stood up, seemingly uncaringly of the wet spot on the front of his own clothes and tenderly tucked Alfred (clean and neat, Alfred show me your nails) away. He raised his head to look up at Alfred and Alfred obliged, bent down to kiss him.
“So, this was what I was missing at school,” Alfred said teasingly when he finally broke away.
The back of Alfred’s shirt was completely drenched now. Although Arthur still seemed prim and proper, his hair was disheveled and his breath wasn’t back yet, face rosy in the afterglow.
Alfred reached out and smoothed a thumb across Arthur’s eyebrow, to the flyaway by the right side of Arthur’s face.
Arthur smiled and grabbed his hand, kissed that thumb and the last of that authoritative figure, a shadow, faded away from Alfred’s eyes.
Alfred grinned. “I guess this means we’ll be doing this again.”
Arthur seemed to ponder the offer seriously for a moment, then he smiled.
“Top marks for inquisitiveness.”
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/diff anon
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BRB, I need to fan myself.
On a more elaborated response: Author!Anon, you hit all my kinks nad you hit them hard. Teacher/student, discipline, coming in pants, recitation... This is a great fill. Congrats, Author!Anon!!
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This broke my brain. Oh, dear God, you hit all my kinks so hard.
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