fic: dirty gratification, nc-17
Title: Dirty Gratification
Authors: sixtieshairdo & sexyscholar
Rating: NC-17. Oh boy.
Pairing: AU!Luke/Reid, snippets of AU!Luke/Noah
Word Count: ~4200
Summary: Okay, so this one time? mamalaz mentioned that she was contemplating an AU!Luke/Reid fic with Reid as a brilliant, crusty English professor and Luke as his newest student - thanks to Daddy Grimaldi's hefty contribution to the university where he teaches. Well. sixtieshairdo and I read that, looked at each other and said "GO TEAM PORN!" And we proceeded to bend that idea over a desk and have our wicked way with it. No, really.
Warnings: D/s, oral sex, hand jobs, dirty talk, barebacking, with a smidge of fluff. Um. Are these really warnings, idk...
Notes: Yeah. So sixtieshairdo and I were pretty much having sex with each other when we were writing this. Quite obviously, she's Reid and I'm Luke. \o/ Oh. And forgive us for making Noah kind of a dupe. :p Unbeta'ed. We were too anxious.
*~*~*
Noah pleads as he mouths at Luke's ear. "You sure you can't you come over?"
"I'm sure -- I have a meeting with my creative writing professor." Luke's answers are clipped. He's already late.
Noah's needy hands are set at the other man's waist, pulling him close while his lips move to Luke's temple. "Wish you didn't."
"Me too," the blond lies. "Listen, Noah -- I've gotta go. I'm already late, and my professor is not a patient guy."
The brunet nods. "Creative writing...you've got Dr. Oliver for that, right? I've heard he's a real taskmaster."
You don't know the half of it, Luke muses, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He clears his throat and straightens up, moving away from the wall that Noah has him pinned against. "He is. So..."
"Right. Maybe I'll stop by your room later..."
Noah is being clingy again. Luke grits his teeth, feeling a frustration seep into his veins. He enjoys the other man's company well enough, he supposes, but right now, Noah is grating on his nerves -- he's keeping Luke away from where he really wants to be.
"If it's not too late when I get back, maybe I'll call", says the blond. He stoops down to pick up his laptop bag and tugs the strap onto his shoulder. Luke puts up his hand in a gesture that isn't quite a wave. "See you."
"Yeah. Hey, Luke?"
"Yeah?"
Noah smiles -- it's a sweet, good-natured smile, and Luke feels a little guilty. Not a lot -- not enough to keep him from his appointment -- but a little. "Don't let him work you too hard."
Luke has to turn away -- he can't hold back the smile that blooms on his lips this time. "I'll try."
*~*~*
"You're late, Mr. Snyder. What happened -- did you bust a cog in your shiny new Rolex?"
Luke rolls his eyes, but strides into the classroom anyway and sets his bag down beside Dr. Oliver's desk. "And yet you're still here," he points out, perching himself on the surface. He looks up at his professor, playing at innocence but failing miserably. He is so eager that his shoulders are positively twitching.
"I've been grading your class' pathetic excuses of research papers. Just one of the tedious little things that we professors have to be bothered with," the older man answers in a low voice. "Don't think it has anything to do with you."
As he speaks, Dr. Oliver is rolling up the sleeves of his linen shirt, exposing lean, muscled forearms. The thick, silver watch on his wrist looks heavy and undeniably masculine nestled in the hair on his arm and Luke swears he can hear the second hand ticking in his head. Luke's fingers itch to grab his professor by the collar, urge him forward and crash their lips together in a heated mash. From there, he'd let his tongue slide over his professor's throat and...
"What do you want, Mr. Snyder? My time is valuable."
There's something warm and dark in Dr. Oliver's tone that sets Luke deliciously on edge, and it shakes him from the thought of running his tongue over the older man's collarbone. "I'm sorry, Professor," he answers quietly, easily slipping into submission.
"Spare me." The professor steps forward, places his warm palm on the side of Luke's neck and strokes his jaw with his thumb. The young man instinctively leans into the touch, relishing his contact. He's jarred when the hand slides away and slips down to the tie around his neck.
Dr. Oliver deftly loosens the knot and pulls it from Luke's collar, silk whispering against cotton. He lets the tie dangle in his hand briefly before straightening it and pulling it tight. Luke gulps.
"Did you want something, Mr. Snyder?"
Luke nods and runs his tongue over suddenly dry lips, his brain acutely aware of the tightness at the front of his pants as Dr. Oliver steps back, his eyes moving up and down his body, surveying him.
"Unbutton your shirt -- slowly."
Luke swallows thickly, his cheeks flush a warm shade of pink and his hands tremble as they move over the buttons of his shirt, undoing each one as slowly as he can manage. He has to take several deep breaths as he goes, trying to steady himself.
He hears a sound akin to a growl rumbling in Dr. Oliver's throat and then more fingers -- Dr. Oliver's long, skilled ones -- are flicking his out of the way and nearly ripping his shirt apart. Luke gasps, a little afraid of, and incredibly turned on by, the professor's insistence.
"I said 'slowly,' not lethargically," Dr. Oliver mutters.
Luke frowns and opens his mouth to protest, but his retort is clipped short as Dr. Oliver's hand clasps around the back of his neck, pulling him close for a searing kiss. His tongue easily works its way into Luke's eagerly parted lips and the younger man moans, feverishly kissing him back and making a sloppy mess of his professor's mouth. He gives in to the need to feel Dr. Oliver's body pressed against his own -- patience be damned -- and reaches out for his shirt.
Before he can make contact, however, the kiss is over and Luke's mind is screaming, no no fuck no. The professor takes one step back and then pulls Luke up from the desk, turning him roughly. He pins Luke's hands to his back and binds his wrists together with the silk tie, drawing a whine from his deliciously aroused pupil.
Dr. Oliver hums. "Bend over, Mr. Snyder."
Luke obeys, carefully easing down until his partially exposed chest is pressed to the desk's surface. Short of breath, he pants and watches a line of saliva drip down from his lower lip and make a tiny pool on the oak finish. He can feel the surge of hot shame burn from his toes to the crown of his head, but it's not enough to curb the exquisite ache in his cock.
God. He wants this.
Dr. Oliver's fingertips are hot when they skim across the open palms of Luke's hands, and his own fingers twitch in response.
The professor's hand makes its way up Luke's back, running over the lines of defining muscle. His thumb grazes the nape of his neck, and then those long, skilled fingers are in his hair, as they grip in the blond locks and pull hard, yanking Luke's head back. Luke can't help the cry that escapes his lips. "Ah!"
The older man presses his mouth to Luke's temple. "Yes, Mr. Snyder? Was there something you wanted to add?"
"I..." Luke's voice is little more than a dry-sounding croak, and he swallows in a futile attempt at regaining composure.
"Please, Professor..."
"'Please,' Mr. Snyder? 'Please' what? Use your words -- you are a writer, aren't you?"
Luke swallows again, his rapid breaths puncturing his sanity.
"I don't --I just."
"I'll have to remember to construct a lesson plan geared toward broadening your vocabulary, Mr. Snyder. But for now..."
"W-what are you going to do?"
The professor chuckles at that, but it's not a warm sound. It's dark. Raspy.
Dirty.
"You've never had to wait for anything in your life, have you Mr. Snyder?" He drags the tip of his tongue along the shell of Luke's ear. "I think that needs to be remedied..."
Luke bites his lower lip in a failed attempt to stifle a moan. He wants this to last as long as Dr. Oliver needs it to -- every nerve ending feels as if it's on fire, and if the professor wants to prolong this delicious torture, Luke is more than happy to comply. His head lolls to the side, allowing Dr. Oliver's hot, slick tongue to lick a line from his ear to the nape of his neck, nibbling at his skin as he went along and giving him goosebumps.
Dr. Oliver's hands continue to roam, slipping under his shirt and tweaking his pebbled nipples between his thumbs and index fingers. Luke's body bucks involuntarily at the contact and he throws his head back against his professor's shoulder, their bodies pressed so close...
His professor's erection is unmistakable as it presses against Luke's palms, and the younger man's mouth falls open again, panting harshly. His mind is flooded with the image of himself, spread open as Dr. Oliver's cock fucks him senseless, and he lets out a throaty moan.
"Was there something else you wanted, Mr. Snyder?"
"I want to suck you," Luke blurts out in response, surprising himself.
Dr. Oliver pulls away, the air that sweeps between their bodies is sharp and cool, and Luke whines in spite of himself. The older man chuckles again before spinning Luke's warm, flushed body so that they're facing each other again.
"What was that, Mr. Snyder?" he asks, his blue eyes turning shades darker behind his glasses. "Again. And properly this time."
"I -- I want to suck you -- Professor," Luke implores, pulling his lower lip between his teeth.
Dr. Oliver grins. "Well, what do you know? He can be taught." He leans into Luke for another hungry kiss before pushing him to his knees.
Luke whimpers and then buries his face into his professor's crotch -- he pokes out his tongue and licks a hot stripe against the straining cotton. Above him, he hears Dr. Oliver gasp with what sounds a little bit like relief, and Luke smiles. The young man looks up at his teacher, hazel eyes wide with an expression of mock innocence, and licks his lips again before offering a plea that seems to drive Dr. Oliver wild.
"Please, sir. I want you in my mouth." Luke presses his lips against the hard line of his erection to emphasize his point.
Dr. Oliver's fingers slide down to his crotch and he unfastens his jeans, carefully working himself out of them. The scent of his professor's hot arousal is sharp and thick as it wafts past his Luke's nose. He admires his professor's cock for just a second before wrapping his mouth around the length and sucking hard, enjoying the surge of power he feels running through his blood.
In his wildest fantasies about Dr. Oliver, of which he'd had an embarrassingly large number of, Luke could never have imagined that he could enjoy something so wholly. He ignores the stinging pain in his kneecaps as he kneels on the floor of his professor's office, and relishes the velvet-like slide of Dr. Oliver's flesh against his tongue, moaning around his mouthful in lusty pleasure.
His professor threads his slender fingers through the hair at the nape of Luke's neck.
"I see you're finally putting that mouth of yours to good use, Mr. Snyder," he comments with a husky groan before pushing harder between the younger man's lips.
Luke whines and sucks harder. Somewhere, far at the back of his mind, he recognizes that he should be ashamed of himself for wanting this so badly, for being so needy of Dr. Oliver's approval, but his lust overpowers this passing thought. He can feel saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth -- it runs down his chin and neck in slick, warm lines to his chest, but he continues to suck, leaning forward and pulling in his cheeks to offer his teacher all the suction he can muster.
Luke wants to impress him, and judging by the filthy grunts and gasps Dr. Oliver has been reduced to, Luke supposes that he's doing a good job. The blond shakes his head lightly, and the professor's hand moves up from the back of his head to the crown and ruffles his hair, almost appreciatively.
"Good boy."
"Nnnngh..." Luke groans and clamps his thighs together. His hands are still bound behind his back -- he wants to touch himself so badly that he fears he may really explode, but he'll never say so. Instead, he pistons his hips forward and back, hoping to bring some kind of relief to his raging erection.
Suddenly, Dr. Oliver is backing away, pulling his cock wetly from Luke's lips. Luke looks up at him, his mouth slack. "Did I do something wrong?"
Dr. Oliver removes his wire-framed glasses, and Luke feels a pinch of regret. The glasses make the professor look unaffected, and he loves that. On the other hand though, without the spectacles in the way, Luke can see the heavy lust in his professor's blue eyes, and decides that he can live without the glasses.
For today.
Luke searches Dr. Oliver's face for some kind of hint as to what he's planning next, but aside from the flush on his angled cheekbones, Dr. Oliver's expression reveals nothing.
His professor rests a hand on his shoulder for a moment, then moves it under his arm and tugs him up from the floor in one swift action. Luke is momentarily surprised by how strong he is, before his mind becomes preoccupied once again by Dr. Oliver's criminally talented tongue seeking and licking his lips. Luke's tongue darts out to meet it, and they twine together in a heated exchange for a few glorious seconds before Dr. Oliver pulls away again, a smirk playing at his mouth.
"Did you like having my cock in your mouth, Mr. Snyder?" Dr. Oliver's wandering hand has traveled beyond the waistband of Luke's pants, and meets his flesh immediately. If Dr. Oliver is surprised by the sudden revelation that his student had given up wearing underwear on the days they meet, he doesn't show it. Fingertips stroke the shaft of Luke's cock and lips graze over his cheek, dragging to his earlobe.
He repeats his inquiry with a raised eyebrow, apparently fully aware of Luke's frazzled brain.
"Did you?" His voice thick and low as it winds down Luke's ear canal.
Luke hisses as his hips push up into his professor's touch. "Y-yes." His chest is heaving, body trembling. Dr. Oliver's stroking is enough to stimulate, but not to make him come, and his need to do so is setting each of his nerve endings on fire.
"Please, sir..."
Dr. Oliver's thumb drags over the head of Luke's cock. "Do I have to remind you? Use your words, Snyder."
"P-please, sir. Fuck me," the blond blurts out, desperation clinging onto his every word.
"So you can get spunk all over my papers? I don't think so." The professor pulls his hand away. "Rich brat," he continues, exhibiting surprising care as he unzips the front of Luke's pants and works his cock free from its confines. "No. We're going to do this my way." Dr. Oliver curls his fingers around his own length, and then Luke's, and begins to stroke them together. "Mine."
The blond moans his agreement at the double entendre. His lips are bruised and a little numb from the work he'd put in with his mouth, and they struggle not to cry out in dirty gratification at the sight of his professor's undoubtedly skilled hand slide effortlessly over their cocks through bleary vision. Everything seems to go a little muzzy, especially when Dr. Oliver runs his thumb over the wet slit of his cock.
Oh. Right. There.
He's so enveloped in his own pleasure that Luke barely notices when Dr. Oliver starts to push down his slacks -- they slide down Luke's legs, making a soft whump as they hit the floor, still looped around his ankles. Luke forces himself to pull his eyes away from the hypnotic visual of their cocks rubbing against each other and gazes straight ahead at his professor.
Dr. Oliver is watching him carefully, pulling at their lengths with practiced precision -- he knows when to speed up and, more tortuously, when to slow down. Luke whines with each new sensation -- his cock is hot and impossibly hard and the older man seems to be enjoying every sordid moment of it, enjoying watching the younger man suffer in his need.
And Luke loves it. He loves that his wrists are bound behind him and his pleasure is in someone else hands...but what Luke loves most is that he knows his professor loves it too. He knows that when his breath hitches, Dr. Oliver growls. That when he wets his swollen lips and opens his mouth to let out an obscene moan, Dr. Oliver's snarl breaks a note higher.
He likes how much power there is in being powerless.
Luke's hips are pushing against his professor's, begging for more friction, more attention, more anything, and Dr. Oliver responds by removing his hand completely, leaving the blond feeling oddly bereft.
"Patience. Do we remember patience, Mr. Snyder?" He breathes against Luke's mouth. He rests his hands on the desk, on either side of Luke, pinning him in place.
The younger man wriggles uselessly. "Dr. Oliver, please..." His hips arc upward, trying to make contact with his professor's body again, but the older man seems to anticipate the attempt and backs away. Luke makes a pleading sound at the back of his throat, desperate to be touched. He recognizes that Dr. Oliver has asked him a question, but he can't summon enough logic to answer it. He's simply too mind-fucked over how hard he is, how badly he wants his professor's cock inside of him.
Now now now.
"Please what?"
Luke gnaws thoughtfully at his bottom lip. He looks up at Dr. Oliver's face from hooded lids and whispers, "I need it. You. This."
The professor's face brightens for a brief moment. "And I need you to be on time." He steps forward again, closing the space between he and Luke. "Do you understand," he whispers, brushing his lips over the blond's. The gesture is uncharacteristically gentle, and Luke makes a sound as if he's about to break.
The younger man wets his lips again, more out of habit than necessity, and then parts them, anticipating another aggressive bout of tongue-fucking. Dr. Oliver, however, seems to have no intention of indulging him. The professor abruptly releases Luke and backs away. The blond watches with confusion, and then disbelief, as Dr. Oliver pulls himself together, rearranging his length into his jeans and putting on his glasses. He folds his arms over his chest and smiles evenly, the very picture of patience and self-control.
Luke, on the other hand, is a qualified mess. He's breathless, tinged pink and trembling slightly. He feels as if he's on a razor's edge, so aroused that it's crossed over into pain. It would only take the trace of a feather against his cock to undo him completely. "Wh-what?" he blubbers.
"A taste of what's it like to have to wait," the professor replies, and Luke detects, for the first time, a note of something other than hard in his voice. He sounds a little bitter, and the younger man thinks that maybe, maybe he understands something about Dr. Oliver that he hadn't before.
Luke sits up on the desk with his legs apart, his prick still hard -- a few drops of pearly fluid have seeped up from the tip. His shoulders are beginning to ache from his hands being bound, but he manages to ignore it. "I think about you a lot, Dr. Oliver," he begins. "From the first day I walked into this classroom and saw you -- the way you sneer at me and my money, the way you push me away and seek to humiliate me at every turn with your taunts -- I haven't been able to get you off of mind."
"Mr. Snyder--"
Luke keeps going, his confidence growing with each breath. "I think about you when I touch myself. I have filthy dreams where you tease me and snark at me and probe me and spank me...but you never fuck me. You lick inside me, all soft and deep, and drive me so close to the edge, but you never put your cock in me. And I wake up hard and wet and it drives me insane."
Dr. Oliver steps closer, eying Luke warily.
"I think about you when Noah fucks me. Every. Single. Time."
"I don't want to--"
The blond grins. "His cock is talented enough, I suppose. He pounds into me, hard and fast, but...I can only come by thinking of you -- you buried inside me. When he hits my spot, everything goes blind and I see you above me instead. When he tells me to say his name, I think of your rude smirk...when I slide his cock in my mouth, I pretend it's yours."
"Luke..." Dr. Oliver is between his legs, one hand on his cheek, his thumb rubbing across his lips. The younger man sucks on the digit - he can taste himself and the professor, mingled together with sweat.
Luke's mind is exploding at the sound of his first name on Dr. Oliver's tongue, but he tucks the idea away, vowing to savor it later. He kicks off his slacks and wraps his legs around his professor, pulling him closer. Their faces are mere inches apart, and Luke swears his can feel the air molecules between them vibrate. Dr. Oliver moves his mouth over Luke's but before their lips can touch, the blond leans away from it.
"How did you know if I was finished?" Luke pauses, and then ventures, "Reid?"
His professor's eyes widen momentarily with surprise before his expression of grand annoyance reclaims his features, and he pulls Luke's head forward, crushing their mouths together. Luke grinds against Reid's crotch, wanting more, needing more. Reid runs his his teeth against Luke's neck, sucking hard on the skin and marking his territory. His hands are clawing furiously under the blond's shirt, scratching lines all over his back.
Luke feels the last shreds of restraint unravel and he pulls his mouth away long enough to beg, "Fuck me, Reid. Fuck me."
Reid pushes him down, Luke's back hitting the desk with surprising grace, and positions himself over the blond, bracing himself with one arm and using the other to pull one of Luke's legs over his shoulder.
"Were you raised without manners...Mr. Snyder?"
"Fuck me please, Professor."
"Open your mouth. Nice and wide." Luke obeys and Reid slides two of his fingers against his tongue. "Get them wet for me."
Luke groans and pushes his tongue between Reid's fingers, proceeding to slip and slide over them and leaving a thick coat of saliva on the digits.
Reid pulls them out and the next thing Luke feels is the press of those wet fingertips against his hole, pushing into him without hesitation. He shudders at the intrusion and tightens his muscles around it. Reid moves the fingers within his channel, scissoring them open and closed, stretching him.
The digits slide away and then there is the sound of unzipping, followed by the pressure of Reid's cock pushing into him, and Luke arches his back, swearing at the delicious mix of pleasure and pain as he's filled up. Reid quickly finds the perfect angle -- making Luke cry out long and loud -- driving himself into the young man beneath him.
The pain in Luke's shoulders has escalated to burning now, but it doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters to Luke except this -- Reid's body joined with his, bare and hard, bringing him to heights of pleasure that he'd only imagined before. His hips buck against his professor's, urging him on.
It doesn't take very long before Luke is crying out a string of fuck fuck fuck oh God fuck as his orgasm plows into him, wrenching through his entire body and leaving him breathless and utterly spent against the desk. He feels Reid's body tense almost immediately with his own climax -- the older man groans thickly and closes his eyes, his cock spasming within Luke's body and releasing hot splatters of fluid inside of him.
"Jesus. Fuck." Reid breathes. He gingerly lowers Luke's leg from his shoulder and helps him up, reaching behind him and undoing the tie around Luke's wrists.
Luke feels the rush of blood surging through his numb hands, letting out a relieved smile as he flexes his fingers. Reid watches this simple act with a surprising amount of concern, his mind worried at the prospect of having hurt Luke.
The blond, soft and limp with sleep and satisfaction, takes advantage of their closeness and rests his forehead in the crook of Reid's neck, his fingers play with the tail of Reid's shirt.
"Reid," he murmurs against the sweat-slicked skin there.
Reid is silent for a long moment and when he does speak, there's a rare note of fear in his voice. "Luke, what happens now? What do I do with you?"
"Mmm, more of that." Luke kisses Reid's neck and wraps his legs tighter around the other man's waist.
Reid's arms around Luke struggle not to hold the sated boy possessively, but fail miserably.
"Leave him."
Luke looks up at that, genuinely confused. "What?"
Reid runs his knuckles against Luke's cheekbone. "Leave him. That Noah kid. I refuse to share you. Got it?"
Luke beams. He can buy and sell his professor's soul with his smile, and he knows it. He moves his mouth over Reid's.
"Done," he whispers. "But promise me something?"
Reid chuckles. "Let's hear it."
Luke picks up the discarded tie, warm and damp with sweat.
"Next time? It's your turn to get tied up. It's only fair."
Something dark flashes in Reid's eyes before he presses a kiss to Luke's swollen lips, and he murmurs a single word.
"Done."
Authors: sixtieshairdo & sexyscholar
Rating: NC-17. Oh boy.
Pairing: AU!Luke/Reid, snippets of AU!Luke/Noah
Word Count: ~4200
Summary: Okay, so this one time? mamalaz mentioned that she was contemplating an AU!Luke/Reid fic with Reid as a brilliant, crusty English professor and Luke as his newest student - thanks to Daddy Grimaldi's hefty contribution to the university where he teaches. Well. sixtieshairdo and I read that, looked at each other and said "GO TEAM PORN!" And we proceeded to bend that idea over a desk and have our wicked way with it. No, really.
Warnings: D/s, oral sex, hand jobs, dirty talk, barebacking, with a smidge of fluff. Um. Are these really warnings, idk...
Notes: Yeah. So sixtieshairdo and I were pretty much having sex with each other when we were writing this. Quite obviously, she's Reid and I'm Luke. \o/ Oh. And forgive us for making Noah kind of a dupe. :p Unbeta'ed. We were too anxious.
*~*~*
Noah pleads as he mouths at Luke's ear. "You sure you can't you come over?"
"I'm sure -- I have a meeting with my creative writing professor." Luke's answers are clipped. He's already late.
Noah's needy hands are set at the other man's waist, pulling him close while his lips move to Luke's temple. "Wish you didn't."
"Me too," the blond lies. "Listen, Noah -- I've gotta go. I'm already late, and my professor is not a patient guy."
The brunet nods. "Creative writing...you've got Dr. Oliver for that, right? I've heard he's a real taskmaster."
You don't know the half of it, Luke muses, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He clears his throat and straightens up, moving away from the wall that Noah has him pinned against. "He is. So..."
"Right. Maybe I'll stop by your room later..."
Noah is being clingy again. Luke grits his teeth, feeling a frustration seep into his veins. He enjoys the other man's company well enough, he supposes, but right now, Noah is grating on his nerves -- he's keeping Luke away from where he really wants to be.
"If it's not too late when I get back, maybe I'll call", says the blond. He stoops down to pick up his laptop bag and tugs the strap onto his shoulder. Luke puts up his hand in a gesture that isn't quite a wave. "See you."
"Yeah. Hey, Luke?"
"Yeah?"
Noah smiles -- it's a sweet, good-natured smile, and Luke feels a little guilty. Not a lot -- not enough to keep him from his appointment -- but a little. "Don't let him work you too hard."
Luke has to turn away -- he can't hold back the smile that blooms on his lips this time. "I'll try."
*~*~*
"You're late, Mr. Snyder. What happened -- did you bust a cog in your shiny new Rolex?"
Luke rolls his eyes, but strides into the classroom anyway and sets his bag down beside Dr. Oliver's desk. "And yet you're still here," he points out, perching himself on the surface. He looks up at his professor, playing at innocence but failing miserably. He is so eager that his shoulders are positively twitching.
"I've been grading your class' pathetic excuses of research papers. Just one of the tedious little things that we professors have to be bothered with," the older man answers in a low voice. "Don't think it has anything to do with you."
As he speaks, Dr. Oliver is rolling up the sleeves of his linen shirt, exposing lean, muscled forearms. The thick, silver watch on his wrist looks heavy and undeniably masculine nestled in the hair on his arm and Luke swears he can hear the second hand ticking in his head. Luke's fingers itch to grab his professor by the collar, urge him forward and crash their lips together in a heated mash. From there, he'd let his tongue slide over his professor's throat and...
"What do you want, Mr. Snyder? My time is valuable."
There's something warm and dark in Dr. Oliver's tone that sets Luke deliciously on edge, and it shakes him from the thought of running his tongue over the older man's collarbone. "I'm sorry, Professor," he answers quietly, easily slipping into submission.
"Spare me." The professor steps forward, places his warm palm on the side of Luke's neck and strokes his jaw with his thumb. The young man instinctively leans into the touch, relishing his contact. He's jarred when the hand slides away and slips down to the tie around his neck.
Dr. Oliver deftly loosens the knot and pulls it from Luke's collar, silk whispering against cotton. He lets the tie dangle in his hand briefly before straightening it and pulling it tight. Luke gulps.
"Did you want something, Mr. Snyder?"
Luke nods and runs his tongue over suddenly dry lips, his brain acutely aware of the tightness at the front of his pants as Dr. Oliver steps back, his eyes moving up and down his body, surveying him.
"Unbutton your shirt -- slowly."
Luke swallows thickly, his cheeks flush a warm shade of pink and his hands tremble as they move over the buttons of his shirt, undoing each one as slowly as he can manage. He has to take several deep breaths as he goes, trying to steady himself.
He hears a sound akin to a growl rumbling in Dr. Oliver's throat and then more fingers -- Dr. Oliver's long, skilled ones -- are flicking his out of the way and nearly ripping his shirt apart. Luke gasps, a little afraid of, and incredibly turned on by, the professor's insistence.
"I said 'slowly,' not lethargically," Dr. Oliver mutters.
Luke frowns and opens his mouth to protest, but his retort is clipped short as Dr. Oliver's hand clasps around the back of his neck, pulling him close for a searing kiss. His tongue easily works its way into Luke's eagerly parted lips and the younger man moans, feverishly kissing him back and making a sloppy mess of his professor's mouth. He gives in to the need to feel Dr. Oliver's body pressed against his own -- patience be damned -- and reaches out for his shirt.
Before he can make contact, however, the kiss is over and Luke's mind is screaming, no no fuck no. The professor takes one step back and then pulls Luke up from the desk, turning him roughly. He pins Luke's hands to his back and binds his wrists together with the silk tie, drawing a whine from his deliciously aroused pupil.
Dr. Oliver hums. "Bend over, Mr. Snyder."
Luke obeys, carefully easing down until his partially exposed chest is pressed to the desk's surface. Short of breath, he pants and watches a line of saliva drip down from his lower lip and make a tiny pool on the oak finish. He can feel the surge of hot shame burn from his toes to the crown of his head, but it's not enough to curb the exquisite ache in his cock.
God. He wants this.
Dr. Oliver's fingertips are hot when they skim across the open palms of Luke's hands, and his own fingers twitch in response.
The professor's hand makes its way up Luke's back, running over the lines of defining muscle. His thumb grazes the nape of his neck, and then those long, skilled fingers are in his hair, as they grip in the blond locks and pull hard, yanking Luke's head back. Luke can't help the cry that escapes his lips. "Ah!"
The older man presses his mouth to Luke's temple. "Yes, Mr. Snyder? Was there something you wanted to add?"
"I..." Luke's voice is little more than a dry-sounding croak, and he swallows in a futile attempt at regaining composure.
"Please, Professor..."
"'Please,' Mr. Snyder? 'Please' what? Use your words -- you are a writer, aren't you?"
Luke swallows again, his rapid breaths puncturing his sanity.
"I don't --I just."
"I'll have to remember to construct a lesson plan geared toward broadening your vocabulary, Mr. Snyder. But for now..."
"W-what are you going to do?"
The professor chuckles at that, but it's not a warm sound. It's dark. Raspy.
Dirty.
"You've never had to wait for anything in your life, have you Mr. Snyder?" He drags the tip of his tongue along the shell of Luke's ear. "I think that needs to be remedied..."
Luke bites his lower lip in a failed attempt to stifle a moan. He wants this to last as long as Dr. Oliver needs it to -- every nerve ending feels as if it's on fire, and if the professor wants to prolong this delicious torture, Luke is more than happy to comply. His head lolls to the side, allowing Dr. Oliver's hot, slick tongue to lick a line from his ear to the nape of his neck, nibbling at his skin as he went along and giving him goosebumps.
Dr. Oliver's hands continue to roam, slipping under his shirt and tweaking his pebbled nipples between his thumbs and index fingers. Luke's body bucks involuntarily at the contact and he throws his head back against his professor's shoulder, their bodies pressed so close...
His professor's erection is unmistakable as it presses against Luke's palms, and the younger man's mouth falls open again, panting harshly. His mind is flooded with the image of himself, spread open as Dr. Oliver's cock fucks him senseless, and he lets out a throaty moan.
"Was there something else you wanted, Mr. Snyder?"
"I want to suck you," Luke blurts out in response, surprising himself.
Dr. Oliver pulls away, the air that sweeps between their bodies is sharp and cool, and Luke whines in spite of himself. The older man chuckles again before spinning Luke's warm, flushed body so that they're facing each other again.
"What was that, Mr. Snyder?" he asks, his blue eyes turning shades darker behind his glasses. "Again. And properly this time."
"I -- I want to suck you -- Professor," Luke implores, pulling his lower lip between his teeth.
Dr. Oliver grins. "Well, what do you know? He can be taught." He leans into Luke for another hungry kiss before pushing him to his knees.
Luke whimpers and then buries his face into his professor's crotch -- he pokes out his tongue and licks a hot stripe against the straining cotton. Above him, he hears Dr. Oliver gasp with what sounds a little bit like relief, and Luke smiles. The young man looks up at his teacher, hazel eyes wide with an expression of mock innocence, and licks his lips again before offering a plea that seems to drive Dr. Oliver wild.
"Please, sir. I want you in my mouth." Luke presses his lips against the hard line of his erection to emphasize his point.
Dr. Oliver's fingers slide down to his crotch and he unfastens his jeans, carefully working himself out of them. The scent of his professor's hot arousal is sharp and thick as it wafts past his Luke's nose. He admires his professor's cock for just a second before wrapping his mouth around the length and sucking hard, enjoying the surge of power he feels running through his blood.
In his wildest fantasies about Dr. Oliver, of which he'd had an embarrassingly large number of, Luke could never have imagined that he could enjoy something so wholly. He ignores the stinging pain in his kneecaps as he kneels on the floor of his professor's office, and relishes the velvet-like slide of Dr. Oliver's flesh against his tongue, moaning around his mouthful in lusty pleasure.
His professor threads his slender fingers through the hair at the nape of Luke's neck.
"I see you're finally putting that mouth of yours to good use, Mr. Snyder," he comments with a husky groan before pushing harder between the younger man's lips.
Luke whines and sucks harder. Somewhere, far at the back of his mind, he recognizes that he should be ashamed of himself for wanting this so badly, for being so needy of Dr. Oliver's approval, but his lust overpowers this passing thought. He can feel saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth -- it runs down his chin and neck in slick, warm lines to his chest, but he continues to suck, leaning forward and pulling in his cheeks to offer his teacher all the suction he can muster.
Luke wants to impress him, and judging by the filthy grunts and gasps Dr. Oliver has been reduced to, Luke supposes that he's doing a good job. The blond shakes his head lightly, and the professor's hand moves up from the back of his head to the crown and ruffles his hair, almost appreciatively.
"Good boy."
"Nnnngh..." Luke groans and clamps his thighs together. His hands are still bound behind his back -- he wants to touch himself so badly that he fears he may really explode, but he'll never say so. Instead, he pistons his hips forward and back, hoping to bring some kind of relief to his raging erection.
Suddenly, Dr. Oliver is backing away, pulling his cock wetly from Luke's lips. Luke looks up at him, his mouth slack. "Did I do something wrong?"
Dr. Oliver removes his wire-framed glasses, and Luke feels a pinch of regret. The glasses make the professor look unaffected, and he loves that. On the other hand though, without the spectacles in the way, Luke can see the heavy lust in his professor's blue eyes, and decides that he can live without the glasses.
For today.
Luke searches Dr. Oliver's face for some kind of hint as to what he's planning next, but aside from the flush on his angled cheekbones, Dr. Oliver's expression reveals nothing.
His professor rests a hand on his shoulder for a moment, then moves it under his arm and tugs him up from the floor in one swift action. Luke is momentarily surprised by how strong he is, before his mind becomes preoccupied once again by Dr. Oliver's criminally talented tongue seeking and licking his lips. Luke's tongue darts out to meet it, and they twine together in a heated exchange for a few glorious seconds before Dr. Oliver pulls away again, a smirk playing at his mouth.
"Did you like having my cock in your mouth, Mr. Snyder?" Dr. Oliver's wandering hand has traveled beyond the waistband of Luke's pants, and meets his flesh immediately. If Dr. Oliver is surprised by the sudden revelation that his student had given up wearing underwear on the days they meet, he doesn't show it. Fingertips stroke the shaft of Luke's cock and lips graze over his cheek, dragging to his earlobe.
He repeats his inquiry with a raised eyebrow, apparently fully aware of Luke's frazzled brain.
"Did you?" His voice thick and low as it winds down Luke's ear canal.
Luke hisses as his hips push up into his professor's touch. "Y-yes." His chest is heaving, body trembling. Dr. Oliver's stroking is enough to stimulate, but not to make him come, and his need to do so is setting each of his nerve endings on fire.
"Please, sir..."
Dr. Oliver's thumb drags over the head of Luke's cock. "Do I have to remind you? Use your words, Snyder."
"P-please, sir. Fuck me," the blond blurts out, desperation clinging onto his every word.
"So you can get spunk all over my papers? I don't think so." The professor pulls his hand away. "Rich brat," he continues, exhibiting surprising care as he unzips the front of Luke's pants and works his cock free from its confines. "No. We're going to do this my way." Dr. Oliver curls his fingers around his own length, and then Luke's, and begins to stroke them together. "Mine."
The blond moans his agreement at the double entendre. His lips are bruised and a little numb from the work he'd put in with his mouth, and they struggle not to cry out in dirty gratification at the sight of his professor's undoubtedly skilled hand slide effortlessly over their cocks through bleary vision. Everything seems to go a little muzzy, especially when Dr. Oliver runs his thumb over the wet slit of his cock.
Oh. Right. There.
He's so enveloped in his own pleasure that Luke barely notices when Dr. Oliver starts to push down his slacks -- they slide down Luke's legs, making a soft whump as they hit the floor, still looped around his ankles. Luke forces himself to pull his eyes away from the hypnotic visual of their cocks rubbing against each other and gazes straight ahead at his professor.
Dr. Oliver is watching him carefully, pulling at their lengths with practiced precision -- he knows when to speed up and, more tortuously, when to slow down. Luke whines with each new sensation -- his cock is hot and impossibly hard and the older man seems to be enjoying every sordid moment of it, enjoying watching the younger man suffer in his need.
And Luke loves it. He loves that his wrists are bound behind him and his pleasure is in someone else hands...but what Luke loves most is that he knows his professor loves it too. He knows that when his breath hitches, Dr. Oliver growls. That when he wets his swollen lips and opens his mouth to let out an obscene moan, Dr. Oliver's snarl breaks a note higher.
He likes how much power there is in being powerless.
Luke's hips are pushing against his professor's, begging for more friction, more attention, more anything, and Dr. Oliver responds by removing his hand completely, leaving the blond feeling oddly bereft.
"Patience. Do we remember patience, Mr. Snyder?" He breathes against Luke's mouth. He rests his hands on the desk, on either side of Luke, pinning him in place.
The younger man wriggles uselessly. "Dr. Oliver, please..." His hips arc upward, trying to make contact with his professor's body again, but the older man seems to anticipate the attempt and backs away. Luke makes a pleading sound at the back of his throat, desperate to be touched. He recognizes that Dr. Oliver has asked him a question, but he can't summon enough logic to answer it. He's simply too mind-fucked over how hard he is, how badly he wants his professor's cock inside of him.
Now now now.
"Please what?"
Luke gnaws thoughtfully at his bottom lip. He looks up at Dr. Oliver's face from hooded lids and whispers, "I need it. You. This."
The professor's face brightens for a brief moment. "And I need you to be on time." He steps forward again, closing the space between he and Luke. "Do you understand," he whispers, brushing his lips over the blond's. The gesture is uncharacteristically gentle, and Luke makes a sound as if he's about to break.
The younger man wets his lips again, more out of habit than necessity, and then parts them, anticipating another aggressive bout of tongue-fucking. Dr. Oliver, however, seems to have no intention of indulging him. The professor abruptly releases Luke and backs away. The blond watches with confusion, and then disbelief, as Dr. Oliver pulls himself together, rearranging his length into his jeans and putting on his glasses. He folds his arms over his chest and smiles evenly, the very picture of patience and self-control.
Luke, on the other hand, is a qualified mess. He's breathless, tinged pink and trembling slightly. He feels as if he's on a razor's edge, so aroused that it's crossed over into pain. It would only take the trace of a feather against his cock to undo him completely. "Wh-what?" he blubbers.
"A taste of what's it like to have to wait," the professor replies, and Luke detects, for the first time, a note of something other than hard in his voice. He sounds a little bitter, and the younger man thinks that maybe, maybe he understands something about Dr. Oliver that he hadn't before.
Luke sits up on the desk with his legs apart, his prick still hard -- a few drops of pearly fluid have seeped up from the tip. His shoulders are beginning to ache from his hands being bound, but he manages to ignore it. "I think about you a lot, Dr. Oliver," he begins. "From the first day I walked into this classroom and saw you -- the way you sneer at me and my money, the way you push me away and seek to humiliate me at every turn with your taunts -- I haven't been able to get you off of mind."
"Mr. Snyder--"
Luke keeps going, his confidence growing with each breath. "I think about you when I touch myself. I have filthy dreams where you tease me and snark at me and probe me and spank me...but you never fuck me. You lick inside me, all soft and deep, and drive me so close to the edge, but you never put your cock in me. And I wake up hard and wet and it drives me insane."
Dr. Oliver steps closer, eying Luke warily.
"I think about you when Noah fucks me. Every. Single. Time."
"I don't want to--"
The blond grins. "His cock is talented enough, I suppose. He pounds into me, hard and fast, but...I can only come by thinking of you -- you buried inside me. When he hits my spot, everything goes blind and I see you above me instead. When he tells me to say his name, I think of your rude smirk...when I slide his cock in my mouth, I pretend it's yours."
"Luke..." Dr. Oliver is between his legs, one hand on his cheek, his thumb rubbing across his lips. The younger man sucks on the digit - he can taste himself and the professor, mingled together with sweat.
Luke's mind is exploding at the sound of his first name on Dr. Oliver's tongue, but he tucks the idea away, vowing to savor it later. He kicks off his slacks and wraps his legs around his professor, pulling him closer. Their faces are mere inches apart, and Luke swears his can feel the air molecules between them vibrate. Dr. Oliver moves his mouth over Luke's but before their lips can touch, the blond leans away from it.
"How did you know if I was finished?" Luke pauses, and then ventures, "Reid?"
His professor's eyes widen momentarily with surprise before his expression of grand annoyance reclaims his features, and he pulls Luke's head forward, crushing their mouths together. Luke grinds against Reid's crotch, wanting more, needing more. Reid runs his his teeth against Luke's neck, sucking hard on the skin and marking his territory. His hands are clawing furiously under the blond's shirt, scratching lines all over his back.
Luke feels the last shreds of restraint unravel and he pulls his mouth away long enough to beg, "Fuck me, Reid. Fuck me."
Reid pushes him down, Luke's back hitting the desk with surprising grace, and positions himself over the blond, bracing himself with one arm and using the other to pull one of Luke's legs over his shoulder.
"Were you raised without manners...Mr. Snyder?"
"Fuck me please, Professor."
"Open your mouth. Nice and wide." Luke obeys and Reid slides two of his fingers against his tongue. "Get them wet for me."
Luke groans and pushes his tongue between Reid's fingers, proceeding to slip and slide over them and leaving a thick coat of saliva on the digits.
Reid pulls them out and the next thing Luke feels is the press of those wet fingertips against his hole, pushing into him without hesitation. He shudders at the intrusion and tightens his muscles around it. Reid moves the fingers within his channel, scissoring them open and closed, stretching him.
The digits slide away and then there is the sound of unzipping, followed by the pressure of Reid's cock pushing into him, and Luke arches his back, swearing at the delicious mix of pleasure and pain as he's filled up. Reid quickly finds the perfect angle -- making Luke cry out long and loud -- driving himself into the young man beneath him.
The pain in Luke's shoulders has escalated to burning now, but it doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters to Luke except this -- Reid's body joined with his, bare and hard, bringing him to heights of pleasure that he'd only imagined before. His hips buck against his professor's, urging him on.
It doesn't take very long before Luke is crying out a string of fuck fuck fuck oh God fuck as his orgasm plows into him, wrenching through his entire body and leaving him breathless and utterly spent against the desk. He feels Reid's body tense almost immediately with his own climax -- the older man groans thickly and closes his eyes, his cock spasming within Luke's body and releasing hot splatters of fluid inside of him.
"Jesus. Fuck." Reid breathes. He gingerly lowers Luke's leg from his shoulder and helps him up, reaching behind him and undoing the tie around Luke's wrists.
Luke feels the rush of blood surging through his numb hands, letting out a relieved smile as he flexes his fingers. Reid watches this simple act with a surprising amount of concern, his mind worried at the prospect of having hurt Luke.
The blond, soft and limp with sleep and satisfaction, takes advantage of their closeness and rests his forehead in the crook of Reid's neck, his fingers play with the tail of Reid's shirt.
"Reid," he murmurs against the sweat-slicked skin there.
Reid is silent for a long moment and when he does speak, there's a rare note of fear in his voice. "Luke, what happens now? What do I do with you?"
"Mmm, more of that." Luke kisses Reid's neck and wraps his legs tighter around the other man's waist.
Reid's arms around Luke struggle not to hold the sated boy possessively, but fail miserably.
"Leave him."
Luke looks up at that, genuinely confused. "What?"
Reid runs his knuckles against Luke's cheekbone. "Leave him. That Noah kid. I refuse to share you. Got it?"
Luke beams. He can buy and sell his professor's soul with his smile, and he knows it. He moves his mouth over Reid's.
"Done," he whispers. "But promise me something?"
Reid chuckles. "Let's hear it."
Luke picks up the discarded tie, warm and damp with sweat.
"Next time? It's your turn to get tied up. It's only fair."
Something dark flashes in Reid's eyes before he presses a kiss to Luke's swollen lips, and he murmurs a single word.
"Done."