<h1>Go get some, Aethas!</h1>
//(This is a work of transformative fiction, engage with it accordingly. 18+)//
Follow young Aethas, grad student, as he navigates a startling, sudden influx of attractive men who all seem to want in his pants! Whatever (whoever) shall he do?!
[[> Become Aethas]]<<set $lor = 0>> <<set $rom = 0>> <<set $hal = 0>><h4>> Become Aethas:</h4>
You’re warm and comfortable. The sheets are like silky clouds against your bare skin, and what’s even better is that you don’t even have to look to know that you’re not alone beneath them.
A hand strokes up from your hip, up your side and around to your front to palm a nipple. You gasp and arch, and there’s a chuckle behind you. The hand presses you back against a warm, broad chest as a pair of lips drag along your shoulder, up toward your neck.
The callous on your companion’s thumb catches oh-so-delightfully on the hardened peak of your nipple, leaving you torn between pushing your chest into it and your neck into the teeth scraping it. Your friend makes the choice easy, immobilizing you with that same hand coming up to grasp your throat by the front as his mouth begins to suck and bite marks along the length of it.
You let out a breathy moan, and he murmurs your name,
//“Aethas…”//
And again,
//“Aethas… Aethas…”//
[[> “AETHAS!”]]<h4>> Head home:</h4>
After that confusing exchange – hell, confusing //day,// honestly – it’s a relief to get back to the dorm. The old brick building with its stark halogen lit corridor feels almost like home. You pass by the kitchen and the den on your way to your room, and spy Hathorel on a chair half-watching the Sports Game someone’s put on the TV but mostly looking at his phone. A quick detour reveals that the communal shower room is free, so you grab your pajamas and shower kit from your room and nab it while you have the chance.
Once you get in the shower proper you notice that there’s some cooked macaroni by the drain. That’s… weird. Okay. You shrug, nudge it aside, and get your wash on. Your RA, Ravandwyr, actually does a great job gently bullying you all into keeping the dorm habitable, but strange things still happen. Inoffensive compared to the stray condom, you muse as you get out and start drying off, but all the same: maybe no more pasta today. Unless someone has stolen it, you should have a frozen pizza in the freezer, and that sounds perfect right about now.
Your pizza turns out to have been left in peace by your housemates, and while you wait for it, Hathorel texts you a picture of your own Switch with Super Smash Bros. loaded up followed by a string of emojis you interpret as some sort of challenge to combat. Hell yeah.
The two of you end up playing past midnight, ending on a draw you sleepily swear won’t stand for long, before you both pass out.
[[> Get a late start->late start]]<h4>> Get a late start:</h4>
By the time you wake up – chaste and wholesome today, thank you very much – Hathorel is nowhere to be seen. It’s almost eleven, which is probably why; Hathorel is in class while you have a free day. In theory, at least. You have your thesis, but more urgently you have to help correct the quizzes for Rommath in the afternoon, so you figure that you might as well eat breakfast-slash-lunch at the cafeteria. You make yourself presentable and then, remembering your promise to “Hal”, put a towel and some sweatpants and a soft t-shirt in a tote bag. Thus fortified, you put your converse on and leave with the bag in hand.
Passing by the coffee shop your heart speeds up, but of course the man from yesterday isn’t in there. Not that you looked! Anyway, their coffee is better than the stuff the cafeteria sells, so you buy a latte while you’re already inside. You can take your time, Rommath won’t expect you until around one o’clock so you’re free to enjoy your walk. The nearby nature preserve //forests// at you invitingly, but even on a warm day you’re not exactly a “forest guy”. It’s windy today, and cold, too. You grip your improvised gym bag and keep walking down the sidewalk, warming your hands with your coffee mug.
It’s a sleepy little college town, one that gives the impression that cars were an afterthought to the people. Nearly half of the population are students, and besides the occasional no-holds-barred party it’s all much quieter than the city you grew up in. You like it. But you’re still not a “forest guy”.
The cafeteria is fairly quiet, as you made it here before the last morning classes let out, so you take your sweet time selecting the salmon and potatoes. Vegetables are conductive to working out, right? Whatever, you don’t want more pasta or pizza, so fish it is.
“Hello there,” someone says as you grab a seltzer, and you nearly jump out of your skin.
Turning your head, you’re surprised to find the wall, no, the man you literally ran into at the coffee shop yesterday morning! Your surprise must be evident, because he chuckles and it’s so warm and deep you blush, //again.//
“H-hi?” you stammer. “Sorry about yesterday. Again.”
You wince, wow, awkward as always, but he simply shrugs amicably, selecting a seltzer of his own and adding it to his tray before nodding toward the tables.
“No worries,” he says as you follow him to a small table by the window. He sits with his good eye toward the cafeteria. “You were clearly in a hurry. I should have been more careful, too.”
You don’t know how to politely point out his disadvantage, which the man is surely aware of, duh, so you just nod and try to smile. And now you’re having lunch with the guy. Who… works here? Goes here…? You decide to err on the side of caution.
“Are you a member of the faculty? I’m sorry, I only really know the physics department,” you ask with a self-deprecating smile.
“Not quite, no. I head up the security on campus. Though,” he grins back at you and you want to melt. “My office //is// in the physics wing, as it would happen.”
“Oh, now I feel bad! I really should know you then, I apologize,” you laugh, and he laughs with you.
“Well, we’re meeting now, aren’t we? I’m Lor’themar,” he says and reaches over the table, offering you a handshake. You take it, saying,
“I’m Aethas, I’m a TA for Rommath.”
Lor’themar gets a gleam in his eye but doesn’t comment beyond humming,
“Rommath, I see. You must be quite talented, then, to manage both that as well as your own studies.”
Your nerves are melting away under his warm charm. You’re leaning over your meal to get closer to him, you realize with a start. Blushing, you lean back and go back to your food for a moment, trying to calm yourself down. A damning glance at the other man reveals that he is smirking at you, and you duck your head back down. Is he… flirting with you?
“I can show you my office later, if you’d like. So you know where to go, on matters of security.”
Oh, God. He is!
<<link "> Be daring and smile back at him ( + <3 )" "lor bonus">>
<<set $lor = $lor + 1>>
<</link>>
[[> Duck your head and shrug->no lor]]<h4>> Somehow survive the rest of lunch:</h4>
Once your plate is empty and you really can’t drag your heels any longer, you bid Lor’themar goodbye and jog over to the physics building. The wind seems to be picking up outside because the corridors are chilly, the old building’s insulation leaving something to be desired. In contrast, Rommath’s office is positively cozy.
You carefully step inside, quickly checking that you aren’t dragging in any dirt, putting your tote on one chair and yourself on the other.
Rommath glances up as you enter, peering at you and at your bulky bag over his glasses.
“I was thinking I’d use the gym after this,” you offer, though Rommath hasn’t asked.
“Hm,” is all he says to that, splitting his stack of quizzes in half and handing you the bottom half along with the sheet of paper containing the correct answers.
For a while there is only the sound of pens on paper, but the comfortable quiet is abruptly interrupted by the pattering, almost violent sound of rain hitting the windowpane, loud enough that it’s as though it is trying to break in. Man. You deflate a little, staring morosely outside. You’re really not looking forward to your walk home if the weather holds.
“If it’s still raining by the time we are done here,” Rommath suddenly says, breaking the silence, “I could drive you home.”
“Um,” you hedge, torn between seeing Hal again and abandoning him to get an exclusive ride with Rommath. “Maybe…?”
“I’ll wait for your… gymming, even.”
Is that a smile, tugging at the corner of the professor’s mouth? Unheard of!
“There’s always work to be done, after all,” he continues as though it is regular and normal for him to offer such a thing to a lowly TA, “and far be it from me to discourage healthy exercise.”
“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you,” you force yourself to say because it’s the right thing to do, keeping your gaze locked on the quiz before you.
Yikes, you think with a wince, this poor kid has not been doing their readings, huh. You make a note of the name as someone to check in on, and see if they need help with the material, then put the page at the bottom of your stack, moving on to the next.
“Nonsense. If it was inconvenient I simply wouldn’t offer. Besides, you didn’t have any other business on campus today, yes? I’m merely taking responsibility for my summoning you here.”
Wow, he’s being downright chatty. And nice. Rommath gets a new quiz and lets out a scoff, shakes his head, and decisively writes NO next to the first answer, underlining it twice. You can’t help but snort a laugh, but Rommath frowns at it for a beat.
“If the students do poorly, I’ve failed as a teacher,” he suddenly says.
His shoulders are tense under his blazer, you’re surprised to see, and his brows are furrowed even more harshly than usual as he glares down at his own NO.
“That’s an admirable attitude to have, I think,” you venture carefully. “I’ve had teachers who were proud to fail students, proud that their tests were difficult.
“But this is just a quiz, to find weak points //before// the moment of truth, right? It’s doing what it was designed to do. We’ll interfere now, before it gets dire. I wouldn’t start worrying just yet, professor.”
You smile as reassuringly as you know how at him, and he just blinks at you, before huffing a laugh. Now he really is smiling, and at the sight of it your mouth goes dry. You don’t quite know how to hold a pen, suddenly.
“You’re sweet. Idealistic, but sweet.”
Is there a mathematical equation to calculate the speed of a blush? The thought doesn’t slow yours down any, and you duck your head, embarrassed.
“Chin up, Aethas. We’ve got plenty more to go, still.”
You nod mutely, hoping that the floor will swallow you up. It fails to do so, alas, and so you spend the next hour correcting quizzes, and eventually you get into the flow of things again, forgetting to be embarrassed and even finding it in yourself to stand your ground.
“– it may not be eloquent but the spirit of the question is answered, and correctly!”
“I’m not in the habit of awarding half-points, Aethas, but all right.”
Rommath rolls his eyes at you, an almost fond look in his eyes as you grin triumphantly and write down, one-point-five. If the student wants to know what wasn’t quite right, they’ll come ask, as intended.
When you look up, he’s still looking at you almost fondly, and you send him a look of bewilderment in return.
“What?”
“Don’t get any funny ideas, //but,// I appreciate that you challenge me. To a point.”
<<link "> Grin at him and say, “Noted.” ( + <3 )" "rom bonus">>
<<set $rom = $rom + 1>>
<</link>>
[[> “Sorry...”->no rom]]<h4>> Finish the remaining quizzes:</h4>
Having finished all the quizzes, you leave Rommath’s office feeling rather scrambled, truth be told, but not before he’s extracted a promise from you to meet him in the building foyer in two hours’ time.
Once you descend the stairs to the ground floor you hear,
“Hey! Aethas!”
Turning, you find Hal splayed out in one of the horribly uncomfortable seats facing the reception. He removes his earbuds and you catch a strain of tinny rock music before he turns them off, grinning up at you all the while.
He’s wearing a biker's leather jacket, and, indeed, there is a helmet on the seat next to him. He notices you looking, and says,
“D’you ride?”
He says it in such a way you can’t help but blush, //again,// curse your pale skin. You shake your head vehemently, both in the negatory and to try to calm your overeager blood (not that this seems to work).
“No, not at all. I’ve never even been on a motorcycle.”
Hal lights up at this.
“I can take you for a ride, sometime! It’d be fun, I promise,” he assures you, perhaps sensing your skepticism. “In the summer, when it’s warmer.”
“Maybe, yeah,” you say, pretty sure Hal will have forgotten all about that promise by then. “I, um, brought something like workout clothes.”
You awkwardly lift your bulky tote bag up as if in display, and Hal nods approvingly.
“Cool, we can head down in a bit, I’m waiting for a friend. Special delivery,” he says, lifting what was hiding beneath his helmet, showing you a… Tupperware container? Something inside rattles as he shakes it. “Want one?”
He lifts the lid, revealing an assortment of cookies.
You’re a college student. Of course you immediately reach in there to grab one, something chocolate-y.
You sit down next to Hal, who smiles brightly at you as you take a bite. As the flavors hit you, you can’t quite stifle a moan.
The cookie is perfectly crispy on the outside, chewy on the inside, with a hint of saltiness that breaks against the sweet chocolate perfectly. You’ve closed your eyes, you realize, and they fly open to glance at Hal.
Hal is staring at you with a slightly slack jaw, possibly at your mouth, oh man. Why are you always such an awkward doofus?! You quickly shove the rest of the cookie into your mouth and cover it with your hand so you don’t have to talk. Fuck, that’s a good cookie. Hal seems to snap back to reality with a start. He clears his throat, rubbing at the back of his neck.
“Guess you like it, huh? I’m glad!”
He offers you the container again but, no, you’ve been embarrassing enough today. Still, you all but sigh longingly as the treasures are hidden from view once more.
“One likes to have one’s talents appreciated,” Hal continues as though you hadn’t just acted like a total dweeb in front of him, which is very kind of him.
“It was very good,” you manage without stuttering. “Your friend is lucky to have you.”
“Aw, shit, I dunno about that. I’m mooching off of his position here to get free gym access after all, this is the least I could do.” Hal rubs the back of his neck again, a bashful smile on his face.
“My friend Hathorel has never baked anything for me,” you quickly assure, then pause. “Although, that might be for the best.”
“Yeah? What about you, do you bake? Or cook?” Hal asks, looking at you eagerly like he actually cares about the answer.
“I mean, no,” you laugh awkwardly, “and I probably wouldn’t even if I didn’t live in a dorm. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“YouTube,” Hal says with conviction, “but one of those *simple recipes for college students* kind of videos, absolutely no five minute crafts or any of that garbage.”
It’s clearly a topic Hal has some feelings about, so you decide to prod.
“Why not? Five minutes sounds like a convenient amount of time to make a meal.”
Hal snorts derisively.
“Maybe for a sandwich. Naw, real, cooked food? Takes the time it takes. But that doesn’t mean that it has to be a pain in the ass. Give me a day and I’ll make you a playlist, howabout?” He grins at you. “Or give a class, I’m really not picky. If you dare come over to my place, I mean. Totally cool if not.”
<<link "> “I’d like that. Any of that,” you smile at him. ( + <3 )" "hal bonus">>
<<set $hal = $hal + 1>>
<</link>>
[[> “I dunno,” you hedge.->no hal]]<h4>> Wait together in silence:</h4>
A door opens above, and two masculine voices drift down the stairwell, difficult to tell apart with the echo of the architecture. Hal perks up next to you though, so maybe one of them is his friend. Actually, as they get closer you realize that you recognize the voices as well.
Sure enough, coming into view are Rommath and Lor’themar, discussing... something to do with cars, maybe?
“–raining and you shouldn’t drive with– oh. Oh, no,” Rommath says, looking between you and Hal with an almost despondent frown.
Before you can think of anything to say, Hal blows a raspberry at him, and Lor’themar quickly stifles a laugh in his hand.
Rommath, on the other hand, seems less than enthused, face instantly turning thunderous.
“Are you fucking //twelve?// Act like an adult, Brightwing!”
You assume that’s Hal’s last name, because Hal sticks his tongue out next. Rommath is mildly terrifying in his fury but Hal seems entirely unafraid, even as you press your body into the bench trying to avoid notice.
“Alright,” Lor'themar cuts in, thank God. “Stop poking each other in public, please? Sorry, Aethas.”
“How do //you// know– oh, //hell// no,” Rommath says, incredulous. “Neither of you are allowed to turn my TA against me.”
“Why do you always assume the worst of me?” Hal growls, straightening from his slouch with real irritation visible on his face. “Unlike //some,// I’m here to help him out!”
“Guys!” Lor’themar barks. “You’re acting like children, and it’s upsetting him.”
Voice gentling, he continues, “Aethas? Wanna sit in my office for a bit?”
“We were gonna go to the gym after giving you these,” Hal protests with a shake of the cookie container, but he still shoots you a concerned look.
“My offer to drive you home stands,” Rommath assures you solemnly.
After looking at the three of them in turn, you…
<<if $lor >= 1>>[[> Look to Lor’themar, imploringly. “Please.”->lor end]]<<else>> > (Not enough Lor’themar points!)<</if>>
<<if $hal >= 1>>[[> Clutch your bag close and say, “Let’s go, Hal?”->hal end]]<<else>> > (Not enough Hal points!)<</if>>
<<if $rom >= 1>>[[> Swallow nervously and tell Rommath, “I’ll take that ride, thank you.”->rom end]]<<else>> > (Not enough Rommath points!)<</if>>
<<if $lor >= 1 && $rom >= 1 && $hal >= 1>>[[> Blurt out, “You don’t have to fight over me. You could just, well.”->foursome]]<<else>> > (Not enough points!)<</if>>
[[> Let out a shaky breath, shake your head at them all, and leave without a word->none]]<h4>> Clutch your bag close and say, “Let’s go, Hal?”</h4>
Once you speak, the tension snaps and breaks into something like calm. Hal sighs and gets to his feet, ignoring Rommath and his crossed arms who ignores him right back as he hands Lor’themar the container of cookies.
“Don’t eat ‘em all at once, now,” he warns, one corner of his mouth tugging up into a half-smile. “Guess you can have one too, if you want.”
This is directed at Rommath, who huffs a laugh.
“We’ll share,” Lor’themar promises.
“Alright, cool,” Hal says, offering you a hand to get up from the bench. Standing up, you wait for him to grab his helmet and his own gym bag and tell the other two men that he’ll see them later, then you follow as Hal descends the stairs to the basement.
“I guess that’s how you got that card, huh?” you ask as Hal opens the door to the gym, taking a right into the changing room.
“Yep, Lor’s great. And Rom’s fine, really, we just… I dunno,” Hal sighs, hanging his jacket on a hook and placing his helmet on the bench below. “We just get on each other’s nerves, sometimes.”
The rest of the changing room is empty of clothes or other paraphernalia. You get the impression that people don’t really use the place, which is confirmed when Hal perks up and says,
“But, hey! I was really surprised to see you here! Lor says nobody really uses this place.” Hal turns away from you when he sees you fidget with your shirt, respecting that you’re a bit shy to undress in front of an audience. “I’ve never once seen anyone here in the months I’ve used it.”
Hal is not shy at all, pulling his own shirt off over his head in a dazzling display of bunching back muscles. You gotta look away before you say something stupid.
“This //is// the physics department,” you say instead with a small laugh, tugging your jeans off and changing them for sweatpants.
“And not the //getting physical// department, gotcha,” Hal shoots back and you flush, pleased to have made him laugh.
You leave your folded clothes in a neat pile and, chancing a glance to confirm Hal has finished changing, head out into the gym proper. As you noted yesterday, there’s really not a large variety of machines, but it looks clean and cared for. You make for the treadmills but are brought up short by a hand landing on your shoulder. You turn your head with and inquisitive noise, and Hal nods toward the far wall, the one that’s lined with cabinets.
“Whoa, wait. Let’s stretch a bit first, alright?” Hal says, and opens cabinet doors until he finds a bunch of rolled up yoga mats.
“It’s especially important if you haven’t worked out in a while, gotta get the muscles warmed up and used to the idea of exertion or you’ll get a cramp, and those suck,” he explains as you roll the one handed to you out onto the floor. “Here, sit, let me help you.”
And that’s how you end up with Hal’s hands stroking over your limbs for what feels like hours, his deep, rumbling voice giving instructions as he gently but firmly bends your body into as much of a stretch it can handle. At least you can blame your red face on the workout your body is experiencing.
Of course, though working your body is releasing endorphins, that’s far from the biggest reason you’re blushing yet again. It’s… exhilarating, to be so close to him, to have all this attention. To hear him praise you, and your body.
“That’s it, that’s good. You’re pretty flexible for someone who doesn’t work out, you know.” It’s a great boost to your self-confidence to hear. “Alright, here, lie on your back for a moment and we, uh, we can…”
You roll over, closing your eyes against the fluorescent lights. But when Hal trails off like that you have to crack first one, then both eyes open to look at him. He’s looking at you, but not your face. No, he’s looking lower. Below your waist… at your half-hard dick. Oh, fuck.
Your breathing speeds up, but he doesn’t say anything, just stares. It’s the same kind of look he gave you when you ate his cookie, you realize. //He licks his lips// and you can’t take it anymore.
“Please,” you gasp, “Hal–”
//“Aethas,”// Hal quickly drops into a crouch next to you, and you reach for him blindly. He catches your hands before you can check if he’s in a similar state, continuing, “Aethas, fuck, can I blow you?”
His eyes are like fire as his gaze catches yours and you have to swallow a burst of saliva as you nod, yes, yes, //please.//
Hal doesn’t wait another second before he’s kneeling between your legs, hands at the drawstring of your pants and all but tearing open the neat little bow you tied it in, shoving them down your slim thighs along with your underwear, letting your cock spring free. He tugs your shoes off roughly and throws them aside, sweatpants and boxers soon following. Rather than move, he just grabs you under the knees and uses his strength to pull you down until your legs are splayed over his thighs, spread wide open before him.
Gone is the sweet, generous man from before – //this// Hal is an animal unleashed, someone who throws his weight around. Literally; he places his big hands on your hips to frame your cock and you squirm to get him to touch you where you most want to be touched, but you quickly realize that you can’t move an inch unless Hal allows it.
“Pretty,” he murmurs absentmindedly, stroking the nest of red pubes that surround your dick and you make a noise halfway between a laugh and a sob as he does nothing more than //stroke,// maddeningly slow, for what feels like ages.
Abruptly, Hal shifts you, lifting your hips and shuffling himself back a bit, and then he swallows your dick whole. You shout, then slap a hand over your mouth as you shout again when Hal sucks your length hard while drawing his head back, teeth scraping along your dick as he goes.
“Fuck, so damn //pretty,”// he growls – //growls!// – at you. “I can’t–”
And then he’s on you again, getting the tip of his tongue under your foreskin, swirling it around your glans, and you have to bite down on your hand or you’ll scream loud enough that everyone in the building will hear. It’s so intense, your glans is so sensitive. His tongue slips free to let him sink down over you again, until his nose is buried in your pubes and your dick is buried in his throat, and he’s swallowing around you, tongue lapping at the skin between your cock and your balls.
You feel… indescribably good. No blowjob has ever felt this good before, what few encounters you’ve had in your life have never been anywhere near this intense, your partners never this skilled. Hal’s hand is rucking up your shirt, just enough to press against your stomach with a pleased hum that vibrates down your cock and into your spine, it feels like. He pulls back to breathe, and then dips below your dick to mouth at your balls.
You groan as he draws one into his mouth, gently sucking the sweaty skin and rolling your testicle around with his tongue, all while tugging at your dripping, spit-slick cock. You’re louder again, now, because the feelings are just too much and both of your hands have somehow ended up clawing at the yoga mat without your permission.
Hal withdraws and you barely maintain enough control over your faculties to not curse him out for it. He casts about, you’ve no idea for what but evidently he finds it as he makes a triumphant noise and leans to reach your sweatpants. No, your boxers?
With them in hand, he leans over you, looking into your eyes and rubbing over your lips with a thumb, almost romantically. His eyes are all pupil.
“Open wide,” Hal commands, voice deeper even than his usual and husky with lust.
You open your mouth obediently, and he stuffs your underwear inside it. It tastes vaguely of sweat and your own pre-cum. You groan and try to hump the air, but it’s difficult in the position you’re in. You’re left to plead with your eyes. Hal grins down at you, and he’s so handsome you can hardly stand it.
He sits back up and puts his wide palms on the backs of your thighs, applying gentle pressure until your knees are almost touching your ears and your weight is mostly resting on your shoulders.
“Think you can hold ‘em there?” he asks and you nod, willing to do anything he asks. “Good, that’s a good boy.”
Fuck //yeah,// you are. Your head drops back on the mat in boneless bliss as Hal kisses your ankle.
He kisses lines along the underside of each of your thighs, to your ass cheeks, and then… warm and wet, that’s Hal’s //tongue// lapping at your asshole.
Your eyes roll into the back of your head. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, so, //so// very different from fingers, with the wide, full strokes of his tongue turning to pointed prodding, trying to squirm deeper inside you at no rhythm you can make heads or tails of. All you can do is lay there, feeling everything, whining as your body slowly but eagerly welcomes Hal inside.
Your cock is throbbing with need and you want so badly to touch it but you have to hold your legs up. Hal’s tongue isn’t quite long enough to hit your prostate, but the man’s a genius and, realizing this, lets up for a moment to suck on his own fingers before diving back in.
You understand why they call it “eating ass” now, because Hal licks and sucks and scrapes his teeth over you like a man starved, fitting one, then two long fingers inside you even as he licks around them.
Your dick was already leaking enough to wet your throat, but when Hal finds your prostate every rough drag against it seems to force out another stream of pre-cum. In the folded over position you’re in, it hits your neck and drips down your clavicle. If you come like this…
You barely notice your muscles aching, having no brainpower to spare for anything but making noises around your gag, squirming, and trying desperately to come without direct stimulation to your cock. Hal moves his mouth, biting down on the underside of your right thigh as he //hammers// against your prostate with two fingers, and you find out, rather abruptly, that you can.
The first spurt of cum stripes across your mouth, you think, feeling the wetness on your upper and lower lip but most of it must have hit your gag. The second hits your chin and beard, with the rest mostly drooling over your chest as Hal changes tactics to force each jet out with his fingers firmly massaging your prostate until you can’t take anymore, wailing and squirming in his grip to try and get away.
Only then does he relent, withdrawing from your ass and leaving you feeling horribly empty even as your muscles twitch from the over-stimulation. He gently eases your legs back down until you’re prone on the yoga mat.
The yoga mat that you will have to burn, you realize, along with your shirt, and maybe also your boxers.
You open your eyes, blinking against the bright lights, before searching out Hal’s gaze. Hal is looking you over with a hunger that makes your cock twitch, even now. And yet, he doesn’t make a move to tend to his own, massive bulge, and you feel your eyes widen as you realize the size of it, straining against the fabric of his sweatpants.
Dragging your eyes back to his face, you find him already looking at you. He grins, saying only,
“Good game.”<h4>Swallow nervously and tell Rommath, “I’ll take that ride, thank you.”</h4>
Once you speak, the tension snaps and breaks into something like calm. Hal sighs and gets to his feet, ignoring Rommath and his crossed arms who ignores him right back as he hands Lor’themar the container of cookies.
“Don’t eat ‘em all at once,” he warns, one corner of his mouth tugging up into a half-smile. “Leave some for Rom.”
Rommath huffs a laugh.
“We’ll share,” Lor’themar promises.
“Another time,” Hal tells you with a friendly smile you manage to return, albeit shakily, before picking up his helmet and heading up the stairs, Lor’themar close on his heels.
“Well?”
You jump, and spin to face Rommath. You hadn’t even noticed him move. He tilts his head towards the grand entrance doors and you meekly follow.
The rain is nasty and leaves you soaked by the time you reach Rommath’s nice, red car. You quickly shuck your hoodie upon getting in, pulling out the towel you brought. Convenient!
His car nicer than you’d expect for a university professor – the interior looks fancy and high tech without being gaudy. It might be a sports car for all you know, which to be honest isn’t much when it comes to vehicles.
He somehow seems to have come out of your short walk drier than you, but you offer him your towel anyway, because to not do so seems rude. He waves you off, pulling his ponytail over his shoulder and turning the heat on. The warm air and warm seat makes you groan with contentment.
Rommath clears his throat, and you startle, looking at him much like a deer in the headlights would, you imagine. He takes his glasses off to wipe away the raindrops and looks at you expectantly. What?
“Your address?”
Oh, right! Duh! You tell him and he taps it into his phone’s GPS. A moment later he’s reversing out of his parking spot and soon you’re on the road. There aren’t a lot of cars out, not that there’s ever really much traffic this side of town. Most student housing is well within walking distance of the campus, after all.
You hope Rommath doesn’t live //too// far from your dorm, so that you aren’t wasting his time //and// gas. A surreptitious glance reveals that his face is carefully blank. You fidget with the sleeves of your hoodie.
“At the next intersection, turn left,” chimes the GPS lady pleasantly.
You come to a stop by the red light. The wipes are working hard to maintain visibility and the squeaking of rubber over glass along with the patter of rain are the only sounds to be heard beside the subtle rumble of the idling car.
“I didn’t know you knew each other,” you venture. Inane, but the silence in the car is getting deafening.
“Lor’themar is technically my co-worker,” Rommath says, then grimaces in a way you can’t quite parse.
You think it’s not your place to interrogate, but now it’s quiet again, and the red light is taking forever to change in spite of there being no traffic, and it’s all so //awkward.//
“I’m sorry,” you blurt. For what? Saying what you did? Taking up Rommath’s time? Existing at all? You don’t even know. “I’m a problem.”
You force yourself to look Rommath in the face, except now the light decides to turn green, and Rommath has to focus on driving.
“Forget it,” you say, voice quiet.
Rommath sighs, and pulls over. The car comes to an idling stop and he pulls the handbrake. The forest is right there, which feels a bit ominous, but looking the other way you see a row of white picket-fence houses, which feels far less horror movie-y.
“Alright,” Rommath says, pushing his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose, eyes closing as you watch him, anxiously. “Okay, let’s do this now.”
His eyes open and he turns in his seat to look right at you.
“Aethas, you have so much potential. You’re intelligent and studious, and you’re //curious// which frankly might be even more important than the other things if you want to go far in our field. But your self-doubt might just sabotage your chances at doing so. I push you hard because I couldn’t bear to see you give up on your dreams due to whatever hangups you have about yourself.”
You open your mouth but no words come out.
“You //have what it takes,// Aethas,” Rommath insists, fist thumping the top of the steering wheel and his voice full of fervent passion. You can’t break the eye contact, it’s electric. You’re holding your breath. “I truly expect to one day have my understanding of the universe forever altered after reading a Sunreaver paper, so don’t you dare hold yourself back.”
You kiss him.
It’s probably… no, it’s //definitely// not what he meant, but hey. Seize the day. No holding back.
Your eyes are squeezed shut in elated terror at what he might do next, so when a hand grabs the back of your neck you nearly jump out of your skin. He kisses back. Oh, God. He kisses you back.
You lean into the kiss and immediately overbalance, and for a split second of stomach-dropping panic you think you’re about to faceplant into his lap, but no, your hand just lands on his thigh and your teeth clack together in a very uncomfortable way. Ow.
You pull back with a yelp, but don’t move your hand. Honestly, you don’t entirely remember how to. His thigh is warm through the fabric of his pants and you want to bite it. You look at Rommath and the man who looks back is the messiest version of him you’ve ever seen. Flushed red, his already generous lips kiss-bruised and spit-slick, eyes wild and glasses a bit askew from when you fell into him, he looks like a wet dream you may or may not have had.
He utters a heartfelt swear before reaching over to unbuckle your seatbelt, and then his own. Thus freed, you make to actually crawl into his lap but you’re stopped by a hand on your chest.
“Have you thought this through?”
His voice is husky and low and you love it, you want //more.//
“Have you?” you challenge, breathless and exhilarated with your insubordination.
Rommath growls, “Brat!” and shakes you by the scruff of your neck. A whimper bursts out of you, and your hand blindly finds its way to his crotch.
He slams his head into his headrest with a muted thunk and his grip on your neck tightens, face set in a grimace of pleasure that seems to almost offend him. You think about how tight his shirt had been around his forearms yesterday and how now that muscle is turned on you, and yeah, you’re turned on, that’s for damned sure.
His dick is hardening rapidly under your exploratory touch. You find the head without looking and rub your thumb over it in rough circles and his nails dig into your skin. Rommath’s eyes slit open, and if he’s surprised to find you looking back at him he doesn’t show it.
“Well? Can you figure out a belt buckle, Aethas?”
You sure can, even if your hands are shaking under his gaze. You fumble a bit but eventually manage. He doesn’t break eye contact with you even once. As you reach his fly, you tear your eyes away from Rommath’s to look at your prize. There’s a wet spot where the head of his dick rests and you want to suck on it very badly. Instead you carefully begin to roll his underwear down, revealing a thick but trimmed thatch of black hair and the root of his cock.
Animal instinct drives you to try to lean forward, to get your mouth on it, but Rommath doesn’t let you, his grip on your neck iron.
“Just your hands,” he commands, and you nod frantically even as you want to cry with desire.
You master yourself somehow, even though it’s very hard, and don’t cry even as the length of him is revealed, thick and meaty and coming to a mushroom tip that’s begging to be kissed.
There’s a mechanical whirring noise and you look up to see that he’s cracked the windows open. Smart, ‘cause they were already beginning to fog up a bit. You feel steamed, too, and pushing back into his grip on your neck rewards you with a small smile.
“Touch me.”
To not obey that direct order is unthinkable. Your eyes flick down, your hand finding its home around the root of Rommath’s cock, and the pleased rumble of his voice goes directly into your spine, drawing goosebumps.
You drag your hand up his cock and it’s a dry slide. You have time to think wistfully about lube before he says, “Wait,” and grabs your wrist with the hand not on your neck, pulling yours up to spit in your palm. You //throb.// Your boxers will be absolutely ruined. Humiliated tears sting your eyes as he puts your hand back on his cock.
“Continue.”
With a whimper, you do. You feel degraded, used, and utterly amazing. The spit is enough to make the slide smoother but you briefly find yourself at a loss for how exactly to proceed; thankfully, Rommath decides to help you out.
“Just a bit tighter. Good. Slow down,” he instructs and you follow, every bit as willing to learn here as you ever are in his classroom.
You can feel the blood pumping through his cock, feel it twitch and see the pre-cum well up and spill over, running down the shaft and over your fingers.
“Please,” you whisper, desperate to taste.
“No. Continue,” Rommath says, and you sob.
You’re digging your nails into your thigh because you’ve very much not gotten permission to touch yourself, or the rest of him for that matter, and the wild desire spreading through you with every denial is making you tremble with need.
“Speed up, and twist your wrist on the upstroke. Mm, yes, right there.”
You rub your thumb over his frenulum and marvel at how composed he is. You’re actually crying from frustration, and he’s giving instructions like you’re typing code rather than giving him a handjob.
“Pay attention to the slit,” he says and you can’t help but gasp,
“Yes, sir.”
You glance up at his face just in time to catch the flicker of his smile before he returns to neutral, staring you down.
“I didn’t tell you to stop.”
You hadn’t realized you //had.// Shamed, you look back down and pick up the pace, daring to swipe your thumb around on the spongy head and drawing a hum. His balls, you note, look tight, and you feel him throb. Could he be close? Will he let you taste his cum at all?
“I’m thinking about how to best avoid making a mess,” he muses and you glance up to confirm that you’re listening, before you’re drawn back to watch his cock – you desperately need to see it happen, to watch him come.
“I think the most efficient way would be for you to catch it in your hand. Be ready.”
Eyes wide and glued to his groin, you nod enthusiastically and cup your other hand around the head of his dick, tilting it carefully to point horizontally.
And just like that, he’s coming. You keep stroking, dragging the cum out of him, feeling him strain with each pulse, and then it’s over and you’re sitting there with a handful of cum and a dick hard enough to hammer nails. You’re breathing hard and whining on each exhale, you realize. He’s softening in your grip and you want to protest, you want more, you want…
“Aethas,” he says, and your neck twinges with how fast you look up. “Clean that up.”
His eyes are still so dark with desire, for //you,// and you moan and lick your palm, maintaining that eye contact like you’ll die without it. Salty and bitter, you swallow it all down, sucking on your fingers noisily. He lets go of your neck and you feel his touch linger like a brand even as you feel momentarily like you’ll start to float without its grounding presence.
He rolls his sleeves up with efficient movements and you had no idea he has tattoos, //holy shit, that’s hot,// and then he’s leaning in to undo your fly and extract your dick from its confines. His grip on your cock breaks some sort of restraint in you, and you grab at his bicep and shoulder, holding on for dear life as he strokes you off with quick, efficient movements.
It’s barely any time at all until you’re gasping,
“Gonna come–!”
Rommath opens the glove box and gets a tissue without pausing his attentions on you and it’s somehow really hot, how efficient he is. Your orgasm hits you like a punch to the gut and you wail, spine turning to jelly and biting at his shoulder through his shirt as he milks you for all you’re worth, catching it in the tissue.
You stay there, extracting your teeth but keeping your eyes closed and face tucked into the crook of his neck, trying to catch your breath as he cleans you off then tucks you back into your underwear. The silence is calming, letting you return to yourself in your own time, and it lingers for what must be several minutes.
“I still can’t believe you went with Khadgar as your thesis advisor instead of me,” Rommath says suddenly, breaking the quiet, and you feel it as much as hear it from where your head leans against his shoulder.
“Would’ve made //this// worse if I hadn’t,” you mumble into his neck and he snorts.
“Oh, //this// is still //plenty// bad, Sunreaver.”
“What happened to calling me Aethas?” you tease, and he harrumphs and nudges you back into your seat.
“Put your damn seatbelt on, //Sunreaver.”//
You do, and he raises the windows, releases the brake, and soon you’re moving again. His brows are furrowed, brooding. Not in a joking mood anymore, it seems.
“This was unprofessional in the extreme. I should fire you.”
“Please don’t do that,” you swallow, and he shakes his head, eyes on the road ahead.
“This will not happen again,” he warns, and you nod, meekly.
It probably won’t, you think wistfully. At least… not while you’re still his employee.
Which won’t be forever.<h4>> “AETHAS!”</h4>
“Hey, wake up! It’s almost eight thirty, we’re both gonna be late!”
You jolt awake at hearing your roommate’s voice so loud and frantic right by you. Shooting up to sitting so fast you think you might’ve pulled something, you blink to try to clear your eyes.
Hathorel is jumping into a pair of jeans while simultaneously trying to pull a t-shirt over his head, and you take the opportunity to bunch your sheets up to cover your physical reaction to the dream. Well, part of your reaction. Your flushed face can’t be hidden the same way, because a glance at your phone on your nightstand confirms that you’ve overslept.
Luckily, Hathorel manages to get himself in order enough to give you a brief panicked look before he ducks into the bathroom you share. This gives you enough time to rise, grimace at your half-hard dick, and wrangle it into some fresh underwear and jeans before he emerges. Once he does, he shoos you into the bathroom to brush your teeth and hair. Once that and other matters have been hastily seen to, you open it only to be greeted by a t-shirt hitting your face.
“Come on, dude, we gotta go!”
“Hathorel,” you complain, pulling it on obediently, “it’s a ten minute walk, we’ll make it.”
“In optimal conditions, maybe. These are not that!”
You don’t feel like arguing. Once you’ve crammed your feet into your converse and shrugged on your ratty Legend of Zelda-hoodie, Hathorel grabs you by the elbow and tugs you down the corridor, stopping only by the kitchen to grab two apples from the fruit bowl there.
“I thought we were in a hurr–”
He stuffs one in your mouth. You glare.
“Breakfast, most important meal of the day, let’s go.”
[[> Exit the dorm building]]<h4>> Exit the dorm building:</h4>
Rolling your eyes, you take a bite of your apple and follow him outside. Granted, Hathorel’s lecture hall is maybe twelve minutes from the dorm, but //you’re// a TA to a professor rumored to, ahem, //disappear// naughty students, so who is really at the most risk here?
You look down at your apple, checking for one of those little stickers they usually have, idly planning to stick it to Hathorel’s back, when you powerwalk right into a wall.
“Shit,” you exclaim, apple slipping from your grasp and onto the ground.
“Oh, excuse me,” says the wall as you stumble backwards from the force of the collision, “Are you alright?”
You look up, and the wall is a man. He’s got long, pale blond hair, so pale it’s almost white, a sharply handsome face with a hawkish nose and one warm, brown eye, with the other covered with an eyepatch, of all things. There’s scar tissue underneath it and you look down before you offend him by staring. You belatedly realize that you’ve taken hold of his (very firm) bicep as you tried not to fall on your ass, and he has gripped your elbow in return. He’s wearing a nice-looking suit, possibly tailored to fit his physique, which is formidable.
Your internal panicked monologue switches tracks from, //“oh no, furious businessman will make my life one of suffering”// to, //“oh no, furious// gangster //will make my life very// short”.
Instead of ending you where you stand, the man moves his hand from your elbow to your shoulder, steadying you. His hand is broad, and quite warm, even through two layers of fabric. Against your will, you blush.
“F-fine!” you stutter, glancing over to Hathorel who has an arm half-outstretched towards you, looking torn between attempting to rescue you and running to save himself (and make his class in time). You can’t blame him.
“I suppose I wasn’t looking where I was going. Was that your breakfast? I’m sorry, can I buy you some kind of replacement?” says the man, gesturing with the to-go coffee cup he’s holding in his other hand toward the coffee shop he had just exited. His face isn’t angry at all, it turns out, once you brave looking at it again. Instead he’s sporting a warm smile, eye crinkling at the edges.
Fuck, but it’s a nice smile. Hathorel is looking at you like you’re insane but you still almost say yes before the man is jostled as what is clearly another student runs out of the shop in a hurry. Oh, shit, the time!
“No, sorry, I mean, thank you. We gotta go. Thanks, though! And sorry!”
With that brilliant example of eloquence, you shrug off the man’s hand and step around him, breaking into a light jog.
“Another time, perhaps,” the man calls after you with laughter in his voice, and you wave a hand awkwardly over your shoulder without turning.
Jogging alongside you, Hathorel looks like he’s about to explode in confused laughter and again, you can hardly blame him. What the //fuck// just happened?
[[> Barely make it]]<h4>> Barely make it:</h4>
You run the rest of the way, and just barely manage to squeak into the auditorium before nine. Esara, your fellow TA, gives you //such// a side-eye, but you give her your best puppy eyes and she just shakes her head at you with a smile hidden behind her hand as the doors open again.
Rommath, premier professor in astrophysics and certified genius (and one of your biggest idols), strides into the room as though he owns it, and he might as well with how deathly silent the crowd of students goes when he enters. He’s a tall, severe looking man, and his long, black hair probably reaches his waist when he lets it down from his tight ponytail, which might be never for all you know. Wearing simple glasses, he’s always smartly dressed, never showing an excess of skin, never looking rumpled in the least, and his brows may well be stuck in that frown. He might be the most handsome man you’ve ever seen, honestly.
He begins his lecture without preamble, working on the assumption that all students present want to be there and have the ambition to rise above this introductory course. You sure had and did, and even as you watch these fresh-faced youths as part of your job, you can’t help but be drawn in by Rommath’s presentation.
It’s not quite charisma, no, but the man knows his subject so thoroughly and presents it with such confidence that one can’t help but hang onto every word. Halfway through the class, he takes off his blazer, and his shirt underneath is stupidly tight around his arms.
It really is hot in this building, you think, surreptitiously tugging at your collar. The students are left to their own devices for the latter half, doing a quiz. You and Esara do your rounds, keeping an eye on them, while Rommath keeps an eye on you. Is the AC broken? The heat is getting to you.
At long last, the bell rings and the last couple of despondent students hand you their quizzes. You tap them on a table to straighten them out before heading to the front and adding them to the pile already on Rommath’s desk.
“Verrinde,” Rommath says, and his voice makes you straighten your spine on instinct, even though you’re not the one being addressed. “You were going abroad tomorrow?”
“Yep,” says Esara, leaning her hip casually against the desk, uncowed by Rommath’s frown.
“Very well. Sunreaver, you will come by after lunch tomorrow to help me correct these. I’m busy tonight.”
“Yes, sir,” you say, automatically.
He’s strict but mostly fair, is Rommath. And he rewards good behavior, too – he let you have a keycard to the school faculty gym, which you haven’t used yet, but is still cool to have! Esara has one too, of course, but she definitely doesn’t use hers. You think she does kickboxing? Or something. But at a club, not at a dinky faculty gym in the college basement.
Actually, you think back to how winded you were running here this morning, maybe you should bring some workout gear tomorrow and run on the treadmill. If there is one? You assume there is, but you decide to check this afternoon. Running inside would be preferable. You’d rather not be seen panting like a racehorse from a light jog in broad daylight, thank you.
“Well?” Rommath demands, the hint of a smirk hiding in the corner of his mouth. “You’re both dismissed. Get.”
Right, then.
[[> Is it lunch yet?]]<h4>> Is it lunch yet?</h4>
Once lunch comes around you’re more than ready for it. You scarf down some pasta Alfredo with Hathorel, who complains about his property law course while you make sympathetic pasta noises at appropriate times. You don’t really get each other’s fields at all (even though Hathorel did take a physics course) but you bond over video games and not having time slash being able to date.
Hathorel blames his course load and you agree, while privately also blaming your perpetual awkwardness in matters of romance. And your disheveled appearance, and stupid freckles, and gangly body. So, in an effort to change at least *one* of those things, after you get out of your meeting with your thesis advisor in the afternoon you head back to the ground floor and then down to the basement.
The keycard doesn’t work the first time you try it and your stomach drops. No way are you going to draw attention to your body by asking Rommath for a new card! Frustrated, you pull the card through the reader again, and this time it chimes pleasantly and a light glows green. With a quiet sigh of relief, you cautiously enter.
There’s someone else there, lifting weights, and you can hear his music leaking from his earbuds, something rock’n’roll. But you also see two treadmills! Score! You approach them with the same caution you’d use for a wild animal and note that they’re of different models. What if they work completely differently? What if you accidentally launch yourself across the room on one? That would suck.
You frown at them, considering whether or not the potential humiliation would be worse than running on the sidewalk in front of strangers when there’s a clang behind you. You turn and the guy from before is sitting up and grinning at you. He plucks out his earbuds and waves at you and you wave back, feeling a bit silly but the guy doesn't seem to mind.
His arms are bare and muscular, and he’s pulled his golden mane of hair back with a hairband which looks incongruously cute on him. He’s a beefcake, truthfully, and covered in a sheen of sweat. Yeah, the building might have some general issue with ventilation, ‘cause you feel hotter just looking at him. He stretches his arms above his head, shaking them out, and the muscles bunch in ways that boggle your mind, frankly. He says,
“Hey! Sorry, didn’t notice you enter, hope you didn’t want the weights. I’m Hal, by the way.”
“Aethas,” you say, shooting the weights a suspicious glance.
This Hal guy laughs. You don’t recognize him, but you also don’t really pay attention to any faculty members not part of the physics department, so. You’d best not let on that you have no idea who he is. Besides, one does need a keycard to get in here so it should be fine.
“Are you… a teacher?” Hal asks, looking mildly skeptical at the prospect.
“No, I’m just a TA,” you admit. You know you look younger than the twenty-five years you are, even with your beard.
“Oh, cool! I’m not even that, but my friend got me a card, so.” Before you can properly process or address that, he continues, “You gonna run then? Wouldn’t recommend it, in jeans. Changing room’s over there.”
“No, I just wanted to see if there was a treadmill? I don’t know how most of these machines work, to be honest,” you confess. Something about this guy is really disarming.
“I could show you, if you want!” Hal looks so excited at the prospect, you can’t help but smile back at him.
“Well, like you said, I’m not exactly dressed for it…”
“Tomorrow? If you want? I promise I’ll be gentle,” he winks and you can't help it, you blush hard and he laughs, but it’s not mocking. “Sorry, sorry, that was just a joke. But really though, tomorrow? Around this time?”
“Sure,” your mouth says without your permission. Gah! “Thanks. I guess I’ll see you then?”
You back toward the door, and Hal shoots you a sloppy salute.
“You got it! See you tomorrow, Aethas.”
Your name sounds good in his voice. You may not have run on a treadmill, but you do run from the gym, at least metaphorically.
[[> Head home]]<h4>Blurt out, “You don’t have to //fight// over me. You could just, well.”</h4>
Once you speak, the tension snaps and breaks into something like calm. Hal sighs and gets to his feet, ignoring Rommath and his crossed arms who ignores him right back as he hands Lor’themar the container of cookies.
“Don’t eat ‘em all at once,” he warns, one corner of his mouth tugging up into a half-smile. “Guess you can have one too, if you want.”
This is directed at Rommath, who huffs a laugh.
“We’ll share,” Lor’themar promises.
They all turn to look at you and you feel your skin heat.
“Yes,” Rommath agrees, an intense gleam in his eyes. “We will share.”
You. They’re talking about sharing //you.//
“If that’s cool with you, of course,” Hal says, offering you a hand to get up from the bench. Standing up you realize that your knees are weak so you keep clutching his hand, nerves and excitement in equal measure leaving you swaying minutely. You nod, wordless. Is this really happening?
“I’m gonna need verbal confirmation before this goes any further,” Lor’themar says, and you unstick your tongue from the roof of your suddenly dry mouth to hoarsely say,
“Yeah. ‘S cool.”
“Fuck yeah!” Hal exclaims, pumping his free fist in the air, and you can’t help but breathe a startled laugh at his enthusiasm.
Even Rommath cracks a smile, before rounding on Lor’themar, jabbing a finger at his face and growling,
“I’m driving you.”
Lor’themar shrugs amicably, then looks to Hal.
“I’m //not// leaving my bike here, are you kidding me?” He looks aghast at the mere suggestion.
“Your funeral,” Rommath shrugs with a disdainful look in his direction as he marches past you both toward the entrance.
Lor’themar looks at the box of cookies he’s holding, then up at you with an indecisive expression. Then he sighs and tucks it under his arm, offering Hal a rueful smile.
“Let’s go?”
“Rom will complain if we make him wait,” Hal agrees with a snort and lets go of your hand, which you’d kind of forgotten he was still holding. Your face feels so warm. He zips up his jacket and twists his hair up into an untied bun before putting on his helmet over it. The whole picture is a good look.
Once you get outside it becomes clear that the rain is downright nasty and you look over at Hal with concern which he waves off, straddling his bike and turning the ignition. Deciding to trust him to know his own limits, you duck into the back seat of Rommath’s nice car, sighing quietly as your butt hits the seat which is already heating up. Lor’themar sits in the front and, once you're both buckled in, Rommath takes off. You see Hal is following behind, and you meet Rommath’s eyes in the rear-view mirror briefly.
It hits you, in that way things can suddenly hit you when you’re not necessarily prepared for them, that you’re in your professor-slash-boss’ car with the goal and intention of participating in a sexual foursome with him and his two friends (or whatever they are to each other).
“The rain isn’t that bad,” Lor’themar muses aloud, and Rommath spares him a glare.
Lor’themar lifts his hands in amused surrender. You use the towel you brought to dry yourself off a little, tuning out their soft talking under the rumble of the car’s engine. Trying to calm yourself down. It’s not long before Rommath slows down and turns onto a small street lined with neat little two-story houses. He pulls onto the driveway of one of them and Lor’themar gets out to open the garage door, allowing the car to smoothly roll inside.
You get out just as Hal rolls inside to park next to Rommath’s car, and you wince to see the state of him. He looks just a smidge like a dog left outside in the rain, and clearly Rommath agrees if his sneer is anything to go by once he gets out of the driver’s seat. To complete the picture Hal shakes his head vigorously once his helmet is off, grimacing.
“Let’s head inside, huh?” Lor'themar says, sympathetic. “I’ll order takeout. Pizza sound good to everyone?”
You nod your assent and the others make noises of agreement as Rommath unlocks the door connecting the garage to the house with his own key. In a hallway beyond, you take off your hoodie and –following the others’ example – your shoes, putting them next to Hal’s boots by the stairs. Your pants are still a bit wet but it can’t be helped.
They probably won’t be staying on for long, anyway. Oh, God.
After confirming your order and without even bothering to ask the other two what they want, Lor’themar fishes his phone out of his pocket and steps into what looks to be the kitchen as Rommath and Hal amble into the living room with you following on their heels.
“Get in the shower, or you’ll catch a cold,” Rommath scolds with a shove at Hal’s shoulder.
“Aw, you //do// care!” Hal croons and, unfazed by Rommath’s death glare, wraps an arm around his shoulders, wincing when he gets an elbow to the side as thanks.
“Of course I… care. Idiot.”
Hal laughs mischievously at Rommath’s consternation and, with an exaggerated wink in your direction, presumably goes to do just that. Sure enough, you hear what sounds like a shower start deeper in the house, as Lor’themar’s voice rumbles from the kitchen in polite, talking-to-a-restaurant tones.
Rommath slumps onto the three-seater couch facing the television and you carefully perch next to him, not too close but not so far away as to be rude. Rommath seems to simply relax for a moment, eyes closed, and you look over the bookshelf surrounding the TV and sound system. A beat up set of the Lord of the Rings-books catches your eye and you can’t help but smile. You also see books you recognize from your own research for your thesis, maybe they’re Rommath’s? And a collection of what must be vinyls, maybe Hal’s? Oh, actually, there’s a whole, real electric guitar in the corner, that probably belongs to Hal.
They both seem to have a place here. You glance at Rommath and find that he looks about to doze off. Footsteps approach, and you look over your shoulder to see Lor’themar walking into the room, wearing a fond smile. He places a hand on Rommath’s shoulder, making him grumble and swat at him, drawing a laugh from the other man.
“The food should be here in a half-hour or so.”
“Did you get extra garlic bread?” Rommath asks without opening his eyes, and Lor’themar laughs again, eye crinkled with fond amusement.
“Of course, dear.”
“Hmph. Good.”
Lor’themar sinks into a plush-looking armchair with a sigh, and looks at you. You feel a bit like a rabbit that’s been spotted by a predator.
“Now, then. Whatever shall we do with you, I wonder?”
Your face is probably tomato red and you feel your skin breaking into goosebumps all over. You swallow, hard. You must look some kind of way, because Lor’themar smiles wolfishly at you which hardly helps your blush any. Rommath chuckles where he’s peeking at you through his eyelashes and reaches out to smack Lor’themar’s chest with the back of his hand.
“Don’t scare him off.”
“I haven’t, um, done this before,” you confess, and Rommath mutters something that might be //“obviously”// while Lor’themar’s brows furrow a bit.
“As in, had sex at all?”
Oh jeez.
“No, yeah, I’ve done //that,// just not anything… advanced,” you say into the hands you’re covering your blotchy face with.
“He has had sex, just not anything, quote, //advanced.”//
Ah, you must’ve been near inaudible.
“Aethas, hey.”
With tremendous effort you raise your head. They both look solemn and kind, with concern writ plainer on Lor’themar’s face than on Rommath’s but still present there as well.
“Just say the word, and this ends. I’ll drive you to your dorm, no questions asked. That offer is //always// on the table.”
“Thank you, professor,” you manage, “but I seriously wanna do this so bad, I’m just worried I won’t do it right.”
“You gonna call him professor in bed, too?” Hal asks from behind you and you ‘eep!’ as Rommath groans and turns in his seat to glare at him.
“We’re negotiating, can you try to be serious?”
“Of course. Sorry, Aethas. How far’d you get?” Hal asks the room in general as he rounds the couch to sit in the other arm chair.
“To the ‘do you want to do this’ point,” Lor’themar replies wryly.
“Which I do,” you cut in, lest they forget.
“Great,” Hal purrs and reaches out to stroke your bicep.
You imagine your ears might fall off your head if they get any redder. Hal’s hair is still wet and his clothes are loose and comfortable-looking. He looks… soft.
“Focus, Hal.”
He grins lasciviously at you and his hand lingers as he withdraws it with a wink. You shiver.
“So we all want to do this, that’s an excellent starting point. But Aethas is less experienced than us, which means we each have a responsibility to ensure that this is enjoyable for ourselves //and// for him, got it?”
“Yes, sir,” Hal drawls, shooting Lor’themar a sloppy salute.
He ignores him, instead focusing on you.
“We take responsibility for our own pleasure in that we communicate, here. I’m sure this will shock you, but those two,” here he gestures between Rommath and Hal, “can get snippy with each other. I’m not managing their manners while also managing the fucking, so we’ve all agreed to focus on ourselves and on the sex being successful, whenever we do this.”
“Shared goals,” Rommath intones, sounding like he’s quoting something particular if Hal’s snort is anything to go by.
“But seriously, though. All four of us want to have a good time, so let’s ensure that happens, alright? That means we tell each other when we don’t like something, when we want to change something, or slow down, or stop entirely. Sometimes it can be fun to //pretend// to not want something, but when one of us says ‘red’, everyone stops what they’re doing and we check in to see what’s going on.”
“We use traffic light colors,” Hal says, //sotto voce.// “Red means stop, yellow means slow down, green means it’s all good.”
Lor’themar nods and continues,
“What are you hoping for tonight? If anything?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t expect there to be so much talking, I guess. Sorry.” You grimace, swearing privately to apologize less. You’re an adult, damn it.
“Did you expect us to just ravish you, right here and now?” Lor’themar grins at you and the mental image of the three of them crowded around you, touching you, is… it’s a //lot,// frankly, and you instinctively try to cover your groin when you realize that your dick finds the concept //really// interesting.
“I, I guess?” you squeak. As you watch, Rommath and Lor’themar exchange a meaningful glance. You hear the chair creak as Hal shifts in it.
“Maybe,” Hal begins, “we can do some ravishing, then? In the bed, though. Wait ‘til you see it, Aethas, you won’t believe someone actually manufactured the damn thing.”
Lor’themar and Rommath both laugh, Rommath shaking his head in amusement.
“Really, though. Perhaps something more concrete than ‘ravishing’ would be useful?”
“You scientists and your facts…”
You don’t even have to see Hal to know he’s rolling his eyes. Undeterred, Rommath continues,
“We won’t just do whatever we want with no input from you. I’m afraid you’ll have to use your words. Frustrating, I know.”
“He //does// know,” Hal agrees and Rommath flips him off.
Then they’re all looking at you expectantly and you have to rest your head against the back of the couch, close your eyes, and try to come up with a satisfactory answer. What //do// you want? What had made you go along with this in the first place?
You want these three gorgeous people to get you off, duh, but how? You want… to be wanted. To be desirable, even to these guys, who seem to already have each other. For them to want to share you with each other because they each find you attractive and want to give one another a… what? Plaything?
Goosebumps. //Yeah.// Hello, sexual awakening. You had kinda figured that you were done with all that once you hit twenty, but apparently not.
“I want,” you swallow, eyes still closed, “to be shared by you. Used. Because you want me. Um, maybe, I don’t know.”
“We can work with that.” Lor’themar’s voice sounds hoarse, and you let yourself imagine it’s because of you.
Your eyes open and you look at the ceiling for a moment before daring to look anyone in the face. It just so happens to be Rommath, and his gaze feels like a physical touch as he looks you up and down before meeting your eyes again.
“Kiss,” Hal suggests, and you don’t stop to consider whether he’s joking or not, you just do it.
You squeeze your eyes shut once you see Rommath’s eyes widen in surprise, leaning in too hard and fast, causing your teeth to clack together uncomfortably as you nearly pitch forward and into his lap. Thankfully, his hand wraps around the back of your neck, nudging your head to tilt slightly, deepening the kiss as you brace against his shoulder, other hand on a solid thigh.
Rommath’s tongue slides into your mouth to stroke against yours. The fact that it’s //Rommath// is not lost on you – you’re firming up even more with the mantra of //“I’m kissing professor Rommath”// playing on repeat in your head. He’s a good kisser, and every bit as strong as you’ve privately hoped. His hand on your neck feels almost like it’s searing a permanent mark into your skin – and you’d welcome it if it did.
There’s another creak to the side; this time you think it’s Lor’themar shifting in his chair. He’s //watching// this, and so is Hal. You’re burning up. Rommath’s other hand finds your hip, pulling you closer, encouraging you to straddle his lap.
“Fucking pretty,” Hal murmurs, and Lor’themar hums in agreement.
The sudden ringing of the doorbell startles you so badly you rear back, and you would have fallen backwards onto the coffee table if not for Rommath quickly wrapping his arms around your frame.
“Oops,” Hal chortles, and you laugh with only a slight amount of hysteria.
Rommath scowls at him and pulls you in close, letting you hide in his neck for a moment. He smells really nice.
“I’ll get it.” Lor’themar rises and pads off near-soundlessly, a warm hand stroking the top of your head as he passes you.
“I’m sorry, Aethas, it looked funnier than it felt, I’m sure,” Hal soothes. “Rom can tell you all about that one time I slipped and cracked my head on the nightstand mid-fuck. //That// was embarrassing.”
“You were //fine,// you big baby. Aethas?”
“I’m good,” you say. “It just startled me, that’s all.”
The three of you listen to the conversation in the next room over as Lor’themar accepts the food and tips the delivery person.
“I put the boxes in the oven, hopefully they’ll keep alright,” Lor’themar says, announcing his return to the room. He perches on the couch arm between you and Hal, and once you look up at him he continues,
“So, I have a plan. But first, do you have any hard no’s, Aethas?”
Lor’themar’s voice has taken on this almost fatherly tone, and you’re both embarrassed to find that it turns you on while also being mostly resigned to //everything// turning you on, right now.
“I don’t even know what there //is,”// you complain, pouting up at him.
You feel deliciously warmed up by that kiss and pretty done with waiting for something to happen. You get that discussing this is important, but //God,// you want to get naked, and touched, and to not have to think anymore. Your pout doesn’t seem to distract him from his task, alas.
“Fair enough. How about I talk through my idea, to start? I’m not thinking anything complex or shocking; certainly ‘vanilla’ by most standards. My plan as it stands right now is for one of us to fuck you, while–”
“Dibs!” Hal hollers, and Lor’themar shoots him an exasperated look.
“Hm. With //that// thing?” Rommath releases you with one arm to point at Hal’s crotch.
You follow along to look where he’s pointing and land on the bulge in Hal’s sweatpants. You blink. Holy shit, it looks //massive.//
Your mouth waters.
“Hey!” Hal growls, his greedy gaze turning irritated as it moves from you to Rommath.
“Yes, please,” you interrupt their argument before they get carried away. You’re learning. “I like… that. I have, um, toys.”
You do, is the thing. Rarely utilized, what with having a roommate, but sometimes when Hathorel’s out… Well. Your toys tend to skew big.
“Very well,” Lor’themar laughs, “I guess Hal did call dibs, fair is fair. Just so you know, we all get tested every three months on pain of death–”
“Damn right,” Rommath grunts.
“–so we’re all clean, but we’re still going to use protection with you, no offense.”
“Oh, um. Last time I had anything close to sex was…” You try to remember. Does drunkenly frotting, fully clothed, with Hathorel in a broom closet at a party five months ago (never to be spoken of again) count? Probably not, in this context. “Uh, two years ago.”
“Don’t get //too// excited now, Halduron,” Rommath drawls.
Hal, Halduron, sticks his tongue out at him again. Rommath puts a possessive hand on your butt, causing you to squeak in a less-than-manly way and Hal to make a noise of outrage.
“Gentlemen,” Lor’themar expertly interrupts the brewing fight, “shall we retire to the bedchamber? The pizzas aren’t getting any less dry, after all.”
Hal perks up and gets to his feet, offering you a hand up. You take it, blood rushing back to your feet causing you to wobble a bit. Rommath seems similarly affected as he rises, oops.
Lor’themar and Hal mount the stairs and you follow, Rommath close behind. They enter through a door and Hal turns, taking the last few steps inside backwards to watch you expectantly. You start to ask what’s up, but then you see it.
Hal had implied there was something strange about the bed, but that didn’t //nearly// prepare you for the sheer size of it.
“What the hell?”
You could fit two pool tables on the thing, no sweat.
“Right? I’m telling you, Lor definitely got this bad boy from the same place that furnishes the Playboy Mansion!” Hal smacks the mattress, thoroughly entertained by your baffled reaction.
“Three grown men sharing a queen sized bed on the semi-regular got old really fast,” Lor’themar protests as though //that’s// the point of contention here.
“I bet,” you manage, diplomatically.
“Anyway,” Lor’themar continues with a playful glare at Hal, who is taking off his shirt. “As I began to say, one of us–”
“Me!”
“–Hal fucks you while Rom and I sit with you at the head of the bed, and if you like you can touch us? We’d focus on you, firstly.”
You’d love to answer him, you really would, but now Rommath’s put his glasses away and is unbuttoning his shirt, and you can barely parse words as it comes off, revealing that not only is he muscular as hell (which you had long suspected) but his arms are also covered in bright red, geometric tattoos. It’s hard to look at anything else, suddenly.
“Aethas?”
You jump, startled, and tear your eyes away from that to look back at an amused Lor’themar. Rewinding his words, you can nod confidently.
“Yeah, that sounds good.”
“Good,” Hal purrs, coming up behind you and wrapping an arm around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.
He’s definitely naked back there, ‘cause you can //feel// his dick against your ass. Hoo boy. You’re almost a bit scared to look at it. You hope you haven’t bitten off more than you can chew, here. Reading the nerves on your face, perhaps, Rommath snorts,
“Don’t worry. He seems moderately proficient with the thing.”
“Is ‘moderately proficient’ what we call me reducing Lor to a moaning, panting mess last month?” Hal challenges and Rommath goes beet red.
“If I didn’t love you guys, I’d be sick of you both by now,” Lor’themar remarks mildly, faintly pink in the face but more importantly also shirtless now, and this is a lot of shapely pecs for you to be looking at suddenly. Lor’themar is practically //covered// in hair, and you want to touch it so badly that your fingers twitch where they hang at your sides.
“Aw, we’re just playing,” Hal cheerfully replies, his other hand toying with your belt buckle.
“Yes,” Rommath agrees, “I’m hardly picturing any violence at all.
“This, by the way, is why Halduron and I actually //share// Lor’themar only rarely,” he continues, talking directly to you, now. “He’s a damn brat.”
“Uh-huh.” You swallow, somewhat distracted by the damn brat’s hand slipping under your shirt to caress your stomach.
“Wanna lose the shirt?” Hal murmurs into your ear, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut briefly to nod assent, trembling slightly from nerves and anticipation.
You feel acutely aware of your body in this moment, surrounded by these three sculpted beefcakes: you haven’t done anything close to ‘working out’ since P.E. stopped being a mandatory part of your school week. Hal’s hands slide your shirt up, revealing your unimpressive stomach and stripe of red, curling hair for all the world to see.
With a nudge, Hal encourages you to raise your arms above your head, pulling your shirt up and off. It all feels like a dream, honestly. Your eyes slip closed again as the fabric passes them and you keep them closed after, swaying lightly on your feet. They’re all quiet and it’s just a little unnerving.
“Christ. You were certainly right, Rom; your TA //is// pretty.”
“You think I’m pretty?” you blurt, eyes flying open to stare at Rommath.
“I have eyes,” Rommath grumbles, looking a bit embarrassed as he glares at Lor’themar, who just laughs even as Rommath continues, “and you’re evidently too pretty for your own good, having ended up //here,// of all places.”
“Takes one to know one,” Lor’themar teases and Rommath actually //blushes.//
“Could you two //please// focus,” Hal whines and bites at your shoulder.
You gasp at the sting, and Rommath and Lor’themar turn as one to look at you again. Hal’s hands have found their way to your hips, and he licks the bite in apology.
“Dog,” Rommath remarks drily, but he seems disinterested in pursuing another fight, instead getting to work on his belt buckle.
You hold your breath as he unbuckles it and lets his pants drop, underwear slipping down with them. God, he’s gorgeous. The air leaves your lungs on a shaky sigh. His cock is cut and thick and so is the hair around the base of it, neatly trimmed – and speaking of trim, his body is all smooth, sculpted muscle. You want to bite his thighs. He reaches up to undo his ponytail next and the way his chest muscles bunch up makes you unsteady on your feet. Behind you, there’s the telltale twitch of a dick against your backside. Guess you can still find someone attractive even if they annoy you.
Lor’themar’s next, removing his belt from the pants’ belt loops and setting it aside on his dresser. His body, while muscled and incredibly attractive, would perhaps not be called “pretty” by most. You don’t know what he was doing before becoming head of security at a small town community college, but it’s left him with a brutal-looking scar diagonally down his abs, and maybe that same situation also cost him his eye? Most pertinently his uncut cock, once he slides his pants down his legs, is long and veiny and //perfect.//
Your mouth is watering already, thinking about what might come next (hopefully, eventually you).
“Your turn,” Hal rumbles into your ear and your eyes roll back into your head when he cups you firmly through your pants before getting to work on stripping you down to bare skin.
None of //them// seem to have freckles in weird places, like on their dicks. You try not to feel self-conscious about it, focusing instead on the frankly //incredibly// flattering groans of desire they each make as your pants pool around your ankles, leaving you naked before them. Rommath even grabs his dick around the base, like he’s trying to rein himself in. And //you// did that.
“Fucking hell, you guys seeing this? Goddamn,” Hal says and splays his big hands across your own meager chest to squeeze.
Your hands fly up to his wrists as you gasp in surprise, instinctively pushing your chest into the touch. The shy part of you wants to look down and away, but Lor’themar is approaching slowly, gaze running over you in assessment, until he’s close enough you can hear his breathing. You stare up at his one eye, a warm brown.
“Very nice. Remember the traffic lights?” At your frantic nod, he continues, “Good. May I kiss you?”
“Please–!”
He tips your head back with a finger crooked underneath your chin, thumb stroking your beard, and proceeds to kiss the ever-loving shit out of you. His tongue is demanding and thorough, lips parting yours, teeth nipping //just right// until Hal is practically holding you upright for him. Your lips part wetly for the final time and there’s a string of spit between you that holds… then breaks. You feel it land on your chin and beard.
“My turn?” Hal asks and you nod before you can think it through, and Hal grabs your chin a bit less gently and tips your head back to… lick the spit from your skin, //God.//
He follows the trail up to your mouth, diving in without preamble. The angle is a bit awkward but Hal makes it work, plucking at your nipples and making you gasp into the kiss – wet and sloppy and //bitey;// the man clearly took the “dog” comment personally.
Once he lets you go, breathless and even weaker in the knees than before, you find that Lor’themar and Rommath have both gotten on the (enormous) bed and are putting condoms on – on each other, no less. Hal carefully lets you stand on your own and you discover that you can manage walking, albeit shakily, to the bed.
Blushing – and how can you still blush, where is the blood coming from at this point? – you crawl up the bed on your hands and knees as Lor’themar and Rommath make room between them for you to lay down. As you roll onto your back Lor’themar’s hand finds your hair, and Rommath’s finds your dick. You make such an embarrassing noise, a sobbing whine, as he puts a condom on you. He grabs another one – there’s so many condom boxes, oh God – and lobs it toward the end of the bed. Craning your head, you see Hal catch it with a laugh, and then you see him grab his cock.
His workout clothes at the gym yesterday had been pretty revealing, but they certainly hadn’t revealed //this:// your asshole clenches involuntarily when you see the size of him. He’s got a porn star dick, deliciously thick around and proportionately long, too. The thought crosses your mind that you’re about to get the ride of your life. //Three jocks wreck twink ass,// that kinda thing. Your head drops limply back onto the bed. You feel weak with nervous anticipation.
“Gimme some pillows,” Hal says, walking on his knees up the bed until he’s situated between your thighs.
Lor’themar passes down two pillows, and Rommath a towel along with a big pump bottle of lube. They must go through a lot of it…
“Ever fastidious,” Hal mocks lightly, lifting your hips to get the pillows in place underneath.
“You’ll appreciate it when //you// don’t have to sleep on the mess later,” Rommath cuts back.
“Yeah, yeah. ‘Kay, I’m gonna open you up now,” this warning being directed at you. You find it within yourself to shoot him a thumbs-up.
Lor’themar laughs and scratches your scalp like a pet, and you groan and push your head into it, then groan and bump your hips up into Hal’s wet fingers circling your asshole. You feel strangely calm, looking up at Lor’themar and Rommath – who are examining you right back, touching your head and chest.
Rommath swipes a thumb over your nipple and you gasp, as Lor’themar strokes your cheek and Hal… breaches you. Fuck, it’s been so long since anyone else touched you; it’s also been a //while// since you had the privacy to treat yourself to a good fuck on your own.
He’s got nice hands, and one of his fingers is being very nice to your ass, rubbing gently along your insides and spreading the lube around as he stretches you. You’re trying to keep your breathing slow and even but it gets a bit more difficult when Hal finds your prostate, forcing your breath out of you on a moan with one firm press. He looks so proud of himself, too; the urge to laugh threatens to overcome you but you resist, aided by Lor’themar’s hand caressing your ear and down your neck in a way that makes your skin tingle.
Hal’s other hand is stroking your thigh, over your knee and down to your calf, firmly enough that it doesn’t tickle even when he cups your heel for a moment before running his hand back up to your knee, guiding your leg to the side to shuffle closer to you. One finger becomes two, now; he scissors them inside you and you focus on feeling, on relaxing.
“Just a little bit jealous,” Lor’themar says in a low voice.
“Mm, you didn’t have to honor the dibs, but you did anyway,” Rommath grins at him.
You watch in a bit of a daze as they chat above you. Turning your gaze down, you see that Hal doesn’t seem to be paying any attention to them, or really to anything except for what his hand is doing. Three fingers now, and you writhe in place at the stretch – gentle but inexorable. You throw your head back and try to control your breathing, and hands caress you as a warm voice tells you to,
“Relax, Aethas.”
The fingers spread and you focus hard on relaxing, on letting it happen, letting Hal do what he wants to you. Hal helps you out, too:
“Damn, you should see yourself. Should’ve brought my phone up here so I could’ve taken a picture. You’re so stretched, and //wet.// So damn pretty.”
The thought of Hal taking pictures of what you look like down there right now is making you lose your mind, you think. With great effort, you force your eyes back open. There’s a knee to either side of your head, with Rommath kneeling to your left and Lor’themar to your right. Their hair hangs loose like curtains, shielding you from the outside world, and they’re so close to one another that their foreheads almost brush. Lor’themar shifts, getting comfortable, and your eyes follow his movement – landing on his dick.
It’s just… standing at attention right there, huh? As if through a dream, you watch your right hand reach out to touch it. He had //said// you could touch, after all. And you really, //really// want to touch.
“Hng,” Lor’themar says when your hand closes around his shaft.
It’s a bit of an awkward grip, you muse, not so good for stroking, but maybe if you just…
“Fuck!” Lor’themar exclaims, and,
“Goddamn,” Hal says, stretching fingers slowing to a stop when you crane your neck and tilt Lor’themar’s dick down to lick at the head.
“Sorry,” you say belatedly, “is this okay?”
You’re ready to let go at the slightest indication that it is in fact not okay, but Lor’themar quickly shakes his head and loosely grips your wrist, holding your hand in place in a way where you can easily break free if you want to – a suggestion rather than an order.
“It’s //very// okay,” he assures you, voice low and heated, eye focused on your mouth in anticipation.
Rommath gives a strained laugh. Oh, right! You can’t be playing favorites here.
You quickly grab him with your other hand, giving him a few experimental pumps before kissing the tip of his dick, too. Hal presses against your prostate again and you whine, eyes rolling back in your head briefly as he massages it – you feel like you could come from your prostate alone, somehow. There are fingers rubbing your scalp, fingers tugging on your nipple; you need to get fucked, badly.
“Please,” you gasp, looking down at the one who’s gonna do it, supposedly, if he ever decides to get on with it…!
Your chin dropped to your chest, breath labored already, you watch through slitted eyes as Hal glances first at Lor’themar then Rommath in turn, seeking some sort of confirmation before shooting you a toothy grin. He rises to his knees, slinging one of your legs over his shoulder as he grips his cock and rubs it over your hole.
“Yesyesyesyesyes– //aaah…”//
Your pleas turn to one long, drawn out sigh as the head of his cock //pushes// for what feels like an eternity until it pops past your first ring of muscle. He is //big,// no doubt about that… but not bigger than you can handle.
“Mm, you’re so tight, baby, but you’re taking me so well,” Hal croons, using small movements of his hips to nudge his dick deeper inside you bit by bit, stroking the thigh of your raised leg comfortingly.
You appreciate the assurance but can hardly string two words together into a coherent thought: you’ve gone completely limp, a sensation like shocked chills running up and down your spine as he feeds more and more of his huge dick into your ass, the stretch feeling impossible even as he inadvertently presses against your prostate the entire time on his (very possible) way inside. Your vision is blurring, and you realize it’s because your eyes are filled with overwhelmed tears. You blink them away, fumbling for the right word before remembering:
“Green,” you breathe out before anyone can ask.
Someone croons wordless reassurance at you and it’s not Hal – you abruptly remember that there is a dick in each of your hands, and the polite thing would be to do something with them. Craning your neck back, you reach your tongue out to lap at first Rommath’s, then Lor’themar’s dick, alternating between the two and trying to establish some sort of rhythm with your hands.
Hal’s hips press against your ass, //all// of him inside you, and you hiccup a broken sob before getting back to your self-imposed task, timing your strokes with Hal’s pace. It’s as much planning you can muster right now, slow at first but steadily faster. Working toward that inevitable goal, and //fuck,// you wish the condoms weren’t in the way.
Your eyes, blurred by tears though they may be, bounce between each of their faces; they’re watching you with such hunger, like starving men offered a feast, and //you// are the delicious meal. The naked desire makes you feel starved, too – turning your head, you suck the tip of Lor’themar’s dick into your mouth, pushing it deeper and tongue tracing a vein as you fight to mind your teeth while Hal’s thrusts jostle you.
//“Fuck.// Such a good boy, Aethas, so very good for us,” Lor’themar groans, jerking his hips to meet your efforts.
Unfortunately you have to pull back to sob at that, your own voice thick with pleasure as his warm praise suffuses your entire being, and, feeling inexplicably shy, you have to duck away from him. Naturally, this makes you come face to face with Rommath’s cock.
Mindlessly seeking a distraction and brain knowing nothing but //cock,// you take the head of it between your lips to suck, begging with your tongue for it to give you what you need. Daring a glance up, you find that Rommath’s gaze is calculating even now. With his hand in your hair he pulls you farther onto his cock and you obediently go where directed, relishing in getting to serve.
“Heh. Looks like we’ve got a cockslut on our hands, boys,” Hal says, hips sawing in and out of your ass at a steady pace, pressing a sloppy kiss to the side of your knee as he goes.
“He’s got a pretty mouth for it,” Rommath agrees with Hal for once.
“His ass is sucking me in deep, too. The little whore.”
Rommath breaks eye-contact with you to glare sharply at Hal in warning, but you? You just moan.
Yes, you’re a cockslut; yes, you’re a whore. They should use you until there’s nothing left of you but a receptacle for their cum. On you, in you, whatever they want. It’s all theirs.
“–please,” you mumble into the side of Rommath’s dick, having pulled off of it to rub your lips along its length at some point.
Everything is floaty, time isn’t real, and only their hands are keeping you attached to the earth anymore. Rommath moves, and that’s excellent because now you can reach lower; you bury your nose between his shaft and his sack, inhaling deeply before sticking your tongue out to lick his skin. Sweat and musk, he tastes amazing – salty and just a bit sour. His balls are gratifyingly tight when you try sucking one into your mouth.
Rommath cries out above you, and then his voice is muffled. High on lust, you draw back to see what’s happening and find that he and Lor’themar are kissing above you, humping into your loose hands. Gripping them tighter and seeing your opportunity, you don’t hesitate to get a taste of Lor’themar’s balls when they’re hanging right there. Your neck will be sore but you couldn’t care less – even his balls are fuzzy and you love the sensation of it on your tongue.
And all the while, Hal is fucking you with a will of iron, and he’s so big that aiming isn’t even necessary; your prostate is tender and almost aching with the constant attention it’s receiving. You really, truly might come like this, your brain suggests, but it’s a distant thought, and ultimately unimportant.
The only important thing in your life right now is the fact that Lor’themar and Rommath are reluctantly pulling their lips apart to look down at you once more and you wish their spit would land on you. Maybe it does, you can’t quite tell, what with how absolutely drenched in sweat you are.
“Do you want something, baby boy?” Lor’themar asks and the tone of his voice makes you shudder.
“Want cum,” you manage.
“Yeah? You want to come?”
Not what you meant, but //fuck,// you //do.// You need to come, and you need //them// to come, preferably //on// you. Wordlessly, you grip around the roots of their dicks and try to tug them closer with each stroke, hoping they understand.
Just to help them along, you open your mouth wide and stick your tongue out, ready and waiting.
“Fuck, should we–?”
“We use condoms for a reason–”
“Just do it! It’s safe //enough,// and I wanna come, too!” Hal growls at them and Rommath swears in a language you can’t place and rips his condom off, dislodging your hand in the process – you clumsily grab his balls instead.
And then he strokes his cock once, twice, and on the third stroke he starts to come and you close your eyes and hold your breath as it hits your face.
“God, fuck, Aethas, so //good–”// you hear and then there’s more cum on your face, warm and dripping, as Lor’themar joins in.
You’re in //heaven.//
Hal puts your other knee over his shoulder, gets a good grip on your legs, and //fucks.// You’re jostled hard with this fast pace, but you still manage to lick your lips and swallow the cum in your mouth enough to speak.
“In me, in me, please, in me–!” you beg, sightless, and to his credit, Hal does try.
“Gonna fuck you so full of cum you can’t fucking //walk–// ghk!”
His angle is //just// right, dick battering your prostate at a wild pace, and you abruptly find out that you //can// come untouched – with a wail, you shoot rope after rope of cum onto your chest, distantly hearing Hal go, “Fuck!” as he jerks his hips into you in short, sharp motions, coming inside of his condom but also inside of //you.//
It feels like there’s more endorphins than blood flowing through your veins as this point, a fresh rush of it hitting your brain with every jerk of Hal’s hips grinding his cock along your prostate. You imagine his balls working hard to keep his promise, pumping you so very full you’ll spill over every time you move. Covered inside and out with the three of them, their pleasure, body sore and weak but so damn happy.
Hal lets your legs go and you gasp, coming back to reality a bit. He was gripping the tops of your thighs so hard – you hope they’re bruised. He carefully guides your legs down to wrap loosely around his waist as he strokes those big hands firmly up your sides until he can rest his weight on his forearms and kiss you deep, tasting //everything.//
Another swear in that same melodic language you can’t name, then Rommath says,
“We maybe shouldn’t have done that.”
Hal laughs into your kiss, breaking it to reply,
“You kidding me? Did you see that? He came completely untouched! That was //awesome!”//
In a low voice, speaking directly to you underneath his partners’ bickering, Lor’themar says,
“Aethas, I’m gonna clean your face, okay?”
You mutely nod, feeling a little embarrassed to have been so, well, //slutty// just then. The touch of a towel is very gentle over your eyelids as the other two keep talking.
//“Damn,// that was good. Feel like I could run a mile on this high, hoo boy!”
“Please do. Goodbye.”
You snort a laugh at Hal’s noise of outrage, daring to open your eyes again and finding Lor’themar smiling down at you. Rommath is smirking at Hal, who has his hands on his hips and an exaggerated pout on his face.
“Well, I //never.// I //was// gonna compliment your aim there, but you can forget //that,// now. Hey, Aethas,” Hal redirects his attention to you, and you abruptly remember that his dick is still in your ass. “I’m gonna pull out, so try to relax.”
“Don’t lose the condom,” Lor’themar teases, and Hal rolls his eyes at him but grips the root of his softening dick tight, a look of concentration coming over his face.
//“One// damn time, and they never let you forget it…” he grumbles, but his focus pays off and he successfully extracts himself without incident.
“So. The pizza?”
“Hell yeah. I could bring it up here–?”
//“Not a chance.”//
Instead of eating pizza in bed, which you can admit would probably spell disaster for the sheets, all four of you wipe off the worst of the mess before traipsing down the stairs (with you being just a //bit// slower than the others) to stand around the kitchen island, nude as the day your were born, eating slices directly out of the boxes. This part is somehow the weirdest part of your day so far.
“Not dry,” Hal says, pleased.
“Mhm,” Lor’themar agrees.
Rommath switches methodically between bites of pizza and garlic bread with a contemplative look on his face. This is all happening while everyone is //completely naked,// and this is so much more casual nudity than anything you’re used to. Sure, you all just had sex, but you still feel incredibly awkward and like there are rules at play that you’ve not been made aware of! You settle on quietly eating your pizza and trying not to stare at anybody //too// much.
It’s still raining outside, you realize. You can hear the drops hitting the windows even though the blinds are shut, and it feels a bit like it’s shrouding you all from the rest of the world. At least it’s nice and warm in here. Avoiding eye-contact while also being curious about what a man like Lor’themar stocks his home with besides uncommonly large furniture, you look around the room. It does tell you a thing or two about him (and-slash-or his friends-slash-partners): everything’s pretty neat, so the appliances left out must be ones he uses often. There’s a complicated-looking blender, and one of those fancy coffee machines with the milk steamer nozzle… And a built-in ice dispenser in the freezer? Luxurious. Next to it, the microwave says it’s about six-thirty.
Wait, six-thirty? Oh, shit. //Hathorel.//
Urgently cramming your slice into your mouth, you turn on your heel to jog back to the hallway where you left your hoodie to get your phone from the pocket, and //why’d// you leave it there anyway?! There are so many messages from Hathorel, oh man…
“Everything alright?” Hal asks, and you look up to find him filling the doorway, head tilted in concern.
His dick is swinging free in the evening air. You force your eyes back up. Man, he’s so broad shouldered, and your legs have been over those shoulders, and he looks so //genuine.// You blush and duck your head down, realizing that he and the others saw you //jog away. Naked.//
“Roommate thinks I’ve been kidnapped, probably – one sec,” you say while trying not to freak out about the inadvertent show you just gave, skimming the messages that indeed seem to reach that conclusion after the second hour of no contact.
You tap out a placating reply while blindly following Hal’s bare feet back into the kitchen, grabbing another slice when you see one out of your periphery. After a bit of back and forth – Hathorel mostly in caps lock – he seems to accept your excuse that you were hanging out with a suspiciously unnamed friend. For now. You’ll have to come up with a more convincing story before going back to the dorm, something other than //“I was spontaneously invited to an orgy and forgot to let you know that I’d get back late”,// which Hathorel probably wouldn’t even believe anyway.
It’s pretty quiet, you realize. You look up and find yourself being scrutinized. Hal is shoveling pizza into his mouth like this is his last chance to ever do so, Rommath is staring off into space with a tired look, and Lor’themar is studying you for some reason. It hits you again how handsome he is, and how his eye is a beautiful, warm brown that looks almost golden in this intimate setting.
“Do you have to leave, then?” he asks, polite, and you’re not sure if that’s a hint or not.
“Aw, no, come on! Don’t go yet,” Hal takes the time to look up from his pizza to beg.
“I’ll drive you if you need to go, but you’re welcome to stay if you don’t have anywhere more pressing to be.”
Rommath makes to adjust his glasses, then realizes that he isn’t wearing them, aborting the gesture and scratching the side of his nose awkwardly. Now //he’s// avoiding eye-contact with //you,// cheeks faintly pink.
“You’re welcome to stay the night, if you like. We’d love to have you.”
Lor’themar, with his sharp smile softened to be warm and gentle, inviting you into his home. Rommath, pretending not to care either way, but he’s looking carefully at you through the corner of his eye. Halduron, giving you sweet puppy eyes, with a far more carnal interest simmering just beneath the surface.
Hell, why not? In for a penny, in for a pounding, or however the saying goes.
“Sure. ‘S cool.”<h4>> Look to Lor’themar, imploringly. “Please.”</h4>
Once you speak, the tension snaps and breaks into something like calm. Hal sighs and gets to his feet, ignoring Rommath and his crossed arms who ignores him right back as he hands Lor’themar the container of cookies.
“Don’t eat ‘em all at once, now,” he warns, one corner of his mouth tugging up into a half-smile. “Leave some for Rom.”
Rommath huffs a laugh.
“We’ll share,” Lor'themar promises.
“Another time,” Hal tells you next with a friendly smile you manage to return, albeit shakily, before picking up his helmet and heading outside.
Rommath follows you and Lor’themar up the stairs in complete silence, and you grow tenser every second. He shoots you an inscrutable look before ducking back inside his office. Lor’themar leads you further still to the very end of this floor, and holds a door open for you.
It’s similar in layout to the other offices you’ve seen here, except the desk is bigger to accommodate two computer screens, both of them showing a generic screensaver, and there’s only one guest chair facing Lor’themar’s on the other side of the desk as opposed to the typical two. Lor’themar puts the thing of cookies down on the desk and rounds it in a way that makes it obvious that he is comfortable in here, he’s probably rounded his desk the same, practiced way a thousand times before. This is his domain.
That only reinforces your sense of being out of place. You’re supposed to sit down, you know that’s what’s supposed to come next as Lor’themar sinks into his own chair behind his desk and looks at you expectantly. For some reason, you can’t bring yourself to do it. You’re just too full of nervous energy, your mind roiling, going over what just happened over and over again, picking your actions apart and finding only mistakes, and you rather feel like you’re going to burst at the seams.
“Please, have a seat,” Lor'themar offers, still so very gentle, but you shake your head no before he’s even finished speaking.
“I’m sorry!” you exclaim, wringing your hands and shifting your weight from foot to foot. “I feel like I messed up, you’re all friends and I’m causing problems for everyone by, I don’t know, just.”
“Aethas. Come here,” Lor’themar commands, now, quiet but assertive.
You can’t bear to fight it, not when it’s so much easier to just do as you’re told. You step around the desk to where he’s turned his chair to face you once you come to a stop. He studies you for a while.
“What do you need?” he asks, and… God, you have no idea.
“I don’t know,” you admit, voice trembling in spite of your efforts to steady it, to steady yourself.
Lor’themar makes a sympathetic noise, saying,
“If you don’t mind me saying so, I think you might be panicking. It can’t hurt you, and it will pass. Seriously, though – sit wherever feels good: chair, floor, desk, doesn’t matter any to me. Whatever you need, Aethas.”
God, but you believe him, is the thing. And you crumple to sit on the floor, leaned against his desk drawers. It’s an old-fashioned, mahogany-looking piece, and it’s more than sturdy enough to bear your weight as you press against it.
At least you’re not crying or anything like that. Still, you get the feeling – as you stare at Lor’themar’s knee – that he wouldn’t judge you even if you were. A moment passes, and you feel more centered. A little embarrassed, kind of tired, but calm.
“May I touch you?” Lor’themar asks and your pulse picks up again.
You nod and his hand finds home on your head, stroking rhythmically, and it soothes parts of you that you didn’t even know needed soothing. With a deep sigh, you let your head tilt, forehead bumping against that knee. The hand petting you – for what else can you call it – stutters, but picks its pace back up. You peer up at Lor’themar, trusting him wholeheartedly, and he’s looking a bit flustered.
As your eyes meet, his pupil seems to widen, and he wets his lips. It occurs to you that you’re kneeling before the guy, in his office, hidden from view of anyone coming in the door, with his hand in your hair and his thigh tense under your cheek. Feeling floaty, almost dream-like, you rub your cheek against his leg.
“Aethas,” he chokes out, hand gripping your hair and halting the motion, and with the slight pain comes focus, along with reality.
You’re getting hard. Not fully, not yet, but steadily approaching a critical state. Your gaze flicks down, and… there is straining happening beneath Lor’themar’s nice slacks, too. You breathe out in a shaky sigh and Lor’themar’s thigh twitches.
“Fuck,” Lor’themar hisses, before saying, louder, “Aethas, this is… do you want this?”
He looks bewildered but wild, flushed with desire for you, and he //had// asked what you need. And offered to show you his office. Well, you’ve seen the office, now. You //want// to see something else.
“Yeah,” you breathe, and Lor’themar groans and bends at the waist, tugging you up to rise onto your knees with one hand in your hair, the other on your shoulder – pressing his lips to yours in a dizzying, filthy kiss.
His tongue finds its way into your mouth immediately, plundering it, overwhelming you with passion and making your toes curl. He releases you and you gulp down air like you’re coming up from underwater, slumping down to get your clumsy fingers fumbling with his belt before you consciously decide to.
Lor’themar gently pushes your hands away before you can figure out the puzzle that is his belt buckle and instead undoes his own fly, tugging his cock out through the slit of his underwear. The moment you lay eyes on it you //whine,// surging forward against his grip on your hair like a starved animal, straining to get it in your mouth. Again, his hold stops you, and you groan in frustration.
“Shh, darling. Let daddy take care of things.”
It’s a good thing you’re already on the floor, because had you been standing your knees might have given out, at that. He nudges your shoulder with his knee and you move as directed, going more fully beneath the desk as Lor’themar scoots his chair in closer, positioning the two of you in such a way that you’d probably be entirely hidden from view of the door, unless someone were to come around the desk to Lor’themar’s side of it.
The whole time you’re staring down his cock as it bobs with his movements. It’s uncut, veiny, and the hair around its base is plentiful but neat. You wish you could see his balls. You wish his cock was down your throat already.
“Daddy, please,” you whisper, and Lor’themar hums above you.
Looking up, you see that he has gained control over his blush. His eye is warm, as is his smile. And his voice is like honey, dripping down your spine to warm you inside out.
“Do you want to suck daddy’s cock, baby boy?”
He rubs a thumb over your lips and you try to suck on it to no avail. He chuckles and nudges your chin affectionately instead, stroking your beard. Realizing he wants an answer, you muster your strength to say.
“Please, let me s-suck your cock… daddy.”
You’ve never really talked dirty before, and it’s nerve wracking. Nor have you ever called someone //daddy// in the bedroom. It’s all new, and exciting, and shockingly hot. The moment you say it, you feel warm and tingly all over. He //is// your daddy, and you want to be his good boy //so bad.// You had no idea you held these desires within you. Luckily, Lor’themar is kind.
“That’s daddy’s good boy.”
Ever so gently, Lor’themar sinks one hand into the hair at the back of your head, the other sliding down to cup your chin. Together, they bring your mouth to the tip of his dick, and your mouth falls open eagerly. Finally! He guides you down on him slowly, and you luxuriate in feeling his foreskin slide back against your lips, rubbing your tongue against his glans, but just as it’s about to get really good he pulls your head back.
You sob once in horny frustration and he murmurs reassurances, shushing you. You glare up at him, and he smiles down at you, before guiding you back onto his cock. You can’t hurry it up, his grip on you is gentle but it is iron: you go where he leads you, and nowhere else. The head of his cock rubs against the roof of your mouth this time and he makes a small noise of pleasure as you suck on the inch inside you as he pulls your head back once more.
Again and again this is repeated, letting you take more of him each time, until you feel him threatening the back of your throat. This time, he doesn’t stop. He keeps going now, deeper than before, relentlessly pulling you down until your nose is buried in those pale pubes the way his dick is buried down your esophagus.
You swallow around him, fighting your instinctual fear of choking and thanking your lucky stars you can manage your gag reflex because you don’t want this to stop, ever, if you can help it. The grip around your chin loosens and his thumb rubs around your lips again, feeling where you’re stretched around him, and you blink away your involuntary tears to meet his eye.
He’s intense, focused in on you even as his other hand strokes your hair again, like you’re a beloved pet. Your hands are grabbing the backs of his calves, you realize, black-lacquered nails digging into the fabric of his pants and you’re so hard you could die, but he hasn’t told you to touch yourself so you won’t. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and he shifts, offering you his ankle to grind your hips against and your eyes roll back in your head with pleasure when you do.
Instinct takes over and you pull your head back to breathe and cough. He lets you, and your ears burn with humiliation when you realize he doesn’t need to direct you anymore: the moment you’ve got your breath back you go right back to choking yourself on his dick again.
“Daddy’s pretty baby likes to choke on it, hm? I could tell from the start that you’d be a slut for it,” he rumbles and you pull back just enough to draw a breath and moan in agreement before you dive back in.
It’s a slow thing, not a blowjob so much as it’s just you keeping his cock warm and wet in you, and the thought of serving as little more than a fucktoy is incredible. Your hips move against his ankle and shoe and you think that if you come and make a mess he might let you clean it up with your tongue.
//Knock, knock.//
Your half lidded eyes fly wide open and you look up at Lor’themar in a panic. He just smirks at you and puts his index finger in front of his mouth in a bid to make you quiet, then places his forearms on his desk, leaning on them and calling out, “Yes?”
The door opens. You’ve never been so motionless in your life. Lor’themar shifts in his seat like he’s just getting comfortable and his dick moves inside of you.
“Theron, hey,” says Astalor, another physics teacher who you spoke to just last week in the staff room. “Here are the keys back, thanks again for letting me borrow them.”
There’s the sound of something being placed on the desk right above your head, and you squeeze your eyes shut. Your eyes are watering, your jaw aches, and your lips tingle.
“No problem,” Lor’themar replies smoothly. “But let’s not make a habit of it, alright?”
“Aye-aye,” Astalor laughs. You’re gonna pass out. “See you Monday.”
“Have good weekend,” Lor’themar says mildly as the door closes and he presses the toe of his shoe against your balls.
You come like that, humping Lor’themar’s leg with tears streaming down your face, humiliated but overjoyed at your own debauchery.
In a daze, you let Lor’themar pull out to come on your face. After, he offers you a hand up, a wet wipe, and another cookie. You curl up in his lap and munch contentedly, listening to the rain and floating on clouds while he strokes your hair.<h4>> Be daring and smile back at him ( + <3 )</h4>
Lor’themar’s smile widens, and you blush and look away. He’s so nice, but that grin of his… he’s got sharp teeth, and it makes him look appealingly dangerous.
[[> Somehow survive the rest of lunch->lunch]]<h4>> Grin at him and say, “Noted.” ( + <3 )</h4>
Rommath rolls his eyes at you and waves a hand as though you’re a fly he’s shooing away.
“Cheeky,” he grumbles, but you can see him fight back a smile.
[[> Finish the remaining quizzes->ground floor]]<h4>> “I’d like that. Any of that,” you smile at him. ( + <3 )</h4>
“I promise I’ll be on my best behavior, Scout’s honor,” Hal swears, giving you a lazy salute.
You snort inelegantly, and he smiles at you before leaning back as comfortably as is possible in these wrought-iron monstrosities that pass for benches here, settling in for the wait.
[[> Wait together in companionable silence->waiting]]<h4>> Let out a shaky breath, shake your head at them all, and leave without a word:</h4>
What a mess!
You clutch your woefully unused tote bag to your chest and duck your head against the steady drizzle. When you get back to your room Hathorel looks up from his textbook and clocks your bad mood immediately. He’s a great friend, and listens to you rant and rave about your weird-ass day like a champ.
You fall asleep with the wish to somehow redo the past day.
[[> Redo the past day->late start]]<h4>> Duck your head and shrug:</h4>
Lor’themar’s smile gentles, and you look away. He doesn’t flirt with you again, instead making polite and friendly small talk, and nothing more. You try not to be too obviously relieved.
[[> Somehow survive the rest of lunch->lunch]]<h4>> “Sorry...”</h4>
Rommath sighs, but you’ve glued your gaze to the papers before you.
“I’m not angry,” he says quietly. You nod without looking up, but you’ve been reminded why you’re here. It’s not to make friends.
[[> Finish the remaining quizzes->ground floor]]<h4>> “I dunno,” you hedge.</h4>
“That’s cool. Sorry, I didn’t mean to push,” Hal reassures you, drawing back from you slightly.
You relax, realizing he means it, and he smiles at you before leaning back as comfortably as is possible in these wrought-iron monstrosities that pass for benches here, settling in for the wait.
[[> Wait together in somewhat awkward silence->waiting]]