Erotic short. A student fucks his professor against the gym wall.
1.6k. Rated E. Cis M/M. Prof/student, older bottom/younger top, age difference, size difference, wall sex, semi-public sex, biting, dirty talk, teasing, threatens of spanking, D/s implications.
“Here, lad, that’s it,” purrs Elgin and God, God, why is it such a turn-on when he uses that voice, sweet and coaxing and warm? Tone’s muscles are still aching, a sheen of sweat on his skin and a delicate quiver underneath from the work-out his arms have had, his legs. It’s not like he’s gonna wimp out of this, like it’s gonna cause him any trouble — the ache adds to the pleasure even, somehow.
It’s not yet six in the morning, and Tone’s been here for fucking ages — Elgin’s only just rocked up in shorts and a t-shirt, his teaching clothes in a drycleaner’s bag. After Tone’s done with him, he’ll go for his leisurely morning swim, and Tone will see him in three hours for Glances and Touches: Homoeroticism in Literature of the 20th Century.
Right now, Elgin is not absently cleaning his glasses as he frowns down at the podium and tries to figure out why his slideshow isn’t playing, and nor is he squinting at a girl asking a question in the sixth row because he’s forgotten his glasses are in his hands and that’s why he can’t see her properly, and he isn’t even twenty minutes into a passionate lecture with a book in his hand, suddenly turning around and realising he was meant to be turning the slides as he talked.
Right now, Elgin is letting out a pleasured sigh as Tone puts himself between his plump thighs and lifts him up against the changing room wall — Elgin’s hands, pretty and plump and dusted with golden hair — are gripping tightly at the bar, keeping himself steady.
“Fuck me,” grunts Tone as he clumsily slides his cock between Elgin’s arse cheeks, up under the seam of his balls — Elgin lets out a soft laugh, his knuckles whitening as he grips at the bar, his knees tipping outward and offering more space for Tone to slide between his legs.
“The other way around, I think, Anthony,” says Elgin, infuriatingly smug and unbothered, and Tone delivers a sharp slap to the plump flesh of his thigh, but Elgin only laughs, his head tipping back against the tile, a slight smile pulling at his features. There’s a dusky pinkness to his cheeks, showing under his sideburns.
He knows he’s scowling as he lines himself up, curving one hand around Elgin’s arsecheek as he grips his cock at the base and prods up until he finds where the other man is open and ready — there’s still a slight resistance as he finally finds slides into place, feels Elgin’s arse squeeze and bear down around the head of his cock as he slots in. He’s trying not to moan too loudly — the changing room is empty like it always is at this time on a Sunday morning, but that doesn’t mean it’ll stay empty, and he’d rather not get them both kicked out.
He loosens his grip on Elgin’s arse, lets him drop down a bit, and the look on his face is fucking incredible — Elgin had been distantly smug a second ago, enjoying the scowl of concentration Tone makes (“Do you know you make that expression when I put blocks of text on the board as well?”), even if he wasn’t actively mocking it out loud, but now his expression is slackening, his lips parting, his head tipping back.
“Good?” asks Tone, can’t fucking stop himself even though he sounds fucking needy, even though it’s stupid of him, asking for approval like that — Elgin’s eyes flutter open, pale green and dreamy, the blond in his eyelashes shining white instead of gold under the anaemic changing room lights.
“Oh, very good,” he murmurs softly. “You’re a very good boy, aren’t you?”
“Fuck,” grunts Tone, and he can’t help the way he drives up into the old man, feels the wet heat of his arse, feels him clench, feels Elgin bearing down on him, the pillowy weight of his thighs and his cheeks against him, the give of his flesh and the dimpled press of his thumbs and fingers under Tone’s grip.
“That’s it,” says Elgin, all honeyed condescension — he’s still gripping tight at the bar, his body tipped back against the wall, his hips tilting into Tone’s thrusts. “There’s a boy, now you’re starting to get it, aren’t you?”
“Fuck, fuck,” Tone lets out the word breathless and desperate and repeated, unable to hold it back as he starts to thrust up and into him, and Elgin’s laugh is a rich chuckle of sound, shiny lips shifting up into the expression. “Fuck, you’re so — God, more, more, Prof, come on — ”
“Prof, is it?” is Elgin’s immediate retort, a little snippier and twice as insufferable now. “You know full well I won’t stand for that.”
“Old man, then,” growls Tone, gripping harder at his thighs, and Elgin’s moan is an incredible thing, fluttery and sweet and warm, and before he can start saying something else that sets Tone’s skin on fire, Tone kisses him.
Elgin moans against his tongue, kisses him back, and when Tone pulls away to nip and bite at the side of his neck, shuddering at the press of Elgin’s heels against his thighs, Elgin sighs luxuriously.
“Good boy,” he purrs, and Tone’s hips stutter — Elgin laughs, but the laughter is half-moan at least, his heels digging into the backs of Tone’s thighs, his knees pressing in tight against his hips. “Oh, you’re so very good, aren’t you, Anthony? You fuck me so well.”
“Hrnugh,” grunts Tone, and Elgin chuckles but then casts off into moaning as Tone picks up his pace, resting one of his palms on the tile to shift his angle, to fuck up and into Elgin as hard as he can. Elgin’s cheeks are redder now, pink blooming across his chest too, and with their chests pressed together Tone can feel the wobble of his chest, his belly, his cock pressed tight between their bodies. “Stop it,” he manages to say.
“Stop what?” is Elgin’s immediate response, just like Tone knew it would be. “Stop calling you a good boy? Stop calling you a sweet, obedient young man who does such a wonderful job of giving me pleasure?”
“I’m thirty-one years old,” Tone grunts.
“Oh, bless your heart,” purrs Elgin. “Feeling insecure all of a sudden, hm? Ought I call you baby?”
Tone does not mean to dignify that with a response, but it’s too late: his hips jump up and he drives into Elgin, punches the breath out of him.
“I’m still old enough,” he points out, “to be your fa — aah, oh, oh, Anthony — !”
He doesn’t stop. He’s got one foot on the stool to get him up higher and he doesn’t thrust up now so much as he drops Elgin down onto his cock: each time he drops his grip and lets the old man sink onto his cock, Elgin’s eyelashes flutter, his lips quivering. He’s starting to tremble now, especially his arms where he’s been holding himself up, and his cock is hard as anything between them, keeps jerking.
“Come on,” says Tone. “Fucking — Come on. I want you to fucking come on my cock.”
“Make me come, then,” retorts Elgin. “That’s a good boy.”
Tone bites down on the side of his neck and the noise that Elgin makes out goes right down to his bones, but he does come, white ropes coming sudden and hot and sticky between them, and Tone is distantly aware of him babbling, of him saying, “Good boy, Anthony, that’s it, just like that, you fucking — Good God, yes, yes — ”
He lets go at some point so that it’s just Tone holding him up, and Tone makes use of the sudden control he has, bounces Elgin on his cock as much as he wants to even as the other man’s breath hitches and he sounds close to sobbing (yes!) and scrabbles desperately at Tone’s back, at his shoulders.
When Tone finally comes, he drops Elgin down all the way, sinks as deep into him as he can, and Elgin whimpers, buries his face against Tone’s neck as if he hasn’t just been acting all fucking condescending, as if he hasn’t been specifically pushing Tone’s buttons all morning. Tone’s balls are drawn up tight, and he can feel Elgin clenching around him as his cock pumps, wishes they were doing this bareback so that he could feel his come wet inside him, even if it’d only come out again in the pool.
“Your knees are turned to jelly,” says Tone as he tries to catch his breath back, ignoring the crying-out of his muscles that he knows is gonna start any minute now, as soon as the glow recedes. “Sure you’re going to be able to swim, old man?”
“Thirty-one years old, young man,” says Elgin with an audible quaver to his voice, “is by no means too old for me to put you over my knee.”
Tone’s skin is abruptly extremely hot under the surface, and his softening cock gives a kind of valiant twitch, so much that he feels fucking dizzy with it. “… Fuck,” he says, and slowly sets Elgin down on the bench.
“See you in class,” says Elgin breathlessly, a grin on his face and one of his handsome hands patting the new bite on his neck as he watches Tone put a towel around his waist so he can go for the shower. “Did you do the reading?”
“I’ve still got time,” says Tone, and Elgin’s laugh follows him across the tile as he runs to get his body under some hot water.
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