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Shiro has spent most of his life being praised for his intelligence, intuition, and amazing boxing skills. The boxing is what's paying for the college. That, and the government settlement after an unfortunate accident they had originally tried to pin on him as pilot error.
He'd gotten into the boxing during physical therapy to keep up with his fitness and to help adjust his body to the prosthetic. He's not in the competitive circuit, but he's great for exhibitions and publicity materials.
Either way, his technical skills have won him more than his fair share of jock friends, and when he's not up to hang with them, there's always Matt, his bestie from the Garrison, and his nerdy science TA friends, a circle which includes his own younger sibling, Pidge, who is 19, working on their Masters, and the only one too young to drink.
Which is how they end up as designated driver when they all go out for drinks on Friday night.
The nerd brigade has finals to grade, and Shiro has a paper to write, but none of that is going to stop them from winding down together on a Friday evening. Tomorrow, Shiro will probably sleep in and party down with his boxing friends, and then spend all of Sunday nursing his hangover and feverishly write his paper while sweating coolers onto his laptop keys.
"No one is having shots," Pidge declares as they sit down at their usual corner table, which is fair enough after James "Flyboy" Griffin projectile vommitted on the front window last Friday. "And if any of you orders anything with vodka, you can walk home." Also fair. Shiro's not sure what it is about nerds and vodka, but it makes every single one of them cry.
They all order a beer and decide on two orders of nachos to split, and then the nerds start talking nerd. The truth is, Shiro can keep up with most of it after all the science he learned while working to become a space pilot, but he makes an active decision not to, and starts folding his napkin into a swan, instead.
Pidge, woefully doomed to sobriety, watches him.
“Maybe you should have gone into fine arts.”
It’s not a serious suggestion, but Shiro rolls his eyes anyway. “Thanks, but I deal with enough high-octane weeaboo doing Japanese lit. I don’t need to subject myself to that.”
That, because the brothers Bled come with a cringe radar, gets Thace’s attention. “Shiro said if one more of his dorm residents asks to call him Shirogane-senpai, he’s gonna commit crimes.”
“Are RAs allowed to say things like that?” Matt pipes up.
“No, which is why Thace was supposed to never mention it ever again, but I guess what’s said in the stacks doesn’t actually stay in the stacks, does it, Mr. Ulaz-Marmora-Fucked-Me-On-My-Desk.”
“Hey!”
“Wait… Thace, we share that desk,” Matt bemoans.
“I sanitized it after!”
“Oh my god! Why did you need to? Wait- no! Don’t tell me! I don’t want to know.”
Their drinks arrive, and Shiro turns to accept his, and then everything in the world fades into the background.
Past the waitress, sitting on a bar stool, is the most gorgeous man Shiro has ever seen in his life.
He's sitting sideways, presumably so he can watch the MMA match playing on the TV. The match itself is from last week, probably just being DVRed or something, but the man seems to be concentrating pretty seriously on the screen, which is creating some adorable frowning wrinkles around his eyes and forehead.
His hair is pulled back in a low, lazy ponytail, seemingly to get it out of the way rather than to look good, which begs the question of why he doesn't just cut it, but maybe he's just tired. If this is what the guy looks like tired, Shiro doesn't dare try and imagine how he looks put together.
He's also got a messenger bag which seems to be bursting with papers, so Shiro assumes he must be another TA who had the idea to unwind after Friday classes.
"Earth to Shiro. Come in, Shiro."
Matt claps his hands in front of Shiro's face, and he jumps, zoning back into the conversation. "Huh?"
"I said you better hurry up and get in on these nachos before Pidge eats all the jalapenos."
"I'll be right back, actually," Shiro answers, already getting to his feet, eyes straying back to gorgeous.
"Are you feeling okay? The Shiro I know never turns down nachos…"
But Shiro isn't listening. He's crossing the bar, stepping right into Gorgeous' eye line, and giving him a winning, golden boy smile. “You know, if you wanted, I could probably get us front row seats to one of those.”
Shiro hasn’t exactly given him many other places to look, but still, Gorgeous looks at him and it’s like Shiro run a mile. His face flushes hot, his heart pounds in his chest, and his fingertips begin to buzz with nerves.
“And you are?”
“Takashi Shirogane. Pleased to meet you…” He trails off, raising an eyebrow, but it’s like his name is an ice bath on the other man. He stiffens up, lips turning down into a tight frown.
“I don’t think so,” he says, and not that his tone had been too warm to begin with, but now it’s almost accusatory, as if Shiro should know better than to hit on him.
“Oh. Uh, sure.” He’s not used to rejection, doesn’t really know what to do with it. “I’ll... I’ll leave you to it, then.”
He walks away, feeling confused and off-kilter.
*
By the time the next semester rolls around, Shiro has completely- okay, mostly forgotten all about the incident in the bar. That is, you know, until he walks into Japanese Literature 447: Samurai Love and Homoerotica in the 1600s.
His jaw nearly hits the floor. The professor—the PROFESSOR—is standing at the front of the class, getting his slideshow ready. Oh shit. He hit on a professor in a dive bar at the end of the last semester, not a TA.
Professor Kogane looks up from his laptop and spots Shiro among the slow trickle of students in the lecture hall. Shiro swallows hard as their eyes meet. He feels like he should say something, but what can he say? Sorry I hit on you? No take backsies though?
He breaks the professor’s gaze, heart galloping in his chest. He isn’t sorry. And now he knows why the gorgeous stranger said no: he must have realized Shiro was a student at the university. Which means… that he was totally into Shiro, he’s just got a stupid moral compass getting in the way of the surely awesome sex they’d have if the sheer chemistry from eye contact is anything to go by.
Shiro's never been so determined to get laid in his life.
He sits right in the front row, smiling at Professor Kogane, whose gaze skips nervously and sporadically over his face, his body, then, finally, to the rows behind him.
90 minutes later, the lecture ends, and once most of the class has filed out, Shiro steps up to the desk, leaning against the heavy wood.
"Y'know, you could have just told me you were a professor. I can be discrete."
Professor Kogane's expression is twisted between anger, arousal, and disbelief. "That was NOT the problem. I'd appreciate it if you'd keep it in your pants in my classroom."
Shiro hums, giving him a lazy salute. "Understood."
*
Shiro works extremely hard to fail his first paper.
When he gets it back with SPEAK TO ME AFTER CLASS in irritated, bright red sharpie, it goes straight to his dick. He's pretty sure he's got a thing for temperamental twunks at this point.
He’s happy to wait until after class before approaching the desk.
“You wanted to speak to me, professor?”
Professor Kogane frowns at him, his pretty face tight with irritation that Shiro wants to lick away. He wants to get on his knees and choke on the professor’s dick more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life.
“What the fuck is this?” Professor Kogane demands, slapping the essay Shiro has set on the desk. “You’re one of the best students in your year, and this is the worst piece of shit I’ve ever read.”
So not only did Professor Kogane know he’s a student, he’d heard of him. Wow. He’d never really thought it was his ACADEMICS that would win him such a hot lay, but hey. He’ll take it.
“Yeah, it was pretty awful,” he agrees.
“You-” the professor pauses, taking a deep breath. “Excuse me?”
“Maybe… I can make it up to you somehow,” Shiro offers lecherously, stepping around the desk and into Professor Kogane’s space. Presumably shocked by his boldness, the professor stumbles in retreat until his back hits the whiteboard, cheeks flush, eyes gone wide.
“You did it on purpose,” Professor Kogane says, like he can’t believe it even as the revelation comes to him.
“Yes,” Shiro agrees, crowding up against him, one broad palm sliding over his thigh. “I did.”
He leans in, ghosting their lips together, and when it earns him a shaky gasp rather than a slap across the face, he presses their mouths together more firmly, licking into the professor’s mouth, swallowing the noises his makes as Shiro sucks on his tongue and squeezes his thigh, creeping ever inwards towards his prize.
He slides a hand further inwards with the intent of cupping his surely amazing dick, but the motion brings the professor out of his stupor and he slaps Shiro’s hand away before bodily shoving him.
“Get the fuck off of me! Rewrite your fucking essay! For god’s sake, have some class!”
Shiro stares at him, stunned, hard and confused.
“Yes… yes, sir.”
*
The truth is, Shiro has NO idea what he’s done wrong, and that’s what ultimately leads him to behave himself for the next week.
He rewrites his paper and hands it in, and then spends the lectures going between paying rapt attention and fantasizing about bending the professor over his desk and pounding him until he can’t say such fascinating things anymore.
If the looks Professor Kogane gives him are anything to go by, he is absolutely not being subtle about that latter thing. He manages not to pop a boner in the middle of the lecture, but that’s more to the credit of the tight jockstraps he’s been wearing than self-control.
And maybe he’s been wearing baggy sweatpants to class, and maybe he’s been thinking about Professor Kogane slipping a hand into his sweatpants and jerking him through the jockstrap…
An essay drops on the table in front of him, and Shiro jumps in surprise.
Shit. He totally zoned out. Class is very much over, the lecture hall is empty, and who knows how long he’s been sitting here, staring at the professor and daydreaming about those pretty hands on his dick.
“Hi!” Shiro says, going for casual and sounding instead like a peeping Tom who has been caught peeping, his voice pitching up with nerves.
“Don’t you have another class to get to?”
Shiro looks down at his essay— A-. Keep up the good work. —and then shakes his head.
“No, sir. This is my last class of the day. I have boxing practice with the team later and that’s it.”
Professor Kogane says, “Hm,” and turns away, going back to his desk, putting his computer away as well as his textbooks. “I haven’t seen you at competition.”
“No, sir. My arm, uh, gives me an unfair advantage, being made of metal and all, so I go to practice and assist the coach with demos and they give me a little bit of scholarship money in return.”
“...Right.” Professor Kogane glances, briefly, at the arm. “Well, have a good practice, and don’t you dare risk your GPA for my attention again. Are we clear?”
Shiro preens a little. “Yes, sir.”
Two weeks later, he hands Professor Kogane a middle row ticket for the national boxing competition.
“This is too much,” the professor says immediately. Shiro grins, flashing his own ticket. “I have an extra, so just take it, okay? I have too many friends to hand it out to one of them fairly, and it seems like you’d enjoy it.”
“This… I can’t.”
“Well, I already booked the motel room and there’s no refund on the booking fee, so I’d really appreciate it if you’d just say yes.”
The silence hangs between them, Shiro smiling brightly even as his heart slams away with nerves.
“I… Fine. Yes.”
*
They agree to take Shiro’s car because Professor Kogane does not own a car, just a motorcycle, and besides, Shiro’s is electric, so it’ll save them a ton on gas money.
Seeing the professor dressed down feels almost sinful with his slacks and button down replaced by jeans and a t-shirt, as well as a pair of very fetching sunglasses that Shiro just wants to knock off his face.
It’s a 8 hour drive, so they agree to four hours each, and the professor is not a morning person, so Shiro takes first shift. Besides, he’s picking him up at one of the uni parking lots. Shiro had really been hoping for a home address, but he’ll take what he can get, which at this point is Professor Kogane in his passenger seat, silently sipping drive-thru Starbucks and flipping through his phone.
The professor isn’t really into small talk, so Shiro plugs his own phone in and puts the music on shuffle as he pulls onto the highway. “If the song sucks, you can change it,” he tells Professor Kogane. “Or put your own stuff on. Whatever you prefer.”
“Sure,” he answers, and then he slips off his jacket (LEATHER jacket, yum) and drapes it over the front of his torso with a yawn. He ends up falling asleep in the passenger seat until Shiro pulls into a gas station around 10:30 to get some coffee and snacks, as well as grab a quick 30 minute charge.
He’d had to map out and plan for charging his car, keeping in mind the more backwater parts of their trip, and he’d put his emergency charger in the trunk.
“Huh?” says Professor Kogane, deliciously sleep-mussed as Shiro parks.
“Snack break,” Shiro sing-songs and Keith makes a face at him, then fishes through his jacket pockets and pulls out his wallet. He hands Shiro a wad of fives and ones.
“I need another coffee. And a ham sandwich.”
Shiro leans over, unbuckling his seat belt, and plucks the bills from the older man’s fingers. “Yes, sir,” he purrs. “Anything you need.”
He is rewarded with the sight of the professor’s entire face going red.
Unable to stop himself, he leans down, heart fluttering with nerves. He curls his and tight in the seat as he closes the distance between them, slowly slotting their mouths together. He teases his tongue over the professor’s bottom lip, nips at it lightly before slowly pulling away.
“Be right back,” he mumbles, then slips out of the car, preening as he goes. He picks out a pair of sandwiches, grabs a bag of chips, two coffees and a bottle of water, pays for it all, then gets back in the car.
Professor Kogane has had time to compose himself, the blush gone. He takes his sandwich and eats like a starved man, then guzzles down the coffee with similar gusto.
“It’ll be a bit ‘til my baby’s all charged,” Shiro says, eating his own sandwich still. “Feel free to go back to sleep. You’re VERY cute like that.”
Professor Kogane gives him a withering look that should make him shrink away or feel ashamed or something, but he just laughs, grinning wide. “Sorry. I can’t help myself sometimes. I guess I should have learned by now when to keep my mouth shut, huh?”
The other man sighs, leaning back in his seat. “I guess no one can say you’re dishonest,” he says, instead of telling Shiro that yes, he should learn to shut it. Shiro beams.
“I’m very honest,” he says. “It’s one of my best traits. I think honesty is really important, no matter what.”
“How noble.”
Shiro laughs, pushing his hair out of his face idly. “Well…” he takes a pensive bite of his sandwich. “I was more thinking about how I HONESTLY want to choke on your dick.”
That has Professor Kogane bristling again, red in the face, expression screwed up and grumpy.
“Sorry. Was that too much?”
“I…” the professor chokes, going redder and redder. “There’s nothing to choke on, so quit it.”
Silence falls between them, Professor Kogane pressing himself back against the car door, scowling, red-faced and breathing hard. There’s annoyance and fear in every stitch of him, and reality dawns on Shiro slowly, his mouth falling slack.
“Oh! Oh, shit. Sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed, uh…” The older man groans, covering his face with his hands, and Shiro’s heart slams against his ribcage. He’s screwing this up so hard. “Okay, so I can’t choke on it, but, uh, I’d still, um… I’d still like to taste it.”
Clearly, that was not the answer Professor Kogane was expecting.
“What?”
“I want to suck your dick and eat your pussy,” Shiro insists, course correcting so quickly he’s sure he’s giving them both whiplash. His fantasies have shifted, imagining licking him open instead, or sucking on a strap while looking him in the eyes. He shifts in his seat from the sudden, heady arousal.
“Nope!” the professor blurts out. “We still have almost 6 hours of driving ahead of us. We’re not having this conversation now.”
Shiro bursts out laughing.
“Yes, sir.”
*
They stop for lunch at a small Nowheresville diner, then switch seats. The professor drives the car like he was born in it, and Shiro can’t help but admire it and also think about just how he could crack that calm facade.
He licks his lips, thinking about slipping his hand into the professor’s jeans, fingering open his cunt and torturing his gspot until he has to pull over to the side of the road and begs Shiro to eat him out in the backseat.
Shiro’s mouth waters as he imagines the musky taste of him, the wetness, the hard nub of his cock. Subtly, he drapes his jean jacket across his lap to hide the growing erection, and tries to find something new to think about by opening his phone, but there’s no service this far out and Professor Kogane isn’t too chatty, so it’s just Shiro alone with his thoughts of eating pussy and fucking his teacher open on his cock until he screams.
“Professor-”
“Keith.”
“What?”
“We’re not on campus. You can call me Keith.”
“Okay, Keith. Can we please pull over so I can eat your pussy before my dick explodes?”
The car swerves as Keith whips his head to the side, staring at him. “Excuse me?”
Shiro licks his lips and squeezes his aching dick absently. “Pull over,” he repeats. “Please.”
The professor pulls over to the side of the road and kills the engine. “We’ll be late for check-in,” he tries.
“Oh well,” Shiro replies, crawling into the back seat. “Pants off, please.”
Keith blushes to his ears as he pulls off his pants before joining him in the back seat. Shiro pulls him into his lap and kisses him, one hand in his hair, the other slipping between his legs to tease along the wet spot up to his dick. He strokes it with his thumb, ghosting long strokes before pressing in harder, rubbing in firm circles as Keith gasps into his mouth.
He feels so fucking warm, and Shiro finds himself rubbing at that wet spot, practically trying to finger fuck him through his briefs.
“Fuck,” he mutters and pushes the professor down onto the seat, kissing the sliver of stomach this change in position reveals before pulling his underwear off and tossing them carelessly behind him.
His little tdick is standing up, flushed with blood, pinker than the tan of his hairy pussy lips. Shiro moans and swirls his tongue around it, spreading his pussy lips with his thumb, teasing the inside of his pussy lips.
He bobs a little as he sucks and licks, laving him with attention before opening his mouth to slip his tongue down to his clenching hole.
“Do you like stuff inside?” he manages to ask, glancing up. Professor Kogane nods frantically, and that’s all the permission he needs to push his tongue into his hole and lick the wetness up from the source.
The taste, musky and bitter and unfamiliar, bursts over his tongue, and he decides he could definitely do this for the rest of his life. He’d happily die here and now between Keith’s legs. Well… Maybe after he cums.
His tongue can’t get as deep as he would like to, and it starts to kind of hurt his jaw, so after a bit of tongue fucking him, he slips back up to suck him off and instead presses two fingers inside, curling experimentally.
Keith grunts and bucks a little, covering his face with his hands as he breathes out a soft “Oh, fuck.” Then he says something that actually makes Shiro stop. “I didn’t know it could feel like this…”
“Wait. Have you never gotten good head before?” Shiro asks.
“Or… any,” Keith tries.
“Hold up! You’ve never been eaten out? Your sex life must have sucked.”
“Um…”
Shiro’s eyes go wide as dinner plates.
“Wait. Shit. Are you a virgin?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Is that manner of speaking that you’ve never had sex?”
Professor Kogane nods.
“Oh my god. Have I been pressuring you? Is that why you’ve been so clammed up?”
“What? No. God. I just… I’ve never WANTED, but, uh, you made me WANT to. A lot, and… um. That was confusing.”
“So you’re into me?”
“That’s not the point!” Keith exclaims, and Shiro grins up at him.
“I mean… I feel like if I’m gonna be the first person to lick this sweet little hole…”
“Will you shut up if I say I’m into you?”
“Nope. This stud doesn’t come with an off bu-” Keith grabs him by the hair and shoves Shiro’s face between his legs again. Okay, maybe he does come with an off button, and it’s Keith’s button. Delicious, snack-sized, and SO sensitive.
He pushes his fingers back inside of Keith’s hole, trying to get the same spot as before. It’s obvious when he does because Keith WHINES, high in his throat, breathless and needy, and Shiro’s heart jumps excitedly in his rib cage.
God he wants to plow him into next week.
“That good?” he murmurs, licking slow circles around the older mans dick.
“Mmmhm,” Keith pants in reply, squirming.
“Think I can make you cum like this?”
“I dunno.”
And Shiro takes that as a personal challenge, diving back in, drilling Keith with his fingers as hard as he can as he sucks him off.
He listens to all of his sweet sound, watches him shudder and arch, and just keeps sucking at him until he grabs onto Shiro's hair and rides his face to orgasm, moaning into the back of his own hand, eyes screwed shut as he shivers all over, heels digging into the seat beneath him.
They make it another hour after that before Shiro asks him to pull over again, mouth watering at the memory of the taste. He gets a judging look, but Keith pulls over, and then crawls into the back seat, and then Shiro licks him through another two orgasms, jerking himself off with his free hand before they get back on the road for the last hour and a half stretch.
They’re an hour late for check-in, and Shiro’s pretty sure they smell like sweat and sex musk, but he can’t bring himself to care when he can still taste Keith when he runs his tongue through his mouth.
He expects them to check in, go to their room, then make small talk about dinner and pre-game drinks, so he takes his time ambling down the hall, chatting idly about the carpet and the bad lighting.
He pushes the door to their motel room open with his hip, dropping his bag near the door, then stretches and yawns out “So, do you wanna do dinner or should we just slee-”
Professor Kogane’s mouth is cock achingly familiar by now, their whirlwind sexcapades acquainting Shiro with the slip of his tongue, with the plushness of his lips, the feeling of his stubble.
Keith pushes his chest, nudging him backwards until the backs of his knees hit the bed. He goes down, and Keith follows, climbing into his lap. “I want…” he breathes between kisses, swallows a moan.
“What do you want, baby?” Shiro encourages.
“Wanna fuck. Fuck me. God, please fuck me.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. I’m a virgin, not a teenager. FUCK me.”
“Yes, sir.”
Shiro doesn’t normally fuck virgins, to be honest, but virgins also don’t usually climb into his lap and DEMAND his cock. So, like, who is he to say no? It’s not like it’ll be a hardship to pound this daddy twink into a shitty motel mattress.
Keith pulls his own shirt off first, barely batting an eye despite the admittedly gruesome-looking scars which have been nicely but not fully covered with tattoos of laurels. Then he goes for Shiro’s, and Shiro lets him, equally uncaring of the scars running up his arm to the prosthetic.
“Do you like to fuck with it on or off?” Keith asks as he undoes his pants, getting out of Shiro’s lap for the worst 5 seconds ever to kick them and his underwear off.
“Depends. This time, though, on. For sure.” Shiro very, very much wants to show off, and the prosthetic is gonna help with that.
Keith shrugs and then grabs for Shiro’s pants. “Will you please do something other than sit on your ass?” he grumbles. Shiro laughs, batting his hands away, and undoes his jeans, groaning as his erection practically bursts free, straining in his boxers.
Keith pauses.
“Oh. Oh no,” Shiro says. “I don’t have any lube or condoms or anything. Shit.”
Keith seems to weigh his options, staring at Shiro’s dick the entire time, which is starting to twitch happily from attention.
“We’ll make it work.”
Which is… absurd? Because Keith is a virgin and Shiro’s not exactly got the beginner’s set down there between his legs.
“Uh, that might not be such a good idea.”
“Do you or do you not have spit?”
Jesus. He’s serious.
“I... I guess so?”
“Great. So do I.” Keith licks his lips, and then he crawls onto the bed. He pauses again, staring as Shiro pulls his underwear down. Shiro gets to watch a blush spread across his face. “How do I, uh, do this?”
Shiro grins in spite of himself.
“Don’t worry,” he promises. “I’m sure you’re a fast learner. Why don’t you start by giving it a taste?”
Keith nods, then leans down, wrapping one hand around the base before giving the tip of Shiro’s dick a tentative little kitten lick. He swallows, face thoughtful, and then he does it again with the wide flat of his tongue this time.
The sight is heavenly, and Shiro finds himself enraptured by the journey of Keith’s tongue, both of them falling silent as Keith licks him, kisses him, nothing but the sounds of spit on skin until Shiro starts to throb and ache.
“Try putting it in your mouth. Mind your teeth. A little scraping is okay, but don’t bite down or anything.”
Keith mutters something about hot dogs that Shiro doesn’t catch, then wraps his mouth around the fat head of his dick and sinks down with a soft suck.
The warm, wet suction of him feels incredible, and Shiro has to resist the urge to curl his fingers in his hair and push him down. If it was a one-night stand, he’d be fucking his mouth by now, but instead he puts his arms over his head and clasps his hands onto the opposing forearm, breathing out through his nose as his cheeks flush with red hot blood.
Keith doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just doesn’t understand. Shiro’s hips twitch and Keith opens his eyes to look up at him as he sucks like Shiro’s dick is candy.
“Move your head up and down, too. Not… not like in porn.” God, talking is so fucking hard when he’s this turned on. Keith bobs a little, sliding an inch or so off before sucking his way back down. “Yeah,” Shiro groans, dropping his head back down. “Like that.”
Keith gets into the rhythm of it, sliding up then letting the suction of his own mouth guide him back down and Shiro has to dig his nails into his own skin as he groans his pleasure, being sure to give Keith plenty of positive feedback.
Getting a blowjob from a virgin like this is weirdly hypnotic. It feels good, but not AMAZING, a distracting, repetitive warmth and pleasure. It’s so careful and lazy that Shiro doesn’t notice that Keith has started letting spit drip until he gives a particularly wet suck.
He slides off as Shiro’s eyes open. “Do you think that’ll be enough?” Shiro almost asks enough for what, but then Keith is climbing on top of him and he remembers all at once.
“Woah! Hold on, cowboy!” Shiro croaks. Quickly, he spits on his own fingers, then reaches down, feeling the sweat damp lips of Keith’s cunt. By now, he knows the man doesn’t make much slick of his own thanks to the T, so he runs spit slick fingers over his lips a few times, then spits on his fingers again and pushes two inside of him. Relishing in the way Keith’s pretty lashes flutter and he bites into a plush bottom lip. “God, you want it bad, huh?”
“Mmmm.”
“What was that, sir?”
“Mmmhm.”
Shiro chuckles and flicks his tdick. “Words.”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes. I want it.”
“Good boy.”
Keith opens an eye. “I am not a BOY compared to you.”
Shiro slaps his pussy. “Let me praise you.”
Keith wrinkles his nose, but doesn’t protest aloud again, so Shiro decides to take the victory, however small it may be.
“You can cum inside,” Keith tells him as he settles astride him.
“Uh, what?”
“I’ve had a hysterectomy. We don’t have condoms, so… you can come inside.”
God. Is Professor Kogane seriously telling him to nut inside of him? Is he dead? Is this a dream?
“Okay,” he says, because that’s what you say when your sexy Japanese lit professor tells you to come inside his boy pussy.
He takes hold of those slim hips and positions him, then holds onto his dick by the base, holding it in place. “You should do it. I don’t want to hurt you.”
He’s expecting more sharp-tongued remarks, but Keith hums, then slides down, having to make a few attempts before the tip catches on his hole. He sinks down, and the mess of spit has the tip popping in all at once.
Keith gasps, trembling, hole clenching, fluttering around him. “Oh, fuck…” the older man hisses, gripping his own thighs. “Ah, that hurts.”
“I’m so sorry. Let me-” He takes Keith’s hips, but Keith slaps his hands away.
“GOOD,” he growls out. “Hurts good. Burns.” Then he sinks further down.
He’s so fucking tight that for a moment Shiro is seriously worried he’s gonna cum in 10 seconds like some kind of teenager. He grits his teeth, breathing through his nose. “Shit… God damn, that’s…” Kinda hurts, honestly. He’s starting to understand what Keith means by “good burn” as the other man keeps sliding down, then almost all the way off, then back down, taking a little more.
That in and of itself is a shock. It’s just… going in. Keith is just taking it, sliding it in bit by bit, impatiently grinding against him as more and more slips inside. Shiro doesn’t want to hold his breath, but he’s starting to think Keith might actually be able to take all of it.
A few seconds after having the thought, he feels his cock bump up against what is definitely the back wall of Professor Kogane’s tight little snatch. It’s not all the way in, but it’s a near thing. Just over an inch is still outside of his body, and Shiro is left flayed open by the knowledge that Keith’s taken him all the way to his cervix. He’s still fluttering around him, shivering with each compression of his tight hole.
“That can’t feel good,” he says without thinking, baffled by everything that’s happening right now.
“I’ll decide what feels good for me.”
Shiro opens his mouth to protest, then pauses. Huh. “That’s fair,” is what he settles on when he does speak.
Keith takes a few moments, grinds a little, then starts to rock his hips again. It’s very, very different from having his dick sucked, and Shiro isn’t sure how long he’s going to be able to do this ‘you do it’ thing, despite having been the one to suggest it. He just wants to flip Professor Kogane on his back, spread his legs open and plow him.
The look on the other man’s face isn’t helping. His brows are furrowed in a cute frown, he’s biting his bottom lip, and his eyes keep fluttering shut before he opens them again.
He drops down, thighs trembling, clenching tight as he does so. “This is good, but…”
“But?”
“Might be more fun with you on top.”
Shiro pinches himself, but nothing changes. He doesn’t wake up, Keith doesn’t suddenly change his mind.
Okay then.
Shiro flips them.
He has to slip out to do it without breaking Keith’s pussy, so he takes his time pushing back in, teasing Keith’s hole with the head of his cock, slipping it in and out until Keith bucks under him. He slides home with a moan he muffles in Keith’s neck.
“God,” he breathes. “So fucking tight like this.” He grabs one of Keith’s legs and hitches it up around his waist. “You can take it like this, can’t you? Spread open for like this?”
“Yeah,” Keith agrees, then groans when Shiro’s deep, full body thrust pushes his thigh in towards his chest, stretching the muscles of his thighs.
“So pretty like this, spread open and ready for it,” Shiro mumbles, squeezing Keith’s thigh lightly before planting both hands on the bedspread and pulling out again. He fucks in harder, testing Keith’s body, and he’s rewarded with a tight clench for this trouble. “That still okay?”
Keith nods, so Shiro does it again, then again, picking up the pace, fucking in harder enough to bend Keith a little with each thrust.
It’s impossible to ignore the deliciously tight feel of him, impossible not to moan into his ear and neck as he kisses and fucks and FUCKS. Keith is writhing under him, making these punched out little noises that are like molten lava under his skin.
He’s grabbing the sheets, then Shiro’s hair, then his nails are clawing over his shoulders, down his back, and he’s clinging onto him, whispering his name over and over, tighter and tighter.
Shiro can feel him cum, feel himself pulsing, feel his thighs shaken, his mouth dropped open in a pleasured o.
“You did so good,” Shiro breathes. “Fuck… So good for me.”
“You’re not done,” Keith mutters, still breathing hard, gasping around each word. “Keep going.”
Shiro’s gonna fucking marry this dude.
“Yes, sir,” he answers, and picks back up, plowing into his trembling hole. Keith’s noises are pushing up higher now, overwhelmed by sensation as Shiro moves inside of him, now determined to wring a second orgasm out of him before he cums.
It’s a lofty goal, Shiro can admit that as he’s swallowed up again and again by the slick heat of him. He takes a few breaths, then lets some spit drip between them, fucking it into him, groaning as it slicks the fucking a little more, making the glide easier, letting him go just that much rougher.
Keith doesn’t seem to mind Shiro’s neediness at all, the hard fucks in, the athletic pace he’s set. He’s fucking perfect.
Shiro kisses him, mashing their mouths together as he chases after his own orgasm, overwhelmed by the tightness, by the high, desperate noises, and the hints of wetness at the corners of Keith’s eyes.
The professor’s hands drags over his skin, nails digging into his scalp, and he starts shaking.
Excitedly, Shiro slips a hand between them and starts flicking his juicy cocklet. He tightens impossibly, and then he’s crying out into Shiro’s mouth. His desperate sounds, his trembling body, the adrenaline of VICTORY hurtles Shiro over the edge and he clutches Keith’s hips, burying deep as he cums, little aborted thrusts milking every last bit from him.
They both come down slowly. Once Shiro’s brain can make words again he says “I can’t wait for the post-match sex.”
Keith smacks his thigh.