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“Shen-laoshi, you have feelings too, why do you continuously deny them?” voice breathy and low, a question beside his ear. Together with only the moonlight to illuminate them and the room, this line was rather heinous and—which Shen Qiao won’t want to admit—seductive.
Roaming fingers, deliberate and strong, press him to the door and brush his nipples over a white shirt. His usual fern sweater vest was discarded by his feet just moments before.
Shen Qiao holds back a moan.
“I’d like to see what’s underneath this junk of a cloth but I don’t have time,” the handsome and mature-looking young man hissed, proceeding to kiss in between his collarbones.
“Time?” just audible amid the hot breaths.
“I have a curfew, Shen-laoshi,” a smirk formed on Shen Qiao’s neck, tongue lapping on the smooth, fair skin. Yan Wushi very much wants to suck, to bite, and to show the whole school Shen Qiao is his alone, but that would herd trouble to his teacher, so he holds back—just barely.
Shen Qiao flinches at the sudden stream of pleasure, but it comes threaded with unpleasantness. ‘Why am I feeling disappointed?’
Allowing no time for Shen Qiao to think, his body once again betrays him by sending adrenaline and heat all over, starting from the touch of foreign hands unbuckling his belt, pulling his pants down briskly just above his knees.
“Yan—!” a protest cut off by a wet mouth over his clothed member, “Ah!” outs his first moan, spurring the other man in his oral undertaking to elicit more of that beautiful sound.
Yan Wushi licks the hardening cock while one hand fondles the sacks and the other a tight grip over a naked, inner thigh. The man above him, as intended, exhales heavily with soft moans escaping his mouth. Time passes this way, two persons partaking in an illicit, lustful moment together.
Shen Qiao feels his knees growing weak and nearly buckle. Yan Wushi notices this.
With deft movements, Yan Wushi carries Shen Qiao: one hand behind his back, another below his knees. His pants sliding off along the way, the student brings him over to the leather three-seater, laying him down gently like a priceless treasure.
Shen Qiao blushes at the tender treatment, only for his expression to deflect sharply into one of shock, “Yan-xuesheng! Don’t you know this is the principal’s office? What are you doing on the sofa?!”
A snicker comes from the other as he hovers over Shen Qiao, leaning down with that smirk not leaving his face,“You mean, what are we doing?”
Shen Qiao gulps. He cannot refute that.
“Also, are you saying what we did by the door is permissible? Shall we continue there then?”
Shen Qiao looks away with a scarlet face. He suddenly feels hot breaths by his right ear, tone laced with enticement and desire, “I brought you here for this very seat, so that we can do unspeakable things comfortably.”
Shen Qiao shuts his eyes and bites his own finger to suppress the emotions that arise from those words, spoken by that voice. He misses the way Yan Wushi smiles, the man finding him adorable.
Yan Wushi places affectionate kisses on Shen Qiao’s eyelids, forehead, cheek. When Shen Qiao feels less embarrassed, he peeks at Yan Wushi, meeting soon after with a searing wet kiss.
The tongue that invades his mouth is hungry and wanting. He greets it slow, but the pace quickly develops to a matching eagerness.
At this point, Shen Qiao can no longer deny the kind of relationship he shares with this student of his, Yan Wushi. His hands coyly rest on the sides of the other’s neck, but Yan Wushi breaks the kiss and merely smiles at him without a word. Shen Qiao is reminded they have to make haste.
Yan Wushi’s hands travel down Shen Qiao’s body, palms open and all ten fingers feeling his soft skin, his curves, through the shirt. He situates himself near Shen Qiao’s bended knees, with almost half of his body on the carpeted floor. This position is rather uncomfortable but it’ll have to do for now. He yanks the offending underwear off, takes in for a moment the view of the fully erect member, and dives down to mouth at it in one go.
Shen Qiao shrieks at the overwhelming shot of pleasure and doesn’t have a chance to get used to it as the mouth ruthlessly takes him over and over again; wet walls and tongue enclosing every surface of himself. “Ah! Yan Wushi, Yan Wushi!” he calls out.
Yan Wushi halts and smirks with the cock still in his mouth—oh what a sinful sight it is. He releases with a dirty sound, letting the sex fall on his cheek. “Shen Qiao, that is the first time you’ve addressed me that way. Say it again.”
If there was a pillow, Shen Qiao would have covered his face with it right this instant. Alas, there was none. So he uses both his arms to hide his face, hands beside his cheeks.
It was too much, too much. Yan Wushi calling his name with that face and voice? He can pass away right now.
Yan Wushi licks at the length and chuckles, vibration passing through his mouth. Shen Qiao bites his bottom lip. “Shen Qiao ah Shen Qiao, why do you cover your face? Let me see how gorgeous you are while I take you in.” There isn’t a second for rejection as he once again devours the other.
Shen Qiao moans and finds his arms grow loose, giving in to that one request.
With his own cock neglected and pained in his pants, Yan Wushi unzips and pulls down the front of his underwear, releasing his oversized hard-on. He thumbs the leaking head and grips firmly with his hand, working himself up and down.
The view does not escape Shen Qiao through his half-lidded eyes. He is astonished at the size—and yearns—but he also feels slightly aggrieved. He wholeheartedly wants to give Yan Wushi as much as he is receiving, but their situation leaves him no room for it.
Both hands almost pulling at the hairs on Yan Wushi’s bobbing head, Shen Qiao lets himself sink into this thick relish. As the office fills with wet sounds, groans, and moans, his thumb rubs lovingly the sweaty temple of Yan Wushi.
How did they arrive here and become what they are now?
How could this younger man make him feel so much, desire so much, more than anything in these thirty years of his life? Gave—and giving—him the first times of so many?
How could Yan Wushi make him so happy?
As Shen Qiao’s mind becomes hazier, he feels his muscles tensing, and something pools in his abdomen.
“Yan Wushi, I’m—” enough of a signal, Yan Wushi increases in speed, both with his mouth and hand, as he too feels his climax approaching. A few more tight and rough sucks and jolts, both him and Shen Qiao come together. The grips on his head tighten as he hears the person he adores shout his name.
Shen Qiao lays tired on the sofa, eyes closed, breathing ragged and slowing down while he barely registers the sounds of tissue being pulled and liquid being sprayed, hands dressing his lower-half after he’s gently cleaned.
He’s carried again in the same manner as before, sweet kisses planted on his face. He nuzzles closer to the warm, toned chest as he relaxes contentedly in those loving arms.
Shen Qiao will assume his responsibilities as a teacher, just not now, not with Yan Wushi.