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"Focus, doll," his lover whispered into his ear. Teeth grazed shyly at his heated earlobe before they teasingly bit into it.
Focus? Focus? How in Archon's name was Kazuha supposed to focus with three fingers knuckle deep in his ass? And the other hand that's constantly squeezing his thighs? Impossible.
Kazuha mewled quietly into the back of his palm as he stared at the chalkboard with half-lidded eyes. Whatever the professor was saying was practically white background noise to him, along with the constant scraping of hard chalk. The words written on the board all seemed to be dancing to the beat of Scaramouche's fingers.
He gripped at his pen till his knuckles turned white. "P-Please... Stop this already- hah-"
His plea just seemed to feed into Scaramouche's amusement, his fingers curling and starting to ruthlessly pound into Kazuha's tight heat. The boy bit into his hand to supress a moan. His whole body was quivering, shaking like a leaf caught amidst a thunderstorm.
"You don't look like you want me to stop," Scaramouche teased. He curved his fingers at an angle where it directly hit a specific soft bundle of nerves, making Kazuha see stars and his teeth to leave harsh red bitemarks on his hand.
White spots danced in his vision as he arched his back, trying to push Scaramouche's fingers deeper into him, if that was even possible.
Doing such filthy things in a lecture hall full of students, it was a miracle Kazuha was good at making himself seem absolutely normal. When really, right under the table he was getting his hole wrecked.
"Kaedehara, what do you suggest we do to solve this?"
Maybe he had overestimated himself.
The professor pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses to rest comfortably at the bridge of his nose as he looked up from his thick textbook to bore his eyes into Kazuha's.
Kazuha stared back at his professor, flustered. "I'm sorry but, could you- hngh- repeat the question?" Kazuha felt his cheeks flare at his tiny slip-up. Scaramouche paid no heed to his situation at hand. His fingers moved swiftly in and out of him without stopping, not even for Kazuha to answer the professor properly.
The professor stifled a sigh at his answer. "Please listen carefully next time." Kazuha nodded promptly.
"As I was asking..."
The bell finally rung after what felt like years. Everyone was dismissed, and the professor seemed to be as eager to leave as every other student. That meant the hall was now completely empty, saved for Kazuha and Scaramouche.
When the door finally clicked shut from the last student exiting, Kazuha slumped against the table to bury his face in his hands. Did the professor realize what was really happening? Was he going to complain to the office?
"It's just the two of us now, doll," Scaramouche's low voice broke him out of his short trance. "Focus on me."
The three fingers that were once stuffing his hole full for nearly an hour finally left him. Kazuha swallowed down a whine. As much as he wanted to scold Scaramouche for humiliating him like that in front of everyone, he couldn't deny that he had been anticipating for the moment when he would finally be in him. He was eager, cock hungry, as Scaramouche would describe it in Scaramouche-fashion.
Right after standing up, Kazuha felt something big align with his hole, and he made a sound similar to a desperate keen, anticipating the feeling of being full of his lover's cock.
Scaramouche slammed himself into Kazuha in one fluid motion, earning himself a muffled cry. Kazuha was covering his mouth with his hand once again, too afraid of making any noises that could be potentially heard by the students loitering just outside.
"You take my cock so well, doll," Scaramouche murmured right next to his ear, hot breath sending tingly sensations down Kazuha's spine. He whimpered. He never knew praises from Scaramouche would make him feel things - things like heat pooling in the pit of his stomach; things like his heart skipping a beat.
Kazuha clenched around Scaramouche as he started thrusting, moving his hips naturally. He didn't even bother to start slow - immediately getting to the good part by picking up an animalistic speed. The sound of sweaty skin slapping against each other filled the air of the lecture hall. Kazuha couldn't help but squeeze his thighs together, the sounds making him even more eager to be filled.
Hands that were once slotted around his waist migrated down to his legs. They pinched at the skin just above his stockings, prompting a yelp from Kazuha.
"Keep them spread," Scaramouche whispered. His voice was husky from lust, tone seeming to have turned an octave lower than usual.
Kazuha stayed pliantly spread under him. He could feel Scaramouche's heated body pressed flush against his back, the warmth radiating off to him as well. His hands went back to hold his waist, grip almost hard enough to leave red marks. Kazuha secretly wished that they would.
"My perfect little doll," Scaramouche said in the midst of a deep thrust. Kazuha arched his back in pleasure, fisting the edge of the table to ground himself. "Always so good for me."
The man gripped on to Kazuha's white locks and pushed them down rather roughly, forcing his cheek to press against the hard wood surface. Kazuha folded his arms to push his face in and cried out. Completely bent under Scaramouche, entirely at his mercy, Kazuha let out the filthiest moan he had ever heard from himself. It was embarrassing, but he was too deep in to care anymore.
He came before he knew it. Scaramouche followed not long after, coming inside Kazuha after a few more hard thrust. They stayed like that for awhile, connected, till they came down from their high, Scaramouche pulling out to lay back in the nearest chair.
Kazuha could feel sticky liquid dribble from his hole, and he felt dirty, good in a way he didn't know how to describe.
He just prayed no outsiders heard them.