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The insistent ringing of his phone refused to stop, but for a man as dedicated to his work as Toji Fushiguro, it was little more than a nuisance. It wasn’t until he felt the large hand of his "boyfriend" pushing him away that he finally stopped sucking. With his jaw stiff and adrenaline still coursing under his skin, he looked up into Ryomen’s pinkish-blue eyes. The man growled, his irritation evident. To calm him, Toji nuzzled his face against the other thigh, barely managing to soothe his anger.
The phone was practically thrown at him, and with a submissive smile, Toji took it and decided to answer the insistent call once and for all. He staggered on the moldy carpet, moving just far enough from the static of the television. With his forearm, he wiped the corner of his mouth, trying to compose himself at least a little. He took a deep breath before answering.
—Hello?
—Mr. Fushiguro…
He recognized the weary tone perfectly. He needed only a couple of words to know what this was about.
—Ah… What did he do this time?
The resignation and discomfort in his sigh said it all. Megumi’s attitude wasn’t just directed at everyone and everything at home; Toji understood the rebellious teenage phase he was going through, letting it slide more times than he’d ever admit. He could list the possible reasons for the call and bet on the most likely one, but this was becoming absurdly ridiculous. He ended up moving away from Ryomen, avoiding causing him any further annoyance.
—That brat…
The aroused flush that had colored his cheeks just seconds ago faded, overwhelmed by frustration. He gripped his device angrily—though it was guiltless—and returned to the living room where his man was waiting. Sukuna was practically fused to the couch, one hand lazily trying in vain to ease his erection, patiently waiting for his "bitch" to return. Toji leaned toward him, forming a hurried but passionate kiss.
—Kuna, I’m sorry, I have to go—
He felt the heavier man’s hand rise to his cheek. Sukuna could get a bit grumpy when interrupted, and these little stunts from Megumi weren’t helping the healing of some bruises.
—Megumi got into trouble again…
Ryomen let out a rough groan, rolling his eyes but with a barely perceptible amused smile.
—You should change that brat’s discipline. Your fucking punishments don’t do shit.
He took a swig of his beer and let it go this time. Toji picked up his pants from the floor and left their home. It wasn’t much, but it was better than the damn pigsty they lived in before meeting the redhead. Sukuna was too kind, letting them live there, visiting at least three times a week to collect, so to speak, the "rent."
He started his car while finishing adjusting his shirt. He’d left as quickly as possible, without time to change out of his stupid top. Wearing his old work uniform, with unwashable sauce stains and some sweat between his breasts, wasn’t the best presentation for the school board. But fuck them. Hooters was a decent establishment, and being scandalized by a little skin was ridiculous.
He got out of his car and walked down the all-too-familiar path. The moment he stepped onto school grounds, he could see his son, annoyed and hunched over, holding his knees under his skirt while forming a small ball of uniformed hatred. In the grayish office, the older man held his hands on the desk with a weary attitude.
—Mr. Fushiguro…
—Don’t tell me. Did he get into a fight with a classmate? Did he disobey his teacher? Did he smoke in the bathrooms?
The slow but steady denials from the old man only made him more anxious. Toji hoped it was at least one of the minor incidents, but everything he listed was met with a shake of the head.
—It’s not about his behavior this time. It’s about his grades.
—His grades? B-but Megumi never had problems with them.
—I was surprised too, but it’s true. Megumi is on the verge of failing Literature.
Even stranger, Toji thought. It was one of the subjects his son excelled in, with perfect scores and always good feedback from his teachers. This felt so unusual…
—Tell me, is there anything I can do to fix this?
—I’d suggest talking to his teacher, Professor Kento. He can give you the details.
He nodded. Leaving the monochrome room, he grabbed the dark-haired boy’s wrist, dragging him through the hallway while listening to his indignant complaints and protests. He led him to the car and slammed the door shut, locking him in like a punished animal.
—Don’t test my patience, brat, and stay here. I’ll go fix your shit.
He finally found, after several minutes, the professor’s cubicle. "Kento Nanami" could be read on the golden plaque on the door. He knocked softly and waited a few seconds until the creak of wood revealed what could only be described as an incredibly attractive, though frustrated, man. The furrowed brow behind those glasses, his resigned expression from exhaustion, and a well-built body fitted into an impeccable shirt made him, without a doubt, one of the handsomest men Toji had met in his not-so-short life.
He licked his lips almost innocently, overlooking the slight embarrassment of standing frozen in the doorway, just staring.
—I wish I could’ve met you under different circumstances, Professor. Sorry, Fushiguro Toji, Megumi’s father.
—Yes, the resemblance is unmistakable. Besides, of course, I was expecting you, Mr. Fushiguro.
The exquisite sound of the synthetic leather chair stretching under the professor’s muscular body sent a small thrill of pleasure through him. Kento’s arms spread across the desk, revealing imposing hands and a watch perfectly positioned on his wrist, lending him a formal air. The well-defined forearms beneath his neatly fitted shirt did not go unnoticed by Toji.
—What’s the matter with my son, Professor?
—Megumi hasn’t only been instigating fights and causing trouble with his classmates—his lack of discipline is becoming increasingly problematic. His attitude couldn’t be worse… Though I must admit, before "that," his grades were on the right track.
—"That"? Are you implying he was doing well until "that" happened?
—His record is spotless in that regard, but—
Nanami cleared his throat, somewhat uncomfortable, and removed both palms from the desk to adjust his tie, seeking air after the awkwardness.
—But?
Toji, at this point, expected anything except what the teacher was about to say.
—He came onto me.
Toji took a few seconds to process the explanation. His little Megumi had tried to seduce his professor? Well, the man was attractive; anyone with half a brain could see that. But still, the surprise was genuine.
—Clearly, I refused.
—Of course, I wouldn’t doubt that, Professor Kento.
—I called you, Mr. Fushiguro, not only to inform you of the delicate situation. I wouldn’t want to tarnish Megumi’s record with something so severe. He’s been on the brink of expulsion, and if I submit a testimony of what happened to the board… I don’t think it’ll be easy for him to transfer to another school.
The color drained from Toji’s face. He couldn’t afford to change Megumi’s school, not now. Silence ruled the small room for a few seconds, but a fierce determination burned in his eyes. He wouldn’t abandon his son in such a delicate situation.
He rose gently from his seat, leaning his body forward. The thin, sweaty shirt clung to his torso, and his well-formed breasts captured the teacher’s attention effortlessly.
The professor’s gaze shifted from Toji’s generous curves to the seductive yet confused face of the family man. Toji’s muscular arms gripped the edge of the desk, his disheveled hair and tight pants leaving little to the imagination, completing the perfect seduction combo.
—Mr. Kento, you have to understand it’s not easy dealing with a teenager like Megumi. His past "antics" were tolerable, but it deeply troubles me that he’s questioning your honor.
Nanami swallowed hard, averting his gaze again from the temptation. Though Toji’s words sounded sincere, the seductive, almost hypnotic tone made it clear he wasn’t the kind of parent he was used to. In more ways than one.
—Yes, that. That’s what worries me most: the kind of rumors that can ruin a person’s reputation and, obviously, safeguarding the integrity and dignity of my students.
He’d stumbled over his words, somewhat dismayed by the man’s boldness.
Toji moved a little closer, stretching his hand toward the teacher’s nice tie. He felt the soft silk between his rough fingers and looked up again, connecting his dark sapphire eyes with Kento’s olive brown. He batted his eyelashes like little fans, flirting outright with the man before him.
His eyes analyzed the exposed curves with determination. Unlike his aforementioned student, Fushiguro senior’s body was voluptuous and defined, with muscles well-shaped by experience and hard work, covered by an exquisite layer of tanned skin. Fushiguro Megumi’s body wasn’t bad: a small waist, long legs, messy dark hair, and those piercing green eyes with porcelain skin. But, for better or worse, a slim, barely developed body didn’t fit Kento’s expectations for a good fuck. And that’s without mentioning his strict moral and academic discipline: he’d never consider accepting such a proposal from one of his students. But the father? That possibility had only crossed his mind as a passing fantasy.
The sexual magnetism between their gazes made their intentions clear.
—And you’re right. A man’s reputation is everything, don’t you think?
Toji lifted his chin as he released the garment. He walked with measured steps toward the teacher. He could decipher all kinds of looks, and the one this man was giving him was nothing but hunger and desire. Beneath that proper facade and discreet gaze, there was a beast he was sure he’d enjoy unleashing.
He fell to his knees, looking with penetrating dark eyes at the professor’s excited iris, so wide and overflowing with anticipation, quite similar to the display in his pants.
The clash of the buckle, the virile scent, and the not-unimpressive display of constrained flesh ate away at his brain. Saving Megumi from expulsion seemed to take a back seat at this point, more focused on admiring the robust pink cock, with a bulbous head adorned by visible pelvic veins and the blond trail that led to his downfall, accompanied by two large, swollen balls.
Nanami could only watch as a spectator Toji’s actions. He’d rationalized the seduction in his words and gaze, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop it. It was his responsibility to halt such a compromising situation, yet he didn’t. Not only did he allow him to kneel before him without a word, but he also tempted him to act, to take action and approach the moistened pink mouth.
It was thicker but shorter than Sukuna’s, with the perfect size for his mouth and the ideal length for a deep throat. Simply perfect.
He took both balls in his palm, starting a path of kisses from the perineum to the tip. The salty taste ran over his tongue like the most delicious appetizer as he distractedly sucked on the salty nipple. The obscene sound of his lips peeling away from the flesh drew a groan from the excited blond. His hands, which had until now remained still on the desk, lowered to his shoulders, keeping him close to his hips and pushing gently.
Toji widened his throat to carefully lower himself to the base of the cock. The mix of saliva and pre-cum fully filled the length. He shook his wrist around the base while continuing with lazy, wet kisses around it, shamelessly teasing the man’s patience by ignoring the blowjob from seconds ago to play with his surroundings.
The dark-haired man’s playful smile was enough to break Kento’s limit. He took a handful of his long dark hair and rubbed it directly against his erect cock, showing him where bitches belonged. Toji barely made a sound when he returned to the deep throat, this time forced.
The power, the rhythm, the desperation to make him come swelled his cock like no other dick had before.
Like a salty burst, the mix of semen and sweat spilled into his palate. He swallowed with enjoyment, showing how clean the pink organ was, not a drop wasted. He was finally released, and Professor Kento’s heavy breathing was a damn aphrodisiac to his senses. Not only did his cock beg to be freed; his breasts burned, desperate for attention. Sukuna had been ignoring his upper half for days, using only his mouth and ass. His man’s lack of interest had him, besides confused, repressed. Toys and fingers weren’t enough, nor comparable to the delicious treat before him.
—Take off your shirt.
The order was direct, without a hint of doubt or regret, so clear and dominant that Toji might have looked like an obedient boy just by listening.
He slid the thin tank top up, revealing his turgent brown breasts, with swollen nipples sensitive and irritated by the cold air conditioning. Added to the piercings placed there. At first, they were annoying, but they elevated the experience to absurd levels when sucked.
He confirmed the visual direction centered on his chest; Professor Kento had no qualms about letting him know how much he desired that area.
—Something you like, Professor? Sir?~
—Get on the fucking desk.
He seemed barely able to articulate words, trembling with anticipation like a desperate boy. He took a seat on the spacious desk, and his breasts were soon taken. They were like two masses of warm bread, evaporating the moisture that covered his toasted skin.
—Ahg!~
He bit his lip, trying to control his hands that were about to land on Kento’s and show him how and where he wanted to be touched. He didn’t just want him to play with the fat around them; his nipples clamored for attention too. But when he seemed to lose the battle with his subconscious, it wasn’t fingers that landed there, but a wet mouth that took care of sucking them vehemently, taking turns to play with each.
He definitely lost the battle, releasing countless moans and whimpers of pleasure while gripping the blond hair tightly. He’d pulled hard enough to deserve punishment, expecting a repressive slap to the face, but instead, the mouth stopped, pushing him back.
Now, his pants were shreds on the floor, falling alongside the swivel chair.
His freed cock slapped against the blond’s defined cheek but was olympically ignored. Nanami was more interested in the clenched, throbbing hole just inches away.
The mischievous tongue now descended to the rim, sucking fiercely. Removing the man from his ass would be like pulling a rabid predator away from its recent prey, too focused on opening and savoring it.
Toji lowered his hand to his neglected cock, shaking it rhythmically to the tune of the other’s suction. He felt his orgasm so close he could see the clear drops of sweat turn into stars. As the seconds passed and his hole was devoured with the hunger of a man adrift, he felt his orgasm abruptly interrupted as he was placed face down.
He was about to protest, but Kento’s large hand anticipated any action, distracting him by inserting his elongated fingers into his mouth, making him taste himself.
Nanami spread one of the dark-haired man’s cheeks, observing the stretched and wet hole ready. It seemed the man was well-trained in anal sex, or his ass was regularly abused, as he’d never seen a hole as perfect and stretched as this.
Lost in his own pleasure and the haze of the unexpected situation, it took him more than a few seconds to align and push, gladly receiving the tight ring. His palm rested on Toji’s buttock, caressing roughly before releasing small slaps that rose with the intensity of his hips moving. The clash of bodies echoed in the already empty room. Toji’s ass moved like a damn expert slut, sucking as if he hadn’t tasted anything better.
His free hand held the jet-black hair, forcing the older man’s face against the pile of ungraded exams on his desk. Toji could feel his cock rubbing and dripping against the polished wood, probably sticking to and staining the messy paperwork.
Their movements grew weak with their imminent orgasm, making them reduce the intensity and force of their thrusts to be shorter and more direct.
The glasses that until recently rested on the bridge of his nose were barely held in place amid such agitation; he grabbed the edge of one of the frame’s legs, throwing them onto the opposite couch. He wanted to see firsthand what his body fused with Toji’s could create, besides a brutal and erotic symphony: the strong, less-than-delicate back, shoulders built like oak, and an ass so perky and warm it could qualify as a national treasure. The best pussies in the world must be from Japan.
He wouldn’t last much longer, and though the idea of tasting the tight cheeks again was tempting, he couldn’t take any more of his frantic performance and the desperation with which both gave in to finish collapsed on the older man’s wet back.
He barely managed to regain autonomy of his tired body; he pulled out of the other man, observing the thread of warm sperm sliding down the dark-haired man’s buttocks and thighs. Kento, in his clouded judgment, completely forgot the condom, but he’d have to admit how hot it was to see his semen sliding between both ripe peaches.
Toji regained his composure, fixing his hair and pulling up what remained of his underwear stuck around his left ankle. His shirt and pants returned to their place, while the other recovered his neat appearance.
—Well, Mr. Fushiguro, I think I could make an exception if your son’s case is just an isolated experience.
—Of course, I’ll talk to him. A pleasure, Professor Kento.
—Please, call me Nanami.