John looked confused. “I lie down? I don't get...” he blushed furiously. “On top of you? I sort of thought that was how it was done..."
"Just trust me, John.” He gave him a little push towards the mattress. “I promise you'll enjoy it.” Percy found the entire thing rather charming.
John lay down on his back, looking up at Percy. Despite his confusion, he was rock hard.
Percy climbed onto the bed and straddled John's hips. He scooted his knees up until he was positioned perfectly. He reached down and curled his fingers around John's slicked and slippery cock, then slowly lowered himself. When he had the head pressing against his own body, he leaned back slightly and eased down, impaling himself on John an inch at a time. He watched the other's face, his own chest rising and falling with his labored breaths.
John moaned and whimpered, holding with effort. When he was fully inside Percy, he stopped. “Oh my, Percy. So tight, so hot..."
Percy gasped for breath, remaining still for a moment as his body adjusted to John's size. “Is it all right?” he asked, reorienting himself so that his hands braced on John's thighs behind him.
"I don't think...” John struggled for words. “I don't think all right really covers it.” He gave an involuntary thrust.
Percy grinned and started to move more quickly. He rode John's cock, thrusting him deep each time. “Mmm, you're filling me up, John, so deep inside me,” he murmured.
John was reduced to moans, his hands coming to rest on Percy's hips. His chest was damp with sweat, and his eyes were wide. “Percy..."
Percy pumped his hips up and down, quickly starting to lose control. John was so different from the other lovers he'd had. “Touch me?” he whimpered.
John looked confused for a moment, then got the idea, wrapping his hand around Percy's bobbing cock. He ended up just sort of holding it while Percy moved, but the effect was the same. “Percy, I don't know how much longer I can..."
Percy clamped down around him. “Let go, love,” he moaned. He was right there, too, and he started to shake as he came hard. John followed only a moment later, slim body arching up as he emptied himself inside Percy. He cried out his friend's name hoarsely.
The position was new for Percy as well, and he carefully lowered himself onto John's body, panting hard. He rested his cheek against John's shoulder, still shivering. He smiled and let out a long, contented sigh. “Mmm,” he hummed quietly.
John's arms came up to encircle Percy, hugging him close as he gradually slipped out of his body. “That was quite incredible,” he finally managed. “Is it always like that?"
"Mmmyess,” he purred. “It's lovely, isn't it?” he asked. “Although I can't give testimony to what it might be like with a woman. The idea never held my interest.” He loved to be held like this, though the differences called to mind another that he longed for still.
"Was I good enough? I know I'm not as good as...” He stopped, evidently thinking he'd said too much.
Percy's eyes widened. “As good as whom?” he asked. Suddenly he was paranoid that John knew who he had been with.
John seemed taken aback. “As your lover,” he said, stumbling over the word.
He relaxed marginally. “Oh. Well, it was your first time, but it was lovely. You can't compare yourself to other people. Everyone is different. Everyone has unique strengths and weaknesses, if you will.” He smiled and rested his head down again. “You really have nothing to worry about, John."
John smiled and snuggled closer. “Does that mean we could give it another go some time?"
Percy nuzzled John's neck. “Yes, I think that might be a fine idea.” He enjoyed being held. He closed his eyes and let his mind go blank for a moment, just feeling.
They both had classes for the remainder of the day, so reluctantly they got dressed again. Percy was pleased that John seemed happier at their parting this time.
Soon they fell into something of a pattern. For the first few days, John wanted to experiment almost every free moment, and Percy was too charmed to deny him. But eventually they both realized that schoolwork came first.
When Percy attended mathematical theory class, he took notes and avoided eye contact with Alastair as much as possible. Alastair appeared content with that. He, too, paid Percy no special attention. He did not ask to see him after class. He only spoke directly to him when absolutely necessary.
When they were given individual assignments, Percy found that his were rather pathetically simple, things that took him almost no time to complete. He knew what Alastair was doing. He was leaving him no possible excuse to seek him out, no need for assistance from his professor.
A week passed, then two, and Percy lost what little hope he had left. He spent time with John, and it was fun, but they both understood that it was nothing serious. John still fancied girls, and Percy suspected that as soon as he had a few appropriate introductions he would have no difficulty finding a pretty little heiress. They would enjoy each other while they could, and their friendship would not be compromised. It was a nice arrangement, and John never mentioned Percy's “lover” again.
Former lover, he amended silently as he scribbled some notes in Alastair's classroom a full month after that fateful evening when he'd attempted to see him. He had thought it would become less painful over time, but seeing him several times a week was like picking at a wound and never allowing it to heal.
When class was over, Percy couldn't leave quickly enough. He thought perhaps he'd change his seat to one closer to the exit, but he sat in the front of the room in all of his classes, and it just seemed cowardly to him.
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Chapter Fourteen
At long last it was Friday, and Monday was a bank holiday. Many of the students with shorter journeys to home were leaving the school. Percy had no intention of going clear up to Scotland just in time to turn around and come back, but that didn't mean he couldn't stay in the townhouse. He'd written a quick note to the staff the day before to prepare them for his arrival.
But the first thing he needed was a drink. He considered the club, but he didn't want to see any of his father's friends. He didn't want to speak to anyone. He just wanted to relax. After sending a few things on ahead to the house, he found himself in a pub within walking distance of school. He'd dressed as simply as possible, not wanting to attract any attention for a change.
The interior of the pub was deliberately dark. It was the kind of place you went to for some serious drinking, and most of the occupants were doing just that with a minimum of fuss.
Percy took a seat at the far end of the bar. He didn't look at any one person for more than a moment, other than the publican as he lumbered over. “Whatever scotch you have will do,” he said quietly. He placed a gold coin on the bar. “Perhaps two."
The man set a mostly clean glass in front of Percy, and began to pour into it from a bottle. With a glance at the coin, he left the bottle beside the glass.
Percy took a hesitant sip, then downed the rest of it in one gulp. It was barely passable, so he thought perhaps it was best to imbibe it as quickly and painlessly as possible. He poured another glass and tossed it back as well. He realized the pub was rather warm, and he might be there for a while, so he stood slowly and removed his cloak, hanging it on a hook on the wall. He resettled himself on his high stool and poured another. He stared into the amber liquid for a while, willing it to erase all thought. He needed to stop thinking about Alastair. Obviously Alastair wasn't thinking about him.
Time seemed to stand still, and all the while the bottle became more and more empty. The scotch no longer tasted nearly as bad as it had on the first glass. Percy hoped that was because he was getting drunk, and not because the glass was becoming progressively cleaner. He pulled out another gold piece and put it on the counter. “My good man, if you would be so kind as to provide a full bottle this time,” he said, his speech getting more formal as his control loosened.
A half empty bottle was s
lammed down onto the bar beside Percy, not from the bartender, but from behind him.
"Here. Have this one. I've finished with it.” The voice was deep, slurred, and very familiar.
Percy nearly toppled off his seat. He turned his eyes to the man behind him, knowing exactly who he would see. He felt a rush of love and fear and excitement. Every muscle in his body tensed. “I did not realize you were here, Professor,” he said softly.
Alastair shrugged elaborately. He remained standing, looming over the younger man. “'Tis a public place. Though I've no doubt you could have me removed if you wished."
Percy frowned at that. “Are you implying that I would do such a thing?” he asked, feeling quite cross. He'd never done anything to Alastair. He'd never even threatened anything, nor would he. He folded his arms across his chest. “How dare you?"
Alastair frowned dangerously. “I'll imply whatever I wish, my lord,” he said, nearly spitting the title. He shook his head. “I'm leaving. I don't even know why I bothered to speak to you, save that I am quite drunk.” He turned to go, unsteadily.
Percy had just enough presence of mind to know that he could not call after the other man with his true emotions in the middle of a public house. He grabbed his cloak and stalked after him. “And what exactly have I done to offend you, Professor?” he hissed as they reached the street. Percy had a carriage waiting for him and he attempted to steer Alastair toward it.
Alastair shook off Percy's touch as if it burned him. He turned to face the younger man, face twisted with drunken fury. “You exist,” he hissed softly, glaring.
Percy stared at him for a moment. He felt as if he'd been stabbed in the heart. He didn't even know how to respond to such a thing, and he took a step back. He sketched a brief bow. “My apologies,” he said hoarsely. Then he turned and started towards his carriage.
But apparently Alastair wasn't finished. He closed the distance between them and grabbed Percy's arm, spinning him around to face him. The older man's eyes were wild. Though he was drunk, he was still a great deal bigger than Percy. “It's all your fault,” he snarled.
Percy raised his chin but not his eyes. “I believe you'll find it easier to pretend that I do not exist if you stop speaking to me,” he hissed. “And what, precisely, is my bloody fault?"
"I tried,” Alastair replied, suddenly closing his eyes. “No matter how I avoided you, I could not stop my mind from returning to you,” he whispered miserably. “You haunt me. That is your crime.” He let go of Percy abruptly.
"You could have fooled me,” he shot back. “And I don't recall doing anything to you beyond...” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Beyond giving myself to you, willingly and enthusiastically. But you tossed me aside, and now you won't even look at me. Have it your way if that's what you want.” He needed more liquor. He needed quiet. He wanted to be home.
Alastair's anger seemed to return all at once. “Toss you aside? I did no such thing. ‘Twas you who were clearly tired of our ... arrangement."
They weren't nearly far enough from school, and Percy wrenched open the door of the carriage. He grabbed Alastair's arm and pushed him towards it. “Get in, unless you'd like all your colleagues to hear your bellowing voice."
"Don't bloody well care anymore,” mumbled Alastair, but he climbed in regardless, stumbling back into the plush seat.
Percy followed him in and shut the door. The driver knew where to go. “How did you manage to convince yourself that I was tired of our arrangement after you kicked me out of your house?” he asked, incredulous.
"You seemed less than eager to resume,” Alastair pointed out. His voice was rapidly becoming more slurred. “You did not seek me out. Or write to me over the holidays. Despite ... despite our last night together."
"I'm reasonably certain I apologized for that already. And I did seek you out when I returned. Twice. The first time you fucked me over your desk. The second time you wouldn't even look at me, and you sent me away.” He sat back, folding his arms again.
"I will not be humored,” Alastair growled, leaning closer and glaring at Percy. “If you'd wanted me like I wanted you, you would have...” he trailed off, perhaps realizing he'd said too much.
Percy's eyes widened. The glimmer of hope that had been fading was starting to bloom anew. “You may be under the impression that I can read your thoughts, but you're mistaken. But apparently, you can't read mine, either, because I most certainly do want you."
The carriage lurched on a rough patch of road, and Alastair nearly fell on top of Percy. He stared into the younger man's eyes from inches away and growled, “Prove it."
Percy was instantly rock hard. He had never seen Alastair like this, so raw and out of control. It was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. He pushed the older man back by the shoulders and climbed onto his lap, facing him. He grabbed Alastair by the hair to tip his face up, then he kissed him roughly, forcing his way between his lips with a low moan.
Alastair moaned, seemingly frozen with shock for a moment before he kissed back ferociously. He possessed Percy's mouth and touching him everywhere. He groped the younger man's ass roughly, and arched up, grinding his arousal into Percy's stomach.
Percy wanted to weep with joy. He was overcome with relief. When he had to break the kiss to gasp for breath, he stared into Alastair's eyes. “We're on our way to my house. I hope you'll do me the honor of being my guest for the weekend, Professor,” he whispered hoarsely.
"If that means you'll be naked and underneath me, then yes,” Alastair moaned, pulling them even closer together.
Percy whimpered. “I think that can be arranged,” he said. He kissed him again, threading his fingers through Alastair's hair. The carriage rolled to a stop and he pulled back. “Oh. Here already,” he whispered. He climbed off of Alastair's lap reluctantly, smoothing his own hair back for a moment before stepping out onto the pavement and up the front steps, leaving Alastair to follow. He felt light-headed and giddy suddenly, as the night air accentuated the alcohol in his system. He paused before the door, smiling brilliantly at Alastair, then rapped sharply on the door.
It swept open a moment later, and the butler greeted them. Things went by in a whirlwind, and Percy wove unsteadily up the steps, dismissing the dour servant as he led Alastair to the bedroom.
When they were alone in the room, Alastair didn't hesitate. He grabbed Percy by the hair and slammed him up against the wall, fastening his mouth to the younger man's and grinding their bodies together once again. Percy sobbed into Alastair's mouth, gripping his shoulders. He had thought this was gone forever, that Alastair didn't want him. He couldn't have cared less if Alastair broke every bone in his body. He submitted to him completely, moaning, fighting to draw air into his lungs.
Alastair was like a man possessed. He nearly ripped the clothes off Percy's body, growling and touching every new inch of flesh as if he would die without it. It was sloppy and violent. His senses swirled and before he knew what was happening, Percy found himself naked and flung back onto the bed on his back. He scrambled back on the wide mattress. “Please, Alastair. I want you."
Now Alastair fumbled with his own clothes, advancing on Percy. “Oil,” he snarled. “Or we will do without. Hurry!"
Percy sat up, feeling dizzy for a moment. He scooted off the bed and disappeared into the adjoining dressing room for a moment, returning with a vial of oil. He put it beside the bed and got into position again. He was used to Alastair being frightening sometimes. It only exhilarated him more.
Now Alastair was naked, and he climbed onto the bed and on top of Percy. “Mine,” he declared, running his hands all over the slender man beneath him. He shoved Percy's legs apart roughly.
Percy sucked in a breath and spread himself wide apart for Alastair. He gazed at him, panting hard, touching his chest lightly, tentatively. “Yours,” he whispered. That word infected him, and claimed him completely. This was what he wanted. This man.
Alastair oiled his cock quickly, then pressed
the head against Percy. “Need you,” he breathed, then plunged in hard.
Percy arched up beneath him, biting his lip to stop himself from screaming. His legs spread wider, pulling up and wrapping around Alastair's body. All thought was blotted out in that perfect moment. It was fast and brutal and couldn't last. Alastair took Percy savagely, grunting his name and not much else. He reached down to stroke Percy.
Percy whimpered piteously. “I ... I need to, oh please, Alastair. I'm going to c-come,” he ground out, holding back with every last shred of control.
"Yes,” groaned Alastair, pounding harder. “Oh God..."
Percy let go the moment Alastair consented. His head tipped back on the pillow as he arched beneath him, tensing. He came over Alastair's fist and across his own belly. He murmured his lover's name over and over as he sank into the bottomless abyss of pleasure. Alastair climaxed almost immediately after, a strangled scream wrought from his throat as he stilled atop Percy.
Percy stared up into Alastair's eyes for long moments as his breaths gradually slowed. He wetted his lips and stretched his arms above his head, trying to release his muscles from their state of temporary shock. Then he lowered one arm and touched Alastair's face. Everything that had happened, everything he'd said in the last hour, seemed to suddenly fit into an enormous puzzle. “You really thought I didn't want you?” he whispered, voice raw and scratchy.
Alastair didn't seem inclined to move from his position on top of Percy. “Yes,” he said. “All the evidence seemed to point to the fact that you'd moved on. Found someone else to amuse you more than I could.” He looked away.
Percy again felt a stab of guilt. “Alastair,” he said quietly. “Anyone else could only pale in comparison.” He slid his fingers around the back of Alastair's neck. “I never stopped wanting you. Every night it was you I thought of. Every class was torture to be near you and not be with you."
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