Title: Honey Lips II
Pairing: Ruki x Uruha
Genre: College, smut, ProfXStudent
Warnings: None, except for not beta-read
Disclaimer: Not owning anyone in the story, only the story
Synopsis: On Ruki’s first day back at college he’s visiting a promising sounding lecture. Both the lecture and the lecturer turn out to be extremely enticing, more than he’d ever thought they’d be.
Author’s notes: YES! Finally, I made it. I wrote and upped a fic that is not negative whatsoever, no death, no despair, it’s just… a fic. And a long one ^ ^” It’s almost 8000 words *bows for forgiveness* You know what? I love college. I lovelovelovelove it xD I get the best ideas there *laughs* So erm… If I’d dedicate it to anyone, it prolly would be to that prof of mine. Hehe… Though, alas, he’s not even remotely beautiful, let alone of such an alluring personality. Sadly.
About the name I gave Uru’s character as the prof, Mashin Mitsudou 蜜道魔唇, it’s entirely made up. I like playing around with Kanjis. A lot. ^^”
And for the smut… You’ll have to be a bit patient, but there’ll be … some XD~
First day back at college, and the others were already going on my nerves. That perpetual chit-chat, those voices going up and down like busy flies… There still were people arriving, sitting down, some of the staged seats creaking under the weight. The rustling of paper as some of the diligent ones took out their writing pads, the cluttering of pens being put on the little extendable tables. Some of the girls chatting and giggling like teenagers, though they were actually far beyond that age. You should have thought they had more brain up in there skulls to think their high-pitched tittering was anywhere close to attracting. If I hadn’t liked being at university so much, I probably wouldn’t have put up with all of this, instead settled with a job, and left any
educational institution behind me. But I loved it; so why should I bother. I just sank back into my seat, pulled my shoulders up and waited for the course to start. “Psychology in the conscious usage of language”
. It had allured me. Yes, there definitely was
something to language, the way you could use it, and the ways you utter words in. I was curious about what that new professor, Mashin Mitsudou, whatever name that
was, had to lecture
The minutes passed while I did nothing at all, but staring ahead of me, day dreaming, thinking about what I’d do after the course, looking down at the door from time to time when someone who might look like a professor walked through it.
Then, I stirred. I’d seen most of my fellow students previously, but this person… I’ve never seen them in my life before, ever. If I ever had seen that person walking past me on a street, I would have remembered. He… was carrying a couple of books and some maps inside. It went sort of quiet in the hall for a second, and when he put them down on the lectern, and it was clear who he was, the voices were raising again, accompanying him while he walked back outside to get more stuff, not ever looking up at the people once. But my eyes… they had been glued to him, while I tried to both stay put and sunk in my seat and raise up to get a better view … That creature… I really don’t know how to describe him. He was male
, yes, with dark jeans and a white shirt, simple, but seemingly custom-made, but the face… not even ‘angelic’ could put it into words. With my eyes directed at the door, I tried to ignore the mocking voices that were quite audible from all over the room.
“Was he wearing make-up?” Tee-hees.
“Oh my Gods, ahahaha, was that a man or a woman?” Laughter.
“Does that guy have boobs?” Cheering, accompanied by roaring laughter in the back rows, and “A bit flat for a gal, eh?” More cheering.
“Holy shit, if that is a guy, he must be either gay or… “
He came in again, but the voices, they didn’t stop, they only hushed a bit, and continued, as a low murmur. I was about to boil over, wanting to smash some of their skulls to jam, while on the other side I wasn’t even able to move, I just stared, and, I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but I was
blushing. Not that I would deny that I don’t mind guys but… I prefer girls, you know.
Again, he never even glanced at anyone. He just went up to his lectern after having closed the door behind him, leaned on it and looked down, at the books, or the wood, a strand of the brown hair falling down, dangling from his forehead in front of those rolling lips that I started to develop a fascination for already then. There were more laughters… and I don’t think that I was breathing when he finally raised his gaze, flipping the hair back from his face in a single elegant motion, and raised his voice to something that I am not sure if you could call it voice anymore, and filled the room - filled it thoroughly.
“Language…” it spoke, and sounded very much like a prophecy or warning of some God. Not enough to drown the chortling and mumbling sounds, so he repeated, more powerful, “Language…”, he leaned more onto the lectern, while his gaze roamed over the faces, one by one by one, scrutinizing each and every one of them, yet never staying long enough for them to be able to detect anything in his gaze at all. He went on, sliding over the attendees, “...is mighty. Words… ”
His eyes met mine. I pressed myself back against the seat, didn’t dare to blink, just stared back, feeling all too warm out of a sudden, with those almond eyes piercing through me in a way that made me wonder if they actually saw beyond
. The air around me seemed to tighten as he did not
move his fixed look from off my face as he’d done with all the others, instead, his lips twitched into a slight smirk, and then formed words, precise, exact, not uttering a single sound as his tongue touched the upper row of his teeth, disconnected while his mouth stayed open, round, then that perfect white row went down on his bottom lip for a labial sound, the first word, his lips connecting and pressing against each other to do an almost smacking motion, almost thrusting
those lips forward, lingering half opened for a split second that sent hot shivers down my spine, and the next instant, his gaze snaked on, the smirk disappeared, and his sentence wrapped up, “… are powerful.”
I felt dizzy. It was too unreal, that message, or whatever it was. But I didn’t have time to think about it. His words roped me in, enticed me, I just had
to listen. It didn’t even matter if he was doing the weather report, or preach, or tell fairy-tales, the only thing that mattered was that voice. That voice that raised even more now, burying the mocking and taunting sounds that had continued from before. He went on, with his
voice, yet it was slightly transformed. “Oh dear Gods, look at him
. … Is he a guy or a woman?”
Some people were silenced then, shutting there mouths and blinking, not having expected him to react to their mocking at all, unsure even if he’d heard them.
“Oh, haha, he’s wearing make-up, did you see? Now if that’s not a fucking fag, and look at the way he moves.”
Silence. No words coming from his lips either. He just stood there, with his lips slightly parted, viewing something and nothing, maybe waiting. I prayed they might be quiet now, and forever, embarrassed and compromised.
Yet, one feisty male individual spoke out “Well? Are you?”, and his buddies encouraged him, cheering, loosening the atmosphere and having the whole crowd in glee. Apart from me. And him. However, unlike me, he
was handling the situation quite well. Not to say, splendid. They were only allowed to laugh for a second, before his voice bore through the auditorium like thunder.
“If any of you feel as if they would want to challenge me on a verbal level, if any
of you are of the opinion you might even remotely come close to winning any battle held against me, go ahead and try. Go ahead and try if you have the courage to stand up and speak what is truly on what you call minds, and I call fastidious cells that haven’t even learnt proper articulation, yet try to spell the word ‘onomatopoeia’. Try and tell me what it is that you are deeply concerned about, that made you come here and draw on my time and effort. If you really think you have something to say, stand up and speak. If you have any doubts on why you are here, today, then leave. Leave the auditorium this minute, because I will not tolerate half heartedness. Do you still want to challenge me? Go on and try.” His voice dropped half an octave, drawling his last words out. “You will go… down.”
There. Utter silence. I swear I was cheering on the inside. Of course, no one dared to say one more word. It was so quiet, I could hear people behind me breathe
, very slowly and very conscious. I felt like turning around and leer at whoever had thought they were being brave, just to see their buffaloed expression. Honestly though, I’d rather given away my left hand than have my attention on anyone but him.
Since no one dared to do anything at all, he went on as if no interruption had occurred, he went on about words, and the power conveyed within them. He didn’t stand still behind the wooden lectern, but moved around it, from left to right, calmly gesticulating, directly looking at the attendees, asking then, what words could do.
“You, back there,” he said and pointed, “Tell me. What can words do?” Of course, obligatory silence at first, as it is common amongst students and pupils, but he urged him on, made
him talk. “Tell me. Anything. What can words do?”
The guy hesitated, but answered. “Ummm… “ I could practically hear him shift a bit. “They can… pander to something… they can express emotions. They… “
“Only tell me with one word what they can do.”
“Umm… They can… manipulate.”
Mitsudou nodded. Motioned with his hand for him to go on.
“… They can… describe. Give false evidence. They can be heard…”
He smiled curtly, nodded, and pointed at a girl. She went on “Umm… they can lie. Cheat.”
“Be written down. Advertise. Define. Confuse.”
His hands moved, and moved, and voices spluttered and spurted answers, definite answers just like imaginary or witty ones, he got them going, he kept
them going. Word, after word, after word.
“Praise. Lie. Soothe. Cling. Torture.”
Until, inevitable, the ideas got used up, and words were fewer, and ‘ums’ and ‘erms’ and ‘I don’t knows’ came up frequently, until they were the only things that people could come up with, those or words that had already been mentioned. It was interesting to hear how fast they all had gotten into it. He was a damn good prof, really. He had everyone where he wanted them. At the exact
place he wanted them. And he had our undivided attention, then. Sometimes, individuals would come up with new words, and he nodded approvingly; whenever a word was being repeated, he shook his head and smiled shortly, calling on someone else.
Words got fewer and fewer, silence spread, and then, after a while of no one knowing an answer, it happened. He was looking at me. Again.
I swallowed, and stared. Gods, I had felt pretty secure all the time up until then. He’d never called me up, never, instead putting me into the position I enjoyed most of all - to just watch and listen, ‘lean back and enjoy’. Now, it felt as if a myriad of spicules were directed right at me. That smile. That damn smile. Spreading across his face, and his voice, calm. “What’s your name?”
I told him the name I was commonly known under. What everybody called me. Wondering why he cared about my name, when he had never asked anybody else in the auditorium for their name.
He shook his head. “No. I asked you for your name
, your real name, not what people call you.” Crossed those veined arms, one of the slender hands wrapping around the light flesh. I tried hard not to stare at the sinews showing on the back of his hand. Must have forgotten to catch breath, too, and caught up with that lapse, trying to convince myself that I wasn’t giving a foolish impression. Caught up, and told him my real name.
The slightest of nods with his chin indicated that he was pleased with my answer, and the light curling up of the corners of his mouth seemed to indicate something else. He called my name, then, and it was as if it was honey dripping from his lips, molasses, slowly trickling down and smearing across them, gathering in drops and running down those plush tiers, golden liquid on his pair of ambrosial petals, golden honey, reflecting the light that was radiating from him… That honey. I wanted to lick it off them, smear it all over his mouth and his face, drench him with that honey just like he was soaking me, returning the favour, gilding him with it, using my tongue to gild him, running it over the edge of his bottom lip to gather up a drop, trace its path to between his lips, push it back in between them, following with my tongue, having them open up and press his warm body against mine and -
“Do you have any words left that haven’t been mentioned?”, he asked, bringing me back into a reality that wasn’t as unpleasant as it might have seemed, given that those inscrutable almond eyes were fixated on me, and no one else but me. Not so pleasant was the fact that I obviously had been drifting off into something that I couldn’t exactly call ‘innocent daydreaming’, and the images still hanging so vividly around my head made it hard to even breathe, let alone answer. I resisted the urge to say ‘what?’ and have him repeat the question.
“Umm…”, I managed to croak, nervously fidgeting with my fingers under the desk, “I… I think they’ve all been mentioned already”
His eyes told me that he didn’t believe me, “Now… “, and his voice sounded too much like cooing to be soothing or helping keeping me off thoughts I never should have had to begin with. “… I am sure there is more. You know some. Tell me.”
Tell me. Tell me. Like silk running across my skin, wrapping me cooly in a deadly embrace, having me engulfed in pleasant sounds caught in a gentle spring wind and… I furrowed my brows. Words? What was he talking about? I remembered then. ‘What words could do.’ He was waiting for an answer. And to cry out loud it seemed as if he’d continue to stare me down until I’d said something. I had been so sure every possibility that wasn’t totally off had already been brought up. However, he wanted something, and I’d be damned to not give him what he demanded, so, stuttering, I stated what came to my mind. Words…
“Th..they can… love.”
My heart missed a beat when I heard myself say it. And missed another beat when his eyes narrowed and the corners of his lips moved, in ways that reminded me too much of a wildcat that had just licked its first portion of honey, and before my heart could miss another beat I concentrated on my own
words, trying to overcome the lurking demons beyond my thoughts, fool them by actually thinking, breaking the eye contact to have one thing less to distract me.
That was when I found my voice again. “Mmmm… and tantalize. Seduce. Words can… seduce.”
Later I tried to reconstruct all the other words that had been mentioned and wondered, if that one really hadn’t been mentioned yet. If
it had, he didn’t show it. Instead, he looked at me, piercing the air between us with a glance so fiery that I felt I had to burst into flames if he’d looked at me any longer.
Just then he turned away, and went on with his lecture.
No other incident occurred, and I kept puzzling over if it really had happened the way I thought
that it had, or if it all was just a phantom my mind had made up.
He never called on me again, not once, and through the whole hour that was left, I kept watching him, kept listening to him, more and more absorbed by his voice, more and more fascinated by every movement, every glance, everything he radiated… he practically shone
. I don’t know how to express it in any other way. There was this light
about him… it was impossible not to look at him, yet it wasn’t possible to really see
I can’t recall the rest of the lecture. There are words, hanging in the back of my head still, but to be honest, I wasn’t as much following what he said as I was following the way how
he said things. The way his lips moved. Contracted, relaxed. Curled and rolled. Contracted, relaxed. Curled. Rolled. I was… imagining them… at too many places that weren’t appropriate places for them to be…
And he really kept the people going. Asking, no, shooting
question at them, making them think, making them actually want
to solve the problems, want
to find out, and look beyond the many surfaces.
It all went past me in a blur, it seemed, a blur with only one, focused center. Oh I well tried not
to stare at him… I guess there even were moments when I didn’t, but scribbled around on my papers, drawing circles and lines that I kept blotting out because they looked too much like lips to me, and whenever I did, I looked up again, and just then, it seemed to me as if his eyes had rested on me, moving away just when I raised my head.
And then, eventually, it was over. The students gave their enthusiastic knocking on the desks, but as it is common student-thing, they all wrapped up as soon as possible, leaving the room for their well-earned break. Only few people lingered, chatting with each other, taking their time in getting their stuff together. I don’t know if I actually lingered
, I guess I could just not move.
It would be a lie to say that I had any thought of leaving that room so soon, but actually, my thoughts had been drifting off again, and I was only ‘woken up’ as a girl accidently hit my foot while trying to get out from behind her table, having me jerk up. Almost in panic my eyes went around to see if he still was there. He was, though. He had his things stacked orderly on the lectern, and presently was erasing the whiteboard. I blinked and wondered when he’d taken off his jacket. Probably some time during the lecture… I just had failed to notice. His bladebones were moving under the thin fabric of his shirt while he stretched and worked away, it really had me wish the temperature to be 10 or 20 degrees higher, just to have him remove that piece of clothing as well, just to have me see the way his muscles worked under his fair skin, see the sweat run down it slowly, beckoning me to lick it off and then he put the eraser down, turned around, took his things and opened the door to the back room.
I can’t recall now why I did it, and how I managed, but just the second he was out of sight, I practically jumped up, slung my bag around my shoulder after having stuffed the papers into it, and walked toward the room with fervent, unerring steps - only to hesitate on the threshold.
I’d never seen that door open ever before, nor did I have the slightest of ideas that there would be something like a small classroom beyond it, with its chairs, a couple of tables, a teacher’s desk in the end opposite the door and a blackboard, plus a small basin in the right corner of it. The room was much broader than stretched, making him, who was standing in front of the teacher’s desk, be much closer than I’d expected him to be. And he was looking directly at me, with a hint of surprise on his face as he recognized me, then smiled, and nodded as if to invite me in.
I swallowed lightly and got inside, setting one foot in front of the other, or, intending to, but then he cast a look into direction door and I turned around, and closed it. His smile spread as he leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms, waiting for me to come closer.
I did… putting my bag down on one of the tables while I was walking, my eyes never leaving his, rather, me not being allowed to look anywhere else than his eyes, walking on, step by step, without hesitation, slowly or quickly, I can’t remember, the only thing I know is that I got closer and closer, his head angling just a bit more and more the closer I got and the more our difference in size got more and more noticeable, closer, closer… my head was racing with what to say, what to tell him; it felt terribly lame to congratulate him to such a great lecture, practically everything I had in mind sounded lame, but I would have to say something
, just to excuse my existence in this very room, my existence next to his… presence, I had to say some
thing but had no idea what… until I stood so close he could have called the officials and accused me for sexual harassment, and he would have gotten away with it, locking me up in jail for at least a couple of months.
Probably. He would be able to do any
thing. With words. I’m sure.
I was staring up. Tensed up. Opening my mouth to say something, closing it.
He was looking down. Relaxed. Controller of the situation. An amused smirk formed in the right corner of his mouth. Those eyes. Hazel. I’d never been so close to him before, and wondered how anyone actually could stand
being so close to him. He bereaved me of breath, he made the air grow thick and heavy with the lust I was feeling and trying to vanquish, his presence felt like a mocking effigy of everything I wanted but could never have, he was the potential, the spark, the fire, the light and the darkness, the lust and innocence, night and day, every possible way of seduction and every manner of quashing resistance.
My mouth opened once more as I tried to force something out from between my lips, something about how great an orator he was, how inspiring his speeches had been, but the only sounds that managed to edge through my constricted throat were a croak and a strangled squeak, while in my head I told him “You’re an awesome lecturer. I can’t find any words to express what you made me feel. I really enjoyed that lecture”
It was true, but -
A short chuckle surged from his lips. Now as I was so close, they even looked more alluring than they had from farer off, inviting me to suck at them, nibble at them, pull them and…
“Oh really…”, he whispered sultrily. Yes. Sultrily. I didn’t have an idea what he was actually referring to, maybe he was reading something off my lips, or my face, because surely he couldn’t have heard what I’d only thought, and surely
I hadn’t managed to bring forth any sound that came remotely close to a word, yet, he seemed to have understood some
thing… and it wasn’t as if I’d been caught up in my own lust to interpret everything about him as lust-filled, I rather held my breath in disbelief of the tone his voice had endued, and stared closer, only seeing me reflected in his eyes, those eyes that seemed so much darker out of a sudden, narrowed, fixated.
He moved, shifted his weight, and I swear that I gasped for air when his hands, those strong, slim, veined hands suddenly were unwound from their position, and that I - when he leaned in, and down, licking over his lips just when they were about to touch mine, touching my quivering bottom lip with his tongue - made a soft noise that was too much of a moan as that I could have excused that situation later as having been one of involuntary assault.
Maybe I shouldn’t have given in. But fact is, that I did. The second his right wound around my waist and his left slid over my shoulder to the back of my neck, pushing me closer, that second I was lost already, to him, to the situation, that same second his honey lips went down on mine, whispering a “You can love me now…” and then locked around them effortlessly with his body pushing against mine, that very second, the ground opened up and swallowed me, making me fall down through it through all the heavens there were, taking me with him and…
“M...Mitsudousensei?”, a frail voice whispered. Only after the words had left my mouth I noticed it were in fact mine, and that I was still in that classroom, not falling, just feeling as if I was very close to actually doing so.
His fingers pressed gently into my flesh, winding his arm tighter around my midriff, while his lips wandered over my cheek to my ear, moving them against it in a way that sent both hot and cold shudders down my back, “Call me… Uruha.”
Maybe I did
wonder why I’d never heard nor read that name in connection with him before, maybe I did, but I had fairly little time to think about it, because he pressed his mouth against the patch of skin just beneath my ear, bit into it, then sucked it, and I forgot everything then, everything but him, and me, and that name, and I moaned it, finally overcoming my frozenness in my limbs and touching him, sliding my hands over his sides, up to his chest, baring my neck for him, leaning my head all the way back as his tongue lavished its front, licking upwards to my chin, softly biting it in an oddly adorable way that made me grin, which made him
grin, before his hot tongue slid upwards to my bottom lip, licking over it while his hand in my nape went up to the back of my skull, pushing my head back down again, breathing onto my warm lips so hotly, I groaned. I could smell him, so intensely it could have burst my olfactory center with ease, his scent was there, presently in his breath, hitting the sensitive skin of my lips, and everywhere around him, wrapping me up into it, wanting me to die
in its center. My hands clutched the front of his immaculate shirt, wrenched at it, helpless, I felt so goddamn helpless in his embrace.
“Uruha…”, I merely whimpered, my breath striking against his, merging with it, “I…”, and I wasn’t able to say anymore, for his lips went down on mine again, fiery, passionately, sucking at them, pulling, biting, me just leaning in and having him take over completely, having him explore my mouth with his skilled tongue, Gods so much more skilled it was than I’d already known it to be. Suddenly, his hands left my body, and I was just about to protest, when I felt them at my loins, grabbing the hem of my shirt, pushing it upwards, not leaving me any choice but push my hands up so he could wrench it off me, tossing it somewhere before his fingers found the soft flesh in my back again, pressing into it while whirling me around, thrusting me against the desk.
I moaned, groaned, my hands went for his shoulders and pressed him close. I needed those lips back on mine again, needed them now, and I got them without asking aloud, merging us in another kiss, passionate, fervent, and this time, though being nailed against the unyielding wood in my back, it was me who attacked him, scraping my teeth over those petal lips, pinching them, nibbling at them, drowning in the air that still seemed to grow denser with every breath I took, while my hands pushed at his shirt now, and his hands fumbled with the button of my leather trousers. He forced them open and pushed them down just when I was destined to not have any fabric be between our bodies and yanked his shirt upwards so he had to let go off my clothing, just to be freed from it and go down on my pants again, pushing them down finally while our mouths were interlocked like two fighting snakes, until he tore away, panting heavily, kissing my shoulder, muttering into my skin, adorning it with nips that felt gentle at first, but turned into aggressive bites that had me groan and shiver until he started to kiss and lick me instead, moving down over my collar bone, to my chest, purposefully finding my left nipple and as soon as his lips connected with it, he rolled his tongue against the already hardened knob, playing with it so damn thrilling and infuriating I started pushing him down, both my hands on his head now, wanting to have him lower
, to soothe the throbbing, stiffened, uncared for better part of me. He did
go down, but something about the way his lips had contracted against my skin had me suspect that he had other plans.
He never went lower than to my navel, but he ravished it so thoroughly I thought my knees were about to give in. That damn tease sucked and ate my belly button just the way I would have wanted him to engorge himself on a different part of my body, and all my efforts to advert his attention on it by practically thrusting at him every second he let me, were drowned. I groaned, and pulled him upwards by his beautiful silky hair.
The eyes that were gazing down at me then were so drunken and clouded over with lust as I imagined my own to be, their hazel having turned into a dangerous sable black that looked as if it had the quality to have my soul immersed and drowned in them, forever. I whimpered. His lips parted, then joined again, and cocking his head lightly he just stared at me in a way that was both predatory and caring, if not loving at the same time. I was shivering. My whole body consisted of nothing but fever, shudders, and incredible wanton I had never before felt to that extent.
“Say my name…” broke off his lips. I groaned. I didn’t want any games now. I wanted him. Right there. No games. No attires. Just him. With a whimper that made his eyebrows twitch, I said “Uruha… please… just…” and set him off again, this time, pressing his crotch against mine, fucking grinding into me while leaning in, strands of his hair falling into my face as his lips neared my ear. That hot breath striking my skin again made me shudder even more, and I knew I couldn’t take it anymore. My small hands went around his back and seized his buttocks, squeezed and pressed him into me, making him groan into my ear in a way that would have had the straightest of guys have an explosion in their pants, and made me leak, and twitch, and groan. My hands moved on their own accord, swiftly opening his pants and pushing them down. Luckily he helped and wiggled out of them while grinding into me at the same time, having me see stars already, and somehow he made it out of the clothing without ever losing the physical contact to me.
“Fuck…” was the only thing I managed to press forth between my lips, as I was somehow being hauled onto the desk. I pulled him after me, changing my position on it and sliding down the other end of it, whatever his plans had been, I’d crossed them by scraping over the hard wood, not minding, scraping, scratching, hitting something that crashed down next to it with a loud slam, pushing neatly stacked books and papers away in a hurry, total disorder, but he just smirked as he crawled over the wood after me, like a cougar, and slid down it in front of me as elegantly as a kingscobra. His hands went to my shoulders, pressing me into him, and our lips crashed against each other. I swallowed his moans, or maybe he was swallowing mine, while he pushed against me so vigorously that I stumbled backwards until I thudded against the blackboard, groaning, reaching up with a hand to pull at a strand of his hair.
He answered by growling into my lips, pushing at my tongue with his, wrapping his around mine like a battling snake, held it down, sucked at it while grinding into me with a slow rhythm that had me want to come right there on the spot. That tease was driving me perfectly mad already before I’d be even close to have him touch me where I wanted him.
I tugged stronger at his hair, and he pushed me harder against the board, his warm body pressed against mine, rubbing along it. There was practically no air between us, but I wanted him closer. I wanted us to melt
into each other. My hand that was feverishly grasping and releasing the flesh in his back told him a similar story, a story of how I wanted more, and more still. The nails of his fingers scratched lightly down my arms, having me moan louder and grind back into him while his mouth tore from mine to bite into my shoulder, leaving red marks on it. Suddenly his strong hands were at my loins again, massaging them, initiating small explosions in my solar plexus before he finally pushed my underwear down, and I guess his too, because when he then ground into me again, his erection was more than just a hard something behind tight pants.
The next instant his sweet lips were hovering over mine again, making me inhale that intoxicating, heavy sweetness. His body pressed so damn close, I wonder how I was managing to breathe. Then his tongue darted out and licked over my quivering lips, eliciting a shuddering moan from my throat. He smirked. “You want more.”
It was far from being a question. Not even a rhetorical one. I guess that even if I hadn’t
wanted more, the second he’d said those words, I would have found myself crave for more
than just more.
I had no chance to even utter the slightest of consents, for he whirled me around and thrust me against the blackboard, pressing into my back now, brushing the damp strands of hair in my neck back to scrape the bottom row of his teeth up my neck while his hips ground again so terribly slow. I couldn’t but helplessly moan and whimper at the feel of his crotch at my rear. I’d totally lost it.
A hand of his crawled over my shoulder to my cheek, and without him having to tell me what to do I turned my head and sucked at his index and middle finger so savagely that I made him groan against my skin, his hot breath lashing my neck. He retreated his fingers, and then, I felt them. Those fingers that felt so heavenly on my skin were like purgatory in my ass. The sweetest purgatory there would ever be.
My palms pressed against the dark surface, I was about to say something, ask something, some
thing, but my lips weren’t able to move in the way that would have them carry the words my tongue would have produced, my tongue that felt like a staked down eel, coiling, squirming, licking over my lips, feverishly, while my fingernails dug into the black as he pushed his surprisingly strong fingers further and further up inside me and moved
them, moved them close to the way his tongue had moved in my mouth. Exploring. Slickly. Knowing. Bereaved of any sense of articulation, the only sounds I made were soft, strangled groans. I had never before had a man in my life, and no man had ever had me, and there I was, sweaty, boiling, squirming, whimpering, raptured, willing, and totally his
. I trusted him. I just knew that I could. There never even was the hint of distrust about me, about him. Never.
Though somewhere inside, I still was afraid. And he sensed it.
“Shhh…” He pulled out. I groaned, maybe from relief, maybe from regret. He, Uruha, pressed his lips against my shoulder while his hands slid to my waist, and started to softly massage it. “Relax…”, he whispered, and it was him, Uruha, not Mitsudou, whose hands worked into my loins, professionally, slower, deeper, using every single of his fingers to dig into the soft skin, rubbing his palms against them while adorning my neck and shoulder with steady, tender kisses … Hushed moans were my answers, as I gave myself over to the gentle, but claiming touch of his hands. I pushed back, relaxing more and more with the way he made my muscles slacken, the way he suavely made love to my skin.
A motion with his head, and his lips were against my ear again, kindling that fire deep down in my bowels yet again as he started sucking at my earlobe. One of his hands started moving from its location, and crawled
… to my front, moving forwards more, more, until his fingertips touched my hardened, throbbing length. I moaned, long, and vocal, pressing my eyes shut so hard I saw tiny stars, and then suddenly a lot of things happened at the same time.
I pressed back into him, he smirked around my earlobe and heightened the strength of the suction, driving me mad, madder now as his hand slickly wound itself around my stiff member as if it was a cocoon of silk, my sinistral hand left its place close to my shoulder and whooshed down while his fingers where still in the process of wrapping, helping them, closing my small hand over his, and while I pushed back, he pressed against me, and, once again I could feel his cock distinctively against my rump, and this time, there was no dodging. His whole body moved in a peculiar way, and then what I felt weren’t his fingers but unmistakably the head of his cock. I groaned louder, needy, wantonly, despairing, helpless, all in one, wrapping my hand closer around his to make him fucking do
something, and then, he did. Moved his hand up and down my shaft, so damn agonizingly slow in the beginning, combined with the way he commenced thrusting so slow and deep, it made me hit my fists against the blackboard, repeatedly, moaning, grunting, moving against him as much as was possible but… he was the one in control, and the only
one with control.
I couldn’t do anything at all. Not that I wanted
to. I wouldn’t even have brought my thoughts around to think of what I probably could do. He was there, behind me, in contact with me, inside me, wrapped around me, engulfing me, he was everywhere and I was nothing but a tiny tributary to his nonpareil. A paragon of perfection that I would never be able to understand, ever.
And then things started to go round. That’s where I don’t remember details anymore. Everything just turned into one huge, red, burning ball of blazing fire, I can see pictures, but no coherence. He sped up, and the heat between us, the suffocating heat that kept dominating the whole damn room was being turned up even more
, if that was possible at all, and if I’d looked I probably would have seen my skin starting to throw blisters from the burns. The air was dense with groans, pants, heated words that made my head spin, grunts and moans and more words, I found myself pressed against the blackboard, then somewhere else, and turned around, I was facing him at some time, swollen lips engorging one another, hands running everywhere, touching everywhere, lips and tongues being at places they hadn’t been before, bodies so close they would have been mistaken for one, or less, wet strands of hair lashing skin, body-parts being sucked repeatedly, I can see him licking sticky white and gooey semen off his mouth, those honest, deep, perfect eyes gazing into mine and… pictures, pictures and words flooding my mind and heart, with no sense of time or place whatsoever.
The last thing I remember are his words that wrapped around me and engulfed me, and still cling to me, and will cling, for as long as I’m living, clinging like honey that will never age.“I’ll love you with every word that is ever going to leave my lips.”
I have no idea how I managed to live through the week until the next time the course would be on. I really don’t remember what I was doing. How I spent my time. If I managed to distract me enough, or if it all came back to me, every second that I was alone, every second that I wasn’t alone. Or if I only remembered it as if it had been a misty dream. I don’t know. Not anymore. Given that I still remember so clearly now, makes me doubt that it only had seemed like a dream.
Surely, my heart was pounding in my chest when I walked into the auditorium and sat down on my chosen seat. Co-students acting as they always did, some having a good time with their friends, others working on some mathematical problems.
I sat there, nervously. Waiting. Waiting. I never asked myself why my heart felt heavier than it should have. I never asked myself, those moments I spent waiting, why I didn’t feel this excitement that would have been apt. For reasons unknown, I never really asked myself. I noticed that I did, though, but as soon as I noticed, I pushed the thoughts away, waved them away like fluff sailing through the air.
Some thoughts had lulled me in, for I did not notice the prof arriving. When I remarked the person standing behind the lectern with his books on it, I immediately stiffened up.
The man down there… you wouldn’t be able to call him beautiful even with the lights out, ever. … Okay maybe that was a bit harsh, but… this just wasn’t right. I even tried
to make out any similarities between him and Mitsudou, some irrational part of me was trying to believe he was just tricking us with wearing a mask, probably in accordance to today’s topic.
However, the man introduced himself with a completely different name than the one I had learnt the week before. I blinked, slowly, then rapidly as if to get a piece of sand out of my eye, and peered around me to check the reactions of the others. They sure would have to be at least a bit surprised, finding that Mitsudousensei wasn’t here again, instead they had this total stranger face them now.
“Welcome to my lecture on Psychology in the conscious usage of language
. I’m very sorry that I had to cancel our meeting from last week. There’s been a sudden … case in my family that I had to take care of. My apologies, especially to those who weren’t notified and waited here in vain.”
Something very close to panic started crawling up my spine. I shifted in my seat uneasily, squirmed, blocking off any thoughts before I might panic for real, because I was close, very
close. My insides were boiling. I felt feverish. My hands were twitching, and I quickly directed my attention back at the man behind the lectern, concentrating, wanting to get some order into the chaos in my head.
“I learnt that luckily, those of you who had thought I would be giving the lecture already last week, were informed while waiting here so you didn’t totally waste your time, doing nothing, and instead were enabled go home to do … sensible things like… study diligently”, he winked, and some of the students laughed.
That was too much. That just couldn’t be it. “There heck well was a lecture last week!”, I protested, more to myself and the immediate rows around me, too shocked to call out loud, but turning around to my fellow students, as if to get them to agree with me and tell the professor, whoever he really was, that this was a mistake. Some blunder that must have happened during making the timetables, some mix-up… He surely wasn’t in the right auditorium or something.
My protest met blank, unblinking faces that stared down at me. “Wha?”
“There… the lecture. Last week.”
A girl shook her head, said something, then she and the others looked away from me as if I’d said something terribly boring and out of time and place. She looked down at the prof, then at me again, wrinkling her nose in a curious way and moved her mouth, saying something.
I closed my mouth. Opened it. Closed it again. Unable to think anything… at all. Things slowly, but securely, started to black out…
What she had said was:
“I actually checked the auditorium after I got the note, just when that lecture would have been about to start, ya know. But there was no lecture. The room was totally empty.”, and punctuated with a brushing motion of her hand. “Totally.”
Does anyone have an idea what Mitsudou had mouthed to Ruki in the auditorium? Take your guesses… now. Aw, I really love college for sometimes being inspiring to … that extent. I’m slightly biased now, though xD I’ll probably grin at my prof next Monday for ‘no reason at all’, all the time *laughs*
Ne I know it was long o-o Please comment though. I’d like to know what you thought. <3
I forgot to mention why it's called Honey Lips II ~ Just like my first fic, there originally were two versions of it. This is the second, hence 'II'.Fanfiction Archive