New Lesson

I awoke quickly, anxiety raced through my body and a cold sweat pricked my skin. I didn't know why I woke up, but my body knew something was wrong. I looked around the darkness and swallowed heavily. There was nothing in the void that stared back at me, but I felt watched by something invisible in the deepness of the night.

The worst part of living alone was always being alone, especially when you hear a noise in the middle of the night. Even if I were the one to investigate, knowing you're not alone is better than knowing no one could hear you scream. I thought about calling Luca. I liked him for the same reason I would want him here. He's big, intimidating, strong, and could beat the shit out of the average man.

I still haven't called him; however, the paper trail of my affections made my heart pound harder than any noise downstairs. If I could call him, use that number that I wanted for so long, I don't know what I would say. I wanted to ask how his night went with the boys, but I didn't. I wanted to ask him the next day if he was hungover, but I didn't. I wanted to message him to visit me, and I didn't. Instead, I wanked in the shower, and imagined it was his lips rather than my overused hand.

I moved back down to bed, the images of Luca calmed me. I hated the effect he had on me; I felt like a fool, but I couldn't help myself. It's like he lived under my skin, reworked all of my neurons, only to have his image flash behind my eyes with every blink. I couldn't move from my place at his feet; the chains to his altar were self-inflicted, and I threw away the key.

The banging from downstairs erupted through the air, and pulled me away from the pity party I was having alone in bed, daydreaming about my student. It was angry and fiery, and very much a man rather than a monster under my bed or a ghost in the closet. I crawled out of bed sluggishly and pulled my glasses onto my nose, hoping to a God I didn't believe in that it wasn't a policeman or fireman that wanted me to leave the house.

I walked down the stairs and looked out of the peephole to see an older man stood with his arms crossed in annoyance. I rolled my eyes and opened the door only slightly to hide the fact that I was only in boxers and a large band t-shirt.

"Can I help you, sir?" I asked, my voice graved and deep from being woken up.

"Your boyfriend doesn't have enough to cover his fair-" He started, his words confused me until I saw him running from the car to the house.

Luca skipped from the old car to the house happily and clearly very drunk as he almost face planted into the flowers as he stopped in front of the door. "You're awake!"

I sighed and reached into my coat pocket for my wallet. "He's not my boyfriend," I muttered, and handed over a handful of coins and notes in annoyance.

"I couldn't give a fuck what you do." He muttered, taking the cash and walked back to his car.

"What are you doing here? You can't just turn up here, you know?" I asked with a hiss, making sure none of my neighbours saw the bumbling, drunk young man that came to my house.

"Why did you say it like that?" He asked, his beautiful face flushed and upset like a kicked puppy. "He's not my boyfriend." He croaked, mocking my voice as he pushed his way into the house with a hand.

I didn't have the power to stop him; instead, I locked the door behind us and followed him into the living room, flicking the switch when he didn't to light the room. He was slumped on the sofa, his clothes crinkled, and the scent of a frat party emanated from him. His hair was a mess, and the usually dominant and intimidating man was swaying as he sat.

"Luca, what are you doi-" He cut me off by looking up to me with those beautiful eyes, shining with more emotion than I had ever seen before.

"Why didn't you ca-" He stopped himself, his open and emotional gaze hardened into a look of anger and disgust. "Who's top is that?" His voice was deep, a growl of jealousy and fury escaped his chest.

"An ex's, Luca. Why does it matter?" I didn't understand why it mattered; it's not like we were ever going to be in a relationship. I was a fuck toy who was catching emotions, not that he cared.

"Is he here?" He asked firmly. He got up too quickly and made me flinch away.

I shook my head in disbelief and sighed at his behaviour. I couldn't believe him - Only he was allowed to ruin my life, apparently. I didn't give him words; I wasn't about to explain a t-shirt to a drunk student who shouldn't even be here.

I saw he wasn't there before I understood he ran upstairs. I followed to see him opening doors angrily until he got to the bedroom. I couldn't stop him when he was calm, angry; he was a machine that could snap me in half. He ran to the bed and pulled at the duvet to ensure there was no one hiding under the cover before he faced me.

With a panted breath, he attempted to calm down as he saw me standing awkwardly and worried against the wall. He walked close to me, holding my face in his large, hot hands. It was almost affectionate, and I soaked in the touch like a touch-starved stray. He very readily gave me a dominant touch, brushing me off quickly, but this felt different, and if he was sober, then I would enjoy a percentage more.

The large, heavy arms wrapped around me and forced me into a hug. My face was smashed against his hard chest, his heart thumped hard in his chest, and I held him back to help him calm down. I wondered what he would do if I did have a man in my bed. I pushed it aside, worried about how graphic my imagination could be.

I hate myself for how much I liked the jealousy, even though I shouldn't. It felt nice to be wanted, even if it was only when he was drunk and handsy. He pushed me back against the wall harshly before throwing me over his shoulder and threw me onto the bed.

He pulled at the t-shirt, and I tried to push him away, annoyed with the way he treated me when he was drunk and I was half asleep. "Luca, please." I whined in the back of my throat pathetically.

The loud rip of the fabric cut through my whine and made me gasp at how he pulled it from my body in two pieces. "No!" He shouted, and I lay back down in submission. "You don't get to wear someone else's clothes. Mine."

The younger man shrugged off his leather jacket and pulled his top off, forcing the ripped fabric away and pushed my head through the hole. I aided his drunken hands to put his top on. It was warm and smelt like Luca, a mixture of sweat and aftershave with a hint of chlorine. It pooled on my lap, larger than the top from Bryan that I kept without a thought.

"If you want fucking clothes, have mine. Is that what you want? Is that what will make you call me?" He asked, his anger shattered into his true intentions.

My heart ached with his words. He WANTED me to call him. He wanted ME. I almost couldn't breathe. The toxic show of yearning made my blood hot, my cock ache, but most importantly, made me feel wanted. Yes, I was a pathetically lonely man, but it was beautiful to me. Any thoughts of having a career flew from my mind, I didn't care anymore as he stood in front of me with only his jeans hanging low on his hips with a peak of his boxers underneath.

I slipped onto my knees, kissed and licked the V of his hips as my hands pulled at the belt that kept his torn jeans up. A hand slipped into my hair, nails scratching my scalp like a pat on the head, a show that I was being 'good'. I pulled his boxers and jeans to his strong, muscle-tensed thighs. I grasped his hardening cock in my palm, kissing up the hardness and breathing in his scent. He smelt beautiful, musky and masculine, more than I'd ever be. I could be lost in his body and scent like I was made to worship him.

I licked the cloth of his boxers, suckling on the head of his growing cock before I felt a hot slap to my face. "Stop teasing me. Get on with it. Show me what the other men like." He mocked as he pushed my face into his cock to find friction against my cheek.

"There are no other men, just you, Luca." It was true, but it seemed to light a fire I didn't know he held back from lighting.

With his strength, he picked me up tightly and threw me on the bed and ripped my boxers from my body like they offended him. He dropped to his knees and pulled my cheeks apart, gripping the flesh with hard and strong hands. When I wasn't looking, he lapped at my hole, my weakness. My hands immediately gripped his hair tightly, my back ached and my whimpers were even more pathetic.

The muscle pushed into my waiting, sensitive hole which pulled a gasp out of me. A finger followed his tongue in my hole, pushing too deep, too quickly. The slight stretch was nice, his thick finger made my cock weep on my stomach. A delightful, burning arousal was quickly pulled from me as he pulled away and rummaged through my drawers.

He found the lube in record time, lubing three fingers before they traced my sensitive entrance. "Tell me how much you want it, slut." He growled, the bass raced up my spine.

"I want it so bad, Luca, please. You always make me feel so good." I whimpered, sat up on my forearms to see him in the darkness.

His eyes fixed on my body, watching every twitch and movement of my stomach and limbs. His eyes were almost black with lust and anger, a combination I couldn't fight or give up. He was beautiful, handsome and yet his eyes looked so broken.

Without warning, two fingers forced themselves into me. "If you don't relax, it will hurt more. Either way, I'm still fucking you." He whispered before he sunk his teeth into the flesh of my thigh. I had always liked his naturally straight, white teeth, but now his teeth were deep in my skin, I shouted loudly.

"Fuck! Luca!" My legs shaking from his teeth and torture.

The pleasure of my prostate being pounded soon dulled the pain as his fingers pushed and pulled in my hole. He lapped at his teeth marks, finger fucked me too fast, too harsh, my orgasm raced through my body with ever having to touch my twitching, begging red cock.

Another finger forced its way into my tight hole, the stretch made me dizzy with lust. With three fingers pounding into my body, I whined as he crawled up my body and used his spare hand to pull my hair so we were face to face.

His hand never stopped, he spoke softly, noses bumped against each other with each thrust. "No one else can make you feel like this, can they?"

My jaw lazed and I shook my head to tell the truth. He was right, no one could make me feel so disgusting, used and worshipped all at the same time. He owned me, I just wanted him to say it.

"No one else is allowed to touch you, you hear me? You're mine now." He demanded and I nodded dumbly, fuck drunk.

The laugh that came from his chest made me whine in embarrassment. "I can't blame a slut like you, you just need a good hand to keep you in check."

He pushed his t-shirt up my body, but not taking it off, to lap at my nipple to give me a false sense of security before biting into the pink nub. I groaned at the pain but pushed my chest back into his mouth when he went back to lap and kissed my chest and collarbone. Like a dog, he wrapped his teeth around the bone until the skin stained a pearly purple colour.

I could hear the vile sound of lube squelching as he forced his fingers to bend and fuck into my prostate. My back arched and I reached for his face, I wanted to feel his lips against mine as I came. He pulled his face away and then his fingers, leaving my aching hole empty and tensed around nothing.

"No, Luca, no. Please, I was so close." I sobbed, throwing my head in annoyance. My body burnt with ecstasy, my brain leaked out of my cock, and I could have cried with the need for release.

"It's not nice to be left, is it?" I shook my head, leant up on my forearms again to see him standing and enjoying his handy work.

"I was going to call you." I promised, my orgasm dulling and pulling away from me. I needed him.

"No you weren't" he chuckled darkly, and while it was true, I shook my head. "I will show you why you should have."

He grabbed my calf and forced me to flip, the touch of the fabric felt rough against my oversensitive cock. Large hands pulled my hands against my back, he held my hands tightly against my back with only a giant palm as his other hand guided his giant cock head against my hole.

The head slipped into my abused hole, even after three fingers, I moaned at the pull of my hole to accommodate his size. The head popped into my hole as he sighed in pleasure.

"Who's the best you've ever had, slut?" He asked with a jealous tone.

"You! Luca, fuck. No one has ever made me feel like this before." It's true, I'd had partners who tried to make me feel this good, but they failed so often I didn't see it possible.

The luxurious slide into my body filled me entirely, he made me feel so full that I was worried he would damage a lung. A spare hand pulled my head up to arch my back like a cat in heat. He didn't let me become accustomed to his length, this wasn't about me, this was about him.

The pounding was violent and harsh, hard and fast enough to make me sob. He released my hair to hold my head up by gripping my throat and held my jaw up. He wouldn't let me hide in the mattress, I had to have my head up and fully exposed.

Every push grazed my prostate like it was magnetised, forced to pound against my most sensitive bundle of nerves. My mind had gone, if he was speaking then I wasn't listening. My breath was stolen from me from his hand, and my body vibrated with need.

It was perfect, my body had released my brain from the reins and forced me to attempt to move back onto his cock. He chuckled as I struggled for more.

"You really love this cock, huh?" He let go of my hands and head, and I fell onto the bed with a puddle of precum at my knees.

"Such a whore. Begging from cock from your student, not even your morals could make you stop from getting cock. It's all that's in that cock drunk skull of yours. Is that how you got your PhD? Using your hole?" If I wasn't so close, so filled with his cock, then I might have taken offence. Instead, I loved it. I was a morally corrupt professor who couldn't prioritise my values over such a beautiful boy.

With a hard hand on my head, he forced me into the mattress, using it as leverage to push into my hole faster to chase his own orgasm. His thrusts were short and hard, his hips slammed against my ass with a clap.

With a thought, I reached up, holding onto his fingers on my head. I need to hold him, touch him in my sobbing whimpers as my orgasm ripped through me like a burning burst of lightning. My body turned to shaking jelly, my mouth silently screamed as the golden bliss took over my body.

My body felt like I was floating, my brain swam in a blissful pool of dopamine. My clenching hole sucked the cum from him, and I heard his groan as I felt my inside painted with his cum. I loved feeling his cock twitch and coat my insides, it felt like our bodies wanted to connect and become one.

We paused to take a breath, even with a heavy hand on my head. When he pulled away, his heavy warmth left me cold and shivering as my body missed him. I tricked myself into thinking he was moving my body to believe he was going to cuddle me, but instead he pulled my hips up and off the bed.

My body was lax, I couldn't fight him as he kneeled in front of me with my thighs on his broad, muscular shoulders. He dipped his tongue back into my sore hole, and my hands quickly attempted to push him away. He caught my hands in his as he continued to lap and kiss my sore, red raw hole.

"No, Luca, please! Hold me, please." I whimpered, scratching his arms and scalp as a deterrent.

It wasn't the nails that stopped him, even if I saw the marks on his skin, it was my words. He put me back on the bed, pulling my top down and laying beside me.

He cuddled me. He held me in his arms like he was scared I would vanish in thin air, but I couldn't imagine leaving such a blissful feeling of security and safety. I traced the red marks I had created, I liked knowing I marked him. I would talk to him tomorrow, when he was more ready to talk. But for that moment, I allowed the arms around me to lull me into sweet dreams of Luca.