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Headmaster Turner

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Aidan clears his throat again, nervously tugging at his shirt collar. It's not too tight, not exactly, and he opted to go with a heather grey v-neck sweater atop a navy button-down in lieu of a more formal necktie. It's just... it's the situation that's uncomfortable. His blue trousers are neatly pressed, his hair is short enough that with sufficient gel he can keep it out of his face. He sits at a massive oak desk scattered with thick textbooks and stray pages. Certainly, he looks the part. But what the fuck is he supposed to do while he waits for his lover to arrive -- grade papers?

Blowing out a breath, he tidies up the surface of the desk, making neat stacks and pushing them to the far corners.

Jamie's trip to his mother's house went smoothly, but he did end up having to smuggle his old uniform out beneath a lot of cassettes he'd claimed to come for, and some food his mother had insisted he take, all of which got left in the boot of his car. Jamie takes his uniform inside and changes in one of the several rooms designed for just this purpose -- members who don't want to wear their fetish gear outside these walls. Navy slacks, white dress shirt, white undershirt, navy tie with a small insignia of the school near the bottom. The whole thing is better pressed than it ever would have been when he actually wore it, so to compensate he leaves the shirt mostly untucked, the tie half an inch loose and the knot a bit sloppy. Eyeing the blazer, he shakes his head, "Never again, Headmaster Selinger."

He scoops the garment up in his arm and heads to the proper room. After a knock and a brief pause, he lets himself in. It takes work to keep his jaw from dropping, but he's sure the heat in his chest is displaying itself on his face. Jamie swallows thickly, forces himself not to break character, and gives a crooked, up-to-no-good smile.

Aidan's been wondering how to play this, who precisely his character would be, how he's "supposed" to act and react. But the second he sees Jamie, all the pieces simply slide into place. "Mr. Bower," he says with a soft sigh, and leans back in his desk chair, one dark eyebrow raised. "You're smirking. Making trouble today?"

"Everyday." Jamie shrugs and closes most of the distance between them, stopping just a foot from the opposite side of the desk as Aidan. "Apparently I've gotten one D too many for my parents' level of tolerance, so I'm supposed to come in here and ask you what I can do to bring my grade up." He doesn't even care how cliche this is turning out, he's too busy imagining Aidan fucking him while nearly fully clothed. He clears his throat and continues, "I think it's a useless task because even if you do give me an extra-credit paper, I'll just do D-level work on that one too, but I have to at least be able to say I tried, yeah?"

For a moment Aidan simply regards him in skeptical silence. It's clear they have danced this duet many times before. "I'm curious as to your motivations. If you do manage to graduate before you're thrown out, what do you intend to do to support yourself?"

"Music," Jamie shrugs again, more out of nonchalance this time. "Plus there's a modeling agency in London just waiting for me to either graduate or drop out." He licks his lips and meets Aidan's gaze boldly. "Plus, guys who look like I do can always find a way, if they're willing."

There's that. Teachers talk, just like anyone else in the workplace, and mentions of which students look most likely are unprofessionally frequent. Jamie's name comes up quite a lot in the professors' lounge, not only due to his poor behavior. Aidan clears his throat again, his face heating. "I'm not unaware that you, ah, ingratiated yourself with Professor Stanfield recently," he says. "One day he was firing up to petition for your expulsion. But now..."

He raises an eyebrow, passive expression turning to a smirk. Interesting how news travels. "Now he realizes that intelligence comes in many forms, and I'm quite gifted in my own way. Not all of us are blessed with an academic inclination, and once we took the time to talk it out, he came to appreciate me."

"I'm not interested in talking with you." Lie. "But since you can't be trusted, as you thoughtfully pointed out, to complete quality work on your own, you'll simply have to stay here until you manage it." Aidan points with his pen to one end of his long desk. "Pull up a chair," he swiftly scribbles some vaguely mathematical-looking figures on a piece of blank paper, "and solve that. I have nowhere to be this evening, and you now have nowhere to be but here."

Maths? Ugh, why'd you have to be a maths teacher? I suck at this subject. "An assignment? Haven't we just been over that this isn't where my talents lie?"

"Your, ahem, 'talents' don't interest me, Mr. Bower. If you want to pass my class, then you'll put in the effort." Aidan points again. "Sit."

With a roll of his eyes and a small huff, Jamie takes a seat and pulls the equation in front of him. He toys with the titanium ball of his tongue stud between his lips as he looks it over.

Christ. It's a wonder to Aidan how no one has paddled the petulance right out of Jamie before now. His attention is drawn to the shiny stud on display, and he quickly returns his gaze to his... desk. Grabs a book and leafs through it aimlessly.

"Doesn't it get tedious?" Jamie picks up the pen and toys with the end of that between his lips now. It's well past time for his smoke break, apparently. "Making students do all this boring shit they have no interest in?"

"Yep. I'm a bad bad man," Aidan replies, flattering himself that his tone of voice sounds wholly disinterested. Of course, that carefully-cultivated air is destroyed in the next instant when he asks, "Doesn't it get tedious to wallow through the same struggles with your teachers, day after day? Surely there are much better things you could be doing right now."

"Yeah, there are," He drags teeth over his lower lip, holding Aidan's gaze, eyes hungry and confident. "But with a little persistence, some patience, I'll be getting to what I want in no time."

Aidan stares into his eyes, the depths enticing him, and he's surprised to find himself yearning. This kid really is dangerous. "It's a waste of your time flirting with me," he says, his tone quiet and even. "You're a clever boy. I'd have thought you'd figured that out already."

"Well, like I said, patience and persistence." He loosens his tie, baring his collar bone a little more. Jamie looks down at the paper, focusing for all of thirty seconds, and then back to Aidan. "You know, an incentive system might work better."

Aidan is actually relieved by the cheek; the silence was making him nervous. Especially when he can smell Jamie, tantalizing light scent on the air. "An incentive system," he scoffs, leaning back in his chair once more. "Pray, do tell. What could you actually want from me? That you can have."

"That I can have?" he echoes. "Have we not established that with the right attitude I can have anything?" Leaning over the desk, arms folded on the flat surface, he licks his lips again. "I really don't understand your reluctance, Mr. Turner."

"My reluctance, as you call it, is because I have a girlfriend. Because I'm straight, Mr. Bower. You seem to be having some difficulty grasping that reality," Aidan mirrors his posture so they're only inches apart. But what he says next is a far cry from his protestations. "If this is the best evidence of your skills at coming on to men, I have to say I'm unimpressed."

"Straight?" He arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. "The only straight men I know just haven't yet learned what a guy like me can accomplish -- how little it really matters when we're talking about lips and teeth and tongue," each word with its own emphasis.

Cued, Aidan drops his gaze to Jamie's mouth, and he swallows hard. Then he shakes his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "And if I'd prefer a different sort of incentive?"

Tilting his head, Jamie considers that. "Okay, I'm interested. What do you have in mind, Mr. Turner? I can save my counter-offer for the moment."

Aidan sits back, slowly running his eyes over Jamie's body, top to toe and back again. "Wank."

"Excuse me?" Jamie's brows are all furrowed and indignant, but the corners of his lips are turned up faintly, amused and loving where Aidan's going with this.

"Please, Mr. Bower, are you really going to pretend that you don't love the attention? I've watched you in class. It's not only my interest you're trying to catch, you want everyone's. We're past this," Aidan declares with a wave of his hand, then gestures towards the equation waitingto be solved. "It's your choice."

He glances down at the paper with distaste, and then back to Aidan. "What happened to being 'straight'?" Air quotes included.

"I'm not telling you to touch me," Aidan says, a smile lurking on his lips. He's certainly settling in for a comfortable wait, stretching out his long legs to cross at the ankles, his arms folded across his chest. "But I like a good show as much as anyone." He holds up a finger. "Trousers off first."

"You're straight and you just wanna watch?" Shrugging, he leans back and takes his belt in hand, watching Aidan's expression carefully.

Of course that one simple movement draws Aidan's attention like a magnet, and he nods at Jamie to keep going. "You can even pretend that I'm watching you, if you'd like. Just like you do at night, all alone in your bed."

That brings Aidan just a tad too much into the 'authority figure' category, and he can't help but push right back. He takes his hands from his belt and leans on the desk again. He's challenging now, turning the tables on their power dynamic. "Or, I could just say I did. To anyone who wants to listen."

Interesting. Aidan hadn't expected that, not this late in the game. "True. But then when I throw Professor Stanfield under the bus, your word will be worth absolutely nothing, and you'll lose your sweet deal in history class."

"Or it'll just prove the professors at this school have a habit of taking advantage of their students." Despite his attitude, he slips a hand between his legs and palms himself, still watching Aidan. "God, who knew I'd have to resort to such threats just to blow the hot teacher. You do know that's what I'm after, right? Just wanna know what you feel like between my lips."

"And I want to see you jacking your cock," Aidan challenges in turn. "If you please me, then maybe I'll reward you with mine."

"Maybe?" Jamie smirks, cocky. "Yeah, yeah I think that'll work. Patience and persistence." He leans back again and actually opens his belt and trousers this time.

There goes that eyebrow again. Aidan looks at him in impatient expectation. "Are you waiting for me to say please?"

And now the authority comes as a turn-on. Jamie's a complex creature and he would never claim otherwise. He frees himself from his pants and, to no one's surprise, he's already fairly hard. He looks up at Aidan, cheeks faintly pink, as he begins to stroke himself, languidly at first.

Aidan's mouth goes dry. It's been months since they began dating, and he's certainly accustomed now to seeing Jamie's prick, if not touching it. But when he's himself, his attention isn't quite so riveted as by the complete package, as it were. Now, though, he watches as Jamie's cock swells more, his eyes avid and intent. "Keep going."

His breath picks up as he grips himself harder, strokes faster. He can't look at Aidan anymore -- for an exhibitionist, he sure can be shy -- but he doesn't even think about stopping, and just knowing there are eyes on him goes a long way. With his other hand he loosens his tie more, unbuttons another button to get a bit more air to his flushed chest.

Getting to his feet, Aidan slowly circles the desk. He steps behind Jamie, their two bodies nearly touching, and reaches around to undo the rest of his buttons. Hot flesh pebbles beneath his palms when he splays his hands over Jamie's chest. "You really are the little slut they say you are."

"Only shame in that word if you let there be," Jamie retorts, voice quiet and unfocused. He relaxes against his chair, under Aidan's hands. "I prefer to say that I stay true to my passions."

"Your passion is being the school bicycle?" Aidan slides his hands down to Jamie's hips.

His back arches a bit as Aidan's hands slide down his body, and his face grows hotter. "What can I say, I just love love." He flashes a grin, knowing damn well he's full of shit with that.

"Yeah." Aidan's lips quirk wistfully for an instant, then it's a stone hard exterior once more. "You think about me."

"Of course I do. I didn't come here on a fucking whim," Jamie can feel himself starting to get close, and he gives a soft whine as he forces his hand to slow. "Come on, Mr. Turner, I swear you won't regret it. I want you, and I'm damn good."

"Ask me again." If only to hear those pleading words in that roughly seductive voice once more.

Jamie looks up at his teacher, face hot and breath heavy and a pathetic kind of want in his eyes. "Please, Mr. Turner. I want you to fuck my throat."

Aidan nods, slowly. He's pretty sure his heart just stopped. Stepping back, he gestures at his zipper. "Go ahead."

He gets up so that he can get to his knees in front of Aidan, and makes quick work of getting his trousers open and freeing his cock. "You won't regret it, I swear."

"I'd better not. Not with the way you lick your lips at me in class."

Looking up at Aidan with big eyes, Jamie sticks his tongue out, that ball shining brightly in the overhead lights, and laps up the underside of Aidan's cock before plunging onto it properly.

Aidan's breath rushes out of him like he's just been punched in the gut. He splays his hands on the desk behind him, leaning against its solid weight. Everything about this is wrong: the room, the floor, the young man on his knees. God help him, it feels fucking amazing.

He grabs Aidan by the hips as he bobs on his length, taking him as deep as he can and using pressure with his tongue every time he comes back up. Jamie makes soft, needy noises every time he gets enough air to, and glances up at his teacher with growing want.

"That's good." There's an understatement. But, a hint of memory teases at Aidan's brain, something Jamie said yesterday, something about deep-throating... "Stop. Get on the desk." He shoves a stack of books to the floor.

Jamie flashes an excited, gleeful smile, but suppresses it as quickly as he can to stay in character. With a smooth motion, he subtly tucks himself back into his trousers as he stands. Shrugging, he hops up to sit on the edge of the desk, as if he has no idea where Aidan is going with this.

"Lie back," Aidan orders, slowly stroking himself. "You're going to take me all the way in."

Jamie smirks with a subdued but burning pride and does as he's told, getting on his back and letting his head hang off the edge of the desk to create a mostly smooth line from mouth to throat. He's already straining against his slacks so much it hurts, but that's just another sign of how bad he wants this.

Aidan isn't entirely certain about the mechanics of this; he thinks he perhaps saw it once in a movie. But he trusts Jamie to guide him. He steps closer and guides himself into his lover's mouth, grabs the edge of the desk and gently nudges deeper.

It's been a while, but thankfully his body still remembers how to do this. He draws in a breath as Aidan makes it impossible to breathe, and focuses on staying relaxed and pliant despite his brain urging him to panic at being cut off from air. Jamie takes Aidan by the hips to show him how long he can take it, and how long he has to give him to catch another breath, guiding him out and back in a few times before releasing him.

Aidan isn't entirely certain about the mechanics of this; he thinks he perhaps saw it once in a movie. But he trusts Jamie to guide him. He steps closer and guides himself into his lover's mouth, grabs the edge of the desk and gently nudges deeper.

It's easy to fall into the rhythm, and the pleasure is overwhelming. Hell, the sight of Jamie - stretched and decadent and wet-lipped - is overwhelming all on its own. Aidan's irresistibly drawn to brush his fingers over one pierced nipple, and again, then tugging on it with his finger.

This plays on so many of Jamie's kinks in so many exquisite ways, and he can hardly get enough. It takes very little time before he can feel himself settle into headspace and the kind of subdued high that comes with it. He simply accepts Aidan deep into him without thought or reflex. Use me, he would beg, if he were capable of begging right now.

Aidan's fingertips curl and dig into Jamie's flesh -- like it'll keep him grounded. He can't waste the time to unbutton, so he rips his shirt open the rest of the way, thrusting smoothly and playing once more with his boyfriend's nipple rings.

Jamie pulls one hand off of Aidan entirely and trails it over his abdomen, slowly snaking downward until he can rub over the insistent, rock-hard bulge in his trousers. With his other hand, he grabs Aidan firmly by the hip again and starts encouraging him to go faster, harder, showing him that he can take more.

"Pretty whore," Aidan whispers, and yanks sharply on a shiny titanium ring.

Jamie's hips buck involuntarily at the pull, seeking friction or warmth or anything, because fuck, he's painfully hard and desperately turned on and his body is demanding relief. But Aidan is using him right now, and he loves it far too much to let himself be impatient.

Abruptly Aidan pulls his cock out of Jamie's mouth. He leans down, eyes intent. "How many? How many teachers' cocks have you sucked?"

He coughs by reflex and drags in a deep breath, the first he's gotten in minutes, before meeting Aidan's eyes. He's wearing a well-practice look of vulnerability as he stutters out, "Uhm, ah, t-two? Now."

It's a much smaller answer than Aidan was expecting. "Two. And do you think you deserve to have me come on your face?"

"I, um, I was hoping for down my throat. Choking me on your cock for just a little too long as you blow your load inside of me." His filthy words are an interesting contrast to the shy innocence on his face. "Please?"

"I didn't ask what you were hoping for. I asked what you deserve." Aidan grasps his erection and swiftly beats off, spraying hot on the polished surface of the desk. "Now lick it up, slut, every drop."

The denial makes him whimper, and he watches helplessly as boyfriend - er, teacher - makes a mess of the desk. He's pretty sure Jamie the Student would be a brat about it, but being throat fucked and degraded breaks him of that inclination entirely when it comes to Aidan. Jamie sits up enough to get a good angle and laps all of it up, blushing and ashamed and still definitely loving it. When he's finished he looks back up at Aidan for whatever will come next, but avoids his gaze.

"Good boy." Jesus, the rush the sight gives Aidan is damn near electric. He grips the loose knot of Jamie's tie and pulls him to a stand. Wraps his fingers around his lover's cock and starts to stroke, hard and fast and demanding. "Come for me, slut."

Jamie grips Aidan by the shoulders as he's forced close, and gasps at the first contact. "Fuck, fuck, Mr. Turner, oh God," he pants, hips rocking into Aidan's hand. His grip tightens the closer he gets and his stance gets more and more rigid. His thighs shake with how close he is, how bad he needs this right before he finally comes, crying out and making a complete mess of his clothes and his boyfriend's hand. Jamie continues to hold on to Aidan for stability, legs weak, body exhausted and brain flooded with pleasure and relief and still more than a little cortisol.

Smirking just a little, Aidan tugs on Jamie's tie until he's close enough to whisper in his ear. "Mr. Bower, you're a filthy mess." Apparently, however, that's no deterrent at the end of a scene, as Aidan's next move is to kiss his lover thoroughly.

Jamie grins at Aidan's teasing and then moans into the kiss, pushing against his boyfriend and properly wrapping arms loosely around his neck now. His kiss is still hot and wanting, his body spent but his mind buzzing.

"Do you want to shower now? Or lie down with me first?" Aidan asks him with a grin. God, it feels so damn good simply to hold Jamie like this, wet spots and all.

"Mnn, can I make you decide?" Jamie pulls back enough to look his lover in the eyes and laughs gently at himself. "I'm, uh, not sure I'm 100% here. Getting fucked like that..."

"A lie-down it is." Getting an arm around Jamie's shoulders, Aidan leads him through a door to the next room, where a huge luxurious bed awaits them. "Let's get you naked," he says, already working towards that goal. "Shoes. Now lie back and I'll fetch some wet cloths."

Jamie strips down entirely, although he's reluctant to stop touching Aidan. He climbs into the bed and settles in on his back, a little upright against the headboard. "Don't take long, please." His voice is a bit quieter than usual.

"I won't, my love." Touched, Aidan strokes Jamie's hair back and kisses his forehead. He's less than a minute in the bathroom, then returns with an armful of towels and stretches out next to his boyfriend, their thighs touching. With a warm wet cloth he swabs come from Jamie's skin, drawing out the simple necessity into a caress.

He can feel his body relaxing, and not just from fatigue. Jamie sets a hand on his boyfriend's leg as he's cleaned up and as soon as he's finished, he rotates and leans in to kiss Aidan, again and again.

"You're my favorite," Aidan whispers, slipping his arms around his boyfriend in case there's any danger of him pulling away.

"You're my favorite, too. Definitely." Jamie smiles against his lips and then kisses him once more before pulling away only barely enough to speak to each other properly. "Was it everything you hoped it would be?"

Aidan huffs a soft laugh. "You always are, Jamie."

He rolls his eyes, but it's definitely an endearing thing to hear. "I feel like you're sidestepping my question."

"Huh? Oh. Yes," Aidan insists with a laugh. "Yes. Sorry if I, um. If I couldn't let you take the lead like we'd planned. I don't know what happened, it just did."

Smiling warmly, Jamie nods, "I had noticed that, yeah." He trails a finger down Aidan's bare chest, thinking on it a second. "Maybe there's a more controlling Dom in there than you think."

Aidan gnaws on his bottom lip, gathering his courage before he asks, "Are you disappointed?" Sure, Jamie's smiling, but that doesn't necessarily mean the same thing.

He shakes his head. "No, not at all. I got both of the things I wanted most, plus an excuse to try again with a different set up. I'm very happy."

A bit bemused, Aidan considers. "I think I know what one of the things was that you wanted most. What was the other? Your deep-throating skills are mindblowing, by the way."

That makes him grin. It's not an easy feat, not nearly as easy as porn makes it look. "The other thing was getting to know you more and deeper. Which, I suppose role playing might not seem like the way to accomplish that, but it definitely worked out."

"Heh, right. You mean how I kicked going down?"

"Mhm, the way you refused to give up control or be the one being taken advantage of, and how easily 'slut' and 'whore' roll off your tongue when you're suitably worked up." Jamie is definitely saying all of these as if it's a good thing. "And um... And I got to see how well you're acclimating to getting me off."

Aidan props his chin in his hand and studies his lover. "I do really like getting you off. Even if it still feels weird sometimes. Today it didn't, though," he rushes to add.

"It's okay that it still feels weird sometimes. You've got a long habit of sex being one way, and now it's different, and I kinda think you don't handle change well in general," he admits.

"What?" Aidan's discomfited. "What makes you say that? I didn't know that." It's always uncomfortable to learn that someone who knows him really well sees him from a very different perspective.

"I love you and none of the things I'm going to say is a problem that I have with you, not at all. But, if we're having real, serious talk right now... Your hang-up about your sexuality, largely. You had this idea in your head that sex with a man just isn't something you do, but it is now, and you've spent a long time progressively adjusting to what that means. Maybe it's more complex than that, I have a hard time seeing from the perspective of someone who cares about the physical configuration of sex, but it seems like a difficulty with change of your long-built habits, of learning to do things in a new way, and your idea of who you are."

"Hey, a lot of people have trouble with new things, period," Aidan replies, stung but not entirely sure why. "I thought I was doing okay." Christ, so Jamie doesn't have a clue how difficult it's been for him. Great to know. "A lot of people fall in love with people they'd never consider as a mate. It's huge that I took that risk."

"Of course it is." Jamie furrows his brow. "Do you think I'm criticizing you? I swear I'm not, not at all. Having a difficult time with change, any kind of change, isn't a bad thing. And I'm constantly grateful that you're with me despite it all. When you even look at me like you love me, it's a rush. I don't mean to minimize that."

"It's not despite anything, it's not like that," Aidan grumps, lying back down. But he's aware of what an idiot he's being, and so he tugs Jamie by his hair for a kiss.

Jamie's relieved that Aidan seems to be relaxing a little and he returns the kiss with a subdued enthusiasm. When he pulls back, Jamie asks carefully, "So, you love every part of me?

Aidan's eyes widen slightly. "Do you have to ask that? Do I make you feel like I don't?"

With a nonchalant shrug, he answers. "What if I just wanna hear you say it?"

Fuck. Aidan doesn't want to answer this question, not at all; but he's trying really hard not to lie this time. Not like all the other times. "I love... almost every part of you," he sighs, "and every day I grow fonder of the other bits."

The honesty makes him smile. "Almost is pretty damn good. You might love more of me than I do, so that's definitely good. In an odd way, it's refreshing that you don't."

Aidan stacks his hands beneath his head and regards his lover in bemusement. "Every now and again, I can't figure out your logic at all. But I'm crazy about you."

Jamie shrugs, "It's unreasonable for someone to love absolutely everything about someone else. But I am loved by you, a whole hell of a lot, and that's pretty amazing."