Work Text:
The intoxicating scent of coffee and bacon smells far too good to be anything but a dream.
Granted, breakfast in bed ranks a little low on her list of Drowsy Delights, compared to the usual fare of book deals and fairytale weddings, and the occasional awkwardness of being caught in class without her clothes on. But as far as Tanya is concerned, a meal is a meal. And as far as her stomach is concerned, 7:04AM is never too early for a stack of pancakes and a heaping cup of joe.
Groggy as the dawn, she slinks out from under the covers and reaches to pick her pajamas off of the floor, where they tend to end up most nights. It's not her fault she's never been a morning person; she'd stopped getting up early for school ages ago. Besides, it's Sunday. Last she checked, weekends were meant for sleeping in. Or is nothing in this world sacred anymore?
With her shirt clumsily buttoned and her pants pulled on to the best of her ability, Tanya makes her way downstairs and through the antique-filled living room, following the aroma that beckons from within the kitchen.
"Why are you up so early?" She calls out as she crosses the archway. "Didn't we spend half the night—"
The word slips from her stunned lips. "Fuck…"
A grin brighter than the sun turns to shine its light on her, towering above a busy stove. "Good morning," he says. "Hungry?"
No, not anymore. She's famished.
If someone had tried to tell her that this is where she'd end up after high school, Tanya would have laughed them right off campus. But seeing him here in front of her is living proof that dreams do come true.
Things were different then, a little over a year ago, back when he was Mr. Berkman, her Senior History teacher. Now he's Roger, her lover, a man more than old enough to be her father, yet still young enough to fill her up with surprises. But it's not the unexpected breakfast that has her eyes salivating.
He's shirtless. And there's nothing Tanya can do to make her gaze behave.
She swallows, tries to act cool. "What are you doing?"
"Cooking breakfast," Roger replies, as if his naked chest and peach nipples are simply an afterthought. "Scrambled eggs and bacon. You got up just in time to make the toast."
Toast? Tanya would rather they make love while the coffee is still hot. Quick and dirty, but that can't be helped without a bed for them to writhe in. "No, I meant—you, uh—" Don't fuck this up, Tanya. "Did you leave your robe in the wash?"
"Oh. No, I, um—" He turns to scrape the pan, though Tanya can see the dusting of red on his ears, where his blonde hair is pulled back into its neat ponytail. "I remembered something you said once, about how you thought it'd be cute if I cooked dinner in the nude. Well, it's not dinner, and I'm not nude, but…" His cheeks take on that same rosy hue as he casts her a smile. "What do you think?"
She thinks she's going to need a fresh pair of panties if he keeps this up. "I can't believe you actually remembered that," she grins back. "We were—"
"Making eyes at each other over puttanesca?" He finishes.
"I was gonna say using pasta as foreplay." But his description works, too.
"Consider it my compromise for not letting you drink any wine."
"Eh, what's two more years gonna hurt?" Giving a lazy shrug, she strolls over to the counter and leans back against it, basking in the beauty of bare skin and broad shoulders, and a soft belly dusted with a line of fur that leads down below the waistband of his pajama pants. "This is much better, anyway," she purrs. "I get eggs and bacon and the hottest guy on Earth making them for me."
Roger chuckles. "Funny, but I'm far from hot. I think I gained more fat than I burned last night. And there were two more gray hairs on my chest when I woke up this morning." The bacon sizzles over his shame. "I didn't think my fifties would be this cruel."
Tanya frowns. "But I like your dad bod."
"I haven't been a dad since my ex-wife got custody of our son. And that was before you were born."
Does he really need to keep bringing up her age? It had taken long enough for her to get the taste of being called "kiddo" out of her mouth. "Well, I think you're a total snack, and everyone knows my opinion is the only one that matters."
His warm laughter echoes throughout the kitchen. "Alright," he says. "Who am I to argue with that?"
"Breakfast almost ready?"
"Another couple minutes. Could you set the table?"
She could. But little does he know, Tanya's hands have better places to be.
One careful step at a time, she sneaks up behind him and curls her arms around his chest. Roger hums, that low song she's heard so often as they're cuddling in bed together, with his cock leisurely pressed to her ass, and his palms warm where they cradle her breasts. Only now, it's her turn to make him sigh.
Her hand creeps higher, until her fingertips graze a sensitive nipple and begin to move in slow circles. He laughs.
"What are you doing?"
"Whatever I want," Tanya says, with a pinch.
"The eggs will burn."
"Heat them up again."
Her gentle teasing must be too good to resist, because Roger shuts both burners off without protest, twisting his body around in her embrace. He smiles gently, and reaches to brush a deep brown lock behind her ear. "Your hair is a mess."
"Yours never is," Tanya replies. "It's not fair."
"Not true. You've seen how tangled it gets just from lying on my pillow."
She bats her lashes, twirling his ponytail around her finger. "That's 'cause you toss and turn too much. Between my legs."
His cheeks glow a warm red, and Tanya giggles. "You're blushing like—"
"Like you used to every time we had coffee together. When I knew how badly you wanted to kiss me."
"If you knew, then why'd you take so long to do it?"
"Because I loved the way you looked at me," Roger says. "I never wanted to close my eyes."
He does now, as Tanya leans up and presses her lips to his, coaxing them apart so she can taste the coffee on his tongue. He likes it sweet; she's known that from the day at the café, when they smiled at each other over cream puffs and caramel lattes. A flavor he carried back to his place— theirs now—where he opened his heart to her for the first time. Lonely yet beautiful, shy yet incredibly kind. They kissed like the world meant nothing, like they've done every waking minute since then, Tanya's fingers in his hair, and his hands holding her close. As it was always meant to be.
She murmurs a little praise into his mouth and deepens their kiss, forever hungry, wanting more. And Roger is happy to give it to her, with a sigh and a stroke of her cheek, gentle touches that show how much he loves her. His fingers feel warm against her skin, tempting her with memories of nights past, and Tanya would give anything to drag him back to bed, their bodies entwined until Monday morning breaks. But the excitement of finding him here, bashfully exposed, puts other thoughts in her head.
Slowly, she runs a hand down his chest, through graying fur and over soft, supple flesh, fingers tracing the wispy trail that leads to something big and thick and—at the moment—deliciously hard. Roger pushes his hips forward and gives a quiet moan, just as Tanya dips below his waistband to tease the bulge hidden behind his briefs.
"Did you get this excited just from kissing me?" She asks, the words feather-soft against his lips.
He peppers her with kisses. "Why wouldn't I? I'm a—dirty old man—with—a hot young girlfriend."
And yet, she was the one always eyeing him up in class, eager to get home so she could finger herself to the thought of his cock inside her. It's a miracle she managed to wait until after graduation to make her move.
They've got all the time in the world now. And Tanya would sooner die than let a second pass her by.
Walking her hand back upwards, she hooks her fingers under taut elastic, and pulls until his cock springs free.
She'll never forget the night they'd done this—bodies lit by the glow of the TV, clothes slipped off without regard for the antique sofa and its finely-upholstered cushion. His bony fingers curled around hers as he showed her—a clumsy virgin—how to make him come. He was gasping softly then, lashes fluttering with each stroke. Tanya had watched in awe, unable to turn away, though her lips burned to kiss him. And when he throbbed, and spilled all over her hand, she knew she'd never be able to let go; this feeling was bigger than the both of them.
She works slowly now, a languid tug, a glide of fingertips over his velvety shaft. Swallowing the tiny moans that push through his lips and into her mouth. She knows what he needs, but he won't get it so easily. After all, he'd been the one to teach her just how delectable temptation could be.
Her thumb finds the very tip of his cock and traces a circle around it, spreading slippery precome along the ridge of his foreskin.
"Tanya."
She hears it like a songbird's cry, tugs out another fat bead before taking a step back and raising her thumb to her lips. Roger stares, breathless, as she licks his desire clean, his gray eyes saying all the things he can't. But Tanya knows; she knows so well.
She sinks to her knees, and kisses him exactly where they both want it.
The first lick is just a tease; the second a long sweep from root to tip. One of the many lessons she's learned, like how to push his foreskin back using only her lips, and how many inches to take in before he's moaning her name as if she were still teacher's pet.
She's always wanted him to take her in the classroom, would fantasize about showing up in a short skirt with no panties on, offering to help clean after school and bending over just enticingly enough that he'd want to bend her over his desk, ramming his cock into her pussy as he growled about how he could fuck her better than any boy. And—god—by the time the bell rang, she was so wet she swore the entire room could smell her dripping for him.
She hums around his cock, and sucks him down until her lips touch her fist.
Sometimes, she thinks about calling him Mr. Berkman again, while they're in bed together, and he's too busy peeling her panties down to notice. He wouldn't like it; there's something about him fucking a student that's a hard No, even as far as roleplay goes. He's so straightlaced when it comes to certain things. He won't let her drink until she's twenty-one, goes into lecture mode if she so much as thinks of running a yellow light. He doesn't even like to swear around her, though Tanya finds with a bit of work, and the right amount of stimulation, a little vulgarity is bound to slip out.
"Oh, Tanya. Don't stop. Fuck, you're so good." His fingers thread through her tangled hair and urge her closer, trembling, desperate as he starts to rock his greedy hips.
Feeling him fall apart in her hands is a gift unlike any other. She swirls her tongue the way he likes it, flicks the point just below his head. He's so sensitive here, a few licks can have him begging; a few more, and he's nearly ready to burst.
"I'm close—" He gasps. "Please—let me come in your mouth."
He'd asked her that the first time, hesitant and polite, and Tanya had moaned around him, Yes, Please, I want to swallow it. Words she couldn't say with a dick weighing against her tongue, but their eyes had locked, and the instant it hit her, she was hooked. On his taste, his smell—sweet and salty and heavy and delicious. They fucked just last night, but even through her own tang, Tanya can still taste him. He's coffee on a cold morning, chocolate on top of cake. He's always there, and right now, he's all hers.
With one last thrust and a breathless grunt, Roger spurts his release onto her tongue, his hips twitching to a halt as Tanya drinks down every last drop.
She smacks her lips together once she's finished, and smiles up at him. "Good?"
His glassy eyes and heaving chest are a clear answer, but still, Roger manages to summon a smile. "You—never cease to amaze me."
Tanya giggles. "Had to pay you back for that little stunt you pulled."
"Fair," he says, tucking his semi-soft cock away. They gaze lovingly at each other, drinking in the moment, before Roger reaches to brush her cheek. "Get up on the table," he smirks. "It's my turn."
Oh, Tanya is more than happy to.
Ever the gentleman, he offers his hand to help her to her feet, and together they make their way to the kitchen table, Tanya feeling like a princess being escorted to a grand banquet, though she knows she's the one who'll be devoured; she can hear his stomach growling from a mile away. And she wouldn't dream of making him wait for an appetizer.
The woven placemats are quickly shoved aside, along with Roger's floral tablecloth—probably older than time itself—and the small vase of fake chrysanthemums he keeps on there for decoration. Nothing that can't be thrown in the wash or wiped with a soapy rag. Still, better to be safe than sorry.
She climbs up on the table and faces outwards, leaning back on her hands to keep from falling as Roger eagerly yet carefully peels off her pajama bottoms and panties, the latter hanging on by a sticky thread. He whistles, and brings them to his lips, drags his tongue over the crotch so Tanya has one more thing to blush over. But Roger doesn't know she's got a few surprises of her own.
Opening her legs wide, she reaches a hand between them and spreads the folds of her cunt, revealing that wet, pretty pink that never fails to drive him wild.
She's thought of doing something like this before, not on the breakfast table, of course, but in the comfort of their bed. Partly to watch his cheeks glow when he comes home from work to find her there, but mostly because she wants to make him beg, to see him crawl across the floor on his hands and knees, and shove his face into her pussy. She wants to see just how much of a dirty old man he can be.
The tiles here aren't exactly easy on the knees, though, so it's just as well that Roger pulls up a chair and scoots in close to the table. Plus, he looks adorable doing it, with his silly grin like a child sitting down for dessert before dinner. She giggles.
"Comfy?"
Roger eases her towards the edge with two hands under her cheeks, then drapes her legs over his shoulders, never breaking eye contact. "Got the best seat in the house."
A rush of blood thunders in Tanya's ears, and, sucking in a breath, she licks her lips. "What's on the menu?"
Roger answers with a hum, and leans in to give a long lick along her slit.
Tanya gasps.
Looking at him in class, with his stern but cheerful demeanor, his knit cardigans and his neatly-tied hair, she'd never think her former teacher would enjoy eating pussy this much. But from the first time Roger had spread her legs and tickled her lips with his tongue, it became obvious that he was just as addicted to it as he is his history lessons. He dances circles around her clit, moans deep in his throat as he suckles it. Likes to tell her how delicious she tastes afterwards, how he loves all the little noises she makes, almost as much as he loves staring into her gray eyes while he slurps his fingers clean and wipes her juices from his bristly chin. She's taken to buying lingerie with crotchless panties, to make things easier.
She gives a moan, and digs the heel of her hand into the tabletop, tries to hold steady so she can watch him work, hard as it is to keep her eyes open. Especially once he starts flicking his tongue faster, then slowing down just enough to tease her to the edge and back.
It fills her with jealousy to think of all the women he's tasted before her. How he'd made love to their clits like this, eaten them out while his come was still warm inside them. Their legs shaking, riding his face until they screamed in ecstasy. He's done this too often not to be a master, and as green as she is, Tanya vows never to let her insecurities tear him from her arms. Let the world envy her; she has everything she could ever want right here.
Her hand finds the back of his head and holds him in place, neck bared to the ceiling as his soft tongue sweeps over her again and again, splitting her lips so he can push the point inside, just to feel her squirm as she always does.
If she could, she'd swallow him whole—his tongue, his cock, his fingers—all of it a part of her, a feeling she can hold from head to toe, her heart racing with impatience, voice breaking with lust.
"More."
Roger groans in acknowledgment, two fingers coming up to brush her silken lips. He strokes them, presses gently. Waits for her to cry out again before pushing inside and holding them there teasingly. Tanya feels her pussy clench.
"Roger… please."
A laugh. A flick of his tongue against them, and then Roger is moving, curling, massaging that sweet little spot, all while he folds his lips around her clit and sucks the life out of her.
She feels as if she'll break.
"Oh god—" She moans. "Roger—I'm gonna come."
The orgasm hits harder than it ever has, electric and invigorating. And it doesn't stop. Because Roger doesn't stop. He licks her through it and to the brink of another, Tanya howling as the second wave hits.
"Stop, stop. I can't."
Mercifully, his lips pull away, and with a slow stroke of her walls, he slides his fingers out, greedy sucking sounds prickling the air between each of her gasps. Her thighs feel like they'll never stop shaking, her pussy spasms around nothing. And fuck, she wants him again already; if it kills her, at least she'll die doing something she loves.
Cracking her eyes open, she lowers her head, just in time to see Roger wipe her glistening come from his grin. "Good?" He asks.
Tanya rolls her eyes despite her exhaustion. "Shut up."
Their laughter thrums as one, and there, in the absurdity of it all, Tanya knows she'll never feel as happy as she is with Roger. She'll never look at another with the same kind of adoration. She'll never regret loving him, no matter what society tries to tell her.
He hums that mesmerizing tune again, and leans in to kiss her inner thigh, gentle and caring as always. "You still hungry? Or did I spoil your appetite?"
Shouldn't she be asking him that? "I could eat. After I run upstairs to change my panties."
"Yeah, I think I'll put a shirt on, too," he says. "Do you know how much it stings when bacon grease splatters on your nipples?"
Tanya giggles as she slides onto his lap and curls her arms around his neck. "Why don't you tell me all about it over breakfast?"
"You really want to hear me complain about my greasy dad bod?" Roger laughs.
But Tanya just sweeps the hair from his forehead, smoothing away his wrinkles with a tender kiss. "Why wouldn't I? You know I love everything about you."
"I never thought I'd say it—" Tanya mumbles around a generous forkful, "—but these eggs are almost as good as sex. What'd you put in them?"
Roger grins at her comment, his loose-fitting tee barely big enough to contain all the praise he's been receiving this morning. "Paprika. And a little onion powder." He takes a bite of buttered toast. "Your toast is good, too."
And here she'd thought those Viewtube cooking videos wouldn't pay off. "Yeah, I really know how to pull down a lever," she says sarcastically.
"Well, maybe next time you can heat us up some sausage."
Their eyes meet across the table, and Tanya smirks. "Are you trying to seduce me, Roger Berkman?"
A sly smile plays behind the rim of his coffee cup. "Didn't know that was something I had to try."
"Don't joke, I might just take you up on that offer." Chuckling, she shovels down another big bite, but an odd tickle at the back of her throat stops her mid-swallow.
"What's up?" Roger asks with a frown. "Too much paprika?"
But all the paprika in the world can't wipe the grimace from Tanya's face as she reaches onto her tongue and pulls out a curly gray hair, holding it up so they both can see.
Roger's cheeks immediately turn red. "Maybe cooking shirtless wasn't one of my best ideas."
Maybe. But Tanya would suffer a thousand chest hairs for another morning like this. OK, make that two more chest hairs. "We'll just get you a mesh shirt next time," she says, and wipes the hair on her napkin. "I think that'd look just as good."