by Cowboy Rider

The explosion that echoed from the back row of his work room was not the loudest Florian Ambrose Desmar, lead instructor at the Academy for Arcane Excellence, had ever heard. Still, his shoulders stiffened at the sound and he stood still, waiting for even greater fallout. None arose. In fact, there was no noise at all. He turned slowly, surveying his students’ faces. One stood out. One always stood out. 

“Mr. Nikolaev,” he said, ensuring his voice was crisp and exact, “would you care to explain?”

Alexander Nikolaev was, by Florian’s estimation, the most annoying brat to ever grace his lecture hall. He was also, according to the other instructors, a model student in every course. Except Florian’s. He was always late, flitting into the room on a cloud of honeysuckle and arcane energy, high ponytail bouncing and miniskirt displaying sinfully long legs. His assignments were sloppy, as if he’d constructed them while in a daze. And worst of all those comments—

At the moment his face was frozen in panicked stupor, hair askew, hand frozen where he’d snatched it back from his cauldron. Florian could almost detect a slight tremor that matched the pounding of his own heart. He’d stressed to the students earlier in the lecture the importance of care with this brew, as hogsroot could be dangerous if combined with the wrong ingredients. Mr. Nikolaev, of course, had not been present for that warning, running late as usual. 

Alexander’s expression quickly melted into a mask of self-assured seduction. He lowered his eyes in faux-castigation and looked up at Florian through his dark lashes. “I’m sorry, Professor,” he murmured demurely. Professor. He said the word the way another, in another context, might say Daddy. “Do you want to punish me for it?” He even – damn him – lowered his hands to hold them behind his back. 

Nervous titters harmonized with exasperated sighs and the aria above it all, Casey, Alexander’s best friend, hissing at him in panicked frustration that, “Now probably isn’t the time!”

Florian tightened his grip on the spatula he still held in his hand as he took a deep breath. It was blue, one of the nice ones he’d bought for himself after the fifth academy-provided one broke. The painted-on branding on the handle was rubbing off, and there was a scorch mark from when Alexander had made a comment about his ass and he’d been so distracted he hadn’t realized he held it over an open flame. Those damn comments. Incessant, complementary, inappropriate. And yet. 

Florian was no stranger to students flirting with him, even earnestly. He’d enjoyed laughing with his coworkers over the student who’d wore too-tight white t-shirts every class when he’d learned of Florian’s inclinations towards men. He’d had former students write him heart-bearing letters about his impact on their life and invite him for coffee. He’d seen short skirts and bids for attention and brash lewdness. None of what Alexander was doing was new to him. And yet it all became new, with him. 

Florian took another deep breath and held it. He made his decision. He was only human, after all.

He strode deliberately towards the back of the room, not as if he was rushing, but decidedly with purpose. He approached the disaster that awaited him and the recently combusted pot. He firmly grasped Alexander’s upper arm and did not allow himself to relish in the feel of lean muscle under soft fabric or the way Alexander obediently kept his wrists crossed. Not yet. 

“Class dismissed,” he announced to the room. 

Relieved sighs and panicked squeaking formed a discordant melody as Florian began tugging Alexander towards the front of the room. 

“But Professor Desmar, the caldrons, with those ingredients—” Julia’s voice broke above the fray. 

Florian snapped at the same time he heard Alexander do the same. The flames under each cauldron extinguished at the same time they emptied. He blinked at the man still following him pliantly. 

Alexander ignored him. “I believe I placed everyone’s brews in the correct containment apparatus but you can check next lecture. Except mine, of course.” He made a face at himself. “That went right to disposal.” 

Florian stared for another beat. He cleared his throat. “Ah, yes.” 

Casey spoke up, their voice timid but determined. “A-are you sure you wouldn’t like help cleaning up, Professor? Or—?” They looked at Alexander, worrying a lip between their teeth, concern and loyalty shining in their expression. 

Alexander smiled at his friend. “I’ll be fine, Case. He might tear me a new fuckhole but I’ll be safe. I’m not sure why, though, I’ve already got the two down there. Three is just getting excessive.” 

Florian cleared his throat. He was so close. Just twelve more feet to the door of his store room and five more students left in the room, lingering with some combination of curiosity and misplaced obligation. “Yes,” he confirmed, ensuring he gave nothing away with his voice. “We’re just going to discuss Mr. Nikolaev’s performance in my class, and we don’t need an audience.” 

Alexander threw him a teasing pout. “Spoilsport. The audience is half the fun.” 

Casey still looked uncertain but began slowly packing their bag. “If you’re sure…” 

Alexander smiled genuinely at them, so quickly Florian thought he might’ve imagined it. “I am.” His smile turned wicked. “If I get any more sure I’ll—” 

Florian tightened his hold and cleared his throat. “I believe that’s enough, Mr. Nikolaev. I’ll see you at my usual office hours, Casey.” 

He resumed his path towards the store room, noting with relief as the last of the students began trickling towards the exit on the opposite wall. 

He pulled open the door and walked inside, the still-obeisant Alexander in tow. 

The dim lighting of the store room and the musty smell of dried roots calmed Florian’s racing heart but did nothing to divert him from his course. He turned to face Alexander as the last student exited the classroom and the door closed behind them with a click. 

Alexander still hadn’t uncrossed his arms. “You know, Professor, you didn’t have to cancel class to get me alone. I’m a busy boy, but I’d make time for you.” He smiled that slow, seductive smile he’d perfected. “Just tell me when and where.” 

Florian hung his head briefly, unable to bear the sight in front of him for a moment. “Now,” he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Alexander stumbled back a step. “What?” 

Florian lifted his gaze to the startled boy. He snapped, flinging the door closed with a discordant clang. “Here,” he said, pointing down to emphasize his point. “Now.” He held Alexander’s gaze for a moment. “Get on your knees.” 

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Alexander had a dream like this once. In it, he’d been wearing considerably less in the way of clothing, and Casey had turned into a blue chicken. 

He’d been running early, which was unacceptable because if he got into class on time Professor Desmar wouldn’t turn around and say, “Mr. Nikolaev,” in that tone of voice with his eyebrows just so. So he got coffee. And redid his eyeliner. And put on a shorter skirt. And by the time he actually made it to the lecture hall, the class was halfway through, and Professor Desmar didn’t even turn around when he’d entered. Casey tried to whisper the instructions to him in between keeping up with the current steps, but witch’s mallow and dragonberry jam look so cursedly similar and the next thing he knew the brew was exploding. He tried to throw up a shield around it, but he was pretty sure all it did was mess up his hair.

He pinched himself. 

Professor Desmar raised an eyebrow. “Well?” 

Alexander licked his lips. Was this some kind of test? He knew Professor Desmar hated him; other professors had even pulled him aside to ask about his performance in the class. Alexander couldn’t even properly blame him. He knew his behavior was disruptive and inappropriate, but he couldn’t help himself. He saw Professor Desmar standing there in those pressed slacks and whatever came to mind was out of his mouth.

“Any day now, Mr. Nikolaev,” Professor Desmar said impatiently. “Or should I add ‘slow’ next to ‘cocktease’ on your quarterly evaluation?”

Alexander dropped to his knees. He tried to steady his hands from their cursed tremors as he reached for Professor Desmar’s buckle but—

“Stop.” Florian’s voice was quiet but whip sharp. 

Without the forward momentum Alexander’s hands shook almost violently. Fuck. He’d dreamed about this. About Florian looking up one day and seeing him, for the first time and taking him up on one of his many offers. About being here, just like this, knees on the floor mat, looking up at the gorgeous older man limmed in the single, harsh overhead light that failed to really illuminate the room. But the look in Florian’s eyes was the same as always. Alexander didn’t know what it meant as his hands froze in their path in front of him.

“Hands behind your back.” 

Alexander complied quickly, squeezing his right wrist with his left hand in an attempt to ground himself. He would not fumble this. He wouldn’t.

Florian tore harshly at his buckle and fly, pushing his trousers down only far enough to release his cock, red and angry and already wet-tipped. He grappled with jars atop the nearby workstation with a clatter, his eyebrows drawn down in furious concentration. He placed a dollop of something on the tip, just below where his slit was weeping pre. “Lick.” 

Alexander glanced up at his face – still no softness to be found there – and then down to his cock. Was that dragonberry jam? Witch’s mallow? Neither would poison him, so that was nice, at least. He tried for a seductive smile. Nerves skittered under his skin like wayward hogsbreath roots. What was happening? He wanted this, he knew he did, but what if he fucked it up? The look on Florian’s face edged towards impatience again, and Alexander threw caution to the wind. He leaned forward, opening his mouth to envelope the head—

“No.” A firm grip on his ponytail halted his trajectory. “Lick.” 

The threat of tears itched at the corner of his eyes. Heat burned his cheeks as he stuck out his tongue obediently. He’d sucked plenty of dicks but never… this. 

Florian nodded, once. “Good.” 

The twinge of pressure from his hair, not yet pain but solidly present, showered tingles down his spine. He leaned in just that bit more and lapped the sticky substance from the velvety head, the acrid taste blooming on his tongue chased by a bit of the salty bitterness of Florian’s pre. He swallowed. Lapped at the head to completely clean the warm skin. When he was done, he looked up in question. 

“Dragonberry,” Florian rasped.

Another spoon, another dollop of off-white goo smeared onto the head of Florian’s cock. 

“Lick,” Florian ordered again. 

Alexander thought he understood now. His wrist flexed in his grip as he leaned forward to lick again, his head still restrained from fully enveloping the member by Florian’s staying hand. This one was sharp, sour and bitter, though the notes of still more pre sweetened the mixture slightly. He strained forward to tongue at the slit there, humming with appreciation as it chased down the sharp taste of the potion ingredient. He ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth, the slick texture a spark in his imagination. He wanted that cock inside him, not bobbing in front of his face as a tease. The mat under his knees cushioned him as he squirmed at the thought.

“Witch’s mallow.” 

Alexander nodded as best he could with his hair still held in that tight grip. Again that firmness caused a heat to simmer low in his abdomen. Florian was so handsome, his form large and imposing while Alexander knelt, pre and spit making a mess of him. He licked his lips absently as he admired the way the light caught on the hints of silver in Florian’s hair.

Florian’s breathing was uneven. His hand, large and warm and lightly callused, slid down to firmly cup Alexander’s jaw. “Just— just stay like that for me. Just take this.” He pushed his hips forward until the head of his cock rested on Alexander’s still open mouth. Plushness met plushness as Florian rested his cock there, breathing heavily. 

Alexander’s heart pounded. He should be doing something, right? Surely this, surely he, wasn’t enough, just kneeling here. He tried again to lurch forward, but was stopped by a harsh tug on his ponytail. 

“No.” Florian ground out. “You with that fucking mouth. Can’t follow a single goddamn instruction to save your life.” The bright points of pain on Alexander’s scalp faded as Florian let up the pressure. “You’re going to stay right there, Mr. Nikolaev, and take my cock until I say otherwise. Do I make myself clear?” 

Alexander couldn’t move his head enough to nod. “Yes, Professor,” he tried against the head of Florian’s cock. His body fell slack, held up by Florian’s hands on him. The fingers at his cheek flexed slightly. 

Alexander could feel the slick wet his thighs as he allowed the cock to advance further into his waiting mouth. He let the solid weight prise apart his soft palate and tongue, making room. He idly ran his tongue over it, tasting skin and maleness, luxuriating in fullness and quiet. Heavy eyelids fluttered as he lost himself. Florian was so handsome. His shirt was cleanly pressed and his slacks were fitted perfectly to his lean frame – aside from where they gaped open to expose his cock. Here he was, so composed, holding him together, filling him so sweetly. His cock pushed forward still, creating space at the entrance to Alexander’s throat. Alexander tried to breathe, tried to adjust to the intrusion, but Florian pulled back, the full head dragging back through the tight clutch of Alexander’s mouth. 

Alexander made a displeased noise, not wanting to lose this lovely fullness. He felt so nice. Florian was so nice, taking care of him, teaching him. His mouth felt nice, filled with a hard cock. His dick felt nice, throbbing within the constraints of his underwear. Everything was nice. 

“Shh,” Florian hushed, soothing his thumb over Alexander’s cheekbone. He stepped forward, the worn leather of his loafers on either side of Alexander’s bare calves. Pushing forward again, his cock carved out even more space, breaching Alexander’s throat, letting him adjust, then pulling back and pushing forward. Alexander forgot to think, forgot to strategize, letting Florian use him, further and faster until he was there, his nose buried in neatly trimmed pubic hair and—

“Good.” Florian rasped. “That’s so good, you’re so good, Al. Swallowing me down like you were made for it and you were, weren’t you? Oh, look at you.” A thumb swiped through the tears that must’ve started flowing from Alexander’s eyes at some point. “So good, taking all of me.” 

Alexander let out somewhere between a whimper and a cry at the praise, unable to bear the burning pleasure of it. 

“Shh,” Florian soothed, “you’re all right, Al.” He pulled back until his cock slipped free of Alexander’s lips. Alexander’s mouth stayed open, wanting that heft to return. “I’m going to fuck you now.” His fingers tensed as Alexander thought of rising. “No, stay. You’re going to listen to my instructions first.” 

“I want your cock back in my mouth.” Alexander hadn’t meant to say it. He thought it, sure, but just like always in Florian’s presence, his thoughts became deed before he could restrain himself. 

The huff Florian let out was very nearly affectionate. “You’re going to kill me, kid,” he muttered, but he removed the hand from Alexander’s hair to feed the tip back into Alexander’s mouth. HIs other hand still held his jaw firmly, just allowing him to suck on the tip as he did shallow, teasing thrusts. “There you go. You’re still going to pay attention, right?”

Alexander tried to nod as he suckled lightly, a contented sound rising in the back of his throat. 

“I’m going to fuck you. When I lift you up, you’re going to turn around and lean over this bench and spread your legs for me. Is that clear?”

Alexander swallowed the pre and saliva slowly filling his mouth and nodded. 

“Any questions?”

Alexander nodded again.

Florian removed his cock, lips twitching into a smile as Alexander made a disappointed noise. “Ask your question.” 

“What should I—” Alexander’s lips felt messy, uncoordinated. He tried to swallow to dispel some of the sensation. “What should I do with my hands?” Now that he mentioned them, his shoulders started to burn from being in this position for so long. 

Florian bent down and picked him up. “Hands on my shoulders.” His grip tightened as Alexander wriggled, attempting to fulfill his earlier command. “Change of plans, ignore that. Just— just let me—” He placed Alexander down on the bench, the cold metal a stark contrast through his underwear to the giving heat of Florian between his legs. 

He cupped a firm hand behind Alexander’s head and kissed him thoroughly, his already-claimed mouth thrilling at the sensation of being once again conquered. He squirmed, feeling the wet heat of Florian’s cock rubbing against his now-soaked underwear. He wanted more, wanted closer, wanted Florian. 

Florian dove a hand into Alexander’s underwear, giving a firm stroke to Alexander’s aching cock before diving two fingers into his soaked folds. The groan Florian let out vibrated in the back of Alexander’s throat. There was another quick tugging sensation at Alexander’s hair and he feared for a moment he’d fucked up, but it abated quickly and soon he felt the telltale sensation of his hair tie coming loose. Florian’s fingers delved into Alexander’s hair, still holding him firmly. 

Hurried fingers pushed aside Alexander’s drenched underwear and lined up Florian’s cock. “Here, you said?” Florian’s breath puffed warm against Alexander’s kiss-swollen lips. 

Alexander blinked heavy eyelids at the man standing between his trembling thighs as he tried to shake thoughts loose from his floaty haze. Had he said? He’d certainly been thinking it, but mind magic was the realm of science fiction. And until scant seconds before he was fairly certain his mouth had been thoroughly occupied. Florian rocked forward into him, an involuntary tease, drawing a gasp from Alexander’s mouth. “Yes, but, when—?” 

Florian inched his cock into Alexander’s under-prepared hole. “Second week of class. Said you’d let me wreck whichever hole I liked, but you preferred your cunt.” 

Thoughts stopped. Pressure in his cunt. The puffs of Florian’s panting breaths against his lips. The stiff fabric of Florian’s shirt under his fingertips. Hardness under his ass. Thighs trembling. 

A hand under Alexander’s chin, tipping his gaze up to Florian’s. “You still with me?” 

“You heard that?” 

Florian huffed out a laugh and dropped his head to Alexander’s neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses to the skin there. “Yes.” Another kiss, with a hint of teeth. “I did. And every other one, too.” 

“Oh fuck,” Alexander breathed. 

“That was the idea, no? Or to be fucked, rather?” The teasing note in Florian’s voice wasn’t one Alexander had ever heard before. The sound made giddiness fizz in his toes. 

Alexander didn’t know what to say. “I—” 

Florian cut him off with a forceful kiss. “You and that damn mouth,” he murmured fondly. He thrust faster, his way slicked by their combined arousal. “I don’t want you to say anything unless it’s my name, understood?” 

Alexander hiccuped with pleasure as Florian’s cock rubbed into his pleasure spot. “Yes, Professor.” 

The hand at Alexander’s hip tightened until he was sure he’d wear a mark tomorrow. Florian began thrusting in earnest, the heavy bench bearing the weight of the thrusts with only minor tremors. Alexander’s thighs clenched involuntarily around Florian’s sturdy form in a desperate attempt to keep him from withdrawing, wanting more, closer. His fingertips dug into Florian’s shoulders while his cock, still partially confined in his underwear, throbbed in a desperate reminder of his arousal. Florian’s groans as he worked up to a steady rhythm were intoxicating, chasing away coherent thought. And why should he? Florian was here. Florian would take care of him. 

Florian continued to drive into his body, his thick cock making space for itself in Alexander’s desperate channel. Alexander started to worry that Florian was waiting for him to come, and he’d need his cock stroked for that. He unclenched his hand from Florian’s shoulder—

“No.” Florian stopped, his dick half-buried in Alexander’s cunt. 

Alexander whined and replaced his hand on the firm shoulder. He tried futilely to buck his hips and get a return of that friction, pouting up at the man in front of him. 

“You’re not going to come like this. I told you, you’re going to take my cock until I say otherwise. You told me you understood. Do you need a refresher?” 

Alexander was quick to shake his head. “No, Professor.” 

“Right, then. You stay just like this, letting me use this sweet little cunt for as long as I like. I’ll tell you when I want you to do something else.” 

“Yes, Professor.” 

Florian wound fingers behind Alexander’s head and kissed him thoroughly, fucking him urgently. 

Alexander again relaxed into him, letting himself be used, enjoying even the painful restriction on his cock and the slight friction of his underwear. He experimented with clenching around the shaft inside him, enjoying the feeling of fullness, and was rewarded by Florian’s rumbling groan. 

“Just like that,” Florian praised. His hand slid to Alexander’s ass, pressing further into him, his thrusts short and brutal now. Alexander tried to keep up. Whatever he was doing must’ve worked because the cock inside him hardened impossibly further. “You want it don’t you? Deep inside.” 

“Yes, yes, please, Professor. I’ll do whatever you want, please.” Alexander could her the tremble in his breath as he responded, pleasure and need making him lightheaded as he clutched Florian tightly in return.

“So good, Al.” Florian came with a drawn-out groan, his cock pulsing in Alexander’s cunt, come soaking his most intimate places. The warmth of his spend was a solid comfort as Florian’s hips slowed and then stopped.

Florian kept them joined together in the aftermath, regaining his breath with his forehead resting against Alexander’s. Alexander’s thighs began to shake. Pleasure, yes, but also tiredness from holding them aloft all this time.

Alexander could feel the smile on Florian’s lips against his partially bared shoulder. When had that slid down so far? He couldn’t say. “You stay right there.” 

Florian began to pull away, but Alexander let out a low whine and clutched his shoulders tighter. Florian used gentle fingers to pry off Alexander’s left, then right hand, leaving a lingering kiss on the palm of each, before pulling back completely, exposing Alexander to the chilly air. He moved Alexander until he was firmly seated on the bench, legs still splayed, come leaking out of his hole around the underwear that had partially slid back into place. 

Alexander had only a moment to mourn the loss of his closeness before he was distracted by him shucking his shirt over his head, exposing the smooth planes of his back, and, as he turned, his chest. At the sight, Florian’s bare torso bathed in the light of a single bare lightbulb, Alexander became acutely aware of the fact that his cunt was empty and he had not yet come.

Florian was all self-assurance, now, sauntering towards Alexander with a smirk on his lips. Alexander tried not to scowl petulantly at him. 

Florian plucked a bottle from behind Alexander and held it out to him. “I’m going to undress you now. I want you to put that” –he gestured at the small brown bottle now in Alexander’s hand– “wherever you want my mouth.” 

Alexander read the label. Honeyrose essence? There was something important with this plant, he knew it, but he couldn’t recall what it was, mind still hazy with pleasure and Florian’s nearness.

Florian unbuttoned Alexander’s top button. Alexander sniffed the contents of the bottle. Sweet and deep, like waking up from a long nap. Alexander glanced at Florian’s lips, face a mask of peaceful concentration. He took out the dropper and smeared a little of the oil on the pulse point of his neck. The skin there felt… normal. A little wet, maybe. He thought it might tingle. But soon Florian’s mouth was there, lapping it up as his clever fingers continued to work the buttons of Alexander’s shirt open. 

Alexander gasped, tilting his head to allow better access. He gripped the bottle in his palm, arching into Florian’s form futilely. He wanted to obey Florian. He wanted more and closer. He wanted to come. Florian pushed the shirt from Alexander’s shoulders. A shiver ran through Alexander’s form. His clenching hand accidentally depressed the dropper, sending droplets of oil dripping down his shoulder, inside his arm, to pool at the inside of his elbow. 

Alexander winced. How did he always manage to cause so much trouble in Florian’s presence? “I’m sorry, you don’t have to—” 

Florian’s mouth had already moved to his shoulder. Alexander had not, until this moment, considered the spot a particularly sensitive one, but as Florian teased with lips and tongue and a hint of teeth, he found that whimpers were leaking from between his lips. Florian chased the droplets down, sensitizing the flesh in his path, until he reached the hollow of Alexander’s arm. He focused there for a moment, then a slight pressure that turned to a dull pain. When he pulled his mouth away, a bright mark was beginning to bloom in the spot. The sight made that fizzy sensation return to Alexander’s bones, and he could feel the goofiness of his smile as he looked at it. 

Florian lifted Alexander’s tank top over his head. Alexander thought for a moment, worrying his bottom lip slightly. A glance at Florian’s face, hungrily taking in his bare top half, bolstered his confidence and he let several large drops slide between his pecs, down his abdomen, before pooling in his naval. Florian didn’t hesitate, his tongue laving the thick hair growing there, removing the oil from his skin. His head followed the path laid out by the drops, cleaning the skin with ardent attention. When he swirled his tongue around Alexander’s navel, the muscles in Alexander’s stomach clenched, nervous and sensitive. 

Florian laid a large, proprietary hand over Alexander’s upper thigh. “Shh,” he soothed, lapping at the skin until Alexander relaxed into his touch again. 

The skirt wasn’t coming off with Alexander still sitting on it. Alexander made a mental note as Florian seemed to know without needing to be told, picking him up and placing him gently on uncertain feet back on the floor. A kiss placed at the dip in his back had his eyes fluttering closed and a sappy sound floating free from his lips. Florian blessedly removed his underwear along with his skirt, so that Alexander stood bare in the middle of the room, Florian’s come dripping down the inside of his thighs, spit cooling the sensitive places of his upper body. 

Florian waved a hand over the bench, cleaning it, then began setting up as though for class. 

Alexander blinked. “What? What are you doing?”

Florian smiled at him, indulgence and amusement. “Make-up work. Or rather, you are.”

Alexander frowned. “I don’t—”

“Come here.”

Alexander’s feet were obeying before he made the conscious decision to. 

Florian arranged him how he liked, standing in front on a cauldron, a shield wrapped around the front of his body in lieu of clothes, facing ingredients that he couldn’t, at this moment, identify if his life depended on it. Florian stood behind him, bare chest pressing into Alexander’s bare back. The smartass part of Alexander’s brain – the part that wasn’t currently floating in the sea of Florian’s firm direction – thought of inquiring whether this violated the “proper attire” and “no horseplay” rules of potion making, but it was quickly drowned out by the rest. 

Florian tapped the inside of his thighs. “Feet apart. I’ll hold you up.” He lined up his cock and pushed in without ceremony.

Alexander groaned as Florian’s cock stretched him open again, the new angle a sort of blissful agony. “Please,” he rasped, unsure what it was he was even pleading for. 

“Start by turning the heat on medium.” Florian nibbled on Alexander’s ear teasingly while his hands held tight to Alexander’s hips. 

Slow, rolling thrusts drew gasps from Alexander’s lips even as his hands complied with the instruction. He tried to push back into the motion, but Florian’s firm hold kept him right in place. 

“Three measures of potion base.” 

Alexander’s magic responded to Florian’s direction even more readily than his body. The base sat placidly in the cauldron, awaiting further instructions, as Alexander clung desperately to the spatula he held in his hand. 

“Turn counterclockwise three times.” Florian kissed his way from Alexander’s ear to his pulse, all while keeping up those slow, sensual rocking thrusts. 

At that point, Alexander lost himself. He relaxed back into Florian’s chest, luxuriating in the feel of so much bare skin. Florian still wore his pants, the zipper digging into Alexander’s ass on every thrust. Florian’s voice floated over him, directing him, and Alexander simply followed, trusting that if Florian wanted something, he’d tell him. 

“Add a thumb of witch’s mallow.” 

Alexander’s hand froze. Two very similar jars sat in front of him. He made a distressed sound in the back of his throat, wishing he could stop and hide his face in Florian’s chest. 

“Shh, you’re okay. I’ve got you,” Florian murmured. He ran a hand over Alexander’s lower stomach, just above where his cock was standing at attention. 

Florian swiped a finger through the first jar and held it up to Alexander’s lips. Alexander took the digit into his mouth without hesitation. The acrid taste from before burst onto his tongue and he frowned, uncertain. Florian chuckled, removing his finger to swipe it through the other jar. This time sourness bloomed, and Alexander nodded. “That one.”

“Good.” The pleasure in Florian’s voice was better than any roses or chocolates he’d ever received from a lover. 

Florian continued directing him, his thrusts just slightly more forceful, until every rocking motion rubbed Alexander’s cock against the hard edge of the bench, the sensation at once overwhelming and insufficient. 

“Ian,” Alexander gasped. “Please. Please, let me come.”

“And ruin all your hard work?” Florian teased in mock affront. His breaths were coming a little harder, too, though. 

“Please,” Alexander begged. 

“After you finish your potion.”

“Then tell me the godsforsaken last steps,” Alexander grit out. 

“Good potions take time, Mr. Nikolaev.”

Alexander nearly sobbed in desperation. The cock in his cunt glided easily due to the spend from earlier, and that knowledge just made him hotter. Florian continued his directions, until he stopped. 

“What’s next?” Alexander pleaded. 

“Oh, on the potion?” Florian said. He paused to suck a bruise into Alexander’s neck. “Nothing. It’s finished.”

Alexander could hardly hold his eyes open, his toes curling desperately. “So can I–?”

“Come for me.”

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Honeyrose essence is a rare potion ingredient that, among some magical practitioners, holds an almost sacred status. When gifted to a partner, it symbolizes love and devotion. In some circles, it is even more momentous than a marriage proposal. Honeyrose essence is thus sometimes used in erotic rituals. 

– Part of an assignment completed by Alexander Nikolaev for FS231: Flowers And Symbolism

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Florian had gotten significantly worse at hiding his emotions over the last several months. He blamed his boyfriend for rubbing off on him, to which the brat would cheekily respond, but you love it when I do that!

The thought brought a smile to his face as he walked into his flat, depositing his keys by the door. The sight that awaited him had him stopping in his tracks, heart pounding. 

Alexander looked up from the couch, a line of concentration between his eyebrows smoothing out as he spotted Florian. He sat in comfortable pajama bottoms and a tank top, hair mussed from running his hands through it, face bare of any cosmetics and the lack of sleep over these last few nights clearly visible. 

Florian reflected that he had thought his other coworkers easily duped when they’d described Alexander’s studiousness, but that’d changed over the last several months as well. He was a serious student, studying hard, and combined with his natural talent, it made him a force of nature. 

“Well?” Alexander asked, anxiety rolling off of him in waves. “Is it bad?”

Florian dove for him, flattening him on the couch, his wrists crossed over his head in a firm grip. “Tell me you can take a study break.”

Alexander’s eyes were wide, his chest heaving. “I can take a study break, but what—?”

Florian cut him off with a kiss that bordered on harsh. “You passed. Of course you did. Professor Trumad said it was one of the best final potions projects he’d ever marked.”

“I did? Then why—?” Alexander flexed his wrists in Florian’s hold, not as if trying to escape, but testing. 

“Yes.” Florian kissed him thoroughly in reward for his ready submission. 

“I’m done!” Alexander’s smile was radiant. Florian had to taste it. He did, comprehensively. 

“I want to fuck you.” He spoke the words into the sensitive skin on Alexander’s neck that always made him shiver. “Tell me yes.”

Alexander was already hardening against his thigh. His voice was breathy with his reply: “Yes, Professor.”

Love7Share this with your friends!