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louiseluxTitle: Bad Mr Cho
Fandom: Saiyuki
Pairing: Hakkai/Gojyo
Warnings: explicit m/m sex, PWP
Notes: this story probably needs a little background before you read it. I am writing an AU story with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
emungere, where Gojyo is in the last year of high school and has an unrequited crush on his English teacher, Mr Cho, who is ten years older than him and is the only teacher who has ever bothered to take an interest in Gojyo and his less than happy home life. In that story, Mr Cho is very responsible and would never dream of taking advantage of a student. So naturally I began to wonder what it would be like if our Mr Cho was not so nice, and then very wrong student/teacher smut happened. In this story he really is very bad. Gojyo is seventeen and Mr Cho is ten years older.
Many thanks toemungere and new_kate for encouragement and beta. So, onto the fic of wrong...
Time passes, each second slower than the last. 2.55pm. 2.56pm. His eyes are on the clock, and his mind is not on the assignment Mrs Jeffries is giving out. The bell rings so he shoves his books away with fingers that are cold at the tips and palms that are lightly filmed with sweat. He's queasy with waiting.
He walks along the corridor to Mr Cho's office. It gets quieter the further he goes, fewer students, less hubbub, the blue linoleum squeaking under his sneakers. Mr Cho's office has a wooden door with a small white plaque. It has 'Head of English' printed on it. The lights are off: he's not there.
Gojyo lets himself in. He has always liked the smell of this room: pencil shavings and paper and ink, the faint chemical scent of recently-replaced carpet. Mr Cho's desk stands in one corner, next to a wall of bookshelves and a tall grey filing cabinet. There is a window behind the desk, but the blinds are drawn, making the room dim. In the opposite corner are more bookshelves, and stacks of books and papers. He rests his backpack against the wall under the coat peg near the door, and goes to the corner opposite Mr Cho's desk, facing the door. He kneels down.
His throat is so dry he can hardly swallow and that won't do at all, he thinks. He wipes his palms on his thighs and wants to undo his pants. He is shaking with the thought of what's going to happen. His face is hot, his hands cold.
There are footsteps in the corridor, slow and deliberate. When the door handle creaks and the door swings open, Gojyo's heart begins to beat so fast he thinks he might faint. He has to breathe deep, but softly, so that Mr Cho won’t know.
Mr Cho looks at the backpack, but he doesn't look at Gojyo. He walks in, then turns to lock the door, metal on metal making a smooth, oiled clicking sound. With one quick movement he closes the blinds and they rattle down. Still he doesn’t speak, or even look Gojyo's way.
The floor is hard, but Gojyo truly doesn't mind it. He thinks he can pick up Mr Cho's scent from here and he opens his mouth and wets his lips, getting as much moisture on his tongue as he can manage. If he had to speak he doesn't think anything would come out but a squeak, but luckily, speaking is not what Mr Cho wants. Not now. This isn't like in class.
He can’t look as Mr Cho moves to his desk, arranging his papers for tomorrow, taking things out of his briefcase. Gojyo hears the snap of the lock as he opens and then shuts it again a minute later, then the swish of fabric. Mr Cho is taking off his jacket. He knows, even without looking. His breath quickens and he strokes one palm over his erection, holding it, waiting. It will be soon.
Mr Cho's voice, when it comes, makes him jump even thought it is very soft.
"I'm glad you're here, Gojyo," he says, and now he's walking over, footsteps muffled on the carpet.
Gojyo feels like he can hear every tiny movement, ever breath, every crushed fibre, every rustle of Mr Cho's clothes. When Mr Cho actually touches him, sliding his fingers gently through Gojyo's hair, he is so sensitised that he almost makes a noise. He holds it in, because Mr Cho doesn’t like him to make a noise. Someone might overhear.
Mr Cho touches his hair, running it through his fingers for what seems like a long time to Gojyo. Gojyo looks up. He wants to press his face to Mr Cho's stomach, or put his arms round his waist. He wants the sharp taste of Mr Cho's cock on his tongue and can almost feel silky flesh filling his mouth, sliding over his lips. Gojyo's breath comes harder as Mr Cho touches his cheek.
"You're very, very beautiful," he says, with his fingertips on Gojyo's cheekbone, moving in tiny circles.
His fingers curl under Gojyo's jaw and his thumb slides over Gojyo's lower lip, pulling it down. Gojyo sucks it in without thinking. It makes Mr Cho draw in a breath. Mr Cho is staring at him, his lips curved in a very slight smile. His mouth is open a little and he looks like he does in class when he's reading something aloud; distracted and sort of pleased. Gojyo can’t get enough of looking at him. He feels his own eyes widen, as if by doing that he can somehow see him more or better. Mr Cho's dark hair frames his face and his eyes look shiny and almost black, even though Gojyo knows that in daylight they are deep green, like the bottom of a cool pond.
His mouth is on a level with Mr Cho's zipper, and from this angle he can see the thick line of his cock, stiff in his pants. He can even see the swell of his balls where the cloth is pulling, but he doesn't reach out like he wants to, not until Mr Cho says he can. He's been taught well.
Mr Cho pushes his thumb in and out, pressing down on Gojyo's tongue. His other hand is at his zipper now, tugging it down in two sharp movements. He breathes hard through his nose and pops open his belt and the top button of his trousers.
"I've had a very hard day, Gojyo," Mr Cho says then, and Gojyo nods, knowing Mr Cho will be expecting a response. "Lift your chin, please," he whispers and now Gojyo can hear the faint shudder in his breath.
Gojyo has to suck air in to stay calm, but under his own hand he's aching. Mr Cho is just pretending to be calm, he knows this. He's excited and turned on and he's going to fuck Gojyo's mouth like he'd been wanting to all day, ever since his cock left Gojyo's mouth yesterday, at about the same time. Gojyo's gut clenches with lust.
Mr Cho takes his cock out with one hand and holds it, stroking lightly with his whole fist clenched around it. A drop of clear liquid squeezes from its slit and stands there against the swollen purple head. Yesterday Mr Cho wiped it on Gojyo's lips and got him to kiss the head, just like he wanted to kiss Mr Cho, with lips and tongue and licking until Mr Cho had groaned, loud, breaking his own rule, and had shoved in deep and fast.
Mr Cho takes his thumb away and instead cups the back of Gojyo's neck, fingers stroking quicker now over his skin and Gojyo can feel them shaking. Mr Cho wants to fuck his face so much, Gojyo knows. He knows because Mr Cho tells him so when Gojyo's lips are stretched tight around his cock, his voice low and rough, nothing like how he sounds in class.
"I want you," Mr Cho says now. "God, I want you. Open your mouth."
With his words, his fingers tighten on Gojyo's neck, drawing his head closer so quickly he has to shuffle on his knees or fall forward. Mr Cho steps forward too and Gojyo watches his fingers uncurl from around his cock, until he's holding it to Gojyo's mouth, offering it to his open lips. They're very close now and Gojyo's breath is coming so fast he thinks he might choke if he tries to suck him.
He does it anyway, licking out with his tongue. Mr Cho wants it, so he'll do it. Mr Cho wants him, his special student. His favourite.
The arrangement is simple. Gojyo stops by after school and waits, if Mr Cho isn't here. He's not to switch the lights on or make a noise. Kneeling in readiness is good. Mr Cho likes him to be ready, because sometimes he comes straight over once he's through the door and is unzipped and pushing into his mouth before Gojyo can properly even think about what is happening. Those times, Mr Cho might pull out after a few moments and kiss him, soft and… loving.
Thinking that right now, with Mr Cho's dick at the back of his throat, Gojyo whimpers and looks up.
"Please?" he mumbles, around his mouthful, and Mr Cho gasps and then nods.
Gojyo unzips himself and wraps his palm around his own cock. Mr Cho drags a handkerchief out of his pocket and drops it at Gojyo's feet.
"Catch it all this time," he murmurs, then strokes Gojyo's hair away from his face when he nods. "Good boy," he says. He guides Gojyo's head back, off his cock. "Will you do it slowly today? Make it last for me," except as he says it his cockhead is rubbing over Gojyo's lips impatiently.
"Of course," Gojyo breathes, leaning forward to kiss his stomach where it is exposed.
"Such a good student," Mr Cho says, his voice tight. "What else can I teach you, I wonder?"
He hooks his fingers in Mr Cho's underwear and pulls them down a little, freeing his balls. It just takes one lick across them, firm and wet, and Mr Cho buries his hands in his hair and presses Gojyo's face to his cock. They stay still like that for maybe a minute, until all Gojyo can feel is his own heartbeat thudding in his ears. Mr Cho is rubbing the wet tip of his erection across Gojyo's cheek.
Like this, it’s hard to imagine he'll see Mr Cho in class tomorrow and get no more than an almost-smile and a friendly look at the end of the lesson. There will be no hint of lust in Mr Cho's eyes, even though Gojyo will be looking for it, hoping. Mr Cho is a good actor. So is Gojyo, by now.
"Lick it," Mr Cho says now, and Gojyo obeys.
He breathes hot over it, because that makes Mr Cho clench his fists and jerk his hips. He licks long wet stripes along the underside of his cock, feeling the big vein pulse on the flat of his tongue. He sucks the head of his cock, letting his teeth graze over the firm ridges there, just hard enough for Mr Cho to swear, fuck, yes, soft and low into the quiet room.
Mr Cho never uses language like that. He has punished Gojyo before now for cursing, punished him hard, over the desk, papers slipping everywhere and Mr Cho's palm wrapped over his mouth in case Gojyo cried out.
Blood thrums in his ears now, at the memory. They hadn’t done it again, because it had gotten out of hand and Gojyo was sure the fast thudthudthud of Mr Cho's desk as he'd fucked Gojyo's ass must have been audible in the hallway. He'd come first, helplessly spurting all over Mr Cho's hand, and Mr Cho had had him lap it from his fingers, teeth sharp on Gojyo's ear and breath hot and panting as he came, voice twisting round Gojyo's name.
But that won’t happen today and he is mostly glad. He doesn't want Mr Cho to lose his job. But if he did, it would mean that Gojyo could be waiting upstairs in Mr Cho's bedroom instead, naked on the bed. He is sure Mr Cho would want that. So sure. He has never dared ask.
"Gojyo," Mr Cho is whispering now, as Gojyo takes his cock deeper into his mouth. "Oh, Gojyo, yes," he says, so soft and gentle.
It's a bewildering contrast to his grabbing fingers and the way his erection is so hard in Gojyo's mouth that it feels almost unreal. He loves it like this, when Mr Cho can be thinking about him and only him. He sucks it harder, getting messy now as he touches himself, letting his tongue curl around the head as he moves his lips up and down his shaft, keeping them tight.
When he takes a deep breath and takes Mr Cho's cock so deep it's actually in his throat, Mr Cho groans and eases Gojyo's head closer, until Gojyo's lips are touching the root, and wiry hair is brushing his lips. Gojyo can't hold it for long, but he wants to, wants to give Mr Cho the best blowjob he's ever had. Salt water rolls out of his eyes and when Mr Cho pulls out he leans down to kiss him on the mouth, hard and fast, tongue licking over Gojyo's lips. He smiles and Gojyo smiles back, meeting his eyes.
He wants to wrap his arms round him and cling on, say stupid things into his smooth skin, make Mr Cho admit he feels the same way. Instead he draws Mr Cho's hips closer with his hands and takes him in his mouth again, licking and sucking, wet and sloppy, until he feels it: the throb and the pulse of Mr Cho's cock getting even harder, his hips jerking under Gojyo's palms as he says Gojyo's name, low and rough and needy, a steady chant that someone might overhear.
Gojyo has been ready to come ever since Mr Cho kissed him. He wants to try and time it with swallowing, but he can't help working himself faster, feeling the clench in his balls as Mr Cho's hands spread, almost gentle, over the back of his head. The wet sounds they are making together are almost enough, with Mr Cho moaning his name over and over, cock deep in his mouth, thrusting and coming-- oh god, yes, please-- coming down Gojyo's throat, filling his mouth until he chokes it down. His own cock jerks and he scrabbles for the handkerchief, catching his own come as it spurts out, pleasure piercing him until he has to squeeze his eyes shut and gasp and pull his head back so he can breathe.
Mr Cho is standing still and breathing hard, his hands on Gojyo's head.
"Come along-- stand up," Mr Cho says, taking a deep, shaky breath.
He holds out his hand and pulls Gojyo to his feet, then enfolds him in his arms, just for a second or two. His hands stray down to Gojyo's ass and squeeze it, and his lips land on Gojyo's neck, nipping hard enough to make him gasp. Gojyo puts his arms round his neck. He wants to tuck his face in there and just breathe, but there isn’t time. They don’t linger here, even if they are both red faced and still breathing hard. Mr Cho is licking his skin now, like he is trying to memorise Gojyo's taste. He is smoothing his palms in circles on Gojyo's ass and oh god, Gojyo could go again almost straight away. His cock twitches, and when Mr Cho eases him back with firm hands on his shoulders he almost says something-- he might beg if Mr Cho doesn't send him away soon.
"Oh, Gojyo," Mr Cho says, looking into his eyes.
A worry line creases between his eyes and he smooth a strand of hair back from Gojyo's forehead.
"Don't worry," Gojyo says, because he doesn't know what else to say. "Please."
He reaches up to touch Mr Cho's lips. Mr Cho's face changes then. He pulls Gojyo close once more and it takes a moment for Gojyo to realise that Mr Cho wants to kiss him. He's breathing heavily against Gojyo's lips.
The kiss is intoxicating, hot and wet and violent and gentle in a way Gojyo can scarcely understand. He can feel Mr Cho's teeth scraping over his lips and his tongue as it slides hard against his own. Mr Cho pulls back suddenly, with a sound almost like he's in pain. He spans his fingers on either side of Gojyo's face, thumbs curling over his cheeks, just holding him as he presses their foreheads together.
"I can't get enough of you," Mr Cho says, and then one hand moves, travelling down to squeeze Gojyo's still-hard cock. "Gojyo," he breathes, rubbing him.
It's what Gojyo wants to hear. They both groan and Gojyo knows, even as his thoughts scatter, that they are in danger here, somehow-- this is not like all the other times. Mr Cho has never said anything like that before. He wants to hear it again, over and over, Mr Cho telling him that as he fucks him, rolling naked together in Mr Cho's bed-- a place he has never been.
"Take me home with you," he blurts, then bites his lip on it hard, wishing he'd kept it in.
Mr Cho doesn't answer and Gojyo is almost glad, because he doesn’t think he can deal with the 'no'. Mr Cho kisses him again, palm flat and hot on his cock, rubbing harder.
"What would it take to exhaust you?" he whispers, smiling, as he kisses Gojyo's lips softly, small clinging touches that drive Gojyo wild for more. Mr Cho licks at his lips with the tip of his tongue, slipping between them as Gojyo moans, and Gojyo knows he is being teased. Mr Cho can have whatever he wants, when he wants it. It's not the same for Gojyo.
"Please," Gojyo says, fisting his hands in the back of Mr Cho's shirt.
"Gojyo, if I took you home," and there are more kisses, harder now, wetter and deeper, "I'd never want to let you go."
"Oh," Gojyo gasps, his breath hitching. "Oh."
In the Beginning
"Gojyo."
Mr Cho's voice is sharp, unusually so. He is sitting behind his desk in his office as Gojyo wanders past. School has been over for ten minutes and if asked, Gojyo would say he was on his way to watch football practise.
"Oh, hi," Gojyo says, turning, with his best smile, the one that never fails to work on either the cheerleaders or, sometimes, the football players.
Mr Cho is not immune to him; he knows this from the way Mr Cho's eyes widen slightly and the way his gaze flicks from Gojyo's face to his body when he turns the smile on Mr Cho. If he blinked he'd miss it, but he doesn't blink. Gojyo is hunting for signs, any sign.
Mr Cho-- and he can hardly bring himself to think this-- is beautiful. Beautiful, he repeats silently, secretly. He watches Mr Cho's mouth move when he talks, and watches his ass as he walks. He wants to be able to touch him with his lips, his hands, his cock. He knows he wants this, and it terrifies him, as do the slender, eagerly hoarded clues that Mr Cho might want it too. Yet he can't seem to stay away.
He has no idea what Mr Cho thinks about him, not really. He knows Gojyo as the boy who always hands his homework in late, or is half asleep in class, or says dumb things about poetry. It's not that Gojyo doesn’t try, but most of his energy goes on getting his mom takes her tablets on time and making sure no one guesses exactly how bad things are with him.
Gojyo wants Mr Cho to remember him for more than that. He wants to be the one who Mr Cho wants to talk to, the one he asks back after class, to be with. When he tries to imagine what being with would consist of, he can see sharp images of himself kissing Mr Cho, of them naked and touching each other, Mr Cho smiling at him in that cool way, like he thinks Gojyo is special.
Sometimes he catches Mr Cho watching him. Mr Cho always looks away, but sometimes he flushes, very faintly. Gojyo takes it as a good sign. Right now, he turns his smile up another notch and leans against Mr Cho's door, cocking his hip. Look at me, he wills.
"Is everything okay?" he says.
Mr Cho stares at him for a second, then shakes his head.
"Come in, please," he says. "I’d like to have a word about your work."
Mr Cho isn't smiling at him today. Gojyo's heart drops and he comes in and sits, putting his backpack at his feet. It's the first time he's been in here. It's quiet and tidy and smells of schoolbooks. It's also very quiet. Mr Cho gets up and shuts the door and Gojyo's heart jumps.
"What's-- is anything wrong?" Gojyo says, worried now.
Shutting the door is serious. Mr Cho isn't smiling at him like he usually does. Instead his mouth is turned down at the corners and he is frowning. He sits down at his desk and sighs.
"I don't understand, Gojyo," he says, sounding flat. "I'm very disappointed in you."
"What?" Gojyo says. His own voice sounds small and confused. It's how he himself feels.
"Why do you come to school?" Mr Cho asks, meeting his eyes.
They are intense green, with thick dark lashes, the kind that girls always want. Gojyo finds he is staring into them and he has no idea what to say. He doesn’t even know what Mr Cho is asking.
"I-- I-- because I have to?" he offers.
It's the wrong answer, even though it's true. Mr Cho purses his lips and shakes his head.
"To learn. For me to teach you." He takes a stack of papers from a folder on his desk. Gojyo recognises his own handwriting. "You're not only letting yourself down Gojyo, but you're letting me down as well. You've a very good mind and I want to see you use it. Not copy your work from others."
"I didn't," Gojyo says, even though he did.
"Please don't lie to me."
"Sorry-- Mr Cho, I'm--- " and he stops, red faced.
"Unfortunately I've heard you say that before," Mr Cho says. "I can assume you are lying to me again."
Mr Cho sounds like he doesn't care anymore. This isn't right. This isn't how it is supposed to be. Mr Cho is supposed to like him, and to say kind things.
"I'm not! I'll do better next time. I promise."
He'll promise anything, do anything, he realises, and it's not even a surprise to know this. He wants Mr Cho to be smiling at him again. He wants Mr Cho. He desperately wants Mr Cho to want him back.
"Gojyo, why should I believe you?" Mr Cho sits back and rubs at his forehead like he's getting a headache, as if he's had enough of this conversation and wants to go.
Gojyo can't speak for a moment. He can't think of a single reason that he can say out loud. He can't bear Mr Cho's disappointment. He thinks this but doesn't say it, because a terrible, wonderful idea has burst into his mind. He feels his own hands start to shake and he blinks, feeling almost queasy, then stands up.
"I haven't said you can leave," Mr Cho says, watching him, his brows creasing.
"I'm not," he says, almost gasping with the effort of speaking. "I want to do better," he stammers. "I want to be good."
He can't believe he is going to do this. What if Mr Cho throws him out or calls his mom, or both? He might be expelled. He finds he doesn't care enough, not with Mr Cho watching him, mouth open and eyes wide as Gojyo walks around his desk and sinks to his knees at Mr Cho's feet. He feels free suddenly, like he has done the worst he can do. Mr Cho is staring at him, hands gripping the wooden arms of his chair. Gojyo sees his eyes flick to the door, but it is still firmly closed. Then he looks back at Gojyo.
"What do you think you're doing?" Mr Cho says.
He is breathing too fast, Gojyo notices.
"Please don't be angry with me," Gojyo says, hardly even thinking about the words. He means them, but they don't seem important, not with Mr Cho so close. Gojyo puts a hand on his knee and stares up. "I can't stand it. I'm sorry."
He means it too. He doesn't want Mr Cho to get in to trouble, but he can't seem to stop. He slides his hands up Mr Cho's thighs. They are firm and warm under his hands and his palms make a soft noise on the wool of Mr Cho's pants. Mr Cho claps his hands down on Gojyo's as they reach mid-thigh.
"Stop, stop it. You can't-- I don't want this."
"I'll do anything to make it up to you," Gojyo carries on, not daring to stop in case it gives Mr Cho a chance to push him away. He looks right up into Mr Cho's eyes and feels like he is turning inside out, that everything inside him is on display. Maybe it is, because Mr Cho is still staring as if he's never seen Gojyo before. His mouth is pink and soft looking and is hanging open a little.
Gojyo shuts up, because his mouth won't work properly any more. He's amazed he's got this far. Mr Cho hasn't hit him or pushed him away, but is just staring at him. His hands are still tight over Gojyo's. They feel sweaty against his skin. Gojyo digs his fingers into the muscles of Mr Cho's leg, kneading. He wets his lips and Mr Cho lets out a shaking breath.
"Gojyo," he begins, then stops. "Oh god. You shouldn't be doing this. You-- "
Gojyo shakes his head and pushes his hands up further and it's as if all the strength has gone from Mr Cho's arms, because he doesn't stop him.
"I want it," Gojyo says, unable to look away.
It comes out as a whisper because his throat is so dry. He slides his hands further. He can see that Mr Cho is hard. His cock is tenting his pants and whatever he says about not wanting this, Gojyo knows it must be a lie.
"What do you think you want?" Mr Cho says and now his hands are back on Gojyo's, fingers tangling with his to stop him. Their hand clench tight together. "You don't know what-- "
"I want to suck your cock," Gojyo says straight out. "Will you let me? Oh god, Mr Cho. Please let me. I want you so much."
He's babbling. It can't be sexy. He leans forward with a groan and presses his face into Mr Cho's lap. Mr Cho freezes. He can feel how still his body is, how tight his muscles are.
"You don't know what you're asking," Mr Cho says, in a low, rough voice he's never heard before. "Do you?"
He doesn't know what he's supposed to say now and he's sure Mr Cho knows this. Mr Cho is still hard. He wants me, Gojyo thinks, blindly, and it drives him on. He presses his mouth, open and wet, to the stiff bulge and mouths it through the cloth, licking it and wetting it, feeling the hard, hot ridge of it under his tongue. Mr Cho jerks underneath him and now he's pulling him back by the hair. There is silence that seems to last minutes, but can only be seconds. Mr Cho's hand tightens in his hair until it's painful.
"Stop," Mr Cho hisses. "Right now."
"Mr Cho," Gojyo says, because he has no idea what he is doing or what is going to happen now. Does Mr Cho expect him to get up and leave? Stay? "I want you," he says, his mouth dry.
"Shut up."
Gojyo's cock jerks and heat rushes to his cheeks. Even though Mr Cho says those words, his gaze is locked on Gojyo and he's not getting up or running away. Gojyo feels like it's just the two of them in the entire world and no one else exists. Nothing else matters. His heart is beating so hard he can feel the thump on his ribs. Mr Cho hasn't thrown him out yet.
The roots of his hair are screaming as Mr Cho drags him back and away, hard. Gojyo stares up frozen. This is it. He's going to be expelled, hit, something. Mr Cho has one hand in Gojyo's hair and the other clamped round his fingers, but that leaves Gojyo able to drag his other hand free. He pushes it between Mr Cho's thighs and strokes hard along the length of his erection, feeling its heat under his palm.
Mr Cho closes his eyes, just for a moment, then groans as if in pain when Gojyo squeezes his cock. It twitches under his palm and Gojyo moans and strains closer. Mr Cho's eyes are wide and green and as Gojyo watches, working his hand harder, the shock in them melts into something else. Something dark and hard that makes Gojyo's stomach flip. He shivers and the hand in his hair relaxes. Mr Cho draws him closer.
"God," Mr Cho says, and if it's a prayer, no one answers him. "Please."
"I'll do anything," Gojyo pants, licking his lips and straining forward. "Anything for you."
Mr Cho takes a breath and his fingers curl around the back of Gojyo's neck. Gojyo's heart starts to hammer. It's going to happen. Mr Cho groans and then Gojyo's head is pushed down and Mr Cho is tugging at his own belt, popping open his button and yanking the zipper down, pushing aside his underwear and pulling his cock out. Gojyo whimpers, unable to keep quiet, as Mr Cho presses it to his lips, hand sliding to cup the back of his head.
"Be quiet," Mr Cho says.
"Sorry," Gojyo whispers and feels Mr Cho jerk a little as he breathes on the smooth, warm skin of his erection.
He does it again, licking along its length and Mr Cho makes his own sound then. Fingers tangle in Gojyo's hair, tugging his head down further, closer. He breathes in deep, feeling hair brush against his lips. He mouths the base of Mr Cho's cock, letting his tongue curl round the shaft.
"Have you done this before?" Mr Cho whispers. Gojyo looks up and nods, careful not to speak. His tongue is still curled around the base. "Oh god. Oh Gojyo. You're so-- " His voice is so soft, almost a breath, as he guides Gojyo's lips towards the head of his cock. "Suck it. Suck me."
Gojyo braces his hand on Mr Cho's thigh and sucks and licks and lets Mr Cho push into his mouth. He takes it as deep as he can, and what he can't suck he strokes with his fist. Mr Cho's cock is hot under his tongue and feels almost impossibly hard. Gojyo can't keep quiet; he has to let out a faint moan when Mr Cho stokes fingers over his cheek and tells him to take it all the way. He can't, but he dips his head and tries anyway. Mr Cho slouches further down in his chair, his breath coming hard and fast as his thighs spread, letting Gojyo lean in close.
"Gojyo," he says, panting. "Are you touching yourself?"
"Nnnh," and Gojyo shakes his head.
"I want you to. Stroke yourself."
He can’t get his pants undone fast enough. Mr Cho leans forward a little to watch, his hands stoking over Gojyo's head and down to his neck, holding him close. He leans further and Gojyo can feel his mouth pressing against his hair, and then fingers dipping into the neck of his t-shirt. Mr Cho is touching him and he only wants more. It's not enough. Gojyo pants around the erection filling his mouth. He is shaking and it's too hard to keep his hand moving in any kind of rhythm, so he concentrates on Mr Cho and jerks himself as best he can as Mr Cho watches.
It doesn't take long, not like that. From Mr Cho's harsh breaths and the way his cock is pulsing against his lips he's getting off on it too. Muffled sounds escape from Gojyo's mouth as he comes-- he can't help it.
"Gojyo, Gojyo," Mr Cho says. He's pushing it in, his hips thrusting up, twisting under Gojyo hands.
Gojyo looks up, meets those hot, wide eyes and then his mouth is flooding with Mr Cho's come, salt and warm and thick, spurting over and over. He manages to swallow it down, all the while with Mr Cho touching him, his face, his hair, hands on his neck and smoothing over his jaw.
"You-- " and Mr Cho stops and shuts his eyes again. He slowly straightens up and his hands fall away. Gojyo wants them back, but he gets the message. He sits back on his heels and wipes his mouth. Mr Cho fumbles out a handkerchief and hands it to him.
Outside in the corridor there is no sound, as if the entire world is either listening to them or ignoring them. Gojyo is not sure he cares which anymore, but Mr Cho probably does. Gojyo watches as he zips himself back up and smoothes his hair back into place. His mouth is red and strands of dark hair stick to his forehead.
"It's okay," he offers, because Mr Cho is bound to be worried. "I won't tell anyone. I promise."
He doesn't get the pleased reaction he was hoping for. Mr Cho's shoulders sag as if he is very tired, and his face looks older, suddenly. He puts a hand on Gojyo's shoulder and squeezes, hard.
"No. I know. Thank you, Gojyo. You'd better go home now."
"Right." He gets up, feeling like he should say something else, not just leave like this. His knees are shaky and his thigh muscles tremble. "D'you need me to-- "
"Just go. Please."
Looking back over his shoulder he sees Mr Cho still in his chair, at his desk, just as if he has been marking papers. Gojyo stops with his hand on the door.
"Will I see you tomorrow?" he asks, because he can't keep it in.
Mr Cho looks up, and then, slowly, he nods.
Fandom: Saiyuki
Pairing: Hakkai/Gojyo
Warnings: explicit m/m sex, PWP
Notes: this story probably needs a little background before you read it. I am writing an AU story with
emungere, where Gojyo is in the last year of high school and has an unrequited crush on his English teacher, Mr Cho, who is ten years older than him and is the only teacher who has ever bothered to take an interest in Gojyo and his less than happy home life. In that story, Mr Cho is very responsible and would never dream of taking advantage of a student. So naturally I began to wonder what it would be like if our Mr Cho was not so nice, and then very wrong student/teacher smut happened. In this story he really is very bad. Gojyo is seventeen and Mr Cho is ten years older.Many thanks to
emungere and new_kate for encouragement and beta. So, onto the fic of wrong...Time passes, each second slower than the last. 2.55pm. 2.56pm. His eyes are on the clock, and his mind is not on the assignment Mrs Jeffries is giving out. The bell rings so he shoves his books away with fingers that are cold at the tips and palms that are lightly filmed with sweat. He's queasy with waiting.
He walks along the corridor to Mr Cho's office. It gets quieter the further he goes, fewer students, less hubbub, the blue linoleum squeaking under his sneakers. Mr Cho's office has a wooden door with a small white plaque. It has 'Head of English' printed on it. The lights are off: he's not there.
Gojyo lets himself in. He has always liked the smell of this room: pencil shavings and paper and ink, the faint chemical scent of recently-replaced carpet. Mr Cho's desk stands in one corner, next to a wall of bookshelves and a tall grey filing cabinet. There is a window behind the desk, but the blinds are drawn, making the room dim. In the opposite corner are more bookshelves, and stacks of books and papers. He rests his backpack against the wall under the coat peg near the door, and goes to the corner opposite Mr Cho's desk, facing the door. He kneels down.
His throat is so dry he can hardly swallow and that won't do at all, he thinks. He wipes his palms on his thighs and wants to undo his pants. He is shaking with the thought of what's going to happen. His face is hot, his hands cold.
There are footsteps in the corridor, slow and deliberate. When the door handle creaks and the door swings open, Gojyo's heart begins to beat so fast he thinks he might faint. He has to breathe deep, but softly, so that Mr Cho won’t know.
Mr Cho looks at the backpack, but he doesn't look at Gojyo. He walks in, then turns to lock the door, metal on metal making a smooth, oiled clicking sound. With one quick movement he closes the blinds and they rattle down. Still he doesn’t speak, or even look Gojyo's way.
The floor is hard, but Gojyo truly doesn't mind it. He thinks he can pick up Mr Cho's scent from here and he opens his mouth and wets his lips, getting as much moisture on his tongue as he can manage. If he had to speak he doesn't think anything would come out but a squeak, but luckily, speaking is not what Mr Cho wants. Not now. This isn't like in class.
He can’t look as Mr Cho moves to his desk, arranging his papers for tomorrow, taking things out of his briefcase. Gojyo hears the snap of the lock as he opens and then shuts it again a minute later, then the swish of fabric. Mr Cho is taking off his jacket. He knows, even without looking. His breath quickens and he strokes one palm over his erection, holding it, waiting. It will be soon.
Mr Cho's voice, when it comes, makes him jump even thought it is very soft.
"I'm glad you're here, Gojyo," he says, and now he's walking over, footsteps muffled on the carpet.
Gojyo feels like he can hear every tiny movement, ever breath, every crushed fibre, every rustle of Mr Cho's clothes. When Mr Cho actually touches him, sliding his fingers gently through Gojyo's hair, he is so sensitised that he almost makes a noise. He holds it in, because Mr Cho doesn’t like him to make a noise. Someone might overhear.
Mr Cho touches his hair, running it through his fingers for what seems like a long time to Gojyo. Gojyo looks up. He wants to press his face to Mr Cho's stomach, or put his arms round his waist. He wants the sharp taste of Mr Cho's cock on his tongue and can almost feel silky flesh filling his mouth, sliding over his lips. Gojyo's breath comes harder as Mr Cho touches his cheek.
"You're very, very beautiful," he says, with his fingertips on Gojyo's cheekbone, moving in tiny circles.
His fingers curl under Gojyo's jaw and his thumb slides over Gojyo's lower lip, pulling it down. Gojyo sucks it in without thinking. It makes Mr Cho draw in a breath. Mr Cho is staring at him, his lips curved in a very slight smile. His mouth is open a little and he looks like he does in class when he's reading something aloud; distracted and sort of pleased. Gojyo can’t get enough of looking at him. He feels his own eyes widen, as if by doing that he can somehow see him more or better. Mr Cho's dark hair frames his face and his eyes look shiny and almost black, even though Gojyo knows that in daylight they are deep green, like the bottom of a cool pond.
His mouth is on a level with Mr Cho's zipper, and from this angle he can see the thick line of his cock, stiff in his pants. He can even see the swell of his balls where the cloth is pulling, but he doesn't reach out like he wants to, not until Mr Cho says he can. He's been taught well.
Mr Cho pushes his thumb in and out, pressing down on Gojyo's tongue. His other hand is at his zipper now, tugging it down in two sharp movements. He breathes hard through his nose and pops open his belt and the top button of his trousers.
"I've had a very hard day, Gojyo," Mr Cho says then, and Gojyo nods, knowing Mr Cho will be expecting a response. "Lift your chin, please," he whispers and now Gojyo can hear the faint shudder in his breath.
Gojyo has to suck air in to stay calm, but under his own hand he's aching. Mr Cho is just pretending to be calm, he knows this. He's excited and turned on and he's going to fuck Gojyo's mouth like he'd been wanting to all day, ever since his cock left Gojyo's mouth yesterday, at about the same time. Gojyo's gut clenches with lust.
Mr Cho takes his cock out with one hand and holds it, stroking lightly with his whole fist clenched around it. A drop of clear liquid squeezes from its slit and stands there against the swollen purple head. Yesterday Mr Cho wiped it on Gojyo's lips and got him to kiss the head, just like he wanted to kiss Mr Cho, with lips and tongue and licking until Mr Cho had groaned, loud, breaking his own rule, and had shoved in deep and fast.
Mr Cho takes his thumb away and instead cups the back of Gojyo's neck, fingers stroking quicker now over his skin and Gojyo can feel them shaking. Mr Cho wants to fuck his face so much, Gojyo knows. He knows because Mr Cho tells him so when Gojyo's lips are stretched tight around his cock, his voice low and rough, nothing like how he sounds in class.
"I want you," Mr Cho says now. "God, I want you. Open your mouth."
With his words, his fingers tighten on Gojyo's neck, drawing his head closer so quickly he has to shuffle on his knees or fall forward. Mr Cho steps forward too and Gojyo watches his fingers uncurl from around his cock, until he's holding it to Gojyo's mouth, offering it to his open lips. They're very close now and Gojyo's breath is coming so fast he thinks he might choke if he tries to suck him.
He does it anyway, licking out with his tongue. Mr Cho wants it, so he'll do it. Mr Cho wants him, his special student. His favourite.
The arrangement is simple. Gojyo stops by after school and waits, if Mr Cho isn't here. He's not to switch the lights on or make a noise. Kneeling in readiness is good. Mr Cho likes him to be ready, because sometimes he comes straight over once he's through the door and is unzipped and pushing into his mouth before Gojyo can properly even think about what is happening. Those times, Mr Cho might pull out after a few moments and kiss him, soft and… loving.
Thinking that right now, with Mr Cho's dick at the back of his throat, Gojyo whimpers and looks up.
"Please?" he mumbles, around his mouthful, and Mr Cho gasps and then nods.
Gojyo unzips himself and wraps his palm around his own cock. Mr Cho drags a handkerchief out of his pocket and drops it at Gojyo's feet.
"Catch it all this time," he murmurs, then strokes Gojyo's hair away from his face when he nods. "Good boy," he says. He guides Gojyo's head back, off his cock. "Will you do it slowly today? Make it last for me," except as he says it his cockhead is rubbing over Gojyo's lips impatiently.
"Of course," Gojyo breathes, leaning forward to kiss his stomach where it is exposed.
"Such a good student," Mr Cho says, his voice tight. "What else can I teach you, I wonder?"
He hooks his fingers in Mr Cho's underwear and pulls them down a little, freeing his balls. It just takes one lick across them, firm and wet, and Mr Cho buries his hands in his hair and presses Gojyo's face to his cock. They stay still like that for maybe a minute, until all Gojyo can feel is his own heartbeat thudding in his ears. Mr Cho is rubbing the wet tip of his erection across Gojyo's cheek.
Like this, it’s hard to imagine he'll see Mr Cho in class tomorrow and get no more than an almost-smile and a friendly look at the end of the lesson. There will be no hint of lust in Mr Cho's eyes, even though Gojyo will be looking for it, hoping. Mr Cho is a good actor. So is Gojyo, by now.
"Lick it," Mr Cho says now, and Gojyo obeys.
He breathes hot over it, because that makes Mr Cho clench his fists and jerk his hips. He licks long wet stripes along the underside of his cock, feeling the big vein pulse on the flat of his tongue. He sucks the head of his cock, letting his teeth graze over the firm ridges there, just hard enough for Mr Cho to swear, fuck, yes, soft and low into the quiet room.
Mr Cho never uses language like that. He has punished Gojyo before now for cursing, punished him hard, over the desk, papers slipping everywhere and Mr Cho's palm wrapped over his mouth in case Gojyo cried out.
Blood thrums in his ears now, at the memory. They hadn’t done it again, because it had gotten out of hand and Gojyo was sure the fast thudthudthud of Mr Cho's desk as he'd fucked Gojyo's ass must have been audible in the hallway. He'd come first, helplessly spurting all over Mr Cho's hand, and Mr Cho had had him lap it from his fingers, teeth sharp on Gojyo's ear and breath hot and panting as he came, voice twisting round Gojyo's name.
But that won’t happen today and he is mostly glad. He doesn't want Mr Cho to lose his job. But if he did, it would mean that Gojyo could be waiting upstairs in Mr Cho's bedroom instead, naked on the bed. He is sure Mr Cho would want that. So sure. He has never dared ask.
"Gojyo," Mr Cho is whispering now, as Gojyo takes his cock deeper into his mouth. "Oh, Gojyo, yes," he says, so soft and gentle.
It's a bewildering contrast to his grabbing fingers and the way his erection is so hard in Gojyo's mouth that it feels almost unreal. He loves it like this, when Mr Cho can be thinking about him and only him. He sucks it harder, getting messy now as he touches himself, letting his tongue curl around the head as he moves his lips up and down his shaft, keeping them tight.
When he takes a deep breath and takes Mr Cho's cock so deep it's actually in his throat, Mr Cho groans and eases Gojyo's head closer, until Gojyo's lips are touching the root, and wiry hair is brushing his lips. Gojyo can't hold it for long, but he wants to, wants to give Mr Cho the best blowjob he's ever had. Salt water rolls out of his eyes and when Mr Cho pulls out he leans down to kiss him on the mouth, hard and fast, tongue licking over Gojyo's lips. He smiles and Gojyo smiles back, meeting his eyes.
He wants to wrap his arms round him and cling on, say stupid things into his smooth skin, make Mr Cho admit he feels the same way. Instead he draws Mr Cho's hips closer with his hands and takes him in his mouth again, licking and sucking, wet and sloppy, until he feels it: the throb and the pulse of Mr Cho's cock getting even harder, his hips jerking under Gojyo's palms as he says Gojyo's name, low and rough and needy, a steady chant that someone might overhear.
Gojyo has been ready to come ever since Mr Cho kissed him. He wants to try and time it with swallowing, but he can't help working himself faster, feeling the clench in his balls as Mr Cho's hands spread, almost gentle, over the back of his head. The wet sounds they are making together are almost enough, with Mr Cho moaning his name over and over, cock deep in his mouth, thrusting and coming-- oh god, yes, please-- coming down Gojyo's throat, filling his mouth until he chokes it down. His own cock jerks and he scrabbles for the handkerchief, catching his own come as it spurts out, pleasure piercing him until he has to squeeze his eyes shut and gasp and pull his head back so he can breathe.
Mr Cho is standing still and breathing hard, his hands on Gojyo's head.
"Come along-- stand up," Mr Cho says, taking a deep, shaky breath.
He holds out his hand and pulls Gojyo to his feet, then enfolds him in his arms, just for a second or two. His hands stray down to Gojyo's ass and squeeze it, and his lips land on Gojyo's neck, nipping hard enough to make him gasp. Gojyo puts his arms round his neck. He wants to tuck his face in there and just breathe, but there isn’t time. They don’t linger here, even if they are both red faced and still breathing hard. Mr Cho is licking his skin now, like he is trying to memorise Gojyo's taste. He is smoothing his palms in circles on Gojyo's ass and oh god, Gojyo could go again almost straight away. His cock twitches, and when Mr Cho eases him back with firm hands on his shoulders he almost says something-- he might beg if Mr Cho doesn't send him away soon.
"Oh, Gojyo," Mr Cho says, looking into his eyes.
A worry line creases between his eyes and he smooth a strand of hair back from Gojyo's forehead.
"Don't worry," Gojyo says, because he doesn't know what else to say. "Please."
He reaches up to touch Mr Cho's lips. Mr Cho's face changes then. He pulls Gojyo close once more and it takes a moment for Gojyo to realise that Mr Cho wants to kiss him. He's breathing heavily against Gojyo's lips.
The kiss is intoxicating, hot and wet and violent and gentle in a way Gojyo can scarcely understand. He can feel Mr Cho's teeth scraping over his lips and his tongue as it slides hard against his own. Mr Cho pulls back suddenly, with a sound almost like he's in pain. He spans his fingers on either side of Gojyo's face, thumbs curling over his cheeks, just holding him as he presses their foreheads together.
"I can't get enough of you," Mr Cho says, and then one hand moves, travelling down to squeeze Gojyo's still-hard cock. "Gojyo," he breathes, rubbing him.
It's what Gojyo wants to hear. They both groan and Gojyo knows, even as his thoughts scatter, that they are in danger here, somehow-- this is not like all the other times. Mr Cho has never said anything like that before. He wants to hear it again, over and over, Mr Cho telling him that as he fucks him, rolling naked together in Mr Cho's bed-- a place he has never been.
"Take me home with you," he blurts, then bites his lip on it hard, wishing he'd kept it in.
Mr Cho doesn't answer and Gojyo is almost glad, because he doesn’t think he can deal with the 'no'. Mr Cho kisses him again, palm flat and hot on his cock, rubbing harder.
"What would it take to exhaust you?" he whispers, smiling, as he kisses Gojyo's lips softly, small clinging touches that drive Gojyo wild for more. Mr Cho licks at his lips with the tip of his tongue, slipping between them as Gojyo moans, and Gojyo knows he is being teased. Mr Cho can have whatever he wants, when he wants it. It's not the same for Gojyo.
"Please," Gojyo says, fisting his hands in the back of Mr Cho's shirt.
"Gojyo, if I took you home," and there are more kisses, harder now, wetter and deeper, "I'd never want to let you go."
"Oh," Gojyo gasps, his breath hitching. "Oh."
In the Beginning
"Gojyo."
Mr Cho's voice is sharp, unusually so. He is sitting behind his desk in his office as Gojyo wanders past. School has been over for ten minutes and if asked, Gojyo would say he was on his way to watch football practise.
"Oh, hi," Gojyo says, turning, with his best smile, the one that never fails to work on either the cheerleaders or, sometimes, the football players.
Mr Cho is not immune to him; he knows this from the way Mr Cho's eyes widen slightly and the way his gaze flicks from Gojyo's face to his body when he turns the smile on Mr Cho. If he blinked he'd miss it, but he doesn't blink. Gojyo is hunting for signs, any sign.
Mr Cho-- and he can hardly bring himself to think this-- is beautiful. Beautiful, he repeats silently, secretly. He watches Mr Cho's mouth move when he talks, and watches his ass as he walks. He wants to be able to touch him with his lips, his hands, his cock. He knows he wants this, and it terrifies him, as do the slender, eagerly hoarded clues that Mr Cho might want it too. Yet he can't seem to stay away.
He has no idea what Mr Cho thinks about him, not really. He knows Gojyo as the boy who always hands his homework in late, or is half asleep in class, or says dumb things about poetry. It's not that Gojyo doesn’t try, but most of his energy goes on getting his mom takes her tablets on time and making sure no one guesses exactly how bad things are with him.
Gojyo wants Mr Cho to remember him for more than that. He wants to be the one who Mr Cho wants to talk to, the one he asks back after class, to be with. When he tries to imagine what being with would consist of, he can see sharp images of himself kissing Mr Cho, of them naked and touching each other, Mr Cho smiling at him in that cool way, like he thinks Gojyo is special.
Sometimes he catches Mr Cho watching him. Mr Cho always looks away, but sometimes he flushes, very faintly. Gojyo takes it as a good sign. Right now, he turns his smile up another notch and leans against Mr Cho's door, cocking his hip. Look at me, he wills.
"Is everything okay?" he says.
Mr Cho stares at him for a second, then shakes his head.
"Come in, please," he says. "I’d like to have a word about your work."
Mr Cho isn't smiling at him today. Gojyo's heart drops and he comes in and sits, putting his backpack at his feet. It's the first time he's been in here. It's quiet and tidy and smells of schoolbooks. It's also very quiet. Mr Cho gets up and shuts the door and Gojyo's heart jumps.
"What's-- is anything wrong?" Gojyo says, worried now.
Shutting the door is serious. Mr Cho isn't smiling at him like he usually does. Instead his mouth is turned down at the corners and he is frowning. He sits down at his desk and sighs.
"I don't understand, Gojyo," he says, sounding flat. "I'm very disappointed in you."
"What?" Gojyo says. His own voice sounds small and confused. It's how he himself feels.
"Why do you come to school?" Mr Cho asks, meeting his eyes.
They are intense green, with thick dark lashes, the kind that girls always want. Gojyo finds he is staring into them and he has no idea what to say. He doesn’t even know what Mr Cho is asking.
"I-- I-- because I have to?" he offers.
It's the wrong answer, even though it's true. Mr Cho purses his lips and shakes his head.
"To learn. For me to teach you." He takes a stack of papers from a folder on his desk. Gojyo recognises his own handwriting. "You're not only letting yourself down Gojyo, but you're letting me down as well. You've a very good mind and I want to see you use it. Not copy your work from others."
"I didn't," Gojyo says, even though he did.
"Please don't lie to me."
"Sorry-- Mr Cho, I'm--- " and he stops, red faced.
"Unfortunately I've heard you say that before," Mr Cho says. "I can assume you are lying to me again."
Mr Cho sounds like he doesn't care anymore. This isn't right. This isn't how it is supposed to be. Mr Cho is supposed to like him, and to say kind things.
"I'm not! I'll do better next time. I promise."
He'll promise anything, do anything, he realises, and it's not even a surprise to know this. He wants Mr Cho to be smiling at him again. He wants Mr Cho. He desperately wants Mr Cho to want him back.
"Gojyo, why should I believe you?" Mr Cho sits back and rubs at his forehead like he's getting a headache, as if he's had enough of this conversation and wants to go.
Gojyo can't speak for a moment. He can't think of a single reason that he can say out loud. He can't bear Mr Cho's disappointment. He thinks this but doesn't say it, because a terrible, wonderful idea has burst into his mind. He feels his own hands start to shake and he blinks, feeling almost queasy, then stands up.
"I haven't said you can leave," Mr Cho says, watching him, his brows creasing.
"I'm not," he says, almost gasping with the effort of speaking. "I want to do better," he stammers. "I want to be good."
He can't believe he is going to do this. What if Mr Cho throws him out or calls his mom, or both? He might be expelled. He finds he doesn't care enough, not with Mr Cho watching him, mouth open and eyes wide as Gojyo walks around his desk and sinks to his knees at Mr Cho's feet. He feels free suddenly, like he has done the worst he can do. Mr Cho is staring at him, hands gripping the wooden arms of his chair. Gojyo sees his eyes flick to the door, but it is still firmly closed. Then he looks back at Gojyo.
"What do you think you're doing?" Mr Cho says.
He is breathing too fast, Gojyo notices.
"Please don't be angry with me," Gojyo says, hardly even thinking about the words. He means them, but they don't seem important, not with Mr Cho so close. Gojyo puts a hand on his knee and stares up. "I can't stand it. I'm sorry."
He means it too. He doesn't want Mr Cho to get in to trouble, but he can't seem to stop. He slides his hands up Mr Cho's thighs. They are firm and warm under his hands and his palms make a soft noise on the wool of Mr Cho's pants. Mr Cho claps his hands down on Gojyo's as they reach mid-thigh.
"Stop, stop it. You can't-- I don't want this."
"I'll do anything to make it up to you," Gojyo carries on, not daring to stop in case it gives Mr Cho a chance to push him away. He looks right up into Mr Cho's eyes and feels like he is turning inside out, that everything inside him is on display. Maybe it is, because Mr Cho is still staring as if he's never seen Gojyo before. His mouth is pink and soft looking and is hanging open a little.
Gojyo shuts up, because his mouth won't work properly any more. He's amazed he's got this far. Mr Cho hasn't hit him or pushed him away, but is just staring at him. His hands are still tight over Gojyo's. They feel sweaty against his skin. Gojyo digs his fingers into the muscles of Mr Cho's leg, kneading. He wets his lips and Mr Cho lets out a shaking breath.
"Gojyo," he begins, then stops. "Oh god. You shouldn't be doing this. You-- "
Gojyo shakes his head and pushes his hands up further and it's as if all the strength has gone from Mr Cho's arms, because he doesn't stop him.
"I want it," Gojyo says, unable to look away.
It comes out as a whisper because his throat is so dry. He slides his hands further. He can see that Mr Cho is hard. His cock is tenting his pants and whatever he says about not wanting this, Gojyo knows it must be a lie.
"What do you think you want?" Mr Cho says and now his hands are back on Gojyo's, fingers tangling with his to stop him. Their hand clench tight together. "You don't know what-- "
"I want to suck your cock," Gojyo says straight out. "Will you let me? Oh god, Mr Cho. Please let me. I want you so much."
He's babbling. It can't be sexy. He leans forward with a groan and presses his face into Mr Cho's lap. Mr Cho freezes. He can feel how still his body is, how tight his muscles are.
"You don't know what you're asking," Mr Cho says, in a low, rough voice he's never heard before. "Do you?"
He doesn't know what he's supposed to say now and he's sure Mr Cho knows this. Mr Cho is still hard. He wants me, Gojyo thinks, blindly, and it drives him on. He presses his mouth, open and wet, to the stiff bulge and mouths it through the cloth, licking it and wetting it, feeling the hard, hot ridge of it under his tongue. Mr Cho jerks underneath him and now he's pulling him back by the hair. There is silence that seems to last minutes, but can only be seconds. Mr Cho's hand tightens in his hair until it's painful.
"Stop," Mr Cho hisses. "Right now."
"Mr Cho," Gojyo says, because he has no idea what he is doing or what is going to happen now. Does Mr Cho expect him to get up and leave? Stay? "I want you," he says, his mouth dry.
"Shut up."
Gojyo's cock jerks and heat rushes to his cheeks. Even though Mr Cho says those words, his gaze is locked on Gojyo and he's not getting up or running away. Gojyo feels like it's just the two of them in the entire world and no one else exists. Nothing else matters. His heart is beating so hard he can feel the thump on his ribs. Mr Cho hasn't thrown him out yet.
The roots of his hair are screaming as Mr Cho drags him back and away, hard. Gojyo stares up frozen. This is it. He's going to be expelled, hit, something. Mr Cho has one hand in Gojyo's hair and the other clamped round his fingers, but that leaves Gojyo able to drag his other hand free. He pushes it between Mr Cho's thighs and strokes hard along the length of his erection, feeling its heat under his palm.
Mr Cho closes his eyes, just for a moment, then groans as if in pain when Gojyo squeezes his cock. It twitches under his palm and Gojyo moans and strains closer. Mr Cho's eyes are wide and green and as Gojyo watches, working his hand harder, the shock in them melts into something else. Something dark and hard that makes Gojyo's stomach flip. He shivers and the hand in his hair relaxes. Mr Cho draws him closer.
"God," Mr Cho says, and if it's a prayer, no one answers him. "Please."
"I'll do anything," Gojyo pants, licking his lips and straining forward. "Anything for you."
Mr Cho takes a breath and his fingers curl around the back of Gojyo's neck. Gojyo's heart starts to hammer. It's going to happen. Mr Cho groans and then Gojyo's head is pushed down and Mr Cho is tugging at his own belt, popping open his button and yanking the zipper down, pushing aside his underwear and pulling his cock out. Gojyo whimpers, unable to keep quiet, as Mr Cho presses it to his lips, hand sliding to cup the back of his head.
"Be quiet," Mr Cho says.
"Sorry," Gojyo whispers and feels Mr Cho jerk a little as he breathes on the smooth, warm skin of his erection.
He does it again, licking along its length and Mr Cho makes his own sound then. Fingers tangle in Gojyo's hair, tugging his head down further, closer. He breathes in deep, feeling hair brush against his lips. He mouths the base of Mr Cho's cock, letting his tongue curl round the shaft.
"Have you done this before?" Mr Cho whispers. Gojyo looks up and nods, careful not to speak. His tongue is still curled around the base. "Oh god. Oh Gojyo. You're so-- " His voice is so soft, almost a breath, as he guides Gojyo's lips towards the head of his cock. "Suck it. Suck me."
Gojyo braces his hand on Mr Cho's thigh and sucks and licks and lets Mr Cho push into his mouth. He takes it as deep as he can, and what he can't suck he strokes with his fist. Mr Cho's cock is hot under his tongue and feels almost impossibly hard. Gojyo can't keep quiet; he has to let out a faint moan when Mr Cho stokes fingers over his cheek and tells him to take it all the way. He can't, but he dips his head and tries anyway. Mr Cho slouches further down in his chair, his breath coming hard and fast as his thighs spread, letting Gojyo lean in close.
"Gojyo," he says, panting. "Are you touching yourself?"
"Nnnh," and Gojyo shakes his head.
"I want you to. Stroke yourself."
He can’t get his pants undone fast enough. Mr Cho leans forward a little to watch, his hands stoking over Gojyo's head and down to his neck, holding him close. He leans further and Gojyo can feel his mouth pressing against his hair, and then fingers dipping into the neck of his t-shirt. Mr Cho is touching him and he only wants more. It's not enough. Gojyo pants around the erection filling his mouth. He is shaking and it's too hard to keep his hand moving in any kind of rhythm, so he concentrates on Mr Cho and jerks himself as best he can as Mr Cho watches.
It doesn't take long, not like that. From Mr Cho's harsh breaths and the way his cock is pulsing against his lips he's getting off on it too. Muffled sounds escape from Gojyo's mouth as he comes-- he can't help it.
"Gojyo, Gojyo," Mr Cho says. He's pushing it in, his hips thrusting up, twisting under Gojyo hands.
Gojyo looks up, meets those hot, wide eyes and then his mouth is flooding with Mr Cho's come, salt and warm and thick, spurting over and over. He manages to swallow it down, all the while with Mr Cho touching him, his face, his hair, hands on his neck and smoothing over his jaw.
"You-- " and Mr Cho stops and shuts his eyes again. He slowly straightens up and his hands fall away. Gojyo wants them back, but he gets the message. He sits back on his heels and wipes his mouth. Mr Cho fumbles out a handkerchief and hands it to him.
Outside in the corridor there is no sound, as if the entire world is either listening to them or ignoring them. Gojyo is not sure he cares which anymore, but Mr Cho probably does. Gojyo watches as he zips himself back up and smoothes his hair back into place. His mouth is red and strands of dark hair stick to his forehead.
"It's okay," he offers, because Mr Cho is bound to be worried. "I won't tell anyone. I promise."
He doesn't get the pleased reaction he was hoping for. Mr Cho's shoulders sag as if he is very tired, and his face looks older, suddenly. He puts a hand on Gojyo's shoulder and squeezes, hard.
"No. I know. Thank you, Gojyo. You'd better go home now."
"Right." He gets up, feeling like he should say something else, not just leave like this. His knees are shaky and his thigh muscles tremble. "D'you need me to-- "
"Just go. Please."
Looking back over his shoulder he sees Mr Cho still in his chair, at his desk, just as if he has been marking papers. Gojyo stops with his hand on the door.
"Will I see you tomorrow?" he asks, because he can't keep it in.
Mr Cho looks up, and then, slowly, he nods.
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Date: 2006-05-15 11:26 am (UTC)