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“You know, Artie,” Alfred said, voice muffled by the cotton shirt currently being ripped over his head and knocking his glasses askew, “You can be a real underhanded bastard sometimes.” He blinked Arthur’s face into view, regretfully removing his fingers from the warm push of Arthur’s hips into the span of his hands to slide his glasses into the ideal position for admiring the smug twist of of the smile he was just about to kiss.
“I’m certain I don’t know what you mean,” Arthur taunted, shameless palm pressed to Alfred’s naked chest and pushing him down, down, down to the softness of the bed they’d abandoned in favor of a too hot stadium and three hundred excited no-longer undergraduates. Arthur’s lips were on his ear and he could feel the low, rumble of satisfied laughter Alfred recognized from all the times Arthur’s papers had been selected for publication, the happy sound of confidence with just a splash of arrogance.
Alfred pushed up on his elbows and slid a thigh between the knees that spread over his waist, grinning as he titled his neck to make room for Arthur’s stubborn impatient mouth. “For someone who makes a living interpreting other people’s meanings, you sure are being obtuse today, Professor Kirkland.” He wrapped an arm around Arthur’s back and tumbled him over, pinning clutching hands that would have their way sooner or later to pillows and licking the unrepentant lips that hadn’t cared to play by the rules while they’d sat on the commencement stage in dignified robes.
“Really, Artie,” Alfred murmured, pressing his fingers into the fragility of a wrist and his tongue against the humming of a pulse, tracing the circuitry of Arthur’s desire, “Telling me you want to suck my cock in the midst of Germania’s speech on the importance of higher education in today’s challenging economy is just playing dirty.”
“You were the one who forbade me from more elegant expressions of my intentions,” Arthur said roughly, his brows creeping up his forehead with the ever expanding curve of his wicked smirk and Alfred wondered why he’d waited so damned long to see a face like this waiting for him on his pillow. Arthur arched into the push of Alfred’s hips, the strain of his cock hard and unmistakable against Alfred’s thigh. “Once more, due to your obstinate idiocy, I was forced to resort to more plain spoken measures.”
Alfred smiled and kissed Arthur’s scorn, biting lips that bitched with far too much enjoyment and licking away his taunts as he thought of the plainly written letter ofI love youtucked carefully away in his wallet. And as Arthur moaned into his mouth and the skin of his wrists slipped soft and sweet between Alfred’s fingers, legs spreading to the heavy drape of Alfred’s body, he knew that he liked all the many ways Arthur spoke to him.
“But now its summer,” Arthur whispered in his ear, that low voice curling thick and hot in his chest, “And you have no more excuses, no more reasons to avoid your studies, Mr. Jones.”
Alfred groaned delightedly and slid one hand down the plane of Arthur’s chest to palm a hard cock through wrinkled khaki pants, taking note of just how damned much Arthur seemed to enjoy the idea of Alfred at the mercy of sonnet and stanza, hooked on his every word as surely as Alfred was hooked on the way black tea tasted on Arthur’s tongue when he stole kisses across the breakfast table.
“You’re kind of a slave driver, Arthur,” Alfred teased, finally granting the release of Arthur’s hands and graciously allowing himself to be rolled over so he could admire way Arthur settled primly between his bent knees and reached for the top button of Alfred’s pants.
“That’s Professor Kirkland, if you please,” Arthur answered haughtily, tip of his tongue flicking over the fullness of the bottom lip Alfred was definitely to bite as soon as he regained full use of his motor skills. But with each inch of skin that Arthur deigned to touch as Alfred lost his pants and his underpants, he became less inclined to move from the pillow, content to be spoiled by the rush of hands up his naked thighs and punished by a wicked voice that pondered his fate. “Now, how shall we begin?”
“Hmm,” Alfred mused, lacing his arms behind his head and watching the parting of greedy lips as he arched his hips to get just a little more of the brush of Arthur’s idle fingers over the tip of his cock. He smiled and lowered his gaze, “I think you should get undressed.” He paused, sweetening his words and fluttering his eyelashes like the girls that sat in the front row of his readings and had the naughty daydreams that were now his very lucky reality as he filed his request, “Professor Kirkland.”
Arthur made a low, rough noise that Alfred wanted breathed into his lips or better still murmured against the inside of his thigh.
“Being your slave, what should I do but tend upon the hours and times of your desire?*” Arthur said thickly, leaning across the expanse of Alfred’s chest as he shimmied off the pants Alfred never should have pestered him into wearing to cup Alfred’s chin and kiss him deeply.
Alfred hummed and sighed and happily parted his arms to welcome Arthur’s embrace, to feel the first, electric slide of bare skin on skin, and the hot, hard drag of Arthur’s cock between his legs. Arthur cradled his face and he cradled Arthur’s body and thought of the heart he carried, the heart that beat so undeniably against his own. The feeling of it all was so sweet and thick and lingering like the afternoon sunshine and the promise of summer.
“Kiss by kiss,” Arthur murmured, lips moving gently from his mouth to his chin, along the jaw that worked with each slow shift of Arthur’s hips, “I cover your tiny infinity.” Alfred arched into sudden rake of nails down the dip of his side to the flare of his waist, pinned by soft touch and spoken seduction, “Your margins, your rivers, your diminutive villages.**”
“Hey,” Alfred moaned, slipping his fingers into Arthur’s hair and breathing deeply against the warm, salted skin of his throat, “Are you trying to say I’m small?”
“Idiot.” Arthur laughed and abruptly curled the hand that had been on his hip around his cock and stroked, wrist twisting as Alfred pushed into the circle of his fist and decided he didn’t care so long as Arthur’s thumb kept brushing the the tip and Arthur’s teeth kept worrying the sharp ridge of his shoulder. “Mmm, I see that I’ll need to spend more time than I had thought teaching you all the nuances,” Arthur gasped as Alfred’s hand decided to join in on the fun, palm pressed between Arthur’s legs. “All the nuances of Neruda,” Arthur finished roughly.
“I’m all yours, sir,” Alfred said, breath already breaking on his words as he thought of hours spent tangled in sheets while the air conditioning hummed and Arthur poured poetry into his body. Arthur looked up, all green eyed intensity and messy hair and lips that needed to be kissed for seeming still so surprised. So Alfred kissed him and studied the way Arthur sighed and learned how best to slide his fingers up Arthur’s cock and down to the hidden softness of his thighs to earn that low, rough noise he craved.
Arthur drifted away, wet and reddened mouth listing down the tension of Alfred’s throat, lips too busy whispering words over his skin to be bothered with Alfred’s breathless kiss. “Hark close, and still, what I now whisper to you,” Arthur murmured, hair tickling his chest as the poet’s tongue traced circles over his nipples while Alfred struggled to listen to anything but the rushing of his heart, “I love you—oh, you entirely possess me.”
“I love you,” Alfred declared roughly, watching and feeling Arthur’s slow, deliberate progress down his body, his hand slipping reluctantly from Arthur’s cock as he shifted too far away to be touched. He smiled when Arthur peered at him, lips pursed over the dip of stomach and fingers stroking the fine hairs around his navel.
“From the act-poem of eyes, hands, lips, and bosoms,” Arthur intoned, kissing the cut of his hip bone and pushing his knees further and further apart until Alfred was struggling to prop on his elbows to behold the damned beautiful sight of Arthur spread shameless and bare between his legs. “From the cling of the trembling arm,” Arthur’s fingers dragged from the hollow of his knee to the junction of thigh and body, “From the bending curve and the clinch.”
Lips parted over the head of his cock and Alfred swallowed and dared to brush Arthur’s hair from his forehead, spellbound and lust-broken by the sound of Arthur’s voice and the richness of the words that painted his skin and the affectionate desire in the eyes that watched him watching. Those eyes closed softly and the words ceased as Alfred pressed his thumb against Arthur’s bottom lip in the breathless silence.
“From the hour of shining stars and dropping dews, from the night, a moment,” Arthur whispered, returning his gaze and the wicked sweetness of his smile to Alfred’s desperate attention as he cupped his hand between Alfred’s legs and ran his tongue up the curve of his cock, “I emerging, flitting out, celebrate you.***”
Arthur’s mouth was hot and wet and all things as wonderful as the words he’d spoken. His fingers curled around his cock and pressed into his thigh marked Alfred as surely as the teasing praise that Arthur had written down his body. and the slip and slide of his cock over a tongue that could undo him in so many ways was enough to make Alfred wish he were a poet so he could pin Arthur to the bend and growl in his ear just what it was to see those lips part around him and to feel the murmur of muffled sighs between his legs making him hard and desperate.
But Alfred was pretty sure that he’d get a failing grade if he tried to do anything more than grit out the syllables of Arthur’s name and and arch his hips into the hands that held him and the mouth that tasted him, making silent promises to take every opportunity to let Arthur teach him any damned thing he so desired. Arthur’s thumb brushed his balls and Arthur’s tongue curled around the tip of his cock and Alfred had no choice but to close his eyes and fall against the bed, too far gone to do more than think of arms that trembling and hands that clenched.
Arthur’s fingers tightened against his thighs as Alfred’s body writhed on the sheets, feet slipping and moans breaking with the filthy good slide of Arthur’s hot little mouth down his cock, taking him deep and sweet with each bob of his head. And as a single fingertip pressed against his ass and Arthur hummed low and rough, Alfred’s back bowed, control shattering over Arthur’s tongue and between his lips, come hot and thick as it hit his thighs and dotted his stomach.
Alfred opened his eyes to witness the wicked slide of Arthur’s fingers through the mess he made as the crawled up Alfred’s chest with a stained mouth that whispered hotly, “Drunk as drunk on turpentine from your open kisses, your wet body wedged between my wet body—****”
“Shut up,” Alfred growled, smiling as he panted and pushed one hand into Arthur’s hair, the other between the wedge of their wet bodies as he smothered Arthur’s poetry with a wild kiss and curled his shaking fingers around Arthur’s cock. He swallowed Arthur’s needy moan and tasted bitter salt as they kissed and he stroked, hard and fast and tight, wanting Arthur trembling and biting.
And for once in their very long acquaintance, Arthur obliged and scraped his teeth over Alfred’s chin and pushed his hips into the circle of Alfred’s fist. Alfred wound his arm around his waist and held him down as he stroked his cock and licked the sweat that beaded on his jaw. Alfred sighed and murmured his name, “Arthur,” and another name that had been Alfred’s for longer than he knew and that he wanted to share for all the hot, sweet days of summer.
“Dearest.”
Arthur’s body went taut and Alfred scrambled to press their lips together, needing to feel the rush of pleasure as Arthur spilled over the stroke of his fingers and came in his hand in his kiss, breathless and finally without words.
Alfred laughed and smiled as Arthur slumped against him, heavy and hot and still trembling just a little. Arthur glared at him with bleary eyes but pressed a lazy kiss to his cheek, snuggling in even closer, though their skin was sticky and warm, and Alfred decided that if Professor Prim and Proper was game for a lingering in the messy afterglow, he certainly had no complaints regarding the summer lesson plan.
“I see now why you get such good reviews,” Alfred murmured, trailing his fingers down the long line of Arthur’s back.
“Be quiet,” Arthur muttered sleepily, kissing his ear and pinching his side, “Or I’ll be forced to fail you.”
“So harsh, Artie,” Alfred teased, splaying his fingers over the curve of Arthur’s bottom and yawning contentedly, “Its a good thing I’m crazy about you or I’d have to consider dropping the course for such unnecessary roughness.”
Arthur raised his head from Alfred’s shoulder to kiss him gently, gaze soft and endearing from a face Alfred had known for so long. Arthur sighed and Alfred held him tightly.
“What’s up?” Alfred asked, lips moving over Arthur’s sigh.
“Nothing,” Arthur answered plainly, kissing him twice before laying his head once more on Alfred’s chest, eyes fluttering shut as he whispered, “And his arm lay around my breast, and that night I was happy.*****”