Pairing: Blaine/Jesse, Darren Criss/Jonathan Groff (it all makes sense in the end)
Warnings: rimming, pseudo-teacher/student, pseudo-underage (again, makes sense in the end.)
Summary: Blaine will do anything for an A
Author Notes: Based loosely off of an insanejournal storyline that I have. There are parts that are meant to be cheesy. Also, I suck at writing sex scenes but I did my best!
Blaine took a deep breath as he adjusted the strap of his messenger bag on his shoulder, before knocking softly at the door in front of him. By his last calculations he had another forty minutes of lunch left, followed by his study hall period, and hopefully he could have this matter settled within that time frame. The door swung open quickly, causing a sharp intake of breath of Blaine's part before revealing his professor.
"Mister Anderson? What can I help you with?"
No matter How much older the man might've been, Blaine still found Professor St James to be insanely handsome. Today was no exception. Tough his hair has lost the firm hold of its product from that morning, small curhls flying at the sides of his temples, his glasses slipping down his nose, the grey button down and black slacks looked amazing on him.
"Excuse me, Professor, I'm here to talk about my grade?" Blaine asked, feeling much smaller than usual with his teacher's presence looming over him. With a soft nod, Professor St James moved to the side and held the door open for him, Blaine stepped in, shoulders hunched softly, as he walked over to the desk. His hands, needing occupation, gripped at the leather step, tension and fear working its way out through his fingers roughly massaging the strap.
"What would you like to discuss, Mister Anderson?" the elder asked, slipping behind his desk and sliding into the chair. Blaine couldn't help but notice the way his fingers laced together, taking on an almost devious nature.
"Uh, I'm, well... Sir!" Blaine stammered, all of the rehearsals he'd done earlier that day, running through this conversation in his head over and over again, he couldn't remember a single thing he had wanted to say. "My mom used that mid term paper as an example in teaching her graduate classes, but here in high school it got a B?" Feeling his face flush with embarrassment, Blaine gripped tighter on to his strap, exhaling a harsh breath, his eyes flying around the room, trying to land on anything other than Professor St James.
"Favoritism. You're her son." The professor said, appearing insanely smug when Blaine dared to glance at him.
"I've aced almost every test, and you mark them with an 85 or less, I've done the math." The embarrassment was giving was to anger, and Blaine felt a surge of something else building up in his system.
"Miscalculation. Was that it, Mister Anderson? I'm a busy man."
Blaine felt hot with anger once more, simmering in his system, building up to a steady boil at the look on Professor St James's face, the way he was gently swinging from side to side as he looked up, but at the same time down, on him. The situation was riddled with potholes, but he wanted to pave everything over. "Professor St James, I will do anything for an A." He said, fiercely. Part of his rage came from knowing what he deserved, the other from wanting to see that look wiped off of his once favorite professor's face.
His comment made the professor stop and give him a look, curious, unbelieving, before he reached his cool demeanor once more, a slight raise to his eyebrow as he glanced in Blaine's direction. "Anything?" he asked, lacing his fingers together, a shit eating grin sliding into place across his features. Speechless, all Blaine could do was nod, a hitch in his breath. "Bend over my desk, anything, Anderson?"
"S-sir?" he asked, hating the higher pitch to his voice. He raised his eyes to his Professor's and seeing no yield in his eyes, he said, "yes, sir. Bend over your desk, anything." Professor St James slid back in his chair, creating a wide space between himself and the desk, and Blaine, once overworked hands now covered in sweat, pulled his messenger bag off and set it beside the desk. He was vaguely aware that his breathing was a little too quick to be completely healthy as he stepped around the desk and bent over the side. He gripped his hands on the edge of the desk, unsure of where to go from here, and feeling completely exposed.
"These jeans," he heard Professor St James murmur, running his hands up the back of his thighs and over the curve of his ass. "Are you enjoying the 'free dress' Fridays, Mister Anderson?"
Blaine was almost too embarrassed to answer, feeling the heat build on his face, something akin to shame bubbling under the surface of his skin before Professor St James's hand came down on his ass. The sensation sent sparks of heat up Blaine's spine, and he couldn't help the deep moan that came rumbling up from his system.
"Take them off," his professor commanded. The tone was weird to Blaine, as he stood straight from the desk and with trembling fingers, popped the button on his fly. His face flushed harder as he slid his pants down the curve of his ass and to his knees, hearing the low sound from the professor's throat. "I knew you would be going commando." Blaine didn't have a moment to adjust before there was a hand at his back, pushing him forward over the desk, and his fingers gripped at the edges once more. He then felt two large, warm hands on the flesh of his ass, holding him open.
"This is something that should be worshipped." It was the only warning he received, followed by the wet heat of his teacher's tongue delicately tracing along the rim of his ass. Instinctually, his hips pushed back as his vision whited out, the sensation almost completely new to him.
"Sir," he moaned out, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and biting on to it harshly. He didn't break the skin by some miracle, but his teacher gave no response, instead choosing to push his tongue slightly past the ring of muscle and spin it as much as Blaine's body would allow, groaning through his tongue and into his flesh. "Oh, god." Blaine felt so exposed and so embarrassed, another man's tongue in his ass was something he'd never considered, but the more his teacher worked him over, the more he could see, and feel, why this was such a common practice in porn.
Without any warning, he was deprived of the sensation he had just started to become accustomed to, and he felt his Professor's lip across his tailbone. "I'm going to fuck you, Blaine," he said, his words heavy and dark with lust, and a shiver ran down Blaine's spine, as he nodded, shivering softly. "Has anyone ever fucked out before?"
The question struck him as odd, given the tone of their meeting, almost soft and gentle, and Blaine barely managed a nod against the wood of the desk, releasing a shaky breath. He heard the sounds of Professor St James undoing his slacks, and digging around in the desk, lube and a condom, he supposed. "Yeah, once," he whispered, though to his ears it was almost echoing in the silence of the room. "It wasn't very good." His sentence trailed off in a hiss, the cold pressure of his teacher's index finger circling around his hole.
"I can change that for you, Blaine." In Blaine's imagination, the words were said with soft affection, and a kiss was placed to his head afterwards. None of that would've been fitting for the situation, but the gentle hand on the cheek of his ass, exposing him so lewdly, combined with the finger that was just beginning to penetrate him made up for it. He dreamed of a moment, just a second, were they were in love and this meant something to the both of them. The thought helped his body relax and adjust to the intrusion of first one, and then another finger; pushing and pulling along the flesh of his hole, working him open and drawing soft sounds from his lips.
He heard the rustling of a condom being opened and gripped his hands on the edge of the desk until his knuckles were turning white before feeling the blunt head of his professor's cock push against, and then slowly inside of him. Blaine didn't trust himself to reach down and start stroking his own cock to full hardness, maybe relying on his teacher too heavily for his own pleasure. But after a few minutes, he felt the older man's hips pressed almost fully against his, the overwhelming fullness inside of him bringing a crazed sensation of lightheadedness.
"Are you okay?" Professor St James breathed low against his ear, and all Blaine could manage to do was nod, as he slowly started to pull out, only moving a fraction of an inch or so, before pushing back in. Blaine appreciated the time he was given to adjust, as one of his Professor's arms reached around his hips, gripping his cock. "Jesus," the words took on a darker tone as he felt the smooth skin of his fingers dance along the base of his cock, "if i had known you were hiding this…"
Blaine felt a smug feeling wash over him; as few lovers as he'd had in his life, he knew that his size was more than satisfactory. "Glad it pleases you, sir." He groaned, feeling the head of his teacher's cock brush a sensitive part inside of him.
"Call me Jesse." Again, the words were soft, affection, spoken almost with hint of love as Jesse started to work his hand faster, his hips just a fraction harder, pulling out until just the head of his cock was inside of Blaine before pushing back in. The tingling sensations throughout his body, rising from the base of his spine all the way to his brain were overwhelming, and Jesse was moving his hips in time with his hand, his thumb swirling around the head of Blaine's cock, the brushes up against his prostate were entirely too much for him.
"Come on, Blaine. Come for me," the pleading Jesse's voice, a command that so clearly failed had Blaine's body shaking as he came all over his stomach, his professor's hand, and the floor. He heard a few growls from behind him, and with a particularly hard thrust, Jesse stopped moving, collapsing on top of him.
As much as he would've wanted to absorb and enjoy the post orgasmic moment, the knowledge of how much time had passed seeped into his brain before the high of the orgasm even wore off. "What time is it?" He asked, his voice unstable while his muscles clenched down again, almost involuntarily on the cock inside of him.
"We've got about fifteen minutes left before you need to have your checks done," the voice behind him said, pressing his lips to the back of his neck. Just like that, the body on top of his slowly started to pull back and away, careful to not pull out too quickly.
Darren gave a soft smile once he'd turned around and straightened up his clothing, helping Jon back into his pants once he was done. "I have to say, mister St James," the smile on his face devious at best, "this was definitely one of your better ideas." He moved back to sit on the desk, ignoring the discomfort he felt for a moment, and pulling Jon be the hips between his spread knees. "Maybe next time we can do Sue's desk?"
They were barely going to have enough time to clean up before someone came looking for them, but they could take this moment. And Darren let his head rest on Jon's shoulder while his heart rate slowed down and his breathing returned to normal, holding back a laugh at Jon's indignant snort.
"Uh, no. Next fantasy is mine. I think Doctor Darren should see if my inability to orgasm is from faulty lovers or something inside of me." Jon said, running his clean hand through Darren's hair and tilting his head back, bringing their lips together in a slow, gentle kiss.
"Mmm, you're ridiculous." Darren sighed, pushing Jon back only far enough to stand up, his legs still slightly wobbly from how well he'd just been fucked.
"Says the man who wants to be fucked on Sue's desk in a Cheerio's skirt."
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