Sam Worthington and Ryan Kwanten (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
ryan_kwanten): a passing grade
Nov. 11th, 2014 01:52 pmsam_worthingtonplayers only. takes place as part of the Citadel High School Weekend, outside the Homecoming Dance, November 1, 2014.
warnings for teacher/student roleplay and explicit con non-con
There's only one reason Ryan showed up at this stupid Homecoming Dance tonight. Well, all right, technically he did agree to chaperone. But he only agreed for one reason: Sam Worthington. And Sam Worthington's tight 17 year-old ass.
Sam takes a good look around at the crowd and just shakes his head. He has no clue where his girlfriend went but then it's been ages since he last saw her, having snuck off with his friends for a toke and a sip of whatever the hell Joe had in his flask. The principal wanders by and nods at him and Sam nods back quickly - shit - hoping he looks okay and not as stoned as he feels right now.
Watching his student try to fade back and blend in, Ryan smirks. He slips up behind Sam - they're standing so close to the speakers that there's no possible way his approach could be heard over the lackadaisical hired band - until he's near enough for his breath to raise hairs on the young man's neck. "You smell like it, you know?"
"Like what?" Sam says, jerking around, his eyes going wide. Fuck. It's Mr. Kwanten. He bites at his lower lip, staring at the man, wondering if he's going to rat him out.
And of course Ryan's gaze instantly zeroes in on that lush mouth, but fuck it – his plans for the evening involve throwing caution to the wind. "All of it. All your bad boy 'rebel without a cause' extracurriculars." He pins Sam with a knowing look. "Weed, liquor. Sex."
"I wasn't—" Fuck. Sam shuts up. There's no point in denying it. "I'm not doing anything everyone else isn't doing," he points out, a little resentfully. Not sure why Mr. Kwanten, who isn't even as old as half their teachers, feels the need to harsh his mellow.
"Right." Ryan nods in mock earnestness. "Peer pressure, sure. If all of your mates were out in the parking lot right now, tagging Principal Gregg’s car, would you do it too?"
"No." Sam shakes his head. "My folks would kill me." He glances around, looking for Stacey, for Joe, hell, for any of his friends to come and fucking rescue him.
Ryan raises an eyebrow, studying Sam's face like he's genuinely concerned about the young man's future. "Let's have a talk," he decides, and nods towards one of the side exits from the gym.
No fucking way... Sam's shoulders sag and he huffs out a breath, dragging his feet as he heads towards the exit since the only other fucking option is Mr. Kwanten ratting him out to Principal Gregg.
Working to bite back his smile, Ryan stays at Sam's elbow, subtly steering him towards a shadowed alcove beneath a stairwell – the illicit location a well-loved but very badly-kept secret. "Where do you think you're going with all this, Sam? What do you see for your future?"
"I don't know," Sam says, blowing out a breath and shifting constantly. "It's a fucking dance. I just want to have fun with my friends and not think about that stuff tonight."
"Hmm. But do you think about that stuff ever?" Ryan asks, folding his arms across his chest and shifting his weight just enough to block any path of escape.
Sam huffs out another breath and gives Mr. Kwanten a look. Is this dude for real? "Of course I do." He scuffs his toe on the ground, hands shoved into his pockets. "My dad wants me to go to Yale." He rolls his eyes.
"Yale," Ryan echoes, deadpan. "I know you're bright enough to make it there, Sam. But you do realize that you have to pass my class in order for them to even consider your application?"
Sam stills, staring at Mr. Kwanten. "But I am passing," he says, confused and suddenly a little scared. "I have a 90 in your class."
Ryan whistles softly. "A 90. That's pretty borderline, Sam. Such a low A can go either way." He moves in a step closer, until he can feel the heat radiating from Sam's body. "Do you really feel confident about that?"
"What do you want?" Sam blurts out. "You know I can raise it by the end of the term."
Raise it. Ha. "Sure, you could pin your hopes on your performance over the next month," Ryan agrees with a judicious nod. "Or? We can settle this right now. It's your call." He reaches out and rests his hand lightly on Sam's belt buckle.
Sam's gaze follows Mr. Kwanten's hand and then jerks back to his face, his eyes wide, his head already moving from side to side. "No."
Pleased that Sam didn't just immediately shove him away, Ryan presses his advantage. "Are you certain? Because you've got that big exam coming up, and I know how you hate those inverse function problems. Hell, I might even throw in a handful more cosine derivations, specially for you." Moving slowly - he wants to intimidate, not surprise - he draws his fingertip down the side of Sam's throat, smirking faintly. "Just the idea makes you sweat."
Sam's gaze flickers again, looking for any means of escape, anyone close enough to call out. "I'll tell," he blurts out, stepping back. "I'll tell them you came onto me."
Ryan raises an eyebrow, knowing he's got Sam good and trapped; one more step away and he'll back himself into the corner. "You won't tell," he says quietly, confidently. "Want to know why? Because I'm not coming onto you." He splays his hands against the wall, caging his student between his arms. "I'm going to fuck you, Sam. And you won't tell anyone, because you are going to fucking love it."
"No. Let me go," Sam says, hands coming up to push Mr. Kwanten back. "I have a girlfriend."
Ryan braces and meets every bit of force; they're about the same size, but he knows he's got more muscle. "She's not my type."
"Leave me alone," Sam says, really starting to get worried now. "I'll yell. Everyone'll come running," he threatens, but even he knows how loud the music is back in the gym, how unlikely it would be that anyone would hear him, let alone come and help.
"Turn. Around," Ryan orders. "And drop your pants."
"No!" Sam shouts, suddenly struggling for all he's worth, pushing and punching at Mr. Kwanten.
The first punch takes Ryan by surprise; he was starting to think this would be easy. But he was the state welterweight champion in his day, and after a startled instant his reflexes kick in lightning-fast. Grabbing Sam's wrist he spins him to slam against the wall, his arm wrenched up behind his back. "We could've done this the easy way," Ryan growls, pinning Sam with his weight and working his trousers down one-handed. "Just remember that you chose this."
"Help!" Sam cries out, even though he knows it won't do any good. "Don't. Please." Tears starting to roll down his cheeks. "Please don't."
"'Please don't,' really?" Ryan mocks. He hitches Sam's arm a fraction higher and snags the tiny bottle of lube from his own trouser pocket, popping the cap. "I don't think you understand how negotiation works, Mr. Worthington. See, if you want to change my mind, then you have to offer me something better than the option I've got right in front of me." He slips a slick finger down the crack of Sam's naked ass.
"What do you want?" Sam asks, shaking and desperate, jerking away into the wall as Mr. Kwanten touches him there. "I've got money. I can pay you whatever you want."
"Not interested," Ryan replies. "If you plan to slide through life just paying people off, then you'd do well to stop strutting your hot ass around and making everyone notice you." He slaps said ass - hard - and then presses just his fingertip into Sam's hole, his breath hot on the back of Sam's neck. “After tonight, you're going to jerk off thinking about me. Next week when you see me in school, you'll start sweating. Shaking. And you'll come find me sometime in secret, and you will beg me to do this to you again."
"Please. I'll give you anything you want," Sam says, stiffening, his muscles clenching tight. "Just not that. Please!"
"...Just not that?" Ryan asks softly, his lips grazing Sam's nape. And he decides not to push harder against that resistance for right now. Instead, he reaches around and takes Sam's cock in his hand, beginning to stroke, slow, steady. Firm.
"Sir..." Fuck. Sam drops his head against the wall, the brick scraping his forehead. "Please." Because Christ. He's a teenage boy. Of course he's going to react to someone's hand on his cock. Even when he doesn't want it. Not really. "I don't..."
"Yeah, you do," Ryan says in that same quiet voice, trying to soothe now, to lull Sam to him. "That's okay. It feels good."
Sam shakes his head. "No, please..." Trying to shift away from the touch, his body betraying him, his cock getting harder and harder. "Please stop."
And for an abrupt instant, it's too much. Ryan - the real Ryan, boy and husband and owned through and through - flinches away, deep in his mind. No. Please stop. Please. The words reverberate through him like waves of sickness. But no, he sternly reminds himself, this is Sam. Sam will call a halt to the whole roleplay scene in a flat second if he wants to – Ryan trusts in him absolutely. So he pushes through. "I'll make you feel so good," he murmurs, playing his fingers over the head of Sam's cock before returning to stroking. "So good, Sam. I promise you."
Sam sobs, clenching his eyes tight and then just nods. It's going to happen anyway and there's nothing he can do stop it.
A quick shock of sheer relief to Ryan's heart, and then he breathes again. "That's right," he says softly, and he slowly brings Sam's arm down from the wrenching hold. He's now leaving himself open and vulnerable to attack, he knows, but he'll take the risk. He guides Sam's hands to press against the wall, and pulls his hips back for a better angle. "Trust in me," he says, taking a second to warm the lube between his fingers this time, then gently plying his fingertip over the tight pucker of Sam's ass. "Let me show you how amazing you can feel."
This time Sam shakes his head. Mr. Kwanten can do whatever he wants to him but he's not going to participate, not going to react. Fuck him. He sniffs back the tears, gritting his teeth against reacting.
But the truth is that if Ryan had been planning for enthusiastic consent, they never would've even left the dance. So he steels himself, rolls his eyes for his own benefit, and starts rubbing small circles against Sam's hole. Knowing just how damn good it feels on his own ass.
Sam whimpers, unable to help himself, his hole clenching tight. But he can't keep that up for long and he reminds himself that Mr. Kwanten's going to do this anyway. Even if it hurts him. His eyes kept closed, he lets himself try and relax, his cock jerking a bit as those fingers rub more firmly.
Ryan drizzles on a little more lube and keeps rubbing, pressing infinitesimally deeper with each circle. Until finally he slips one long finger inside, and nearly shudders in reaction to the intense heat.
Sam cries out at the penetration, jerking away, but there's nowhere to go. Another "please" spilling from his lips before he can stop it.
"Please what, baby?" Ryan asks, kissing Sam's neck. "Please...?" He twists to graze his fingertip over Sam's prostate.
It's like being shocked and Sam jerks away again, his cock throbbing so hard it hurts. "Don't..." he whispers again, because when it comes down to it, he's terrified of Mr. Kwanten making him want this.
"Open up for me, Sam," Ryan breathes, and begins his slow stroking of Sam's prick once more. And soon he pushes a second finger inside, keeping that same steady rhythm and being sure to stimulate Sam's sweet spot every other pass or so.
"Unh." Sam bangs his head against the wall, trying to counter the pleasure starting to coil inside him. His cock, that fucking traitor, responding to Mr. Kwanten's every touch.
"That's good." Fuck, Ryan is aching. He doesn't know how much longer he can draw this out, and to hell with the boy's pain threshold, whatever it may be. "Good..." Abruptly he pulls his fingers out of Sam's ass and slicks lube onto his erection, keeping hold of Sam's cock and then starting to push himself inexorably inside.
"No, no," Sam blurts out, trying to push Mr. Kwanten back, the other man's weight making his struggle futile. But it hurts, fuck it hurts, and the tears are streaming down his cheeks again. "Please!"
"I know, baby," Ryan murmurs, and fuck yeah he knows, but that's not stopping him. Not tonight. "Just like this. It'll get better," he says, dragging Sam's hips back and bending his knees slightly to make things that little bit easier. Deeper. Deeper inside, muscle resistance fighting him but the intense heat of Sam's body closing around him like a blazing fist.
Sam can tell the moment Mr. Kwanten's fully inside him. Can feel skin against skin, pressed tight and hot, the stretch, the burn intensifying. He lets out a harsh sob, shoving his fist in his mouth, teeth scraping his knuckles.
"That's it. That's it." Now Ryan starts jacking Sam's cock like he means it, while he slowly works in and out of the boy's ass. Gaining momentum and ground.
Sam sobs again, but this time it comes on the tail end of a full-body shudder, his nerves completely confused, torn between pain and pleasure.
"Fuck, you're good, you're so good," Ryan whispers, and a little voice in his head is warning him to shut the hell up already, he's incriminated himself plenty and there's no need to add fuel to the fire, but fuck! He adds a twist to each upstroke, working Sam's cock and trying to catch the boy up.
Sam whimpers, breath choked as he gasps for air, his whole body tightening. No. Fuck. Please no. He knows that feeling and he shakes his head, trying to ward it off, trying to— he cries out, coming hard and hot and thick across Mr. Kwanten's fingers.
Ryan slams his hands against the wall and drops his head back, mouth gaping. His orgasm roils through him, triggered in an instant by the crazily tight clench of Sam's muscles around his cock. He continues to breathe open-mouthed, not letting himself make another sound, then slowly pulls out of his student's ass, breaking all contact between them.
Sam doesn't move except to wrap his arms around himself, his eyes still clenched tight, his whole body still vibrating through the aftershocks. He doesn't know what comes next. Doesn't know what he wants to come next.
His own clothing set to rights, Ryan gently lays his hands on Sam's shoulders. He smoothes slowly down Sam's arms, following their path until he's embracing the boy tightly. Offering comfort, if his student will take it.
"Wow," Sam says finally, breathes finally, leaning back into Ryan's embrace, their fingers entwined. "That was a serious head fuck."
"Oh, thank fuck you're back," Ryan mumbles, finally taking a full deep breath for what feels like the first time since he arrived at the Homecoming Dance in his Mr. Kwanten role. "God, I got scared there sometimes." He turns Sam around to face him, inhaling his lover's scent. "Was that okay? Are you okay?"
Sam nods, wrapping his arms around Ryan and pulling him close, their foreheads pressed together. "Yeah, I am, and you were great," he says, knowing he needs to take care of Ryan before he really lets himself relax.
Ryan melts, just a little. Sam is an all-around instant panacea, and he knows just how to make Ryan feel safe. "I love you so much," he whispers against Sam's lips. "So fucking much."
Sam smiles. "I love you more," he murmurs.
Ducking his head on a pleased smile, Ryan mutters, "Whatever. You pass, by the way."
"I certainly hope so. Teenage Sam deserves his A for that," Sam says, kissing Ryan's throat.
* * *
It's not long afterwards that they leave the Homecoming event entirely, not even stopping to say goodbye to anyone on their way back to their suite which is a circumferential ride around the vast Citadel estate. Ryan is already halfway undressed by the time they walk in, having loosened his necktie and stripped off his dress shirt entirely, and it's a dream come true just to hold Sam's hand and walk boldly past the hotel staff. With the door to their suite shut and locked behind them, his trousers and shoes swiftly disappear as well. "Come to bed?"
"Gladly," Sam nods, undressing as he follows Ryan into the bedroom. "Did you have a good time tonight?"
"Are you kidding? I had the hottest date in the whole place." Ryan pulls back the covers and holds out a hand to Sam, then shrugs. "Eventually."
"You were okay with the whole scene?" Sam asks, taking Ryan's hand and letting his lover pull him into bed. "Ageplay and con non-con. That's a pretty heady mix."
"There were a few shaky moments... Mostly, though, I was really excited about it." Ryan snugs the covers in around them, and intertwines his limbs with his husband's. "Because I knew you wouldn't hesitate to halt the whole business if you felt like it was going wrong."
"Definitely," Sam nods, rubbing his fingers in small circles over Ryan's skin. "I would've safeworded if I needed to."
"Yeah." Ryan strokes Sam’s cheek with the backs of his knuckles. "Did you enjoy it? You, yourself?"
Sam nods. "It was a really different headspace," he confesses, still not sure he's come up completely from it. "But really hot."
"Okay." Ryan caresses him again. "Okay," he repeats, for his own benefit. "It just... so long as, you know, ultimately you liked it."
"I did," Sam says, turning his head to press a kiss to Ryan's knuckles. "There's not anyone else in the world I'd do a scene like that with, and it was brilliant."
"Thank you," Ryan whispers, although he knows the words will never be sufficient. "Thank you for trusting me that much. I love you."
"I love you too," Sam whispers back, shifting again to kiss Ryan on the mouth. "But I might be about to pass out on you." He's trying hard to stay awake but the adrenaline dump from earlier is finally taking him down.
"That's okay," Ryan says with a soft laugh. "Rest, love."
"You sure?" Sam blows out a breath. "We didn't come all this way for me to sleep."
"Sam, either I've just been through a heavy scene with you, or I'm lying in your arms. Those are the only two circumstances in the world when I want to be resting in bed, so trust me when I say this is one of those times," Ryan tells him with a grin. "This might even be both of those times."
Sam laughs, pulling Ryan in even tighter. "I am so fucking lucky to have you," he murmurs, closing his eyes.
"Yeah." Ryan's grin widens, and he snuggles in happily. "And I'm lucky to be had."
[feedback welcome. comments screened.]
warnings for teacher/student roleplay and explicit con non-con
There's only one reason Ryan showed up at this stupid Homecoming Dance tonight. Well, all right, technically he did agree to chaperone. But he only agreed for one reason: Sam Worthington. And Sam Worthington's tight 17 year-old ass.
Sam takes a good look around at the crowd and just shakes his head. He has no clue where his girlfriend went but then it's been ages since he last saw her, having snuck off with his friends for a toke and a sip of whatever the hell Joe had in his flask. The principal wanders by and nods at him and Sam nods back quickly - shit - hoping he looks okay and not as stoned as he feels right now.
Watching his student try to fade back and blend in, Ryan smirks. He slips up behind Sam - they're standing so close to the speakers that there's no possible way his approach could be heard over the lackadaisical hired band - until he's near enough for his breath to raise hairs on the young man's neck. "You smell like it, you know?"
"Like what?" Sam says, jerking around, his eyes going wide. Fuck. It's Mr. Kwanten. He bites at his lower lip, staring at the man, wondering if he's going to rat him out.
And of course Ryan's gaze instantly zeroes in on that lush mouth, but fuck it – his plans for the evening involve throwing caution to the wind. "All of it. All your bad boy 'rebel without a cause' extracurriculars." He pins Sam with a knowing look. "Weed, liquor. Sex."
"I wasn't—" Fuck. Sam shuts up. There's no point in denying it. "I'm not doing anything everyone else isn't doing," he points out, a little resentfully. Not sure why Mr. Kwanten, who isn't even as old as half their teachers, feels the need to harsh his mellow.
"Right." Ryan nods in mock earnestness. "Peer pressure, sure. If all of your mates were out in the parking lot right now, tagging Principal Gregg’s car, would you do it too?"
"No." Sam shakes his head. "My folks would kill me." He glances around, looking for Stacey, for Joe, hell, for any of his friends to come and fucking rescue him.
Ryan raises an eyebrow, studying Sam's face like he's genuinely concerned about the young man's future. "Let's have a talk," he decides, and nods towards one of the side exits from the gym.
No fucking way... Sam's shoulders sag and he huffs out a breath, dragging his feet as he heads towards the exit since the only other fucking option is Mr. Kwanten ratting him out to Principal Gregg.
Working to bite back his smile, Ryan stays at Sam's elbow, subtly steering him towards a shadowed alcove beneath a stairwell – the illicit location a well-loved but very badly-kept secret. "Where do you think you're going with all this, Sam? What do you see for your future?"
"I don't know," Sam says, blowing out a breath and shifting constantly. "It's a fucking dance. I just want to have fun with my friends and not think about that stuff tonight."
"Hmm. But do you think about that stuff ever?" Ryan asks, folding his arms across his chest and shifting his weight just enough to block any path of escape.
Sam huffs out another breath and gives Mr. Kwanten a look. Is this dude for real? "Of course I do." He scuffs his toe on the ground, hands shoved into his pockets. "My dad wants me to go to Yale." He rolls his eyes.
"Yale," Ryan echoes, deadpan. "I know you're bright enough to make it there, Sam. But you do realize that you have to pass my class in order for them to even consider your application?"
Sam stills, staring at Mr. Kwanten. "But I am passing," he says, confused and suddenly a little scared. "I have a 90 in your class."
Ryan whistles softly. "A 90. That's pretty borderline, Sam. Such a low A can go either way." He moves in a step closer, until he can feel the heat radiating from Sam's body. "Do you really feel confident about that?"
"What do you want?" Sam blurts out. "You know I can raise it by the end of the term."
Raise it. Ha. "Sure, you could pin your hopes on your performance over the next month," Ryan agrees with a judicious nod. "Or? We can settle this right now. It's your call." He reaches out and rests his hand lightly on Sam's belt buckle.
Sam's gaze follows Mr. Kwanten's hand and then jerks back to his face, his eyes wide, his head already moving from side to side. "No."
Pleased that Sam didn't just immediately shove him away, Ryan presses his advantage. "Are you certain? Because you've got that big exam coming up, and I know how you hate those inverse function problems. Hell, I might even throw in a handful more cosine derivations, specially for you." Moving slowly - he wants to intimidate, not surprise - he draws his fingertip down the side of Sam's throat, smirking faintly. "Just the idea makes you sweat."
Sam's gaze flickers again, looking for any means of escape, anyone close enough to call out. "I'll tell," he blurts out, stepping back. "I'll tell them you came onto me."
Ryan raises an eyebrow, knowing he's got Sam good and trapped; one more step away and he'll back himself into the corner. "You won't tell," he says quietly, confidently. "Want to know why? Because I'm not coming onto you." He splays his hands against the wall, caging his student between his arms. "I'm going to fuck you, Sam. And you won't tell anyone, because you are going to fucking love it."
"No. Let me go," Sam says, hands coming up to push Mr. Kwanten back. "I have a girlfriend."
Ryan braces and meets every bit of force; they're about the same size, but he knows he's got more muscle. "She's not my type."
"Leave me alone," Sam says, really starting to get worried now. "I'll yell. Everyone'll come running," he threatens, but even he knows how loud the music is back in the gym, how unlikely it would be that anyone would hear him, let alone come and help.
"Turn. Around," Ryan orders. "And drop your pants."
"No!" Sam shouts, suddenly struggling for all he's worth, pushing and punching at Mr. Kwanten.
The first punch takes Ryan by surprise; he was starting to think this would be easy. But he was the state welterweight champion in his day, and after a startled instant his reflexes kick in lightning-fast. Grabbing Sam's wrist he spins him to slam against the wall, his arm wrenched up behind his back. "We could've done this the easy way," Ryan growls, pinning Sam with his weight and working his trousers down one-handed. "Just remember that you chose this."
"Help!" Sam cries out, even though he knows it won't do any good. "Don't. Please." Tears starting to roll down his cheeks. "Please don't."
"'Please don't,' really?" Ryan mocks. He hitches Sam's arm a fraction higher and snags the tiny bottle of lube from his own trouser pocket, popping the cap. "I don't think you understand how negotiation works, Mr. Worthington. See, if you want to change my mind, then you have to offer me something better than the option I've got right in front of me." He slips a slick finger down the crack of Sam's naked ass.
"What do you want?" Sam asks, shaking and desperate, jerking away into the wall as Mr. Kwanten touches him there. "I've got money. I can pay you whatever you want."
"Not interested," Ryan replies. "If you plan to slide through life just paying people off, then you'd do well to stop strutting your hot ass around and making everyone notice you." He slaps said ass - hard - and then presses just his fingertip into Sam's hole, his breath hot on the back of Sam's neck. “After tonight, you're going to jerk off thinking about me. Next week when you see me in school, you'll start sweating. Shaking. And you'll come find me sometime in secret, and you will beg me to do this to you again."
"Please. I'll give you anything you want," Sam says, stiffening, his muscles clenching tight. "Just not that. Please!"
"...Just not that?" Ryan asks softly, his lips grazing Sam's nape. And he decides not to push harder against that resistance for right now. Instead, he reaches around and takes Sam's cock in his hand, beginning to stroke, slow, steady. Firm.
"Sir..." Fuck. Sam drops his head against the wall, the brick scraping his forehead. "Please." Because Christ. He's a teenage boy. Of course he's going to react to someone's hand on his cock. Even when he doesn't want it. Not really. "I don't..."
"Yeah, you do," Ryan says in that same quiet voice, trying to soothe now, to lull Sam to him. "That's okay. It feels good."
Sam shakes his head. "No, please..." Trying to shift away from the touch, his body betraying him, his cock getting harder and harder. "Please stop."
And for an abrupt instant, it's too much. Ryan - the real Ryan, boy and husband and owned through and through - flinches away, deep in his mind. No. Please stop. Please. The words reverberate through him like waves of sickness. But no, he sternly reminds himself, this is Sam. Sam will call a halt to the whole roleplay scene in a flat second if he wants to – Ryan trusts in him absolutely. So he pushes through. "I'll make you feel so good," he murmurs, playing his fingers over the head of Sam's cock before returning to stroking. "So good, Sam. I promise you."
Sam sobs, clenching his eyes tight and then just nods. It's going to happen anyway and there's nothing he can do stop it.
A quick shock of sheer relief to Ryan's heart, and then he breathes again. "That's right," he says softly, and he slowly brings Sam's arm down from the wrenching hold. He's now leaving himself open and vulnerable to attack, he knows, but he'll take the risk. He guides Sam's hands to press against the wall, and pulls his hips back for a better angle. "Trust in me," he says, taking a second to warm the lube between his fingers this time, then gently plying his fingertip over the tight pucker of Sam's ass. "Let me show you how amazing you can feel."
This time Sam shakes his head. Mr. Kwanten can do whatever he wants to him but he's not going to participate, not going to react. Fuck him. He sniffs back the tears, gritting his teeth against reacting.
But the truth is that if Ryan had been planning for enthusiastic consent, they never would've even left the dance. So he steels himself, rolls his eyes for his own benefit, and starts rubbing small circles against Sam's hole. Knowing just how damn good it feels on his own ass.
Sam whimpers, unable to help himself, his hole clenching tight. But he can't keep that up for long and he reminds himself that Mr. Kwanten's going to do this anyway. Even if it hurts him. His eyes kept closed, he lets himself try and relax, his cock jerking a bit as those fingers rub more firmly.
Ryan drizzles on a little more lube and keeps rubbing, pressing infinitesimally deeper with each circle. Until finally he slips one long finger inside, and nearly shudders in reaction to the intense heat.
Sam cries out at the penetration, jerking away, but there's nowhere to go. Another "please" spilling from his lips before he can stop it.
"Please what, baby?" Ryan asks, kissing Sam's neck. "Please...?" He twists to graze his fingertip over Sam's prostate.
It's like being shocked and Sam jerks away again, his cock throbbing so hard it hurts. "Don't..." he whispers again, because when it comes down to it, he's terrified of Mr. Kwanten making him want this.
"Open up for me, Sam," Ryan breathes, and begins his slow stroking of Sam's prick once more. And soon he pushes a second finger inside, keeping that same steady rhythm and being sure to stimulate Sam's sweet spot every other pass or so.
"Unh." Sam bangs his head against the wall, trying to counter the pleasure starting to coil inside him. His cock, that fucking traitor, responding to Mr. Kwanten's every touch.
"That's good." Fuck, Ryan is aching. He doesn't know how much longer he can draw this out, and to hell with the boy's pain threshold, whatever it may be. "Good..." Abruptly he pulls his fingers out of Sam's ass and slicks lube onto his erection, keeping hold of Sam's cock and then starting to push himself inexorably inside.
"No, no," Sam blurts out, trying to push Mr. Kwanten back, the other man's weight making his struggle futile. But it hurts, fuck it hurts, and the tears are streaming down his cheeks again. "Please!"
"I know, baby," Ryan murmurs, and fuck yeah he knows, but that's not stopping him. Not tonight. "Just like this. It'll get better," he says, dragging Sam's hips back and bending his knees slightly to make things that little bit easier. Deeper. Deeper inside, muscle resistance fighting him but the intense heat of Sam's body closing around him like a blazing fist.
Sam can tell the moment Mr. Kwanten's fully inside him. Can feel skin against skin, pressed tight and hot, the stretch, the burn intensifying. He lets out a harsh sob, shoving his fist in his mouth, teeth scraping his knuckles.
"That's it. That's it." Now Ryan starts jacking Sam's cock like he means it, while he slowly works in and out of the boy's ass. Gaining momentum and ground.
Sam sobs again, but this time it comes on the tail end of a full-body shudder, his nerves completely confused, torn between pain and pleasure.
"Fuck, you're good, you're so good," Ryan whispers, and a little voice in his head is warning him to shut the hell up already, he's incriminated himself plenty and there's no need to add fuel to the fire, but fuck! He adds a twist to each upstroke, working Sam's cock and trying to catch the boy up.
Sam whimpers, breath choked as he gasps for air, his whole body tightening. No. Fuck. Please no. He knows that feeling and he shakes his head, trying to ward it off, trying to— he cries out, coming hard and hot and thick across Mr. Kwanten's fingers.
Ryan slams his hands against the wall and drops his head back, mouth gaping. His orgasm roils through him, triggered in an instant by the crazily tight clench of Sam's muscles around his cock. He continues to breathe open-mouthed, not letting himself make another sound, then slowly pulls out of his student's ass, breaking all contact between them.
Sam doesn't move except to wrap his arms around himself, his eyes still clenched tight, his whole body still vibrating through the aftershocks. He doesn't know what comes next. Doesn't know what he wants to come next.
His own clothing set to rights, Ryan gently lays his hands on Sam's shoulders. He smoothes slowly down Sam's arms, following their path until he's embracing the boy tightly. Offering comfort, if his student will take it.
"Wow," Sam says finally, breathes finally, leaning back into Ryan's embrace, their fingers entwined. "That was a serious head fuck."
"Oh, thank fuck you're back," Ryan mumbles, finally taking a full deep breath for what feels like the first time since he arrived at the Homecoming Dance in his Mr. Kwanten role. "God, I got scared there sometimes." He turns Sam around to face him, inhaling his lover's scent. "Was that okay? Are you okay?"
Sam nods, wrapping his arms around Ryan and pulling him close, their foreheads pressed together. "Yeah, I am, and you were great," he says, knowing he needs to take care of Ryan before he really lets himself relax.
Ryan melts, just a little. Sam is an all-around instant panacea, and he knows just how to make Ryan feel safe. "I love you so much," he whispers against Sam's lips. "So fucking much."
Sam smiles. "I love you more," he murmurs.
Ducking his head on a pleased smile, Ryan mutters, "Whatever. You pass, by the way."
"I certainly hope so. Teenage Sam deserves his A for that," Sam says, kissing Ryan's throat.
It's not long afterwards that they leave the Homecoming event entirely, not even stopping to say goodbye to anyone on their way back to their suite which is a circumferential ride around the vast Citadel estate. Ryan is already halfway undressed by the time they walk in, having loosened his necktie and stripped off his dress shirt entirely, and it's a dream come true just to hold Sam's hand and walk boldly past the hotel staff. With the door to their suite shut and locked behind them, his trousers and shoes swiftly disappear as well. "Come to bed?"
"Gladly," Sam nods, undressing as he follows Ryan into the bedroom. "Did you have a good time tonight?"
"Are you kidding? I had the hottest date in the whole place." Ryan pulls back the covers and holds out a hand to Sam, then shrugs. "Eventually."
"You were okay with the whole scene?" Sam asks, taking Ryan's hand and letting his lover pull him into bed. "Ageplay and con non-con. That's a pretty heady mix."
"There were a few shaky moments... Mostly, though, I was really excited about it." Ryan snugs the covers in around them, and intertwines his limbs with his husband's. "Because I knew you wouldn't hesitate to halt the whole business if you felt like it was going wrong."
"Definitely," Sam nods, rubbing his fingers in small circles over Ryan's skin. "I would've safeworded if I needed to."
"Yeah." Ryan strokes Sam’s cheek with the backs of his knuckles. "Did you enjoy it? You, yourself?"
Sam nods. "It was a really different headspace," he confesses, still not sure he's come up completely from it. "But really hot."
"Okay." Ryan caresses him again. "Okay," he repeats, for his own benefit. "It just... so long as, you know, ultimately you liked it."
"I did," Sam says, turning his head to press a kiss to Ryan's knuckles. "There's not anyone else in the world I'd do a scene like that with, and it was brilliant."
"Thank you," Ryan whispers, although he knows the words will never be sufficient. "Thank you for trusting me that much. I love you."
"I love you too," Sam whispers back, shifting again to kiss Ryan on the mouth. "But I might be about to pass out on you." He's trying hard to stay awake but the adrenaline dump from earlier is finally taking him down.
"That's okay," Ryan says with a soft laugh. "Rest, love."
"You sure?" Sam blows out a breath. "We didn't come all this way for me to sleep."
"Sam, either I've just been through a heavy scene with you, or I'm lying in your arms. Those are the only two circumstances in the world when I want to be resting in bed, so trust me when I say this is one of those times," Ryan tells him with a grin. "This might even be both of those times."
Sam laughs, pulling Ryan in even tighter. "I am so fucking lucky to have you," he murmurs, closing his eyes.
"Yeah." Ryan's grin widens, and he snuggles in happily. "And I'm lucky to be had."
[feedback welcome. comments screened.]
