Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1122306.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Homestuck
  Relationship:
      Rose_Lalonde/Doc_Scratch
  Character:
      Rose_Lalonde, Doc_Scratch
  Additional Tags:
      Lolicon, Underage_Sex, Mildly_Dubious_Consent, Blackmail
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-01-06 Words: 2490
****** Girls Don't Like Boys ******
by MelodramaticMrTails
Summary
     Your little pupil is much more of a hassle than you really want her
     to be.
Your presence is not entirely necessary. In fact, you feel this is much more of
a babysitting job than actually teaching the young dame violin. She doesn’t
seem to like you much, though this could be less you and more her. She doesn’t
seem to like anyone. Her friends appear to be far and few between, mainly
confining in her notes and books. You don’t suppose there’s anything wrong with
that.
You arrive at her home, the precariously placed mansion fitting for a family of
their statute, the same time you always do, twice a week after school. The door
opens before you can knock, Rose peering up at you with those judgemental
purple eyes. You don’t see much of the woman that hired you, Ms Lalonde. You
don’t fully expect to, either.
“Good afternoon,” you speak sharply.
“Come in,” Rose says, leaving the door open as she walks away. You close it
behind you, politely removing your outercoat and hanging it beside the door for
later retrieval. She already has her violin in hand, holding it by it’s neck,
improperly if you might add. She does this on purpose and will later write down
how you respond, a game that neither of you really win.
She stands in the usual place, waiting patiently for your cues as if she
follows them simply because you tell her too. You take your seat before her, a
chair not too comfortable but you’d never say that.
“Let us start with some scales today, shall we?” you offer with a simple hand
gesture.
“Of course, Mr. Scratch,” Rose replies with a smile that, no matter how she may
try, only appears scathing. She positions the heel of her instrument upon her
shoulder, straightening her posture with a few little shakes of her slim hips.
She counts rhythm on her tongue, soundlessly setting an inner metronome against
her teeth of which you can see between her parted lips.
She sets the fine hair of her bow to the strings and diligently go about the
usual eight note scale. It is monotonous and quite honestly, incredibly boring.
There is no need to correct her, as previously stated she really doesn’t
require your assistance, and while you could compliment her, this is often seen
as passive aggressive and receives passive aggression in response. Unnecessary
comments will only take away from her focus, anyways.
“Very good. Let us move on to a composition piece,” you note.
“Mm, in a moment,” comes the answer. You blink. This is not something that’s
happened before, which is to say it’s quite unusual. Rose tucks her bow under
one arm in order to use her newly free handed to fish her mobile from her
really inappropriately short skirt.
“What are you doing?” you ask pointedly.
“Texting,” she tells you simply, not removing her eyes from her little device.
“I intended that to be rhetorical,” you assure her. Rose glances at you
passively, the corner of her lips twitching minutely.
“I am aware,” she says and returns to her mobile. You stand, flattening your
shirt around the stomach with a single hand.
“We do happen to be in the middle of a lesson,” you remind her.
“You’re welcome to continue teaching,” Rose assures you. You must say, she is
particularly good at finding way to get under your skin.
“I do not think your mother is paying me to sit around and watch you ‘text’,”
you inform her, reaching for her phone. She twists herself around swiftly,
putting her device out of your reach without actually stepping away from you.
“I don’t think you’re in any position to know what my mother is paying you
for,” she answers, glancing up to you. You look down at her, this angle giving
you an excellent view down the front of her shirt. You greatly doubt she was
the geographic they had in mind when designing that brassiere. “Is it true you
were fired for inappropriate conduct with one of your students?”
“No,” you answer simply.
“That was an awfully quick no. How young was she, exactly? Or he, I suppose.
You don’t really seem like a ‘or he’ kind of man, I must say,” she murmurs,
tapping her mobile against her lip thoughtfully.
“Ms Lalonde, I am not sure what you are trying to achieve, but I assure you, it
is not working,” you explain simply.
“Avoiding the question? She was young, then. That’s alarmingly more interesting
than playing scales,” she chuckles. “Inappropriate conduct is a very broad
term. A little too hands on with your teaching technique? Or perhaps simply
teaching things out of your ‘area of expertise’?” She is stubborn, that is
certain.
“This is very fun, I promise you, but perhaps we could get back to your lesson
sometime today?” you suggest. “We would not want you to get rusty. We know how
easy it is for children like you to get lazy.”
“It does beg the question why you haven’t made a pass at me, though. Am I not
your type, Doc?” Rose questions, nonchalantly bumping her bottom into you. You
take her mobile from her, a gesture that is equal parts you taking it and her
letting you take it. You place it on the top shelf of one of the bookshelves
nearby. “Am I too young?” she asks and then smirks knowingly. “Too old?”
“Violin. Please?” you gesture to it shortly and abruptly. There are many things
you are will to take her up on in discussion and this is not one of them.
“Or maybe I’m just too smart for you. Did the other think you loved her, Doc?”
Rose muses, filtering her bow between her fingers.
“Mr. Scratch,” you correct her. “Let us continue, shall we?”
“Yes yes. Heaven forbid any fun is had. The world as we know it might end,” she
scoffs but all the same she raises her violin back to prop it upon her shoulder
and takes her bow to it. Admittedly, as this is very boring, it’s a little hard
to concentrate now. This was undoubtedly her intention in the first place.
Rose stops again, though this time her attention is on her bow, fortunately or
otherwise. She frowns pointedly. She examines it for a moment before putting
her violin down and approaching you.
“The hairs on my bow keep loosening I haven’t any idea why. The screw and frog
aren’t broken,” she tells you, handing it over at once. You examine it with you
own hands and Rose leans against your chair.
“You must take better care of your things,” you insist.
“I do,” she assures you.
“That is a very funny joke,” you say.
“Thank you,” she answers. You look over the hairs, plucking at them carefully
to test their tautness. Rose leans her hand on your shoulder and you glance up
slightly. You can’t recall having a student try to seduce you before. Their
mothers? Sure.
“You will need to replace the hairs,” you tell her. Rose takes it back in her
hand, swinging it around slightly.
“I don’t have a spare,” she informs you. “So I suppose today’s lesson is over.
Lucky me, more time for me to explore my body while mother is away.” You sigh
passively.
“Ms Lalonde, why are you trying to seduce me?” you question. Rose offers a
curved shrug, plucking at the collar of her shirt and exposing more of the
smooth skin of her breast.
“Mainly to sate my own curiosity,” she says as if it’s really that simple. “And
to spite my mother, obviously.” This makes slightly more sense. Rose takes your
hand suddenly, placing it upon her breast without hesitation. “Shall I act more
innocent for you? ‘Please be gentle with me, senpai.’”
You push her against the bookcase suddenly and to your benefit, you actually
manage to startle her a bit. She covers this up quickly, grasping your wrist in
her small, caramel hands. Rose is many times smaller than you and it’s so much
more obvious when you hover over her like this. She parts her lips slightly and
you watch a breath of air get caught in her throat.
“Come again?” you murmur, slipping your fingers into the collar of her shirt.
You push it down under her little perky bosom, exposing the lacy black bra
underneath. Rose touches her tongue to her lip, her eyes focused on your hands
but her fingers definitely don’t move to stop you in any way. You rub your
thumb across her cleavage softly, feeling the goosebumps that arise over her
flesh. You slide her bra down with your finger slowly.
Rose exhales carefully and you brush your thumb over her fawn nipple. This
elicits a petite moan from her darkly painted lips. You roll the little nub
between your thumb and forefinger and she tightens her grip on your wrist. You
palm her other breast with your free hand. Rose looks up to you, her face
flushed a pale pink. She’s out of snarky words for once.
You coast your hand down her stomach and you see her knees buckle a little. To
keep her up, you wrap your hand around her ribcage, your hand fitting there
nicely. Her knees twitch together as you run a hand up her thigh and under her
skirt to rub a pair of fingers against the front of her panties. Rose gasps.
“Are you always so sensitive?” you ask, working your fingers against the damp
fabric that clings to her wet cunt.
“Whatever makes you feel better, Mr. Scratch,” she breathes in response. Not
entirely out of snarky replies, clearly. You push her panties aside to slip
your middle finger along the warm lips of her cunt. Rose whimpers weakly. He
soft skin is entirely too welcoming. You run your hand from rib down to her
hip, casually bringing yourself down to your knees. You push her skirt up
around her waist, holding her hips in your palms, your fingers nearly encasing
her petite legs.
You press your tongue to her wet cavern and she jolts under you. She squeezes
your wrist tightly, squirming under the hold you have on her petite body. You
bury your tongue in her cunt and Rose bucks her hips against you. Or away from
you. It’s hard to tell like this. Her young, healthy vagina drips slick
lubrication down the inside of her thighs and when you pull away it strings to
your lips.
With unwavering fingers, you pull the zipper of her skirt down, leaving the
fabric to fall around her feet without any help. Carefully, you slip her
panties down her silky legs, brushing your fingertips over her skin much more
than necessary. You stand, bringing your fingers under her shirt to assist her
in getting it off. Rose bends her little body willingly to you, following your
lead without doubt. She puts her hands on the waist of your pants as you reach
around her to unsnap the clasp of her bra. You can feel the heavy breath on her
lips.
Rose unzips your pants, palming your hard on with fingers that are more nervous
than she likely wants. You feel her hesitate a moment as she feels out the
entirety of your cock through your briefs, certainly larger than the dainty
fingers she’s likely had in herself. She looks up at you. You rub her clit with
your fingers, flicking your fingers in her fluid. Rose moans, tilting her head
against the bookshelf and showing off her tender throat.
Using your free hand you push the waistband of your briefs to expose your cock,
positioning yourself between her thighs and rubbing your erection between the
folds of her dripping cunt with a fine pressure. Rose whimpers softly, her skin
eruption in little pleasured goosebumps. You bring your hands low on her hips,
resting your cock against her mid drift allowing her to see exactly what she’s
gotten herself into.
You part her plump cunt with your thumbs, grazing your eyes along her body to
view her face. Her eyes are focuses on your hands and your cock, teeth biting
the tainted flesh of her bottom lip. Slowly you press the head of your cock
again her tight entrance, pressing forth calmly as she wriggles against you.
“The other was older than you,” you murmur into her hair, breathing in her
scent. Rose whimpers quietly, noises that she’s trying to keep bottled in quite
poorly. You buck your hips against her, burying yourself in her tight cunt. She
yelps, grasping your wrist suddenly and throwing her head back. Her velvet
walls clench around you tightly, spasming without rhythm. You grip her hips
tighter, holding her still as you sink further in.
“Scratch,” she moans pitifully. You pull out fully, swiftly slamming back in
again. Rose arches her back, gasping loudly. She only grows louder when you
start thrusting into her, using the same rhythm she’s so good at tapping on her
teeth. Her noise isn’t a worry in such an isolated house. You can barely hear
yourself over the noises you pull from her throat. As it is however, her
pleasure is honestly secondary to you.
Her sweet little body quivers and you hear the little startled noise that slips
in with the rest when you cum in her. You lick your lip without thought. She
digs her nails into your wrist, an effort that is probably unconscious, as you
withdraw. When you let her go, she automatically collapsing, her weakened knees
unable to keep her upright. You exhale calmly, tucking yourself back into your
trousers.
“I believe we can call it a day,” you say simply. “Do get your bow restringed
for the next lesson.” With a simple motion, you straighten out your shirt and
sleeves, making sure your clothes are in proper condition to be seen in public.
Rose doesn’t reply to you, but then again you didn’t fully expect her to. You
head for the door, lifting your coat from the rack.
”The other was older than you.”
You stop.
“It’s quite amazing what you can put a camera in now a days,” Rose utters, her
breathing still shaky. You turn to her slowly. She sits with her back against
the bookshelf and her little mobile in her hand, it having likely fallen during
your alteration. She smirks at you. You see how you should have been expecting
this.
“Ah,” you can’t help your frown. “Very clever Ms Lalonde.”
“Thank you,” she replies.
“What is it you want, exactly?” you ask, approaching her with a few steps. She
only smiles up at you, though, a cocked jaw smile that, for now, has one upped
you.
“Oh nothing,” she assures you. “One can never have enough blackmail. I’m really
quite glad you fell for my, what was it? Prank?”
“You’re a precarious little she-devil, I hope you are aware of this.”
“Indubitably.”
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