Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4844528.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural_RPF
  Relationship:
      Jensen_Ackles/Misha_Collins
  Character:
      Jensen_Ackles, Misha_Collins
  Additional Tags:
      Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Blow_Jobs, Rimming, Anal_Sex, Teacher-
      Student_Relationship, Russian_Misha_Collins, Language_Kink, Rough_Sex,
      Dom/sub_Undertones, Desk_Sex, First_Time, First_Time_Blow_Jobs, Age
      Difference, Top_Misha, Bottom_Jensen, Fluff_and_Smut
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-09-21 Words: 6931
****** How To Count (in Russian) ******
by xSebasChanx
Summary
     When he decided that Russian would be a cool language to learn,
     Jensen didn't take into account the possibility of having the hottest
     dude he had laid eyes on as a teacher. Since the first day of class,
     he knew that the year would be a pretty tough one to face. That
     until, one day, his lack of skills made it perfect.
     Porn with a tiny bit of plot and a lot of Russian.
Notes
     I'm really sorry for this. I wrote it for my friends Valentina
     (blindingx) and Simona (CountessCastiel).. they prompted it to me and
     so I obliged. They liked it a lot and talked me into publishing it
     for some reason.
     Thank you so much to my beta, Sedef (Iphigenia)... Bless you and your
     patience bearing with me and my fics.. lol.
     There's just one thing I need to warn you about, and it is that
     Jensen is 17 years old. Misha's age isn't specified in the fic so
     it's up to you, really.
     I hope you'll enjoy!! Thank you for reading. :)
As Jensen sat down on his designated chair in the back of the classroom, hidden
from sight or so he liked to believe, there was just a couple of things that
poked unnervingly at his mind: first and most important, why the fuck had he
chosen Russian as a foreign language to learn? And secondly; who was the hot
dude sitting on one of the bench just outside school, chilling in the autumn
air while reading some papers and carelessly smoking a cigarette, sunglasses
elegantly held up his straight nose?
Nope, he didn’t stare like at all. For example, he didn’t notice how
unpleasantly hot the man was to his eyes, jeans the right kind of baggy and
uniformly blue shirt precisely buttoned up to the second to last button, enough
to reveal toned skin and a shy amount of dark hairs.
Jensen sighed as he fished a notebook and a pen from his bag, thoughts still
clouded, grey as the smoke that the man softly exhaled while he had hurried by,
trying not to get entranced as he took in all of the man’s stance. And he did
in fact commit it all to memory, not even realizing as he did so. He could
still perfectly depict the guy’s crossed legs, one hand holding the papers
while the other rested on his knee. In between its fingers sat the cigarette,
column of smoke slowly dragged away by a gentle breeze.
He blessed the heavens when the entrance door clicked shut, preventing his
thoughts to persevere on and producing a boner in his first class of Russian of
the year.
As he looked up, though, all the air got locked up in his lungs as if they were
suddenly sealed.
There he stood, the man he saw on the bench earlier. He walked to the desk in a
few big, fluid steps. He laid down the papers he was carrying as soon as he
reached it, along with the sunglasses he was holding in his hand when he walked
in. Since it happened, the man hadn’t looked up once, but when he did, Jensen
silently wished he had refrained a little while longer.
The dude had the brightest blue eyes he had ever seen, so magnetic and
beautiful. They could be seen from all the way where he was sitting and they
were hooking him in. Jensen found himself sinking down in his chair to
unconsciously hide as the man, who he could only rightly assume was his new
Russian teacher, scanned the room.
After swiftly studying the faces of his students, the professor ran his hands
down the front of his shirt, flattening down all the ridges that had formed. It
was mostly what could be read as a nervous sign. Jensen was about to find him
cute, if only the way the man started talking then didn’t make his blood spike
up in temperature of about a hundred degrees.
“Hello, everybody,” he said with a gruff voice and a faint Russian accent that
Jensen couldn’t help but find hot as the man really was. “I am Misha Collins.
I’ll be teaching you Russian for the year to come”
Misha? What kind of name was that?
The whole class started whispering, trying out the teacher’s name in what
looked like perplexity, which matched Jensen’s reaction.
The teacher cleared his throat, calling the class back to attention as it had
seemed to have lost its focus.
“Yes, since you seem to be getting at that, I am indeed Russian and Misha is a
Russian name. Can we now go on to more important matters?”
As everyone silently looked up at him, the teacher nodded, happy with the
class’ attention back on the lesson that was about to get started. Mr. Collins
took out his spectacle case from the back of his pants and opened it with one
swift movement. He took the glasses out and put them on, a frown on his face as
he did it. Then he turned and put the sunglasses in the case before leaving it
on the desk. After that, he took the register and silently turned page after
page, probably trying to find the list of the class’ students’ names, Jensen
could only guess.
The 17-year-old boy lost track of time as his eyes went about the man’s figure,
studying the way his legs were once again crossed while his hips rested against
the desk, one of his hands gripping the table’s board while the other held the
register up above, bottom against his stomach. The man really had the prettiest
hands. Long, thick but not fat fingers that moved firmly and yet so gently they
almost looked like leaves on branches. Then there was that ghost of stubble
that darkened the lower region of his square face, full lips that begged to be
bitten and-
“Ackles?”
Jensen looked up to his teacher’s eyes and they were staring right at him,
eyebrows raised in a unvoiced question, and so were the majority of his
classmates. The boy sat up and swallowed before raising his hand. Then Mr.
Collins went on with the list until it was over.
He closed the register with a loud snap and put it back on the desk before
turning to stand behind it.
“Ok, any of you who already knows the Russian alphabet?”
A girl from the second row raised her hand and the professor nodded in the
direction of the blackboard, getting the first lesson started.
**
The months passed really fast and yes, Jensen could only further concur to his
concern of his first day of class: WHY DID HE PICK RUSSIAN?!
Not only the language was a pain in the ass to learn, of course his teacher had
to be the hottest fucking dude he had ever had the pleasure to meet and on a
lucky day he looked like he had come out straight from a Russian daddy quality
porn. He also seemed to be quickly developing the strongest kink for the dude’s
accent which made it pretty hard to attend class every single day. But he had
to do that because if he skipped, he was fucked.
Today was not a cool day. He was pissed as soon as he set foot out of the bed
and it was one of those days when you can’t bring yourself to deal with
literally anything. This happened at least six times in a week for Jensen.
School was going to be a drag even more than usual and his last class, virgin
Mary save him, was Russian.
He was tired when he got there and he didn’t want to deal with Mr. Collins in
any way. He zoned out and pretended not to notice the black pants the man was
wearing, hugging his thighs so tightly that they folded at his crotch which,
thankfully, was partly covered by the jacket of the suit. He was so elegant,
that day, and Jensen had a really hard time not to stare and trying to
concentrate on the lesson instead. On top of it all, the man was also wearing a
blue tie that highlighted his eyes, as if there was any need at all.
And the glasses.. Jensen didn’t want to talk about that (me neither, ndr).
He didn’t know how he did it, but at some point he actually managed to plug his
mind to the real world. He’d rather have never do that when a hand was planted
on his own little desk linked to his chair.
Jensen looked up and surely enough Mr. Collins was looking down at him from his
transparent lens resting low on his perfectly straight nose.
“Ackles,” he uttered, waiting for the boy to respond.
“Yes, sir,” Jensen said.
“Tell me how would one say in Russian, uh-,” he lifted his stare in a pensive
gesture, locating his free hand on his own hip. “Let’s see. Answer this-“
Jensen felt his throat twist in knots and he wished he was somewhere else when
his nose pick up on the man’s scent. He was wearing perfume, a faint trail of
it still perceptible after a long day of work. If he wasn’t so nervous for
being interrogated at the time, his dick would be hardening in his pants
without any chance to vanquish it.
“Chto ty lyubish’?”
Jensen looked down with panicked eyes as he thought of an answer in a haste. He
didn’t know what to say and how to say it. He had been neglecting his studies
lately because he simply didn’t feel like it and needed some time to hung out
with friends and have fun. Life wasn’t all about future and profit after all..
maybe.
Well, he wasn’t that bad in Russian though. He understood just enough to know
that Mr. Collins was asking him what was his favorite thing, or so he hoped he
had gotten it right.
“I- hm. Ja-?”
He looked up at his teacher and the man nodded. Okay, that at least, the
pronoun, was right.
“Ja lyubish’-“
“First-person singular, Ackles.”
“Yeah, right,” he had no idea what he was saying. “Ja liubu-“
“Lyublyu. It’s an irregular verb,” Mr. Collins sighed and went on desperately
stroking his forehead. “We’ve been doing this for the last couple of weeks. How
come you haven’t learned the verb lyubit’!”
“Go on,” the teacher concluded, gesturing him to.
“Ja lyublyu.. pizza?” he finished in a hushed, shy tone, and the class cracked
up laughing.
“Pizza!” Mr. Collins echoed. “Can some of you tell Ackles how would a Russian
say that they love pizza?”
The boy in front of him stood up and turned to face them.
“Ja lyublyu pizzu, sir.”
“That’s right, Garth.”
Since when did Mr. Collins call his students by name? He felt humiliated by the
whole class but what stung the most was that he was ruining his chance to look
good in the teacher’s eyes. Also, since when did he start caring! It’s not as
if he could ever get into his teacher’s pants, after all. Yet, apparently, so
he hoped.
He felt his cheeks go red and forced himself not to stare at Mr. Collins’ ass
as he walked away towards his desk – although that could have made quite a
sight to commit to memory considering the trousers he was wearing that day.
With his back to the class, going through the pages of his book on the desk,
the teacher talked out loud one last time before moving on with the program.
“Ackles, I want to have a few words with you after class. Don’t leave when the
bells ring.”
What a nice day.
**
“What’s up with you?”
“Excuse me?”
The class was empty, everybody was already heading home while he was forced to
stay here for god only knows how long before he was dismissed, too. And now his
teacher was even treating him in an uncommon way that he didn’t know how to
deal with. Was this day ever going to end?
“I don’t know what you mean, sir,” Jensen breathed out holding the man’s gaze.
He was standing at the teacher’s desk while Mr. Collins was sitting behind it,
hands folded on top of the table in front of him. The glasses were raised,
resting on his head and causing some of his hair to steak up, and now that was
really distracting somehow.
“What I mean is that even though you’ve never missed a lesson, you’re one of
the less.. performing students of the class. I was only wondering why that is
so. Are you having trouble with the subject? You don’t like it?” The man
explained himself, eyes gone softer than what Jensen was used to see during
class. He had almost lost the sex-machine look in favor of a cute, harmless
puppy look. Almost.
“No, I-“ Jensen leaned forward unconsciously and tilted his head down for a
second, thinking of what to say. “I like Russian. It’s just.. I have trouble
focusing in class and I- I rarely study at home so I guess that I usually do
the most work in school to keep my grades up.”
Mr. Collins pushed two of his long fingers between the tie knot and his shirt,
loosening the former one in a calibrated movement. If only he didn’t know
better, Jensen would think that the man was teasing.
“I see. Then what is it that distracts you? What’s different from other
classes?”
“I don’t know,” Jensen answered all too quickly, looking down as he did so.
Anybody could have guessed that it was a lie. He perfectly knew who it was that
distracted him.
“Are you sure?” the man inquired, tilting his head to the side, almost
smirking. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s bothering you.”
Jensen didn’t answer but looked up. Mr. Collins was staring straight at him,
blue eyes so intense, a knowing look on his face. Jensen liked to think that he
imagined it, and it really was it. He had to put a leash on his imagination or
he would hardly outlive the year.
“I don’t like watching my students fail, Ackles,” the man said in a serious,
unbreakable tone. “What’s your name again?”
“Jensen.”
“Jensen, right,” and fuck, did Jensen love the way his name rolled around Mr.
Collins’ tongue with that sweet, damn hot eastern accent. “I urge you to stay
an hour longer any time we have class on the last period of the day. Will you
do that?”
“Is this-,” Jensen was taken aback. “Are you offering me private lessons?”
Mr. Collins smirked, looking directly at him.
“You can call it that, yeah.”
Jensen bit at his lip and after a second, he nodded strongly.
“Ok, then,” the boy smiled. “We can do that.”
“Great,” Mr. Collins smiled – fucking smiled. “I’ll see you in a week, then.
Learn the numbers up to a hundred if you don’t know them already.”
“Sure,” Jensen muttered pulling his bag on his back and getting ready to head
to the door. “Do svidaniya, Mr. Collins.”
The man bid goodbye with two fingers raised and smiled wolfishly at the leaving
boy.
“Do svidaniya, Jensen.”
And if as he turned around to step out of the room he saw his teacher check out
his ass, he was none the wiser.
**
A week passed by and he could feel anxiety rising up every day he got closer to
his private session with Mr. Collins. When the morning arrived, he woke up hard
in his pants and sexually frustrated to cosmic levels. He pressed his face to
the pillow and whined, bile making itself be felt in his throat.
He was about to call in sick, he really considered doing that, but he
remembered how Mr. Collins had smiled when he had accepted the deal the man had
offered him, and he forced himself out of bed. He needed all the strength he
could muster.
When he walked out of the house his erection had just managed to go soft.
Jensen was no fool and perfectly knew it didn’t bode well.
As the classes were done and done -all too soon for his liking- that day, he
found himself sitting at his chair for his last scheduled lesson. Yeah, because
after that he would be alone with his teacher that still hadn’t entered the
room.
Dean thought it strange. Mr. Collins was never late. Always perfectly punctual.
Then he unwillingly overheard two guys talking beside him.
“Bren, did you hear the news about Collins?”
“What?” Bren said in a nonplussed voice.
“Misha Collins isn’t his real name.”
“What do you say? How do you know?”
Jensen turned to gaze at them, confused. What could they possibly be going on
about?
“Yeah, Garth found the dude’s wallet on a bench outside of school and read his
ID card.”
“Did he find any condom?” Bren giggled like the stupid boy he was.
“What do you care?!”
“Don’t give a shit, actually. What is it, then?”
Jensen leaned in, trying to better hear the words since the class suddenly got
noisier.
“I don’t know. Too Stalin for me.”
“Man, that’s a really sad joke.”
Jensen tuned out and was about to tap Garth’s shoulder slouched in front of him
when Mr. Collins entered the room. Everything went quiet before the teacher
greeted them all with “zdravstvuyte”, then the lesson started.
**
Dmitri Tippens Krushnic. That was Mr. Collins real name.
Jensen managed to get it out of Garth before the bells rang to signal the end
of the lesson and of school – for most of them, at least. Not for Jensen.
He had spent the whole lesson trying to get Garth’s attention and at the same
time avoiding Mr. Collins’. What really happened, thought, was him trying to
abate his dick from popping up every single time the man stirred in his chair
and stood up. Today had been rough on the teacher, and Jensen could perfectly
see it in the way his hair was unruly beyond precedent, the shirt messy and not
tucked inside his dark blue jeans.
It looked like Mr. Collins was straight out of bed, and Jensen could only
imagine what he could be doing to him on a bed all throughout the lesson.
When class was over and everybody fled the room, he started feeling weird in
his stomach as if he drank too much liquids, bile coming up to say hi once
again, like this morning. He was so nervous he wished he could just throw up
and be done with it and go home. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it so far
so he was stuck there with the hot Russian teacher that mindlessly signed some
papers sitting at the desk in silence. For one little moment he hoped that Mr.
Collins had forgotten about their private lessons and started to stuff his
belongings in his bag. However, in so doing he caught the man’s attention who
lifted his eyes and laid the pen back down on the desk.
Mr. Collins lifted the glasses from his eyes and gently put them on the desk
alongside the papers.
“How are you, Jensen?” he asked in a happy tone.
“Alright, I guess?” the boy answered, much of question to his own confusion.
“Uh, you guess?” Mr. Collins smirked, Russian accent extremely marked in his
inquisition, but he didn’t give him time to rectify. “Come sit in the front row
and start doing the homework I assigned you for tomorrow while I finish grading
these tests. If there’s anything you don’t understand, don’t hesitate to ask.”
Jensen did as he was told and began doing the exercises in silence. But this
silence was too thick to endure. He felt uneasy and uncomfortable in his skin.
He did the best he could to focus but nothing seemed to work. His mind always
went to that thing he couldn't ignore.. that man. The very man that was sitting
right in front of him. And he couldn't help his eyes from traveling to him
every other second. Luckily enough, Mr. Collins was better than him at keeping
focus solely on the work at hand and never noticed him staring. That proved the
man didn’t care and of course didn’t feel like he felt. How stupid of him to
even let himself think such a thing.
Disappointed is how he felt, for the teacher didn’t catch him looking. After
that he felt embarrassed, and nothing was coming out of staying there.
His pen sat barely used in his hand and he stared down at it, mind absent and
empty of everything. He got suddenly brought back to reality when a deep, calm
voice filled the room.
“What is it, Jensen?”
He froze on the spot and raised his eyes to his teacher who was looking
straight at him, countenance unreadable. Maybe concerned.
“What?”
“You’re not here,” the man said. “I mean, you’re here but your mind is not.”
Jensen looked at his hands, then. What could he possibly tell him to make him
backtrack and go back what he was doing? He didn’t need this, he didn’t want
this.
“Tell me,” Mr. Collins urged him.
“I can’t, ok?” he blurted out. Only after he realized how impolite a thing it
was to say to a teacher and he looked at the man, about to apologize.
Mr. Collins stood up and walked around the desk.
“Ok,” he echoed, coming closer to Jensen’s little desk a positioning himself in
front of it.
The man grabbed the wooden table to the sides and leaned in, body bended in
half to bring his face closer to Jensen’s. Close, yes, but not enough. There
was still too much room between them, but that didn’t prevent Jensen from
drowning in the man’s eyes. They looked so menacing from the shortened
distance, just like the ocean.
“If you don’t want to tell me,” he said in a low growl that Jensen thought he
was hearing it from the man’s ribcage rather than his vocal chords. “Why don’t
we just fuck it out?”
As he said so, Mr. Collins’ eyes went down to his lips and Jensen felt the
chair disappear and the world collapse. For just a split of second he thought
he was dreaming one of his wet dreams, like the one he had waked to this
morning, but then his dick took interest and no, this was real.
He reached out tentatively with one of his hands and with his fingertips he
traced Mr. Collins’. As he started caressing the man’s arm upwards, he lifted
his eyes to the blue ones of his teacher who was still staring straight at him,
mouth slightly agape and tongue furtively wetting his lips in a hurry to not be
spotted.
Jensen would be a liar if he said he wasn’t afraid of having sex with a man way
older than him and a teacher at that! There were so many things that were so
wrong, like fucking in school for example. But how could he not take him up
with that offer?
That beautiful face, those high cheekbones, sexy scruff-covered jaw, those blue
eyes so deep and intense that dragged you in without you even realizing, dark
toned skin that looked like he sunbathed in the middle of November, the thighs
so full and powerful looking that made his knees feel like jelly whenever he
thought of all the good use they could be used for in bed. How could he say no
to that hot as fuck of an accent Mr. Collins had?
The teacher broke his train of thoughts when he gently gripped his wandering
hand and brought it up to his mouth. Dry, chapped lips connected to the back of
it, and just that felt amazing. The man covered it with kisses before urging
him to stand up, still holding him by the hand. He pulled the student in until
his body was at the man’s reach.
Mr. Collins raised his other hand and pressed it to the boy’s chest while still
holding the other tight. His palm started feeling him up, those beautiful, long
fingers massaging his body, slowly, up and down on his pectoral. It felt
caring, if only that wasn’t just supposed to be fucking.
When the pressure on his chest disappeared and two fingers gently grazed his
chin, he realized that his head was lowered, purposefully not meeting the man’s
gaze.
“Jensen,” Mr. Collins murmured while slowly forcing him to look up – not that
he really had to force him once he had realized. “Are you ok with this?”
Jensen did not waste time and nodded, staring back up at him, this time. He was
so handsome this close, cheekbones wide and perky. He thought the matter was
settled, but apparently not for his teacher. He kept asking for permission,
tone hushed in a way that felt so intimate.
Mr. Collins moved his hand from the boy’s chin to the jaw, slowly driving all
the way to his hair to massage his nape.
“Me touching you like this?”
Jensen nodded again and Mr. Collins leaned down to kiss his jaw open mouthed.
The boy inhaled sharply and stilled in the man’s hold. The teacher felt it, of
course and refrained from moving on.
He looked at the boy without straightening back up and murmured in his ear.
“If you don’t want this we can stop and forget this ever happened.”
Mr. Collins let him go then, turning quickly and walking back to his desk,
collecting all of his stuff and gathering it in his bag.
Jensen looked at him petrified. He didn’t know what to do. He was scared,
shitless, yes. But he wanted the man more than he was afraid.
He forced his fingers close tight in a fist at his sides and approached his
teacher from behind. He bumped into him and pressed him against the desk. He
shifted his weight all on his toes in an effort to get the closest to Mr.
Collins’ ears and he managed quite well.
“I want you to fuck me on this desk, right here, like I’ve never been fucked
before, sir,” he basically moaned and he was pretty sure he felt the man shiver
against him. “Or shall I say, Dmitri.”
Mr. Collins turned his head so fast and looked at him with confusion, but
Jensen only gripped the man’s hips and pushed up against him, letting him feel
his dick, half hard in his pants.
He pressed a kiss to the side of his teacher cheek and the man immediately
responded by rotating his body and trying to lick him in response. Jensen gave
in and let him do just that. He split his own mouth apart and let Mr. Collins’
tongue dive in, wet and warm against the walls of his orifice. He shut his eyes
and let the man guide him through it. Then he felt a hand against his cheek
while his teacher’s ass started rutting against his dick, still covered by the
denim.
He groaned in the man’s mouth and pressed against him even more, if that was
even possible.
Mr. Collins apparently had the same thing in mind and reached behind, pressing
the palm of his hand to Jensen’s ass to help him get closer. Meanwhile, they
were still kissing and the boy was surprised by how long he could keep himself
balanced, especially with how excited he was. His knees were starting to feel
weak and he unwillingly broke the kiss.
“Dmitri,” he moaned. “Bring it out.”
The teacher shoved him off and turned on his heels. He obeyed.
His hands flew to his fly and he unzipped his jeans with calibrated movements.
Without letting them fall he reached inside his briefs and slowly pulled out
his still flaccid cock. He fisted it and jerked it a few times while he took in
the boy’s disheveled figure. And Jensen did the same.
Mr. Collins already looked so fucked out and he wasn’t even excited yet. His
lips were so full and kissable they made his dick throb, and as he watched him
standing there, back against his desk while he masturbated, Jensen felt the
urge to grab something or he would faint.
“Come here,” the teacher told him with his Russian accent stronger than usual,
jacking himself slowly. He was almost hard now.
Jensen stepped closer and as soon as he was at hand’s reach, Mr. Collins fisted
the boy’s shirt to pull him forward. He kissed him hard and fast, pressing
their chests together. The man encased his head in his hands and he wished he
was naked so that he could feel that gorgeous cock push against his stomach.
When his teacher leaned back, Jensen looked at him in the eyes. The blue has
subdued to make room for the deep, dark black of his pupils, and his soft look
had something predatory in it.
“Have you ever sucked a cock, Jensen?” Mr. Collins said as he cupped the boy’s
jaw with his cock slick covered hand. He slowly ran his thumb along his bottom
lip, and as Jensen lapped at it to wet it, he tasted salty aroma of the man's
fluids
.
“No,” Jensen murmured before slipping his tongue past his lips and trying to
taste more of the man’s slick.
“Care to try?” The man said, accent making it sound dirtier, therefore hotter.
“Taste it.”
He pushed his finger inside Jensen’s mouth and the boy closed his eyes,
savoring it. He licked it all and it wasn’t enough. Mr. Collins watched
entranced as his student started to run his tongue all over his palm, lapping
every finger and sucking clean in between them.
The man didn’t need to do or say anything, that the boy was sinking on his
knees before him. Blue eyes looked at him while he studied his cock from so
close, then Jensen took him in hand and the teacher moaned. Jensen jacked him a
couple of times before licking the head of it and bobbing his head once for the
sake of trying. As the boy started to get the feel of it and put effort in what
he was doing, Mr. Collins had to refrain from groaning out loud for the whole
school to hear.
“Such a good boy,” Jensen heard him say before feeling one of the man’s big
hands coming to rest on his head, guiding him on his cock. “A sweet, fucking
pretty, good boy.”
He went on for a while and his knees were starting to hurt, but not as much as
his cock that was really close to beg to be freed. He was glad when his teacher
talked again.
“Stand up.”
As he did, Jensen noticed the papers -that were formerly on the desk- scattered
on the floor and a little bottle of lube and a condom replacing them. Mr
Collins squeezed some on his fingers and started to rub and spread it around
“Take your pants off and bend over,” he said firmly as he gestured towards the
desk.
Jensen undid his jeans and let them fall on the floor followed by his boxers.
He knew what was to come, and excitement filled his body. He pulled his shirt
up and pressed his chest flat to the hard wood of the desk careful not to hurt
his parts in the process, his dick pushing against his belly and his heavy
balls hanging down.
He whimpered when he felt a hand palming one of his ass cheeks. It squeezed him
and god it felt so good already, and he wasn’t even doing anything. Then he
gripped his cheek tight and parted it from the other. Jensen felt so exposed
and if he wasn’t so excited he would almost hump the table, he would be
blushing like he never did in his life. But after that, he felt it. A wet,
fresh, slick, soft thing running down his ass crack to stop at his hole. He
felt his knees shake and moaned aloud.
“Hush, Jen,” Mr. Collins said, and he would have appreciated the nickname he
gave him if only he had other things keeping his mind busy at the moment. “You
don’t want other people hearing us.”
“I’m- sorry,” he managed to spit out in between harsh breaths.
“It’s okay.”
There it was again, his teacher’s tongue running around his hole, wetting it
and teasing it. It felt like nothing more than an itch, forcing his way in
places where it wasn’t supposed to be, that felt so prohibited to him. That
same tongue that rolled off each words with that unique mark, that sweet accent
that sparked up his libido the right amount more. He moaned again against his
fist as Mr. Collins spat on his hole, saliva catching on his hole and dripping
further down until they reached his sac. The man started massaging it,
spreading all over his balls and the sensitive expanse of skin right above
them. Then the man’s hand went down and wrapped around his dick, gripping it
tight before he started the pumping movement, up and down it went. Up and down.
Jensen had never felt this good and taken care of.
Suddenly the mouth was back on his hole, kissing it and sucking all the saliva
off of him, even the drops that had found their way inside. He started licking
once again and moaned against him, vibrations sent all through his body. It
wasn’t just a feel now, Jensen was shivering under all his teacher’s
attentions; a hand jacking him off as the man was milking him, and a tongue
penetrating him and making him feel things he had never thought he could feel.
Before he could come the hand on his cock stopped and the tongue was retracted.
He didn’t dare speak for he knew other things were about to happen. Indeed, he
felt a finger pushing its way inside him. It was unpleasant, but he could take
it. When the time for the second one came, he still feel like it was not too
much, although he felt not full, but it was starting to get to him. Then the
third, and the fourth, and he was trying to not spill the tears that threatened
to fall from his eyes. His teeth were gritted and his erection was long gone.
Mr. Collins tried to soothe him by caressing the boy’s back and pumping his
soft dick for a while. It was a long, painful process, but in the end Jensen
felt himself relax and the fingers stopped catching on his rim at every push
in. When the pain was low enough for him to enjoy the pleasure that came from
his teacher’s fingers, his cock filled up once again. He found it was so good
having Mr. Collins working him open, he felt eager to try his cock instead.
When his teacher removed his fingers he felt so empty he couldn’t help the
whine that escaped his mouth.
Mr. Collins soothed him by caressing the length of his back with a hand before
pressing his whole body against him, covering him completely.
“Do you feel alright?”
Jensen nodded, facing him. The man was beautiful.
He leaned closer and pressed his lips to his teacher that kept his own sealed.
When the boy started licking them, he let him in, allowing him to taste himself
in his mouth. After he was done, Mr. Collins smiled softly to him, and surely
enough he smiled back.
“Did you study the numbers?”
Jensen furrowed his brow in confusion.
“What?”
“The other day I told you to study the numbers in Russian up to a hundred,” his
teacher clarified.
“Oh,” the boy whispered faintly. “Yeah?”
“Good,” the man smirked. “I want you to tell me what you learned while I pound
your ass.”
Jensen gasped, but couldn’t find of a valid come back that Mr. Collins had
resumed a standing position. He quickly grabbed the condom and rolled it on,
positioning the head of his cock at the boy’s entrance.
“Ok, Jens, relax.”
Jensen let the air out of his lungs and tried to thing on anything that would
make him relieve. He tried really hard but everything was damned the second he
felt his teacher first push in.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” the man moaned as the head slipped in, making the boy
gasp. After that, though, he went all the way in smoothly.
Jensen heard his teacher moan in relief once he was sheathed in, and it was so
hot he could feel his balls contract from how close he was to release already.
“Fuck me, please,” he found himself begging. He wanted his teacher’s cock
hitting his prostate over and over until he felt his ass burning, and he wanted
to hear the man’s balls slap on his ass although for that he would have to wait
another round since the jeans the man had around his ankles would contain his
movements way too much.
“I am going to push inside while you count. A number, one drive in. You go up
to a hundred, after twenty you can count in tens. I’m going to fuck you for
good after you’re finished, so that you can finally come on my cock.”
Jensen groaned but tried to clear his head just enough to focus on fucking
Russian while he was in the middle of being fucked by his teacher in fucking
school. It was an hard task but in the end he had studied, so everything must
have been stashed in his head somewhere, right?
“Odin,” Jensen breathed out.
“Da,” one sharp move out and in of Mr. Collins’ hips, and Jensen cried out as
the man’s cock sank hard into him.
“Dva.”
“Da.”
And Jensen moaned.
“Tri,” he groaned out loud, lost in bliss.
“Da,” this once, his teacher moaned too when he bottomed out.
“Chetyre.”
“Da.”
Jensen’s moan was cut out when a hand wrapped around his balls and squeezed,
making the orgasm that was mounting subside.
“Fuck,” he gasped.
“That’s not a number,” Mr. Collins remarked, teacher tone perfectly spoken if
only a little bit breathy. His hips stilled as he waited for the boy to keep
going.
“Pyat’.”
“Da.” Jensen tried to keep his lips sealed, but loud sounds escaped him anyway.
He went on and managed on counting to a hundred like his teacher asked of him.
“Sto,” he finally uttered.
“Pravil’no,” Mr. Collins told him, and with no further saying he started
fucking the boy restlessly.
Jensen slumped down on the desk and let himself go limp. He had guessed right,
those powerful thighs were good to something if the quick, perfectly aimed way
he fucking his ass was any indication. His knees had been out of order for
quite some time now, he couldn’t stand for the sake of it, and he didn’t even
try.
The hand that first kept his balls tight shut was now running up to his
shoulders together with the other one. Once they reached them, they hold on
tight. If it was even possible, they helped his teacher fuck him even deeper on
his cock.
From Mr. Collins mouth fell an endless prayer of pleasured moans and words in
Russian that Jensen couldn’t understand, but it didn’t matter.
He felt his own balls contract and his load sputtered all over the floor. Mr.
Collins drove into him faster and faster, until he groaned out loud and came
too.
Jensen couldn’t move. He was tired and his mind was in a haze of post coital
pleasure and dizziness.
He didn’t even notice when Mr. Collins entered his vision in front of him,
jeans already zipped up around his hips and condom most likely disposed of. The
man leaned down and caressed Jensen’s hair, bringing a lock of it that had
attached itself on the boy’s forehead, drenched in sweat. He pressed kiss all
along Jensen’s side of his face, covering every spot available with lazy trail
of his lips. He reached to the boy’s mouth and left a kiss there, too. So kind
that the kid couldn’t help but smiling into it.
“Did you enjoy it?” The man asked tentatively.
Jensen gained some strength and pushed himself up, grabbing his jeans and
boxers from the floor and dressing back up.
“Lots,” he happily uttered, smiling with his chin against his chest as he tried
not to fall. He was almost done when he lost balance. He wouldn’t have stumbled
to the floor, but he didn’t even have to make an effort not to because a hand
was immediately around him to keep him up.
“Thanks,” he murmured shyly at his teacher, looking him up in a swift roll of
eyes.
“Be careful,” the man whispered back, close enough to him to be heard.
After he was done and presentable for the rest of the world to see, Jensen
grabbed his bag and headed for the door, unsure on what to say and what to do.
He opted not to go for a kiss because that’s not expected out of this kind of
relationship, right?
His hand touched the door handle when the blue eyed man spoke, accent
unmistakably Russian and unmistakably hot, even for the still blissed out
teenager.
“Jensen,” he turned to face him. The man was standing next to the desk, a hand
barely brushing its surface while he was turned his way. He looked… expectant..
if anything. “How do you know my real name?”
“Dmitri?”
Mr. Collins smiled and nodded. “Yeah, that.”
“Well,” he started, then something came to his mind and the boy started
grinning widely. “Maybe you should fuck it out of me the next time.”
Mr. Collins’ eyes went wild, obviously not having expected anything of the kind
by then.
“Sounds good to me,” the man said, nodding once in his direction.
And right then and there Jensen couldn’t keep it in. He sprinted to his teacher
and almost crashed into him before he stopped, pushed up on the tip of his toes
and pressed a kiss to the man’s lips. Mr. Collins wasn’t expecting this either,
because his hands took a while to reach him and hold him tight, but when they
did they were roaming all over his back and hair. It felt amazing, but at some
point the boy had to leave, and he did so with no further word.
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