Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8713018.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Hamilton_-_Miranda
  Relationship:
      Alexander_Hamilton_&_George_Washington, Alexander_Hamilton/George
      Washington
  Character:
      Alexander_Hamilton, George_Washington
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_Sex, Teacher-Student_Relationship, Semi-Public_Sex, Hand_&
      Finger_Kink, Daddy_Kink, Hair-pulling, semi_slow_build, literally_like
      till_chapter_5, Pain_Kink, Feminization, Blow_Jobs, Shower_Sex, kind_of,
      Hand_Jobs, Sex_Toys, Dom/sub_Undertones, Orgasm_Delay/Denial, Aftercare
  Series:
      Part 1 of How_Lucky_We_Are
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-01 Completed: 2017-01-02 Chapters: 23/23 Words: 36863
****** Spark Into A Flame ******
by Underling
Summary
     Hands.
     Strong, godly hands.
     How they would feel holding onto Alexander. Running over his arms.
     Making him writhe and moan and-
     “Ten minutes,” a voice announces, startling Alexander back to
     reality.
     Not just any reality, of course, but the reality of the man he had
     just been fantasizing about, standing a few rows in front of him. In
     front of his desk.
     “Idiot,” he mumbles to himself, running a hand through his hair.
     The paper in front of him remains blank and as he glances around, no
     one else’s papers are in the same state as his own.
     He looks up again, locking eyes with the owner of the voice. His
     teacher. How can one person be so stupid?
Notes
     Like it says in the warnings and in the tags, this is underage.
     Alexander is 17 in the beginning of the story and George is like
     around his early 40's.
     I'm a bad person, I'm very aware.
     See ya all in hell.
     Also, all mistakes are mine, cause I ain't got no one to beta it.
     Oh well.
     I'll add tags as it progresses.
***** Chapter One *****
Chapter Summary
     Alexander has an enormous problem.
     That enormous problem being plain and simple, standing in front of
     him every single day.
     Who's stupid enough to fantasize about their own teacher?
     Oh that's right. Alexander is.
Chapter Notes
     This is my first story, so bear with me.
     Hope you enjoy.
Hands.
Strong, godly hands.
How they would feel holding onto Alexander. Running over his arms.
Making him writhe and moan and-
“Ten minutes,” a voice announces, startling Alexander back to reality.
Not just any reality, of course, but the reality of the man he had just been
fantasizing about, standing a few rows in front of him. In front of his desk.
“Idiot,” he mumbles to himself, running a hand through his hair.
The paper in front of him remains blank and as he glances around, no one else’s
papers are in the same state as his own.
He looks up again, locking eyes with the owner of the voice. His teacher. How
can one person be so stupid?
Fantasizing about his teacher. His probably married teacher. He’s got a ring on
his left hand, a simple silver band. Though he never talks of a wife. He has no
pictures of a wife on his desk.
It’s as though, while she may exist, she doesn’t at all. Or perhaps they’re
divorced, maybe he never took the elegant ring off. Maybe she died in a
terrible accident.
Alexander wouldn’t actually know.
“Five minutes,” the voice booms, startling Alexander once again. His eyes are
still on Alexander, and he cocks his head, a silent question.
Alexander gives a slightly bashful smile, shaking his head and looking back
down, cursing to himself.
Twenty problems.
Five minutes.
He can do this.
The bell rings before he’s finished, and he furiously marks down the last few
answers, unsure if they are correct or not.
“Remember, I am grading these on completion,” his teacher tells the class, as
each student files up and lays their own paper face down on a pile. “If you’ve
answered none, you’ll fail. If you’ve answered all, you’ll pass.”
Alexander looks at his paper, flipping it over again and again. It’s only one
page; the only questions are true or false. It’s a 50 – 50 chance. But they’re
all answered. His grade is fine.
“Alexander?” he’s still looking down at his paper, head snapping up at the
sound of the voice.
No one else is in the room, and he can vaguely hear cars starting outside.
Everyone on their way home for the day.
He should be on his way home.
How long has he been sitting here?
Long enough for the room to clear out.
Five minutes? Ten? More?
“Alexander,” the voice says again, forcing Alexander to leave his own mind and
focus on his teacher.
“Mr. Washington?” he questions, moving to stand from his spot.
“Are you alright? Do you need more time?” the question is only asked out of
politeness, Alexander knows better than to say yes.
“No,” he tells him, not a lie. “I’m in my mind. Zoned off. Just thinking,
sorry, sir,” he mumbles, picking his bag up. His back only slightly protests by
now, already accustomed to the unnecessary weight of the books he carries.
His teacher laughs, once, and it makes Alexander blush slightly, so he busies
himself with making sure he’s picked everything up, waiting for the heat to
recede from his face before turning towards the man again.
He walks down the few rows, glancing out the one window in the room. The
student parking lot is deserted, not a teenager in sight.
“How are you, Mr. Hamilton?” Washington questions, taking the paper from him
and glancing over it. “Is everything okay at home?”
Alexander bristles, face contorting in almost anger.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” he asks lowly, looking up at the man.
“You seem unfocused,” is the only explanation he gets, and his teacher isn’t
even looking at him as he says it. “I only want to make sure your…” he trails
off, seeming to search for the right words.
“Make sure my foster family isn’t abusing me?” Alexander asks, immediately
regretting the choice of words as soon as they have left his lips.
Washington frowns, looking down at him. He leans on his desk, not quite
sitting, not quite standing. “You aren’t being abused, correct?”
Alexander almost laughs. “I’m not. Want me to strip so you can check for any
bruises?”
He teacher raises an eyebrow, and Alexander is sure he only imagines the one up
he is given.
“Have a nice break, Alexander,” his teacher tells him. “I’ll see you when you
get back to school. Preferably still wearing clothes.”
Alexander blushes, nodding quickly, before hurrying out the class door.
And if he heard soft laughter drifting from the room he had just left, well, he
must have simply imagined that as well.
***** Chapter Two *****
Chapter Summary
     A car drives past him, windows tinted, painted a sleek black.
     He knew that car.
     How did he know that car?
     He fumbled for answers in his mind, though none were presenting
     themselves.
     But the car was already gone, speeding over a hill. The sound of its
     engine a distant memory.
The first thing Alexander notices on his walk home is how cold it is.
Clouds had gathered overhead, at what time, he didn’t know. Perhaps minutes
ago, perhaps even hours.
He tugged the hood of his incredibly worn hoodie over his head, staring down at
the sidewalk. He vaguely remembered the forecast calling for rain and glancing
up, he could see that the clouds were dark. Just waiting to begin pouring. He
could only hope it would hold off until he reached the foster house.
Of course, hope is a funny thing; no matter how much hope Alexander seemed to
have, it never mattered. Things would go the complete opposite way, ninety-nine
percent of the time.
The first drop hit him only a few minutes after the school had disappeared from
his view. He still had nearly half an hour to walk.
“Dammit,” he muttered to himself, glancing around for any place he could seek
shelter.
He could always call his foster parents, course; it wouldn’t do him any good.
They weren’t in the state, hell, he didn’t even know if they were in the
country right now.
They weren’t made to be parents; maybe that’s why they never had any kids of
their own. They constantly traveled for business, though Alexander wasn’t even
sure what they did for a living. He had been with them for his entirety of high
school, and he barely knew them.
The library is the first building he sees, though he knew the schedule, and it
would be closing in less than an hour, the storm brewing would need more time
than that.
Perhaps if he ran, he could make it home. Though he knew with his book bag,
that running was going to be a nearly impossible feat.
He pulled out his phone, intent on texting one of his friends.
John was his first choice, though his mind readily supplied that both he and
Lafayette were on the basketball team, so that wouldn’t work. Practice went on
for another few hours. Hercules would already be at work, and he could never
get time off. Even if that time was used to save his friend from drowning in a
downpour.
A car drives past him, windows tinted, painted a sleek black.
He knew that car.
How did he know that car?
He fumbled for answers in his mind, though none were presenting themselves.
But the car was already gone, speeding over a hill. The sound of its engine a
distant memory.
Alexander shoved his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, deciding he would
just brave the storm, no matter how bad it would get. He was used to it, his
childhood prepared him for now.
He had slowly gotten over his fear of storms, nothing could be as terrible as
what he had witnessed as a child.
Another drop of rain. Larger than the last one.
“Fuck,” he muttered, moving his feet just a little bit faster.
He had to find some type of shelter, or else his books would be toast. He was
almost proud of himself for leaving his laptop at home that morning.
He didn’t have much time to congratulate himself before the downpour began.
It took seconds for him to be soaked through his hoodie, shirt, and ratty
jeans.
“Why me?” he questioned aloud, though no one was around to hear him. And if
anyone was, well, they weren’t making themselves known.
Up ahead he watched a bolt of lightning strike somewhere, followed quickly by a
crash of thunder.
The noise of the rain hitting rooftops nearly completely camouflaged the sound
of an approaching car; Alexander only noticed it as it came to a stop a few
yards ahead of him.
He watched the window roll down, and he frowned, slowly, slowly, making his way
towards it.
This is how I die,' he thought to himself, even as he looked into the car.'
“Alexander,” dammit. He knew that voice, he didn’t even need to see the driver.
“Get in, it’s freezing. The last thing you need is to end up in the hospital
because you thought a nice walk in the rain would be fun.”
Alexander tried to be angry, though the only retort that came from him was
muddled by shivers coursing through his body.
If he were smarter, he would say no. Offer some vague excuse about wanting to
walk home.
But he was not, and he gingerly climbed into the car, setting his soaked bag on
the floorboard.
“I’m wet,” he pointed out the obvious, shaking his head at himself. Smooth
Hamilton.
But his teacher only laughed, nodding his head. “I noticed.”
“Your seats are going to get wet,” Alexander added, almost feeling sorry for
it. Almost.
“I’ll get them repaired,” Washington waved him off, rolling up the window and
beginning to drive again. “Cold?”
“No,” Alexander answered quickly, far too quickly. It was a lie, of course, and
he knew his teacher could tell. It wasn’t like Alexander was shaking just to do
it.
His teacher only hummed, reaching one hand forward and turning up the heat.
“Where do you live?” Washington asked, reaching a red light.
Alexander looked around, noticing the lack of cars on the road.
“About fifteen minutes away,” he told him, pointing in the vicinity.
“Your foster parents home?”
“What is this, twenty-one questions?” Alexander snapped, crossing his arms.
“I’m going to take that as a no,” his teacher murmured, driving again. “Where
are they?”
“Work,” Alexander muttered, staring out the window. Leave it to his top fantasy
to start asking him questions like this. Personal questions. Questions even he
didn’t know the answer to.
“Where do they work?” it really was twenty-one questions, Alexander had
decided.
“Around,” was his only answer.
Washington groaned, pulling onto a curb, turning his body to face Alexander.
And those hands. They were on full display for Alexander, and he forced himself
to think about anything other than what they could do to him.
John after eating the raw meat. That time the toilets in the school backed up.
Naked grandmas.
Those hands roaming over his-
He blushed, looking like he had been caught, even if his teacher couldn’t read
into his mind.
Speaking of his teacher, Washington was looking at him like he was waiting for
an answer.
'Shit, what did he ask?'
“Uh, what?” Alexander said quickly, giving a slightly apologetic smile.
“Your foster parents,” Washington said, rubbing his face. “Where are they?”
Alexander groaned, shaking his head. “Probably in Paris. Maybe Belgium. I don’t
honestly know, sir,” he grumbled. “They travel a lot.”
Washington watched him for a few moments, before turning back to the road,
driving again.
It only took a few seconds for Alexander to realize they were going to opposite
way of his house.
“Where are we going?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.
Washington stared out the windshield, focusing on watching the road through the
storm.
“My apartment,” was the response. “I can’t leave an underage kid alone. When
you get there, you can tell your foster parents where you’re staying. And that
they can get you there when they return.”
Alexander huffed. “They’ll probably be gone for another month, or a week at the
least,” he told him. “I’ve stayed home alone before. It’s not exactly
difficult.”
Washington looked over, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Well, then I guess you’ll just have to learn how to live without difficulty in
the comfort of a house with someone else in it.”
Alexander mumbled under his breath. “Thought you said you lived in an
apartment?”
Washington chuckled, pulling into a parking garage. “Well, technically, yes.”
Alexander could barely glance at the building through the opening of the
garage.
“That’s not an apartment building,” he mumbled. “That’s like a fucking mansion
building.”
'That doesn’t make sense,' he chastised himself.
“I live on the top floor,” Washington told him, waving off what he had said.
“There’s two bedrooms, a master bath and a guest, a living room, kitchen,
dining area. We barely even have to see each other.”
'I’d like to see more of you,' Alexander thought, blushing deeply again.
“So you live in the penthouse?” Alexander questioned, trying to get his mind
away from the road it was taking.
“Per say,” Washington agreed, parking the car. “Now come along, I’ve got much
to show you.”
'Surely not what I want to see,' he thought to himself.
***** Chapter Three *****
Chapter Summary
     There was both a shower and a bath. The shower had glass walls that
     reached all the way to the ceiling, and a large metal overhang at the
     top, obviously some type of showerhead. There were more dials and
     buttons than Alexander could ever know what to do with.
     The bath was simpler, only one dial, but he could see rows of jets
     along the bottoms and sides.
     ‘That could be fun,’ he thought to himself, though he quickly shook
     the thought from his head.
     He began peeling his clothes off, only have a little difficulty with
     them sticking to his skin. It was a more than uncomfortable fight
     between him and the wet fabric.
     It was only then that he had a sudden realization. He had absolutely,
     positively, no idea how to work the shower.
There was absolutely no way that this was an apartment building.
Maybe a hotel, but not apartments. It was huge, fancy; there was even a
doorman.
“This is where you live?” Alexander asked quietly, as though if he spoke too
loud he would ruin the appeal.
“Yes,” the answer was gruff.
Alexander looked up at his teacher, whom nodded at the doorman, one of his
hands coming to rest on Alexander’s shoulder, guiding him towards an elevator.
Those hands could make him melt, become a puddle on the floor. But he kept
walking forward, forcing one foot in front of the other.
They stepped into the elevator, which lived up to all Alexander’s expectations.
The back and sidewalls were golden, shined to the point of being mirrors. It
gave Alexander time to look at his teacher, without being caught.
Washington pressed a button, his hand falling from Alexander’s shoulder,
hanging loosely at his side.
He was huge, Alexander knew that much, but looking at him in the reflection, he
nearly towered over Alexander.
The elevator dinged, causing Alexander to jump slightly, and then the hand was
there again, pressing lightly on his lower back, guiding him as the door
opened.
“I’ll show you to the guest room,” Washington murmured, pushing him towards the
left. “It’s not as big as the master, but it will suffice.”
They reached a closed door, and Washington reached forward to open it, hand not
leaving Alexander’s back. “Here it is.”
The room itself was huge, black carpet, black walls, though the bed in the
center was made up with dark red blankets, multiple pillows adorning the top of
it. Bedposts of dark wood, probably oak, were reaching towards the ceiling, a
canopy in matching dark red on top.
“Wow,” Alexander whispered, taking a step in. “This is…wow.”
“It’s not as impressive as the rest of the place,” Washington started to say,
causing Alexander to turn and look at him.
“This room is as big as my foster home,” he told him quickly.
Washington’s eyebrows drew together, a look of confusion written across his
face. “You must be joking.”
Alexander shook his head. “Not in the slightest,” he whispered, walking farther
into the room. “It’s amazing.”
There was a quiet laugh behind him, though Alexander chose to ignore it, and he
moved to the bed, sitting on the edge of it.
The comforter was soft, and it cushioned him as he fell back onto it.
He closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the room wrap around him, only
opening them again when he heard his teacher clear his throat.
He turned his head to the side, looking at the man hovering in the doorway,
looking as massive as always.
“Yes, sir?” Alexander asked softly, looking at him quizzically.
“Do you want to shower?” Washington questioned, voice sounding somewhat
strained. “And perhaps some dry clothes?”
Alexander pursed his lips, not wanting to leave the warmth surrounding him,
though he knew he was probably making the blankets beneath him wet as well.
“I could shower,” he murmured. “But I don’t have any clean clothes,” he added
apologetically.
Washington waved a hand slightly, shaking his head. “You can borrow a shirt of
mine, I’m sure it would be large enough, and I’ll wash yours.”
Alexander was unwilling to admit how much he liked that idea, how incredibly
hot he found it.
“Yeah, sure,” he said, trying to make himself sound as uninterested as
possible. “I guess that would be okay.”
Washington nodded, disappearing from the doorway.
Alexander turned his head again, looking back up at the ceiling. “Wow,” he
mumbled to himself, shaking his head slightly. The mere thought of the
apartment baffled him.
Washington reappeared only a few minutes later, holding a large gray shirt in
one of those amazing hands. His other held a pair of black boxers, though he
was holding those more loosely than the shirt, as though he was embarrassed.
Which, of course, wouldn’t surprise Alexander in the least.
“Thanks,” Alexander murmured, standing up quickly and taking the clothes from
him. “Uh, bathroom?”
Washington took a small step back, pointing to a room only a few doors away,
Alexander wondered for a second what was behind those closed doors.
“Thanks,” Alexander said. “Again,” he trailed off, smiling politely before
making his way towards the room.
The bathroom didn’t disappoint. It was much like the guest bedroom; the only
difference being that the floor was black tile rather than carpet. The toilet
was white porcelain, looking like it had never been used, and Alexander was
worried that he’d actually need to go to the restroom during this stay.
There was both a shower and a bath. The shower had glass walls that reached all
the way to the ceiling, and a large metal overhang at the top, obviously some
type of showerhead. There were more dials and buttons than Alexander could ever
know what to do with.
The bath was simpler, only one dial, but he could see rows of jets along the
bottoms and sides.
‘That could be fun,’ he thought to himself, though he quickly shook the thought
from his head.
He began peeling his clothes off, only have a little difficulty with them
sticking to his skin. It was a more than uncomfortable fight between him and
the wet fabric.
It was only then that he had a sudden realization. He had absolutely,
positively, no idea how to work the shower.
He looked around, quickly finding a towel and wrapping it around his waist.
“Let’s get this over with,” he mumbled to himself, stepping out of the shower
and glancing around.
“Mr. Washington?” he called out, walking slowly.
It didn’t take long to find his teacher, standing in front of a large window in
the living room, staring out into the city.
His teacher seemed deep in thought, and he started when Alexander spoke,
turning to face him.
There was no possible way Alexander imagined the once over he was given. Not
this time.
“Alexander?” it was said in a questioning tone of voice, the sound strained, as
though Washington was holding back from saying something else. “Do you need
help?”
Alexander blushed, glancing down at the floor. “I don’t know how to work your
shower,” he whispered.
Washington laughed, a bellowing sound, low and resonating. “My apologies, I
didn’t think about that.”
His teacher walked towards him, turning him around and guiding him once again
with a hand on his lower back.
“Why don’t we get that shower started for you, then.”
***** Chapter Four *****
Chapter Summary
     He closed his eyes, letting himself become accustomed to the water
     itself. He ran his fingers through his hair, humming softly to
     himself.
     When he opened his eyes, he could fool himself into thinking that the
     bathroom door was opened a little bit more than before.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Washington stepped inside the bathroom, Alexander standing somewhat awkwardly
behind him.
His teacher opened the shower door, revealing that it didn’t extend to the top
of the shower, stopping a few feet below and breaking away from the other
glass.
“Here,” Washington murmured, gesturing to one of the dials. “This one adjusts
the temperature,” he told him, moving to another one. “This one changes how
hard or soft the water comes out,” he pointed at the last one. “And this one
changes how much area the water comes out,” he looked up at the showerhead.
Alexander nodded slowly, though he knew he wouldn’t remember it the next time
he showered. “Thank you,” he murmured.
“How hot do you want it?” Washington asked him, cocking his head to the side.
Alexander flushed, face heating up. “How hot do you think I should have it?”
His teacher raised an eyebrow, as though he was wondering in what way Alexander
had meant that comment, but he only turned on the shower. “Probably not too
hot,” he murmured. “Don’t want it too uncomfortable.”
Alexander nodded, watching the shower slowly fill out the entire area of the
showerhead, and he noticed Washington was focusing on making sure the water
wasn’t coming out too hard.
“There you go,” his teacher decided, stepping back from the doorway of the
shower. “Tell me if it feels okay?”
Alexander nodded, stepping forward and reaching his hand under the spray of
water. “That’s great,” he told Washington. “Thank you.”
Washington nodded, turning around and walking out of the bathroom, disappearing
in the direction of the living room.
Alexander huffed softly; shutting the door, though he didn’t shut it
completely, hoping maybe his teacher would take it as an invitation. He knew it
was a long shot, but he could always hope.
He dropped his towel and stepped into the shower, letting out an involuntary
gasp. The shower at his foster house was pretty generic, it never reached quite
the right temperature, and the water came out uncomfortably, not to mention he
always had to turn to get water all over himself. The showerhead Washington
had, covered him completely.
He closed his eyes, letting himself become accustomed to the water itself. He
ran his fingers through his hair, humming softly to himself.
When he opened his eyes, he could fool himself into thinking that the bathroom
door was opened a little bit more than before.
Alexander shook his head, finding the shampoo and pouring some onto his hand,
before spreading it through his hair.
The shower went by quickly, and much to Alexander’s dismay, he wasn’t joined.
He moved to turn off the shower, turning each dial a few times to no avail.
“What the hell?” he mumbled to himself, stepping out and wrapping a towel
around his waist, finding another towel to wrap up his hair.
He shook his head; drying himself off as well as he could, before dropping the
towel and pulling on the boxers and shirt Washington had given him.
Keeping his hair wrapped, he stepped out of the bathroom, looking around for
his teacher.
His first thought was that he would be in the living room again, though, when
he wasn’t there, Alexander looked towards the kitchen.
Washington wasn’t in sight, and Alexander crossed his arms over his chest,
walking towards one of the closed doors on the opposite side of the apartment
than the guest room.
The door he came to stand in front of was at the end of a hall, leading
Alexander to believe it may be the master bedroom.
Alexander raised a hand to knock, though a quiet noise stopped him. He wasn’t
sure what it was, and he pressed an ear up to the door.
It would be hard to mistake the noise once he heard it clearer, making him
flush.
“Oh,” he whispered to himself, fighting with himself to make him finally knock
on the door.
The noise ceased abruptly, followed by sounds of clothes being shuffled around,
before he heard the unmistakable noise of Washington walking, heavy steps.
The door flew open, revealing Washington in a different outfit than before. It
was simple, a pair of what appeared to be cargo shorts and a black t-shirt.
There was a thin veil of sweat over his brow.
“Is everything okay, sir?” he asked softly, acting as though he had no clue
what Washington had been doing.
“Everything is fine, Alexander,” his teacher stated quickly, stepping out and
closing the door behind him. “Can I help you with something?”
Alexander swallowed thickly, waiting for a moment before nodding. “I can’t turn
off the shower,” he whispered.
Washington nodded, stepping around Alexander and beginning to walk towards the
guest bathroom.
Alexander followed slowly behind him, watching the way is muscles moved under
his shirt.
His teacher made it to the bathroom quickly, reaching in and shutting off the
shower in a few seconds. He reached for Alexander’s clothes, discarded on the
floor.
“I’ll throw these in the wash,” he told him, stepping past him again and
walking to a room beside them, opening the door and walking in.
Alexander watched him for a second, before grabbing the towel he had taken off,
and pulling the one off his head, walking to the laundry room.
“Here,” he murmured, holding the two towels out for his teacher to take. “I
figured you could just wash these at the same time.”
Washington looked over at him, eyes resting on the mess of wet hair atop
Alexander’s head. Alexander smiled bashfully, looking down in time to see
Washington’s hands flexing slightly.
‘What would those feel like pulling my hair?’ Alexander thought to himself,
shaking his head.
Alexander’s gaze shifted slightly, looking at the unmistakable bulge in his
teacher’s pants. He sucked in a breath, eyes snapping back up to look at
Washington’s face again.
Washington followed his eyes, grabbing the towels and turning to face the other
way again.
“There’s food in the kitchen, if you’re hungry,” he told him simply, reaching
for laundry detergent.
“I didn’t know places like this had their own laundry rooms,” Alexander said
quietly, watching the back of Washington’s head. “I thought there was a
community one.”
Washington didn’t look back at him, focusing intently on the washer. “There is
one,” he stated. “I just happen to also have my own.”
Alexander nodded, continuing to stand behind him. “Are you okay, sir?” he
questioned softly, though he knew the answer.
“I’m fine, Alexander,” Washington told him. “You should get some food while
your clothes are washing.”
Alexander watched him, not moving from his spot.
Washington turned to look at him. “Have you gotten ahold of your foster
parents?”
Alexander shook his head. “They call me when they’re coming back to the state,”
he told him. “I won’t be able to get ahold of them.”
Washington sighed softly, stepping closer to Alexander.
Alexander sucked in a breath, looking up at his teacher. “Sir?”
Washington was looking down at him intently, and he raised one hand, carding it
through Alexander’s hair.
“Oh,” Alexander whispered, closing his eyes. For all he knew, this was just
another one of his dreams, and it would escalate quickly.
But just as sudden as his teacher had stepped forward, he was stepping away,
shaking his head to himself, walking around Alexander and out of the laundry
room.
“I’ll be back soon,” he told him. “I’ll get you a pair clothes while I’m out.
What size do you wear?”
Alexander looked down at himself. “I don’t know,” he told him honestly. “Most
of my clothes are too big.”
Washington sighed again, nodding. “Fine, we’ll both get something to eat, and
then we’ll go shopping. Get you something a little more…comfortable.”
Chapter End Notes
     I'm thinking maybe next chapter will be more interesting, but, who
     knows yet.
***** Chapter Five *****
Chapter Summary
     Washington hummed quietly, his hands coming up to rest on Alexander’s
     waist, causing him to suck in a breath.
     He didn’t speak, not wanting to ruin the moment that was being
     created, the only thoughts running through his mind being how good
     those hands felt on his waist. What they would feel like holding him
     down, leaving bruises on his hips. Claiming him, marking him.
Chapter Notes
     It's a little fun in this chapter, which is probably why it took my
     over three hours to write it. And it isn't even that much.
     Hope you enjoy the sinning.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Washington was making spaghetti. Spaghetti.
It probably shouldn’t be so astounding to Alexander. Really, it was just
spaghetti. But for the entirety of his high school career his dinners had been
fast food and no home cooked meals.
“I would have just been fine with a sandwich,” Alexander told him, sitting on
one of the most uncomfortable dining room chairs he had ever been in. For a guy
with such nice commodities, Washington had some pretty shitty dining chairs.
Washington glanced at him, all his focus being mostly on the water boiling on
the stove. “I don’t want a sandwich,” his teacher told him simply, looking back
to the pot.
Alexander nodded slightly, pulling his phone out. He didn’t have any messages;
in fact, his screen was completely blank, void of any notifications or
screensavers.
Washington finally put the spaghetti noodles into the water, turning the heat
down a bit.
It had been a while since his teacher had stuck the clothes in the wash, though
it still surprised Alexander to hear a loud beep sound through the apartment.
“Do you mind watching this?” Washington questioned, turning around to look at
Alexander, gesturing to the stove behind him. “I’m going to swap your clothes.”
Alexander stood up from his seat, stretching his arms and moving towards the
stove, careful not to touch it. He grinned slightly up at Washington.
The smile he got in return was tense looking, before he turned away and began
to walk towards the laundry room.
Alexander put his focus into watching the spaghetti, making sure he didn’t burn
himself at some point.
He didn’t hear Washington come back, he didn’t even hear him start the dryer,
and he only realized he was back when he felt a hand on his back.
He sucked in a breath, leaning into the touch slightly, eyes drifting shut.
And just as quickly as it had appeared, the hand retreated from his back,
leaving him feeling cold.
“I think it’s done,” the voice said behind him, and he opened his eyes again,
biting his lip before he stepped back from the stove, looking up at Washington.
“Sir,” he started to say, though he quickly closed his mouth again, realizing
he didn’t know what he wanted to say.
“Alexander?” Washington questioned after a second, waiting for him to go on.
Alexander flushed, shaking his head. “Nothing, sir,” he whispered. “It was
nothing.”
Washington looked at him skeptically, before realizing he wasn’t going to carry
on, and he sighed. “Can you get a couple plates out,” he asked, pointing
towards a cabinet above Alexander’s head.
Alexander nodded, turning his back to Washington and looking towards the
cabinet. It was high enough that he’d have to get up on the counter, or a
chair, but he settled for the first option, carefully maneuvering himself up.
He quickly got the plates, climbing back down as carefully as he had gone up.
When he turned back around, he was met face to face – or face to chest – with
his teacher, causing him to jump back, though that only pressed his back into
the counter behind him.
Washington was looking down at him, forcing Alexander to think of anything
other than him.
“Here you go sir,” he whispered, holding the plates up slightly, swallowing
thickly.
Washington continued staring down at him for a few more moments, before taking
one plate from Alexander and stepping back, shaking his head and mumbling
quietly to himself.
…
Dinner was a quiet affair, causing Alexander to worry a bit, afraid that
Washington was beginning to regret bringing Alexander back to his apartment.
But there was no way he imagined the noises earlier, nor could he have imagined
the shape in his pants no more than two hours earlier.
“Your clothes should be done by now,” it was the first thing Washington had
said since they started eating.
Alexander looked down at his phone, checking the time. It was nearly six, the
sun already beginning to set outside, easy to see from the large window in the
living room. It was facing the west, giving him the perfect view of the sunset,
orange and red lighting up the sky.
He stood from his seat, grabbing his now empty plate, and carrying it to the
sink.
“I’ll do the dishes while you get dressed, son,” Washington told him, pushing
his own chair out from under the table, standing to his full height once again.
Alexander felt his heartbeat race, though he would say it was from anger
instead of being turned on. “Okay, dad,” he mumbled under his breath, quickly
turning away and nearly racing to the laundry room.
He listened for the sink to start before he began undressing. He felt a loss
once he took the clothes off, folding them carefully and placing them on top of
the washer.
He pulled his boxers on first, glancing out of the open door.
“I called him dad,” he whispered to himself, face growing hot. The heat
traveled down his body, and he shook his head. “Not now boner,” he muttered,
palming himself through his boxers, as though that would make it go away.
He pulled on his jeans next, happy that they were tight enough to hide his
problem, for the most part at least. It would go away eventually, he hoped, at
least.
The shirt came on next, a size too big, much like his hoodie was when he pulled
it on. He remembered picking both up at Goodwill, more than a month ago. It had
been cheap, and they had lasted him this long, which worked well enough for
him.
He walked back out of the laundry room, and instead of going to the kitchen; he
walked towards the living room window, standing in front of it to watch the sun
finish sinking below the horizon.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it,” he jumped at the voice, turning to look at
Washington, standing a few feet behind him.
“It is,” Alexander agreed, though he noticed his teacher wasn’t looking out the
window, instead he was watching Alexander himself, though he told himself it
was only because he had spoken to him.
Washington nodded, walking towards him; he didn’t touch him, only stood behind
him.
“I’m going to change, and then we’ll get going,” Washington murmured, still
looking down at Alexander.
“Take your time,” Alexander told him quietly, looking away and back out the
window, watching lights being turned on in various buildings.
Washington hummed quietly, his hands coming up to rest on Alexander’s waist,
causing him to suck in a breath.
He didn’t speak, not wanting to ruin the moment that was being created, the
only thoughts running through his mind being how good those hands felt on his
waist. What they would feel like holding him down, leaving bruises on his hips.
Claiming him, marking him.
Heat rushed back to his dick, and he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself
down.
Washington chuckled softly, and, as though reading Alexander’s mind, he
squeezed his hips softly, not nearly as hard as Alexander wanted, however.
The hand on his right hip disappeared, moving to push his hair away from where
it was covering his neck.
The lips that appeared on his neck next were a surprise, though not unwanted.
“Oh,” he whispered, tilting his head to the side.
“Tell me to stop, Alexander,” Washington murmured, his hand back on the
designated side of his hip.
“Don’t,” Alexander told him quickly. “Please, don’t.”
But just as quickly as he had said it, the lips and hands retreated, the
telling sound of his teacher taking a step back.
“I can’t,” Washington told him quietly.
Alexander turned to look at him, face covered in blush.
“Sir?” he questioned softly, though his voice was breathy.
“You’re too young,” morals were cock blocking him. “I’m going to get dressed.”
Alexander chose not to argue with him, just nodding.
Washington’s eyes drifted down, coming to rest on the telltale bulge in
Alexander’s jeans. “Don’t do anything about that,” he told him, the command
causing Alexander’s breath to catch. “Not yet, at least,” and with that, he
turned and walked back to the master bedroom.
Chapter End Notes
     It started with spaghetti and ended with a boner.
     That escalated quickly.
     Hope ya'll enjoyed.
     I'll have another chapter or two tomorrow, maybe three, depending on
     how generous I feel.
***** Chapter Six *****
Chapter Summary
     Washington raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you want?” he asked
     quietly. “You want pleasure?”
     Alexander nodded quickly, pleading with his eyes. “Please,” he
     begged. “Please, sir, please.”
Chapter Notes
     I told you there'd be another chapter, so here you go.
     It's a little short, so I'm sorry about that.
     More notes at the end.
     Enjoy it.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Alexander stood where he was while he waited, barely able to see stars in the
sky, a stark contrast to the overcast sky from after school.
He wasn’t wearing shoes yet, didn’t even have socks on. He struggled to get his
legs to work again, walking towards the laundry room, where his socks were
still in the dryer. He pulled them on quickly, going back to the bathroom to
retrieve his shoes.
By time he was finished, Washington had appeared back in the living room, arms
crossed over his chest, staring out the window.
“You left the living room,” it was a statement, and his teacher didn’t look
over at him as he spoke.
“You didn’t tell me to stay,” Alexander told him, standing a few feet away. “I
needed to put my shoes on.”
Washington hummed, continuing to look out the window.
Alexander fidgeted in his spot, placing his hands behind his back, holding
hands with himself.
They stood like that for a few minutes, both in their respective positions,
before Washington finally turned to look at him.
Alexander froze, stopping his small movements as his teacher looked at him.
“Sir,” he didn’t say anything more than that, words failing him.
“Shh,” was the only response he was warranted, followed by a hand coming up,
gesturing for him to come closer.
Alexander bit his lip, taking a few steps closer to him, stopping when he was
standing between Washington and the window.
Washington’s stare was making Alexander feel hot, and he looked away from him,
looking at the sofa behind his teacher.
“Alexander,” his name was said in a low voice, causing his eyes to snap up.
“Can you tell me what you want?”
Alexander stared into the dark eyes above him, searching them for signs of what
would be okay to say, and what wouldn’t be.
He opened his mouth to speak again, though the words that he wanted to say
wouldn’t come out.
Washington’s hand came up, moving some hair from Alexander’s face, brushing it
back, before tugging lightly.
Alexander gasped, eyes widening as his head was pulled back.
“I asked you a questioned,” the voice was almost terrifying, menacing above
him.
Alexander swallowed thickly, still staring up at Washington, his neck exposed.
“Sir,” he whispered, reaching a hand forward.
The hand in his hair tightened, baring more of his throat. The pain seemed to
ground him, though it caused heat to course throughout his entire body, focused
still on his dick, completely hardening in his jeans.
Washington was slowly pulling him backwards, one leg finding its way between
Alexander’s, pushing him towards the window. The small amount of friction it
offers him causes a small moan to fall from his lips before he could stop it.
The moment his back hits the window, the hand is gone from his hair, both arms
caging him in.
“Tell me what you want, son,” the nickname is tagged on at the end, almost as
an afterthought.
Alexander whimpered, shaking his head. “I’m not your son,” he whispered,
glowering up at him as much as he could, though the anger was undermined by the
flush covering his cheeks.
A quiet chuckle, a dark grin, Washington stepped closer into his space, if that
was even remotely possible.
“Sir, please,” Alexander begged, trying to rut against his leg. “You can feel
how much I want you, please.”
Washington continued looking down at him, as though he was having a moral
battle with himself. Which, he probably was.
“Alexander,” his teacher whispered, and Alexander would give anything for him
to continue saying his name like that. “I shouldn’t do this.”
“You aren’t doing anything, yet,” Alexander told him quickly. “Not giving me
any pleasure, not doing anything.”
Washington raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you want?” he asked quietly. “You
want pleasure?”
Alexander nodded quickly, pleading with his eyes. “Please,” he begged. “Please,
sir, please.”
One of Washington’s hands moved from where it was caging him, palming him
through his jeans.
Alexander gasped, head falling back into the window, making a dull thudding
noise, and he closed his eyes. “Oh god,” he moaned. “Please, please, please,
sir, you have to- please.”
The hand was pulled away, causing Alexander to let out a loud whine, eyes
snapping open. “Why? Why’d you stop?” the questions were asked breathlessly.
“I have to?” Washington asked. Alexander tried to think back to what he had
said, the broken off sentences hard to remember in his mind.
“Please,” he whispered, his bottom lip jutting out. “Sir, please.”
“I like that,” Washington murmured, hand slowly coming back. “I like you
calling me sir, I like how you beg, so pretty.”
Alexander moaned, unsure if it was from the feeling of pleasure coursing
through him from where his teacher was palming him, or from the praise. His
eyes slipped shut again.
“I think we’ll go to the store,” Washington whispered, breath ghosting over
Alexander’s ears. And when did he get so close?
“No!” Alexander begged. “Please, let me come, sir, please.”
Washington laughed, almost unkindly. “No baby,” he whispered, causing Alexander
to preen.
Washington took his hand away, wrapping it around Alexander’s waist. “If you be
good, I’ll make you feel good when we get back.”
Alexander took a deep breath, staring up into Washington’s eyes. “How?”
The smirk that found it’s way onto his teacher’s lips was malicious.
“I’ll show you to my bedroom.”
Chapter End Notes
     I'm already working on the next chapter, so hopefully you guys won't
     be too upset with how I ended it.
     It should be up sometime tonight, and I promise it will be worth the
     wait.
***** Chapter Seven *****
Chapter Summary
     He whimpered, tightening his arms around his teacher’s neck, going
     about his way in creating a hickey on Washington’s throat.
     He didn’t realize they were walking, until he heard a door open, and
     he lifted his head, finally getting a good look at the master
     bedroom.
Chapter Notes
     Oh shit, I didn't upload when I said I would. My sincerest apologies,
     but I got distracted by both Drunk History, Rudolph, and the Grinch.
     So oops.
     Hope ya'll enjoy the chapter.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Washington took a step back, leaving Alexander gasping for breath, hands
pressed palm down against the glass.
“Be a good boy,” he said simply, turning towards the kitchen, grabbing his keys
off the table.
Alexander stared at him, trying to think of something other than how those
hands felt, teasing him through his jeans. “Asshole,” he muttered under his
breath.
Washington turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow, making Alexander want to
dissolve into the window pane, fall from the building. “Excuse me?”
Remaining quiet seemed like the best idea for Alexander in that moment, and his
eyes widened as he shook his head.
His teacher began walking towards him, slow steps, drawing out how long it took
to reach Alexander again. He grabbed the boy’s chin with one hand, tilting his
head so he had to look him in the eye, unable to look away. “What did you say?”
Alexander gulped, staying as quiet as he could, though he gasped out a soft,
“Nothing, sir.”
Washington hummed, his stare seeming to burn holes into Alexander’s brain.
“Really? Because I’m pretty sure you said something you shouldn’t have,” he
murmured, the hand not holding Alexander’s face stroking over his arm.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Alexander whispered, hoping the apology would prove worthy.
“I won’t do it again.”
Washington nodded. “I’m sure you won’t,” he agreed. “But it was still naughty
of you to do it in the first place.”
Alexander swallowed. “I know,” he murmured, unwilling to deny how much this, in
and of itself, was turning him on.
“How do I know you won’t do it again?” his teacher questioned, squeezing his
arm lightly.
“I won’t,” he promised, words coming out quickly. The next words out of his
mouth were impulsive, not letting himself think for more than a second. “Daddy,
please.”
Washington’s breath caught, the hand on his chin tightening. “Say that again,”
he told him, an order, not an option.
“Daddy,” Alexander repeated, a devilish look in his eyes.
Washington pressed him into the window; that spot becoming a second home to
Alexander. “Maybe we shouldn’t get you clothes tonight,” he whispered, his eyes
growing darker than before.
Alexander whined softly, nodding his head quickly. “We can tomorrow,” he said
softly.
His teacher hummed quietly. “I think that’s acceptable,” he said decidedly, the
hand from his arm twisting in his hair instead, pulling his head back.
Within a second, there were lips on his neck, sucking and biting.
“Oh god,” Alexander moaned loudly, arms spazzing for a second before wrapping
around Washington, gripping on the back of his shirt.
“So pretty,” Washington whispered into his neck. “Baby girl.”
Alexander’s eyes widened, nails biting into his teacher’s back. “Daddy,” he
whimpered.
Washington leaned back, looking Alexander in the eyes, his own pupils blown
wide. “I’m going to take you to bed,” he told him softly. “Is that okay?”
Alexander nodded quickly, bits of his hair falling from his teacher’s grasp,
into his eyes. “Please.”
Washington grinned darkly, leaning down and picking Alexander up swiftly, hands
under Alexander’s ass, squeezing hard.
“Oh, fuck,” Alexander gasped, wrapping his arms around Washington’s neck and
his legs around his waist.
“Language, baby girl,” he was reprimanded, earning himself a harder squeeze.
He whimpered, tightening his arms around his teacher’s neck, going about his
way in creating a hickey on Washington’s throat.
He didn’t realize they were walking, until he heard a door open, and he lifted
his head, finally getting a good look at the master bedroom.
The floors were a dark hardwood, the only he had seen in the entire apartment.
The walls were painted black, an unsurprising fact to Alexander, and in the
center of the back wall was a king sized bed.
The sheets and blankets were dark green, the bedframe a matching color as the
floor, seeming like it was coming directly from it. The headboard was made of
wooden poles coming up, perfect for grabbing onto.
On the right side of the room was a large dresser, made of black wood. There
weren’t any pictures in the room, though there was a large painting on the left
side of the room, over a dark wooden desk.
“You really like the dark wood,” Alexander whispered, giggling softly to
himself.
Washington looked around. “The desk is dark mahogany,” he told him. “So is the
dresser, it's obviously darker though.”
Alexander huffed. “Okay, enough talk about the room,” he murmured. “Can we get
to the actual fun stuff?”
His teacher chuckled softly, walking forward until he unceremoniously dropped
Alexander onto the bed. He scrambled up, letting his head fall onto one of the
pillows.
Washington crawled up his body, looking down at the boy. “So pretty, all laid
out for me,” he whispered, before finally – finally – leaning down, meeting
Alexander’s lips with his own.
Alexander moaned into the kiss, the moan only growing louder as Washington
began to grind his hips down against him.
“Daddy, please,” he whispered against his lips.
“Don’t worry, baby girl,” Washington leaned up, stilling his movements, his own
hips still pressed down against Alexander’s. “I’ll get to making you feel good
soon, I promise.”
Chapter End Notes
     Oooooooh shit.
     Ya'll can yell at me in the comments for how I ended the chapter.
     But I needed to put something up and if I finished the scene tonight
     it wouldn't go up until tomorrow.
***** Chapter Eight *****
Chapter Summary
     Within minutes, Alexander is a writhing mess, and his teacher hasn’t
     even really done anything to him yet. Though Alexander can’t bring
     himself to be embarrassed in the slightest.
     “So pretty,” he barely registers the voice speaking, and he opens his
     eyes lazily. “All laid out for me, writhing and moaning, just from my
     hands. I haven’t even given you anything yet.”
     Alexander whines, his bottom lip jutting out. “Daddy, please, fuck
     me, please, please.”
Chapter Notes
     I guess you guys waited long enough for this, and I truly hope you
     enjoy it.
     Shameless porn ahead.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Alexander chased his teacher’s lips, whining loudly.
Washington laughed, shaking his head as he moved, standing from the bed. “Take
your clothes off, baby girl,” he said over his shoulder, walking towards the
dresser.
Alexander stared at him, making no move to take off his clothes. Washington
looked back at him, leaning back on the dresser, crossing his arms. “I’m not
doing anything until you undress.”
Alexander pouted, but he sat up, pulling his hoodie and shirt off in one tug.
He moved to the edge of the bed, kicking off his shoes and socks, before
finally ridding himself of both his jeans and boxers.
Washington grinned, turning back to the dresser, he leaned down, opening one of
the drawers. When he stood straight again, he turned his body to Alexander,
holding up both a bottle of lube and a condom.
Alexander swallowed, taking a deep breath, everything coming into stark focus.
“Oh,” he whispered.
His teacher walked back to the bed, looking down at Alexander. He reached
forward, carding his hands through the boy’s hair. Alexander leaned into the
touch, practically purring.
“Are you still sure about this, Alexander?” the voice pulls him to reality, and
he nods quickly.
“Please, daddy,” he whispered, as though that was all he could think of to get
Washington to actually make a move. “You promised you’d make me feel good.”
Washington chuckled, pulling his shirt over his head, and coaxing Alexander
back onto the bed. He's sprawled out, legs spread, hair making a halo around
his head, and his hands both gripping the blanket underneath him.
He closes his eyes, the look his teacher is giving him almost too much, and
waits for him to finally touch him.
The first touch is soft, grazing over his rib, drifting to ghost over his
hipbones, jutting out slightly. Alexander flinches slightly, the hand
disappearing. “Are you okay?”
Alexander opens one eye, grinning up at the man above him. “I’m ticklish,” he
told him simply.
That causes a chuckle to fall from his teacher’s lips, followed quickly by a
shake of his head.
The hands are back a second later, this time squeezing his waist, pinching a
nipple, nails grazing lightly over his thighs.
Within minutes, Alexander is a writhing mess, and his teacher hasn’t even
really done anything to him yet. Though Alexander can’t bring himself to be
embarrassed in the slightest.
“So pretty,” he barely registers the voice speaking, and he opens his eyes
lazily. “All laid out for me, writhing and moaning, just from my hands. I
haven’t even given you anything yet.”
Alexander whines, his bottom lip jutting out. “Daddy, please, fuck me, please,
please.”
He catches the way his teacher sucks in another breath through his teeth,
leaning over to grab the lube from where he had discarded it at some point.
“Okay, baby,” Washington whispers, he taps Alexander’s hip. “Can you get up on
your hands and knees for me?”
Alexander nodded, moving to the position he was told, he pressed the side of
his face into the pillow beneath him, twisting his hands back into the blanket.
There was an appreciative noise behind him, followed by a hand running over his
spine. Alexander arched into the hand, moaning softly.
“Pretty,” his teacher murmured. “Gorgeous.”
Less than a second later, Alexander heard the telltale sound of the bottle of
lube being popped open, his heart beginning to hammer in his chest.
The hand from his back retreated, and after a second, a finger was lightly
pressing at his hole, only a tease.
Alexander sucked in a breath, hips pressing back on their own accord. “Daddy,
daddy, please.”
The finger finally pressed in, ever so slowly. Alexander squeezed his eyes
shut, a loud moan falling from his lips.
Washington began a slow, torturous process, not doing anything other than
thrusting in and out.
“Daddy, daddy, please, give me another, I can take it,” Alexander begged,
breath coming out labored. “I can do it.”
Washington hummed, pulling the finger out and adding more lube, before two
fingers were teasing Alexander’s hole, and he didn’t waste any time pressing
them in, punching the breath from Alexander’s lungs.
“Fuck,” Alexander groaned out, biting his bottom lip.
“Language,” Washington reprimanded, punctuating the word with a hard thrust of
his hand.
“Sorry, daddy, sorry, sorry,” Alexander apologized, rocking his hips back
against his teacher’s fingers.
Washington hummed, stretching his fingers, curling them in a ‘come here’
motion.
Alexander saw stars, the motion hitting his prostate head on. He let out a wet
breath, his toes curling. “Daddy, oh god, daddy, feels so- oh god.”
He bit his lip, trying to stave off any other words that may fall from his
lips, focusing instead on the pleasure he was being given.
It only took a few more minutes before two fingers turned to three, and then
those three were pulled out.
“Daddy, daddy, no, please, please don’t stop,” Alexander begged, twisting back
to look at him. “Why are you stopping?”
Washington grinned wickedly at him. “I want you to ride me, baby girl,” he told
him, standing from the bed, beginning to pull off his pants. “Want to be able
to see all the pleasure I’m giving you.”
Alexander moaned, moving with nearly liquid limbs, lying once again on his
back.
When his teacher’s boxers finally were pulled off, Alexander sucked in a long
breath. “You’re so fucking-“
He didn’t get farther than that before a hand was brought across his face.
Tears gathered in his eyes, though his cock twitched.
“Watch your language, baby girl,” Washington told him darkly. “I’m not going to
tell you again.”
Alexander nodded slowly, bringing a hand up to trail over his cheek.
Washington watched him for a moment, waiting for the moment Alexander would get
up and leave, though, when it didn’t happen, he moved to the bed, lying down
and rolling the condom onto himself.
Alexander moaned softly, moving to straddle his teacher’s waist.
Washington stroked himself to fullness, lining his cock up with Alexander’s
hole, and Alexander slowly lowered himself, head falling back, eyes drifting
closed.
Once he was completely lowered, he balled up his fists, letting himself get
adjusted.
“You gonna move, baby girl?” his teacher questioned, hands coming up to rest on
Alexander’s hips, squeezing them.
Alexander looked down at him through heavy lidded eyes. “Yes, daddy,” he
whispered airily, lifting himself up and dropping back down.
The hands on his hips tightened, lifting him up and down in a dirty rhythm.
By time Washington began thrusting up at the same time Alexander fell down,
Alexander was riding the edge.
“Daddy, I need to come, please, daddy,” Alexander was begging, nonsense falling
from his lips.
Washington groaned. “Come for me, baby,” he whispered, he thrusted up into him,
hard, and that was all it took for Alexander to be coming over his teacher’s
chest, riding it out.
There was a low moan beneath him as Washington came into the condom.
Alexander collapsed into the mess on Washington’s chest, heaving deep breaths.
Washington carefully pulled out, causing Alexander to wince, and he rolled the
boy off him, laying him on his back, he pulled off the condom, tying it off and
tossing it in a trash can.
“Daddy,” Alexander whispered.
Washington shushed him, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’ll be right
back,” he murmured. “I’m gonna get a wash rag to clean us up.”
Alexander nodded slowly, closing his eyes; he could hear his teacher leave the
room.
It was only minutes later when Washington walked back, a warm rag in his hand,
and Alexander looked up at him while he cleaned him off.
“Go to sleep now,” Washington whispered, tossing the rag towards an open door
that Alexander hadn’t seen when they walked in, obviously leading to the master
bathroom.
Alexander grumbled, a soft argument, only earning himself a soft laugh.
Warm arms wrapped around him, caging him in a soft embrace.
“I’ll be here when you wake,” were the last words he heard before he drifted
off.
Chapter End Notes
     Yoooo, comment what you think, or don't, I can't make you.
***** Chapter Nine *****
Chapter Summary
     And how wonderful he had looked beneath him. Pliant. Begging. Flushed
     to such a pretty shade of pink.
     He was so soft and warm and –tight- fuck he was so tight. How he had
     looked bouncing on his cock, riding him like it was what he was made
     to do. Like the only spot he was meant to be was on Washington’s
     dick.
Chapter Notes
     So I decided to make a chapter from Washington's point of view
     because as I was showering I decided it was a great idea.
     It isn't exactly long, but at least it's another chapter.
     And here you go, hope you enjoy.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
What had he done?
Everything was a mistake, what they had just done was a mistake, peeking in on
the boy in the shower was a mistake, making him beg and moan and plead – that
was a huge mistake.
Picking the boy up in the rain. That was not a mistake. He couldn’t let him
walk home.
But he should have taken him home. Or let him just sleep in the guest room,
taken him home the next day, maybe even that would have been okay.
Touching him. That had been the first mistake. Letting his hand drift down to
the boy’s lower back.
Peeking in on him in the shower. Mistake number two.
Jacking off to the sight of him in the shower. Three.
Getting into the boy’s space. Strike four.
Everything that had happened at the window. Five.
The softness of his hair as Washington pulled it. The little noises he was
wringing out of him. And what he had called him. Fuck, Washington didn’t know
he’d be in to that. But it was probably safe to assume he’d be in to anything
Alexander called him.
He could’ve turned the boy around right then, found some lube and fucked him
against the window. Let the people in the office building across from him see
how the boy’s face twisted into pleasure, let them see the boy release himself
all over the window.
Let him have a view while he fucked into him.
What a sight that would have been.
And now this. He had fucked him, screwed him, there was no good way to say it.
And how wonderful he had looked beneath him. Pliant. Begging. Flushed to such a
pretty shade of pink.
He was so soft and warm and –tight- fuck he was so tight. How he had looked
bouncing on his cock, riding him like it was what he was made to do. Like the
only spot he was meant to be was on Washington’s dick.
And fuck. He was so monumentally screwed.
It wasn’t just the boy’s age. Which, yes, that was a problem. The boy was less
that two times his own age. But he was his student. He could get fired, or
worse, arrested.
But Alexander was lying there now, pliant and fucked out. Sleeping like a baby.
And he would be sleeping for a while.
Yet every glance at the sleeping figure beside him, brought back to look he had
made when he came. Mouth opened just slightly, head falling back, eyes lidded.
And he just kept riding him through his orgasm, like he couldn’t get enough of
it, enough of him.
And when Washington himself had finally come, Alexander had made such a pretty
face at that. Working his teacher through it, the tightness and heat almost too
much, and then he had collapsed onto his chest, uncaring that his own spunk was
spilled there.
Washington hadn’t missed the look Alexander had thrown in the direction of his
desk, either.
He wondered what the boy would look like spread over it, papers scattered,
barely anything for him to hold on to, moving back and forth over the polished
wood. Give him some more bruises on his hip to match the ones blooming now. The
shape an exact replica of Washington’s own hands.
Or maybe he could get the boy on his knees, cramped under the desk, sucking
Washington’s cock while he worked. It would be a good way to keep the boy
quiet.
He looked back at the sleeping form, carding his hands through the soft hair,
still slightly damp from the shower hours earlier, and let himself pull at the
strands. Not too hard, but the boy’s mouth opened in a soft gasp, a moan
falling from the sleeping figure.
Washington’s dick stirred. It had only been a little more than half an hour
since they had fucked, and Washington couldn’t wake the boy up again for a
round two. No, let him sleep.
He gently untangled himself from Alexander, standing on shaky legs and walking
towards the bathroom, softly shutting the door behind him.
And no sooner had he shut the door did he begin stroking himself, a tight grip
on his cock, teeth biting into his lips.
It didn’t take long, not with the various images of Alexander drifting
throughout his head, and soon enough he found himself coming into his fist, a
few drops landing on the counter, and a soft moan of the boy’s name falling
from his lips.
He cleaned himself up again, depositing a dirty tissue into the trash, trying
to throw away every clue of what he had just done before he walked back into
the room.
Alexander hadn’t moved much, though one hand was outstretched, as though he
were reaching for Washington.
He allowed himself a smile at that, walking softly back to the bed. He lifted
the boy up, humming as he wrapped his arms around his neck, and he pulled the
covers back, lying down with him, careful not to jostle him too much.
He couldn’t do this again, he knew that.
But with how Alexander was holding him right now.
He wondered if he would be able to stop himself from doing it again.
And besides, he did promise that he would make his boy feel good.
Chapter End Notes
     I might do more of this, just to get a view into Washington's mind.
     There will be another chapter tomorrow for sure.
     So, until then, mwah.
***** Chapter Ten *****
Chapter Summary
     The shower in the master bedroom was much like the guest, except that
     the tile in it was a dark green instead of black. The dials were all
     the same, and with a lot of screwing with them, Alexander found a
     comfortable setting.
     He didn’t hear the door open, too busy enjoying himself to listen.
     It had started with him washing his hair, something simple and
     innocent, but it had escalated to the moment he was at, slowly
     stroking himself under the spray of water.
     So really, he kind of had an excuse to not be paying attention to
     anything.
Chapter Notes
     I promised another chapter, and here you go. It would have been up
     sooner, but then I got distracted by a Hannah Montana marathon on
     television, and I mean, my -childhood-.
     And check it, there are a shower blowjob and handjob.
     Enjoy it, lovelies.
The first thing Alexander processed when he woke up was how sore he was.
Everything hurt.
It was a good hurt, though. He didn’t dislike it.
He shifted slightly, only opening his eyes when he realized he was being held
in place by arms wrapped around him.
The arms around him were strong, and even with his teacher being asleep, he was
still able to hold him still.
He tried to move away, trying to get into a more comfortable position, when his
teacher’s eyes opened slowly, looking intently down at him.
Alexander was at a loss for words, his mouth opening and closing uselessly.
“How do you feel?” his teacher’s voice was heavy with sleep, causing warmth to
coil in Alexander’s gut.
Alexander thought for a second, debating what word to use to describe how he
felt. “Fine,” he decided on. “Great, actually.”
Washington nodded, smiling slightly at him, but the smile soon fell from his
lips.
Alexander frowned back at him. “What’s wrong?”
Washington shook his head, sighing softly. “You know this can’t happen again,
right? It shouldn’t happen again.”
Alexander swallowed thickly, staring into his eyes. “But sir-“
“I said it shouldn’t happen again,” Washington cut him off. “I didn’t say I
didn’t want it to happen again. And I have a hard time turning down things that
I want.”
Alexander grinned, leaning in to kiss him.
His teacher groaned into the kiss, arms tightening around the boy, pulling him
close.
“Daddy,” Alexander whispered against his lips, pressing his naked hips against
Washington’s. “It’s cold. You should warm me up.”
Washington bit Alexander’s bottom lip, sucking hard on it. “Naughty baby,” he
whispered.
Alexander whined, snaking a hand down to find Washington’s cock, stroking it
lightly once he found it, feeling it beginning to harden in his grip. “See how
good I make you feel, daddy?” he murmured.
Washington moaned, grip tightening on Alexander, finding his ass and squeezing.
“We need to get you clothes, baby girl,” he whispered.
Alexander let out a loud moan, pressing back against the hands. “I’m probably
still loose for you, daddy,” he said quietly, closing his eyes. “You’d barely
need to stretch me.”
“Do you think so?” his teacher asked softly, dipping a finger into his boy’s
hole. “You’re right, baby. Still so nice and loose for me. Bet you’d beg for
me, just to fuck you.”
Alexander nodded quickly, trying to push back on the finger, though it was gone
just as quickly as it had appeared, leaving him to writhe on the bed.
Washington chuckled, moving to sit up in the bed. “I think you need a shower.”
Alexander pouted, moving to sit up as well. He looked down at the blanket
covering his lower body. “Wait, when did I get under the covers?” he asked.
“I covered you last night,” Washington told him, waving the question off as he
stood up, stretching his arms over his head. “I’m going to make breakfast, you
okay showering while I do?”
Alexander pouted. “You aren’t going to join me?”
Washington glanced back at him, pulling on a pair of loose sweats. “If I shower
with you, we won’t be leaving this apartment.”
Alexander blushed, moving to stand. “Maybe we shouldn’t leave then.”
Washington raised an eyebrow, walking around the bed to kiss Alexander. “You
need new clothes, I can’t keep washing the ones you were wearing.”
“You can just take me by my foster parent’s house later,” Alexander argued. “I
can pick some up there.”
Washington shook his head. “You need clothes that actually fit you.”
Alexander grumbled under his breath, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine.”
Washington nodded. “Good boy,” he murmured, kissing his forehead. “Now, the
bathroom is right through there, go take a shower and then join me in the
kitchen.”
“Fine,” Alexander mumbled again, still pouting, but he began his walk to the
bathroom. “Don’t think I’m happy about it, though.”
He heard a quiet chuckle behind him. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
…
The shower in the master bedroom was much like the guest, except that the tile
in it was a dark green instead of black. The dials were all the same, and with
a lot of screwing with them, Alexander found a comfortable setting.
He didn’t hear the door open, too busy enjoying himself to listen.
It had started with him washing his hair, something simple and innocent, but it
had escalated to the moment he was at, slowly stroking himself under the spray
of water.
So really, he kind of had an excuse to not be paying attention to anything.
He was whispering soft words under his breath, nonsense mixed with the
occasional, ‘daddy,’ that would fall from his lips.
He wasn’t expecting the arms that wrapped around his waist, the lips at his
neck.
“Naughty baby,” the words were whispered in his ear, heavy with lust.
Alexander moaned, melting into the body behind him, his hand replaced with the
larger one of his teacher. “Daddy.”
“Jerking yourself off in my shower, naughty indeed,” Washington whispered,
sucking a hickey into his neck. "I thought I'd come check on you, but you
appear to already be enjoying yourself without me."
Alexander whimpered, the grip too tight, not tight enough. “Daddy, daddy,
please,” he begged, grinding his ass back against the hardening cock behind
him. “I can see how much you want this, want me. Won’t you let me make you feel
good?”
He turned around, quickly dropping to his knees, looking up at his teacher
through his lashes.
Washington stared down at him, surprise quickly being covered up on his face.
He shrugged, one hand falling down to tangle in Alexander’s hair.
The boy grinned, starting to jerk Washington off with one hand, making sure he
was completely hard before he wrapped his lips around the tip of his cock,
barely sucking, teasing him.
“Alexander,” Washington hissed out, the grip in his hair tightening to a near
painful grasp.
Alexander grinned, finally taking his teacher’s cock into his mouth, bobbing
his head.
His teacher’s own head fell back, hitting on the side of the shower. “Baby
girl,” he moaned. “So good for me.”
Alexander hummed around the length in his mouth, moving faster.
Washington lost himself in the moment, thrusting his hips forwards to meet
Alexander’s mouth.
Alexander gagged, hands gripping onto Washington’s thighs, nails digging into
the flesh there.
“Shit,” Washington muttered, pulling Alexander off him. “Are you okay?”
Alexander grinned, tears gathering in his eyes, mixing with water from the
shower. “Naughty language daddy,” he whispered, before going back to the
previous task at hand.
Washington groaned, smiling down at the sight below him. It didn’t take long
before he was coming, holding Alexander still as the hot spurts poured down his
throat.
He only let him off once he was finished, the boy swallowing every drop of it,
gasping for air. He was still painfully hard himself, but he only grinned
dirtily up at his teacher.
Washington took a moment to catch his breath, before kneeling down beside the
boy. “You need help with that, baby?” he asked him, gesturing to his weeping
cock.
“Please, daddy,” Alexander whispered.
And who was Washington to deny his boy?
It was an embarrassingly short amount of time before Alexander was coming,
cheeks flushed, face buried into Washington’s neck, tears streaming down his
face.
They sat like that for a few moments, before Washington gingerly helped
Alexander to his feet, beginning a tantalizingly slow shower.
***** Chapter Eleven *****
Chapter Summary
     Washington rolled his eyes, kicking him lightly under the table.
     “Eat.”
     Alexander grumbled under his breath, but took a bite of his food; a
     muffled moan working its way up his throat at the taste.
     His teacher smirked, finishing a bite of bacon. “Good to know I can
     make you moan in multiple different ways.”
     Alexander’s face began to heat up, and he looked down at his food
     instead of giving his teacher the satisfaction of seeing him blush.
Chapter Notes
     Yo, another chapter. This is mostly just filler, I give some more
     details about the master bedroom, ya know, normal stuff for a filler.
     I'll have another one up either later tonight or tomorrow after I get
     out of school.
     And, without further ado, here is the chapter.
Alexander was standing in front of the window after the shower, a towel around
his waist, his hair cascading in wet waves down his neck.
Washington was currently making food behind him in the kitchen, though
Alexander assured him he’d rather eat something else, along with a very
suggestive wink to his teacher.
The only thing he got in return was an eye roll and a slap on his ass, telling
him to go sit down.
Of course, Alexander rarely followed the rules, and never did sit down,
choosing instead to watch the city from above it.
He was caught up in his own mind, ignoring the smell of food from behind him,
ignoring the noises his stomach would occasionally make, and allowed himself to
think.
He knew that this was stupid. This was probably a mistake. God knows what would
happen if someone were to find out. Truthfully, he wanted to text John, tell
him what had happened. But John would tell Hercules, Hercules would tell
Lafayette, and Lafayette would tell the Schuyler Sisters. And Lord knows they
couldn’t keep a secret.
So Alexander was left with himself, holding fast to a secret he couldn’t risk
sharing with anyone.
He was so focused on his own thoughts, that the sound of a timer going off
didn’t faze him, didn’t even register in his mind.
“Alexander,” he barely heard the voice, and he only hummed in response, still
thinking. “Baby girl.”
He turned around, being met with his rock of a teacher, standing directly in
front of him, causing him to take a step back in surprise. “How do you move so
fast without me being able to hear you?” he questioned, smiling up at
Washington.
“It’s a trick I’ve picked up on,” Washington told him, shrugging his shoulders.
“It makes it easy to walk up behind students not doing what they’re supposed to
be doing, without them noticing.”
Alexander’s grin widened. “That’s how you always know that I’m writing instead
of paying attention.”
Washington nodded, wrapping an arm around Alexander and pulling him towards the
kitchen. “This year it’s come in handy for me.”
Alexander hummed, sitting on one of the – still just as uncomfortable – dining
room chairs, watching Washington get him a plate of pancakes and bacon,
Alexander’s stomach rumbling as he saw it, causing him to blush slightly.
“There we go,” Washington murmured, sitting in a seat across from Alexander.
“Now put your mouth to good use and eat your food.”
Alexander raised an eyebrow at him. “I can think of a lot of different ways to
put my mouth to good use.”
Washington rolled his eyes, kicking him lightly under the table. “Eat.”
Alexander grumbled under his breath, but took a bite of his food; a muffled
moan working its way up his throat at the taste.
His teacher smirked, finishing a bite of bacon. “Good to know I can make you
moan in multiple different ways.”
Alexander’s face began to heat up, and he looked down at his food instead of
giving his teacher the satisfaction of seeing him blush.
…
The rest of breakfast went by relatively silently, only the occasional spouts
of information Alexander would suddenly think up.
By the time his teacher was done, Alexander had already eaten two plates full
of food.
Washington grabbed both of the plates, walking them to the sinking and rinsing
them off, before depositing them in the dishwasher, starting it up quickly.
Alexander stood from his seat, beginning to walk back to the master bedroom,
finding his clothes strewn about.
He grinned to himself, finally getting a good look around the room.
There was a small nightstand on the right side of the bed, two drawers under
it. It, again, was made from dark wood, probably some more mahogany. The bottle
of lube was sitting on it, as though it was the most natural spot for it to be.
He found his boxers, dropping his towel and pulling them on, not bothering with
anything else.
Washington had made the bed at some point, and Alexander ran his fingers over
the comforter on top. He liked the way the green looked under his hand, the
color contrasting perfectly with his own skin tone.
He wandered from the bed, walking over to the dresser. There were four drawers,
each with two handles, made from what looked like gold, but was most likely
another metal painted to look like it.
He opened the top one, only finding some sweats. He groaned, closing it,
choosing not to open any of the other drawers, figuring they’d be filled with
much of the same.
He walked over to the desk, next, running his hand over the smooth surface. He
could imagine Washington working here, papers and pens strewed about.
He sat down in the chair, sturdy wood, a comfortable cushion on the seat of it.
Leaning back, he finally got a good look at the painting above it.
It appeared to be a close-up of a Christmas tree, each individual needle a
different shade of green. It made it easy to differentiate each different
branch. It was a painting of a real tree for sure, ornaments adorning a few.
You could barely make out strands of lights strung over it, not turned on, yet
the painter managed to still make them look like small glass bulbs.
The floor creaked, causing Alexander to leave his concentration, twisting his
neck to look at the figure walking in.
It shouldn’t have surprised him to see Washington standing a few feet behind
him, staring up at the painting as well.
“I bought that at a festival back in Kansas,” he murmured. “A thirteen-year-old
had painted it, she was selling a bunch of them, only asking a few bucks a
piece, I paid thirty for it.”
He was smiling to himself as if reminiscing, but Alexander had a question. “Why
were you in Kansas?”
Washington looked down at him, and Alexander could see him twisting the ring on
his finger. “I went with my ex-wife years ago,” he told him. “Trying to save
the marriage, obviously it didn’t work.”
Alexander fell silent, turning back to the painting to refrain from asking any
more questions. Washington walked up behind him, resting his hands on the boy’s
shoulders. “I actually want to move it to the living room,” he murmured. “I’ll
do that while you finish getting dressed.”
Alexander grumbled under his breath, moving to stand up as Washington reached
over the desk and grabbing the painting, beginning to walk out of the room.
“You know,” Alexander called after him. “You said that if you joined me in the
shower, we wouldn’t be leaving the apartment today.”
He heard the telltale sound of Washington laughing softly, though he didn’t get
any other answer.
The boy waited a few more moments, waiting for his teacher to come back,
though, when he didn’t, he whined softly to himself, and began to get dressed.
***** Chapter Twelve *****
Chapter Summary
     His teacher only shook his head, a hand reaching between them to palm
     at the front of Alexander’s jeans.
     He could feel his cock twitch, a small moan falling from his lips.
     “Daddy,” he whispered.
     Washington pulled back, the smile on his lips proud, as the doors
     opened. His hand landed on Alexander’s lower back, pushing him
     towards the front doors of the building. He gave another polite nod
     and smile to the doorman, no words spoken, though the doorman had a
     knowing look on his face.
     Alexander blushed under the gaze of the man, tucking himself closer
     to Washington, letting himself be led through the parking garage and
     to the car.
     He was going to get revenge during the ride, one way or another.
Chapter Notes
     This would've been up sooner, but I had dance and homework and I just
     couldn't finish the chapter until now.
     I hope it's worth the wait.
     Read on.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Once dressed, Alexander made his way back out to the living room, Washington
standing once again at the window, seemingly off in his own world.
“Sir,” Alexander murmured, walking up behind him.
Washington turned lazily to look at him. “You know, you can call me George,” he
told him. “I think we’re to first name basis by now.”
Alexander blushed, looking down at his feet, toeing the floor with his worn
sneakers.
“Your shoes are pretty awful,” Washington murmured, staring intently down at
them. “How long have you had them?”
Shrugging, Alexander looked back up at him. “I had them before I moved into my
foster parent’s place,” he told him, trying to think. “So over four years.”
Washington huffed softly, shaking his head. “Haven’t they worn through?”
Alexander frowned. “Stop dissing on my shoes, old man,” he grumbled. “They’re
comfy and reliable.”
Washington’s shoulder shook with a silent laugh, looking back out the window.
“Reliable until you step on a puddle, maybe.”
“You picked up on me calling them reliable but didn’t say anything about me
calling you old,” Alexander pointed out.
“You did call me daddy multiple times,” Washington said simply. “I would hope
you don’t call people your age that. I’m aware I’m older than you.”
Heat flared on Alexander’s face, causing him to purse his lips. “I don’t call
anyone that,” he muttered. “But you can’t deny that you liked it.”
Washington hummed, arms uncrossing, laying loosely at his sides. “I didn’t deny
it.”
Alexander grinned. “So why would I need to call you George if I can just call
you daddy, instead?”
The hand closest to Alexander reached out, pulling him into Washington’s chest,
the boy could feel the heartbeat against him. “You can call me daddy as much as
you want, as long as no one we know can hear you.”
Alexander nodded. “I can understand that,” he murmured, heart rate spiking at
the sudden closeness, staring up into the eyes of his teacher.
“Let’s go get you clothes, baby,” his teacher stated, pulling him towards the
elevator.
Alexander whined again but allowed himself to be led.
The moment the door closed, Alexander was pressed into one of the gleaming
walls, hands roaming over his sides. He let out a surprised gasp, hands jumping
up to wrap around his teacher. “What?”
Washington chuckled, moving to suck a hickey on his neck. “I won’t be able to
do this all day,” he murmured. “I’m getting it out of my system.”
Alexander grumbled. “All you’re going to do is make me hard.”
Washington pulled back, a grin plastered on his face. “That too.”
Alexander whined, hands coming up in a futile attempt to push him away.
His teacher only shook his head, a hand reaching between them to palm at the
front of Alexander’s jeans.
He could feel his cock twitch, a small moan falling from his lips. “Daddy,” he
whispered.
Washington pulled back, the smile on his lips proud, as the doors opened. His
hand landed on Alexander’s lower back, pushing him towards the front doors of
the building. He gave another polite nod and smile to the doorman, no words
spoken, though the doorman had a knowing look on his face.
Alexander blushed under the gaze of the man, tucking himself closer to
Washington, letting himself be led through the parking garage and to the car.
He was going to get revenge during the ride, one way or another.
…
The first half hour went by relatively peacefully, music playing softly in the
background, the city flying by.
“Where are we going?” Alexander had been wondering for a while, only just now
working up the courage to ask.
His teacher barely looked at him, staring at the road as if he were afraid it
would suddenly drop off. “About another hour away,” he told him. “I figured it
would be better if we shop somewhere where people don’t know us.”
“Yes,” Alexander agreed. “But where?”
Washington looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “It’s a surprise,” he said
sarcastically.
“You don’t even know where we’re going,” Alexander stated, leaning towards him.
“You’re just driving for as long as you can.”
Washington nodded. “That’s true,” he agreed, shrugging his shoulders.
Alexander grinned, reaching a hand over and palming his teacher through his
dress pants. He could feel his cock beginning to harden, though the man gave no
indication of it bothering him.
Alexander huffed, looking out the front window, making sure there weren’t many
cars, before unzipping Washington’s pants, reaching his hand in and slowly
stroking him.
That got a reaction out of him, a low moan, though he didn’t falter in his
driving.
Alexander continued his ministrations for a few minutes, occasionally twisting
his wrist at the top, before pulling his hand away altogether.
Washington glanced over at him, clearly confused. “Is there a reason you
stopped?”
“If I have to be hard, you have to be hard,” Alexander stated decidedly,
smirking to himself.
Washington shook his head, reaching one hand down to zip his pants back up.
“The only difference is, I don’t care.”
Alexander whined loudly, instead sliding his hand into his jeans, unbuttoning
them and pulling his cock from his boxers, beginning to stroke himself.
He made sure to let all his noises be heard, loud moans and soft gasps,
whispered words, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.
“Daddy,” he moaned out, toes curling in his sneakers. “Oh, god, daddy, it feels
so good.”
Washington sucked in a breath, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. “You
going to come?” he asked softly. “Using your own hand, wishing it was me.”
Alexander nodded quickly, fucking himself somewhat awkwardly into his own fist.
“It could be you,” he grated out. “You could pull over, make me feel good.”
Washington shook his head. “You have to make yourself feel good,” he told him.
“Come into your own hand. Make sure none of it gets on my car.”
Alexander whined, his strokes speeding up. “Daddy, daddy, please. Oh god.”
Washington hummed, trying to remain stoic, though as Alexander glanced over, he
could see the man’s cock twitch in his pants.
That sight alone was enough to push Alexander over the edge, coming into his
hand hard enough to see stars.
“Good girl,” Washington whispered, smiling to himself. “So proud of you.”
Alexander stared at his hand, covered in his own come, before bringing it to
his lips, tongue darting experimentally out, licking up a drop.
He moaned despite himself, sparing a glance at his teacher to see his reaction.
“Jeez, baby,” he was whispering. “You gonna clean yourself up?”
Alexander nodded quickly, licking his hand clean within minutes, tucking
himself back into his pants, content with himself.
By the time he looked up, he noticed Washington was pulling into a deserted
parking lot.
“What’re we doing?” Alexander asked.
“You’re going to make your daddy feel good,” Washington told him, already
pulling his cock out. “Make it up to me for showing yourself off like that.”
“Won’t somebody see?” Alexander asked incredulously, looking around them.
“No one’s here,” Washington pointed out. “Besides the windows are tinted dark
enough, they won’t be able to see in here.”
Alexander hummed, taking the man’s word for it, leaning forward, beginning to
open his mouth.
Chapter End Notes
     So I'm thinking about making a Tumblr specifically for my profile on
     here, just to keep you guys updated and to get your ideas on things.
     Do you guys think that would be a good idea?
     And if you do, do you have any ideas for a name?
     Comment away, even if you're yelling at me for not finishing (or even
     starting) that blowjob.
***** Chapter Thirteen *****
Chapter Summary
     Alexander stayed where he was until he knew the man was done, leaning
     back and swallowing thickly.
     He grinned up at him, still leaning over the console. “Happy?”
     His teacher nodded, untangling his hair and running a thumb over
     Alexander’s cheek. “Good girl,” he murmured.
     Alexander preened, sitting back up in his seat with a happy dance to
     his movements.
Chapter Notes
     Yo, a chapter a day.
     It's not long, I've been studying for my ACT so I've been a bit busy.

     But after Saturday I'll have time again to write a bunch and I'll
     make it up to all of you.
     Enjoy.
Alexander looked up at Washington, a malicious grin on his face, giving the
head of his cock little kitten licks.
His teacher groaned above him, hand already tangling in the boy’s hair, tugging
hard. “Either get on moving, baby, or you’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.”
Alexander gasped, giving Washington the perfect opportunity to thrust up into
his mouth, quickly gagging him.
This time his teacher didn’t check if he was okay, only twisting the fingers in
his hair, a simple signal for him to get going.
Alexander did so quickly, bobbing his head up and down, ignoring the pain in
his stomach as the center console dug in there.
The man above him moaned, and Alexander could imagine what he looked like. His
head was probably leaning back on the seat, his eyes closed, and his lips
parted. He would be a vision, Alexander knew that much.
He set up a rhythm, bobbing quickly before staying put for a few seconds,
running his tongue along the vein under his cock, the hands momentarily
tightening in his hair.
It took only a few minutes, maybe longer, but Alexander was stuck in a world of
bliss that he never knew would be so amazing, before Washington was coming down
his throat for the second time that day.
Alexander stayed where he was until he knew the man was done, leaning back and
swallowing thickly.
He grinned up at him, still leaning over the console. “Happy?”
His teacher nodded, untangling his hair and running a thumb over Alexander’s
cheek. “Good girl,” he murmured.
Alexander preened, sitting back up in his seat with a happy dance to his
movements.
Washington watched him for a few moments, before smiling to himself, putting
his car back into drive and pulling out of the parking lot.
“Now, no more of that,” he told the boy.
…
The ride went smoothly after that, Alexander playing a few games on his phone
while he waited, only occasionally grinning over at Washington, who, in turn,
shook his head at the boy.
They eventually drove into another city, though Alexander didn’t recognize it,
having not been many places in his life.
There were tall buildings, not as tall as New York, but tall enough to be a
city that Alexander couldn’t afford anything here.
The shop Washington pulled into was nondescript from the outside, a simple
black building, though it was obviously a clothing store.
His teacher parked the car, turning it off, and looking over at Alexander.
“Ready?”
Alexander nodded quickly. “I can’t wait to walk again,” he said happily,
climbing out of the passenger side and stretching his arms over his head,
ignoring the disgusting way his back popped.
Washington didn’t walk around to his side, instead moving to the front of the
car and waiting. He didn’t lead Alexander with a hand on his back, obviously
making sure not to let anyone see them.
It made Alexander bristle, used to the feeling of people not wanting to be seen
with him. Of course, he understood the reason right now; it was obvious why
Washington was keeping his distance.
He didn’t say anything about it, looking down at his feet as they walked into
the store.
It was filled with expensive clothes, things that people wouldn’t look twice at
in his school. He had to wonder if this was the type of store his classmates
shopped in.
Washington began to look around, occasionally holding things up as though he
were imagining them on Alexander.
Alexander himself didn’t really know what to look at. He knew he looked good in
dark greens, or blues, occasionally reds, but he hadn’t ever really shopped.
He’d pick up what he could, mostly unexciting.
By the time Washington walked up to him with an armful of clothes, Alexander
had picked out one thing. A hoodie made of soft, warm material. It was also one
of the cheapest things he could find.
Washington sighed softly, checking the price tag on it. “You know you don’t
have to pick things just because of the price,” he murmured.
Alexander shrugged, not saying anything back, though he took the clothes from
his teacher and made his way back to the dressing rooms. He let the lady there
count how many articles of clothing he had before he stepped into one of the
open rooms.
He pulled on a pair of jeans first, the material stretchy, though it hugged his
legs. He could immediately tell why his teacher had chosen this pair; it showed
off the curves he always said he didn’t have.
He shook his head, opening the door and looking out, seeing Washington standing
a few feet away leaning against a wall.
The man grinned as he saw Alexander, holding his finger up in a motion that
meant for him to turn in a circle.
Alexander rolled his eyes, though he made the movement, turning slowly.
Washington’s eyes lit up, before growing dark. He glanced around the store, the
woman from the back now working to put garments back in their desired places.
With no other customers in sight, Washington looked back at Alexander, walking
towards him and pushing him into the dressing room.
Alexander grinned as his back hit the wall.
***** Chapter Fourteen *****
Chapter Summary
     The clerk was now back by the dressing rooms, and she gave him a
     look.
     “He couldn’t figure out how to get a shirt on,” Washington told her,
     waving his hand a bit.
     He could barely make out the grumble that came from behind the closed
     door. He struggled to cover up his smile.
     “He’s got a headache,” he added, giving her an apologetic look.
     “You’re my headache!” Alexander called from inside the room, a
     shuffling noise following it.
Chapter Notes
     Yo, I got another chapter, one day late.
     I have an excuse, though.
     So, yesterday, I couldn't write in school.
     Then after school, my friend invited herself over so I had to
     entertain her.(It was chill though, except that she fucking quoted
     ALL of the Grinch. ://///)
     Then there was a basketball game, and so I had to go to that.
     And -then- I had to go to bed early in order to wake up for my ACT
     this morning.
     And so now, a new chapter.
     I also have a question at the end of the chapter, so do me a favor
     and read that note too.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Washington pressed the boy into the wall, closing the door to the dressing room
with his foot, one hand reaching back to lock it, before coming to rest on the
small of Alexander’s back, pulling him flush against his teacher.
The boy was beautiful; Washington could admit that much. He was beautiful, in
an almost feminine way.
The way his body curved, the way it arched into his touch, the way he moaned
softly, all feminine in a way.
Washington had kept his composure as they had chosen clothes, having to refrain
from looking at Alexander to keep from doing anything stupid.
But when the boy had come out in those jeans. They hugged his figure, showing
off his…assets.
In his defense, he did check to make sure no one was looking before he backed
Alexander into the wall.
He could already see the grin on his boy’s face, obviously happy with what was
happening, and Washington pushed him farther into the wall, harder than he had
meant to, but it made Alexander stop smiling, gasping instead. He could feel
the hard press of the boy’s cock against his thigh.
It was Washington’s turn to grin, a dark and malicious smile, staring down at
him.
“Can’t resist me, can you?” Alexander asked sarcastically, obviously proud of
himself.
Washington prided himself on his control, and that wasn’t going to change now.
He took a step back, straightening his shirt.
Alexander whined, stepping forward, reaching out for him.
Washington shook his head, opening the door and stepping out.
The clerk was now back by the dressing rooms, and she gave him a look.
“He couldn’t figure out how to get a shirt on,” Washington told her, waving his
hand a bit.
He could barely make out the grumble that came from behind the closed door. He
struggled to cover up his smile.
“He’s got a headache,” he added, giving her an apologetic look.
“You’re my headache!” Alexander called from inside the room, a shuffling noise
following it.
The lady sneered slightly, before shaking her head and turning away, walking
back to the front desk.
As soon as she was gone, Washington opened the door, just in time to see
Alexander’s hand down his pants.
He raised an eyebrow, Alexander stilling as he watched him. “Yes?”
“Hand, out,” Washington told him lowly, not stepping father into the room.
“Now.”
Alexander immediately obeyed, swallowing thickly. “Yes, sir,” he whispered.
Washington chuckled. “Get your own clothes back on,” he told him. “We’re going
to another store. Grab all the clothes I got you, I’ll buy them.”
Alexander nodded, already beginning to change out of the jeans, pulling his own
ratty ones back on. He gathered the other clothes in his arms, a large pile
now, no longer lying simply.
Washington smiled, happy with how his boy was acting. His boy. He couldn’t
remember when he started to think about him like that. But it was true.
Alexander was his, for now at least. Hopefully for a while.
…
The next shop they came upon caused Alexander’s jaw to drop open.
“We’re at a sex shop,” he said airily, moving to unbuckle his seatbelt.
Washington shook his head, bringing his hand over and covering Alexander’s.
“You can’t go in, baby,” he told him. “You aren’t eighteen yet.”
Alexander whined, crossing his arms over his chest. “How will you know what to
buy, then?”
Grinning, Washington began to climb out the door. “I’ll know what to get. Trust
me.”
He shut the door before Alexander could retort, waving to him as he walked
towards the store. He hadn’t been in one for ages, never had bought anything,
though.
The clerk greeted him cheerily, already announcing the sales that were going
on.
“So what can I help you find, sir?” the man asked, young, not as young as
Alexander, maybe early twenties.
Washington looked at the wall behind the counter. “My boyfriend’s in the car,”
he told him, coughing slightly. “He seems to want to have some fun today, but
we’re in public, so I need something to…” he trailed off; trying to decide the
right route to take.
“Punish him?” the man suggested. “Later, of course.”
Washington grinned, looking out towards the car. “Absolutely,” he told him.
“What have you got?”
“The perfect things.”
…
It was nearly half an hour later by the time Washington made it back out to the
car, setting the black bag in the back seat.
“What did you get?” Alexander asked, leaning over the center console. “Can I
see?”
Washington shook his head, putting the car in reverse and driving out. “Nope,
you can wait until we get home.”
He didn’t miss the look of upset that passed over Alexander’s face, though it
was quickly replaced with anticipation. “Yes, daddy,” he told him. “Are we
headed home now?”
Washington chuckled to himself. “We’re going to lunch,” he told him. “I’m
thinking Olive Garden.”
Alexander frowned, crossing his arms. “Can’t we just get something to go?”
Washington looked over, patting Alexander’s thigh. “You can last a few more
hours.”
…
Lunch started quietly, Washington asked for a seat away from the other diners,
scoring them a booth in a back room. The lighting was strange, but it was
something Washington was willing to handle.
Alexander was buzzing with excitement, snapping at the waiter at one point,
earning himself a glare from his teacher.
Alexander ordered a soup as his starter, Washington a salad. Alexander made
sure to lick his spoon clean with every bite, staring Washington down as he did
so.
Washington pretended it didn’t bother him, eating his salad and checking his
phone. He had a few emails from students, asking certain questions about their
projects. Washington would answer those later, he had a few weeks to do so; the
emails would still be there tomorrow.
Alexander whined, low in his throat, sliding his foot up Washington’s leg,
teasing at his crotch.
Washington glared at him again, knocking his boy’s foot down.
Alexander smiled to himself, going back to seductively eating his soup instead.
…
The rest of the dinner passed much the same, with Alexander trying to get
Washington hard.
And it was working.
By the time he had paid, leading Alexander back out to the car. He opened the
door for him, ignoring the cocky look on his face.
Washington got in the front seat, turning on the car and beginning to blare the
heat.
Alexander tried to get his attention, turning his body fully towards him,
reaching his hands over and trying to run them over Washington.
Washington merely batted him away, all but ignoring him for the ride home.
However, once they arrived back at the apartment building, Washington grabbed
the bag from the backseat, handing the one full of clothes to Alexander, and
walking him back inside.
The doorman nodded to Washington, eyeing Alexander. Washington pulled his boy
close, not enjoying the look he was getting. Alexander looked up at him in
confusion, but the man ignored it, glaring at the doorman.
Back in the elevator, Washington pushed him into the wall again, not doing much
more than just looking down at him fondly, running his fingers through his
boy’s hair, tangled from the day.
Alexander looked up at him, cocking his head. “Are you okay?”
Washington nodded, the elevator dinging. “Time to relax,” he murmured, turning
towards the door and leading him back out.
“How are we going to relax?” Alexander asked him.
Washington grinned. “You’ll find out.”
Chapter End Notes
     So for my end question.
     I actually have two.
     1: Should I make a Tumblr to keep ya'll up to date?
     2: If anyone can translate French, what does 'Merde de' mean? My
     friend's sister and I are arguing over it. I won't tell you what
     either of us thinks it is, but I don't think it is what she thinks it
     is.
     So, yeah?
     I'll maybe have another chapter up tomorrow.
     Hopefully.
     Mwah. <3
***** Chapter Fifteen *****
Chapter Summary
     The blush came back full force, and Alexander grabbed the box
     quickly, already looking for a spot that it would open. He made a
     frustrated noise, before finally figuring out how the box worked.
     Washington wished for a moment that he had a camera on his boy. The
     way his eyes grew wide, looking from the box to the man in front of
     him, as though he were wondering whether or not what he was looking
     at was real.
Chapter Notes
     Did anyone ask for shameless porn?
     Oh...no one did....oh well...
     Enjoy my darlings, you've waited patiently, and you deserve this.
     Mwah.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Washington led his boy over to the couch, pulling him into his lap and turning
on the television.
Alexander leaned into his chest, closing his eyes for a few seconds.
Of course, that only lasted a short while.
Washington was focused on the news when he felt Alexander grind down the first
time.
It was barely there, hard to notice if you weren’t expecting it.
However, Washington was expecting it. He pulled his boy closer, humming softly
in his ear. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Alexander grinned, turning his head to look at Washington. “I want to make you
feel good,” he murmured innocently.
Washington chuckled, lifting Alexander up effortlessly and turning him around.
His boy immediately straddled him, cheeks flushed.
Washington pulled him down to bring them face-to-face. “Undress, would you?” he
murmured, running his hands over his boy’s sides.
Alexander nodded quickly, pulling his hoodie and shirt off together, standing
for only a second to rid himself of both his shoes and pants, boxers coming off
along with them.
Washington grinned, pulling him back down. “Wanna see what I got you?” he asked
softly.
The grin that found its way onto his boy’s face was beautiful, his hair moving
as he nodded quickly. “Please, daddy.”
“Of course, baby,” Washington murmured, grabbing the bag he had discarded on
the floor, holding Alexander with one hand.
He could see his boy trying to look into the bag, but Washington knew he
wouldn’t be able to, tissue paper blocking his view.
The first thing he pulled out was a pair of black fuzzy handcuffs, pretty
cliché, but it was worth seeing the way his boy’s eyes lit up at the sight of
them.
“What else did you get?” Alexander asked hopefully, stretching his neck to try
and look in.
Washington hummed. “I have a question first,” he murmured.
“Ask anything,” Alexander told him quickly, eyes flashing down to the handcuffs
and back up again.
Washington paused for a second, trying to phrase his next words carefully.
“Have you been checked?” he questioned. “Are you clean?”
Blush spread over Alexander’s chest, though he didn’t look away from
Washington’s face, and he nodded slowly. “My foster parents made me go like two
weeks ago.”
Washington grinned again. “Good,” he told him, dropping the subject and
reaching back into the bag, pulling out a small nondescript box.
Alexander’s curiosity came back, looking down at the box between them. “What’s
this one?”
Washington gingerly pushed it into Alexander’s chest. “Why don’t you open it,”
he suggested.
The blush came back full force, and Alexander grabbed the box quickly, already
looking for a spot that it would open. He made a frustrated noise, before
finally figuring out how the box worked.
Washington wished for a moment that he had a camera on his boy. The way his
eyes grew wide, looking from the box to the man in front of him, as though he
were wondering whether or not what he was looking at was real.
His boy pulled out the object - a simple, black plug – examining it in his
hand. He pulled the remote out next, raising an eyebrow. “Is this what I think
it is?” he asked, almost hopefully.
Washington only smiled at him, not answering his question.
Alexander, frowning at being purposefully ignored, began playing with the dial
on the remote, the plug vibrating softly in his hand.
His grin only grew, turning off the plug and setting it down carefully in the
box, setting them both on the couch, before throwing himself at Washington,
wrapping his arms around the man’s neck, pressing it for a kiss.
Washington let him have his fun for a few minutes, before pulling back
slightly.
His boy pouted, trying to pull him back into the kiss.
Washington shook his head, hands traveling down Alexander’s back and settling
on his ass, a finger teasing at his hole.
Alexander moaned, moving away from trying to kiss him, instead pushing back,
trying to get that finger to slip in.
“Here’s the deal, baby,” Washington told him, moving his hands to his waist
instead. “You’re gonna go to my room, bring out the lube, sit right like this
again, and get yourself all nice and prepped.”
His boy was already moving, standing up quickly, ass bouncing with the
movement. “But,” the word caused him to stop, and he turned to look back in
confusion.
“But?” he asked softly.
A smirk found it’s way onto Washington’s face. “But once you’re ready, you’re
gonna turn around, sink down on my cock like I know you want to, and you’re
going to fuck yourself, until I decide you’ve had enough,” the smirk was slowly
growing darker. “And then you’re going to sit there. My cock up your beautiful
little ass, and we’re going to watch a movie.”
Alexander whined, trying to keep the pout on his face. “But I can’t come?” he
asked quietly.
Washington shook his head. “No.”
“Why?” Alexander questioned.
“Because you’ve been naughty, trying to seduce me in public,” Washington tsked.
“Maybe I’ll come in you,” he said thoughtfully. “And then I’ll put the plug in,
but not let you come. Not until I think you’re going to pass out from the need,
and maybe not even then. This is your punishment, baby girl.”
Alexander nodded, biting his lip to hide the grin steadily growing on his face.
“Okay, daddy,” he mumbled.
“Now, go get the lube,” Washington told him.
Alexander began moving again, walking towards the master bedroom, and
Washington tried not to look at the way his boy’s ass bounced with every single
step.
Washington went about ridding himself of his own clothes as he waited,
listening to the soft sound of Alexander walking.
It only took a few minutes before Alexander was back in his spot, straddling
Washington, holding the lube with one hand. “I’m going to do it?” he asked
quietly
Washington nodded, pulling the boy’s face down to kiss him softly. “I think
so,” he whispered against his lips.
Alexander huffed, coating a few of his fingers in the lube, before reaching
back.
Washington could tell the minute he slipped the first finger in, a soft moan
falling from his lips, his eyes closing slowly.
Washington pulled his boy’s upper body close to him, letting him get into a
more comfortable position to toy and stretch himself.
The man leaned in, going about creating a hickey on his boy’s neck, biting and
sucking.
He could tell his boy wasn’t sure what to focus on, the feeling of his own
fingers or the feeling of Washington’s mouth on him.
The minutes slid by quickly until Alexander was up to three fingers, moans and
gasps intermingling.
“I think you’re good, baby,” Washington whispered, reaching back to slip one of
his own fingers in along with Alexander’s, causing a loud moan to tear from his
throat.
Washington chuckled, grabbing his hand and pulling it from his own body. “Turn
around, baby,” he murmured, grabbing the lube and slicking himself up, stroking
his cock to fullness.
Alexander nodded quickly, standing slowly, legs wobbling. He turned himself
around, barely getting a second before he was being pulled back, sinking down
on Washington’s cock within a second.
His boy clenched around him, a gasp falling from his lips, eyes closing, head
leaning back onto Washington’s shoulder, trying to catch the breath that had
been knocked out of him.
Washington let him have a few moments to get adjusted, letting himself become
accustomed to the tight heat he was encased in.
Once he had decided his boy had waited long enough, he gave a quick thrust up
into him, working a choked noise out of Alexander.
“Time to move, baby,” Washington whispered in his ear, kissing his neck softly.
His boy nodded, all too excited to make him happy, and began to lift himself
up, dropping down slowly.
“Daddy,” he was whispered, along with other unintelligible words. “Oh, daddy,
daddy, please.”
Washington had to refrain himself from coming, stopping the boy’s movements.
“Time to stop, baby girl,” he murmured.
Alexander shook his head, trying to lift himself up again. “No, daddy,” he
begged.
Washington chuckled, almost unkindly, holding him in place. “No,” he said
simply, reaching for the remote, the small movement causing his boy to moan.
He turned on a random movie, barely paying any attention to it, running his
hands over Alexander’s chest, fingertips barely making contact with the skin.
…
They were about halfway through the movie before anything changed.
Alexander would occasionally try to lift himself, trying to get Washington to
fuck him.
Washington would always tighten his hold, making sure he couldn’t move from his
spot, a few times checking to make sure he was okay.
He would always get a quick nod in return, along with a, “Yes, daddy.”
He decided now would be a good time to torture his boy again, snaking a hand
around and beginning to stroke his neglected cock, slow, not tight enough to
offer any real relief.
But his boy went wild with it, trying to thrust up into the hand, though one of
Washington’s arms was still wrapped around his waist, keeping him from moving
too much.
He could tell when he was getting close, his breathing quickening, and
Washington stopped his movements, taking his hand away.
A loud whine ripped its way from Alexander’s throat, and he twisted his neck to
look at Washington. “Why’d you stop?” he asked breathlessly.
“I told you, you aren’t going to come,” he punctuated the last few words with
hard thrusts up, and by the reaction he got, he was nailing Alexander’s
prostate every time.
His boy nodded, breathing heavily, trying to get comfortable again in
Washington’s arms.
…
The movie seemed to drag on after that, but, true to his word, Washington
didn’t let his boy move anymore during the remainder of it.
By the time the end came, he could tell Alexander was getting restless, never
having to sit in the same spot for so long.
Washington shut off the television, tossing the remote towards a recliner a few
feet away.
“Get up, baby,” he murmured, kissing the side of Alexander’s neck.
His boy whined, shaking his head.
Washington chuckled. “So, you don’t want me to fuck you, then?” he questioned.
That caught his attention, and he nodded quickly, carefully moving to get up.
“Where?”
Washington thought for a moment, standing up as well, reaching out and grabbing
Alexander, hand falling under his ass, pulling him up.
Alexander went along willingly, legs wrapping around Washington’s waist, though
his face was covered in confusion.
Washington smirked, walking forward slowly.
He could tell the second Alexander’s back hit the window, the confusion turning
to surprise, and he tried to wriggle away from the cold glass.
Washington hummed, setting Alexander back on the ground, turning him around.
Alexander began to make a smart comment, though he was quickly shut up as soon
as Washington pressed his cock back into Alexander’s hole.
His boy moaned lowly, the air fogging up a section of glass before Washington
began thrusting into him earnestly.
Alexander went crazy, scrambling to find purchase on the glass, hands mostly
sliding around.
If Washington stared out the window long enough, he could see into the windows
of the building across from them, could see a man with his hand down his dress
pants.
Washington growled, as though the man could hear him, and thrust in a bit too
hard, his boy tightening around him, before he came all over the window,
dripping down.
That was all it took to push Washington over the edge, coming inside his boy.
Alexander had his forehead pressed against the glass, breathing heavily, before
whispering, “That man is watching the show.”
Washington chuckled, looking up in time to see the front of the man’s pants
darken, giving away what had happened.
Alexander sneered, shaking his head.
Washington pulled out carefully, spinning his boy around and lifting him up
again, immediately pushing three fingers into his already fucked out hole.
“Thought you weren’t going to let me come,” Alexander said sarcastically,
though Washington could hear the hitch in his voice as he crooked his fingers
inside him.
“I’ll just torture you some more,” he told him, laying him down on the couch.
He kept his fingers in him until he reached into the black box on the couch,
pulling out the plug.
Alexander’s eyes grew wide, his legs moving just that much more open. “Daddy,”
he whispered.
“So desperate,” Washington whispered, pulling his fingers out of his hole,
practically shoving the plug in to take their place.
Alexander spasmed, squeezing his eyes shut, gasping loudly. “Fuck,” he
muttered, before realizing what he had said, eyes snapping open. “I mean-“
He was cut off as Washington turned the plug on, not letting him get prepared
for it, turning it to the highest setting it could go.
Alexander all but screamed, toes curling, eyes closing tightly. “Sorry, sorry,
daddy, please,” he was begging, Washington wasn’t even sure he knew what he was
begging for.
He gave him relief after a few more seconds, turning the plug off as abruptly
as he had turned it on.
His boy’s cock was already taking an interest again, growing hard against his
stomach.
Alexander was catching his breath; Washington moved to kneel on the floor,
pulling his boy’s legs apart, watching his hole trying to pull the plug in.
Washington chuckled, reaching forward and pushing it in, just a little bit, but
enough that Alexander’s legs wrapped around him, heels digging into his back.
“I take it you like your present,” Washington teased, getting himself free.
Alexander was staring up at him, pupils blown wide. “I do,” he whispered.
“Thank you, daddy.”
His gaze drifted from Washington to the black bag on the floor, obviously still
containing something else.
“What else is in there?” he asked innocently, as though he hadn’t just been
fucked against a window.
Washington smiled darkly, reaching in and pulling out another box, longer than
the one the plug had been held in.
Alexander sat up, moaning as the plug moved inside of him.
He took the box carefully from Washington, holding it in front of himself.
His boy opened the box easier than the first on, grinning at what he found in
there.
“A vibrator,” he murmured. “Suction cup, you have plans for that?” he asked,
pulling out the remote, nearly identical to the one that operated the plug,
only this one was more of a darker gray.
“I have plans for it,” Washington agreed.
Washington reached into the bag, pulling out another box identical to the last
one, holding it out. “I figured one for here and one for yourself when I’m not
with you, I'm not sure if that one has a suction, though.”
Alexander’s eyes lit up, his arms flying around Washington’s neck, kissing him
deeply. “Thank you, daddy,” he whispered, moaning as Washington turned the plug
on to a low setting.
“Of course, baby girl,” Washington murmured, holding him close. “What do you
want to do for the rest of the night?”
Alexander seemed to ponder for a few moments, before shrugging. “Movie? Nap?”
Washington laughed, scooping the boy up, grabbing both the handcuffs and the
vibrator box, along with the lube. “I think I should get you off, first, and
then we can take a nap,” he told him, carrying him towards the master bedroom.
Alexander nodded. “Please, daddy,” he murmured.
“Of course, darling,” Washington whispered, laying him down on the bed. “Give
me your wrists.”
Alexander seemed to be at a loss for words, offering his wrists up slowly.
Washington grabbed them carefully, cuffing one and taking the chain through the
poles on the headboard, cuffing the other one.
Alexander seemed to be taking interest, watching Washington with dark eyes.
Once Washington was done, he looked down at him. “Good? Not too tight?”
Alexander smiled. “Not too tight, daddy.”
Washington grinned, shutting off the plug and reaching forward, pulling it out
of his boy carefully, setting it and the remote on the nightstand beside his
bed, before grabbing the vibrator, slicking it up with lube, and began pushing
it slowly into Alexander’s hole.
Alexander’s eyes drifted closed, a soft moan making it’s way out of his throat.
“Oh,” he murmured.
Washington went about thrusting in and out a few times before turning it on,
choosing the highest setting.
His boy’s toes curled, moans and heavy breaths being the only sounds in the
room.
It only took a few minutes before he was coming again, moans of “daddy” falling
from his lips. This orgasm was less intense than the one before, though it
still left his boy breathless.
Once he was done, Washington turned the vibrator off and pulled it out,
pressing the plug back in, though he didn’t turn it on.
He found a rag, cleaning his boy’s stomach and thighs up, before finally
uncuffing him, laying down beside him, holding him close.
He turned on the television, letting the movie that was playing fade into the
background, as he and his boy slowly began to fall asleep.
Chapter End Notes
     So this was my longest chapter, while most of them range from 3 to 4
     pages this was one was wopping........ 10 pages.
     Holy shit.
     I started writing and just....didn't stop.
     Hope you enjoyed it, and until next time...
     See you then. <3
***** Chapter Sixteen *****
Chapter Summary
     There was a hand in his hair, stroking it, as though Washington was
     trying to comfort him.
     Alexander realized that the hand in his hair had been the one
     previously wrapped around his waist, and he moved to make his escape.
     The hand in his hair tightened, holding him in place, pinpricks of
     pain breaking out across his head.
     He couldn’t figure out what to focus on, the pain in his hair or the
     pleasure coursing through him. He decided to go for the soft sound of
     Washington shushing him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear.
Chapter Notes
     I am so sorry for the delay on this chapter, and I am even sorrier
     that it isn't longer.
     It's been a hectic week. I've been studying for my finals next week,
     had play tryouts (and got a role) and had dance classes both
     Wednesday and Thursday.
     Hopefully, I'll be able to write more this weekend, but for the next
     week updating is going to be sporadic and maybe even nonexistent, but
     after that, I'll be on break and all will be good. I will be able to
     update daily, and I can get out all my own sexual tension, thrusting
     it upon the two poor souls in my story.
     Also, I finally gave you guys kind of a time of date. If I counted
     right, it should be the twentieth of December, which is when most
     schools have let out for winter break around my town. But not mine,
     because fuck my school.
     Also, I'm using Hamilton's actual birthday (January 11) to go off of.
     I'll stop here, hope you enjoy.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Alexander woke up to his body buzzing.
And not a normal buzz, like the one you have after drinking too many Red Bull
coffee cocktails, but actually –physically- buzzing.
He groaned as he realized what it was, toes curling into the sheets beneath
him.
There was a quiet chuckle that came from behind him, followed by a kiss to the
top of his head.
“Turn it off,” Alexander whined, fidgeting in the bed now, trying to stave off
the oncoming erection.
Washington laughed again. “No, baby,” he told him, his hand sliding down
Alexander’s side, squeezing his ass, before coming to rest on the edge of the
plug.
Alexander knew immediately what he was going to do, and he tried to move away
from the touch. “Don’t you dare,” he told him, trying to sound intimidating.
One of Washington’s arms was wrapped around Alexander’s waist, so any move to
get away was futile.
Alexander could feel the vibrations turning up, and he forced a moan down,
still trying to get away when the hand pushed the plug in further.
And curse Washington for having such perfect aim.
Alexander nearly wailed, hands grabbing for the pillow beneath his head,
pressing his face into it, biting down on the fabric.
There was a hand in his hair, stroking it, as though Washington was trying to
comfort him.
Alexander realized that the hand in his hair had been the one previously
wrapped around his waist, and he moved to make his escape.
The hand in his hair tightened, holding him in place, pinpricks of pain
breaking out across his head.
He couldn’t figure out what to focus on, the pain in his hair or the pleasure
coursing through him. He decided to go for the soft sound of Washington
shushing him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear.
Of course, he’d be able to focus more on the words if Washington hadn’t decided
to start slowly fucking him with the plug.
Alexander vaguely noticed that he was speaking, words coming out as a garbled
mess.
It took him a second to realize Washington had shut off the plug, had stopped
pressing on it.
He carefully rolled Alexander over; kissing his forehead, wiping tears that he
hadn’t realized had begun falling.
“Such a good boy,” Washington was whispering. “You’re doing so good.”
Alexander shook his head, ducking his head and burying it in his teacher’s
chest. “Please don’t,” he whispered.
Of course, no matter how much he begged, Washington had his mind set on
torturing him, probably until he came.
Washington wrapped one arm around Alexander’s back, using the other hand to
turn on the plug again, before setting the remote down and wrapping the hand
around Alexander’s cock instead.
Alexander moaned quietly, keeping his face pressed where it was against
Washington’s chest, biting his lip.
Washington was slowly stroking him, almost as though he was teasing him, but it
was quickly pushing Alexander towards the edge, and within seconds the mix of
his teacher stroking him off and the vibrations of the plug sent him plummeting
over the drop-off, coming between them, shaking with the effort.
The vibrations cut off in a second; Alexander hadn’t even realized the hand had
disappeared from his cock. The arm that was wrapped around him moved, pulling
the plug out, causing Alexander to wince; he was already in the realm of
overstimulation.
He heard Washington set both the plug and the remote on the nightstand, and
then there was a cloth wiping off his stomach.
“Go back to sleep, baby,” he was whispering. “I’ll wake you later.”
Alexander tried to argue with him, but nothing came out, and he drifted off to
sleep.
…
The next time Alexander woke, the bed was empty. He could barely make out the
noise of the television in the living room, and he sat up on the bed, ignoring
how all his muscles seemed to protest the movement.
He looked around, spying the bag from the clothing store sitting on top of the
dresser, and he slowly made his way towards it, trying not to make too much
noise.
There were all of two pairs of sweats in the bag, soft fabric and thick enough
to keep him warm. He grabbed a gray pair, pulling them on, and began to make
his way to the living room.
It didn’t surprise him when Washington turned his head as he walked up, smiling
lightly at him. “I didn’t think you’d be up already,” he murmured.
Alexander shrugged, walking in and sitting on the couch beside him, curling up
beside his teacher. “You weren’t in the bedroom when I woke up.”
“I had some grading to do,” Washington whispered, wrapping an arm around the
boy’s shoulders. “How do you feel?”
Alexander laughed softly. “Thoroughly fucked and sore,” he told him simply,
hitting his chest lightly. “Asshole.”
Washington grinned to himself, leaning over to kiss the top of Alexander’s
head. “That was truly the plan,” he told him. “But are you okay?”
Alexander nodded. “I’m fine,” he murmured, closing his eyes, still tired.
“You can go back to sleep,” Washington whispered. “I’m watching a movie, it’s
only just started, I’ll wake you up when it’s over.”
Alexander nodded. “Yeah, okay,” he mumbled. “Sleeping sounds good.”
…
Alexander woke slowly, his shoulder being shaken lightly. “Alex,” a voice was
whispering. “Alex, baby, wake up.”
He groaned, forcing his eyes to open. “Has your movie finished already?” he
grumbled.
Washington chuckled. “Not quite, but your phone is going off.”
Alexander huffed, looking around.
His phone was lying on the coffee table, though he couldn’t remember when it
had got there, and sure enough, it was ringing obnoxiously.
He reached forward, glancing at the caller ID. “It’s my foster parents,” he
mumbled, pressing the answer button. “This’ll only take a minute.”
…
True to his word, the call barely took an entire minute, and he was hanging up,
dropping the phone unceremoniously onto the couch beside him.
“So?” Washington questioned, looking down at him. “Are they coming home?”
“Four days,” Alexander told him, curling closer. “And I was getting used to
your apartment,” he mumbled.
Washington only laughed, shaking his head. “I assure you, I’ll bring you back
here as often as I can,” he told him. “And you turn eighteen in how many
months?”
Alexander pursed his lips, counting in his head. “One, or to be exact twenty-
one days.”
“One month,” Washington repeated. “Twenty-one days,” he chuckled. “Are you
graduating early?”
Alexander nodded, a proud grin on his face. “End of January, earliest person,”
he counted in his head. “January twenty-eighth, so thirty-three days.”
Washington hummed. “Well, after that, technically we wouldn’t have to hide
anymore,” he told him. “Though, we might keep if on the low, if you want to
continue this.”
Alexander raised an eyebrow. “The minute I say I don’t want to continue this, I
want you to shoot me. Or have someone else do it because I will have gone
crazy.”
Washington chuckled, pulling him into his lap, not wanting to start anything,
Alexander decided, just to hold him there. And Alexander leaned back into him,
starting to watch the movie that was on.
Chapter End Notes
     Mwah.
***** Chapter Seventeen *****
Chapter Summary
     George hummed, stroking over Alexander’s hipbones. “You need to eat
     more,” he whispered. “You’re all bones.”
     Alexander crossed his arms. “I am not all bones,” he grumbled.
     George grinned, hands dipping a bit lower. “You’re right, you aren’t
     all bones,” he murmured, squeezing his ass lightly.
Chapter Notes
     This one is so fluffy I'm gonna cry.
     Hope you enjoy, I got more notes at the end.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Four.
How many days Alexander had left at Washington’s – George’s, he had to remember
that he had told him to call him that – house.
Ninety-six.
A little more than the number of hours he had left.
It was one in the afternoon. December 20th. His foster parents would be back on
Christmas Eve. He would probably end up at some ridiculous office party for
their work. People constantly asking him if he had a girlfriend yet – he’s
literally told them all he was gay, like, thirty times.
But really, heaven forbid he like dudes instead of chicks.
He groaned to himself, momentarily lost in his thoughts.
Washington – George – hummed quietly, and Alexander could feel his gaze shift
down to look at him. “Are you very much okay?” he questioned softly.
“Just thinking,” Alexander answered simply, moving his position so that he head
was in George’s lap, turning it to look up at him.
“You look so innocent,” George murmured, chuckling to himself.
Alexander, of course, scoffed at him. “I am innocent.”
George raised an eyebrow at him. “Uh huh, so what was yesterday, then? Were you
showing me how innocent you could be?”
Alexander flushed, turning his face to the television instead, shifting
slightly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he grumbled.
George hummed again, though he didn’t say anything back, moving to run his
fingers through Alexander’s hair instead.
Alexander sighed softly, closing his eyes with a slight smile on his face.
“I love your hair,” George whispered. “I love how soft it is.”
Alexander hummed his agreement. “I like it when you play with my hair,” he
murmured.
“You like it when I pull it, too,” George said with a laugh, tugging lightly on
the strands as if to prove his point.
And of course he was right, the gentle tug working a quiet gasp from
Alexander’s lips.
George went back to combing through the strands of hair, and Alexander went
back to watching the television, content to just lay there with him.
…
Alexander didn’t know he had dozed off until George was shaking him slightly.
“Whaaa-“ Alexander mumbled, peeling his eyes open. The sun was beginning to set
outside, giving away that he had wasted one day.
“What time is it?” he asked groggily, turning to look up blearily at George.
George lifted an arm, looking at his – incredibly expensive looking – watch.
“Just past five,” he told him softly. “You looked so tired, I couldn’t bring
myself to wake you up. So I just started a new movie and watched it. And then
that movie ended, but you were still out, and you look cute when you sleep, so
on went another movie,” he shrugged slightly, giving him a smile.
“You should’ve woken me up,” Alexander practically whined, though it fell
short, tiredness still in his tone.
George only laughed, shaking his head, stroking his thumb over Alexander’s
cheek. “Be happy I woke you at all,” he murmured. “I was just going to let you
sleep until you woke up yourself, but you need food.”
Alexander huffed slightly, though he would be lying if he said he wasn’t
grateful for the extra hours of sleep.
“How much sleep have you gotten in the last week?” George questioned softly.
Alexander took a moment to think, lips moving as he counted. “Uh, well, it was
finals week,” he murmured, as though that would be an excuse for what he said
next. “So, like, about twenty hours, give or take.”
George raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. “I can’t believe you. How are you
still functioning?”
Alexander shrugged, slowly pushing himself up so he was sitting, shaking his
head to get rid of the dizziness. “I’m used to it,” he told him simply.
George murmured something under his breath, so low Alexander couldn’t make out
a single word and moved to stand, holding a hand out for the boy to take.
Alexander sighed softly, standing up and stretching, his back popping
disgustingly loud, causing him to wince, looking up apologetically at George.
The man only shook his head, grabbing Alexander’s hand once again and leading
him towards the kitchen, pulling out a chair for him.
“Have I ever told you how uncomfortable your chairs are?” Alexander questioned,
instead moving to sit up on the table, kicking his feet a bit.
George grinning at him, leaning down to peck his lips before pushing the chair
back in and turning back to the stove. “What do you want to eat?” he
questioned.
Alexander shrugged, looking down at where his feet were dangling. “What do you
want?”
“Well, we already had spaghetti, maybe grilled cheese?” George suggested,
pulling out some bread and walking towards the fridge to get cheese.
“And tomato soup?” Alexander asked hopefully, a smile on his face.
George laughed. “And tomato soup,” he agreed.
Alexander’s smile grew, and he watched George with intense eyes.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” George asked softly, walking towards him
and resting his hands on Alexander’s hips.
Alexander shrugged, dropping his gaze bashfully. “Just zoned off, I guess.”
George hummed, stroking over Alexander’s hipbones. “You need to eat more,” he
whispered. “You’re all bones.”
Alexander crossed his arms. “I am not all bones,” he grumbled.
George grinned, hands dipping a bit lower. “You’re right, you aren’t all
bones,” he murmured, squeezing his ass lightly. “But I’m still going to make
you eat a lot while you’re still here.”
Alexander groaned, but he kept a soft smile on his face. “You spoil me,” he
murmured.
George nodded, turning away from him and focusing on making the food again. “I
know, I plan on spoiling you so much these next four days, or three since today
is almost over.”
Alexander hummed, perfectly fine with agreeing. “I think I could handle that,”
he told him.
…
Alexander played on his phone while George finished dinner; only realizing it
was done when he smelt it, his stomach rumbling.
George chuckled, setting a plate with two grilled cheese on the table, a bowl
of soup beside it. “Time to sit in a chair, baby.”
Alexander huffed, but complied with his wishes, plopping himself haphazardly
down.
He waited until George was seated beside him, before he began eating quickly,
barely noticing the moment the man got up and got him a glass of water, telling
him to take a breath between bites.
Alexander gave him an apologetic smile, taking a second to breathe before
attacking his food again.
…
 
Alexander finished long before George did, sated and full, and he stood to take
his dishes to the sink.
“I’ll put them in the washer once I’m done eating,” George told him, finishing
off his second sandwich and beginning to eat spoonfuls of soup. “You wanna just
sit around until I’m done?”
Alexander shrugged, climbing back up onto the table and watching him. He could
see his phone over on the coffee table, and he vaguely wondered if he should go
get it, but decided against it, kicking his feet again.
George chuckled, finishing his soup a few minutes later, downing the rest of
his water and standing, gathering his own plates and carrying them to the
dishwasher, adding Alexander’s along with them.
He came back a few seconds later, the sounds of the washer and the television
intermingling.
“Come here,” George murmured, leaning against the counter opposite of
Alexander.
Alexander hummed quietly, carefully climbing down off the table and walking
towards him, quickly being enveloped in George’s arms, his face pressed into
the man’s chest.
“You okay?” Alexander asked softly, wrapping his own arms around him.
“Shh,” George murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Alexander’s hair, rocking
slightly in place.
Alexander grinned slightly. “Are you dancing to the music playing in your
head?”
George groaned. “I was,” he murmured. “You’re ruining it, though.”
“Sorry,” Alexander laughed, falling silent, eyes drifting shut.
…
They stood like that for a few more moments, before George relaxed his stance,
causing Alexander to look up at him with soft eyes. “Everything okay, big guy?”
he asked softly.
“Everything is fine,” George assured him, glancing out the window. Alexander
followed his gaze, looking out at the dark sky; the city lit up with street
lights and office lights.
“You cleaned off the window,” Alexander said quietly, blushing. “When?”
“After I got out of bed this morning,” George told him, taking his hand and
pulling him towards the window. “Easier than I thought it would be.”
The scene outside was truly breathtaking, the way the lights seemed to
illuminate the falling snow.
Snow.
Alexander grinned, pulling away from George to run to the window himself. “It’s
snowing,” he whispered. “George, it’s snowing.”
He looked back, George grinning at him. “You like the snow?”
Alexander nodded, hands pressed against the cold glass. “When I was younger, I
lived on an island. Never saw much snow, it wasn’t a great place,” he frowned
slightly. “But I love watching the snow fall.”
George chuckled, walking up behind Alexander and wrapping his arms around his
waist. “It is beautiful,” he murmured.
“You are talking about the snow, right?” Alexander questioned, continuing to
watch the snow swirl with the wind, dancing around streetlights.
“Mostly,” George told him, kissing the top of his head. “I’m going to get you a
bath ready, you continue watching the snow.”
Alexander nodded. “Okay,” he murmured. “Wait,” he added quickly after. “You
have a bath in your restroom? I didn’t see one?”
George chuckled. “You must not have been paying good enough attention,” he
whispered, starting to walk away from him. “I’ll come get you when it’s done.”
Alexander hummed, looking at the office building across from him, blushing at
the memory of the man watching him, and he shook his head.
…
George appeared a little less than five minutes later, startling Alexander out
of his stupor, lightly pulling him towards the master bathroom.
“You gonna stay with me?” he asked quietly, looking at the bath. “Or you gonna
leave me?”
George guided him towards the bath. “Take off your sweats, baby,” he murmured.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Alexander mumbled, though he did as he was
told.
George chuckled. “I’ll sit with you, but I’m not getting in, I already took a
shower.”
Alexander huffed, but slowly climbed into the water, sighing at the warmth of
it, sinking low enough that his entire body was submerged, leaving only his
head out, and he closed his eyes.
“Don’t fall asleep in there,” George told him softly. “That wouldn’t be a good
thing.”
Alexander scoffed. "I’m not going to fall asleep.”
George chuckled, bringing out a cup – and where did he find it? – and began to
wet Alexander’s hair, combing his fingers through it.
…
The bath was over within half an hour, George having washed Alexander’s hair
and body, nothing sexual about it, however.
“If I could always have you wash me, I would be in heaven,” Alexander murmured
as George helped him out, wrapping a fluffy towel around him and his hair.
“I would do it if I could,” George told him, kissing his forehead.
Alexander smiled softly, grabbing his sweats from the floor, and he quickly
dried himself off before pulling them on, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to
a few spots that weren’t completely dried yet.
George chuckled. “Dry your hair off as best you can with your towel,” he told
him. “And then you can use the blow dryer. “
Alexander nodded, leaning over and shaking his hair out with the towel.
By the time he finished, George had already plugged in the dryer, holding it
out to Alexander.
…
Alexander made quick work of drying his hair, the thin strands laying flat on
his shoulders. “I should cut my hair,” he murmured, looking at it in the
mirror.
“I like it long,” George told him, standing behind Alexander, hands resting
lightly on his waist.
“I wouldn’t cut it very much,” Alexander told him. “Just a trim, get rid of the
split ends and whatever.”
George hummed, hugging him from behind for a second.
Alexander watched the man’s eyes close, a vision of serenity overcoming the
man’s features.
Alexander was about to question him again, but George’s eyes opened again, the
same calm look coming back onto his face. “Time for bed,” he murmured. “I’m
sure you still have some sleep you need to catch up on.”
On the verge of arguing, Alexander raised a hand as though to prove his point,
but a yawn made it’s way out of his mouth, ceasing all arguments.
“That’s what I thought,” George whispered, leading him towards the bedroom.
Alexander sat down slowly on the bed, struggling to keep his eyes opened,
though he would deny he was tired.
“Lay down,” George breathed, walking around to the other side and climbing
under the blanket. “Come here,” his arms were opened, and Alexander quickly
crawled over to him, curling up in his arms.
“Goodnight, Alexander,” George whispered.
“G’night, George,” Alexander sighed, closing his eyes and drifting under.
Chapter End Notes
     Guess who's sick.
     Trick question, it's me.
     Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this one, I liked writing it from my sick
     bed. :/ << How I currently feel.
     Oh, and I finally made that Tumblr I talked about a few chapters ago,
     and you can find it here >> https://underaspark.tumblr.com/
     Ask me any questions, leave me any comments, ya know, do your worst.
     I've only got one post up right now, sooooo, yeah.
     I may not have another chapter up tomorrow, I'll be studying and
     hopefully getting over this stupid sickness.
     So, until next time, mwah.
     See you then. <3
***** Chapter Eighteen *****
Chapter Summary
     George wasn’t prepared for what he found as he walked into his
     apartment.
     The noises hit him first, short gasps and muffled moans.
     He raised an eyebrow, walking through to the kitchen, looking for his
     boy there first.
     He wasn’t there, and it was obvious where the sounds were coming
     from.
     His gaze fell on the living room, where his boy had his own vibrator
     suctioned to the ground, staring out the window as he rode it.
     And he was a sight to behold. Truly.
Chapter Notes
     Here you go, another chapter.
     I'm still sick, so yeah.
     I wrote the majority of this while in a car, so there's that.
     Also, there's porn in this.
     So yeah.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
His boy was at peace. It was a rare moment for him to be silent, not to be
arguing or stating his own opinion.
But when he slept? Everything was quiet. He’d make soft noises, of course,
murmured words into the darkness, but nothing loud enough to really make sense.
He reminded George of a kitten when he slept, curled into a small ball, pressed
up against Washington’s chest.
He was precious. He would probably kill George if he told him that, or deny as
much as he could. But he was.
One of his hands was gripping onto George’s shirt, as though if he let go he
would wake up without George beside him. His lips were slightly open, and on
occasion he would sniffle quietly, his face contorting in almost disgust,
before returning to peace.
George wondered for a second if this was just a novelty to his boy. If it would
wear off as soon as he was back at his own house.
He shook that thought away, tightening his hold on Alexander, his boy mumbling
at the movement, before falling silent again, and Washington began to drift
off.
…
George woke to the smell of coffee filling his nose, along with what smelled
like bacon.
He frowned, the other side of the bed cold, though he could hear the sound of
his boy moving around in the kitchen, singing along to nothing.
George rolled over, stretching his arms over his head, before standing up and
slowly making his way to the kitchen.
He stood silently against the wall at the end of the hallway, a perfect view of
his boy without having him see him automatically.
Alexander was still dressed only in his gray sweats, his phone stuck in the
waistband of them, headphones jutting out from the bottom of it. That made
sense. He must be listening to music, making it easy for him to get caught up
in his singing.
There was a fresh pot of coffee on the counter, a glass already set aside, and
his boy would occasionally take a small drink from it.
He was dancing along to his music, small moves as though he was trying to
refrain from it, but his body had other ideas.
A plate of bacon sat beside the coffee maker, along with a plate stacked with
pancakes, a smaller plate of sausage beside that.
Currently, Alexander was making eggs, obviously making them in the grease left
over from the bacon, jumping back with muttered curse words as it popped at
him, though he quickly got back to work. Within minutes he had a plate of
scrambled eggs and three over easy.
“Didn’t know you cooked,” George made himself known, smiling softly at his boy.
Alexander jumped, shutting off the stove quickly, turning to face George,
trying to casually take out his headphones, sitting them and his phone on the
table.
“You had all the stuff, I just thought I could make breakfast,” he murmured,
looking sheepishly down at his feet.
George chuckled, walking towards him and wrapping his arms around his boy’s
smaller build, kissing the top of his head. “I love it,” he murmured. “Thank
you.”
Alexander wrapped his own arms around George, pressing his face into his chest,
and Washington could feel his smile there.
George stayed there for a second, before pulling back, looking at the
arrangement of food. “So, what’s all for me?” he asked with a grin.
Alexander’s smile was still on his face, and George had the corny thought that
it lit up the room. “Well,” he told him, turning around. “There are six
pancakes, so three each. Four pieces of sausage each, and you can get as much
bacon as you want. And I thought you might like your eggs over easy,” he
trailed off, looking up for approval.
“I do,” George affirmed, giving him a small smile.
His boy nodded, looking away again. “Then there are three eggs for you, and I
have scrambled for me. And there’s already toast on the table,” he added,
pointing towards a plate that George hadn’t noticed yet.
George smiled, moving slowly, grabbing out two plates – the only things
Alexander hadn’t thought to grab – and began making his own platter, dodging
the wandering arms of his boy.
…
It was midway through breakfast before either one of them spoke, both seemingly
comfortable with the silence that had fallen over them.
That was before George noticed his boy staring at him. They were mostly brief
glances, though a few lingered on him.
“Is there a reason you keep looking up at me?” George questioned, looking up
and raising an eyebrow at him.
Alexander gave him a slightly bashful smiled, looking back at his food. “Does
it taste okay?” he mumbled, barely audible.
George furrowed his eyebrows, leaning forward. “What did you say?” he
questioned.
Alexander sighed, raising his head to look at him. “Does the food taste okay?”
he asked, looking hopeful, but at the same time almost nervous.
George smiled, reaching across the table and taking Alexander’s free hand in
his own. “It tastes great, baby,” he told him. “Better than most food I eat.”
Alexander grinned, bobbing a little in his seat. “Good,” he murmured, going
back to eating his own food.
…
George finished his food first this time, standing up and depositing his dirty
dishes in the dishwasher, before walking up behind Alexander, resting his hands
on his boy’s shoulders.
Alexander leaned back into his touch, letting out a soft sigh. George chuckled,
leaning down and kissing the top of his head.
“I’m gonna run downstairs and get my mail,” he whispered in his boy’s ear.
“I’ll be right back.”
Alexander whined, tilting his head to look up at him. “Why can’t you just stay
here?” he mumbled, pouting his lips.
George chuckled, pecking his lips. “I’ll be back in ten minutes, tops,” he told
him quietly.
His boy huffed, but nodded. “Fine, but don’t be long,” he told him, though he
caught a glint in his eyes, something mischievous was hiding there.
George ignored it, though, shaking his head with a small smile on his face and
began walking to the elevator door, toeing on his shoes along the way.
“Be good,” he called as he climbed onto the elevator.
…
The ride was long, or at least he thought it was long, already growing used to
riding it with Alexander.
By the time he reached the bottom, he was already ready to go back, tapping his
foot on the floor.
The concierge – David? – was doing the crossword, barely looking up as he
approached.
“Mailbox 1,” George told him, tapping his fingers on the front desk.
David looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “If it isn’t the man of the hour,”
he said sarcastically, turning his chair around to get into his box. “Justin,”
George had to take a minute to remember he was the doorman. “He keeps asking me
if I know who the, and I’m quoting him here, who the ‘pretty little boy’ that
you’ve carted back and forth through here is.”
George grumbled under his breath, turning towards the doors and glaring,
catching Justin’s eyes for a few seconds before looking back at David. “You
tell Justin to mind his own damn business,” he told him, taking the mail from
him and rifling through it. “I could get him fired in a second, so he’d better
watch it.”
David laughed, shaking his head a few times. “I’ll pass the message on to him,
big guy,” he said teasingly. “Go get it on with your pretty little thing.”
“You’re almost as bad as him,” George grumbled, laughing and shaking his head.
“Throw these out for me,” he added, putting a small stack of junk mail on the
counter before turning and walking back towards the elevator.
“Get it on!” was the last thing he heard as the elevator doors shut.
…
George wasn’t prepared for what he found as he walked into his apartment.
The noises hit him first, short gasps and muffled moans.
He raised an eyebrow, walking through to the kitchen, looking for his boy there
first.
He wasn’t there, and it was obvious where the sounds were coming from.
His gaze fell on the living room, where his boy had his own vibrator suctioned
to the ground, staring out the window as he rode it.
And he was a sight to behold. Truly.
“Alexander,” George said softly, his voice almost betraying how turned on he
was getting. “I didn’t think that had a suction cup on it.”
He walked up behind him, kneeling down, pulling him back flush against his
chest.
Alexander tilted his head to look back at him. “It was in the box,” he
whispered breathily. “Screwed on,” he added.
George hummed, pressing a quick kiss to his boy’s lips, before standing and
moving away from him.
Alexander whined, trying to twist to watch him go, though the movement wretched
a moan from his throat.
“Keep going, baby girl,” George told him, moving a chair from the table so that
he could sit and watch his boy. “Fuck yourself on it since you just couldn’t
wait for me to get back.”
His boy watched him, as though he was trying to decide if he was serious or
not. “Daddy,” he whispered, reaching out towards him.
George shook his head. “No, I’m not going to help you at all,” he told him.
“You’re the one who started without me, so you get to finish without me too.”
Alexander frowned, dropping his hands again, though he reached beside him,
holding something out to George.
It was the remote, turned onto the lowest setting, and his boy was offering it
up to him.
George smiled slightly, taking it from him, toying with it for a second. “Get
to work, and don’t touch yourself,” he told him simply.
Alexander bit his lip, but lifted himself up, dropping back down. “And baby,”
George murmured, causing Alexander’s head to snap towards him.
“Yes, Daddy?” he asked softly.
“Don’t be quiet.”
That seemed to be all his boy needed, before moans and stuttered gasps were
falling from his lips.
He was riding it like it was all he ever needed. Like he was lost in the desert
and this was his water.
And he was a sight to behold.
That thought was bouncing through his head, and it was true. It was so true.
Alexander’s head was thrown back; blush spreading from his cheeks down to his
chest. His hands were on the ground, helping him push himself up. His legs were
bent underneath him, toes curled in what looked like an almost painful way.
His cock was dripping, moving every time he moved. Up. Down.
It looked almost painful with how hard it was, and for a second George debated
on moving forward and stroking him off, but no, he told him he had to do it
himself. And George was nothing if not a man of his word.
He debated on turning up the settings but knew if he did, that would send his
boy over the edge quicker than he wanted him to. He did turn it up a small bit,
barely noticeable.
“Look so pretty, baby girl,” George murmured from where he sat. “Bouncing on
it. Look like you were made for it. Bet you wish it was me you were riding.”
Alexander nodded quicker. “Want you, daddy, please,” his boy was begging,
little words dripping from his lips, a few getting cut off in the end.
“You gonna come for me, pretty boy?” George asked softly, moving a bit closer,
running his fingers through his boy’s hair.
The sound that fell from his lips was a prize, one that should be documented
for years to come.
And then he was coming, untouched.
His eyes were hooded, and he continued to ride the toy until he was done. He
pulled himself off slowly, and George shut it off with a single press on the
button.
He expected his boy to collapse into a heap on the floor, but he didn’t expect
him to slowly crawl over, positioning himself in between George’s legs.
George raised an eyebrow at him. “What’re you doing, baby?” he asked him
softly.
Alexander bit his lip, raising his hand slowly and grabbing at the waist of
George’s pants.
“Wanna make you feel good, daddy,” his boy told him, his voice heavy with lust.
George raised himself slightly, letting his boy pull off his sweats, letting
them pool down at his ankles.
Alexander raised a hand, slowly stroking George’s cock, hard only from watching
his boy.
He leaned forward, wrapping his lips around him, already beginning to bob.
George reached a hand out, moving to take his hair into his fist, but Alexander
pulled back, shaking his head.
“No daddy,” he told him softly. “I’m going to make you feel good, you just sit
back, enjoy this.”
George let out a low moan, but he dropped his hands back to his sides, watching
his boy go back to work again.
His lips were stretched, looking almost uncomfortable, around George’s cock,
his tongue tracing the underside of it, following a vein there. And it only
took a few expert flicks of his tongue before George was coming down his
throat.
And Alexander held his position until George was completely done, pulling off
with a sated and happy grin on his face.
“Did I do good?” he asked softly, looking hopefully up at him.
George grinned down at him. “Of course you did good,” he whispered. “Help me
pull my pants back up,” he added.
Just as quickly as he had said it, Alexander was pulling his sweats back over
his legs, before climbing into his lap and curling up there.
“So good, baby,” George murmured, wrapping his arms around Alexander and moving
to stand, walking towards the master bedroom.
“Gonna lay you down, okay?” he asked quietly, already moving towards the bed.
His boy’s hold on him tightened, and he shook his head quickly. “Don’t leave,”
he whispered.
George sighed, walking to his own side of the bed and carefully sitting down,
laying Alexander down first and crawling in after him. His boy sleepily rolled
over, kissing George as best as he could.
George laughed softly, wrapping his arms around Alexander again, kissing his
forehead and beginning to run his fingers through Alexander’s hair. “Go to
sleep my darling,” he whispered.
“You’ll wake me up soon, right?” Alexander asked, already groggy.
“Of course,” George told him, humming softly. “Go to sleep.”
Alexander nodded slowly, eyes closing fully as he drifted off to sleep.
Chapter End Notes
     Hope you enjoyed this.
     Follow me on this Tumblr >> https://underaspark.tumblr.com/
     Ask any questions you have or give me any suggestions of what you
     would want to see me add in here, I'd love to have your guys'
     opinions.
     Also, this story is probably going to be roughly 5 or so more
     chapters, ending about where Alexander goes back to his foster
     parents' house.
     However, I will make this a series and will add on certain events.
     I'm thinking for sure his birthday and graduation. ;)
***** Chapter Nineteen *****
Chapter Summary
     And then the façade broke, and George’s face seemed to soften a bit,
     before he lifted Alexander up into his arms and sat down on the bed,
     rocking him slightly. “Oh, Alex,” he whispered, stroking through his
     hair.
Chapter Notes
     Get ready for a feels trip.
     Love ya.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Alexander startled awake, stumbling out of a dream.
He couldn’t remember the dream as he woke up, but he could feel the lingering
effects of a nightmare.
His heart was jackhammering in his chest, and his eyes darted around the room.
He was alone. That much was obvious. And he had sweats on. The other ones they
had gotten. He could hear George talking somewhere outside the room.
“No, I understand that,” he sounded like he was arguing with someone. “I
understand that it’s Christmas Eve, Martha,” ex-wife, Alexander’s mind
supplied. “I have plans Christmas Eve. I’ll try to make it Christmas day, okay?
Yeah, I miss you too. Goodbye, Martha.”
Alexander was freaking out more than he should. George was just on the phone,
besides, it wasn’t like he was getting back together with his ex.
Right?
It was really a crazy thought, he had already told Alexander what had happened
between them.
Alexander’s head was spinning, and he sat on the edge of the bed, holding his
head in his hands.
“He has plans Christmas Eve,” Alexander whispered to himself. “I’m his plans.”
He could hear George walking back towards the room, and he willed his heartbeat
to slow down. “Act normal,” he muttered, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Oh, you’re up,” how was he already at the door? “I was just coming to wake
you.”
There was a long pause; at least, it seemed like a long one to Alexander.
“Alex?” his voice was closer now, though it sounded like it was being said
underwater, the sound muffled.
“Baby?” his hands were on Alexander’s shoulders now, holding him in place.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay? Talk to me.”
Alexander shook his head quickly, eyes still shut tightly.
One of George’s hands was under Alexander’s chin, moving it up. “Look at me,
Alex,” he whispered.
Alexander pried his eyes open, knew automatically that they were glassy; both
from sleep and unshed tears.
George’s thumb was lightly stroking his cheek, trying to calm him down. “What
happened?”
Alexander swallowed thickly. “Do you want me to go?” he asked quietly. “So you
can make it for Christmas Eve? I understand, but I need to know now, I’m used
to people wanting me gone, I just thought-“ he broke off, shaking his head
again. “I thought you actually liked having me here,” he finished.
“You heard my phone call,” it wasn’t accusatory, just a statement. George was
staring down at him, and Alexander couldn’t tell if it was with worry or anger,
his face giving nothing away.
And then the façade broke, and George’s face seemed to soften a bit, before he
lifted Alexander up into his arms and sat down on the bed, rocking him
slightly. “Oh, Alex,” he whispered, stroking through his hair.
“I need to know,” Alexander whispered again, a choked out sob following after
it.
George shushed him, kissing the top of his head. “Breathe, Alexander,” he
whispered something that Alexander himself seemed to have forgotten how to do.
He heaved in a shaky breath, though it barely made it to his lips.
“I want you here,” George was whispering, still rocking Alexander, a tight grip
around him. “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to go to Christmas with my
ex,” he told him quietly. “I would’ve made up an excuse no matter what, she
knows that she only invites me out of politeness. I’d rather be with you here.”
Alexander curled closer to him, a bad idea in reality; it caused him more
trouble in breathing. “You said you missed her,” he whispered into George’s
shirt.
George sighed, rubbing Alexander’s arm. “Baby,” he whispered. “Not like that. I
promise you, we’re still friends. But I don’t miss being married to her.”
Alexander took another shaky breath, trying to calm himself down before he made
a bigger fool of himself than he already had. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.
George shushed him, running his fingers through Alexander’s hair. “Shh, baby,”
he whispered. “It’s okay.”
“It isn’t,” Alexander sobbed, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have freaked out.
I shouldn’t have listened to your conversation. I’m sorry.”
They were moving again, George laying back onto the bed, slowly as to not
jostle the boy too much. The hand was still stroking his hair. “Go back to
sleep,” he was speaking softly.
Alexander tried to work up some kind of an argument, but he was still tired and
crying always made him more so. After a few more hiccupped sobs, he was asleep
against George’s chest.
…
When Alexander woke up, he had a few minutes of blissful ignorance, forgetting
what had happened a few hours before.
And then it hit him.
He tensed up, hands tightening where they were holding onto George’s shirt.
And George noticed because of course, he did.
“You’re awake this time?” he asked quietly, and Alexander furrowed his
eyebrows, not moving his head from where his face was pressed into the man’s
chest.
“This time?” Alexander questioned.
George sighed softly, lifting Alexander’s face so he had no choice but to look
at him. “You were talking in your sleep,” he whispered. “You were crying too.
What were you dreaming about?”
Biting his lip, Alexander tried to think back, though no memories of his dream
surfaced. “What did I say?”
George seemed to take a minute, as though he was trying to think of a way to
say it. “You were begging someone not to leave you.”
 
“Oh,” Alexander whispered. “Sorry, I have nightmares sometimes. Normally only
when I’m alone.”
“You felt like you were alone,” George interjected quickly. “I understand. With
what happened earlier, I understand.”
Alexander swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry, about what happened.”
George shook his head. “Don’t be. You had just woken up, you misinterpreted
information. It could happen to anyone.”
“I should’ve talked to you first,” Alexander whispered. “I had a nightmare, and
I woke up alone, and it just… I have separation anxiety. Everyone I love,” he
shook his head slightly. “I mean, everyone I care for, they leave or die or…
I’m sorry.”
George shushed him, kissing his forehead. “I understand, Alexander. I lo- care
for you too.”
Alexander stared at him for a few seconds, trying to figure out if he was lying
or not, and when he saw no signs of a lie, he sighed, curling up against him.
“I’ll ask next time. Try to figure everything out first before I make
assumptions.”
George grinned, tilting Alexander’s chin up more to kiss him on his lips, a
soft kiss, and full of promise. “I’m sure you’re hungry, baby,” he murmured.
“Let’s go get you some food.”
Alexander nodded, moving to stand, though an arm stopped him, wrapping around
his waist. “I got you.”
He looked up in confusion, though George shook his head, standing up and
grabbing Alexander, pulling him up along with him.
Alexander was ready to put his feet on the ground, before he was lifted up,
wrapped in George’s arms. “I said I got you,” he repeated, carrying him out to
the kitchen.
Alexander allowed himself a quiet laugh at that, shaking his head, wrapping his
arms around George’s neck.
George carried him to the couch sitting him down carefully. “I’m going to call
down to the front desk, have them order some pizza for us.”
He walked into the kitchen, taking a phone off the wall; Alexander hadn’t seen
it before, almost hidden from sight.
The phone only seemed to ring a few times before George chuckled. “Ah yes,
David, great. Can you order me some pizza…? Yes for two… Yes, he’s still here….
No, I don’t want you to call security…. Yes, I’m sure… Thank you.”
Alexander was looking up over the couch now, watching George with careful eyes.
“They know about me?” he asked quietly.
George chuckled. “They call you my ‘pretty little boy’,” he told him.
Alexander blushed ducking his head slightly. “I’m not pretty,” he mumbled.
George grinned, walking over and sitting down on the couch beside him, pulling
him into his lap. “You are,” he told him. “Pretty. Gorgeous. Beautiful.”
The blush spread down Alexander’s chest, and he tried to cover up.
George shook his head, pulling his arms away. “You’re beautiful, baby,” he
whispered. “I love it about you. I love you.”
Alexander sucked in a breath, staring at him with wide eyes. George didn’t seem
to notice what he had said, or at least he didn’t care.
“What?” Alexander asked softly.
“I love it about you,” George told him. “And I think there might be a chance I
love you, too.”
Alexander bit his lip, hiding his face in the crook of George’s neck. “I think
I might love you too,” he whispered, barely audible.
“You don’t have to say it just because I did,” George murmured, starting to
comb through his hair. “You need to know that.”
Alexander leaned back, grinning down at him. “I know,” he told him, leaning in
and kissing him softly. “I mean it.”
…
Twenty minutes later there was a sound of a bell going off, causing Alexander
to jump back from where he was plastered against George’s chest.
“That would be the pizza,” George whispered, groaning slightly. “I’ll tell them
to bring it up.”
Alexander whined, trying to press himself close again, grinding his hips down.
“We’ll finish this once you eat,” George told him.
Following a huff, George picked Alexander up, setting him back down, and
Alexander watched his eyes travel over his chest, hickey and bite marks marring
the skin there.
Alexander flushed pink under his gaze, shaking his head at him.
George grinned, walking to the phone and calling down, telling David? to send
the pizza up, groaning after he said something back to him. “Yeah, yeah,
whatever, send the imbecile up. Pay for me, would you.”
George chuckled, obviously at something being said on the other line, before
hanging up the phone.
“Who’s bringing it up?” Alexander questioned, watching George walk back.
“Doorman,” George answered simply, running his fingers over one of the hickeys
on Alexander’s throat. Alexander tilted his head slightly, baring it for him.
The elevator dinged then, opening to the floor. George stood from his spot,
winking at Alexander before walking to greet the doorman, taking the pizza from
him.
The man’s eyes wandered around the room, before settling on Alexander, causing
him to sneer a bit and sink into the couch.
George followed his gaze, before pushing him back into the elevator. “Good
day,” he muttered as the doors closed.
“Hungry?”
Chapter End Notes
     As always, follow me on Tumblr >>> https://underaspark.tumblr.com/
     I give pretty good updates on when a new chapter will be posted.
     Also, this is almost over, only a few more chapters.
     I'm gonna make it a series, and I need ideas of what to name the
     series, so if you could comment an idea or something like that, that
     would be marvelous.
     Mwah
***** Chapter Twenty *****
Chapter Summary
     “Cliché,” Alexander mumbled, watching as ‘Titanic’ lit up on the
     screen. And of course, it was just beginning.
     “Excuse you,” George laughed. “I happen to like this movie.”
     Alexander groaned. “It’s depressing. They meet and then Jack fucking-
     “ he cut himself off, eyes growing wide as he looked over at George,
     who was raising an eyebrow at him.
     “What was that?” he questioned, his gaze almost menacing.
     Alexander swallowed thickly. “I mean- uh- they meet and Jack dies,”
     he whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Chapter Notes
     NEW CHAPTER.
     Sorry, I'm excited.
     I'm happy to have finished this, hope you're happy to read it.
     Enjoy.
     Porn awaits.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Alexander stood from his spot on the couch, beginning to move to the kitchen,
though he was stopped by George, who met him halfway and spun him back around.
“Just this once,” George was saying. “We’ll eat in the living room,” he pushed
Alexander back down onto the couch. “And we’ll turn on a movie.”
Alexander looked up at him skeptically, but shrugged, curling his legs up
underneath himself, waiting for George to walk back to the kitchen and return
with a couple plates, handing one to Alexander and keeping one for himself.
George was humming softly to himself, and if Alexander listened close enough,
he was able to make out a pattern to it, though he didn’t know for sure.
He was so busy focusing on the sound, he didn’t notice when it had stopped.
He was startled out of his thoughts when a hand landed on his thigh. It was a
solid pressure there; he could feel the heat from George’s palm sinking through
his sweats.
“Huh?” Alexander questioned, raising his head to look up at him, blinking
slightly. “Did you ask me something?”
George laughed softly, nodding his head. “I asked if you were going to get some
pizza or just continue to stare at the box?”
Alexander gave a slightly bashful smile, reaching out to grab a couple pieces
and put them on his plate.
George grinned over at him, shaking his head a bit, before he began eating his
own, turning the television on.
“Cliché,” Alexander mumbled, watching as ‘Titanic’ lit up on the screen. And of
course, it was just beginning.
“Excuse you,” George laughed. “I happen to like this movie.”
Alexander groaned. “It’s depressing. They meet and then Jack fucking-“ he cut
himself off, eyes growing wide as he looked over at George, who was raising an
eyebrow at him.
“What was that?” he questioned, his gaze almost menacing.
Alexander swallowed thickly. “I mean- uh- they meet and Jack dies,” he
whispered. “I’m sorry.”
George’s face was telling Alexander everything he needed to know. He was
screwed.
Both mentally and physically, most likely.
He stood up slowly, pushing himself off of George’s lap. He tried to move
around one of the chairs, but quickly felt himself being grabbed from behind,
pushed into the window. There was a heavy blanket of snow over everything, and
he could see people in the office building across from them, going about their
day.
His eyes were drawn to one window, in particular, the man in there sitting at
his desk, typing away at something.
George pulled him back, Alexander’s back flush with his chest. “Where do you
think you’re going to?” he asked lowly, his breath brushing over Alexander’s
ear.
Alexander tried to act innocently, looking up at him through his eyelashes. “I
only wanted to look out the window,” he told him softly.
The man had looked back at them, he was standing up from his desk, head tilted
slightly to the side.
“You like the view?” George questioned. “Is that it?”
Alexander nodded quickly. “The view,” he whispered.
George hummed, one of his arms wrapped around Alexander’s waist, the other hand
trailing lightly over his chest. “Or is it that you like being the view?” he
asked.
Alexander swallowed slightly, watching the man. He was focused on them with
dirty curiosity.
He blushed, either from George’s question or the man watching.
“Answer my question,” George whispered in his ear. Alexander could easily pick
up on the deep sound of lust in his voice, though it was obvious with his
erection pressing against Alexander’s back.
“I like being the view,” Alexander murmured, voice coming out as an almost
squeak, George’s hand traveling dangerously low, Alexander’s sweats tenting
embarrassingly.
George chuckled darkly, dropping his hands for a moment; Alexander could hear
him pull the chair towards them.
He was being pulled back, into George’s lap. “I think you need to be
disciplined for what you said,” George was saying. “You know not to speak like
that. I told you not to.”
“I’m sorry,” Alexander said again, even as he was manhandled to the point that
he was laid over George’s thighs.
The man in the other building was sitting now, his chair facing his window, his
elbows resting lightly on his knees.
George was massaging Alexander’s ass through his sweats, squeezing tightly.
“I think I need these to come off,” George murmured, grabbing the top of the
pants, beginning to pull them down. He only pulled them off enough to uncover
his ass, his cock still stuck in the confines. He was humming softly to
himself, spreading his ass cheeks, one finger teasing as his hole.
Alexander moaned, trying to push back.
“No,” George told him, patting his ass lightly. “Not yet.”
“What’s my punishment?” Alexander asked softly.
“Ten swats,” George answered immediately. “You have to count. And you’ll thank
me after every one of them.”
Alexander bit his lip, trying to formulate a response when the first hit came
down. It surprised him, a choked off gasp breaking through. George’s hand was
large enough to cover nearly the entirety of his ass, evenly distributing the
pain.
“What do you say?” George questioned, using his hand to massage the area, heat
radiating from it.
“One,” Alexander managed to get out. “Thank you.”
“Thank you, who?” George asked him, fingers dancing over the tender skin.
“Daddy,” Alexander said quickly. “Thank you, daddy.”
“Good boy,” George murmured, bringing his hand down again, lower this time,
touching the tops of his thighs.
“Two, thank you, daddy,” Alexander said around a sob.
The next hits came down hard, and by seven, Alexander was a mess on George’s
lap, trying to squirm away from him.
“Three more, baby girl,” George said soothingly, large hand splayed over what
Alexander could only assume was an incredibly red section of skin.
Alexander tried to nod, trying to relax. The last three hits came down in quick
succession, barely a second in between them.
“Eight, nine, ten,” Alexander was openly sobbing by now. “Th-thank you, daddy,”
he whispered.
George moved, standing up, holding Alexander against his chest. Alexander was
achingly hard in his sweats by this point. “Oh, baby,” George whispered,
sliding his thigh in between Alexander’s legs.
Alexander rutted against him, still sobbing lightly. “Daddy, daddy,” he
murmured, holding onto him, trying to keep himself upright.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” George asked quietly. “Let you ride me? Really
give our audience a show?”
Alexander turned his head, catching sight of the man in the other building, his
hand down his dress pants. Alexander had a second to wonder what work he did.
“Baby?” George questioned.
Alexander nodded, looking up at him. “Yes, please,” he murmured.
George hummed. “Where’d you leave the lube, baby?” he asked softly, kissing the
top of Alexander’s head.
Alexander looked up, pointing towards the coffee table. “There,” he whispered.
George lifted Alexander’s chin up, using his thumb to wipe one of his tears.
“I’m gonna go get it,” he murmured. “Stay right here. Stay upright.”
Alexander nodded again, forcing himself to stay up while George went to grab
the bottle. He was back in a second, arms wrapped around Alexander again. “How
do you want to do this? How do you want me to stretch you?”
“Sit down,” Alexander told him softly, voice catching.
George did as he was told, sitting down carefully. Alexander moved to straddle
him, knees pressed into the cushion on either side of George. He buried his
face into George’s neck. “Like this,” he murmured.
George hummed, popping open the lube bottle.
It was only a few seconds before a slick finger was teasing at his hole,
circling around before pushing in. Slowly, slowly.
Alexander moaned, moving away for a second, before trying to press back. George
chuckled, working the finger in and out a few times, slowly adding another one,
and another one until he was up to three. Stretching and twisting.
“I’m ready,” Alexander whispered. “I’m ready for you daddy, please.”
George shushed him, crooking his fingers just the right way, hitting
Alexander’s prostate head on, ripping a moan from the boy. “There it is,” he
murmured, kissing the side of Alexander’s head. “Okay, baby,” he added, pulling
his fingers out. “You want to turn around?”
Alexander nodded, carefully lifting himself up. He caught sight of George
stroking himself, his pants bunched up around his thighs. “Take them off?”
Alexander asked quietly, standing on shaky legs.
George hummed, pushing his pants the rest of the way off, kicking them away
from him. “Come here, baby.”
Alexander took a careful step forward, turning around. George’s hands appeared
on his waist, pulling him back slowly. Only a second later, he could feel
George’s cock nudging at his entrance, and he let out a low moan, sinking down
on it in a fluid motion.
Alexander dropped his head onto George’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut. George’s
arms were wrapped around him, rubbing soothingly on his stomach.
George let him have his moment to get adjusted, kissing lightly at his
shoulder, occasionally sucking and biting.
Alexander made the first movement, barely lifting his hips up, pushing back
down, letting out a soft gasp, intermingling with a moan.
George moaned against his skin. “God baby. You’re so tight, so warm. You feel
so good.”
Alexander moved his hips in a slow circle, grinding down. “Baby girl,” George
whispered.
Alexander began moving in earnest, lifting himself up, dropping himself down,
squeezing down on George’s cock.
“Look, baby,” George whispered, voice gravelly. “Look how much he’s loving
you.”
Alexander raised his head, focusing on the office building. The man was
stroking himself off, eyes locked on them.
“Oh,” Alexander whispered, unconsciously speeding up.
“You close baby?” George asked softly, squeezing Alexander’s waist.
“Yes, daddy,” Alexander said quickly. “So close.”
George chuckled, bringing one of his hands up, starting to stroke Alexander in
time with how he was bouncing.
It was less than a minute later when Alexander was coming, most of it landing
on his stomach, some on George’s hand. He lifted it up, bringing it to
Alexander’s lips, which he wrapped around them, cleaning his own cum off them,
suckling like a baby.
And he kept bouncing, working George up to the point of his own orgasm, and
working him through it. He only stopped when the fingers were pulled from his
mouth, letting himself relax against George’s chest.
“Did so good, baby,” George was whispering. “You want a nap now?”
Alexander nodded, moving off George’s cock, could feel his cum dripping out,
mixing with lube. He moaned at the feeling of it, could feel his hole working
to try and keep it in.
George laughed, picking him up and pressing two fingers back in, holding the
rest of his cum in. “We’ll put your plug in,” he murmured.
Alexander nodded slowly, letting himself be held. He didn’t glance back out the
window, burying his face instead into the crook of his neck.
They reached the bedroom only a few seconds later, George sat him down without
moving his fingers, before they were quickly replace with the plug, turned off.
George disappeared, causing Alexander to whine softly, eyes barely able to stay
open. He was back in a second, a wet rag in hand, and he began to clean up the
mess between Alexander’s legs.
He crawled in behind him, rolling him over, wrapping his arms around Alexander.
“Go to sleep,” he murmured, kissing his forehead.
Alexander nodded, gave him a slurred affirmation, and sank into darkness.
Chapter End Notes
     Hope you enjoyed it.
     Follow me on Tumblr >>> https://underaspark.tumblr.com/
     I give updates pretty well.
     Also, special thanks to Marauder_Girl for giving me an idea of what
     to name this series, it has been deemed 'How Lucky We Are'
     Peace.
***** Chapter Twenty-One *****
Chapter Summary
     George followed his eyes, raising an eyebrow. “Is there something
     over there that you want?”
     Alexander nodded, struggling for the first time in his life to find
     the words to describe what he wanted.
     “I want me, on that desk, bent over for you,” he settled on. “I want
     you to screw me on it, leave me with nothing to hold onto, grasping
     for the edge of it. I want the papers to fly off, I want bruises left
     on my waist from the edge of it, adding to the ones I’ve already got
     there.”
Chapter Notes
     Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays.
     Finally got some wifi after got knows how long I've been without it.
     (Okay, so like two or three days but still)
     Also, remember earlier in the story I mentioned a desk?
     Yeah, it's so getting used in this chapter.
     Hard.
     Read on my darlings.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Alexander woke up slowly. George was lying beside him. There was a faint glow
of light coming in from the hallway.
“What time is it?” he asked groggily.
George jumped slightly, obviously startled by Alexander speaking. “Almost
five,” he murmured. “Surprised you’re already awake. Not unhappy that you
slept, though.”
“I’ve practically wasted two days,” he grumbled, trying to sit up, though
George only pulled him back down. “I only have two more and then I have to go
back to my foster home.”
“And then you’ll turn eighteen,” George murmured. “And you’ll graduate
seventeen days later. And I’m going to give you a graduation present.”
Alexander looked up at him. “What would it be?” he asked softly.
George only laughed. “You’ll just have to wait for it,” he told him.
Alexander groaned. “I don’t like waiting, I’m not patient.”
“Oh, believe me, I know,” George said sarcastically, kissing Alexander’s nose.
Pouting, Alexander moved back from him. “My nose,” he grumbled, covering it
with one of his hands.
George shook his head. “Why don’t we take your plug out,” he stated suddenly,
hand already moving to Alexander’s ass, working the plastic out in one smooth
stroke, leaving Alexander gasping, toes curled as he tried to relax again.
George grinned at him, one hand coming up to cup Alexander’s cheek, and he
leaned into it, closing his eyes and sighing.
They stayed like that for a few moments, before Alexander’s stomach ruined the
moment by making a low rumbling noise, only able to be heard because of how
silent they were.
George laughed softly, dropping his hand and moving to sit up, stretching his
arms over his head, Alexander tracked the movement with his eyes, curling up
more under the covers, happy and content in the warmth.
“Come on, baby,” George murmured, reaching to try and extract him from the
cocoon. “Let’s get some food into you. You can get back under the blankets
afterward.”
Alexander let out a high-pitched whine, shaking his head.
George sighed, standing up from the bed and walking towards the dresser.
Alexander watched his back as he moved, cocking his head to the side.
He returned a second later, holding a hoodie in his hand.
Alexander grinned, sitting up enough to take it from him, pulling it over
himself. He wasn’t wearing any pants, and as he stood up, he pulled it down a
bit.
He looked up at George, just in time to see his eyes rake up and down his
figure, causing him to turn red.
George’s eyes snapped up, locking with Alexander’s. “Let’s go get you food
before I decide we’re going back to bed instead.”
Alexander smirked. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”
Rolling his eyes, George stepped forward, hand coming to rest at the small of
Alexander’s back, pushing him towards the door. “Believe me, I know. You’re-
what’s the word?” he thought for a moment, before laughing. “Insatiable. That’s
it.”
Alexander grimaced. “I hate that word,” he grumbled. “It sounds gross. You
know, like how some people hate the word moist? That’s how I feel about that.”
George hummed, a suspicious sound in Alexander’s head, but he didn’t say
anything else, just leading Alexander.
“Hey, what happened to the pizza?” Alexander asked, looking towards the living
room, which was void of any of their plates and food.
George shrugged, lifting him up and sitting him on the counter. “I cleaned it
up while you were sleeping.”
Alexander nodded, looking around for a second. “Is that when you put on pants,
too?” he questioned, eyes coming to rest once again on George, feet kicking.
“That is,” George murmured, beginning to rifle through the fridge.
He emerged a minute later, two chicken breasts in his hand, a pensive look on
his face. He sat the package beside the sink, kneeling down and opening a
cabinet, revealing a sack of potatoes.
He tossed the potatoes into a pot, filling it with water and setting it on the
stove to boil. He covered the chicken with a plethora of spices and seasonings,
sticking it in the oven and setting the timer.
He checked everything once more, before turning and walking over to where
Alexander was perched, moving to stand between his legs.
Even with Alexander being on the table, George still stood taller than him,
nearly a head taller. He tilted Alexander’s head up, leaning down slightly to
kiss him softly.
Alexander smiled into the kiss, legs moving to wrap around George’s waist,
pulling him closer, as if that was even possible.
Alexander was the first one to pull away, arms wrapping around George, leaning
his head into the crook of his neck, happy to stay there for the rest of his
life.
Strong arms wrapped around him, holding him close.
They stayed like that, more or less completely silent, the only sounds coming
from them being their breathing.
They only broke apart at the sound of the water boiling, to which George let
out a less than pleased sigh, disentangling himself from Alexander’s hold,
moving to turn down the heat.
Alexander watched him closely, watching him open the oven and check on the
chicken, the smell filling the room.
He looked down at his legs, the hoodie had ridden up some, and he blushed as he
tried to pull it back down.
“Don’t,” Alexander jumped, head snapping up to look at George, who was looking
at him with intense eyes.
His blush deepened under the gaze, and he looked down again, watching George’s
feet as he took a few steps forward. He was back between Alexander’s thighs
again, his arms wrapping around the boy and hands landing on his ass, sneaking
under and lifting him up. Alexander had no choice but to wrap his legs around
George’s waist.
“We still have half an hour until the food will be ready,” George murmured,
carrying him towards the living room.
“What’re we going to do until then?” Alexander asked innocently.
…
The alarm going off startled Alexander, causing him to sit up from his
position, straddling George’s waist. The hoodie was rucked up to the bottom of
his ribs, his face flushed, lips bitten red, hair tangled.
George’s hand was wrapped around both their cocks, his own sweats pulled down
to his mid thigh.
His hand had stilled from where he had been stroking them both, and he laughed
lowly as he pulled his hand away.
Alexander shook his head quickly, trying to grind down. “Don’t stop,” he begged
softly. “Please don’t stop.”
George sighed, the hand that had previously been stroking them moving to cup
his ass instead, squeezing, nails biting into the skin there.
Alexander gasped, tensing up for a moment, falling back onto George’s chest.
“Get up, baby,” George murmured. “I need to take the food out before it all
burns.”
Alexander shook his head, face pressed into George’s neck, and he tried to
grind down again. “See how much I want you, daddy,” he whispered. “I can feel
how much you want me. Won’t you let me show you how good I can be for you?”
George chuckled. “I know how good you can be,” he told him. “You’ve shown me
how good you can be. Now be a good boy and let me up.”
Alexander whined, pressing closer to him. “No, daddy.”
George sighed, sitting up, holding Alexander in his lap. “Now, baby,” he told
him, using as stern a voice as he could manage.
Pouting, Alexander climbed off his lap, pulling the hoodie down again. “Mean,
daddy,” he grumbled.
George stood up, pulling his sweats back up, though they tented obviously.
“Maybe you should go put on some boxers,” he murmured. “Get a little more
comfortable.”
Alexander shook his head, grinning at the man. “I’m perfectly comfortable with
what I’m in,” he told him. “Why? Am I distracting you?”
George laughed, walking past Alexander and into the kitchen, making quick work
of taking out the chicken, taking the potatoes off the stove and emptying what
was left of the water, beginning to mash them, purposefully ignoring
Alexander’s question.
Alexander huffed, walking to the window to look out. The lights were being
turned on; an hour or so after the sun had already set. Though there was still
a sliver of light on the horizon.
The sounds in the kitchen ceased, and Alexander glanced over his shoulder to
look at George, who was making his way over to him.
Alexander grinned at him. “We’re the opposite,” he laughed. “You have pants on,
but no shirt. I have a shirt – well, a hoodie – but no pants.”
George raised an eyebrow, pulling him into his arms as soon as he reached him.
Alexander’s back flush to his chest. George rested his chin on the top of
Alexander’s head, chest rising and falling with even breaths.
Alexander could almost believe George was calm, but he could easily feel his
cock pressing against him.
Alexander grinned to himself, reaching a hand back, slipping it between them,
trying to stroke him off. George only made a tsking noise, pulling Alexander’s
arm out, grabbing both of his wrists in one hand, holding them against his
stomach.
“Naughty,” George murmured. “And so close to Christmas. You know what happens
to the naughty kids on Christmas?”
Alexander bit his lip, tilting his head to look up at him. “What happens to
them?” he questioned.
George laughed. “They don’t get their presents. Don’t you want yours?”
Alexander nodded, turning around, trailing his fingers over George’s chest.
“What is my present?” he asked him.
“That would ruin the surprise,” George said simply, pulling away from him and
walking back towards the kitchen. “Dinner is getting cold, come on.”
…
Alexander hated to admit that dinner was amazing. Hated to admit it, for the
only fact that he almost – almost – thought it was worth having to stop what
they had started.
But now they were done eating.
The clock over the oven was flashing 7:00, a steady beat, and Alexander
couldn’t help but stare as it changed to 7:01.
George was cleaning up the mess he had made while preparing dinner, humming
softly to himself. Alexander had tried to focus on the song, but he kept
getting distracted.
His distraction?
The way George’s back muscles moved as he cleaned. How he knew they would move
the same way if he was holding him. If he was fucking him.
They were very distracting.
And George, of course, seemed to have no idea how distracting he was.
He just kept going about his way cleaning.
And he was still hard. He was only in sweats, Alexander could still see. And
the mere thought of it almost killed Alexander.
He wanted to get ahold of George.
Scratch that.
He wanted George to ahold of him. He wanted him to grab him. Fuck him. Make him
scream.
He wanted. He wanted so much.
But he didn’t know how to voice his wants. So he sat still, sat on the counter,
kicked his feet a bit, and stayed silent. Silently plotting what to say.
Because, really, how do you tell someone that you want them to hold you down
and fuck you until you couldn’t remember your own name?
It was a problem.
…
The clock on the oven read 7:30 by the time George was finished cleaning.
Alexander was still lost in his own world, fantasies swirling around in his
mind.
He didn’t realize George had finished until he was standing right in front of
him, an almost knowing look on his face. As though he could read Alexander’s
thoughts.
George was lifting him up, and Alexander easily wrapped himself around him,
like he had been doing it his whole life.
“What were you thinking about, baby?” George questioned, walking towards the
master bedroom.
Alexander shrugged slightly. “Nothing,” he told him, catching a glimpse of
George’s desk out of the corner of his eyes, blushing slightly.
George followed his eyes, raising an eyebrow. “Is there something over there
that you want?”
Alexander nodded, struggling for the first time in his life to find the words
to describe what he wanted.
“I want me, on that desk, bent over for you,” he settled on. “I want you to
screw me on it, leave me with nothing to hold onto, grasping for the edge of
it. I want the papers to fly off, I want bruises left on my waist from the edge
of it, adding to the ones I’ve already got there.”
He was blushing fiercely now, his entire face burning.
George was looking at him intensely, he had stopped walking, and they were
standing in the middle of the room.
And then he was moving again, not towards the bed, but towards the desk, where
he unceremoniously dropped Alexander, turning away from him.
For a second Alexander was afraid he was going to leave, going to walk out the
door and not come back. But, while he did walk out, he came back a second
later, lube in hand, a dark look on his face.
“Turn over,” he said simply, walking to where Alexander was, moving the wooden
chair out of the way.
Alexander nodded quickly, moving the papers below him enough that he could
easily lay over the desk.
There were hands at his waist, pushing the hoodie up to his ribs, but not
taking it off.
He didn’t hear George uncap the lube, but within a second a cold finger was
pressing at his hole, not giving him a moment of warning before it was pushing
in.
Alexander let out a high moan, toes curling where they were on the hardwood,
almost slipping, but one of George’s hands grabbed his waist, holding him in a
vice grip.
The finger was fucking him, not slowly, but quick. The strokes didn’t hit him
where he wanted them to, but he almost thought that might be the point. That
George was purposefully missing.
He wasn’t expecting the moment when one finger became two, stretching him
quickly, efficiently. It was easy to tell that George wanted this as much as he
did.
Then the fingers were being pulled out, the first time Alexander hadn’t had
three fingers stretch him.
He was about to question it, but then he could feel the tip of George’s cock
pressing against him, and he moaned, trying to press back.
He stopped when the hand on his waist tightened, holding him there, not
allowing any movement.
It was only a second before George bottomed out, barely giving Alexander time
to adjust to the intrusion when he pulled out again.
He set a punishing pace. Hard. Fast. Dirty.
Everything Alexander wanted and more.
His hands flailed, they couldn’t grab onto the edge of the desk, the force with
which George was fucking him was causing the desk to ram into the wall,
creating a loud thudding noise that seemed to echo throughout the room.
Alexander tried to press his hands into the wood itself, but couldn’t get a
grasp on it, and he realized that he was left at the mercy of George.
Both the man’s hands were on his waist now, holding over spots where there were
already bruises, no doubt deepening them.
The desk was biting into his hips, his cock stuck between him and the wood on
top, not causing him any relief, if anything, it only made him harder.
He knew there would be a straight line of bruising on the front of his hips,
and the thought made him grin.
The grin didn’t last long, replaced by moans, gasps, screamed out versions of,
“Right there, right there. God, daddy, please,” a litany of filthy words
spilling from his lips.
George slapped him at one point, no doubt in response to a curse word falling
from his lips.
But Alexander wasn’t in control of his mind anymore, the only thoughts stirring
about being, “Harder. Faster. More.”
He didn’t know how George could possibly give him more, though. He was giving
him everything.
He didn’t know how long he had been there when George let out a low moan, and
within seconds he could feel him coming deep inside him. Warm. Sticky.
And George kept fucking him until his own orgasm stopped. He pulled out, much
to Alexander’s dismay, and flipped the boy over.
Alexander could melt under his gaze. His eyes were glazed over with lust and
want. His face was flushed. There was a sheen of sweat over his brow.
George wrapped his hand around Alexander’s cock, stroking him to completion,
only taking seconds. Alexander dropped his head with a heavy ‘thud’ against the
desk as he came, the force with it almost maddening.
…
When he came to, he was submerged in a bath.
He wasn’t alone, and he twisted slightly to see George beneath him, eyes closed
in what looked like thought.
One opened as he moved, though, the other following soon after.
“I thought I’d broken you,” the voice that came out of George’s mouth was
gruff, fucked out, and perfect.
“I think you might have,” Alexander said with a wide grin. “I like it. I want
to be broken like that more.”
George shook his head. “I don’t know what came over me, it was like I was a
different person.”
Alexander leaned up, ignoring the way his body seemed to protest, and pressed a
deep kiss to George’s lips. “It was wonderful.”
George smiled softly. “As long as you’re okay,” he whispered.
Alexander nodded. “I’m perfect.”
…
They stayed in the bath until the water turned cold.
George had already washed Alexander’s hair before he came back to the present,
had already thoroughly cleaned him.
He had murmured something about having to put the hoodie in the washer, which
Alexander gave an embarrassed apology. That earned him a smile, and he could
live with it forever.
They were in bed now. Both of them naked. George was holding Alexander close to
him, one hand wrapped around his waist, the other combing through the still
damp strands of his hair.
“You’re beautiful,” George whispered, his voice so obviously tired.
Alexander grinned, kissing the closest part of George, which happened to be his
neck.
They didn’t speak after that, falling into a comfortable silence; until
Alexander slipped into darkness, sleep pulling him under.
Chapter End Notes
     Hope you enjoyed this.
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     Also, it would make me really happy.... sooooooo....
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     But do not fret, it is not the end of the line, there will be more.
     It's gonna be a series.
     You can comment on here prompts or stuff you would like to see on the
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     Anyways, this is getting long, so, yeah, see you next chapter.
     Mwah.
***** Chapter Twenty-Two *****
Chapter Summary
     George looked him over, frowning a bit as his gaze landed on
     Alexander’s waist. Alexander looked down, easily catching sight of
     the bruises littered there.
     The hand shaped ones were dark, incredibly dark, and though they
     should probably be painful, they only sent a rush of arousal
     throughout Alexander. There was a solid purple line across the front
     part of his hips, obviously a remnant of the desk.
     George reached a hand out, running his fingertips over the bruises.
     “I hurt you,” he whispered.
     Alexander shook his head, catching George’s hand in his own,
     squeezing softly. “I’m okay,” he told him. “Really, I’m fine. More
     than fine, actually. I’m fantastic.”
Chapter Notes
     New chapter :)
     Hope you guys enjoy it.
     More at the end.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
When Alexander woke up, he was alone. It didn’t surprise him very much; he
figured maybe George was in the kitchen or the living room. But he didn’t hear
any noises from outside the bedroom.
He frowned, forcing himself into a sitting position, his lower abdomen tensing
up for a second. He looked around, finding his phone on the bedside table,
plugged in for the first time since he had been there.
He grabbed for it, checking the time. It was 10:33; he only had one message.
It was just a text from Lafayette, a series of random French words, nothing
really making sense. “Probably drunk,” he mumbled to himself, shaking his head.
He sent back a laughing emoji, figuring he would get it when he woke up, hung
over and annoyed with himself.
He sat his phone back down, standing up from the bed and stretching, looking
for his sweats, finding them on the floor and pulling them on.
Alexander wandered from the bedroom, finding the living room and kitchen empty
of anybody, a note sitting on the table.
He recognized the handwriting from notes written on his tests, and he picked it
up.
‘I left at 8, you were still asleep, couldn’t bring myself to wake you. I’ll be
back around noon. There’s cereal in the cabinet if you get hungry. I’ll bring
back lunch. Don’t destroy anything.
-George’
Alexander laughed to himself, finding himself a bowl and getting some cereal,
sitting down on a chair and going about eating it.
…
It was only eleven by the time he was finished, the clock on the oven blinking
obnoxiously at him.
He got up, rinsing out his bowl and sticking it in the dishwasher, making his
way over to the living room.
He sat down on the floor in front of the window, staring out at the snow,
blinding him as the sun reflected off of it.
It was Thursday, but there was barely anybody in the office building across
from him. Blinds were pulled, lights were off. There were altogether about ten
offices that were lit up.
His eyes were drawn to one, in particular, his face heating up as he found the
man staring back at him.
The man raised a hand in a slight wave; Alexander stared at him for a moment
before waving back.
Alexander stood again, suddenly feeling incredibly visible. He walked to the
couch, sitting as far from the window as he could, and turned on the
television, finding a random show and turning it on.
…
The elevator opened as Alexander was finishing up the second episode of some
home improvement show he had been watching.
“I bring the gift of food,” George called out, the telltale sound of him
placing a paper bag on the counter.
Alexander grumbled to himself, uncurling his legs from underneath him and
walking to where George stood, a few bags in his hands.
“What’s in those?” Alexander questioned, trying to get a peek inside them.
George pulled them back, shaking his head. “Presents. A few for you, a few for
other teachers, some friends,” he shrugged.
Alexander huffed, but turned towards the food instead, the scent filling his
nose, making him suddenly hungry. “What did you get for lunch?” he questioned.
“Barbecue,” George answered, walking towards the living room and sitting the
other bags down on the chair in front of the window, barely casting a glance
out of it, before walking back to the kitchen and helping Alexander pull out
the food.
There was a large thing of homemade fries, along with two hamburgers and some
pulled pork, two cups of baked beans, and a smaller cup of sauce.
“You hungry?” Alexander teased, moving to grab a couple plates for them.
George shrugged, taking one of the plates and beginning to even distribute his
own food. “I wanted to make sure you ate enough, I’ve seen you in school,
you’re as thin as a twig half the time.”
Alexander grumbled under his breath, but got his own food and sat down in one
of the chairs.
…
Alexander wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he had to go back to his
foster parent’s when he didn’t have George to feed him anymore. Probably get
back into the same poor eating schedule of ‘whenever you have time’.
He stood from his spot, grabbing both his and George’s plates and taking them
to the sink to clear off before sticking them in the dishwasher.
By the time he turned back around, George had walked to the living room, armed
with a roll of wrapping paper, scissors, and tape, making himself a workspace
on the ground.
The way George was sitting made it obvious that he was wrapping Alexander’s and
he tried to make his way over there silently to peek, but George had already
gotten whatever it was in a box and was going about his way cutting wrapping
paper for it.
He began to wonder how George could pay for all of this. The presents, the
apartment. It all seemed so expensive.
“George?” he questioned, rocking a bit on his toes.
George looked over at him from where he sat on the floor, carefully wrapping
the box that held whatever Alexander’s present was. “Yeah?”
Alexander paused for a second, working the words over in his brain. “How do you
afford all this,” he gestured around the apartment, “on a teacher’s salary?”
George laughed softly. “I was wondering when you were going to ask,” he said
softly. “Back when I was still married, I work in a big business in Virginia.
Paid real well. After the divorce, Martha and I each settled on things that we
could sell from our estate, and it racked up a pretty good amount of money to
put away, along with what I already had.”
Alexander nodded, walking over and sitting cross-legged beside him. “How does
it last?”
“Well,” George murmured, staring intently at a spot of wrapping paper that
wouldn’t fold. “I offer services also. I create websites for people, that pays
quite a bit, actually. I’ll go in every so often downtown to help design
buildings. Give blood, I think of creative ways to keep my comfortable living
style.”
“Huh,” Alexander murmured, pursing his lips. “What buildings have you helped
design?”
“This one,” George stated quickly, as though he had already been waiting for
Alexander to ask that. “That’s why I can stay living here. They gave me this
apartment at a lower cost than it would be for anyone else. I’m respected here,
I hold a lot of power over the proceedings here.”
Alexander leaned forward a bit, trying to see into the small crack in the box.
“Could you get someone fired from here?” he questioned.
George nodded thoughtfully. “As long as they aren’t essential personnel, yes,”
he told him with a shrug.
Alexander hummed, watching George look away to grab the tape, and he tried to
grab the box, only to be stopped by George sitting back up and practically
tackling him onto the floor.
Alexander whined. “I just want to know what my present is,” he was looking up
at George, caged in by his arms.
“Then you’ll just have to wait until tomorrow morning,” George told him,
ducking his head to kiss Alexander.
Alexander raised an eyebrow. “But tomorrow is Christmas eve,” he stated matter-
of-factly.
“And you leave tomorrow, so it just makes it easier to give you your present in
the morning,” George stated, leaning back again to tape up the present.
Alexander huffed, propping himself up on his elbows, spreading his legs a bit,
though he was still confined in his sweats.
George chuckled, reaching one hand over to pat the nearest bit of Alexander he
could find, which just happened to be his thigh. “Sorry, baby,” he murmured.
…
George took far too long wrapping presents. Alexander had the aching suspicion
that it was on purpose, that he was wrapping slowly just to annoy Alexander.
It was nearly three by the time he was finished, all presents covered in overly
festive wrapping paper.
Most of the presents were pretty generic, some shirts, a few cups, a memorable
card for someone that George apparently never talked to anymore but felt
obligated to send a present to.
He didn’t have a tree, and he just piled up the presents in the corner of his
living room, stating that he would send them out the next day.
“Are you done now?” Alexander asked him, even though there obviously wasn’t
anything else left to wrap up.
George nodding, moving stiffly to stand up. He reached a hand out, and
Alexander took it to stand.
George looked him over, frowning a bit as his gaze landed on Alexander’s waist.
Alexander looked down, easily catching sight of the bruises littered there.
The hand shaped ones were dark, incredibly dark, and though they should
probably be painful, they only sent a rush of arousal throughout Alexander.
There was a solid purple line across the front part of his hips, obviously a
remnant of the desk.
George reached a hand out, running his fingertips over the bruises. “I hurt
you,” he whispered.
Alexander shook his head, catching George’s hand in his own, squeezing softly.
“I’m okay,” he told him. “Really, I’m fine. More than fine, actually. I’m
fantastic.”
George was still staring down at the bruises, eyebrows pulled together in angry
concern.
Alexander sighed, using his free arm to cover up the bruises. “Stop, it wasn’t
your fault,” he told him sternly. “I told you to do it, I told you what I
wanted. You only did as I asked.”
George looked up from his waist, looking him in the eyes, seeming to search for
assurance. Alexander only smiled back, pulling lightly on his hand, leading him
towards the couch.
“I want you to hold me,” Alexander told him, pushing him down onto the cushion,
crawling into his lap.
George chuckled softly, wrapping his arms around Alexander, lying down with him
on his chest.
“What time did you wake up this morning?” Alexander asked him, looking towards
the television.
“About six,” George murmured. “I took a shower, ate breakfast, got ready, and
you were still passed out on the bed,” he laughed quietly. “You looked so cute
and soft, it took all my strength not to crawl back in and hold you. But I
needed to get presents bought.”
Alexander hummed, leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to George’s lips.
George smiled, rubbing Alexander’s back with one hand, combing through his hair
with the other.
It didn’t take long before Alexander was fighting to keep his eyes open.
…
“Alex, baby, wake up,” a voice cut into his dream, and it was actually a good
dream.
Alexander whined, shaking his head and curling further into the warmth beneath
him.
Laughter, it was moving him. “Wake up, Alex,” was repeated again. “Your phone
is going off in the bedroom.”
Alexander grumbled under his breath, rolling off George, falling hard onto the
floor. “Oomf,” the air was knocked out of him, but he got up as quickly as he
could.
He caught the last few sounds of his phone ringing, before it cut off,
obviously going to voicemail.
“Better not be a drunk Frenchman,” he muttered, walking towards the bedroom
with slow languid steps.
The ringing started again, and he groaned, walking in and picking his phone up
from the bedside table, reading the caller ID.
‘French Fuck’ was flashing on the screen, and he sighed, clicking answer and
holding it up to his ear.
“Yes, Laf?” he questioned, sitting on the side of the bed.
“Alexandre, mon ami!” he wasn’t drunk, though he was incredibly happy for god
knows what reason.
“Do you need something?” Alexander asked, fighting the smile that was working
its way onto his face.
“Oui, oui,” Lafayette answered, and Alexander could imagine he was nodding.
“Our dear friend John wanted me to call and make sure you hadn’t gotten
yourself killed. He went by your house, but you were manquant. He was worried.”
Alexander laughed softly. “I’ve been staying at a…friend’s house. .”
Lafayette said something, though it wasn’t into the phone, and Alexander could
hear another voice, easily identifiable as John’s. There was a distinct sound
of the phone being passed around for a second before another voice was
speaking.
“Alex, dude, where are you staying? What friend’s place? We’re your friends,”
John was saying quickly, the sound of someone being slapped in the background,
probably Lafayette.
Alexander scoffed slightly. “I have other friends,” he stated.
“Yeah, name three other friends you have,” John teased.
“Eliza, Angelica, Peggy,” Alexander answered quickly, barely a second in
between John’s question and his answer.
John laughed. “Okay, they don’t count, you’ve dated two-thirds of them,” he
stated.
“I didn’t date Angelica,” Alexander argued.
“You’re right,” John agreed. “You only flirted with her and then dated her
sister.”
Alexander sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Yeah, that was kind of a
stupid move,” he mumbled. “But I am staying at a friend’s house. You just don’t
know him.”
John hummed on the other line, the sound of him covering the microphone and
muttering a few curse words to someone else, who responded in a heavy accent
with, “C'est mon putain de téléphone, Laurens.”
John came back on the phone. “Laf is making give him back his phone, don’t make
any bad decisions. Love ya.”
The phone was tossed about again before Lafayette was back on. “No bad
decisions, Alexandre.”
Alexander laughed. “Will do, Laf. I’ll see you on Christmas, okay?”
“Of course, au revoir, mon ami,” was the last thing he said before hanging up.
Alexander laughed, shaking his head, sitting his phone back down and walking
back out to the living room.
The clock read 6:00; George was in the kitchen, throwing together what looked
like some kind of soup.
Alexander walked up behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing
his face to the space between George’s shoulder blades.
George laughed softly, back muscles moving as he stirred whatever was in the
pot.
“What’re you making?” Alexander asked, his voice muffled into George’s shirt.
“Chili,” George told him, moving a bit to grab something. “That okay with you?”
Alexander nodded. “I like chili, but its name always has bothered me.”
“Why does its name bother you?” George questioned.
“Because,” Alexander said, drawing out the word. “It’s called ‘chili’ but it’s
hot. I don’t like it.”
George laughed again. “Interesting reasoning,” he murmured, turning around in
Alexander’s hold.
Alexander looked up at him, grinning. “Hold me some more?” he asked innocently.
George smiled softly, leaning down and picking him up, carrying him towards the
couch again, lying down in a quick movement.
…
Alexander had fallen asleep again, and he was now being shaken softly. “Alex,
food’s ready.”
He was alone on the couch, and he rolled slightly, looking up to see George
hovering over him.
“Wha- what time’s it?” Alexander slurred sleepily, reaching up to rub the sleep
from his eyes.
George smiled down at him. “About 7:30,” he told him. “I just let you sleep,
I’ve never seen someone sleep as much as you have these past few days.”
Alexander sat up, shrugging slightly. “You’ve used up all of my energy. I need
to rejuvenate myself.”
George shook his head, the smile on his face fond. “Get up, get some food in
you. Besides, my chili is delicious. You wouldn’t want to miss out on it.”
Alexander laughed. “You’re so full of yourself,” he muttered, standing up and
stretching, leaning up on his toes to kiss George softly.
George’s grin turned teasing. “You’ve been full of me recently, too,” he told
him.
Alexander blushed, wiping a hand over his face and walking past George,
mumbling under his breath. He made it to the kitchen, getting himself a bowl of
the chili and sitting down at the table, still muttering to himself.
…
Dinner, as always, was mostly quiet, filled with only small conversation and
hums of appreciation for the food.
George was cleaning up now, placing the leftover food in a bowl and into the
fridge. Alexander had his headphones in, dancing around subtly to the music
that was playing.
He was in front of the window, catching sight of falling snow as he dance, the
only lights coming in being from along with road and a few billboards that were
lit up with useless ads.
Arms wrapped around him, stopping him mid-step, to which he let out a long
whine.
The headphones were pulled from his ears, his phone being pulled out of the
waistband of his sweats, both of which were sat on the coffee table in the
living room.
“I was listening to that,” Alexander whined. “Why’d you do that?”
George laughed, shaking his head. “We’re gonna watch a movie before bed,” he
told him, leading him towards the bedroom. “Any suggestions?”
Alexander hummed to himself. “Not anything too cheesy,” he told him.
George nodded. “Maybe a superhero movie, then,” he murmured. “Any of those you
like?”
Alexander nodded quickly. “Let’s watch Avengers. Please.”
George smiled. “I think I actually have that one,” he said softly, pushing
Alexander towards the bed and kneeling down, he grabbed the movie, standing
back to get the television ready.
The television in George’s room pulled out from the wall, blending in if it
wasn’t on. It didn’t surprise Alexander that he hadn’t seen it. He had a vague
memory of watching something on it, though he couldn’t really remember if that
was a dream or real life.
George did everything quickly, fluidly, and within a moment, he was on the bed
again, pushing Alexander down. “Gonna get sweats on, and I’ll join you, ‘kay?”
Alexander nodded, lying down and curling up under the blankets, watching the
opening credits of the movie begin.
…
Alexander was struggling to keep his eyes open by the final battle. It was
nearly 10:30, and movies always made him tired.
It really didn’t help that George was currently messing with his hair, more
petting than combing. It was effectively putting him to sleep.
…
He woke up to the bed moving. George was getting out of it.
“Where you going?” Alexander asked softly, eyelids heavy.
“Just going to shut off the TV, go back to sleep baby,” George answered, doing
just that, appearing back in the bed a second later.
It didn’t take anything for him to fall back into his slumber, George’s arms
wrapped around him, cocooning him in warmth.
Chapter End Notes
     Well, this is drawing to an end.
     At most there will be two more chapters, but I see it as only one.
     Of course, I've said it's going to be a series, and I'm holding to
     that.
     Comment or message me on Tumblr a prompt you'd want to see in the
     series, and if you'd like it to be a one-shot or a few chapters.
     And say hi to me on Tumblr, I enjoy getting messages :)
     Also, even if it doesn't have to do with this, send me drawings you
     guys have done, I like seeing other people's works, mostly cause I
     can't draw for shit.
     Love y'all.
     Tumblr >>> https://underaspark.tumblr.com/
      
     Also, for the French, I used some Google Translate, cause my French
     is limited to very simple words and curse words. Eh.
     Here are the approximate translations, if they're wrong tell me to
     fix it.
     'Alexandre' - Alexander
     'Mon ami' - My friend
     'Oui' - Yes
     'Manquant' - Missing
     'Ne vous inquiétez pas' - Do not worry
     'C'est mon putain de téléphone, Laurens' - It's my fucking phone,
     Laurens
     'Au revoir' - Goodbye
      
     (Oh, and I'm technologically challenged. How do you like, make words
     in italics/bold? I need help here people)
***** Chapter Twenty-Three *****
Chapter Summary
     He walked with soft steps out to the kitchen, looking at the clock on
     the stove. It was only eight in the morning, the first time Alexander
     had woken up before nine or ten.
     The sun was streaming in the window, and Alexander was drawn to it.
     It was Saturday; Alexander was unsurprised to find all the blinds
     drawn in the office building across the way.
     The light coming in was reflecting off something to Alexander’s
     right, and he turned to see the pile of presents lying there.
Chapter Notes
     Here's the final chapter.
     Hope you enjoy it, I enjoyed writing it for you.
     I will continue this in a series, so you'll see more of these two
     soon.
     Without further ado.
     Read on, my darlings.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Alexander woke first.
He was held tightly against George, the man’s chest rising and falling with
even breaths.
He tried to slip out of George’s grip, though the man let out an annoyed noise,
his arms tightening for a second, before relaxing again.
Alexander smiled to himself, slowly maneuvering his body from where he was
being held.
He stood carefully from the bed, casting glances back to make sure he wasn’t
waking up George.
He walked with soft steps out to the kitchen, looking at the clock on the
stove. It was only eight in the morning, the first time Alexander had woken up
before nine or ten.
The sun was streaming in the window, and Alexander was drawn to it. It was
Saturday; Alexander was unsurprised to find all the blinds drawn in the office
building across the way.
The light coming in was reflecting off something to Alexander’s right, and he
turned to see the pile of presents lying there.
He glanced back down the hall to the master bedroom, no sign of George waking,
before slowly going to his knees, practically crawling towards the gifts. He
sat back on his heels once he reached them.
There were three presents labeled with his name, each progressively smaller in
size. The largest was the size of what he could only think of as a pet carrier,
perhaps for a small dog or cat. The next was about half the size, more of a
perfect cube.
The third was small, smaller than Alexander’s fist, and that was the one he
picked up.
He shook it lightly, listening to whatever was in it move around a bit.
Whatever it was slid against the sides of the box fluidly, like it was just
sitting in there.
He sat down that box and went to pick up the next one when he heard a noise.
He froze in his spot, the noise followed by the clearing of someone’s throat.
It was pretty obvious who it was, and Alexander pulled his hands back into his
lap, staring down at the presents like a child who was just caught.
Which, really, he was.
“Trying to sneak a peek at your presents?” George questioned, and Alexander
could hear him walking closer, could feel his presence as he stopped behind
him, as he kneeled down.
Alexander slowly turned his head to look back at him, trying to act as
innocently as he could.
George tsked, shaking his head. “Naughty,” he murmured, bringing his hands up
to rest on Alexander’s shoulders. “Why don’t you open the big one, hmm?”
Alexander thought for a moment, sure this was some kind of a trap. But when he
reached forward and grabbed it, he wasn’t stopped.
“I guess,” George was murmuring, as Alexander began to slowly unwrap the
present. “This one is more of a present for me.”
Alexander looked back at him confusedly, but George just nodded to the package.
Alexander shrugged, finishing unwrapping it and going about instead undoing the
tape along the sides of the box.
The first thing he saw were ropes.
Actual, silk, ropes.
Alexander blushed deeply, pulling the ropes out and studying them in his hands.
It was obviously high class; the silk was dark green, the same color as the
blankets and sheets in the master bedroom.
He toyed around with it, wrapping it around his hands.
“Keep going,” George murmured, kissing the top of his head.
Alexander nodded, setting the rope down beside him and looking back in. There
was one other box inside it, and Alexander lifted it out carefully.
George laughed softly. “That’s a box, which has a box inside it, which has
another box inside it, and inside that box, is your present.”
Alexander huffed. “Really didn’t want me to get it open, huh,” he mumbled.
George hummed, wrapping his arms around Alexander, watching over his shoulder
as the boy open a box, and opened a box, and opened another box, which held a
black plastic bag.
“I know this bag,” Alexander whispered. “This from the… store.”
“You’re right, it is from the store,” George agreed. “Which store?”
The blush that had been on Alexander’s face deepened. “The sex one,” he mumbled
under his breath.
George chuckled, and Alexander could feel him nod.
He tore off the tape that was holding the bag closed, pulling out yet another
box.
He groaned, shaking his head, though there was a small smile on his lips.
Alexander opened the box slowly, furrowing his eyebrows for a second as he
stared at what was inside, before realizing what it was.
“Oh my god,” he whispered, turning his head to look at George. “A cock ring. I
feel like I’m being tortured today.”
George grinned widely. “That’s a good guess,” he told him, pulling the boy
closer and meeting his lips with a bruising kiss.
It only lasted a few seconds, before he was pulling back.
“What’s in the other boxes?” Alexander asked airily, staring back at George,
eyes flitting from his eyes to his mouth.
George hummed. “You can open the bigger one, but the other one is for,” he
trailed off a bit. “Later.”
Alexander whined, pouting with his bottom lip, but grabbed the larger box
anyways, going about unwrapping it.
He stared inside of the box for a few seconds before saying anything.
Inside there were eight pairs of panties, all lace, four different colors. Dark
green, dark red, dark blue, black. Two pairs of each; one a pair of boy shorts
and one a thong.
George’s hands were wandering now, over Alexander’s chest, his thighs. “You
don’t have to wear them,” he whispered in his ear. “I thought they would suit
you, though.”
Alexander grinned, turning his head and pressing a kiss to George’s lips. “I
love them,” he told him quickly.
George smiled, somewhat shyly, before it grew dark. “Now, I’m going to have to
deal with the naughty little one who tried to sneak into his presents.”
An involuntary shiver traveled up Alexander’s spine. “What’re you gonna do?” he
asked softly.
George hummed. “Grab those first two presents, would you?” he told him, before
standing up and walking towards the bedroom. “And follow me.”
Alexander swallowed slowly, standing up as well, grabbing both the ropes and
the cock ring, still in its box, and followed behind him.
George had already set the handcuffs and vibrator on the bed, obviously having
done so before he had come out of the bedroom.
George was holding his hands out, and Alexander gave him the presents he was
holding slowly, head cocked slightly to the side.
“Do you know what the color system is?” George questioned, completely
nonchalant, as though he was asking about Alexander’s favorite dinner.
“Uh, yeah, green is go, yellow is – uh – slow down and talk, and red is stop,”
Alexander answered slowly. “Right?”
George nodded. “Good, good,” he murmured, and Alexander smiled even if it
wasn’t a direct praise.
“Why?” Alexander questioned.
George glanced up at him. “Just checking,” he told him simply. “How do you feel
about being tied up?”
Alexander bit his lip, nodding. “I like it,” he murmured shyly.
George nodded. “Good,” he stated, gesturing for him to come to the bed.
Alexander followed his movements, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
“Climb up and lay down for me, would you,” George told him, messing with the
rope in his hands.
Alexander nodded, even if George wasn’t looking at him. He lay down on the
pillow, looking towards George.
George finally turned to look at him, holding up the handcuffs. Alexander
grinned, moving his hands up to the headboard; George quickly cuffed his hands
around a spindle.
George smiled down at him, grabbing something from the side table, easily
identifiable as the lube bottle, pulling off Alexander’s sweats.
“I’m gonna open you, baby,” he told him, grabbing a pillow and sliding it under
Alexander’s lower back, holding him up.
Alexander nodded quickly, cock quickly taking interest in what was happening.
George took no time, opening Alexander quickly and efficiently; by the time he
was done Alexander was already a moaning, begging mess.
“Let me come,” Alexander was begging. “Please, please, daddy, please.”
But George was effectively ignoring his pleas, and he grabbed onto Alexander’s
hips, holding him down. He reached for something; Alexander was too much of a
mess to notice what it was until it was on him.
The cock ring was tight, and Alexander could tell he wasn’t going to be allowed
to come anytime soon.
George stood from the bed, grabbing one of the ropes and tying Alexander’s
right leg to the bedpost, doing the same to his left.
He was spread eagle on the bed, completely open for George to do anything.
“Color?” he questioned, watching as Alexander tested the bounds.
“Green?” Alexander answered though he phrased it as an almost question as if he
were afraid of answering wrong. “I mean- green. For sure, green.”
George grinned darkly, moving to grab the vibrator, slicking it up with lube
and holding it up in front of Alexander with a raised eyebrow.
Alexander nodded quickly, almost begging George to just fuck him with it.
George hummed, pushing it in slowly, and Alexander was moaning, trying and
failing to push down on it.
George tutted, finishing pressing it in, standing from the bed. He grabbed
Alexander's phone, opening it up and calling himself. “If it gets to be too
much, say red,” he told him. “I’ll be in the living room grading papers.”
Alexander watched him go, eyes pleading for him to come back and fuck him, do
anything to him.
…
It felt like hours before anything changed, though Alexander knew it had only
been like ten minutes.
And then the vibrator turned on.
A moan ripped from his throat, and he tried to move away from the vibrator.
There was no introduction, it started on the highest setting, and it stayed on
that setting.
He was moaning and gasping, no words falling from his lips, no words being
conjured in his mind.
He couldn’t think, he could barely breathe, and his heart was hammering wildly
in his chest.
…
It stayed on for at least twenty minutes, before shutting off just as abruptly
as it had started, leaving Alexander whining on the bed, tears falling from his
eyes.
George appeared in the doorway, looking quizzically at him.
“Green,” Alexander said through soft sobs.
George nodded, disappearing again from the room.
…
The next time the vibrator turned on, it stayed on.
Time was useless to Alexander, he knew it was daylight out, could see sun
streaming down the hallway.
But he didn’t know how long he had been lying there. It felt like forever to
him, though it couldn’t have been more than an hour, he knew that.
Time ticked by, he was moaning, sobbing, gasping, doing everything in his power
to keep from begging.
Of course, that only lasted so long.
“Daddy, daddy, please, let me come,” he was begging, hoping the phone was
catching everything. Knew George was probably in the living room listening to
all his noises.
It turned him on to think about it. To think about George trying to grade
papers.
Maybe he was lazily stroking himself through the sweats he had on.
Maybe he was ignoring the sounds all together.
Maybe he was using Alexander as his own type of porn.
Thoughts were swirling so fast in his head; he didn’t notice George come back
into the room.
He only noticed when he heard a chair move across the floor.
His eyes flew open, landing on George, who was now sitting on his desk chair,
which was turned towards him now, and he was naked, his cock on full display
for Alexander to see. Of course, he had to strain his neck to see it.
He dropped his head back again, letting his sounds grow louder.
…
He wasn’t quite sure when the vibrations shut off again, but he did know when
George was untying his legs, pulling the vibrator out.
“Gonna fuck you, baby,” he murmured, laying himself over Alexander’s body,
grinding down and kissing him deeply. “You want that?”
Alexander nodded quickly. “Yes, yes, daddy, please, daddy.”
George chuckled. “Okay, baby girl,” he whispered, leaning up to uncuff his
wrists from the headboard.
Alexander’s arms immediately wrapped around George’s neck, pulling him into a
hard kiss, not giving him much of a choice than to kiss him back.
George let him have his moment, before pulling back and slicking himself up.
“Up on your hands and knees, doll?”
Alexander nodded quickly, moving as he was told.
Before he knew it, his ass was in the air, face pressed into the pillows
beneath him.
George was fucking into him with reckless abandon, hands held tightly on his
hips.
Alexander, for what it was worth, was stringing together some words. Of course,
they mostly consisted of, “Daddy,” “Please,” “Harder,” and “More.”
He could tell the minute George was about to come, his hips still for a second,
hands tightened, before he felt warm everywhere.
Alexander moaned, biting into the fabric beneath him.
George pulled out in a fluid motion, Alexander collapsed onto the bed, wincing
as he landed on his still painfully hard cock.
“You ready to come?” George questioned, a little breathless. “Want me to let
you come?”
Alexander nodded, forcing himself to roll over. “Please daddy, please let me
come.”
George chuckled. “Of course, baby girl.”
Alexander expected him to stroke him off, but he grabbed the vibrator again,
coating it in lube once again and pushing it in.
He turned it on high, though with the ring still on, Alexander couldn’t do much
more than just cry out.
“Don’t touch yourself,” George warned, leaning down and slipping the cock ring
off.
It really was embarrassing how quickly Alexander came, stripes over his own
chest.
George chuckled, shutting off the vibrator once he was done, pulling it out
slowly.
…
Alexander must’ve blacked out.
When he came to again, he was cleaned up; he was wrapped up in George’s arms as
the other man lay beneath him.
“What happened?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
George hummed, rubbing Alexander’s back. “You passed out,” he whispered. “About
five minutes ago. You know you could’ve said red.”
Alexander shook his head. “No, I didn’t need to. I liked it. Thank you.”
…
They lay like that for about half an hour more.
“I should be taking you home soon,” George whispered, stroking through
Alexander’s hair idly.
Alexander whined. “I don’t want to leave.”
George chuckled, kissing the top of his head. “I have another present for you.”
…
It took another ten minutes of goading before Alexander stood up shakily,
letting George lead him from the room.
He handed Alexander the smaller box, looking at him with a small smile.
Alexander returned his smile, opening the box carefully.
Inside was a gold bracelet, a single chain, shiny, beautiful.
“You didn’t have to,” Alexander whispered tears in his eyes.
George smiled. “I needed to.”
…
George helped him pack, putting all the things he got him in a new bag,
insisting Alexander take it.
He was wearing the bracelet now, idly spinning it around his left wrist with
his right hand.
They were pulling up to his foster house, no one was home yet, but he knew they
would be any minute.
George grabbed his hand, squeezing softly.
Alexander looked back at him with an almost sad smile, leaning over and kissing
him softly. “I’ll see you soon?”
George grinned. “You will. Eighteen days.”
…
Alexander woke up the next morning to the sounds of someone making food in the
kitchen.
He figured it was his foster mom, making herself breakfast before she headed
off to some office party.
He groaned, grabbing his phone from beneath his pillow.
He only had one text.
Merry Christmas.
George
He grinned, sending back a similar text, before saving the number in his phone.
It really was merry.
Chapter End Notes
     And just like that, it's over.
     I truly hope you enjoyed this.
     Here is the link for what I imagined the bracelet to look like >>
     https://www.overstock.com/Jewelry-Watches/14k-Yellow-Gold-8.5-inch-
     Mariner-Bracelet/3464778/
     product.html?refccid=VFMWVAQFVH6ZP2CDY6D6QZGYMY&searchidx=9
     Damn that's a long link.
     Find me on Tumblr >> https://underaspark.tumblr.com/
     Send me messages, say hi, whateva.
     Also, if you want to see something in the story, send me a prompt, if
     it's not outside my field of comfort, I'll include it.
     I'll be back.
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