17. Sylvan

17

SYLVAN

T his was what perfection looked like. Never in a million years did I imagine a college professor would be my ideal match, yet here we were. Irving's clothes, now dry, were still draped over the back of a chair. A bird chirped outside on the windowsill, reminding me it was time to get up and start the day. I wasn't ready yet. I wanted to stay in bed with Irving as long as possible.

The bird chirped again and he stirred, blinking his eyes a few times to adjust to the bright morning light.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." I smiled and stroked Irving's tousled black hair out of his eyes.

"What time is it?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Oh, around 8."

That seemed to wake him up enough for him to jolt upright in bed and throw the oversized sweater off of both of us.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. "Fuck, fuck fuck."

"What's wrong?" I asked, snatching the sweater before it dropped to the floor and draping it back over my lap.

"I'm late for class."

"Again?" I sighed and let my head fall back onto the pillow. "Really, Irving, is it that important? You're already late, why not forgo your morning class entirely?"

He paused, and for those few silent seconds, I worried that he was going to take offense at my suggestion. He certainly would have a few weeks ago, or even a few days ago.

"You're right," he said quietly, sinking back into bed. "I do deserve to have a late morning, don't I?"

I nodded triumphantly. "You most certainly do. And you know what that means, don't you?"

"That I need to email my students and let them know 8:30 class is canceled?"

"No. Well, that too, but it means we can spend the morning together – just the two of us."

I smile spread across Irving's lips. "Yes, of course, just the two of us."

He tore the quilt away from me again, and this time I let it fall into a heap on the floor. There was no need for pretenses anymore. His hands found themselves around my waist, pulling me on top of him. He moaned as I kissed along his jawline, nibbling at his neck, the soft skin speckled with stubble.

"Mmm, wait a moment," he said, moving my hand so he could slide out from underneath me.

"Why?" I protested. "We were just getting started."

"My students," he reminded me. "I need to email them before I forget and it's too late."

I sat back and crossed my arms. "You're incorrigible, you know."

"Yes, I do."

He grabbed his glasses off the nightstand and put them on as he walked over to his phone by the couch. As he stood there typing, I watched him with an inexplicable interest in such a mundane task.

Irving was in better shape than he would admit. He didn't work out regularly, but he kept fit with daily walks and, now that he had me in his life, a romp in the sheets as often as possible. He was tall, slim, and just my type. Anyone would have been my type, really, but looking at him now, I realized just how perfect he was.

His cock, semihard, was begging me for attention. I was tempted to go over there, drop to my knees, and start sucking it at this very moment. What was stopping me?

Indeed, what was stopping me? Nothing. Irving was focused on that blasted email he was sending out and I was left in bed to wait for him, but I was growing impatient. I wanted more. I got up quietly, stopping only when I was in front of Irving. He glanced up briefly, adjusting his glasses, and smiled.

"Just a moment, Sylvan," he told me absently. "I'll come join you in bed as soon as I'm done here."

"No need to wait for that," I replied, sinking to my knees.

Irving wasn't listening anymore, though, so I placed one hand on his hip and the other around his cock, lifting it gently.

"Sylvan, what are you –" He stopped talking as soon as our eyes met.

If I needed confirmation to keep going, that was it. I licked the tip of his cock, taking it in a little deeper each time I closed my mouth around it. Irving stood stock-still as I worked, his phone held limply in one hand. If he'd managed to send off the email, that was all he was going to be able to do for the next few minutes.

I slid my tongue down his shaft, my hand cupping his balls as I pulled him into the back of my throat. He still tasted like last night in the shower, when the steam had fogged up the glass and our sweat mixed with the hot droplets of water reddening our skin.

His breath quickened, tight and heavy. His chest rose and fell with each drop and rise of my head. I picked up my pace, hastily tucking some loose strands of hair behind my ear. I should have put it up before we started, but my mind had been too clouded by lust to think of anything except getting Irving inside my mouth.

He didn't need to tell me when he was close to coming. I could feel it in the way his muscles tensed, the way the veins in his cock pulsed as more precum dripped onto my tongue, the way each breath emerged stilted and restrained. I knew his body almost as well as I knew mine by now, even with the little amount of time we'd been bestowed to have together.

His semen filled my mouth, warm and salty, and I swallowed every last drop of it. I wanted to taste him as long as possible, to be reminded of him every waking moment of the day, even after he was long gone.

As I rose, he grabbed me around the waist, his hands squeezing my ass. "Let me repay you for that," he murmured.

"I was hoping you would." Our lips met, his fluids mixing with our saliva. In that moment, I didn't know how I could have ever thought he would let me go without finishing me off too.