Tag: Archived

Professor Vogelmann finished up his lecture on Roman History, giving out the writing assignments, and reminded the class of the test next week.  The students moans and whines, fell on deaf ears.

“You’re lack of planning doesn’t constitute empathy from me.”  He gave them all look. “We got two review sessions next week, so take a breath.”

“Professor, will it just be on Roman, or all of Antiquity?”  One of the students asked, as others started packing their bags.

“It will focus on Greek, leading into early Roman history.  Next segment we’ll focus on the expansion of the Roman Empire.  Pack up, have a good weekend, and see you Monday.” He closed his own books, and put them into his dark leather satchel, listening as the kids moved around and headed towards the exits.

“Have a good weekend, Professor.”  One of the kids yelled out as they headed out, dodging a younger man who stepped into the room.

Nicholas smiled when he saw Robbie at the back of the lecture hall.  He had one of the oldest around, still looked as if he was teaching history in the 1800’s.  The building was the last on the renovation schedule, it would be at least another five years before he got an updated classroom.

As the last of the kids left, he could hear a few of them asking who the hot guy was.  ‘It’s his husband.’ ‘Professor Vogelmann is gay?’ ‘Yeah who cares.’ ‘But…’ ‘Stop being an asshole.  His husband is hot, my god just to see those two making out would be …’

He tuned them out and focused on his Mate.  “When did you get back?”

“Got in this morning, I’m not sure what time it is let alone day!”  Robbie had been on a world tour for his latest book, he lost track of cities, conventions and book readings.  It was good to be home, and had no intention of leaving their bed for days.

He seductively walked down the last few steps, making his way to his Mate, who looked exceptionally hot in his suit and black robes.  He leaned against the front school desk, smiling coyly. “I’m sorry I missed class Professor. I’m sure I can make it up to you.”

Nicholas gave his Mate a look, ignoring the fact he was half hard already.  Robbie could get him off with just the filthy words coming out of his mouth, let alone wrapping those red lips around his dick.

“You’ve been gone half the semester.”  He folded his arms across his chest, looking very stern.

“Family emergency, my nana was very sick.”  He pouted, sighing dramatically.

“And you were a good boy by taking care of her.”  

“I’m sure I can take care of you.”  Robbie moved closer to the podium, and long table that still held some of Nicholas’ class papers.  “Whatever you need, Professor. I’m good for it.” He licked his lips seductively.

“I needed you in class, to do you work.”  He tried to keep the want out of his voice be he knew it was slipping.

“I’m sure I could do some extra credit.”  Robbie moved around the table. “I’m really good at taking directions, all you need to tell me what to do Professor.”  

“You think this seductive act is going to get you a passing grade?”  Nicholas watched his Mate stalk closer.

“I know I’ve been a bad boy,  you could bend over your desk for a spanking.  Then fill me up with your hard thick cock. Drilling me until I scream, filling me up.”  

Nicholas closed his eyes, imagining that very scenario.  “And if want you to beg.”

Robbie dropped to his knees, mouth slightly open.  “Did I mention I have no gag reflex, you can fuck my throat raw, making me swallow everything.”

“There are times I hate you.”  He threw out his sense, making sure no one was in the area.  “Unzip my pants.”

“Thank you Professor.”  He crawled closer, until he was inches away from the large bulge, filling the tailored suit pants.  With a shy smile, he unzipped the pants, and pulled out the thick cock. “So big, I can’t wait to taste it.”

Nicholas groaned at the sight of those lips wrapped around the head of his cock, with Robbie’s blue eyes staring up at him intently.  There was a reason his erotica books sold mainstream. His Mate had a way with words, the amount of times he got off just reading the rough drafts was embarrassing.

But for Nicholas the very fact he was the one who got to taste those lips, feel his hands roam across his body, and slide into his tight heat, made it all so much more erotic.

He reached down, gripping the long locks as he fucked into that filthy mouth, enjoying the moans pulled from his Mate’s throat.  He wasn’t going to last, and they both knew it – they had been apart for too long. In mere moments he was coming down Robbie’s throat, breathing out his release out, controlling the need to scream his name.

Robbie wiped his mouth with the back of his hands and stood back up, giving Nicholas a smile.  “God I’ve been thinking about that for days.” He leaned forward kissing him, hot and passionate, letting him taste his own essence.  “Was that good Professor.”

“I think you might need to retake your test.”  Nicholas grinned as he pulled him closer, kissing him again. “Welcome home, Robbie.”

“It’s good to be back, my dear Nicholas.”  He laid his head on his Mate’s shoulder, just enjoying being in his company.

It was fear.

Pure and simple.

As sharp as a fracture through crystal.

As clear as a breath of calm, frozen air.

It made his chest ache, as though in reminding him of the heartbeat that such a moment would once have set pounding so desperately fast.

He had broken the rules.

For the first time in a very long time, he had done wrong.

And he would suffer for it.

His Master already knew.

Of course he did.

Their Bond was so widely open, that such a rush of guilty shame and fear could not be mistaken for anything other than what it was.

In part he was annoyed at his own stupidity, for it was one thing to maintain dignity and self-control while on occasion suffering the results of having committed some minor infringement of the simpler rules that governed his life.  But it was something else entirely to confess an infraction of far large magnitude that would take time and effort to repair.

His fear was clarifying though, reminding him of the reasons why rules existed for people like himself.  He needed their limitations, their certainties, their shape and scope to define his life.

Everything had rules.

Everything mattered.

And so even as he stripped off his clothes, he placed them neatly where they belonged, before adorning his body with the symbols of his status as the Slave he had become for his Master.

It was a familiar sensation, to put on the thick leather cuffs at his ankles and wrists.  The metal ring that hung from each one, had been fashioned to match the much smaller version he always wore on the forefinger of his left hand, and the one that pierced the head of his cock.

The metal served its purpose, with or without recourse to other forms of restraint, for his Master had a particular skill in more than just the manipulation of his body.

He smiled, despite the knowledge of what was yet to come.

His Master was unhappy with him, and that would require correction.  But he knew what he had done wrong, and he knew how to make amends.

Contrition.

Obedience.

Suffering.

Kai looked at himself in the full length mirror, satisfied that his appearance was both pleasing and appropriate in the naked vulnerability of his well toned flesh.

As with everything, there was a time and a place for nudity, and a reason for its necessity.  His body was, after all, not his own.  It was the property of his Master, who enjoyed it’s many fine attributes, in many creative ways.

Kai had only to take the very best care of it, in every way, and for that he was lavishly granted whatever he might desire.

Which rather made his own foolish slip up all the more shocking to his own mind.  That he could have forgotten something so important…

He sighed, adjusting his hair slightly so a wisp fell across his forehead innocently, and enhanced his eyes.

He was ready to face the results of his failure, knowing that it would make his Master proud, and further enhance the Bond they shared so freely.

When the Marquis stepped into his private rooms, Kai was waiting.

With deliberate intent he slowly closed the door and locked it behind himself, never once shifting his gaze from his Mate, who knelt in naked subservience on the bare floor at the foot of the bed.

Eyes downcast, hands at his sides, back rigid, knees placed at the correct angle to allow for nothing hidden – he was perfection.

Had the moment not required serious discipline, the Marquis knew he would have instantly softened all the tightly held rage and personal embarrassment that his Slave had so thoughtlessly brought to him.

Kai had not failed him so, in a very long while indeed, which forced him to wonder whether his Mate was subconsciously desirous of the punishments to come.

Nothing had to be said.

Kai knew that apologizing was pointless.

So too were excuses.

None were required.

None would be accepted.

He would scream when it was permitted, and that would serve due purpose.

But not before he suffered.

The Marquis took even strides toward his Slave, with slow, steady purpose, stopping only when he knew the toes of his immaculate, hand-stitched Italian loafers were within sight of Kai’s unflinching vision.

The pause that followed was exquisite.

In his right hand he already carried the cane that would mark its correcting fire on Kai’s buttocks, and he was tempted to tap it impatiently on his own thigh as a warning.  

But Kai knew what was required, and with a grace that belied his physical build, he bent forward, palms flat on the floor to either side of his Master’s feet.

And with great reverence he placed a kiss on the toe of each shoe.

It was a fine beginning indeed.

“Are you writing all this down?” he asked, unsure about being in such close confines with so terrible a stench, even though he had been subjected to his own fair share of appalling smells and dreadful sufferings down the many long centuries of his life.

“Of course!” she replied, horrified to imagine that such a situation might come her way and she be remiss enough not to document its entirety.  “I might not yet be aware of who exactly would benefit from it, but I am not prepared to lose sight of the significance of this poor man’s injuries.”  Arianne had never truly seen such a thing, even in her own long experiences, and she was still somewhat struggling to reconcile her patient’s tenacious desire to live, with the all consuming nature of what he had thus far endured.

Several times, during the worst moments, when no sedation had been able to keep him at ease or free him of pain, she had begged him go to God and end his torments, for he was indeed a man of the strongest faith.  Yet he had refused, no matter the consequence to himself

It made her wonder who exactly he was punishing.

His reasons for being thrust into her care, were hard enough to understand for one not particularly well versed in the ways of either politics or current social thinking.

Not that she was a fool.

Not by any means.

She was simply a woman raised to mind her business, leave the ways of men to those who could maintain them – whatever their ills – and do as she had been chosen by the powers of providence to do.

She was a healer.

And from that she took great contentment.

The rest was of little concern.

Or so she’d imagined.

Until there before her, lay a corpse refusing to die.

Though at one point she had figured it rather generous to even think of him in corpse-like terms, when he was but a fraction of anything immediately resembling life.

That he bore her husband’s face, had itself been made all the more shocking by those who carried him into her home, as they too were quite clearly of the same kin.

Stubborn then indeed, was her husband’s blood.

It was he who had taught her reading and writing, for until the day he discovered her to be incapable of either, she had simply retained her learning in her head, carrying all she had experienced and come to understand, in the very same way her mother had, and her own mother before that, seeing no other need to instruct anyone else once her people forced her into the forest and left her there condemned as a witch, to perish at the vengeful hands of the winter’s cold.

Fate had destined her life to a different path than the one men once thought to grant, and whilst she’d thrived upon being left to her own devices, it had taken her Mate to finally unlock the strange mysteries of reading and writing for her, that she might eventually keep record of all that she knew, and then aid others in need of her medicines.

Poor Quintus had often been hard pressed to keep her well supplied with the necessary tools, and he had learned to make a great many writing implements for her, from stylus and pencil, to tablet and paper.  For she recognized the virtue of her continued crafts, and the need to leave instruction for anyone who might think to follow her path some day.

“He will live?” Quintus asked, not especially shocked at whose face he found himself staring at the night her newest patient arrived, but the man was of red hair, and he already knew that those with such coloring were more naturally inclined to tolerate pains with ease.

Although they also tolerated fools with great temper.

“In his place, so too would you,” she replied.

For the first few weeks she had barely left the man’s side, and been eager to assure him when he woke, that he was never alone in any of his anguish.

As time had gone on, Quintus fashioned various means for preventing him from causing any further harm to his damaged parts, and had expressed a certain fascination with the healing processes he could see occurring.

“As a human, without the benefits of our extraordinary nature, there would be no returning,” he muttered, “but as he is, he is.”

“And he is remarkable,” Arianne admitted.  “Worthy of your blood line, husband.”

“And your tears, woman.  I have heard you grieve for him.  I have felt it.”  He put her left hand over his chest.  “Would that I had you by my side when first I was myself returned from the dead.”

“You torture was but brief compared to his.”

Quintus nodded sagely.  “Ay, there’s the truth of it.”

“You ask me daily if he will continue to fight, and I tell you daily, yes.  His body and it’s workings already fill several of those books you brought me from the city.  I will need a good deal more before we are done.”

“And you shall have them, of course.  One day there will be those who find your work of highest value.  I don’t doubt it for an instant.”

“One day,” she mused, “when men no longer value life the ounce and death by the pound.”

Quintus kissed the top of her head as she turned from him back to her patient.  “One day,” he answered firmly.  “One day.”

Arianne had the patience of a Saint, but then Wesley was one of the few who knew the true identity of her Mate, so he understood how she’d coped all those years.  It was a secret few would ever know. 

Whenever he and Guido came home to them though, they’d bring boxes of gifts from Italy, and lavish them with all kinds of treats.

Arianne did love her notebooks and journals.

As far as Wesley was concerned, they deserved the very best for keeping his Mate in the world, when to every rational intent he ought to have been long gone.  In fact, his gratitude was often hard to fully express in terms that could be readily accepted, but Arianne knew, and her patience with the pair of them never failed, even when they’d still been working their respective ways through the early stage of their Mating Bond, learning about each other’s particular needs and desires, and how to cope with their histories together.

It hadn’t exactly been simple, but then he didn’t imagine it was easy for anyone, no matter the circumstances of their meeting, or the baggage they brought with them.  The centuries since then, had permitted him a finely honed sense for when his Mate’s emotional state was reaching collapse, and he would, if at all possible, ship the two of them safely to the isolation of the Scottish Highlands where silence, open space, and crisp fresh air were guaranteed to cleanse almost every Soul of it’s ills.

Sometimes however, there was nothing better than to be surrounded on all sides by the most comforting of things, in the surety of absolute safety.  And this had become one such moment as Guido’s increasing agitation and sleepless frustration roiled through their Bond like an approaching hurricane.

Wesley had, years ago, come to accept that he could do nothing to prevent it, but he could certainly curtail it, and one of the most satisfying ways to do so, was the pillow fort.

His Sire had first suggested it back in a time when it didn’t actually have such a cute sounding name.  But no matter the modern connotations, it worked brilliantly at defusing the dreadful mixture of socially enhanced pressure, anger, and abhorrent self-loathing that Guido could only contain for so long.

Arianne watched him then from the living room doorway, as the space they’d made in the middle of the floor was steadily transformed into a veritable pillow fort work of art, that she rather liked to think of as more like a ‘pillow cavern’.

It took just about every cushion in the house, several sheets, and the contents of her blanket chest to construct.

Wesley then added a string of softly colored LED lights that gave the whole thing a warm glow on the inside, and he finished it off with a tray of his Mate’s favorite snacks and some of their favorite oils for various and sundry purposes.

“Perfect?” she asked.

“Yep!”  He beamed proudly.

“You’re a Master Fort Builder,” she assured him.  “And just in time too.”  She could hear her own Mate back from having dragged Guido out on a long, and hopefully exhausting walk.  “Go upstairs and get changed.  They’ll be in shortly.”

Wesley kissed her on the cheek as he dashed past her, and she closed the living room door firmly, so as not to spoil the surprize.

Whatever it took to keep her boys contented, she was totally good with.  She just hoped her occasionally dense husband caught on to what was happening, before giving the game away.

Thankfully, however, the noble Roman she’d managed to corral in the kitchen, didn’t realize anything was amiss until he plonked himself down on one of the barstools and grunted in pain as his backside met wood with nothing in between to soften the blow.

By that time, Guido was safely ensconced in the ‘Pillow Fort of Epicness’, being slowly stripped naked by his linen shirt and leather pants clad Mate, who was lingering over every inch of him, and drawing him steadily into a haze of sensual comfort that swept away all the fears and torments of the past before they could became far too real again.

Their Bond was positively aflame, as kisses deepened and skin was laid bare to the finest of touches.

Wesley knew what Guido needed was to be reminded that his body was capable of so much more than pain, and with all the time in the world at their disposal, nothing could pressure them to hasten or doubt.

No one could reach them.

Touch them.

Stop them.

They were as one in that place, always together, always united.

There was some teasing and a little laughter to break tensions, but there was no physical restraint, no hurt, no torture.

Wesley had learned well from Master David how to build desire using every single inch of Guido’s body to explore along the way, with hands, lips, and tongue, until he had his Mate whimpering, purring and climaxing without effort or stress.

It was fun to challenge himself so, given that his own sexual predilections leaned firmly toward more painful lusts and violent fucking, and he rather enjoyed the release from being taken hard and spanked into submission.

Guido too had learned many lessons in helping him achieve such a desire.  But that was for another day entirely.

Wesley had to concentrate on his Mate’s needs above all else at that point, without getting carried away in the wrong direction.  Though he had to admit, straddling Guido’s waist as his ass was cupped by those big, solid hands of his and squeezed through his leather pants, that he was craving any and all expression of their mutual need for each other, whether soft and slow, or rough and hard.

“I want to be inside you,” Guido murmured, when his caresses had the desired effect on Wesley’s increasingly rampant cock.

He loved the sensation of those deliciously soft pants against his own bare flesh, and it had already gotten him hard just being naked under Wesley’s oh, so very innocent gaze.  For there had never been a time when his Mate had failed to look upon him with a very special sense of reverent awe.

Not that Guido felt his deserved it.

Far from it.

Yet Wesley insisted that he would rather worship on his knees before his Mate, than do so at any other man’s bidding, regardless of faith.

And so Wesley took his time wriggling out of his clothes, teasing and grinding over his Mate’s erection, until they lay, skin to skin, panting slightly.

“I’m already prepped for you,” he whispered, licking a path down Guido’s neck.

They had always used rich scented oils as part of the sensuous experience, but there were times when he surprized his Mate with pressed olive oil, or grapeseed that had virtually no smell.  And it pleased him greatly when Guido chuckled dirtily.

Rising up, he positioned his Mate’s swollen cock head at his willing hole, and lingered there, watching Guido’s expression, a soft smile on his face.

“I love you,” he murmured, bracing his hands on Guido’s abdomen as he sank back down with a slow, steady self-control that had taken him some considerable practice to master without shaking or trembling.

It was infinitely pleasurable, and so well worth the play of emotions that crossed their Bond in the process.

Guido gripped his Mate’s buttocks possessively when he was fully inside the tight warmth of Wesley’s body.  “I love you,” he said softly in reply.  “So much.  So very much…”

And the wave of unspoken gratitude that flooded through them both, was enough to bring tears fast behind it.

“I know,” Wesley whispered, bending to kiss his lover’s fluttering eyes.  “Let me take care of you.”

And he always would. 

He had sworn it before Father Kiernan in a tiny chapel in Rome when they’d first been struggling to reconcile faith with need, and past with future.

He’d never broken that vow.

Not once.

And he swore it again as he tightened himself on the rigid flesh buried inside his body.

It would be ever so.

Just the two of them.

Safely together.