MxS for Heart

MxS for Heart

\"Don\'t forget to lock the door when you find that memo,\" Yawned Hopcyn Smith as he slid into his bed, long and slender legs vanishing beneath a mass of quilts and comforters and blankets.

\"Alright...\" Was the half-hearted reply from Professor Alphonse Murda, who currently sat upon a stool beside Cyn\'s desk, shuffling through papers.

Mr. Smith rolled over with a quiet sigh, sinking into his bed contently, and then all was silent. A pause for a few seconds, and he rolled over again, only to be halted by the presence of another body.

\"Prof--\" Cyn attempted to protest, only to have his argument swallowed by the taller man\'s clever mouth. He was pressed beneath his assailant and, like every time they embraced, Hopcyn was amazed at how well their bodies meshed together.

When Murda finally moved his ministrations from Cyn\'s mouth to his ear, the teacher began his protest over again.

\"Stop it, Professor!\" Alphonse vaguely noted that Hopcyn still, even in the most intimate of situations, referred to him as \'Professor\'. \"I have class tomorrow at seven forty!\"

Professor ignored him, nipping at his earlobe.

\"I-it\'s already past midni..ight,\" He whined, pressing both hands against Murda\'s chest in a feeble attempt to get him to move, \"And u..u..unl..\" Oh dear lord, why did his neck have to be so sensitive? \"unless you want to be ca..called in to substitute my class tomorrow, you need to st-stop.\"

Al bit down on the pulse of the slender neck he was ravishing, at which the shorter man mewled.

\"I have no problem with that, Cyn,\" Al responded in a sultry tone, breathing over the mark. \"I\'m not subbing for anyone tomorrow morning--\"

\"I\'m serious! Get off right this instant!\" Squeaked the teacher, \"I do not plan on STANDING the entire class, either, so you can forget that.\"

This made Professor Murda grin.

\"I\'m being serious, too, Smoo-Smoo. I\'ll sub tomorrow.\"

\"B..u..but I don\'t have the lesson pla..ns out for you to find an...\" Cyn suddenly shook his head, \"No! No. I can\'t believe I\'m even considering this. You can forget it, you horny bastard.\"

\"Horny bastard? I\'m hurt; especially since that\'s coming from a man whose boxer shorts are already suspiciously wet...\"

Cyn gasped as a hand trailed over the front of his night shorts. The gasp quickly turned to a whine, which quickly turned to a moan.

\"Well, Cyn? I promise I\'ll be gentle...\" The professor said, placing delicate kisses on Hopcyn\'s collarbone.

\"You..you\'ve always been gentle with me,\" His voice was weak.

\"Not with you, darling. I\'ll be gentle with your class. But thanks anyway. It\'s good to know I\'m doing my job well.\"

\"O..oh.\" That was as close as Alphonse was going to get to \'YES NOW FUCK ME PLEASE!\', and he knew it, so he wasted no time in leaning up cover Hopcyn\'s mouth with his own.

--

The next morning, Mr. Smith awoke in his fantastically warm bed. His eyelids fluttered in the dim light of the room, and he rolled over. His first thought was, \"Christ, my ass is sore,\" followed quickly by, \"OHSHIT!\"

He sat up hastily and looked to the clock. The green numbers blinked: 8:32AM. Oh GOD.

\"Professor?\" His throat was sore, even. Maybe that gag-ball one of the students mentioned would be a wise investment...screaming for more than a minute was always such a bitch.

More importantly right now was that he got no answer. Scrambling out of bed (and bringing his sheet to tie around his waist), he fumbled to the door that led directly to his classroom. Creaking the door open barely an inch, he peered in.

There was Professor Murda, at the front of the class in a very nice business suit. He tapped the black board and was lechuring on...Faulkner? Good GOD. He was on topic! And on time!

Hopcyn felt himself melt, staring at Murda and leaning against the door.

He...he was always worth it.