One second.
Maybe two.
It really couldn't have been longer than a couple of heartbeats at most, but time doesn't mean anything during that very first kiss.
It feels infinite, eternal. It's a once-in-a-lifetime feeling, where all of the pain and sadness and doubt just sort of fade away, and you're floating in the ocean of the other person, caught in their waves.
Then, one kiss just melts into the next. Your head is so fuzzy that you can't tell where one ends and the other begins, and you pull each other closer, getting even more lost in the ocean as you allow the tide to take you both away.
Your chest burns and screams at you to pull away for air, but you don't; too afraid that even the smallest breath will cause it all to wash away.
Besides, who needs oxygen when you're finally sharing a kiss with him?
Certainly not Ozzy.
He barely even noticed the tightening in his chest and the dizziness in his head. All he was aware of in that moment were the fingers curling into the back of his neck, the sound of Professor Roja shifting further forwards in his seat to press their chests together, the vibration on his lips as he softly hummed against them, before their mouths eagerly slotted together again.
This kiss was hungrier, more desperate, and Ozzy opened his mouth slightly as he felt the tip of the professor's tongue gently nudge his lower lip.
Despite the alcohol and desire coursing through him, Professor Roja was still fully, painfully aware of himself. Even his intoxicated state couldn't distract him from the fact that it wasn't just anyone's mouth against his. It was Ozzy's, his student's.
It was wrong of him, so fucking wrong, and his brain was screaming at him to pull away and put a stop to this right now before it went any further, but any rational thought went straight out of the window as Ozzy opened his mouth slightly to moan against his lips, his breath a mix of sweet and smoky from the Coke and whiskey.
The professor groaned - a low, guttural rumble deep in his throat - and grazed his tongue against Ozzy's bottom lip once again, more a question than a demand. Ozzy opened up to him immediately, tilting his head back and sighing as he felt the professor's tongue against his own, all warm and wet and soft.
He took in a deep, shuddering breath then as he felt him lightly scrape his claws against the nape of his neck and deepen the kiss further with his tongue, before pushing up to drag it over the roof of his mouth.
And it was delicious, disorienting, dizzying. Everything Ozzy had ever hoped it would be, but somehow even better.
Professor Roja seemed to feel the same way, now wrapping a hand around Ozzy's waist and holding the back of his head with the other, letting the occasional smothered moan vibrate against his mouth.
Ozzy melted into him and relaxed his jaw, pushing his tongue up to meet the professor's, and soon it was as if they were devouring each other, the heat spreading down their throats and across their chests, engulfing them both.
They somehow knew exactly what the other one wanted, responding to every touch or movement or sound with just the right amount of pressure, eagerly swallowing every subsequent sigh or moan or whimper.
The professor broke the kiss for a second to gaze into Ozzy's hazy, liquid eyes, before leaning down and pressing their lips together again.
"Ozzy… God… you're so gorgeous. How are you so… fuck," he whispered between kisses, wrapping both arms around Ozzy's waist. He moved his lips to Ozzy's cheek and grazed them over his skin for a moment while he tried to catch his breath. "Don't… don't feel like you have to do this. We can always stop… if you want."
Ozzy lazily shook his head a couple of times. "No…" he whispered, shutting his eyes as he felt the professor drop a few warm, lingering kisses to his cheek, his lips slick with both of their saliva. "I don't want this to stop… ever."
The professor let out a sigh, whispering, "me neither…", as he trailed a few more kisses across his jaw and pulled him even closer, which Ozzy took as an invitation to lift himself off his seat and slide onto his lap.
He pressed his lips to his again, while his hands quickly found their way to his hair, desirously sliding his fingers through his braids.
The professor's previously messy bun was an absolute disaster by this point, with strands of hair sticking out in every direction imaginable, and Ozzy began carefully untangling it from the hair-tie, making his braids fall down and cascade over his shoulders. He tossed the hair-tie to one side and combed his hands through his hair again, pressing his fingertips to his scalp as he went.
The professor sighed against Ozzy's lips, and without skipping a beat, Ozzy repeated the motion, weaving a few strands of hair between his fingers and tugging ever so slightly as the professor slowly ran his hands up and down the curve of his back.
Then, they both felt it; that undeniable, unignorable, unmistakable flood of warm energy pooling below their navels. Their gentle, curious kisses turned more desperate and demanding as the arousal spread through them, until eventually, their breathing became so ragged that they had no choice but to pull away for air.
The professor looked at Ozzy with needy, unfocused eyes, rolling his gaze from his plump, swollen lips to his flushed cheeks, and back again. "We… we can still stop if you want, just say the word and I'll-"
But Ozzy had already pulled him down into another kiss, and the rest of his words were lost, immediately forgotten as he felt Ozzy lift his left leg up to drop it over the other side of his lap to straddle his thighs, shifting forwards as much as possible to press everything together.
He then felt Ozzy's hands move down to his lower back, steadying himself before rolling his hips a few times to grind them against the professor's, causing a breathy, shuddering gasp to escape them both.
The next few moments were a hazy, confusing blur, and before he even knew what was happening, Professor Roja found himself mouthing down Ozzy's throat, using his tongue and lips and teeth to tease moan after moan out of him. Desire flared in him over every gorgeous sound that passed his lips, even more so when he felt Ozzy arch his body into him after his mouth found a particularly sensitive spot just below his jaw.
"G-God…" the professor whispered, nipping at his skin and digging his claws into the soft membrane over the small of Ozzy's back. "You make me insane…"
He trailed open mouthed kisses down towards his collarbone, and Ozzy's breath caught at the sudden scrape of teeth against his pulse. His eyelids fluttered for a second, and he breathed the word "sir", before his fingers found their way into his hair again, strong and curious, holding on so tight it was as if he was afraid it would all fade away in an instant.
"Sir… I've wanted this… wanted you… for so long… ah, fuck! D-do that again."
"You have no idea, Ozzy…" the professor whispered back, sucking a dark purple bruise into the crook of his neck and then pressing a kiss to the same spot. "No fucking idea how long I've waited for you."
Electricity was pulsing over their skin over every kiss, every sigh, every touch, again, and again, and again, and just as the professor thought it couldn't get any better than this, Ozzy pulled away to look deep into his eyes.
"Can we move to the bed?" he asked, his voice all low and breathy and desperate, and how could Professor Roja possibly say no to that?
Before they both knew it, they were falling into bed together, tangled up in each other, their lips melded together and their hands and fingers shamelessly roaming each other's skin.
Professor Roja rolled onto his back and pulled Ozzy on top of him so his legs straddled his waist. Ozzy leaned back slightly, his heavy-lidded eyes firmly stuck on the professor's as he reached down to take the hem of his tank top in his hands, and the professor couldn't help but watch as he started pulling it over his stomach and chest.
The warm light from the lamp weaved its way around every curve and undulation of Ozzy's body, softly shimmering through his membrane and lighting him up like the sun lights a river, and it was breath-taking.
The professor bit his lip as he watched, desperately holding back all the compliments that were attempting to spill out his mouth.
Beautiful.
Gorgeous.
Precious.
I love you.
Fortunately for him, however, he didn't have to hold back long, as the neckline of Ozzy's tank top got stuck around his jaw, probably due to the fact that he had purposefully bought the tightest one he could possibly find in the store.
The professor laughed to himself, before reaching up and taking hold of the top to try and help Ozzy out. They struggled for a second or two, until impatience took over them both, and a quiet but definite ripping sound echoed around the room.
They both stilled, and Ozzy lowered the shirt over his stomach again, looking down at it to see a great big tear down the front.
He laughed and flicked his eyes to meet the professor's, playfully shoving him on the chest with both hands. "C'mon, man! I literally just bought this top!"
The professor's eyes widened. "I'm so sorry! Fuck, I dunno what happened! I'll buy you a new one… I promise!"
Ozzy smirked at that, and leaned down to press a soft kiss to his lips. "Well, in that case, you might as well rip everything off me, I mean, if you're buyin'."
"You cheeky little shit," the professor replied with a laugh, before grabbing Ozzy by the hips and throwing him down on the bed, forcing a gasp out of him. He kneeled down between his thighs and traced the hem of his tank top with one claw, lifting it up slightly to get a glimpse of his stomach, before dragging his claw upwards and ripping his top straight down the middle.
Ozzy smiled and bit his lip, wiggling himself out of his torn tank top and tossing it to the floor. He was all too aware of the professor's gaze rolling over his bare chest and stomach, slow and deliberate and yearning, and he grabbed his chin to make him look back up at his face.
"Hey, my eyes are up here," he lulled, letting go of his chin as the professor moved up the bed, his face now hovering just above Ozzy's.
He dug his forearms into the sheets by Ozzy's shoulders and leaned down to kiss him, and Ozzy rolled his eyes shut as he waited for their mouths to slot together again.
But they didn't. Ozzy waited a second or two, before frowning and flicking his eyes back open to see that the professor had stilled just above his lips, barely a breath apart, a big grin across his face.
"Mhm?" was all Ozzy said, cocking his head as he gazed up at him, his eyes half-lidded and innocent, giving Professor Roja a look that made him want to eat him whole.
Fuck. Yep, this kid's gonna be the death of me.
He dropped his head and pressed their lips together while moving his hands to his face to cup his cheeks, sighing as Ozzy arched up into him and parted his lips, almost as an invitation.
And of course Professor Roja accepted, pressing his thumbs on Ozzy's jaw to force his mouth open wider and running his tongue over his in a long, broad stroke.
Ozzy moaned, relaxing his jaw and melting into the kiss, and the professor sunk lower, pressing Ozzy's body deeper into the bed with his own. It was intense, possessive, like he couldn't get enough of him, now grabbing at his waist to pull him impossibly closer, needing the feel of his body under his palms, needing to know that this was real.
He slid his hand down the curve of his body, dragging the tips of his claws over his skin, and Ozzy shivered, his skin so sensitive and soft and supple under the professor's touch. It was almost too much - his palms burning like fire on his skin and his fingers sharp like razor blades as they were slowly dragged over his hip bones - but God, did it feel so, so good.
His hands flew down to the waistband of his pants, tugging impatiently at his fly, desperate to have the professor's attention lower. He eased his pants down over his pelvis, digging his heels into the mattress and lifting his hips off the bed as the professor helped him, shifting back slightly and pulling his pants over his ankles before finally tossing them to one side and leaning down to press a kiss to the curve of his neck.
Ozzy tilted his head back, opening himself up to him, and reached down again to unbuckle the professor's belt. He gasped then as his palm accidentally brushed against something hard and warm - deliciously, shockingly warm - but the professor shushed him and buried his nose into his scent, nuzzling the crook of his neck and humming into his skin.
"I love having you like this…" he whispered, his breath dragging across his skin as he pressed kiss after kiss to the hollow of his throat. "You feel so fucking good."
"So do you…" Ozzy replied, quickly frowning as something suddenly dawned on him. He actually had no idea what the professor felt like under his clothes. Here he was, lying underneath him on his bed with nothing but his boxers on, all exposed and open and vulnerable, while the professor hadn't even taken off his tie yet, and how is that fair?
The fucking audacity.
His breath caught as he felt the professor mouth up his throat towards his jaw, and his fingers tangled in his braids, while the other hand made its way to his tie. He clumsily fiddled with the knot to undo it, before moving his hand to the first few buttons on his shirt, but the professor shook his head and grabbed onto Ozzy's wrist.
"N-no, Ozzy. Don't."
Ozzy frowned and pulled his arm away. "Why not?"
He felt a sigh spread across his skin, before Professor Roja pushed himself up onto his elbows to look him in the eye. "Because… you look so good… and I look so… I don't want you to see me like this."
Ozzy stilled for a second as realisation dawned on him, his eyes widening slightly. The professor wasn't being selfish or mean by not removing his clothes. It was because he was embarrassed. Embarrassed and ashamed of what he looked like, and Ozzy let his arm drop to his chest as he felt his heart sink.
Oh.
"I want to look good for you. I don't want you to see me like this, with my body how it is now. I haven't had much time to take care of myself lately, what with all the stress I've been under with midterms coming up and all the NAV bullshit and-"
"Sir," Ozzy interrupted, trailing his fingertips over the small of his back. "You don't gotta worry about that. I love how you look. You're, like, the most attractive guy I've ever seen."
The professor frowned and looked away, dark red tinting his cheekbones. "Pfft… you don't have to lie."
"I'm not!" He pressed his fingers into the soft flesh above the professor's hips. "You're literally the only guy I've ever been interested in! You practically turned me gay, sir! That's how hot you are."
"You can't be turned gay, Oz," Professor Roja replied, a small smirk replacing his frown as he turned his head to face Ozzy again, before he suddenly realised something.
Oh… OH.
"Wait… did you just say that I'm the only guy you've ever…? Does that mean that you ain't…? That you're a…?" He swallowed the lump now rising in his throat, and tried again. "Have you never been with another guy before?"
Ozzy's smile faded into a frown, and now it was his turn to look away. "Uhm… no, not exactly."
"Oh…" was all the professor managed to say in response, staring down at Ozzy and blinking. The line between his eyebrows deepened, and he took in a steady breath, trying to calm the pounding in his chest and the throbbing between his legs.
FUCK.
His blood turned cold as panic spiked through him, and he leaned back onto his knees, his eyes wide and his shoulders tense as he stared off at nothing in particular.
He's a virgin. Of course he is, you disgusting, perverted piece of shit. He's half your age, a fucking kid, not to mention your student! But what did you go and do? You paid for him to come on this trip with you, flirted with him the whole time, invited him to your fucking hotel room, plied him with glass after glass of whiskey, and now… oh FUCK.
"Sir, are you alright?" Ozzy asked, his tone quiet as he lifted himself up onto his elbows. The professor didn't respond, so Ozzy sat up and cautiously made his way over to where he was now sitting, kneeling in front of him and taking his hand in his own.
Professor Roja snapped his head around to look Ozzy in the eyes and gripped hard onto his hand, taking in a sharp breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't even think. I just assumed you would've… but of course you haven't. God, and now you must think that I… Ozzy, listen, I promise I didn't do this on purpose. It wasn't some big scheme to get you drunk or anything. It just happened, I swear, I never expected any of this to happen," he babbled, unable to get the words out fast enough, but Ozzy simply gave his hand a squeeze.
"I know," he assured, smiling warmly. There was a pause then, before Ozzy narrowed his eyes and said, "you don't feel bad about this, do you? Because you shouldn't. It was as much my doing as it was yours."
The professor nodded, and Ozzy frowned. "Why do you feel bad, though?"
"How can I not? You're so young, and you're my student, Ozzy. Don't you remember what I told you in the park? We can't be together. It's just too complicated. There are so many reasons and laws and rules against-"
Suddenly, he felt a finger being pressed to his lips, muffling whatever he was about to say next, and he stared at Ozzy with wide eyes, confused over why he was now smiling and shaking his head.
"And don't you remember what I said to you that night? 'A bit of rule breakin' every once in a while is good for ya.' And fuck, breakin' this one feels pretty damn good, don't it?"
"But-"
"Shush. I don't care about what the fuckin' FPD says. You're literally all I've been able to think about since the beginning of term, sir. You had me tossin' and turnin' late into every night, unable to sleep because I couldn't get you off my mind, doing whatever I could to get your attention and actin' like a fucking freak the whole semester, all over you."
The professor smiled against his finger and relaxed his posture, and Ozzy pressed harder on his lips. "So, don't feel bad, okay? I want this just as much as you do, trust me," he uttered, before withdrawing his hand and sighing softly.
There was a brief moment of silence then, until Ozzy leaned in closer and smirked. "Y'know what would feel really, really good right now?"
"Hm?" the professor asked, his tone calm despite the screaming in his head. "What's that?"
Ozzy's smile grew, before he edged backwards and lay down on the bed, letting his head sink into the soft pillow below. "A hug," he said plainly, raising his arms in the air and gesturing for the professor to join him. "C'mere and I'll give you a hug, if ya like."
There was a pause, before the professor nodded and crawled up the bed to lay beside Ozzy. He cautiously rested his head on his chest, taking care not to press his cheekbones too harshly into his skin, and smiled as he felt Ozzy circle his arms around his shoulders.
"There, what did I tell ya? Feels good, don't it?"
The professor replied with a noise that could only be described as a purr, and he closed his eyes and sunk into Ozzy's chest, exhaling all the anxiety previously swirling around him.
They stayed like this for a few moments, before Ozzy sighed and squeezed on the professor's shoulders. "Sorry."
The professor tilted his head slightly to look up at him, furrowing his brow. "Why are you sorry?"
"Because we didn't… y'know. I know how much you wanted to… but I ruined everything, like always."
"Tsk, you didn't ruin anything, Ozzy. Trust me, this right here, is all I ever wanted."
Ozzy smiled and looked down at him. "You invited me up here so I'd give you a hug?"
"Pfft, I didn't invite you up here for any reason other than to spend time with you. The hugging and… everything else, is just a happy lil addition to the evening."
"Like squirty cream on a chocolate cake."
The professor laughed. "Yeah, exactly like that."
They lay there in silence for a few moments, just listening to the sound of each other breathing, until the professor pulled Ozzy closer to him and uttered, "mhm, you were right, this does feel good."
"Told ya. Ain't no one ever hugged you before?"
The professor nuzzled his face into Ozzy's chest and shook his head. "Not like this."
"Not even your mom when you were a kid?"
Ozzy heard him sigh then, and dropped a kiss to his forehead. "I'm guessin' your mom wasn't the hugging type?"
"Nah, she was more the 'doing whatever it took to shut us up' type."
"Oh, so you have brothers and sisters, then?"
Another sigh, and Ozzy tightened his grip around his shoulders. "Okay, we don't have to talk about this now, sorry." He raised a hand to run his finger up and down the little crease between the professor's brows, smiling as he felt him relax into him again.
A few minutes passed, and the professor felt himself drifting off to sleep, his head lolling back and his body sinking into the mattress below, when Ozzy suddenly shifted and cleared his throat.
"Can I stay here tonight?"
The professor's eyelids slowly blinked open, and he nodded and pressed a kiss to Ozzy's chest. "Of course. Yes." Another kiss to his chest. "Did you really think I was gonna let you leave?"
Ozzy laughed and pushed a lock of the professor's hair out of his face. "Oh, so I'm a hostage?"
"I wouldn't go that far. But there was no way you weren't staying here tonight."
"Okay, whatever you say," he replied, running a finger over a faint line in his forehead. "What's this from?"
"What?"
"This lil scar here. It looks old. Is it from when you were a kid?"
He felt the professor stiffen in his arms again, so he leaned down to drop a few kisses over the scar. "Sorry, I'll stop prying."
"No, it's okay," he replied, taking in a deep breath and doing his best to make his muscles relax. "I don't remember how old I was, but I was young, probably around 5 or 6, I dunno. We were hiding out in this body that my momma wanted to take down, a healthy middle aged man with four kids and a wife. She loved a kill like that; one that would hurt as many humans as possible."
"That's awful," Ozzy said quietly, pulling the professor closer to him.
"Mhm, but anyway, we were lying low in this abandoned building, and me and my older brother were playing, trying to see who was stronger. He must've been a bit too rough with me though, because I suddenly started crying, and the last thing you want by your side when you're hiding from immunity is a crying kid alerting them of your whereabouts."
"God, so your mom did that to you to get you to shut up?"
"No, she made my brother do it." He lifted his hand and gently dragged a claw across his forehead, making a ripping sound with his mouth. "I'm sure he didn't wanna do it, but he knew better than to go against her, and I quickly learned to shut my mouth after that."
He let his arm fall down by his side, and Ozzy pulled him closer again, lifting a leg to wrap it around his waist. "I'm sorry," was all he could think to say, and the professor shook his head.
"It's all in the past, Ozzy. Don't worry. I'm good now. Really good." He ran his claws up and down the space between Ozzy's shoulder blades and smiled. "Thank you… for listening."
Ozzy nodded and pressed a kiss to his forehead. A comfortable silence fell between them, neither one of them needing to fill it, until the professor rolled back slightly to look up at Ozzy.
"Also, I wanted to say sorry if you felt rushed or pressured before. I was caught up in the moment, and you looked so good, plus the alcohol, I dunno." He lifted his head off the bed and rested it on one of his hands, looking up into Ozzy's eyes. "You can always tell me things. Don't ever feel like you can't tell me something, even if you think it'll make me mad, or upset. I want us to be completely honest with each other."
Ozzy nodded and hummed in agreement, but the professor shook his head.
"I mean it. I don't want you to regret anything with me, Ozzy. Not tonight, not ever. Promise me you'll always tell me if I fuck up."
Ozzy paused for a second, before smiling and raising his little finger. "Pinky swear on it? A promise can't get more serious than that," he said, and the professor laughed, intertwining his claw with his finger.
He lay his head back down on the pillow and stared into Ozzy's eyes, letting a huge grin spread over his face. "So tell me, now that you can't lie, are you really gonna be staying here tonight with me?"
"Well, yeah. In a toss up between a shitty little crib at the foot of Drix's bed, or this luxury hotel suite, I think the choice is pretty obvious."
The professor laughed and lightly shoved Ozzy on the shoulder. "You're such a little gold digger, you know that, Jones?"
"You're no better, sugar daddy Roja. You've been shamelessly flashin' your cash at me from the moment we met, hopin' to get a little somethin'-somethin' from me."
"Ohh, I see how it is. In that case, that lil 430 Calorie gift is now officially a loan, and I want repayments on my desk every single week until it's all paid off, with interest."
"Hey, no way, man! You gave it to me, it's not like I went to a bank and asked to borrow all that cash!"
The professor waved a hand in the air and rolled onto his back, smirking and shutting his eyes. "Mhm, whatever you say, babyface."
Ozzy laughed at that nickname and shuffled closer to him again. "Speakin' of borrowin'..." he said, walking two fingers over the professor's shoulder, "d'ya have any pyjamas I could borrow for tonight? Since I'm gonna be sleepin' here, and all."
"Do I look like the kinda guy who wears pyjamas?"
Ozzy tutted. "Why can't you just gimme a straight answer for once?"
The professor frowned and opened his eyes again, turning his head to face him. "Uff, fine. Yeah, I'm sure I have something for you, though I doubt anything'll fit your tiny ass."
Ozzy laughed loudly at that, and slapped the professor on the shoulder as he sat up. "You're always so mean to me!"
"How's that mean? You are tiny. It's not like it's a bad thing," he retorted, sliding off the bed and making his way over to the wardrobe. "I personally think it's cute."
Ozzy rolled his eyes and swung his legs over to the edge of the bed to stand up. He grabbed his torn tank top from the floor and hissed, before tossing it in the trash can to the side and walking over to where the professor was now looking through his clothes. He stood next to him as he waited, rolling his weight from his heels to the balls of his feet and quietly humming. "So if you don't have any pyjamas, what do you wear in bed?"
"A lacy thong and sock suspenders," the professor replied bluntly, and Ozzy's eyes widened as a million images of him sprawled out on his bed wearing nothing but a pair of Victoria's Secret underwear raced through his mind.
The professor turned his head to look down at him, and a big grin spread across his face. "I'm kidding. I usually don't wear anything to bed if I'm honest, but I'll put on a top and some loose pants tonight if it makes you feel more comfortable."
Ozzy nodded, and the professor held out a black, long-sleeved top for him to take. "Here you go, just make sure not to rip this one," he uttered, and Ozzy snatched it from him with a smirk.
"I can't make any promises," he replied, slipping the shirt over his head. He turned and looked at himself in the wardrobe mirror, grinning over how the bottom of the shirt practically reached down to his knees and the hem of the sleeves flopped all the way over his hands.
"I look ridiculous, it's like I'm wearing a fucking dress!"
"Hmm…", the professor said, looking him up and down. "I actually like you like that. Turn around for me?"
"Literally fuck you, sir," Ozzy replied with a laugh, shoving him on the shoulder, but the professor grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him into his chest.
"You can, if you want," he lulled, wrapping an arm around his waist as he leaned down and pressed their lips together. He hummed into his kiss, before pulling away and looking into Ozzy's eyes, his smile fading slightly. "Did you really mean it before when you said you liked the way I look?"
Ozzy frowned for a second, confused. "What are you… oh, you mean your body?"
"Mhm."
"Sir, of course I meant it! Have you seen yourself?" Ozzy said with a grin, prodding him in the side. "Look at your chest, and your arms, and your shoulders for Frank's sake! You literally look like you never leave the gym. Okay, maybe you're slightly… thicker than you were at the beginning of term, but I like it. It looks good on ya." He reached round and grabbed two handfuls of flesh, kneading his skin with his fingers. "Feels good, too."
Professor Roja laughed and squeezed Ozzy tighter into him, running his claws through his hair. "I'm gonna get changed too… Can you help me with my shirt, like you did before?"
The professor yawned and switched off his bedside lamp, before rolling over and shuffling closer to Ozzy. He pulled him into his chest and wrapped his arms around him, frowning as the bright light from his phone shone directly into his eyes.
He buried his face into the nape of his neck and groaned, tightening his grip around his waist. "Oz, can you turn your phone off and come here?", he asked, but Ozzy shook his head.
"Just gimme a minute, I'm tryna write a text to Drips about where I am right now. It's gotta be believable."
The professor kissed him on the back of the neck and sighed. "Just say that you felt sick and called your uncle to take you home… or something."
"No, that won't work, because he'll see me on the bus tomorrow and know I lied."
"Oh yeah… good point." Another sigh. "Okay, why don't you just tell him that you met someone while you were out, and you're gonna spend the night with them? That way you're not technically lying. Just don't mention that it's your teacher, and we should be okay."
Ozzy smiled and started typing, and the professor lifted his head to make sure he wasn't saying anything too incriminating. He squinted in the light from his screen and started to read what Ozzy had written.
'Waddup Drips, I've met a hot chick and we're really vibing right now, so imma be spending the night at her pad… ya dig?' The professor leaned in closer and frowned. 'Stay chill, pill, see ya on the flip side.'
He huffed out a laugh and pressed his face to Ozzy's neck again, smiling to himself as he heard him finally leave his phone on the nightstand.
Ozzy rolled over to face the professor and lay his head on his shoulder, bringing one arm up to draw random slow patterns on his chest with his fingers. "God, you're so warm."
The professor pulled away slightly, asking, "is it too much?", but Ozzy followed him and sunk further into his heat.
"No, it's nice."
There was a brief silence between them, with both of them running their fingers over the other's back, when the professor leaned down to press a kiss to Ozzy's forehead. "Y'know… I'm actually kinda glad we didn't end up doing anything tonight. I think it'll be nice to take things slow with you."
Ozzy tilted his head back slightly to look up at him, and smiled. "Yeah, I'd like that. I usually jump head first into things without thinkin', so that sounds nice."
"Great," the professor replied, pushing Ozzy's curls back with his hand. "I'm normally the same way, never taking enough time to actually enjoy anything. I don't want it to be that way with you."
"So it's decided. We'll take things slow and won't rush into anything. Deal?"
The professor lifted his smallest claw in front of Ozzy's face and smirked. "Deal."
A warm sunlight trickled through the windows of the hotel room and spilled over the bed, and the professor's eyes slowly blinked open.
Mornings were often hard for him. Following a night haunted by nightmares and flashbacks, he'd wake up to the sound of his own voice calling out for help, or of the bed sheets tearing under his claws. He would stare at the ceiling while his breathing returned to normal, his eyes wide and his arms tightly wrapped around his shoulders, before he would then force himself to sit up and hold his head in his hands, wishing he hadn't even woken up at all.
Today, however, on a random Saturday morning in the middle of October, all of that seemed like a distant memory. He smiled as he looked down at the way Ozzy was still tangled up with him, a plump cheek pressed to his shoulder and one leg draped over his thighs while his chest softly rose and fell. A picture of bliss; a visual metaphor for how Professor Roja was feeling right now.
His head was thumping and his stomach slightly bloated from last night's alcohol, nothing he wasn't used to at this point in his life, but he felt so, so good.
He watched as Ozzy mumbled something incoherent under his breath, before turning his head to bury his face into his chest, and all the fear, anxiety and self-loathing the professor was so used to feeling every morning softly faded into something entirely different.
Acceptance. Safety. Love. Home.
He didn't know what time it was, and he didn't have the slightest interest in finding out. Time and obligations and schedules didn't exist anymore. All that mattered was him, and he tightened his grip around his shoulders, while gently running his claws up and down the nape of his neck.
He watched as Ozzy's eyes fluttered open, all misty and liquid and dark like chocolate, and the professor wondered how it was even possible for someone to look that good. He smiled at him, before leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. "Good morning, baby."
I love you.
"Mnnng, mornin'," Ozzy croaked, leaning into the kiss and sighing. He snaked a hand up the professor's back and sunk it into his hair, scratching over his scalp a few times. "Mhm, this is nice."
"What is?" the professor asked, dropping a few kisses to one of his temples.
"Waking up with you. I like it."
The professor smiled and pulled him closer, nuzzling into the top of his head. "Me too."
They stayed like this for a few moments, before Ozzy titled his head back to look up at him and uttered, "what time is it?"
"I have absolutely no idea."
And for the first time, the professor regretted the size of the bed, because it meant that Ozzy had to move painfully far away to grab his phone.
"6:45," he mumbled, leaving the phone on the nightstand and rolling back into the professor's chest. "I think this is the earliest I've ever been awake on a Saturday." He stretched a bit, arching his back and scrunching up his face. "You snore in your sleep, by the way."
The professor laughed at that. "As opposed to the people who snore when they're awake?"
"Shut up, y'know what I mean." He lifted his head and frowned. "I'm hungry. Is there anything to eat around here?"
"Uhm… there's all that sushi we left on the table last night," the professor replied, and Ozzy scrunched up his face, before burying it back into his chest.
"How about I go out and buy us something? While I'm at it I can look for a shirt for you too. How does that sound?"
Ozzy shook his head and pulled him closer. "No, I'm so comfy. We can just get room service or something."
"What, and have the hotel staff come in and find out that we spent the night together? I don't think so." He kissed Ozzy on the top of the head and held him close for a moment, before rolling onto his back and sitting up. "I won't be long. You go back to sleep, or you're welcome to take a shower if you want. I'll be right back, I promise."
The professor slotted his key into the door and stepped inside the hotel room. He smiled when he heard the sound of Ozzy softly humming away to himself in the bathroom, and he left the food on the dining table, before taking off his jacket and hanging it up in the wardrobe.
He set about clearing the table of last night's sushi and whiskey, replacing it with some chocolate croissants and two cups of coffee.
Moving around to the other side of the table, he slumped down in the chair and crossed his legs, tilting his head back and shutting his eyes as he listened to Ozzy's happy singing coming from the bathroom.
He felt himself drifting off again, but was suddenly woken up by the click of the bathroom door opening. He turned his head to tell Ozzy about something funny that had happened to him on the way back to his room, but his words got stuck as his breath hitched in his throat. His eyes drifted over the entirety of his body, from the tips of his toes to the top of his head, and if he wasn't already sitting down, he probably would have collapsed.
Boxers pressed tight to his body, the fabric wet in all the right places, his skin soft and shiny and flushed from the hot shower, and his hair a tousled mess as he attempted to dry it with a towel. Some steam from the bathroom had followed him out through the door and risen around him, and even though the professor wasn't a religious man, right now he was more than willing to sink to his knees and pray.
Ozzy flashed him a smile and opened his mouth to say something, but he didn't have time to get a single word out before he felt two hands grab him around the waist and force him backwards onto the bed.
The professor pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat and breathed him in, driven mad by the smell of Ozzy mixing oh so perfectly with his shampoo and soap. He dragged his tongue up the front of his neck and over his jaw, while Ozzy's hands made their way to his collar to unbutton his shirt, and this time, the professor didn't stop him.
He leaned back slightly so Ozzy could undo the last few buttons, before tearing his shirt off himself and throwing it behind him. He pressed his body against Ozzy's again, his skin all lovely and wet from the shower, and kissed him hard, forcing his mouth open by pressing his thumbs to his jaw.
Ozzy's hands made their way into the professor's hair, and he tugged harshly, much harsher than he had the previous night. The professor groaned around his tongue and broke away, holding onto his face and staring into his eyes as if he was going to devour him.
"I want you…" he whispered, clumsily undoing his belt and kicking off his jeans. He wrapped his hands around Ozzy's waist and ground his pelvis against his thigh, whispering into his neck, "I need you."
Their lips quickly found each other again, a desperate, burning kiss. A mess of tongue and lips and teeth and moans. The professor grazed his thumb over Ozzy's nipple, and a gasp escaped his lips, his whole body shuddering at the touch, all new and sensitive and strange.
In his very few sexual encounters during his short life, Ozzy and his partners had either been on the verge of blackout drunk after a party, or simply inexperienced, neither one of them with the confidence or initiative to explore each other or try anything out of the ordinary. It usually went from A to B without much thought going into 'what if I did this…? Would they like it if I touched them here…?' Nothing that wasn't considered 'normal'.
With Professor Roja, however, it wasn't like this at all. It was different. Entirely different, and new, and exciting, and Ozzy arched his body upwards as he felt a wet tongue latch onto his nipple, causing another desperate, shuddering gasp to escape his lips.
He gripped hard onto the sheets by his shoulder, and the professor reached a hand up and twined their fingers together, pressing more of his weight down on Ozzy to rub himself against his hip as he continued to slowly run his tongue over his chest.
The sound of Ozzy's pulse racing was like music to his ears, and he sank down further against him, giving a gentle flick with his tongue, before closing his mouth around his nipple and softly grazing it with his teeth.
"Sir…!" Ozzy moaned, and the professor arched an eyebrow. He raised his head slightly to look him in the eye, two locks of hair hanging loosely over his face, and he clicked his tongue.
"Ozzy, baby. In here, when we're like this, I'm no longer your teacher. When you moan my name, I want you to moan my name," he uttered, a hint of an order in his voice, and Ozzy felt his insides turn to jelly.
He nodded, gasping and letting his head fall back into the pillow as he felt the professor's warm, wet mouth around his nipple again, dragging his tongue over it like a wave washing over a pebble.
Pleasure rippled over his skin, and Ozzy's fingers sank themselves into the professor's hair, tangling around his braids and tugging harshly as another shaky whimper was drawn out of him. He arched upwards, his head tilting back as he breathed his name, and the professor smiled against his skin.
"That's it. Good boy," he rasped, pushing a hand under the small of his back to make him arch more towards him, while sliding the other down the front of his boxers and taking his… oh.
"Ah…Th-Thrax…" Ozzy moaned, and the professor moved up the bed to lean over him again.
"Oh, you're such a good boy." A kiss. "Such a fast learner." Another, deeper kiss, and a soft squeeze of Ozzy's cock with his hand.
Ozzy moaned again, and the professor swallowed it, slipping his tongue past his teeth and using his thumb to gently rub a little bead of precum over the tip of his cock. Ozzy clawed at his back and whined low around his tongue, desperate for more - more friction, more proximity, more of him.
He'd waited for this for so long, weeks of yearning and denying himself and holding back, and now he finally had it, but impatience was starting to claw at his insides, every slow kiss making him insane.
Fortunately, teasing didn't seem to be on Professor Roja's mind, as he slipped his hand further down Ozzy's shaft, and then back up again. The rhythm was slow and languorous, but so so delicious. It was obvious that the professor was trying to take his time, drinking up his moans and savouring every single second, and Ozzy let him, sliding his boxer shorts down over his thighs to open himself up further.
He softly canted his hips in time with the professor's strokes, lazily fucking up into his hand. His palm was so big and warm and strong around him, slightly slick from the precum now dripping down over his knuckles, and Ozzy couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so fucking safe.
The bed beneath him felt like the softest, coolest grass, while the street light shining through the window might as well have been the sun slowly sneaking over the horizon to bathe him in its warmth, lapping and soothing every inch of his skin. It was lovely, heavenly, other-worldly, and so much better than anything he could have ever imagined or fantasised about.
God, if this is how good it feels with his hands, imagine what it'll be like with his mou-
Then, as if he knew, the professor broke the kiss and looked into Ozzy's eyes, his gaze lost and glassy. "I want to taste you…" he whispered. "Can I?"
But before Ozzy could even answer, his mouth was already pressed to his skin, tracing patterns with his tongue as he slowly worked his way down over his collarbone, his chest, his belly, stopping just below his navel to nuzzle into that V-shape cut into his lower stomach, and all Ozzy could do was watch as he got closer and closer and…
"Ah!"
Teeth nibbled at the soft skin on the inside of his thigh, just a touch too hard, and the professor looked back up into Ozzy's eyes, his expression apologetic.
"Sorry," he murmured as he pressed a kiss to the same spot, resisting the burning urge to bite down again and leave his mark. He patted Ozzy's hip to get him to further open up his legs for him, pushing them even wider with his palms on his inner thighs as he buried his face in the crease where his leg meets his body.
"What about our little rule to take things slow?" Ozzy said jokily, his voice breathy and dripping with desire, and the professor smiled into his skin as he inhaled his scent.
"A bit of rule breaking every once in a while is good for ya, dontcha think?" he replied, wrapping his claws around Ozzy's thighs and dragging a long, slow stroke of his tongue all the way up his cock.
And the sound Ozzy made was pure heaven, the bed sheets crumpling between his fingers and his head lolling back into the pillow as the professor took him into his mouth.
It'd been a while since Professor Roja had done anything like this, but Ozzy didn't seem to notice, with moan after moan tumbling past his lips and his pelvis rhythmically lifting to push into his mouth.
The professor hummed around him, and Ozzy shivered, his knees drifting up and dropping to the side as he felt two thumbs press into the creases where his legs meet his body.
It was hot, messy, intense, and Thrax groaned as he took him in further, working his cock deeper into his mouth until the room was filled with nothing but the sound of his name on Ozzy's tongue.
He couldn't quite explain it, but right now, he felt as though he had been possessed. As though he'd finally been given a purpose, his brain taken over by the singular urge to make Ozzy feel good. No, more than good. Euphoric.
He glanced upwards over his body, a flushed, soft, edible mess, and he felt how his own arousal pooled hot in his stomach. It was intoxicating to be able to watch every delicious expression cross his face, hear every moan, every whimper as his thighs trembled around his neck and his fingers tangled deep in his hair.
He glided a hand up Ozzy's thigh, over the curve of his hip and up to his chest, and he circled his thumb over Ozzy's left nipple, and, God, the praise that that small gesture caused to spill out of his mouth was like an arrow to his heart, shooting straight to his very core and filling him with joy that would last a week, a month, a year.
It was a confusing blur of words - a mix of Thrax and perfect and yes and more - simple words, nothing complicated or particularly profound, but for the professor they were ruinous. He groaned deep in his throat, and it was obvious that if he was allowed to, he'd swallow him whole.
His tongue swirled around the entirety of him, feeling as Ozzy's fingers threaded through his braids and tugged. His thighs clenched around his neck, but Thrax forced them apart, and when Ozzy thought he couldn't take any more, the professor just kept going.
"Thrax… 'm close…" he tried to warn, but the palms pressing hard onto his hips to push him even deeper into his mouth suggested that the professor had absolutely no intention of pulling away. Ozzy choked back a sob, twisting his fingers into his hair as he felt himself sinking further down his throat, a liquid, burning heat blossoming just below his stomach, until suddenly…
Everything seemed to drift off without him. Washed away by the all-eclipsing pleasure tearing through him, and he was left floating, aware of nothing except the place where his and the professor's bodies connected.
Wave after wave hit him, shocks and pulses pushing their way up over his stomach and down through his thighs, followed by little jolts of electricity into his fingertips and toes, and all he heard was the sound of his own voice crying out Thrax's name over and over again.
When he was in control of his body again, the fingers twisting into tousled locks of hair loosened their grip, and he looked down to see Thrax still kneeling between his legs, gently running his tongue over the length of him, everything now soft and overly sensitive.
His arms and legs flopped by his sides, and he felt utterly weightless, boneless, somehow empty but full at the same time. His palms came down to cup Thrax's face, and he looked down at him through thick lashes, a few tears pooling at his waterlines.
"C'mere," he said weakly, his hand massaging the back of Thrax's neck as he moved up the bed again.
"You're mesmerising," Thrax whispered, before pressing their lips together again. He moaned low as he felt Ozzy snake a hand between both of their bodies and wrap it around his cock, and their deal to take things slow was well and truly broken.