houseofsushi | lan sizhui ♪ the untamed (open post)

He rolls his eyes before he's able to stop himself, but is thankfully tactful enough to incline his head when he does so. “I've noticed that when people are pacing, it's because they're stressed.”

After he's sure his expression has relaxed again, Sizhui glances up, bites down on his cheek as he gives Jiang Cheng a brief once-over, considers his loosened tie, the open buttons on his shirt. Wasn't he wearing something else, too? Yes, in maroon; a waistcoat he's obviously lost somewhere in his high-strung state.

You, is what he considers saying aloud. Instead, Sizhui's shuffling toward the desk, reaching to slide a few papers aside. “I already told you what I want,” he remarks, casting the professor a sideways glance before turning back. “But perhaps I can help you instead... Who wrote this? It's like it was copied straight from a Wikipedia page.” A beat while his eyes momentarily narrow then he chuckles, “Actually, that's exactly what this is, almost word for word.”

“Those papers are not for your review, young master Lan,” he snaps. “So you don’t need to tell me if an article has been wikipediad or not.”

What is this kid playing at? Jiang Cheng scrubs a hand over his face. He needs sleep. He needs. Well he needs an outlet. With young master Lan rolling some kind of candy alohn the inside of his cheek, his brain supplemented images happily do what else could distend those smooth, pale, cheeks.

“Perhaps not, but they were written by my peers, so I am certain I've already read at least half of these.” Keeping in mind how many people constantly come to him for help with their work, after all.

The longer he looks, the more he realizes, “To be honest, I have a pretty good idea who wrote this nonsense.” Not that he's really concerned, Sizhui's simply providing a diversion, biding his time, shifting ever-so-slightly closer to Jiang Cheng's side and tipping his head with consideration. “This isn't what you need though, is it?”

“You’re not buttering me up to improve your friend’s grade,” he says tiredly. “Everyone is graded the same.”

Why is he sidling up next to him? Doesn’t he have to go back to his dorm? Go pull an all nighter? Jiang Cheng moves away and plops himself into his chair with a groan. Maybe he would end up sleeping in his office again. The chair isn’t too unfortunate: leather and large behind his desk, high backed and wide.

Following a soft, exasperated sigh, “I don't care about my friend's grade.” If Jingyi wants to fail his class, that's his own damn fault.

Sizhui will very likely do both of those things but right now, standing here in Jiang Cheng's classroom, watching him drop into his chair, listening to him groan like he does, there's only one thing on his mind and it certainly isn't anything appropriate. He swallows, careful to not choke on his candy by accident, splays both hands as he leans on the desk. “Have you eaten at all today, professor Jiang?” That isn't quite his concern either, but better to not sound too desperate yet.

The office is small, barely enough for a few bookshelves and his desk and his chair. Let alone big enough for him to properly pace in. At least his chair and desk are steady. He could ask for more but that would mean he’d actually need to share an office with Wei Wuxian.

“I don’t see how it’s any of your concern but I managed to have instant noodles in between lectures today.”

Jiang Cheng deserves something bigger, something better. Something that's proper where he could pace if he really wanted to, although Sizhui's certain there are far better ways to release all that built-up frustration rather than walking back and forth until there's a hole in the floor.

“That's why I'm concerned. What kind of food is that?” Like he hasn't eaten plenty of it himself. He shakes his head, leans the entirety of his upper-half over the desk then props his elbows up, cheeks resting in his hands. “Come to dinner with me.”

“No,” he says firmly. “And get yourself off my desk, young master Lan.”

Though the title is said quite sarcastically. Why is he being shameless and acting as if he were straight out of a lesser professor (sometimes him. Once him.)’s fantasy?

He opens his mouth to reply, hesitates, rethinks what he's going to say and smirks. “Why don't you make me?” There's more than one way to crack an egg, obviously, and one can't make an omelet without breaking a few of those.

Because he's well-aware of what he wants and (usually) he gets exactly that. Sizhui sits up, lifts himself onto the edge of the desk, careful to not displace any papers while leaning to place both hands on the chair's arms, mirth clear in his expression when he lessens the distance between them and asks in a sugar-sweet whisper, “Then what about dessert?”

Did he just? He's asleep at his desk. This has got to be the only reason why Wei Wuxian's student, his star student, is splaying himself over his desk and why said student is leaning over him, speaking things like that. He narrows his eyes as he looks at him. Is this a weird game of chicken? Some kind of hazing that Sizhui needs to do? Seduce a professor? Fine, he won't make it easy for him.

"Is that why you've been prancing around in the tightest pants possible, bending over every surface you could find, and sucking down on those cherry lollipops?" he growls quietly. "You understand every fucking perv on campus has been ogling you? Oh...I get it; it's some kind of hazing you're doing. Late in the year to do that." One hand lifts up from the arm of the chair and into the length of his dark hair, twisting his fingers in it before yanking his head back sharply. "Or are you trying to act out so that I'd snap and take you over my knee and teach you a lesson?"

Yeah, he did, and it is most certainly not a dream. Sizhui's been waiting for a moment like this, pleading with whatever higher powers to give him one chance and here they are. Everybody knows he's been desperately trying to get Jiang Cheng's attention, in all the ways he mentions and then some, but as the situation starts unfolding before him, it feels like he's the one dreaming.

“I've been hoping you'd finally notice,” he admits then he continues in a lower murmur, “It's not hazing and I don't care who else is looking, so long as you are. Everyone else only gets to look, whereas you, on the other hand, I would—” but he cuts off abruptly, a surprised gasp passing his lips whenever Jiang Cheng reaches for his hair, gets a good handful and none too gently tugs his head back. Sizhui inhales, slow and steady, eyelashes fluttering as he tightens his hands, fingernails scraping over leather, the heat blatant in his cheeks. “Please. I'm hoping you'll put your hands all over me, to be honest.”

He brings Sizhui close enough so that their faces are a hair's breadth away from each other. It's a dangerous game. Sizhui played at the very edges of Jiang Cheng's restraint and now, offering himself up like this, practically splayed all over his desk and turned on just from grabbing his hair, it barely holds Jiang Cheng responsible for his actions. He takes a few deep breaths.

"There are rules at this institution, young master Lan, against students and teachers engaging in any kind of activities that are not academic," he says lowly, not keeping the snarl out of his voice. "So I'm not going to put my hands all over you like you want so badly. But you're going to listen and do exactly what I say, do you understand me?"

And Sizhui lets himself be drawn closer, half-lidded gaze unwavering, the softest, watermelon-tainted breath puffing across Jiang Cheng's face. He'd known there would be some reaction, but he hadn't expected something so ferociously straightforward. Honestly, what he'd anticipated, was the professor tumbling him off the desk flat onto his ass, and yet—

His lips press tight, teeth clamping down on the ever-shrinking hard-candy, though it somehow does not break. He also knew the rules and of all the ones to break? This was the one he's oh-so-willing to stick his neck out for because something drew him to Jiang Cheng; something he still can't put his finger, but it seems like he's understanding a little more now. First, the response is a faint nod, then he swallows hard a second time before acknowledging, “Yes, professor, I understand.”

“You should be answering that as yes Sir but I’ll let it slide for now.”

He tugs Sizhui, moving him so that the youth could kneel near the edge of his desk. He moves papers out of the way, stacking them up on the far side so that they would gremlin safe.

“Go ahead. Show me that pretty little cock of yours. Is it hard already? I bet it is. I bet you’re just dying for me to touch it.”

He nods with understanding at the correction, noting it for later use, which won't be too long from now. His cock sure isn't getting any softer because of it, though.

Being tugged coaxes Sizhui into moving to the desk's edge, his hands instinctively reaching to grip it because while he doesn't think Jiang Cheng will let him fall, it's one of those ‘just in case’ sort of things. At least until the older man tells him to undress.

Oh, this is really happening... but what's the catch? “Yes, sir.” He shifts, reaches for the button on his jeans, exhaling a sigh of relief once it pops open, slender fingers dipping into the sides to start working them off his hips, over the curve of his ass, down pale, creamy thighs, revealing the pretty white panties underneath. Jiang Cheng was right, his dick is already hard, straining against the lace, leaking precum from a little manhandling. “I am... mmn.” So much so, it's quite tempting to touch himself, but he resists (for now) and begins removing the undergarments, too. Slower, even, in case Jiang Cheng wants him to wait for whatever godforsaken reason.

White. Lace. Panties. His grip tightens as his breath quickens. His own slacks feel tight but he remains control of the situation. No, he’s not going to touch him.

“This a little gift for me? Let’s make them not so pristine. Stroke yourself slowly through it. Don’t touch the head. I want to see if you can soak your panties. Does that lace feel good against your cock, little one?”

Sizhui bites his lower lip to keep from outright grinning, but the left side of his face quirks faintly anyway with the knowledge that he's just laid out a huge trump card. He darts his attention toward Jiang Cheng's hands, watches them grip tighter then tilts his gaze back up, heartbeat skipping at the sound of his breath catching like that.

“Do you like them?” he asks breathily, resettling the waistband low on his hips. “I thought you might, that's part of why I bought them.” Holding steady with one hand, the other dips between his thighs, palming his cock through the lacework, deliberate in avoiding the head like he'd been told. “Mmhmm,” comes the slow drawl, the hand stabilizing him on the desk reaching to lift his shirt and tuck it underneath his chin so Jiang Cheng can get a better view. “You make me so wet, professor Jiang... it's a wonder I get anything done after I see you on campus.”

He stands to give Sizhui a better balance on his desk.

"Aren't I the lucky one, then?" he asks lowly by his ear. "That you got yourself all dressed up for me. You got yourself leaking for me and you're giving me such a nice little show, sweetheart. How long have you been wanting this, huh?" he asks.

Jiang Cheng keeps his grip in Sizhui's long locks, careful to watch as he seems to sink so easily into this role. Too far and he'll be ready to bring the young man out of a sub drop. He keeps his voice low and growling near Sizhui's ear.

"Did you practice this for me, baby? All alone, frigging your cock until you ruin your panties? How many of them have you ruined so far?"

Oh, thank goodness, he wasn't sure how well his balance would hold being bent over like so, but this helps immensely.

That, and having Jiang Cheng near his ear makes him shudder, has goosebumps rising on his skin at such a simple, yet still so very intimate gesture. “Too long,” Sizhui pouts, giving him the faintest, playful nudge. “You've made me wait so long. You are lucky I'm still nice enough to do this for you, diligent enough to wear pretty little things every day until you finally gave in.”

He inhales sharply when his wrist twists upward, lets out a quivering sigh beside the older man's head after stroking back down, fingers momentarily squeezing around the base of his cock as the slickness in his underwear spreads.

“Yes. At least three pairs,” he admits, face flushing hotly. “Do you know how hard it is to do that with the nosy roommate I have? How careful I need to be when doing laundry or else he'll see the things I've collected for your eyes and yours only?”

"Did you really collect so many pretty things just to wear for me? Maybe you've got garters to go with these panties. Must be uncomfortable sitting in class like this," he murmurs along his cheek. "Would be worse if you were to wear one of those remote ones. Then I could just edge you while I'm lecturing. Or maybe edge you to the brink and leave you there all day. Or when you have a paper to present. Maybe you could wear a plug that does that. Wouldn't you like that? Something to fill you and buzz away to make your cock strain against the lace like it is now?"

He licks his lips but stays steady.

"Do you think you could come like this, sweetheart?" he growls. "Ruin those panties for me, baby. Let me see you come. And maybe, maybe I'll touch you next week."

“Uh-huuuh.” This is enough of an answer toward all of that, but he continues after catching his breath, brief incoherency pushed aside. “I have. I can't wait to show them to you, especially a few in particular. And rest assured, some absolutely have garters.” Even thinking about it makes him squirm harder, has his fingers tightening around his cock while he starts stroking again, a little unsteady. The way Jiang Cheng talks like he's done this before, like he really has been waiting for this day, it's so much of a turn-on, he could easily come just listening to him talk. “Should I be looking at sex toys next time, then? I know exactly where to go, would have no qualms bringing them to you or writhing in my seat during the middle of class because of it.”

Imagining the willpower it would take to maintain composure while presenting a paper, however, makes his knees quiver so hard, he has to reach his free hand to clutch Jiang Cheng's shoulder and hold himself upright.

“I can... I-I will.” Sizhui nods fleetingly, works his hand faster, already near enough it doesn't take much to send him over the edge, to have him spilling against his panties with a breathless gasp at the thought of being touched by the man he's pined after for so long.

He continues to hold Sizhui firmly as he ruins the lace garment, whispering a litany of praises in his ear.

"Good boy, such a good boy. That's it. That's good, sweetheart. You're doing so well. You're so hot like this. Careful, slow down so you don't hurt yourself. I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself, now would I?"

As soon as the gasps slow down, Jiang Cheng gently scoops Sizhui off of his desk and into his chair before walking over to the mini fridge and getting a water bottle. It'll do for now. He twists off the top and holds it up for Sizhui to take small sips.

"Easy...small sips. That's a good kitten. Don't overwhelm yourself. You did so well."

He sinks against Jiang Cheng's shoulder, still stroking, riding out the orgasm with those sweet words being murmured beside his head. Sizhui only slows because he's told to, inhaling deep, measured breaths and sighing them out until his breathing has leveled into something more normal.

Even after the winddown, he's almost certain there is another moment where his cock twitches, further wetting the lace just from being gently talked down. And when he is suddenly lifted off the desk, Sizhui's not messy hand catches Jiang Cheng's shoulder, holds tight all the way to being set back down where he only lets go because the man withdraws, moves to the nearby mini-fridge for— water? That's new, being taken care of, but he likes it.

After accepting the bottle, he drinks small mouthfuls, half-lidded eyes focused upward while he does. He bites his lower lip, considering, then he dares asking, “So well that you'll keep your word of maybe touching me next time, sir?”

"Maybe," he promises.

He strokes along Sizhui's hair.

"I need you to keep sipping that water, all right? The entire bottle."

Jiang Cheng gets up again and roots around the drawer he designates as his personal snack drawer. The one that Wei Wuxian likes to steal from and comes back with a packet of biscuits. He wrinkles his nose. The best he can do on short notice. He opens the package and holds up the chocolate chip cookie to him.

"Nibble on this. Small bites, all right?"

Once Sizhui takes the cookie, he wipes his hand on his trousers and runs his fingers through Sizhui's hair again, making sure that his eyes are focusing and he's relaxing. Jiang Cheng crouches and pulls down Sizhui's pants, then gingerly peels off the soiled panties before grabbing a tissue to clean up the mess as best he could. Once Sizhui's mostly clean, he pulls up the white jeans again, carefully tucking Sizhui in and buttoning him up. The panties, however, slip into Jiang Cheng's pocket.

Good enough. He absently leans into the hand stroking his hair, humming contentedly, sipping from the bottle every few minutes.

Really? The whole thing? He doesn't question it outright though, just keeps right on drinking, gaze darting after Jiang Cheng when he goes to rummage through one of the drawers. With the faintest head-tilt, Sizhui considers the package, an eyebrow initially lifting with partial confusion then both of them hike toward his hairline once he's presented with a chocolate chip cookie of all things.

Sugar is somewhat of a weakness for him and the fact this is what he's being offered, it's a little too ironic. Like Jiang Cheng knew exactly what to do in this moment. Again, he fights back the urge to ask, takes the snack and breaks it in half, starting on one bit first.

He sighs softly once Jiang Cheng's hand returns to his hair, nudges up against it like an affectionate kitten seeking more attention, becoming more focused with each passing minute. However, when the man kneels down in front of him, removes his jeans and panties, takes the necessary time to clean him up before oh-so-carefully helping him back into his pants, Sizhui can't help the momentary astonishment that overtakes his expression; he has only ever given himself aftercare and, being real, it probably hasn't been the best. Seeing Jiang Cheng tuck the lacy undergarments away in his pocket makes him bite his lip, features softening into a smile, something more playful.

“Guess I'll have to buy a new pair, hm?”

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject