Every day, Idia does something else to surprise Cater. Just when he thinks that the Ignihyde can't get any more incredible, he goes and proves otherwise. How could he have predicted how well something like this would work? Well, Cater isn't going to really be able to tell just how successful it is until later when he tries and calls back on this reading...but from where he's sitting? This is an exercise he'd definitely be happy to repeat.
"Mmm," Cater moans deep in his throat, eyes closing for a second as he savors the feeling of Idia's lips on his feverish skin. It's so hard to focus every time Idia shifts inside of him, every slight movement bubbling inside of him. But then he does re-focus, and each sentence sticks to him. The concentrated effort he has to take to read aloud making the words that much more meaningful.
Taking one hand away from the book, he finds one of Idia's hands and squeezes it, wanting to answer that statement of pride without stopping in his recitation.
Lacing their fingers together, Idia returns the squeeze, and though Cater can't see it the Housewarden is smiling. Even if this doesn't improve Cater's grade, as long as he doesn't tank completely then it's worth the effort. Every time they make love they feel closer. If sleep cleanses blot, then this washes the soul itself clean.
There's no hurry as Cater reaches the end of the chapter, now presented with a set of review questions. Phase four is about to begin, though Idia takes a moment to reward his boyfriend's diligence: a few lazy thrusts accompanied by his free hand curling around Cater's cock to stroke him loosely. "You're finally ready. This is the last phase, and then you're done studying for the night."
With that, Idia lifts Cater enough to pull out, though he shivers at the loss of contact. "Here, on your stomach. Stretch out and get comfortable." Ever practical, he tucks a towel under his boyfriend before guiding Cater to lie on his front, pressing the underside of his erection into the rough fabric of the towel. "Book in front of you. Let me know when you're ready for review."
The first real attention his dick has gotten directly rewards Idia with a colorful set of pleasured noises from Cater. He's so clearly hovering in a state of near-ecstasy at this point that he's putty in his lover's hands, hanging on every word for a chance at more handling.
When Idia separates their bodies, Cater nearly sobs, unable to help shooting him a pleading look even though the promise for more has already been made. It's hard to imagine how he can possibly do any legitimate critical thinking...but Idia's been taking his job as taskmaster seriously enough that Cater knows he's going to try.
And if he can make it through this? Crewel's test's got nothing on him.
Following instructions and laying down, even just the sensation of the towel pressing into his swollen cock makes him want to hump his body silly to gratification. He holds himself as still as he can, book at reading distance as he moves one hand back to pull at one of his cheeks, providing Idia with an exceptionally lewd image of his needy hole.
If only Cater realized how difficult controlling himself is for Idia, too, especially with that lewd sight. He has his plans, but he’ll only know if they’re realistic once he actually tries. Cockwarming was one thing, he was fully sheathed through it, but this? Idia takes a deep breath.
“Eyes on the page, Cater. We’ll start from the top.”
He lays over his boyfriend, rubbing his cock along that slippery cleft before pushing just the head in with a pop they both feel rather than hear. Idia grits his teeth against the urge to simply slam in fully, holding himself poised to move but staying still. Somehow his voice is mostly steady as he starts the review.
The moan that escapes him is all but agonized. Just like Idia, Cater wants to ram his hips backward to slap their bodies together. Wants to push the head of that cock full force into his sweet spot. He's physically stronger than Idia, he's sure he could do it even if Idia tried holding him down...
But for all the temptation he keeps the thought to his fantasies, panting as his body tenses against the urge, toes curling. "Mmph," he breathes in response, repeating the words. "Q-question one."
Cater recites the question in the book and bows his head to press it into his arm as he thinks. But, oh, that one's not so bad. He remembers: the explanation for that one stands out as being when Idia first touched him with slippery fingers, sending a thrill through him. His voice had pitched up in surprise at the time, but the memory now sends a whole new vibration of pleasure snake out through his abdomen. So, with a slight strain in his voice he provides the correct answer.
Oh, Cater does deserve a little reward, and Idia uses it to also grant himself some mercy. He pushes in slowly, stopping halfway and taking another pair of deep breaths that he lets out to a four-count. Control is still maintained, good. “Correct. Question two?”
There’s something about this, having Cater at his mercy but without selfish or wicked intentions. It’s a game, and yes indeed they both enjoy games. Idia feels strangely powerful, not in controlling someone but rather bringing them to new heights of pleasure. Maybe there’s a little bit of dominance in him after all, solely existing to make Cater helpless with lust.
All in all, Cater's definitely not going to complain about Idia getting in touch with his more dominant side. This is a totally new sort of dynamic for the two of them, but that makes it all even more fun: the endless possibilities of their coupling, and a vibe for every mood. It also strengthens his resolve to pay Idia back twofold for his tormenting, later.
"Question two." It's almost worse having him halfway, harder to stop himself from asking for more--but at the same time all the more encourages to earn more. "That's...I think...haaa..."
It doesn't come to him as fast, a little dazed, provides an answer. It's mostly correct, with a slight mis-remembering of one detail.
“Partial credit. You forgot one of the application details.” That means no further progress, but Idia’s not withdrawing either: a stalemate of a most deliciously torturous nature. “Gotta concentrate, Cay~”
He’s somewhere between gritting his teeth for control and grinning, loving the quivering mess developing under him. It’s an endurance test as much as it is about memory. If Cater can recall facts under stress, even positive stress, he’ll ace the exam. “Next question.”
Having been hoping to feel Idia push in farther, Cater whimpers in his sinful misery at his mistake. With the correction, he remembers the passage more clearly and curses under his breath. No way he's going to mess up that one on the test when this is the new memory he has of it.
C'mon, Cay, he tells himself, just breathe.
It's so hard to stay still. His thighs shift slightly from time to time, but the friction that causes between his genitals and the towel is too good to handle and he has to tense himself back to stillness. "Magically enhanced growing processes, I know this one," he thinks aloud, reading the question in full. And thank Seven--if he missed one now, he's sure he'd burst into tears.
Sure enough, Cater gives the right answer without trouble. Hard to forget that one when he already has a significant memory relating to it (even if it's not a positive one).
Idia hums in satisfaction, and his next push buries him fully in Cater. It’s so nice pressing up against that pert backside, warm and smooth. Sighing, the Housewarden lets his torso settle over his boyfriend’s back, chin resting on Cater’s shoulder again.
“Good boy,” he breathes in a pierced ear, one hand running idly up and down Cater’s arm. “You’re seeing how this works, hm? Think you can keep up a string of right answers? Reap the rewards?” His other hand taps the next question in the book.
After all the teasing, the sitting inside of him, and then the loss of him all the way inside, having Idia back where he should be and resting against his body sets him quivering in helplessness. He's sure that he's about to lose it and pop an orgasm, but the pressure stops just short and Cater breathes hard, burning up and frustrated. "I feel like I'm gonna explode," he protests on a whine.
But damn if it wasn't sexy as fuck having those words tickling his earlobe. "I need you so bad..."
Even as he whimpers, though, Cater raises his eyes back up to the words, reading off the next question. Shit. He can't remember. "Mm, ah..." his moaning betrays his indecision, but he doesn't admit defeat quite yet, biding for time as he tries to recall exactly where that answer had been.
Idia’s chuckle sounds close to Cater’s ear. He doesn’t pull back or thrust, but he does sway his hips once to grind lightly against Cater’s cheeks. “You’re stalling. Remember the exam is timed, you don’t want to run out the clock… unfinished, do you?”
Remember the core value of Ignihyde, Cater? Diligence. It’s why they make perfect tutors, if you can convince them to take the job at all. If they do, you will learn.
"Idia!" It's more of a whine than a real protestation, and his hips involuntarily lift upward into the motion, trying to push him even deeper inside. "Just--just give me a second, I'm thinking!"
Almost as if in a panic, Cater provides a rushed answer--it's not correct. As soon as he does, though, his breath catches. The wrong statement triggers the correct memory in his brain and he almost frantically corrects himself. "Wait--wait, no! Hold on!"
As he gives the correct answer, he reaches for one of Idia's arms, grabbing him as if he could stop him from making good on any kind of punishment he might've had waiting in the wings.
The hum this time is disappointed, but not so heavy with it that the sentiment is crushing. “Sorry, Cay.” And he does sound genuinely sorry as he pulls back to halfway in, gradually enough to deny any real pleasurable friction. So now Cater knows for sure what the penalty is: denial.
“Keep going. You can do it, just concentrate.” Idia’s soft reassurance tries to ease the sting of the misstep. “You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for. Make up for the error.”
Cater groans--there's an instant of relief with the movement at all and then nothing but misery. How did he get so good at this? No wonder he's Ignihyde's housewarden. Slapping Idia's arm slightly, he lets him go and tucks his head down into the crook of his own elbow. "I'm trying," he protests, sounding nearly close to tears.
With another noise of protest he raises his face to grumble out the next question. Clearly, he's not as upset as he sounds or he'd voice it. The two of them have established the importance of clear communication with each other, after all, and he wouldn't let something like this actually impact that.
Mostly, it's his cock doing the talking.
The next question gives him an easy recovery. He remembers that topic well thanks to a particularly sensitive brush of Idia's fingers against his prostate, so the answer comes with an almost flippant sort of confidence. Idia's right: he can do it. The difference in being teased to being denied is already doing wonders for reigning in his focus.
Idia sinks back in fully, like stepping into a warm bath. He kisses the side of Cater’s neck, catches the silver hoop in his boyfriend’s ear with a sharp tooth, strokes Cater’s forearm.
“You’ve still got a passing grade. Keep going, you’ve got it.” Gods, he wants Cater to pass this. He wants to bring them both to climax. He wants Cater’s grades to convince STYX of his worth. He wants them to be together through senior year and beyond.
He's never going to be a genius or a top-student, especially not so close to the end of his time of enrollment...but Cater wants to make Idia proud. His soft encouragements are so much more powerful than any amount of sexual teasing, and with those sweet touches he finds the willpower to breathe through his lust and read the next question.
Suddenly, it feels like he's hit a point where the material's clicked. The next few questions make perfect sense, and back to back Cater delivers a correct answer.
He’ll always be proud of Cater. With breathy praise he rewards the correct answers by rolling his hips, gently moving inside his boyfriend. It’s not enough but it’s so close, a promise of what’s to come with two more right answers. Idia’s breathing harder, struggling to hold back through consistent shallow thrusts, denying himself right alongside Cater.
“Almost… you’re right there, Cay, I can’t wait to stop holding back for you….” He hisses through his teeth, this stage of lazy motion almost too much. If Cater answers wrong, Idia’s not sure he won’t just fuck his boyfriend’s brains out anyway. Diligence can only go so far when desire is so powerful.
There's absolutely no, no way he can bear to mess things up now. Cater would be anxious if he wasn't riding on such a high, left hovering on an edge he can't overcome. He knows that he could blow with the smallest provocation but he wants that and so, so much more. And they're so close to the end of the review.
It's a little harder for him to answer the final questions, but less because of not knowing the answers and more that he's struggling to form words specifically. Okay, so maybe they're a little simplistic, but with his brain starting to short-circuit with need it's at least clear that he's understanding the material. Easy enough to assume that if he was a bit more clear-headed he'd be a bit more eloquent.
Even though he's sure he's right, his confidence falters under the weight of his need, and Cater can't help but beg. "Please, I can't take any more..."
Oh thank the Seven, Idia’s so damned proud of his precious boyfriend right now. “Congrats, you pass,” he growls in Cater’s ear, right before he braces his hands on either side of the other boy and starts thrusting in earnest. His core burns from the effort but it’s more than worth it, giving Cater the deep fucking they both crave. Neither of them will last but it doesn’t matter.
Cater’s going to breeze through that final and then they’ll come back to Idia’s room to cuddle and screw in celebration before they go on summer break. The finish line is right there, and after that they won’t be separated again. Idia wants to praise him further but he can’t form coherent words anymore, either. All he wants is for Cater to come so hard he can’t even cry out.
Completely unable to hold himself back either, once Idia starts thrusting he pushes his body back up against him, meeting the needy rhythm with his own earnestness. "Idia," he moans, "Idia, Idia...!"
At that pace, with how long he's been teased, Cater comes fast and hard, body jolting involuntarily as he shoots all over the towel beneath him. Still, he pushes through it as his moans pitch higher, limbs shaking as he wills Idia onward, insistent to feel the hot rod inside of him reach deeper and deeper.
Caught in the waves of his pleasure, his insides shudder, grasping Idia ever tighter. His hands have grabbed fistfuls of the bedspread beneath him, forehead pressed hard downward acting as an anchor.
Hearing Cater chanting his name, feeling him clench and shudder through climax, pushes Idia over the edge. His thrusts quicken, erratic, until his brain shorts out and he muffles his shout of release by sinking his teeth into Cater’s shoulder. He holds on like a rutting beast, eyes clenched shut, thrusting right through every pulse of his orgasm.
And then the storm subsides into a calm, quiet fog of tired bliss. Idia sags fully onto Cater, softening but still buried to the hilt, the faint taste of blood on his lips.
The pain of the sharp teeth piercing his skin doesn't fully reach him, only heightening the sensations already overcoming his senses. Cater holds on and rides the waves that crash over him up until he can't anymore, collapsing, chest heaving from the force of his breaths. Idia's lanky figure against him is like a weighted blanket, keeping him comfortable and still.
Laying there, he needs a moment to steady himself. His shoulder is starting to ache more than he noticed before, but it still isn't enough to stop him from twisting his body so he can find Idia's mouth and kiss him hard. The sound of metal hits his own tongue but Cater doesn't care.
Idia’s still panting so the kiss is enough to make his lungs ache until he remembers breathing through his nose. He chases Cater’s tongue with his own, tasting the blood, but his brain is slow to react to that as well. It’s only when he pulls back, pulls out, does he notice the red smeared on Cater’s lips and shoulder. His eyes widen.
“C—Cater, you’re bleeding!” He touches the marks on his boyfriend’s shoulder, feeling the punctures there. They’re… but he doesn’t remember… but the shape…!
Cater looks blearily up at Idia's face, moving to lay on his back. Come to think of it, he does taste blood, doesn't he? And that throbbing he's feeling...
One of his hands comes up to touch the site of the bite wound, causing him to wince slightly, but Cater just gives a breathy, somewhat disbelieving laugh as he looks at the blood on his fingers. "So I am. Ha, I guess that was bound to happen sooner or later, right?"
Groaning from the effort, he sits up. Damn, he just wants to lay down and pass out, but he can't leave his shoulder like that. Probably shouldn't summon Ortho for medical attention, so he starts scooting to the edge of the bed. "First aid kit?"
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"Mmm," Cater moans deep in his throat, eyes closing for a second as he savors the feeling of Idia's lips on his feverish skin. It's so hard to focus every time Idia shifts inside of him, every slight movement bubbling inside of him. But then he does re-focus, and each sentence sticks to him. The concentrated effort he has to take to read aloud making the words that much more meaningful.
Taking one hand away from the book, he finds one of Idia's hands and squeezes it, wanting to answer that statement of pride without stopping in his recitation.
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There's no hurry as Cater reaches the end of the chapter, now presented with a set of review questions. Phase four is about to begin, though Idia takes a moment to reward his boyfriend's diligence: a few lazy thrusts accompanied by his free hand curling around Cater's cock to stroke him loosely. "You're finally ready. This is the last phase, and then you're done studying for the night."
With that, Idia lifts Cater enough to pull out, though he shivers at the loss of contact. "Here, on your stomach. Stretch out and get comfortable." Ever practical, he tucks a towel under his boyfriend before guiding Cater to lie on his front, pressing the underside of his erection into the rough fabric of the towel. "Book in front of you. Let me know when you're ready for review."
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When Idia separates their bodies, Cater nearly sobs, unable to help shooting him a pleading look even though the promise for more has already been made. It's hard to imagine how he can possibly do any legitimate critical thinking...but Idia's been taking his job as taskmaster seriously enough that Cater knows he's going to try.
And if he can make it through this? Crewel's test's got nothing on him.
Following instructions and laying down, even just the sensation of the towel pressing into his swollen cock makes him want to hump his body silly to gratification. He holds himself as still as he can, book at reading distance as he moves one hand back to pull at one of his cheeks, providing Idia with an exceptionally lewd image of his needy hole.
"I can't wait any longer--hurry!"
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“Eyes on the page, Cater. We’ll start from the top.”
He lays over his boyfriend, rubbing his cock along that slippery cleft before pushing just the head in with a pop they both feel rather than hear. Idia grits his teeth against the urge to simply slam in fully, holding himself poised to move but staying still. Somehow his voice is mostly steady as he starts the review.
“Question one….”
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But for all the temptation he keeps the thought to his fantasies, panting as his body tenses against the urge, toes curling. "Mmph," he breathes in response, repeating the words. "Q-question one."
Cater recites the question in the book and bows his head to press it into his arm as he thinks. But, oh, that one's not so bad. He remembers: the explanation for that one stands out as being when Idia first touched him with slippery fingers, sending a thrill through him. His voice had pitched up in surprise at the time, but the memory now sends a whole new vibration of pleasure snake out through his abdomen. So, with a slight strain in his voice he provides the correct answer.
Tutor, a reward?
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There’s something about this, having Cater at his mercy but without selfish or wicked intentions. It’s a game, and yes indeed they both enjoy games. Idia feels strangely powerful, not in controlling someone but rather bringing them to new heights of pleasure. Maybe there’s a little bit of dominance in him after all, solely existing to make Cater helpless with lust.
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"Question two." It's almost worse having him halfway, harder to stop himself from asking for more--but at the same time all the more encourages to earn more. "That's...I think...haaa..."
It doesn't come to him as fast, a little dazed, provides an answer. It's mostly correct, with a slight mis-remembering of one detail.
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He’s somewhere between gritting his teeth for control and grinning, loving the quivering mess developing under him. It’s an endurance test as much as it is about memory. If Cater can recall facts under stress, even positive stress, he’ll ace the exam. “Next question.”
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C'mon, Cay, he tells himself, just breathe.
It's so hard to stay still. His thighs shift slightly from time to time, but the friction that causes between his genitals and the towel is too good to handle and he has to tense himself back to stillness. "Magically enhanced growing processes, I know this one," he thinks aloud, reading the question in full. And thank Seven--if he missed one now, he's sure he'd burst into tears.
Sure enough, Cater gives the right answer without trouble. Hard to forget that one when he already has a significant memory relating to it (even if it's not a positive one).
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“Good boy,” he breathes in a pierced ear, one hand running idly up and down Cater’s arm. “You’re seeing how this works, hm? Think you can keep up a string of right answers? Reap the rewards?” His other hand taps the next question in the book.
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But damn if it wasn't sexy as fuck having those words tickling his earlobe. "I need you so bad..."
Even as he whimpers, though, Cater raises his eyes back up to the words, reading off the next question. Shit. He can't remember. "Mm, ah..." his moaning betrays his indecision, but he doesn't admit defeat quite yet, biding for time as he tries to recall exactly where that answer had been.
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Remember the core value of Ignihyde, Cater? Diligence. It’s why they make perfect tutors, if you can convince them to take the job at all. If they do, you will learn.
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Almost as if in a panic, Cater provides a rushed answer--it's not correct. As soon as he does, though, his breath catches. The wrong statement triggers the correct memory in his brain and he almost frantically corrects himself. "Wait--wait, no! Hold on!"
As he gives the correct answer, he reaches for one of Idia's arms, grabbing him as if he could stop him from making good on any kind of punishment he might've had waiting in the wings.
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“Keep going. You can do it, just concentrate.” Idia’s soft reassurance tries to ease the sting of the misstep. “You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for. Make up for the error.”
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With another noise of protest he raises his face to grumble out the next question. Clearly, he's not as upset as he sounds or he'd voice it. The two of them have established the importance of clear communication with each other, after all, and he wouldn't let something like this actually impact that.
Mostly, it's his cock doing the talking.
The next question gives him an easy recovery. He remembers that topic well thanks to a particularly sensitive brush of Idia's fingers against his prostate, so the answer comes with an almost flippant sort of confidence. Idia's right: he can do it. The difference in being teased to being denied is already doing wonders for reigning in his focus.
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Idia sinks back in fully, like stepping into a warm bath. He kisses the side of Cater’s neck, catches the silver hoop in his boyfriend’s ear with a sharp tooth, strokes Cater’s forearm.
“You’ve still got a passing grade. Keep going, you’ve got it.” Gods, he wants Cater to pass this. He wants to bring them both to climax. He wants Cater’s grades to convince STYX of his worth. He wants them to be together through senior year and beyond.
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Suddenly, it feels like he's hit a point where the material's clicked. The next few questions make perfect sense, and back to back Cater delivers a correct answer.
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“Almost… you’re right there, Cay, I can’t wait to stop holding back for you….” He hisses through his teeth, this stage of lazy motion almost too much. If Cater answers wrong, Idia’s not sure he won’t just fuck his boyfriend’s brains out anyway. Diligence can only go so far when desire is so powerful.
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It's a little harder for him to answer the final questions, but less because of not knowing the answers and more that he's struggling to form words specifically. Okay, so maybe they're a little simplistic, but with his brain starting to short-circuit with need it's at least clear that he's understanding the material. Easy enough to assume that if he was a bit more clear-headed he'd be a bit more eloquent.
Even though he's sure he's right, his confidence falters under the weight of his need, and Cater can't help but beg. "Please, I can't take any more..."
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Cater’s going to breeze through that final and then they’ll come back to Idia’s room to cuddle and screw in celebration before they go on summer break. The finish line is right there, and after that they won’t be separated again. Idia wants to praise him further but he can’t form coherent words anymore, either. All he wants is for Cater to come so hard he can’t even cry out.
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At that pace, with how long he's been teased, Cater comes fast and hard, body jolting involuntarily as he shoots all over the towel beneath him. Still, he pushes through it as his moans pitch higher, limbs shaking as he wills Idia onward, insistent to feel the hot rod inside of him reach deeper and deeper.
Caught in the waves of his pleasure, his insides shudder, grasping Idia ever tighter. His hands have grabbed fistfuls of the bedspread beneath him, forehead pressed hard downward acting as an anchor.
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And then the storm subsides into a calm, quiet fog of tired bliss. Idia sags fully onto Cater, softening but still buried to the hilt, the faint taste of blood on his lips.
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Laying there, he needs a moment to steady himself. His shoulder is starting to ache more than he noticed before, but it still isn't enough to stop him from twisting his body so he can find Idia's mouth and kiss him hard. The sound of metal hits his own tongue but Cater doesn't care.
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“C—Cater, you’re bleeding!” He touches the marks on his boyfriend’s shoulder, feeling the punctures there. They’re… but he doesn’t remember… but the shape…!
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Cater looks blearily up at Idia's face, moving to lay on his back. Come to think of it, he does taste blood, doesn't he? And that throbbing he's feeling...
One of his hands comes up to touch the site of the bite wound, causing him to wince slightly, but Cater just gives a breathy, somewhat disbelieving laugh as he looks at the blood on his fingers. "So I am. Ha, I guess that was bound to happen sooner or later, right?"
Groaning from the effort, he sits up. Damn, he just wants to lay down and pass out, but he can't leave his shoulder like that. Probably shouldn't summon Ortho for medical attention, so he starts scooting to the edge of the bed. "First aid kit?"
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