He hasn't been in Rexxentrum long. Yussa arrived only a month ago with the intent of starting his new role when the Solstryce Academy's next term begins. He has spent the time since them making himself comfortable in the home he's secured here, which has included creating a teleportation circle that will take him back to his tower in Nicodranas whenever he wishes. That sort of freedom is paramount given that he has not set foot in this city in decades, mostly to avoid a hassle.
Being in a new place has given him cause to explore. He does it at his own pace, but that is how Yussa Errenis finds himself in a certain club. He likes the atmosphere, he feels slightly more comfortable there than he has in other places. The second or third time he goes, he catches sight of a handsome human man, one he is certain he hasn't seen before. It is impossible to miss him after that.
After several scattered nights of eye contact across rooms, the young man with the stunning blue eyes finally finds the courage to make a move. Or maybe it was Yussa who moved first, but in the end it doesn't really matter. What does matter is that they have finally connected.
The young man is... exciting. There is an earnestness about him that Yussa finds attractive. It's easy enough from there to drinks and share flirtation to be certain their interests and intent are the same, and then a bit more than that to gauge chemistry - the conclusion is that they have plenty. And that's likely how they ended up in one of the bathrooms. For some illusion of privacy, they lock themselves behind a stall door. At once Yussa thinks he is too old for this and interested in nothing else the moment Caleb's hands are on him again. Even in heeled boots, Yussa remains a few inches shorter than the other man.
He tries to brace himself against one of the walls as their mouths meet again. This part has become more urgent, and he finds himself welcoming it.
With the meager anonymity afforded by a locked stall door, Caleb covers the smaller man's body with his, pressing him against the wall behind him. The urgent heat in their kisses builds in intensity with every wet slide of lips, press of tongue, or grind of clothed skin to clothed skin. This man is intoxicating. His mere presence, the force of his personality, his confidence and intelligence and beauty, has clouded Caleb's mind far more than anything he's had to drink tonight.
Though he's found companionship here before, it's been some time since he's been quite this reckless. He tends not to jump into things so quickly, cautious about who he gets close to even temporarily. But Yussa is amazing in a way that he would be a fool to pass up. A little risk is warranted, even demanded. This may be the first time they've met, but Caleb has seen him on several nights over the last few weeks--and he's seen Yussa looking back.
His bare stomach has been drawing Caleb's eye all night, and now it draws his hands. Warm, rough palms frame his waist as Caleb's lips trail from mouth to jaw, then down his neck.
"Let me get on my knees for you," he implores, his voice lowered to a husk. He's been growing aroused since their flirting began to escalate, and pressed against Yussa it is readily apparent how hard he is already in his dark jeans.
The difference in their size quickly becomes apparent again as Caleb's hands slide over his waist. Yussa arches into his touch and his fingers curl in the younger man's hair as his mouth trails down his neck. The sound of his voice is intoxicating, that warm, low rasp is almost enough to make Yussa squirm. Never mind the firm press of Caleb's cock against hip, trapped behind denim.
What a sweet thing, begging to get to his knees like that. Yussa pushes Caleb's head back enough to kiss him again. His fingers slide from Caleb's hair to stroke along his jaw.
"Go on," he murmurs. There is no answering hardness there, and Yussa has a momentary flicker of--not uncertainty. But he braces himself to manage this should Caleb decide what he finds is not what he wants. Yussa has been careful to allude to some things, but not everyone catches that. Perhaps he should have been more blunt.
But gods, he wants to see this man on his knees. He's wet, and he hasn't indulged with another person in quite some time.
Caleb's breath catches as Yussa's lips leave his again and his slender fingers trace the stubbled line of his jaw. His permission is so simple, but so assured it makes his cock throb. His pale skin is flushed, his blue eyes dark with desire, and he takes one more grateful kiss before he sinks to his knees.
He can feel cool tile through his jeans, but it doesn't matter where he is. What matters is Yussa's warm brown skin under his lips as he mouths from his hip to the waist of his pants, where his clever fingers are already working the button open and pulling down the zipper. He wants to taste this man. He wants to lose himself in giving him pleasure and think of nothing else.
Intelligent and observant as he is, Yussa's allusions during conversation and current evidence are more than enough information for Caleb to draw the correct conclusion. There is no surprise and certainly no disappointment when he slides the elf's pants down his thighs and finds his smalls damp. He doesn't hesitate to press his mouth there with a low moan, feeling the heat of his cunt as his tongue wets the fabric still more.
Some little bit of tension unwinds as Caleb doesn't hesitate even a second once Yussa's pants are lower. Still, he isn't anticipating how much Caleb's eager attention gets to him. He tries to hold back a moan but his hand presses against the back of the young man's head as his tongue presses against his wet smalls. Yussa can feel the heat through the fabric and his hips jump, trying to grind closer as he seeks the pleasure offered to him.
His free hand presses against the wall behind Caleb for balance. Yussa makes himself relax, releasing that tight hold on the other man's hair though he offers no apology. He'll be more careful, but gods he wants to encourage this. It's been too long since he's had this.
"Come on," he urges, voice tighter than he'd like it to be.
Drawing a moan from Yussa already is deeply encouraging, and Caleb ceases his attentions only when the other man removes his hand from his hair, pulling back just enough to look up at him and speak. "Nein," he protests, a soft groan. "Hold as tightly as you like. Please."
He needs no further encouragement to get to his task. Single-minded and eager, Caleb's fingers hook into his smalls and draw them down his thighs as well. Finally he puts his mouth exactly where it belongs. His hands clutch at Yussa's hips and his tongue parts his folds in a firm lick, curling as it reaches his clit to roll over it again and again.
The taste of him, the scent of his arousal, and the silky, blood-hot sensitive skin under his mouth--this is everything Caleb wanted. He barely hears the music from the club filtering into the bathroom, but he is hyper-aware of every sound Yussa makes, every twitch of muscle--every demand, voiced or not.
He closes his eyes the moment Caleb's tongue runs up his slit with determination. The way Caleb grips his hips is just as exciting and Yussa tests it as soon as Caleb starts giving more dedicated attention to his clit. He grinds closer and his hand stays firm on the back of the younger man's head.
Yussa must admit to himself that part of the appeal of this is just how pliant Caleb is as he offers himself, his mouth, for use. The temptation to take advantage of the position is almost overwhelming and Yussa tries to refrain--for now. He wants to see what Caleb is capable of without his insistent intervention.
He leans into the hand he has braced against the wall and he allows himself to moan, just loud enough to be heard in the space they share.
Caleb's grip is more to steady himself than to stop Yussa from moving, so he'll find that he's very able and welcome to fuck Caleb's mouth in whatever way suits him. For now, Caleb is doing plenty of that himself. He belongs here on his knees in attentive supplication, his face between Yussa's thighs without a care for how his wet cunt is making a slick mess of him from nose to chin. He laps along his slit, dips the tip of his tongue teasingly past his entrance, and closes his slick lips around his swollen clit with a rumbling, pleased hum.
His eyes slip open as he gives an eager suck, attentive and striking blue. Caleb gazes up at the lovely elven man leaning over him and finds he is inevitably enthralled by his eyes in turn. Gold. He'd noticed that stunning feature right away. There is so much more about this man he wants to discover, to know. Perhaps if he proves himself now, he'll be allowed.
The hand cupping the back of his head ensures he stays right where he is, which is just how he likes it. Beyond his obvious physical beauty, the air of effortless authority Yussa possesses is a large part of what he'd found so immediately attractive about him. Caleb is harder than he's been in months just from this, from being used, from being useful to such a man.
Yussa's fingers tighten when he meets Caleb's gaze. His thighs tremble and he makes a more concerted effort not to make noise beyond is already heavy breathing. But he finds he can't stay silent.
"That's it," he encourages, because such work deserves some praise. Ridiculously, he's excited by the prickle of the other man's beard against his most sensitive places.
He finds he wants very much to get a leg between Caleb's, to feel the press of his hard cock against his boot. But given that his smalls and his trousers are only just down around his thighs, he'll have to save that thought. The last thing he wants is to compromise his balance or change Caleb's position when he is so thoroughly enjoying himself. With a little smirk, his free hand makes a vague gesture and Yussa whispers something that's lost beneath the bass thudding through the walls. But he has a piece of copper wire wrapped around his finger, and a few seconds later Caleb can hear his voice in his ear.
"You look like you belong right where you are," he purrs, managing to sound less breathless than he feels. "Do you want me to come on your face, Caleb?"
Seems polite to ask. Given the sheer skill and enthusiasm of Caleb's mouth, it's going to happen soon. Yussa can feel it building.
Caleb's mouth is very busy, so the moan he that rises from his throat when Yussas's voice purrs directly into his mind is muffled. Yussa is right; he does belong here. With Message, he is able to respond, but his tongue is doing something so much more important than speaking, rubbing tight up against his clit.
But gods, of course he wants that. Nothing would be more satisfying.
His tongue pulls back to lick Yussa's slick from his lips, and he murmurs a single word for the spell to carry to the other arcanist's ear.
"Please."
He could beg more prettily, but something tells him that Yussa will appreciate his work more than his words. He licks into his cunt like his starving for it. His hands slide from his hips down to his thighs and his tongue presses as deep inside him as he can make it reach. The sensation, all tight velvety heat, draws another helpless moan from Caleb's throat. Reflexive, his hips gives a sharp little rock into empty air, but Caleb hasn't even bothered to open his pants, let alone touch himself. His hands have been on Yussa all this time, squeezing gently and rubbing appreciatively over his soft skin.
While his arousal is persistent and aching, Caleb has deliberately not acknowledged it. In this encounter, it is Yussa's pleasure he finds most gratifying. He wants to dedicate himself fully to that. The needs of his own body are present, enjoyable as background noise, but unimportant.
"Good--" That is as much as he manages before his breath catches in his throat. He moans and his back arches as the young man's tongue pushes inside him. His cunt squeezes briefly around it and he tries not to buck against Caleb's mouth. Gods, has it been so long that he's become easy, or is it a testament to Caleb's skills? Yussa chooses to think it's the latter.
It doesn't matter: the effect is the same.
Yussa moans sharply the next time Caleb's lips and tongue find his clit and he shivers hard over the younger man. His hips move rhythmically as he chases his pleasure. It builds to a sharp, delicious crescendo and he presses harder than he means to against the back of Caleb's head as his orgasm snaps through him. Seconds later, his hand goes lax in Caleb's hair, barely holding on at all as he's wracked with pleasure.
When Yussa's hips begin rolling down, grinding against his mouth, Caleb becomes especially pliant, offering his tongue to rub off against and moving where Yussa directs him. Though his knees are starting to twinge a little from time spent against the hard floor, it is a distant feeling, and he puts it far from his mind. His arousal too, warm and thrumming beneath his skin, but not a focus. Allowing Yussa to use him, becoming a tool for his pleasure, takes up the entirety of his attention, and it is blissful.
Though it is everything he's been working toward, it almost feels as though Yussa's orgasm happens too soon. Caleb would gladly gladly do this for twice as long--an hour, the rest of the night. But he may be in luck; one thing he's always envied about people with this arrangement of anatomy is their ability to come again and again without the kind of rest in between rounds that he needs. If Yussa is at all interested, Caleb will make him come as many times as he wants to tonight.
Still, the adrenaline-fueled excitement and pure satisfaction that sink through him when Yussa presses hard against him at the moment of his peak is second to nothing. A soft, eager whine lingers in the back of Caleb's throat as his lover's grip goes slack. He keeps the brush of lips and tongue gentle as he works him through it, taking a firm grip on his thighs to make sure Yussa stays on his feet.
A soft, ragged moan escapes him as Caleb sweetly works him through the delicious little shocks that come after - or maybe he's the cause of them. He nearly loses his balance, might have, if not Caleb's hands on his hips. Yussa indulges in the perfect caress of Caleb's tongue a little longer before he finally draws his hips back. Not far, just enough to make himself clear.
He doesn't move otherwise, save to press his other hand against the wall behind Caleb. He pants for breath, eyes nearly closed as he relishes the pleasure still rolling through him. He stays like that, possibly for too long considering it keeps Caleb on his knees. But, after another moment, Yussa eases back to lean against the opposite wall - thankfully not very far in the small stall - so that Caleb can at least get up without knocking him over.
Yussa is not as together as he normally is. He slept hard last night rather than trancing and it always leaves him slightly groggy, slow to start when he wakes. And while he makes it to the Academy with time before his first class, he gets distracted by an article someone left in his mailbox.
That leaves him striding through the halls to get to his first classroom. The seminar room is smaller than most lecture halls, but still arranged like one with stadium seating to allow all students a clear view of the front of the room and the boards on three sides of it. It's a fair number of students for an advanced class: he has twenty on the roster, but he's quite sure the number will whittle down in the first few weeks and again at midterms.
There are soft murmurs before Yussa Errenis sweeps into the room just a minute after the class was scheduled to start. He does not apologize for being late, but he does set down the cup of tea he's had in his hand since he left his office, along with a file folder.
"This is special topics in advancing evocation - if that does not sound familiar, I suggest you leave quickly and find where you are meant to be," he says as he arranges his roster and another piece of paper on the desk in front of him. Only then does his gaze flick up and--
He meets a pair of very familiar blue eyes. There's the briefest flash of recognition, but nothing more as Yussa's attention drifts across the rest of the room.
A tentative hand raises elsewhere in the classroom and he acknowledges it with a lifted brow.
"Did you mean advanced evocation, Professor?"
Yussa's brow arches further.
"I said what I meant. And that will be the last time anyone questions my choice of words in this room."
The human student who asked sinks down in their chair as Yussa turns away to write on one of the boards.
Caleb could be in better form. While he'd slept very well after he got home and showered, he hadn't been able to sleep long. But that is his own fault for staying out so late, and he doesn't regret it, even if he has two rather important first classes today. The only reason he doesn't feel completely lethargic, he thinks, is because he is still riding high from the night before, quietly giddy with how unexpectedly well it had turned out.
He knows he tends to get...overly focused on certain things and certain people too quickly, but it is far easier to acknowledge this flaw in himself than to actually mitigate it. So of course, he hasn't been able to stop thinking about Yussa. He said he wanted to see him again. He'd scrawled his name and phone number on a note pad by the couch after he dressed; hopefully Yussa has been able to find it. Though he knows he'll feel his phone vibrate in his pocket if he gets a text, he's been reflexively pulling it out to check his messages every fifteen minutes exactly this morning. Just in case.
But gods, that is pathetic, he knows it is. If Yussa is even awake yet, he has his own life, and he is probably not the type whose first priority is texting someone he'd just got done fucking less than twelve hours ago. Stay on task, Widogast. At least he manages to scrape some focus together by the time class actually starts.
Which is why it is all the more shocking when the man who has been on his mind all morning strides briskly into the room.
Just as Caleb is beginning to understand that the hot older wizard he hooked up with last night is apparently his hot evocation professor, he glances up, and their eyes meet. Though it lasts less than a second, it feels like a shock to his system. It feels like lightning down his spine, like his heart dropping into his stomach, mystifying and bewildering and more than a little absurd. But really, once those eyes move on and Caleb gets to actually think again, it isn't much of a stretch. He should have known this was a possibility. How many wizards of Yussa's caliber live in Rexxentrum and don't have some connection to the Academy?
Professor Y. Errenis, he remembers reading. Yussa Errenis. Of course.
Caleb's shoulders hunch a little further inward as he sinks an inch down into his seat. Fuck. No matter what, this ruins something he was really looking forward to. He doesn't want to drop this class. And as ridiculous as it might seem when it's been such a short time, he was hopeful about seeing Yussa again. Just not like this.
Still, he can't help noticing how good he looks today, and how ridiculously attractive he is as he effortlessly sets expectations and takes charge. Gods, even if he can stay in this class, if this is how it is going to be, he is fucked. He can't very well spend his time in this room for several hours several times a week thinking about bending his professor over that desk and eating him out just because he knows how good his cunt tastes and how he moans when he sucks his clit. He cannot sit here remembering how his words slurred in Elvish as his cock fucked him open, how his trembling legs squeezed tight around his waist to make sure he'd come inside him. He can't, or he's going to get hard right now looking at his professor, and that is not an option.
His best bet, he decides, is to follow Yussa's lead and do his absolute fucking best not to acknowledge that anything is amiss here at all. At least until class is over. They...should probably talk when class is over. They'll have to, won't they?
"The words you choose to use should be deliberate," he goes on as he sketches a glyph across the board. "In the same way that you should be deliberate in crafting components to spells. This course will focus on precisely that: sculpting spells, manipulating them to do exactly as you wish, including spells with an area of effect."
Yussa turns then, plucking what looks like a piece of ice or white stone from an unseen pocket while his other hand makes a somatic gesture. He speaks quickly, and across the room - around a student who's chosen to sit away from the others, a five-foot sphere of freezing cloud appears--but the student who should be in the center of it remains unaffected, though they are wide-eyed.
"This includes how to protect someone who may be in the wrong place at the wrong time."
The cloud dissipates and Yussa sees he has the rapt attention of most of the room now. Good.
"Shall we begin?"
Given that it is the first day, Yussa's demonstration is the first and last exciting thing to happen by most standards. He covers, out of necessity, his expectations, his ground rules, and requirements for the course. He also takes time to get a measure of where everyone is in terms of experience, which fills the rest of the time. At the end, he assigns reading and announces that by the end of next week, he wants everyone to have chosen their first spell to work with.
He makes sure to catch Caleb's eye, sharing a meaningful look, before he dismisses class.
At least Yussa's display manages to get his mind out of the gutter--somewhat paradoxically, given how attractive he finds that elegant bit of magic. After that, Caleb is able to pay attention to what is happening in front of him, drawing a firm line between last night and this morning in his mind. Part of that is that he is legitimately excited about this course. While transmutation is now his primary field of study, there is much about evocation that still interests him, and he has thoughts already on which spell he might choose for the kind of dissection and refinement they'll be doing.
It's almost enough to temper his nerves by the time class ends. Almost. Yussa catches his eye and his stomach flips all over again.
He takes his time packing up, giving the other students time to leave ahead of him. When he glances up to find that he is the only one left, he slings his bag over his shoulder and makes his way down to Yussa at the front of the room.
Though he knows he has technically done nothing wrong, he is still embarrassed, and more than a little concerned about how this might go. His hands twist the strap of his bag. He is wearing his book harness again today, this time with the books, over a plain turtleneck and a flannel shirt that has seen better days, with khakis that fit loosely on his frame. His hair is gathered in a messy bun, and he is very aware of how long it's been since he shaved--not that Yussa seemed to mind that last night. Still, compared to Yussa, sharp and polished, he must look like a slob.
When he is near enough, he dares to meet Yussa's eye again. "I, ah...was not expecting to see you again quite so soon," he says sheepishly, smart enough to keep his voice down.
Yussa plucks up his half-finished cup of tea as Caleb makes his way down from his seat. "You look like you had a long night, Mister Widogast."
There's the barest hint of a smile on Yussa's mouth and a brightness in his eyes that betrays his amusement. This has the potential to complicate things, given the nature of their previous introduction. It doesn't help that his attention flicks to the familiar book harness before he lifts his gaze to Caleb's face again.
"But it is my pleasure to see you again. Do you have another class to get to?" An invitation hangs unspoken, but he will not make it fully if Caleb has somewhere else he needs to be. Whatever his interest, he won't interrupt the younger man's day when the conversation can wait.
That playful quip and the subtle amusement in Yussa's expression serves to put Caleb a little more at ease. "Long, but thoroughly enjoyable," he replies with a subtle but warm curl of his lips. Mister Widogast, he says. Clearly he's glanced over the roster, because Caleb had shared only his first name last night.
Perhaps this won't be quite as uncomfortable as he feared. Yussa was kind to him last night, and it stands to reason that he would be so in this situation as well. Surely they will be able to reach an understanding.
"Not for several more hours." He lets himself feel a little hopeful, though the nerves persist. "I have plenty of time if you would like to, um...talk."
Yussa collects his small file folder of papers from the desk and heads for the classroom door, left open by other students. He receives only a few acknowledgements from passing instructors or administrators - many people know him by name, far fewer know his face particularly well. That will change, of course, the longer he is here. But for now, it allows him a slight anonymity that he prefers.
His office is still somewhat sparse, though there are a few file boxes in a corner that need unpacking. The large window lets in sunlight most of the day and there are a few small crystals dangling on clear wire to catch the light, scattering prisms all over the room at the right hour. It is very much a room that belongs to someone still settling in.
Caleb follows that implicit instruction, shutting the door to Yussa's office behind him. "Ja, tea would be good. Thank you."
Glancing around the room, he wonders what it will look like when Yussa is more settled in. Having been in his home and gotten a sense of his taste that way, he thinks he has a pretty good idea.
But tea apparently was a priority. Given the abandoned cups he'd noticed last night, this doesn't come as a surprise. It's...cute, honestly.
Posture still tense, he hovers near Yussa's desk--or maybe he should call him Professor Errenis? One of a few things he hopes will be clear by the end of this conversation.
Yussa makes a gesture at the kettle to start it heating up again and he takes the lid off of one of the file boxes. He searches through it carefully before he produces another mug. This he sets on the desk, near a small tray with what looks like sugar, honey, and a small bowl of sliced lemons. Condensation on a small earthenware container with a lid suggests something cold inside - possibly cream or milk. From a desk in the drawer, he produces a small wooden box, filled with unlabeled but fragrant bags of tea.
The flurry of energy calms as steam blows out of the spout of the kettle. He pours the hot water and leaves the cup near the box of tea and tray. He'll let Caleb fix it how he likes.
"Sit, please," he says with a gesture at one of the chairs. He intends to replace those as soon as he can, they look uncomfortable. For his part, rather than sitting behind the desk, Yussa leans back against it, remaining on the same side as Caleb.
Caleb sits. The chair is a little uncomfortable, and would probably be hell to sit on for any real length of time. He drags his bag into his lap and looks up at Yussa before glancing away again. His discomfort is probably obvious, and he wishes it wasn't so. But he has been in this position so many times before, and though this is nearly two decades later and a very different situation with a very different man, his damaged brain still makes the connection, and as a result his body isn't quite his own. His heart beats faster, his hands feel sweaty, his arms itch. He hasn't been back in school for very long. It's still hard sometimes, for this very reason.
He waits for Yussa to say something. If they did something wrong, Ikithon had expected them not to speak until spoken to. And though he would like to speak now, though he can acknowledge with logic and observation that there is no reason for him to equate the two, his mind doesn't always follow reason when it comes to these things.
Rather than simply waiting in tense silence, he prepares tea for himself. He is grateful to have something to do with his hands, at least. Yussa has a remarkable selection even here, and Caleb chooses something green and flowery-smelling, a kind he doesn't normally drink, hoping that the taste of something brand new will help him get his head out of the past.
Yussa cannot help but notice the tension that creeps into the way Caleb carries himself. He sips his tea, waiting until Caleb sits back again.
"I found your number this morning," he says, by way of setting the subject at least. "I saved it on my way out the door."
Their position is more precarious now, and Yussa feels the weight of it, as he thinks he should. If Caleb is here, he is a promising student, and the last thing he wants is to stand in the way of that. And this is a position that Yussa has not found himself in for some time, not since he was a student.
He strokes his thumb along the lip of his cup.
"Our... context has clearly changed, and while my interest has not, I am aware that the power dynamic has shifted. I would not want you to feel that you are beholden to me in any way or that my assessment of you as a student will somehow depend on whatever we do or don't do outside of those roles."
As Yussa speaks, something in Caleb shifts, like a mechanism releasing. He holds his mug of steeping tea with both hands to keep himself from touching his arms, but the urge is becoming less prominent. His chest becomes a little lighter, and he feels more...himself, more Caleb, when he looks up at Yussa again and doesn't look away.
He has agency here. He can express his thoughts without fear of reprisal. Yussa is not an unreasonable man; he clearly cares, and he will listen.
There's a little hopeful thrill when Yussa says that his interest hasn't changed. Caleb's hasn't either. If anything, Yussa's candid acknowledgement of the shift in power and how that might impact Caleb has reassured him that his interest isn't misplaced. He liked Yussa last night, and he likes him even more now, once the initial shock has faded.
"You are still welcome to use that number, if you would like," Caleb offers. "Based on our interactions so far, I trust that you would be fair and unbiased about my work, whether we...see one another outside these roles or not." He lifts his tea to his lips without putting anything in it, and it is intensely grassy, with a bitter aftertaste. It certainly does help to clear his mind. "I am very interested in...you," he admits. "But I understand if that is too complicated. I am not sure if there is etiquette regarding personal connections of this sort, or what it might be."
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a night out
Being in a new place has given him cause to explore. He does it at his own pace, but that is how Yussa Errenis finds himself in a certain club. He likes the atmosphere, he feels slightly more comfortable there than he has in other places. The second or third time he goes, he catches sight of a handsome human man, one he is certain he hasn't seen before. It is impossible to miss him after that.
After several scattered nights of eye contact across rooms, the young man with the stunning blue eyes finally finds the courage to make a move. Or maybe it was Yussa who moved first, but in the end it doesn't really matter. What does matter is that they have finally connected.
The young man is... exciting. There is an earnestness about him that Yussa finds attractive. It's easy enough from there to drinks and share flirtation to be certain their interests and intent are the same, and then a bit more than that to gauge chemistry - the conclusion is that they have plenty. And that's likely how they ended up in one of the bathrooms. For some illusion of privacy, they lock themselves behind a stall door. At once Yussa thinks he is too old for this and interested in nothing else the moment Caleb's hands are on him again. Even in heeled boots, Yussa remains a few inches shorter than the other man.
He tries to brace himself against one of the walls as their mouths meet again. This part has become more urgent, and he finds himself welcoming it.
no subject
Though he's found companionship here before, it's been some time since he's been quite this reckless. He tends not to jump into things so quickly, cautious about who he gets close to even temporarily. But Yussa is amazing in a way that he would be a fool to pass up. A little risk is warranted, even demanded. This may be the first time they've met, but Caleb has seen him on several nights over the last few weeks--and he's seen Yussa looking back.
His bare stomach has been drawing Caleb's eye all night, and now it draws his hands. Warm, rough palms frame his waist as Caleb's lips trail from mouth to jaw, then down his neck.
"Let me get on my knees for you," he implores, his voice lowered to a husk. He's been growing aroused since their flirting began to escalate, and pressed against Yussa it is readily apparent how hard he is already in his dark jeans.
no subject
What a sweet thing, begging to get to his knees like that. Yussa pushes Caleb's head back enough to kiss him again. His fingers slide from Caleb's hair to stroke along his jaw.
"Go on," he murmurs. There is no answering hardness there, and Yussa has a momentary flicker of--not uncertainty. But he braces himself to manage this should Caleb decide what he finds is not what he wants. Yussa has been careful to allude to some things, but not everyone catches that. Perhaps he should have been more blunt.
But gods, he wants to see this man on his knees. He's wet, and he hasn't indulged with another person in quite some time.
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He can feel cool tile through his jeans, but it doesn't matter where he is. What matters is Yussa's warm brown skin under his lips as he mouths from his hip to the waist of his pants, where his clever fingers are already working the button open and pulling down the zipper. He wants to taste this man. He wants to lose himself in giving him pleasure and think of nothing else.
Intelligent and observant as he is, Yussa's allusions during conversation and current evidence are more than enough information for Caleb to draw the correct conclusion. There is no surprise and certainly no disappointment when he slides the elf's pants down his thighs and finds his smalls damp. He doesn't hesitate to press his mouth there with a low moan, feeling the heat of his cunt as his tongue wets the fabric still more.
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His free hand presses against the wall behind Caleb for balance. Yussa makes himself relax, releasing that tight hold on the other man's hair though he offers no apology. He'll be more careful, but gods he wants to encourage this. It's been too long since he's had this.
"Come on," he urges, voice tighter than he'd like it to be.
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He needs no further encouragement to get to his task. Single-minded and eager, Caleb's fingers hook into his smalls and draw them down his thighs as well. Finally he puts his mouth exactly where it belongs. His hands clutch at Yussa's hips and his tongue parts his folds in a firm lick, curling as it reaches his clit to roll over it again and again.
The taste of him, the scent of his arousal, and the silky, blood-hot sensitive skin under his mouth--this is everything Caleb wanted. He barely hears the music from the club filtering into the bathroom, but he is hyper-aware of every sound Yussa makes, every twitch of muscle--every demand, voiced or not.
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Yussa must admit to himself that part of the appeal of this is just how pliant Caleb is as he offers himself, his mouth, for use. The temptation to take advantage of the position is almost overwhelming and Yussa tries to refrain--for now. He wants to see what Caleb is capable of without his insistent intervention.
He leans into the hand he has braced against the wall and he allows himself to moan, just loud enough to be heard in the space they share.
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His eyes slip open as he gives an eager suck, attentive and striking blue. Caleb gazes up at the lovely elven man leaning over him and finds he is inevitably enthralled by his eyes in turn. Gold. He'd noticed that stunning feature right away. There is so much more about this man he wants to discover, to know. Perhaps if he proves himself now, he'll be allowed.
The hand cupping the back of his head ensures he stays right where he is, which is just how he likes it. Beyond his obvious physical beauty, the air of effortless authority Yussa possesses is a large part of what he'd found so immediately attractive about him. Caleb is harder than he's been in months just from this, from being used, from being useful to such a man.
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"That's it," he encourages, because such work deserves some praise. Ridiculously, he's excited by the prickle of the other man's beard against his most sensitive places.
He finds he wants very much to get a leg between Caleb's, to feel the press of his hard cock against his boot. But given that his smalls and his trousers are only just down around his thighs, he'll have to save that thought. The last thing he wants is to compromise his balance or change Caleb's position when he is so thoroughly enjoying himself. With a little smirk, his free hand makes a vague gesture and Yussa whispers something that's lost beneath the bass thudding through the walls. But he has a piece of copper wire wrapped around his finger, and a few seconds later Caleb can hear his voice in his ear.
"You look like you belong right where you are," he purrs, managing to sound less breathless than he feels. "Do you want me to come on your face, Caleb?"
Seems polite to ask. Given the sheer skill and enthusiasm of Caleb's mouth, it's going to happen soon. Yussa can feel it building.
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But gods, of course he wants that. Nothing would be more satisfying.
His tongue pulls back to lick Yussa's slick from his lips, and he murmurs a single word for the spell to carry to the other arcanist's ear.
"Please."
He could beg more prettily, but something tells him that Yussa will appreciate his work more than his words. He licks into his cunt like his starving for it. His hands slide from his hips down to his thighs and his tongue presses as deep inside him as he can make it reach. The sensation, all tight velvety heat, draws another helpless moan from Caleb's throat. Reflexive, his hips gives a sharp little rock into empty air, but Caleb hasn't even bothered to open his pants, let alone touch himself. His hands have been on Yussa all this time, squeezing gently and rubbing appreciatively over his soft skin.
While his arousal is persistent and aching, Caleb has deliberately not acknowledged it. In this encounter, it is Yussa's pleasure he finds most gratifying. He wants to dedicate himself fully to that. The needs of his own body are present, enjoyable as background noise, but unimportant.
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It doesn't matter: the effect is the same.
Yussa moans sharply the next time Caleb's lips and tongue find his clit and he shivers hard over the younger man. His hips move rhythmically as he chases his pleasure. It builds to a sharp, delicious crescendo and he presses harder than he means to against the back of Caleb's head as his orgasm snaps through him. Seconds later, his hand goes lax in Caleb's hair, barely holding on at all as he's wracked with pleasure.
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Though it is everything he's been working toward, it almost feels as though Yussa's orgasm happens too soon. Caleb would gladly gladly do this for twice as long--an hour, the rest of the night. But he may be in luck; one thing he's always envied about people with this arrangement of anatomy is their ability to come again and again without the kind of rest in between rounds that he needs. If Yussa is at all interested, Caleb will make him come as many times as he wants to tonight.
Still, the adrenaline-fueled excitement and pure satisfaction that sink through him when Yussa presses hard against him at the moment of his peak is second to nothing. A soft, eager whine lingers in the back of Caleb's throat as his lover's grip goes slack. He keeps the brush of lips and tongue gentle as he works him through it, taking a firm grip on his thighs to make sure Yussa stays on his feet.
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He doesn't move otherwise, save to press his other hand against the wall behind Caleb. He pants for breath, eyes nearly closed as he relishes the pleasure still rolling through him. He stays like that, possibly for too long considering it keeps Caleb on his knees. But, after another moment, Yussa eases back to lean against the opposite wall - thankfully not very far in the small stall - so that Caleb can at least get up without knocking him over.
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first day
That leaves him striding through the halls to get to his first classroom. The seminar room is smaller than most lecture halls, but still arranged like one with stadium seating to allow all students a clear view of the front of the room and the boards on three sides of it. It's a fair number of students for an advanced class: he has twenty on the roster, but he's quite sure the number will whittle down in the first few weeks and again at midterms.
There are soft murmurs before Yussa Errenis sweeps into the room just a minute after the class was scheduled to start. He does not apologize for being late, but he does set down the cup of tea he's had in his hand since he left his office, along with a file folder.
"This is special topics in advancing evocation - if that does not sound familiar, I suggest you leave quickly and find where you are meant to be," he says as he arranges his roster and another piece of paper on the desk in front of him. Only then does his gaze flick up and--
He meets a pair of very familiar blue eyes. There's the briefest flash of recognition, but nothing more as Yussa's attention drifts across the rest of the room.
A tentative hand raises elsewhere in the classroom and he acknowledges it with a lifted brow.
"Did you mean advanced evocation, Professor?"
Yussa's brow arches further.
"I said what I meant. And that will be the last time anyone questions my choice of words in this room."
The human student who asked sinks down in their chair as Yussa turns away to write on one of the boards.
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He knows he tends to get...overly focused on certain things and certain people too quickly, but it is far easier to acknowledge this flaw in himself than to actually mitigate it. So of course, he hasn't been able to stop thinking about Yussa. He said he wanted to see him again. He'd scrawled his name and phone number on a note pad by the couch after he dressed; hopefully Yussa has been able to find it. Though he knows he'll feel his phone vibrate in his pocket if he gets a text, he's been reflexively pulling it out to check his messages every fifteen minutes exactly this morning. Just in case.
But gods, that is pathetic, he knows it is. If Yussa is even awake yet, he has his own life, and he is probably not the type whose first priority is texting someone he'd just got done fucking less than twelve hours ago. Stay on task, Widogast. At least he manages to scrape some focus together by the time class actually starts.
Which is why it is all the more shocking when the man who has been on his mind all morning strides briskly into the room.
Just as Caleb is beginning to understand that the hot older wizard he hooked up with last night is apparently his hot evocation professor, he glances up, and their eyes meet. Though it lasts less than a second, it feels like a shock to his system. It feels like lightning down his spine, like his heart dropping into his stomach, mystifying and bewildering and more than a little absurd. But really, once those eyes move on and Caleb gets to actually think again, it isn't much of a stretch. He should have known this was a possibility. How many wizards of Yussa's caliber live in Rexxentrum and don't have some connection to the Academy?
Professor Y. Errenis, he remembers reading. Yussa Errenis. Of course.
Caleb's shoulders hunch a little further inward as he sinks an inch down into his seat. Fuck. No matter what, this ruins something he was really looking forward to. He doesn't want to drop this class. And as ridiculous as it might seem when it's been such a short time, he was hopeful about seeing Yussa again. Just not like this.
Still, he can't help noticing how good he looks today, and how ridiculously attractive he is as he effortlessly sets expectations and takes charge. Gods, even if he can stay in this class, if this is how it is going to be, he is fucked. He can't very well spend his time in this room for several hours several times a week thinking about bending his professor over that desk and eating him out just because he knows how good his cunt tastes and how he moans when he sucks his clit. He cannot sit here remembering how his words slurred in Elvish as his cock fucked him open, how his trembling legs squeezed tight around his waist to make sure he'd come inside him. He can't, or he's going to get hard right now looking at his professor, and that is not an option.
His best bet, he decides, is to follow Yussa's lead and do his absolute fucking best not to acknowledge that anything is amiss here at all. At least until class is over. They...should probably talk when class is over. They'll have to, won't they?
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Yussa turns then, plucking what looks like a piece of ice or white stone from an unseen pocket while his other hand makes a somatic gesture. He speaks quickly, and across the room - around a student who's chosen to sit away from the others, a five-foot sphere of freezing cloud appears--but the student who should be in the center of it remains unaffected, though they are wide-eyed.
"This includes how to protect someone who may be in the wrong place at the wrong time."
The cloud dissipates and Yussa sees he has the rapt attention of most of the room now. Good.
"Shall we begin?"
Given that it is the first day, Yussa's demonstration is the first and last exciting thing to happen by most standards. He covers, out of necessity, his expectations, his ground rules, and requirements for the course. He also takes time to get a measure of where everyone is in terms of experience, which fills the rest of the time. At the end, he assigns reading and announces that by the end of next week, he wants everyone to have chosen their first spell to work with.
He makes sure to catch Caleb's eye, sharing a meaningful look, before he dismisses class.
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It's almost enough to temper his nerves by the time class ends. Almost. Yussa catches his eye and his stomach flips all over again.
He takes his time packing up, giving the other students time to leave ahead of him. When he glances up to find that he is the only one left, he slings his bag over his shoulder and makes his way down to Yussa at the front of the room.
Though he knows he has technically done nothing wrong, he is still embarrassed, and more than a little concerned about how this might go. His hands twist the strap of his bag. He is wearing his book harness again today, this time with the books, over a plain turtleneck and a flannel shirt that has seen better days, with khakis that fit loosely on his frame. His hair is gathered in a messy bun, and he is very aware of how long it's been since he shaved--not that Yussa seemed to mind that last night. Still, compared to Yussa, sharp and polished, he must look like a slob.
When he is near enough, he dares to meet Yussa's eye again. "I, ah...was not expecting to see you again quite so soon," he says sheepishly, smart enough to keep his voice down.
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There's the barest hint of a smile on Yussa's mouth and a brightness in his eyes that betrays his amusement. This has the potential to complicate things, given the nature of their previous introduction. It doesn't help that his attention flicks to the familiar book harness before he lifts his gaze to Caleb's face again.
"But it is my pleasure to see you again. Do you have another class to get to?" An invitation hangs unspoken, but he will not make it fully if Caleb has somewhere else he needs to be. Whatever his interest, he won't interrupt the younger man's day when the conversation can wait.
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Perhaps this won't be quite as uncomfortable as he feared. Yussa was kind to him last night, and it stands to reason that he would be so in this situation as well. Surely they will be able to reach an understanding.
"Not for several more hours." He lets himself feel a little hopeful, though the nerves persist. "I have plenty of time if you would like to, um...talk."
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Yussa collects his small file folder of papers from the desk and heads for the classroom door, left open by other students. He receives only a few acknowledgements from passing instructors or administrators - many people know him by name, far fewer know his face particularly well. That will change, of course, the longer he is here. But for now, it allows him a slight anonymity that he prefers.
His office is still somewhat sparse, though there are a few file boxes in a corner that need unpacking. The large window lets in sunlight most of the day and there are a few small crystals dangling on clear wire to catch the light, scattering prisms all over the room at the right hour. It is very much a room that belongs to someone still settling in.
"You may close the door. Tea?"
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Glancing around the room, he wonders what it will look like when Yussa is more settled in. Having been in his home and gotten a sense of his taste that way, he thinks he has a pretty good idea.
But tea apparently was a priority. Given the abandoned cups he'd noticed last night, this doesn't come as a surprise. It's...cute, honestly.
Posture still tense, he hovers near Yussa's desk--or maybe he should call him Professor Errenis? One of a few things he hopes will be clear by the end of this conversation.
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The flurry of energy calms as steam blows out of the spout of the kettle. He pours the hot water and leaves the cup near the box of tea and tray. He'll let Caleb fix it how he likes.
"Sit, please," he says with a gesture at one of the chairs. He intends to replace those as soon as he can, they look uncomfortable. For his part, rather than sitting behind the desk, Yussa leans back against it, remaining on the same side as Caleb.
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He waits for Yussa to say something. If they did something wrong, Ikithon had expected them not to speak until spoken to. And though he would like to speak now, though he can acknowledge with logic and observation that there is no reason for him to equate the two, his mind doesn't always follow reason when it comes to these things.
Rather than simply waiting in tense silence, he prepares tea for himself. He is grateful to have something to do with his hands, at least. Yussa has a remarkable selection even here, and Caleb chooses something green and flowery-smelling, a kind he doesn't normally drink, hoping that the taste of something brand new will help him get his head out of the past.
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"I found your number this morning," he says, by way of setting the subject at least. "I saved it on my way out the door."
Their position is more precarious now, and Yussa feels the weight of it, as he thinks he should. If Caleb is here, he is a promising student, and the last thing he wants is to stand in the way of that. And this is a position that Yussa has not found himself in for some time, not since he was a student.
He strokes his thumb along the lip of his cup.
"Our... context has clearly changed, and while my interest has not, I am aware that the power dynamic has shifted. I would not want you to feel that you are beholden to me in any way or that my assessment of you as a student will somehow depend on whatever we do or don't do outside of those roles."
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He has agency here. He can express his thoughts without fear of reprisal. Yussa is not an unreasonable man; he clearly cares, and he will listen.
There's a little hopeful thrill when Yussa says that his interest hasn't changed. Caleb's hasn't either. If anything, Yussa's candid acknowledgement of the shift in power and how that might impact Caleb has reassured him that his interest isn't misplaced. He liked Yussa last night, and he likes him even more now, once the initial shock has faded.
"You are still welcome to use that number, if you would like," Caleb offers. "Based on our interactions so far, I trust that you would be fair and unbiased about my work, whether we...see one another outside these roles or not." He lifts his tea to his lips without putting anything in it, and it is intensely grassy, with a bitter aftertaste. It certainly does help to clear his mind. "I am very interested in...you," he admits. "But I understand if that is too complicated. I am not sure if there is etiquette regarding personal connections of this sort, or what it might be."
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