Fandom: Professor Layton
Rating: R FOR SEXUALITY
Word Count: 1911
Disclaimer: I don't own Professor Layton. Or his top-hat of awesome.
Teaser: It's true what they say. A lot can happen in one night. (This chapter is completely optional.)
It was reminiscent of that night in the tent for pace, gentleness, sweetness. Lucas’ mind was well enough to recognize what this meant, that Leighton was either taking pity on him or simply giving in (he hoped to his own desires, not just Lucas’), but at the same time, his mind was still just fevered enough to not really care beyond one simple fact.
I want this.
And so he tried to take a bit of initiative, letting his tongue tease its way past Leighton’s lips to draw him out from behind the cage of his teeth. And for several minutes, he was perfectly content with that. But as that same odd feeling flared in the pit of his stomach, like that time when they were on the ground amidst the brush and dirt in the middle of nowhere after an argument had become a struggle…
His hands slid to the Professor’s back. He hadn’t really touched before, not like this, and so let himself linger there for a moment, enjoying the feel of muscles moving beneath warm skin. Then his hands began to move and wander and press them together.
Finally the kiss broke in favor of mouths seeking other places, testing the waters and seeing what worked. Lucas gasped when the Professor found a particularly sensitive spot by his ear, and he felt the Professor tense when Lucas latched onto the spot where his pulse raced at his throat.
Just as Lucas was starting to wonder exactly how far this was going to go, he felt the careful pressure of a leg sliding between his own, pressing up against him, and he moaned softly and pushed back. It was only then that he realized how turned on he really was. If Leighton was getting this kind of a reaction out of him just by kissing him like that, then he could barely even imagine what other things would feel like in that same slow, careful way. The frenzied moment spent on the jungle floor, pleasant as it admittedly was, seemed light years away from this.
God, he wanted this, wanted all of it…but did Leighton? Or was this just pity, a guilty action performed simply because of his own stupidity and childishness. He tried to ask, but the words were lost in a sharp intake of breath as the thigh pressed harder and a tongue flicked back against that same spot on his ear, and the thought was lost for good.
When Leighton eased back, he made a sound of frustration that was soon swallowed up as hands went under his shirt, sliding over his stomach for a moment before moving upwards to draw the garment over his head. It was quickly tossed aside, and the hands were back. Not to be outdone, Lucas fumbled for a moment before managing to get enough of a hold on Leighton’s shirt to tug it up and off as well, and was relieved that there were no protests at all.
He felt like he should say something. But it was proving increasingly difficult to keep his thoughts on any sort of track. Instead, he slid his hands down Leighton’s stomach, pausing at the top of the man’s pants, ghosting his nervous fingers over the skin there. Hearing the Professor make a small noise decided him, and he undid the button, eased the zipper down…
Leighton made another sound, almost a growl, and caught Lucas’ mouth again before letting go of him with one hand and reaching over to turn the shower on. And then clever hands were quickly divesting him of his own pants.
Oh yeah… Lucas thought muzzily. I said I wanted a shower…
It only took another moment for the two to tug the rest of their clothes off; a pair of jeans and a pair of sweatpants joined two T-shirts in an unceremonious heap on the floor. Lucas grabbed the Professor by the back of the head and dragged him down for another kiss in lieu of a way to drag him into the shower and under the spray of warm water.
The water did feel good on a purely hygenic level, especially considering Lucas’ bedridden status for the last couple of days. But practicality had long since been thrown out the mental window in favor of more important issues. And he was more caught up in the fact that having his back pressed against the tiled wall and a body then pressed against his in a shower stall that was really barely big enough for one person, let alone two.
Though that did guarantee that they could stay close, and he liked that.
For what felt like ages, they simply stood there under the water, arms entwined and mouths sealed together while tongues battled for supremacy. Then Lucas felt a hand moving slowly down his back with a feather-light touch, past his waist, and a finger touching—
He actually broke the kiss and let his head fall back with a gasp at his first taste of penetration. It was an odd feeling, but not bad. Not bad at all. Even when a second finger joined the first, the stinging sensation didn’t last long, and he was already so aroused he could barely see straight.
“Shh…” he faintly heard the Professor murmur the word near his ear, and he remembered where they were and how close they were to others. If anyone heard them, saw them, found them like this now…
Lucas quickly bit his lip to keep himself from letting out any incriminating sounds. But god, he wanted more. It felt good, but it wasn’t quite doing it. He needed, wanted…
It suddenly occurred to him that he had not yet actually seen the Professor. He had kissed the man, gone further, and was now probably a step away from actual sex, and had not actually gotten a chance to look at the Professor. He pitched forward slightly, putting his forehead to Leighton’s shoulder and looking down at him while the hand not currently doing incredible things with those long fingers ran over his back, through his wet hair, soothing and comfortable.
God, I want you…
Lucas thought that he merely thought the words, horrifically trite as they were, but he felt the Professor tense, and realized that he might have said them out loud. He wished that he had enough presence of mind left to be embarrassed about that, but all he really could do was nuzzle into the crook of that elegant neck and push back against fingers that had cruelly stopped what they were doing.
And he kept watching, looking down Leighton’s body (it was spellbinding, really) while the fingers withdrew (and he nearly voiced his frustrations aloud at that). And he turned his head slightly to watch as Leighton grabbed a bottle from the shelf on the wall. The shampoo?
…ohhh yes right that was important…
Lucas got his answer as the Professor dipped his fingers in the shampoo and against pressed them against him, inside him, sliding in with ease. It still wasn’t enough, though, and Lucas belatedly realized that he was grabbing the bottle, pouring some in his hands, and reaching out—
He heard Leighton gasp, felt him tense at the touch, and it pleased Lucas to an almost ridiculous degree that he was having that effect on the man. So he kept doing it, spreading the stuff with long, slow strokes that moved from base to tip.
A hand touched his hip and pulled to turn him around, and he willingly obeyed. His hands went to the shower wall to support his weight; arms were around him at his waist and shoulders while something pressed up against him. There was a moment of hesitation before he felt the Professor move—
…oh good god that hurt oh god it hurt…
Lucas’ teeth immediately clamped down on his lower lip to keep himself from making a sound. This hurt a hell of a lot more than he thought it would, but it wasn’t necessarily unbearable. And the man was good enough to stay still after the initial intrusion, allowing him a moment to adjust. He could feel Leighton pressing against him, trembling with the effort of holding back; the Professor’s breath was hot and coarse against the back of Lucas’ neck.
After a minute, he shifted and reached back to grasp at the Professor’s hip with one hand, hoping to god that the message got across. It did, and they began to move. It took a few seconds of awkward thrusting before they finally found a rhythm that kept them in sync with each other.
Trying to keep quiet was the biggest part of it all, Lucas realized, what with each thrust brushing against something that was sending jolts of electricity up and down his spine. He wanted to cry out and tell the man exactly what it felt like, but that would have been the worst thing he could do. So he panted, made breathy little sounds, and whispered things. His mind was too far gone with arousal to know exactly what the words were, though.
But judging by the way those confoundedly beautiful fingers slipped around him and began to stroke, he was pretty sure that he was begging. He shifted a bit, adjusted his footing—
And saw stars as the next thrust hit that something dead-on and his knees nearly went out from under him. He would have screamed out loud if a hand hadn’t actually covered his mouth to muffle the sound as Lucas came, the sensation hard and intense enough that he almost blacked out from the force of it. A moment later, he heard a low groan behind him, and felt Leighton release, still buried inside him.
…as he slumped against the wall with the Professor pressed flush against his back, it took Lucas’ mind a few moments to catch up with everything else. He had just had sex with Professor Leighton. In the shower. In their camper. At an archaeological excavation site.
Deep down, Lucas’ inner teenager was doing backflips of sheer hormonal glee.
Hands were moving him again, turning him around, shutting off the water, brushing his wet hair back. He felt a kiss press against his forehead, cheek, lips…and then the hands were moving him again, guiding him out of the shower. And Lucas found he was powerless to resist their will.
Suddenly, all he really wanted to do was sleep.
As if reading his mind (though he didn’t think anything like that was possible, given the haze that was keeping him so fuzzy and happy), the hands led him down to his end of the trailer and got him onto his bed. A blanket was pulled up against him, and the hands were leaving why were they going away…
Lucas reached out with fumbling hands and grabbed for the Professor. He might have asked or begged him not to go. He wasn’t really sure. Nothing seemed to be making any actual connections anymore, aside from one simple wish: he didn’t want the Professor to go.
Another kiss brushed against his temple, and a soft baritone voice was murmuring things that might have been reassurances or promises or hell, wishes of pleasant dreams, he didn’t even know. He just knew that it was the Professor’s voice, and the Professor was here, and that was all…
…he needed to know…