August smirked, stroking him a bit faster in his dry grip. Lucas hissed at the pleasure-pain sensation, his head falling back, lids closing, jaw going slack.
“There we go,” August purred.He turned fully in his seat, stopping briefly to switch hands—sometimes being ambidextrous was so helpful—so he could tangle the other in Lucas’s slightly too-long hair, tongue trailing up the side of his neck then sucking on his earlobe. “You’re already doing so well for me. You’re, by far, my hottest student.”
August’s own dick strained against his zipper just from watching his husband fall apart. He was always beautiful, but especially so like this, chest heaving, lips parted, writhing beneath his touch, tiny little sounds escaping against his will.
August took his time, alternating between slow deliberate strokes, and quick flicks of his wrist. His hands tightened and loosened in Lucas’s hair as he sucked marks into this skin that would be impossible to hide later and whispered filthy things into his ear.
“I love how you look when you’re unraveling. I love that I’m the only one who ever gets to watch you fall apart like this. The way your whole body becomes mine. Nobody else knows how you whimper for me when I touch you like this, the way you bite your lip raw, how wet you get?—”
“Professor…” Lucas gasped, his hips working as he thrust into August’s fist, moaning low when his thumb swept across the head of his cock.
“-the way your voice gets breathy and desperate and your whole body trembles.”
August used the wetness drooling down his cock to ease the glide of his hand, thumb swiping over the head every third or fourth stroke just the way his husband liked it.
“I’m not gonna last,” Lucas warned.
August glanced at the time, there were going to be stuck another fifteen minutes at least. “Well that won’t do,” he murmured.
He stopped working him, loosening his grip to keep Lucas from fucking into his fist. Lucas whined, then choked out a desperate, “Why?”
“I’m distracting you,” August said, biting at his throat, then using the hand in his hair to force him to look at him, before capturing his mouth in a kiss that was like well-practiced choreography at this point.
They’d done this a million different times in a million different ways but no matter how their lips met and parted, it never grew boring. Exploring Lucas’s mouth, tasting coffee or toothpaste on his tongue, feeling him sigh into his mouth or swallowing his cries as he came hard was still so hot to him. He couldn’t imagine ever wanting anyone the way he did his husband.
“Please,” Lucas begged, hips restless as he tried to fuck August’s loosened fist.
“Since you asked so nicely,” he teased, tightening his grip.
He groaned as Lucas reached over to palm at the bulge in August’s now much too tight trousers.
“I wish I could fuck you right now,” Lucas whispered against his lips. “My head always goes quiet when I’m inside you, feeling both of our pleasure makes it impossible to care about anything else. It feels like it's been forever.”
August worked him with efficient strokes, biting at his plush bottom lip. “It was yesterday in the shower,” he recalled.
Lucas nodded rapidly, even as he pressed their foreheads together, seemingly too distracted to keep kissing with August dragging him to the point of no return. “Like I said,” he panted. “Forever.”
August laughed, feeling a little breathless himself with Lucas running his thumb along the ridge of his cock. “Fuck, I wish we were home.”
Lucas nodded. “Me, too.”
His tongue swiped across the seam of August’s lips. He opened for him immediately, the scent of his husband’s cologne making him feel high.
“Fuck. Fuck. I’m so close. Please don’t stop this time,” Lucas begged.
“I won’t,” August promised, no longer stroking him but letting him fuck his hand.
He dropped his hand between the seats, blindly feeling for the box they kept in the backseat, hand snagging the tissues and covering his husband’s cock just as he came hard over his fist with a cry.
Lucas’s stomach clenched and relaxed as he rode out his orgasm. August gently cleaned him up, then righted his clothes, before reaching for the hand sanitizer to clean his own hands of the sticky mess the tissue missed.
Lucas was reaching for August’s zipper when the car in front of them began to move.
“Later,” August said, giving him a reassuring smile. “I’m okay.”
Lucas nodded, dropping another lingering kiss on August’s lips as he righted himself in the driver’s seat. He bit back a smile as Lucas cued up a Chappell Roan song and began to hum along quietly, watching the world pass out the passenger window until they arrived at the school.
St. Agnes Prep looked exactly like the kind of school that used to be for boys only, stone arches, saints with missing fingers, a brass plaque listing every headmaster since 1894. The new banners—STEM for Girls,Inclusivity Week—hung like polite apologies over a century of marble testosterone. Thebuilding’s air carried that faint blend of beeswax, old wood, and sanctimony, the smell of money pretending to be virtue.
