akinkalangirog-blog

[akinkalangirog-blog]

the student/teacher trope

warning: dub-con

Epy wakes and immediately regrets it. It’s far too early and the sun hasn’t even risen yet. He could’ve gone a few more hours without feeling the throbbing ache between his legs, the tacky feel of drying come in him, smeared down the insides of his thighs. He nearly flinches when Mon grunts beside him, the arm slung possessively across Epy’s belly pulling him in just a tiny bit closer, a lot tighter.

“Anong oras na ba? Ba’t gising ka na?” Mon shifts and starts knuckling the sleep from his eyes, he looks disheveled and unguarded, he looks even younger like this. Epy doesn’t need the reminder.

“Wala, naalimpungatan lang. Matulog ka na ulit.” He flushes a deep red. His voice sounds like he gargled gravel.

Mon grins at him, smug and boyish and obnoxious all at the same time. “Putangina pano kasi halos tumili ka kagabi teach.” Epy doesn’t dignify that with a response and instead tries to wriggle away discreetly when he feels the teenager’s hand creep underneath the sheets. “San ka pupunta? Halika dito.” Mon frowns and tugs him closer, hands overbearingly proprietary as he spreads Epy’s thighs apart to make space for himself.

He bites back a whimper, Mon’s fingers are rubbing against his hole now, tugging roughly at his rim. Epy aches there, he feels so very open still, swollen and used. Mon didn’t let up at all this entire weekend and kept Epy in bed this whole time. “Please, tama na muna.” Mon just shakes his head as if he found the plea completely ridiculous. Epy can’t blame him really, Mon is a teenager after all with an unlimited supply of ass at his beck and call. Even so, a little respite would be nice. “M-Mon sandali lang. Parating na ang parents mo, kelangan ko ng umuwi.”

The look Mon gives him effectively stills and silences Epy. “Kelangan na naman ba kitang paalalahanan Mr. Quizon?”

Epy regrets everything. He regrets accepting Mon as student. He regrets not locking his laptop when he went out to smoke that fucking cig. He regrets not quitting right there and then when Mon (not even 16 then) threatened  he would tell his parents about a fabricated tale of molestation and rape if Epy doesn’t kneel and start sucking his dick. He regrets not punching the kid in his lying mouth every single time he’d say Epy looks like he’s made for taking dick. He regrets not even trying to snatch the camera away when Mon showed him dozens of videos of Epy moaning like a whore underneath his underage student. He should’ve done so many things but he didn’t and now here he is.

“Mon, hanggang kelan?” He does whimper this time, because Mon is three fingers deep in him now and he’s not being gentle about it at all.

Mon is looming over him. Epy is still taken aback by how much the kid has grown, he’s taller than Epy now, thicker and stronger and unlike two years ago, if it came down to it, he doesn’t think he’d be able to break away this time even if he wanted to.

The grin on Mon’s face is dark and mean when he says, “Sir tuwad na po. Assume the position.”

Epy shivers, closes his eyes in defeat and does what he’s told.