It's Sunday! I can't believe its Sunday and here I am rotting away in the library! Darn you Professor Mukhuty. That guy can dole out assignments like it's nobody's business. How different would it have been to allow us to submit the papers on Tuesday instead of Monday! Would have been a damn sight easier if I could get an access to the University library where the required texts were in their proper places instead of me trudging along to this library where no one under the age of 50 ever ventured in their right minds?
No reading lights except for the hanging tube lights, casting an unnatural white glow over the centre of the huge table just gave me the creeps. There were wooden ladders with wheels, for us to reach to the top shelves; and believe you me, there were a few too many shelves on top of the other. Why not build a second floor instead of having like twenty rows of books per shelf?
The whole place looked like it was decorated from the set decorations for one of those period movies, you know, the ones where, to see skin, you would have to peel off at least half a dozen layers of clothing off the body; male or female. Every time I heard the clacking of heels on the cold stone floor, I expected to see the librarian rounding the corner dressed in a huge ruffled dress, with high collars and an enormous skirt.
'Excuse me, is this seat taken?'
The soft, deep voice was definitely not of the librarian; who incidentally was a very nice young lady, dressed in a pencil skirt and a suitable while blouse. Whoever it was that asked me the question, had some real crooked sense of humour. The entire library was empty, well part from the two really ancient gentlemen near the windows and myself, and this person was asking if a seat was empty?
'What do...'
I gasped at the sight, the smart retort dying on my lips. Blacker than the blackest eyes stared at me, a grin on pale lips that could be only described as... naughty! The sunburnt face was decorated with pale-er marks: scars. I hadn't ever seen anyone that carried off scars that well.
Oh and ruffles? He had quite a few of them! His shirt looked like the ones from my imagination, the ones I'd seen boys wear to a few medieval themed dances: the only time those hideous frills didn't look out of place. They'd even looked weird in the restaurant when the guys had gone for dinner before getting to the event.
Talking about weird, somehow, the half unzipped leather jacket on top of the shirt and the tight, almost moulded to his butt leather trousers should have looked so; but it didn't! It didn't seem even a hair was out of the place with the guy standing in the library, right in front of me, a heavy book in his hand, totally looking in his element while he took me in with his eyes, an eyebrow cocked.
The need to touch was too much, way too much! The way his eyes wouldn't stop roving over me, narrowing only a little when he met my own eyes. I believe if my gaze had hands, he would be stripped naked by now; naked and pressed up against me. My hands clenched into fists when he gasped, his all too kissable lips parting with the sudden escape of his breath, his free hand dropping to his side, his fingers twitching.
Dragging my eyes to where they were fixed on the area just under his intricate silver eagle carved belt buckle to his face, I saw his eyes fixed on my very uninteresting buckle, or was it a little lower? As if on cue, my cock decided it was time to draw some attention to himself, I felt him twitch and lengthen.
'Shit!' I hissed out. I was so painfully hard, and my cock brushing against in the inside of my pants, trying to break free of its confines just seemed to make me harder. If that was even possible.
'Oh Fuck!' His eyes widened at the tiny movement that I was well aware that he caught; it was kind of hard to miss with his eyes where they were fixated!
I had no idea who made the first move, a muted thud of his book hitting the table and our hands were a tangle of who could reach the other's skin first. It was that race that left us panting, talk about exertion!
It was all too easy for him to latch onto my throat and bury his hands under my shirt, exploring every sensitive inch of me. I was too busy trying to guide him to the corner, you know, that corner of the library, where no one ever goes, well no one other than people in situations like I was in right then. I couldn't stifle the sound that made its way out of my throat; I don't think I ever made a sound like that in my life, ever. It was somewhat of a mixture of a groan, a scream and a hiss.
'More!' I panted. I wanted, no... I needed more, so much more! And he was pushing all the right buttons. I hadn't even had his jacket all the way off his shoulders; I couldn't, not with his hands under my shirt, his long, slender fingers doing indescribable things to my nipples, my navel and the almost hairless area in between. Like I said... he was pushing, and pulling all the right buttons.
