Nights at Newtnose 2: The Conundrum
The meadow's magic persisted after we stepped out of the ivy door and back into the Witchwood. I was ahead of Stanton on the path through the ferns, and once we reached the bottom he embraced me from behind.
"I watched your ass all the way down," he said into my ear. He pressed his groin into me; I felt his hard member between my buttocks. His forearms were like iron, one just above my breasts crossing my sternum, his other just below and pulling me into him. His stubbled chin nestled between my shoulder and my neck, and I felt his breath run over the front of my robes. He nuzzled me with his nose and inhaled.
"We have to get back," I whispered. I moaned as he ran his hand over my pubis and vulva. I still smelled like him, like his sweat, and he still smelled like
me
.
"Do we, though?" and he sighed. He released me and I kissed him. He grabbed my ass and his chest flexed against my own. His muscular body engulfed me, and I wanted to stay between his arms until we both dissolved into the evening. But the same doubt from before floated through my mind like a leaf in the breeze, and I knew the charm was gradually wearing off.
I kissed him harder, trying to preserve the magic which I knew would wane. I ran my hand over the large bulge in his trousers--felt his thick, hot cock which not long before had been deep between my legs. I wanted to pull it out, wrap my lips around it; I wanted to coil myself around him, feel his pelvis press against mine, wanted to feel his fingers on my bare skin and surrender to those tingles and flashes which had already overcome me in the meadow.
But I thought of what I was risking; I thought of his own. I sucked his lower lip, felt his sandpaper cheeks against the smoothness of my own and breathed him slowly like a good wine. I opened my eyes and he opened his. I fell into them, but just as quickly resurfaced.
His hands rested on my hips instead of gripping my ass. His eyes floated above mine rather than flickering over my body. I knew it then: the Professor and student who had told each other that they couldn't had returned.
We both sighed. He ran a finger through my hair tentatively, and I ran my two hands up his chest. The sureness of our previous explorations receded, but I still felt his strength and passion, still wanted to give myself to him. As much as I knew we had to stay off of each other, I knew there was no way I could guarantee that. Looking into his eyes, I knew he couldn't guarantee it either.
It wasn't an entirely awkward return to the castle. The extreme physical closeness we'd been allowed by the rune contrasted with how little we knew about each other. More doubts like more leaves drifted into my attention: he had never told me his first name, though I knew it from the papers, and he hadn't yet called me by my own.
Miss Nolet, Miss Nolet
--it bounced around in the back of my mind like a finch searching for worms.
Through the woods we talked about superficial things: our favorite runebooks, the weather, what we were looking forward to in our studies. As we spoke and the canopy above us lightened, shadows cast over his leather vest and blue shirt, sharpening the angles of his body. Those same angles an hour ago thrusting into me, holding me, gripping my hair--how the fuck were we going to figure this out?
Up spiral staircases, through hallways, past jealous witches--I waved to a few living portraits I'd already met, Ogre Bill and Half-Maid Seresy--and we were at his office door. He turned to me with an apologetic smile.
"One second," he said. He entered his office and shut the door behind him. I heard a muffled voice, the closing of a metal door. The closing and opening of others, the chime of one of the four standing clocks (presumably). I heard a small clink. Confused, I knocked. "Professor?"
I heard the rapid shuffle of his feet and he opened the door. He waved me in.
"We have approximately ten minutes," he said, "before Mr. Serk floats through my door. By then you'll need to be quite far away from here."
I hesitated to sit in the chair in front of Stanton's desk and looked at him quizzically. He sat behind his desk. "Come here," he said.
I made to sit in the chair, but he stopped me. "No, here," and he waved me over to him.
I sat hesitantly on his right thigh. He rested one hand on my hip as his other curled around my knee. I lightly touched his arm as he gazed at my exposed collarbone. He pressed his forehead against my chest.
He leaned his body away and looked me in the eyes.
"I remember what we agreed to," he said, "before activating the rune. But I also remember what I said
after
the rune. I honestly don't know what to do. I know what I
want
to do."
My heart jumped. "Then do it," I said thoughtlessly.
He smiled, but there was a sadness in it, too. "I wish we could." He paused, and looked away pensively.
"But I know what you feel like," he said. "I know what you sound like, what you
taste
like."
"And now I know what
you
taste like," and I kissed him. "What
you
sound like." He ran his hand slowly down my thigh and inhaled deeply. I ran my fingers along his cheek.
"But I feel," I said, "that this won't be clear cut. It wasn't all
just
the rune."
"I feel that too," and he stroked my chin with his thumb. That hesitation flashed through his eyes, though, reflecting my own doubts. His role, his power over me; his position, and consequently my power over
him
.
His eyes flickered. "Pay attention in class," he said. "Not just the material, but the behavior of your Professors and the methods of their instruction." His eyes almost glazed over, like that ice had frozen after a temporary thaw. He briefly fixed them on the edge of his desk, but he looked at me and they glinted like split quartz. "Be careful."
I shuffled backwards in his lap. "What are you talking about?" I thought of what he could have been doing on the other side of the door while I stood in the hallway. I looked around: all was mostly the same, but the four standing clocks, Gaur and the brass hook he hung by were missing. "Is something up? Where's Gaur?"
"No, no," and he looked away. "Don't worry about Gaur, he's fine," and he waved his hand in the air dismissively. "This school is tough. Just stay on your toes. We'll be in the field more, the charms and curses you'll encounter--"
Something vibrated within a large drawer in his desk. He glanced towards the noise and to the door, then looked at me. "You need to hide."
"Excuse me?"
He glanced at the door again. I turned towards it, and a ghostly hand seemed to slowly be pushing its way through. He pressed me off of his lap and I retreated under his desk.
"Stanton, oh
Stanton
," I heard from Mr. Serk. A watchful apparition, he served in some capacity underneath Headmistress Deware. I wasn't entirely sure what that capacity was, though, and the idea that Stanton couldn't control when the ghost would enter his office surprised me.
"Hello, Serk."
"It appears you've had another malfunction?" His voice dripped in contempt.
"Oh, have I?"
Stanton jiggled his foot, and the inside of his leg rubbed up and down against the outside of my own. I sat almost cross-legged, hidden between his legs. Small drops of ink had stained the rich green carpet under his desk.
The curling wisp of Serk's lower half floated through the top of the desk. "We won't be having another repeat of last year, will we?"
A twang of excitement and dread rang in my chest. Serk could sink right through the desk, could discover me hidden there like some tucked away thing. That excitement twanged again, and Stanton shifted in his seat. I spied the dark outline of his cock beneath his pants inches from my face. I squeezed my legs together.
"Of course not," said Stanton. "I've already spoken with Headmistress Deware. I'm sure that the maintenance trolls will be alerted, and within the next thirty minutes I'll have several of them taking apart my office for the, what is it, seventh time?"
"But of course. I'm sure they've missed you since last term. I'm sure plenty others, too."
Another twang, and a surge of adrenaline. What if I touched him, dragged a finger across his thigh?
"Gotten to know them quite well, yes. Now, if you wouldn't mind."
I stroked his thigh and his leg twitched. I ran my hand slowly to his groin, savoring his heat on my palm. My chest and face burned as I watched his cock elongate and thicken against his leg under his pants.
He scooted himself towards me. My nose nearly touched his groin, and I smelled his arousal. His dick slid upwards in his trousers, pointing straight up and along his zipper, barely contained by thin fabric. I placed my hands on both sides of his long shaft and slowly stroked upwards, my thumbs overlapping and massaging the underside of his member.
"The Headmistress is watching," said Serk, and the light-green wisp of his lower body disappeared from the desk. I heard his voice recede towards the door. "It's important you follow the guidelines laid before you. No more
transgressions
."
My mind went blank. I placed one hand under his balls and massaged them with my fingers while stroking him. I opened my mouth and licked him over his pants--the linen was warm from his member and felt rough against my tongue. I rubbed his thighs as I slid my tongue up and down his twitching shaft.
"I'm aware, Serk," said Stanton calmly. I quietly unzipped him and his cock flicked thickly onto my face. I wrapped my hands around it, needing its heat and girth, unsure what was coming over me. Was it the risk of discovery? Was it just that same nearness, that same intoxicant which muddied my thoughts? Did the charm have some lingering effect?