(no subject)

[fickle_obsessed]

Pairing Sue Denim/Alex Zane
Word Count 3088
Rating R
Prompt Ageplay for kink_bingo

Alex opens the door in his school uniform, tie loose around his neck, clean shaven and hair a mess as usual. It’s a nice touch, he’s put a lot of effort into this obviously, which bodes pretty well. It takes Suzy just a moment to compose herself, pull herself together and stop herself from staring. She clears her throat, straightens her knee length pencil skirt and offers a faintly awkward smile. “Ready for your guitar lesson?” she asks, hoping more than anything that she’s a good enough actress to pull this off because if she‘s quite honest she‘d happily just fuck him like this without any kind of scenario, although she has to admit she‘s interested in finding out how this will pan out, knowing he wasn‘t exactly the coolest teenager.

“Oh yeah right. Shit!” he replies, easily in character, but then he‘s never exactly been a grown-up generally. He‘s making up for the time he lost when he was a geeky kid with glasses and a briefcase, if he gets the chance to pretend he‘s a cool teenager he‘s going to take it. “Um…come in. I’d totally lost track of the time, my mum’s out but she probably left the money. So yeah…come in.” He steps away from the door so she can enter and attempts to straighten his tie for reasons he isn’t entirely sure of.

“Upstairs again, is it?” she asks, as he closes the door. “I hope you’ve been practising .”

He looks a little worried at the question, which earns him a disapproving glance as she waits for him to lead the way.

“Alexander,” she says sceptically as she follows him up the stairs towards what was previously his spare room but has now been transformed into something very passable as a teenage boy’s bedroom, complete with single bed and posters on the wall.

“I have!” he protests, turning to look at her over his shoulder with a little pout.

“Well we’ll see, won’t we?”

“I’ve spent ages perfecting my fingering,” he adds, still watching her, every inch the cocky schoolboy, awaiting her reaction at his choice of words.

She almost stumbles up the last stair at his comment, but manages to catch herself, giving him another disapproving look. “Am I going to have to have a word with your mother again?” she asks. “This behaviour’s highly inappropriate. I’m your teacher.”

He shrugs it off easily as he enters the room, grabbing his guitar and sitting on the edge of his bed as she pulls up a chair. “A guitar teacher isn’t like a proper teacher,” he tells her with a grin. “I don’t even have to call you Miss Powell.”

“You should learn about respect, about what‘s appropriate and what isn‘t and your suggestive comments are not appropriate,” she informs him. “Whether I’m Miss Powell or Suzanne.”

He actually manages to look abashed at her telling off, ducking his head and focusing on tightening the strings at the head of the guitar, carefully avoiding her eye. “I’m sorry,” he mutters.

“Just…play something will you? Anything you want. Just so I can see how you’ve come along since our last session.”

He attempts a very half hearted version of Fake Plastic Trees, missed cords and wrong cords all over the place, wincing at every little mistake and awaiting her appraisal.

“You haven’t been practicing, have you?” she asks, moving to sit beside him. “As for the fingering…just watch me okay?” Slowly she plays the cords, glancing side long at him to make sure he’s paying attention to the positioning of her fingers. “Now you try it.”

“My fingers won’t do it!” he protests, pausing for a few moments and looking across at her, the cockiness gone.

“Like this,” she says, placing each finger in position slowly. “Look let me-” she twists a little so she’s behind him, moving one hand on top of his own to position his fingers herself. He smells of Lynx, cheap and overpowering and cloying and it takes her back to her own teenage years, snogging boys behind bike sheds, sneaking out late at night for parties, slapping away overeager hands.

Closing his eyes he leans back against her, giving her complete control of his hands.

“That’s better,” she says slowly, blinking back the fog in her mind, He’s so close and so pretty and… “You can sit up now, Alexander,” she tells him, sounding less annoyed than she’d hoped.

“Yeah, yeah, course,” he says quickly, but moving slowly, turning again to face her, yet again focusing on his guitar, making a point of positioning his fingers for each cord before quite suddenly looking up at her. “Have you got a boyfriend, Suzanne?” he asks.

“Can we get back to the lesson?”

“Have you though?” he presses, looking at her with eyes that seem to be boring into her soul.

She doesn’t speak for a moment, then slowly she reaches for the end of his tie. “I really can’t have this conversation with you, Alexander,” she says quietly.

“Because it’s inappropriate?” he asks, glancing at the fingers playing with his tie. “You’re not a real teacher, you know?”

“As far as you’re concerned…”

“I’m nearly seventeen,” he says in earnest, eyes wide and innocent and her hand tightens on that tie automatically, pulling him forward just a little without really wanting to, or perhaps more precisely meaning to.

She swallows hard, the words echoing through her mind. ‘Nearly seventeen.’ Fuck. And it’s believable too, with him like this, all clean shaven, innocent and dishevelled but eager at the same time and the idea of taking advantage of him, well it really shouldn’t appeal as much as it does.

“And I’m a lot older than that. Your parents-”

“Are out,” he butts in, leaning in just a little, daring her, tempting her and Christ even if this was real she isn’t convinced she’d be able to resist that look in his dark brown eyes or those lips.

“You can’t tell them,” she says. “I’d get in so much trouble and I really need this job and…this is so, so wrong.”

“But wrong in a good way, right?” he asks, beaming at her. “I’m legal. It’s not that bad.”

She pauses for a moment gaze flicking between eyes and lips as she licks her own.

“I won’t tell,” he promises. “It’ll be our little secret.”

She pulls him closer still, some control over her actions now, getting far too lost in the idea, in just how good he looks.

“Be gentle with me?” he whispers, so close she can feel the warmth of his breath.

He sounds so innocent, so uncertain that she actually has to check that it’s still him. Moving her free hand to cup his face she brushes her thumb slowly over his smooth cheek. “If you’re not sure about this-” she starts.

“No, no! I’m sure, just a bit…inexperienced. Might need you to show me what to do,” he admits, licking his lips slowly, so into this whole thing that he’s actually starting to believe it himself. That he’s young and innocent and unsure, handing himself over to this beautiful older woman. “Turn me into a man.”

She swallows hard staying completely still, then pulls him forward, pressing her lips against his gently, slowly, tentatively parting them with her tongue as she lets go of his tie and rests her hand on the back of his neck as they kiss as if this is the first time; unsure and careful, learning and searching and all too quickly he pulls back a sheepish little smile on his face.

“Is it okay if I-?” he reaches out, hand hovering about an inch away from her breast.

Part of her wants to tell him he doesn’t have to ask, but she supposes in this context he does, for now at least and really it’s sort of sweet. The change from how he normally is is really quite something and she has always been into the innocent type, getting off on the idea of introducing someone to something dark and twisted. Instead then she nods, reaching to place her hand over his like she did when she was teaching him, guiding it forward to touch her, watching his reaction carefully.

He doesn’t move for a moment, as if he’s afraid she’ll change her mind if he tries anything. He stays there frozen to the spot, both of them watching each other, half afraid, half excited then gently he squeezes the swell of her small breast, thumb brushing over her nipple noting the fact she isn’t wearing a bra, but then she never does.

“Good,” she breaths. “That’s…good.”

He could play the idiot of course, the completely clueless virgin boy, but her words are enough encouragement and he pulls his hand back, slipping it beneath her top, over her flat stomach to her bare breast, teasing her nipple harder, never taking her eyes off her, waiting to be told off, or for her to suddenly change her mind.

Reaching forward without a word she undoes the buttons of his crisp white shirt with shaking fingers. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” she says softly, eyes flitting between his completely hair free chest, biting her lip to stop herself from smiling. She almost makes a comment about how he’s shaved but manages to stop herself because it would spoil the moment.

“I’ve fancied you for ages,” he tells her, eyes closing slowly, to focus more on the sensations, on her nervous fingers brushing against his skin. “I’ve had dreams like this. I’m going to wake up, aren’t I?”

“Shhh,” she says, leaning in to kiss him on the lips as she pushes his shirt away from his shoulders, leaving his tie in place.

“Sorry,” he mutters, blushing just a little, something he’s rather proud of being able to do. “But it’s true.”

She doesn’t speak again, instead she reaches down and pulls off her top in the hope of distracting him from speaking.

“God,” he hisses, staring at her, mouth open just a little. “Better that I ever imagined.”

She blushes at that, a real blush, because he isn’t like this normally. Oh he has his moments but this adoration, the look on his face, is something entirely different.

“Will you lie down for me?” he asks hopefully.

“I don’t think-”

“Please,” he practically begs, bottom lip quivering. “I won’t tell anyone, not a soul. I don‘t want to get you in trouble, I really don‘t.”

“Our little secret,” she says, kicking off her shoes and laying back on his single bed, looking up at him as he just watches her. Eyes drifting slowly over her body as if he’s trying to remember every inch of her for future reference.

After a few moments he kneels at the foot of the bed and reaches down for the fastening of his trousers, focusing on what he’s doing, on making it believable. Not too skilled, nervous, anxious, excited.

She closes her eyes unable to watch him. He’s a little too good at this. She felt less dirty when he was being a cocky teenager, himself in a school uniform, but now it feels more real. How she imagined him as an actual teenager from everything he’s said, only somehow that manages to make her want him more. Yes she feels dirty, guilty almost, but he really is the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen, especially like this, with all of his arrogance striped away. When she feels the bed beneath her move she opens them again to find him naked except for a pair of boxer shorts, tented over his erection as he shifts awkwardly to lay beside her, not nearly enough room for the two of them.

“Sorry,” he says, trying not to crush her, or lay on her. “This isn’t exactly ideal, is it? Bit of a squeeze.”

She twists and shuffles back so she’s pressed against the wall, facing him. “None of this is exactly ideal,” she points out.

“You like me though, don’t you?” he asks, staring back at her. “I mean you fancy me too, right?”

“Do you really have to ask?” she says, frowning just a little, does he really want his ego stroking? Even now?

“I just want to know that you feel the same about me. That you want me and that-that you want to do this.”

She sighs heavily and reaches for his hand, fingers threading with his own. “I want you,” she admits. “I really shouldn’t but…I want you.”

He grins at that, closing the space between them, squeezing her hand and kissing her a little more confidently than before, free hand slowly and gently exploring her naked flesh, hands stopping at the waistband of her skirt. “Can I?”

Awkwardly she reaches behind herself, pressing herself closer to him to be able to unzip her skirt, wriggling with her hands over his to help him remove it by way of an answer.

“Tell me what to do,” he whispers, hand resting on her bare leg. “I want to make you feel good. I‘ll do anything you want.”

It’s too good an offer to refuse, isn’t it? Anything, though she knows she has to be careful, not too demanding, not too expectant. Because this is his first time and she should really go easy on him. “I want your mouth on me,” she says quietly, eyes closed.

“Where?” he breathes, lips finding their way to her neck. “Tell me where you want me, Suzanne.”

She shuffles a little further up his bed, gently placing her hand on the back of his head, guiding him towards her chest despite the fact she really wants him a little further down than that, but it’s probably a good idea to go slow with him, for the sake of authenticity.

He catches on quickly, tongue darting out to lap against her nipple, sucking it into his mouth, looking up at her for assurance that he’s doing it right. That he’s pleasuring her so she’ll let him do it again, so she’ll want to do it again.

“That’s it,” she whispers, stroking the back of his head. “Good boy.”

He smiles against her flesh at the praise, pulling back just a little to kiss her breasts, hand caressing her back, stopping at the curve of her arse, covered with plain white cotton knickers, nothing fancy, which fits the role perfectly, nothing expensive, nothing too sexy or seductive.

“Go on,” she urges, hips pushing forward.

Slowly his fingers dip beneath the fabric, groping at her excitedly, getting lost in her curves and scent, rapidly losing control as he pulls them down with more than a little help from her. He’s so close now it’s the only thing he can think about.

Wrapping her leg around his hip she twists them so that he’s on top, her hands finding their way to his own underwear, only instead of pausing she pushes them down, slowly but purposefully, before finally removing the tie from around his neck.

Replacing his mouth with one hand he pushes himself up so they’re face to face, squeezing and groping with no real skill as he kisses her, rubbing himself against her needily.

“Careful,” she says, the word coming out sterner than planned. “Don’t want you having an accident.”

“Sorry, I just…got a bit carried away,”

“Have you got anything?”

“Anything?” he repeats, looking highly confused.

“Condoms, Alexander,” she clarifies.

He gives her a look then, awkward and sheepish, reaching for the drawer in this bedside table and pulling out a still sealed packet. “I never thought I’d actually get to use them,” he admits, fumbling to remove the plastic wrapper with little luck before she takes it from him and removes it with annoying ease, pulling one out and tearing it open.

A few moments later and he’s pushing into her, gripping her shoulders and letting out a shuddering moan, like this is his first time. “So tight,” he hisses into her ear, as he thrusts into her hard and fast, no tricks, no skill, just raw need and desire despite it taking a lot of effort on his part not to show off a little bit. “So hot.” He kisses her sloppily, not quite catching her whole mouth.

It isn’t as good as usual, he’s grabby and selfish, but then it’s not supposed to be, because he’s supposed to be a 16 year old virgin, but she encourages him, making little noises and thrusting up against him, legs tangling with his own as his tongue slips and slides against hers before he breaks the kiss and pants close to her ear, moaning loudly. “Oh god,” he groans. “I’m gonna…fuck…”

He comes with a grunt, fingers digging hard into her flesh before rolling off her breathlessly.

It’s startlingly quick and she isn’t breathless. She’s never not been breathless after them having sex, but he was so perfectly in character there’s nothing she can say.

“So…” he says slowly, turning to face her. “That was crap for you, right?”

“I um…” she looks at him and tries to work out an answer.

“Next time I could be a sexually competent teenager if you like?” he offers with a grin. “Or you can just fuck me while I’m still wearing my school uniform?” he adds, reaching down for his tie on the floor and draping it around his neck before tying it. “Although strictly speaking it’s your turn next. I will be the over strict yet pervy headmaster with a thing for young girls and you will be a slutty head girl. Think Gemma Atherton in Saint Trinians. Or any school girl in every porn movie ever.”

“Will there be a cane?” she asks, with a dirty little smile.

“There will be anything you want, love,” he assures her. “But there will definitely be a desk for me to do you over.”

She doesn’t speak for a moment, too caught up in the mental images he‘s providing. “It’s shocking how quickly you can go with sweet and innocent to well…you,” she says with a laugh.

“I’ll let you corrupt me again anytime you like,” he says quietly, tangling himself up in her limbs.

“Sexually competent but completely unkinky?” she asks.

“That can be my next character,” he confirms. “But can we have this conversation in my actual bed now? Only sleeping in a single bed reminds me far too much of when I was a student, only I was usually alone then.”