Newt thinks that he is going to bruise ever so spectacularly in the morning.
They're trying to be quiet. There is a snowstorm outside, so Mr Graves is staying over at the Scamander residence. Newt had been silent when Mr Graves attempted to refuse, but caved when his father insisted. Playing the perfect part of Newt's tutor being strong armed into staying the night.
"Pay attention." Mr Graves growls into his ear. Tilting his head to bite over the healing mark on his shoulder. The perfect indentation of his teeth. "Be a good boy for me."
Newt whimpers, spreading his legs further apart. He knows the picture he makes, has seen enough in the Pensieve Mr Graves had introduced into their lesson. There is slick running down the insides of his thighs, he is bent over his study table at the window, being undoubtedly fucked by his tutor on the table that they use for his lessons.
Mr Graves holds him down against the table surface with one hand. He likes doing that. Holding him with one big hand around the back fo his neck. Mr Graves does this without breaking his rhythm. His hips keep pistoning his cock in and out of his hole. Newt can barely breathe from the way Mr Graves' cockhead catches on the rim of his swollen hole. They'd never had this much time to themselves without the risk of getting caught.
"What do you think to me fucking you under the Christmas tree, Newt? Right next to where Mummy and Daddy left your presents with those big red bows. Huh? Or how about in your brother's bed? Anyone could tell that you hero worship him. Did you ever think about his cock, because I know you did. I could fuck you on that big formal dining table. Make you come so hard. Mark your home with memories so that every time I'm fucking someone else, you get to stroke your little cock to the memories, yeah? Would you like that?"
Newt doesn't beg, but it's a close thing. He arches his spine, presenting his arse. Mr Graves must like what he sees because he leaves light spanks on the bouncing flesh of his arse cheeks with every thrust he makes. Then, Mr Graves shifts his hips and hits that lovely spark in him that sends him spiralling into mindlessness. Newt blacks out. When his world rights itself, the night is still heavy and the snowstorm still battering the windows. Mr Graves has at some point moved him to his bed, pressing his face into his childhood bed, coming all over his back and face before leaving him there in his filth. He can feel Mr Graves' come slipping out of him. He's disgusting and he needs a shower.
All he does is turn to his side and fall back into a dreamless sleep.
Mini-Fill: Real Graves/Newt Teacher+Student
They're trying to be quiet. There is a snowstorm outside, so Mr Graves is staying over at the Scamander residence. Newt had been silent when Mr Graves attempted to refuse, but caved when his father insisted. Playing the perfect part of Newt's tutor being strong armed into staying the night.
"Pay attention." Mr Graves growls into his ear. Tilting his head to bite over the healing mark on his shoulder. The perfect indentation of his teeth. "Be a good boy for me."
Newt whimpers, spreading his legs further apart. He knows the picture he makes, has seen enough in the Pensieve Mr Graves had introduced into their lesson. There is slick running down the insides of his thighs, he is bent over his study table at the window, being undoubtedly fucked by his tutor on the table that they use for his lessons.
Mr Graves holds him down against the table surface with one hand. He likes doing that. Holding him with one big hand around the back fo his neck. Mr Graves does this without breaking his rhythm. His hips keep pistoning his cock in and out of his hole. Newt can barely breathe from the way Mr Graves' cockhead catches on the rim of his swollen hole. They'd never had this much time to themselves without the risk of getting caught.
"What do you think to me fucking you under the Christmas tree, Newt? Right next to where Mummy and Daddy left your presents with those big red bows. Huh? Or how about in your brother's bed? Anyone could tell that you hero worship him. Did you ever think about his cock, because I know you did. I could fuck you on that big formal dining table. Make you come so hard. Mark your home with memories so that every time I'm fucking someone else, you get to stroke your little cock to the memories, yeah? Would you like that?"
Newt doesn't beg, but it's a close thing. He arches his spine, presenting his arse. Mr Graves must like what he sees because he leaves light spanks on the bouncing flesh of his arse cheeks with every thrust he makes. Then, Mr Graves shifts his hips and hits that lovely spark in him that sends him spiralling into mindlessness. Newt blacks out. When his world rights itself, the night is still heavy and the snowstorm still battering the windows. Mr Graves has at some point moved him to his bed, pressing his face into his childhood bed, coming all over his back and face before leaving him there in his filth. He can feel Mr Graves' come slipping out of him. He's disgusting and he needs a shower.
All he does is turn to his side and fall back into a dreamless sleep.