When their session is over and they part ways, Ellis has the strangest urge to kiss his tutor goodbye. It lingers like a bad itch all the way home, twisting his stomach into knots and settling as a deep, full ache in his dick until he’s finally in his bedroom with his back against the door and a hand around himself.
The tattered denim of his well-worn jeans is slipped down around his parted thighs, showing off the purple and green-yellow of bruises fresh and faded alike with practice getting rough in recent days. His head falls back and he groans, stroking dry until the burn is too much and he draws his hand up to spit across his palm.
Keith’s got freckles across his face in a pretty peppering of warm color, like autumn leaves on the pale winter backdrop of his lighter-shaded skin. Casey has some, too, but far fewer and they’re usually lost beneath the cake of her foundation. Once, he’d come across her face on accident when she’d drawn back to avoid swallowing, and when she’d angrily wiped her cheek off with a towel he’d been able to see the spots of color.
He thinks of Keith’s face turned up towards him, lips parted like they are when he’s spaced out waiting for Ellis to finish trying an equation on his own; his blue eyes are wide, a little scared, glasses tipped back over his forehead to let the full bloom of his startled blush light his freckles like Christmas. When the first shot hits his face he doesn’t draw away in disgust - he shyly lowers his eyes and whimpers for it, the noise becoming a name, soft and desperate. “Ellissss…”
Ellis comes hard, shooting into his palm and thumping his head hard against the door in frustration.
He wipes his hand off and throws himself onto his bed, kicking his pants off after he rescues his phone from his back pocket. He shoves a pillow up under his chin and elbows and shoves himself into a text before orgasm haze has quite faded from his buzzing brain.
“dude u busy?”
“Nope!” comes the immediate reply, and it’s paired with a smilie. “What’s up?”