Archive of Our Own ^beta

(1) Enter the school (0:01)

You’re still holding Robin’s hand when you walk into school that morning. The main hall is full of other students and faculty preparing for the school day proper. Rain has been off and on this week and wet umbrellas have left the halls slick and squeaky. Robin shook hers off before you both entered the hall, but water trails behind her as she heads off to her locker.

You’re hit with a wave of affection, remembering your childhood with Robin. You are amazed at how little she has changed from back then. How has she managed to keep the claws of this city out of her innocence?

A hand is placed on your shoulder and then you are shoved roughly from behind. You stumble but catch yourself before you fall or bump into another student. The burst of laughter from behind you alerts you that Whitney and his little followers are responsible and you turn with a glare. Whitney is grinning at you, an unlit cigarette between his lips.

Ugh, you wish he wasn’t so hot, or at the very least that you weren’t attracted to him.

He jerks his head towards the bathroom antechamber and turns without watching to see if you follow. His friends wait and leer at you but you don’t bother paying them much attention and push past them to follow Whitney.

He heads into the boys room and you cringe a little. It always smells like piss in there and its hard not to feel like that clings to you for the rest of the day. Still, a deal is a deal and if you want those orphans having an easy school day you best keep Whitney distracted appropriately. At least he’s predictable.

(1) Boys' toilets

He doesn’t bother going into a stall and instead leans against the tile counter of sinks. Instead of preparing himself he lights his cigarette and gestures towards his crotch.

You cringe again, looking down at the wet sticky floor of the bathroom. It isn’t rain that’s the problem here and you feel a wave unease. You don’t want that shit on your knees. You turn to look at the audience that is filing in to enjoy the show. One of the thin boys wears a baggy blue windbreaker and you note the sleeves are still a little wet from the rain outside. You look at him until he notices and hold out your hand.

“Give me your coat,” you say. He stares at you in confusion and then looks at Whitney. Poor little boy can’t make up his own mind.

“Wha-? It’s not cold in here…” he says slowly, looking back at you in confusion.

You roll your eyes and Whitney laughs. You don’t wait for him any longer and instead step forward and start pulling it off his shoulders. The boy tries to stop you, at least a little, he mostly seems baffled and looks to his leader again.

Whitney laughs again. “Let her have it, we don’t have all day.” When you glance back at him you see the amusement on his face, but he hides it when he notices you looking. He inhales from his cigarette and blows a cloud of smoke up to the ceiling. The smell helps drown out the old piss and it does put you in a better mood. You wonder what brand Whitney smokes, maybe you should get some.

The thin boy shrugs off his coat, still looking confused. You snap it out flat and then spread it on the ground at Whitney’s feet, the slick outside against the pissy floor. When you kneel down you can feel the radiating heat off the inner jacket on your knees. The boy groans behind you, finally understanding what’s happening. “C’mon…” he mutters.

You wait a moment, waiting to see what Whitney does, but he just continues smoking and watching you. “Lets get moving, princess,” he mutters.

Your mouth has started to water and you hate yourself for it. Still, you lean forward and reach for his school trousers. You don’t pull them off far, just pop the button and lower his fly. He doesn’t have any underwear on underneath and you just see his curly blonde pubes and his semi-erect cock. Oh, is he a little excited too?

You feel a thrill in your core and know that you’re probably growing wet already. Your body is a traitor and it remains annoying.

The smell of the cigarettes become a little overpowering when Whitney blows a blast of smoke at you. You glare up at him and he grins. You feel a jolt at the eye contact and glare, more annoyed at yourself than anything.

You look back to the task at hand and pull him out of his pants. The heft of him in your hand, the silky heat of the skin against yours, even that little whiff of his musk put you in a strange head space. Everything seems to go quiet around you and all that you can seem to focus on is Whitney in front of you, in your hand, near your mouth.

You swallow, extra moisture building up as you lean forward in anticipation. You lick a long wet stripe along the underside. A bead of precum blooms on your tongue and you fight a soft moan wanting to escape. A little worried about embarrassing yourself while getting lost in the moment, you open your mouth wide and slide him inside.

That musky smells becomes stronger the deeper you slide down his length but also you can smell his laundry detergent, and a hint of the soap he uses. Your hands come up to his thighs, still covered in his pants. His warmth radiates off him and you find yourself wanting more. You wish he were on top of you, holding you down with his weight and warmth, you wish he were inside you everywhere else too.

One of his hands goes into your hair and he starts to dictate your speed. You follow his lead, relaxing your jaw, lapping your tongue against his thrusts, trying to control the retching when he seats too deeply.

Oh he loves to shove in, and he does now. You don’t push away with your hands, but you can’t help the way your body jerks at lthe intrusion. Every retch causes a wave through you, but you’re able to hold it together. He pulls out after a particularly nasty trust and you gasp, cough, and sputter, trying to swallow down anything threatening to come up.

His hand slides under your chin and he turns your face up. His thumb rubs into the drool running down your chin and spreads it around across your cheek. You loll your tongue out while you gaze at him, hoping he’ll get back inside your mouth and finish this up, your jaw is starting to hurt a little. He grins and shoves two of his fingers in your mouth.

He rubs against your tongue for just a moment but then he shoves back down the back of your throat. You gag around his fingers and try to pull away. He grabs his cigarette in his mouth and moves his other hand behind your head. “Uh uh, baby, you stay right here for me.” He forces you back down on his fingers and then starts thrusting them back in your mouth and down you throat.

Tears spring in your eyes at the effort to keep yourself from retching all over his fingers. He grins larger and larger the longer you last. You worry you’ll lose any control you have here when he finally stops and pulls his hands back. You are panting loudly at his feet again, more drool falling below you and onto the inside of the coat you kneel in.

In your periphery you see him reach down and grab his cock, gripping it roughly and thrusting into his hand. You look up towards him again, and stick your tongue out.

It doesn’t take him long to cum. The first stripe lands on your cheek, the next across your tongue and lips. Then he thrusts his cock back in your mouth and you feel the way it spurts on the roof of your mouth and your throat. That sharp salty taste fills your mouth and it does take more effort not to moan a little.

He grabs your head with both hands and pulls you against him as he finishes. You keep him out of your throat but still your mouth remains full. He keeps you there for a few moments, long enough you glance up at him. You can’t read the expression on his face, but he hides it by blowing a cloud of smoke in your face.

The world around you comes back into focus. You hear the cheering of the audience, the tail end of their commentary, the sounds of the school outside the bathroom, the old rattly fan in the ceiling. The warmth of the coat you are kneeling on is gone, and the smell of piss is back.

You pull away, stand and go to a sink next to Whitney and splash water onto your face, scrubbing off leftover cum. Whitney turns and grabs your hair, tugging your face towards his. You feel a thrill – is he going to kiss you?

He doesn’t, he hold you there and sneers. “Say thank you, slut.”

You roll your eyes.

“Thank you.”