Arthur plucked the book from my hand and slid it onto the coffee table.

“Van, pay attention to me,” he said, mouth in a tempting pout.

“Rude, Arthur,” I said, grabbing the book and opening it again.

Arthur’s pout deepened, and he sighed, flopping onto the couch beside me. “Fine.”

He sulked on the couch for a few minutes, then his hand crept to my thigh, sliding between my legs as it moved higher. The words on the page became more difficult to focus on. I clapped a stilling hand on his and looked at him sternly.

“Rude.”

He huffed again, then inspiration lit his eyes. He toed off his shoes casually, dropping his socks on the floor. Then he wandered into my bedroom and I turned again to my reading. Just when I’d sunk back into the book, Arthur walked out of the bedroom, naked except for a pair of very tight, very sheer black underwear. His backside was pert and perfect, his cock straining the fabric of the underwear. When I looked up, he licked his lips.

I raised an eyebrow at him, then deliberately went back to reading. Arthur slumped, clearly disappointed that his ruse to distract me hadn’t worked. Then he dropped into the armchair, spread his legs wide, and hooked one knee over the arm, sheer black underwear making his genitals a perfect package between his spread legs. And right in front of me.

“How’s your book, professor?” Arthur murmured, voice like honey. He dropped a graceful hand into his lap and cupped his penis.

“Very absorbing.”

His hand began to move, stroking himself gently. I watched surreptitiously over the top of my book as he hardened beneath his own touch. As his erection swelled, the underwear became tighter and tighter, and his legs fell farther apart. Arthur’s head dropped back onto the cushion, lips parting as his breath came faster.

“Arthur.”

“Mhmm.”

“Are you trying to distract me?”

“No. Just taking things into my own hands, since you’d rather be reading.”

I let him continue, his cock thick and ruddy inside his underwear, arousal flushing his cheeks.

“That’s enough, Arthur. Stop.”

Arthur’s breath caught. “Wh-what?”

“You heard me. Remove your hand.”

Arthur looked at me, beautiful blue eyes hazy with lust. He removed his hand. I went back to my book.

“Vaaannn,” Arthur whined after a minute.

“You don’t have much restraint, do you, Arthur?”

Arthur groaned. “Oh, god, restraint, yes, please.”

His head was thrown back, hair mussed, firmly muscled chest rising and falling with quick breaths.

“Touch yourself,” I said. “Lightly. Slowly. Until I tell you to stop.”

“Oh, fuck,” Arthur murmured.

He slid his hand back to his erection, and when he made contact, he whimpered. He began to stroke himself. Light, teasing strokes that made him shiver, and made his breath ragged.

“Stop,” I commanded, after a minute. Arthur’s groan was desperate.

“Please, Van. Please?”

“Please what, Arthur?”

“Please…uh, touch me, or let me come, or…anything.”

“Mmm. I like when you say please, Arthur. It’s much more polite than grabbing my book out of my hand and demanding things.”

“’M sorry,” he whimpered.

“Put your other knee up over the arm of the chair.”

He slowly lifted his other leg. With both knees over the chair arms, he was spread open, cock and balls and asshole on display.

“I can see everything, Arthur.”

He moaned softly, eyelids fluttering, cheeks staining a deeper pink. “Wh-what do you want me to do?”

“Put your hands on the arms of the chair.”

He did it, gripping tightly.

I went back to my book. I could see him, out of the corner of my eye, chest flushed, cheeks flushed, eyes burning hot, mouth open on desperate breaths. His arousal was hard and straining against the scrap of fabric that contained it.

After a few minutes, Arthur began fidgeting.

I put my book down on my lap, the weight of it just enough to make me aware of my own erection.

“Stroke the insides of your thighs,” I said. “Softly.”

Arthur groaned at his own touch, cock jumping. He ran his fingertips up the soft skin on the insides of his thighs, while his thigh muscles bunched in the effort to keep still.

“Now run your fingertips over your hole. Very, very lightly. Show me.”

His breathing was ragged as his right hand moved.

“No.” I stopped him. “Leave the underwear on. You clearly put them on because you thought they were sexy, did you not?”

Arthur opened his mouth but didn’t say anything.

“Well? Did you think they were sexy?”

“I–I hoped you would,” he said.

“I see. What did you hope I’d find sexy about them?”

“I…I don’t…I thought maybe…” Arthur’s face was bright red, and I looked at the scrap of sheer black fabric.

“The contrast, perhaps? The play of something restraining your genitals, while also revealing them?” Arthur nodded uncertainly. “That is very like you,” I told him. “Restraint and provocation at the same time. Now, do as I say and stroke your asshole through that ridiculous underwear.”

Arthur’s eyes drifted shut as he touched himself, and his hips thrust forward.

“Open your eyes,” I said softly. “Touch your cock. Rub it.”

He did as I said, breath coming faster and faster. Desperate moans began to escape his throat and he stroked himself harder.

“Stop,” I commanded as his jaw tightened.

“Oh god, oh fuck, fuck!” He grabbed the arms of the chair, hips moving helplessly in the air. “Oh, god, Van, please.”

“You wanted my attention, Arthur. Now you have it. Be careful what you wish for.”

My own cock was impossibly hard, my chest flushed. My desire in that moment was torn between unzipping myself and pressing my aching flesh between Arthur’s lush lips, and waiting until he fell apart, allowing delay to heighten my gratification.

I reached underneath the book that was lying in my lap and undid my fly, stroking myself. Arthur’s eyes were glued to my crotch.

“Van,” he murmured worshipfully. “Can I—I can…”

I removed the book, giving him an unobstructed view, and he groaned as I stroked my thick erection. His hands still clutched the arms of the chair, breathing shallow, eyes blue fire. I stood, stepped out of my pants, and approached Arthur.

“Open your mouth for me,” I said. His lush mouth opened, and I slid my erection between his lips. We both groaned as he took me in, and I could feel the tension in his body as he made an effort not to move.

His slick, hot mouth was heaven, and I felt my balls draw tight as I used him. I eased back for a moment and reached down, cupping Arthur’s cock. He gasped around my dick, and shuddered all over as he swelled in my hand. I rubbed him firmly for a few seconds, then went back to fucking his mouth, enjoying his shiver.

“Arthur,” I murmured. “I’m going to come down your throat and you’re going to stay very still, aren’t you?”

He nodded, looking up at me with desperate eyes.

I pressed my hips forward, the perfect velvet pressure of his mouth and his throat pulling my orgasm from me in deep waves of pleasure that I spilled inside him. He groaned and tightened his mouth to draw out my pleasure. His hot hands grabbed my ass, holding me inside his mouth until he’d drained me dry.

I traced his swollen lips with my thumb. He was looking up at me, dazed and desperate.

“I didn’t say you could touch me,” I said softly, removing his hands and pressing them to the chair.

“Sorry,” he murmured, and swallowed hard. “You were too hot to resist.” His smirk was defiant and sweet.

I moved away and sat back on the couch, watching as his face fell.

“Van?”

I said nothing.

“I’m sorry, really. I didn’t mean to. Van, come on.”

His lips trembled as I looked at him, but he didn’t move a muscle.

“Good boy,” I said, after a minute went by, and I watched peace cross his face. Then he winked at me and I couldn’t help but smile. He was so beautiful, spread out before me, half restrained, half provocative, just like that damned underwear.

“Take it off,” I told him.

He wriggled out of the garment, sighing with relief when his erection sprang free, and spread his legs in the chair.

“Now I can really see everything. Stroke your cock, Arthur. Stroke it the way I would.”

He gasped. Then he reached down and palmed his erection. On the first stroke his head fell backward and he groaned. His hand moved slowly and firmly, twisting to rub over his sensitive tip. “Oh god, Van, I’m gonna—”

“Stop.”

“Fuck!” He pulled his hand away and whimpered. “Fuck, please?!”

“Open your eyes.”

His eyes opened, eyelashes spiky with moisture.

“What is it to interrupt someone when they’re reading, Arthur?”

“Huh?”

“What is it,” I said slowly, leaning toward him. I could smell his heady sweat and the tang of his precome. And underneath that, just Arthur. “To interrupt someone while they’re reading?”

“Rude. It’s rude. I’m sorry Van. I won’t do it again.”

“Really?”

He nodded desperately. Then he huffed out a laugh. “Well. I’ll try not to. Or, I’ll be less rude about it.”

I smiled again. “I appreciate your honesty.”

“I’ll always be honest with you,” he said. And that had the ring of honesty.

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

His nod was solemn, even with his legs spread wide and precome streaking his ruddy erection.

“Thank you. You may touch yourself. Slowly. And look at me.”

Arthur bit his lip and his hand trembled as he reached for his cock. His hand moved wetly over his flesh and his ass and thighs tightened in small upward thrusts. He began saying, “Oh, oh” with each stroke. “Van, I—oh, god, please. Can I—please?”

“Can you what?”

“Can I come, please, I have to.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else—I—or else I…please, Van,” he nearly sobbed, eyes bright, body shaking.

“Stop,” I said firmly.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck!” he cried, fisting his hands and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Arthur.”

He shook his head, jaw clenched.

I stood and went over to him, stroking that clenched jaw, and the beautiful cut of his cheekbone. I ran a finger over his full lower lip.

“Van,” he breathed, eyes still closed, and he jutted out his chin, begging for a kiss. When I finally pressed my lips to his, he cried out in my mouth, hands burrowing into my hair. Then he froze, and lowered his hands to the chair. I pressed another kiss to his lips, then leaned back, my own hands on the arms of the chair.

“Touch yourself,” I murmured, face still close to his. “Keep your eyes on me.”

His eyes fluttered open. I could see in his face the moment his hand made contact with his swollen erection, though I couldn’t see it. A fine tremble ran through him and his lips parted. He began to breathe heavily as he stroked himself, stomach muscles clenching, neck cording. Then, to my surprise, his left hand grabbed mine. He looked scared, for a moment, that I might not allow it, but I twined our fingers together.

“Oh, fuck, Van, I’m so close. Please, can I come?”

“Do you think it will feel good, darling?”

“Yes, fuck,” he said immediately.

“So much better, now that you’ve shown some restraint, hmm?”

He rolled his eyes and I smiled.

“Yeah, ok, probably. Van, fuck, come on, please?”

His words turned to whimpers, and a glance downward told me how close he was.

I leaned in closer and licked at his mouth, then said in his ear, “Come for me, Arthur. Come now.”

And I watched his desperation turn to relief. His hand flew, and then he threw his head back in ecstasy, crying out his pleasure, and I felt heat pulse between us, then smelled his release.

“Oh god, fuck me, fuck!”

Then he groaned, head still thrown back, eyes closed, cheeks stained red, body still shaking from the force of his orgasm.

“Van,” he whimpered, and pulled me close. “Kiss me.”

I kissed him, tasting salt from a bitten lip, and the warmth of Arthur. Sticky hands wrapped around my neck and pulled me down on top of him in the chair, and he chuckled into my neck.

“Jesus, that was hot,” he said.

“You were being a brat.”

“Yup,” he said. “I guess you taught me my lesson, huh?”

“You know,” I told him, “studies have shown that lessons are most efficacious with repeated exposure.”

“Fuck yes to studies,” he said, and kissed me again. “Hey, what were you reading,” he asked after a few minutes.

“A very uninteresting book that was sent to me for review.”

He swatted at me halfheartedly. “You totally wanted to be interrupted.”

“It was,” I agreed, “a very welcome interruption, indeed.”