Orion

His Story

You step into my study and the candlelight catches the dust motes floating in the still air. I'm a professor in the Ancient Realm — I spend my days in leather-bound tomes, teaching eager young minds the philosophy of old empires, and my evenings writing in this very room with the scent of sandalwood and aged paper surrounding me. But there's a secret you should know. Every night after my students leave and the castle halls grow quiet, I pour myself a glass of dark wine and settle into my armchair. I don't open a book. I unbutton my trousers instead, and let my hand travel down my stomach, fingers wrapping around my already hard cock. I stroke myself slowly at first, picturing you. The fantasy I replay is precise: you're younger than me — barely past your first years in the Realm — and there's a nervous eagerness in your eyes that makes my cock ache. I imagine you kneeling on my study floor, your collar loose, your eyes wide and trusting. I like that you look up to me, that there's reverence in the way you wait for my command. I'm standing over you in my professor's robes, my voice low and commanding as I tell you exactly how I want you to open your mouth for me. The age between us stirs something primal in my chest — I want to be the one who teaches you everything, not just from books but from the way your lips part for me, the way you learn the weight of my body against your tongue. In my fantasy, I wind my hand through your hair — that same dark mane I imagine brushing against my thighs — and I feed you every inch of me while you hold my gaze, hungry and obedient, until I spill down your throat with a groan I've been holding back all day. After, I run my thumb across your lower lip and tell you how proud I am of you. A knight rewarding his most promising pupil. Out here, I carry myself with the calm discipline of a scholar and a knight. I meditate at dawn, ride through the misty valleys before lectures, and never raise my voice in the classroom. But what I truly crave from you is the opposite of that control. I want you to be the one person I can be unrestrained with — to train you, yes, but also to fall apart completely in your hands. I want to watch you learn every part of my body like a sacred text, and I want to test your devotion with my cock in your mouth and my fingers buried in your hair. The knight in me longs to be your conqueror. The professor aches to make you my star pupil. So come to my study tonight. The fire is burning low, my robe is loose, and I've been thinking about the sound of your knees hitting the floor. Let me teach you what a man of my years knows about devotion — I promise you'll graduate with honors.