#pnn

Redirect. Placate. Validate.

Niney had been turning the words over in his head since he first noticed the tenseness in Mr. Prichard's spine. They had been drilled into his head since his training and he had been operating on their principle for the past six months but it still felt strange, stepping in during moments like this. His instincts screamed at him to get smaller, meeker. The idea of speaking out of turn still made his stomach twist into knots.

“Your order will be here next week,” the salesclerk kept her voice impressively steady, a tense smile frozen across her face. “Until then, there isn’t anything I can do.”

Mr. Pichard’s nostrils flare and he leans forward, lips quivering with each word said through gritted teeth. “Of course there isn’t anything you can do, you useless–”

Redirect.

“Sir!” It came out breathless, like a chew toy with a broken squeaker. Niney found himself wincing at his own words, cringing inwards at the sound of his voice. “Do you remember our breathing exerci–”

The backhand stung, like always. Metal rings bit into Niney’s cheek and he let his head snap to the side, following the force of Mr. Pichard’s hand.

“Do not–” Mr. Pichard jabbed a finger into Niney’s chest– “interrupt me. Understand?”

Niney’s voice caught in his throat, his jaw opening and closing uselessly. Your master’s orders come second only to the will of the state. The words rang between Niney’s ears, screeching like an endless microphone feedback loop. The will of the state was for Niney to use nearly any means to soothe Mr. Pichard’s temper, to keep his outbursts to a minimum, ideally away from the general public. But Niney found himself struggling to follow his court-ordered purpose while faced with Mr. Pichard’s burning glare and shoulders heaving with unacted violence.

The salesclerk’s open jaw clacked shut, drawing Mr. Prichard’s attention. He whirled to face her, fists clenched, and Niney’s heart leapt into his throat.

His hands were shaking more than usual. Neuropathy, the WRU medic had called it. A prolonged punishment that had turned into a permanent injury, shooting aches and pains that made it difficult for him to clean or cook or do anything that a good house pet was supposed to do. He was lucky, really, that he’d been bumped up to the emotional support division instead of any of the alternatives he didn’t want to think about.

Placate.

He wrapped his shaky hands around Mr. Pichard’s wrists, taking on the brunt of the attention. Mr. Pichard’s lip curled, pulling back to reveal the edges of his teeth, but he didn’t yank his arm away. A small victory.

Niney worked fast, clumsily unfurling Mr. Pichard’s fingers and pressing them against his own chest. Inhale, then exhale. Using the rhythm of his chest to guide Mr. Pichard through slow, careful breaths.

Mr. Pichard shut his eyes and his shoulders dropped, posture curving into something that Niney could almost call relaxed. He could feel a bruise starting to bloom across his cheek and he wished the salesclerk would stop staring. Mr. Prichard didn’t always like it when people stared.

Validate.

“It’s been a stressful month.” Niney finally found his voice. He hoped the low rumble of the words being spoken straight from his chest would be grounding, not irritating. “This is a frustrating situation.”

Mr. Pichard nodded. His brow knitted together, most likely flooded with memories of meetings and first drafts and ungrateful models. Niney hoped that Mr. Prichard’s pinched expression wouldn’t cause wrinkles.

“We can come back next week,” Niney continued.

Mr. Prichard’s mouth twitched. “It'll throw off the whole schedule.”

“I’ve seen you make it through worse.” Niney patted the back of Mr. Prichard’s hand, stifling a wince at the sudden flare-up that shot through his wrist. “You can do this.”

“I can do this,” Mr. Prichard repeated, exhaling deeply.

“We should go home.” Niney took a step towards the door, careful not to pull too hard. He didn’t want it to seem like he was issuing a command.

Luckily, Mr. Prichard just nodded, taking long, quick steps to put himself in the lead. Niney was happy to follow, ignoring the salesclerk’s eyes burning holes into the back of his collar.

When you had agreed to help your daughter -Dahlia’s- ninth grade history class with their Smithsonian trips, you had been expecting the constant screaming of kids and constantly telling them to stay close and to not touch anything. You even came prepared with your little travel first-aid kit (you could never be too prepared when it comes to kids.) What you didn’t take into account was their teacher. You thought you knew what you were agreeing to, but as the bus made its way to D.C. the two of you had a chance to get to know each other. What you didn’t plan was the thing the two of you were currently doing.

Slapping one hand over your mouth, attempts to muffle the unholy hymns of pleasure that want to leave through your kiss plumped lips. Looking down to Mr. Ben -or Ben as he kept insisting you call him- your eyes instantly finding his, the welcoming warm chocolate eyes replaced with pupils blown wide with want and need. 

Gripping Ben’s hair tighter, you threw your head back as your hips took on a mind of their own. As you stood there, in some side hallway that extended past an ‘Employee Only’ sign, you could feel the coil in the pit of your stomach growing tighter and tighter. Your once rhythmic  grinding soon becomes feverish, the silence you had tried so hard to preserve now filled with the wet sounds of Ben’s handwork and the soft pants as you need the edge.

“F-Fuck…Ben. I-I’m gonna…ahhh…I’m gonna cum. Please don’t stop.” Your voice came out as a pleading whine, and that seemed to spur him on. Without warning you felt the knot in your stomach snap, your legs -or rather leg- held Ben closer to you, as you came, a silent scream had your face in this contorted look of pleasure and surprise. Your grinding slowed as your high raked through your body, till you were nothing more than a shaky mess.

Feeling Ben pull away, you gasp slightly, the cool air of the museum hitting your sensitive cock. Swallowing dryly, you watch as Ben gives your cock one final long slow lick, the action earning him a few breathless whimpers. Standing up right you study him, the way his messy hair laid on top of his head, the way his facial hair comes in patchy and is colored almost as if with salt and pepper, but one of the many things you liked about Ben was his aquiline nose, and the way it was constantly bumping your cock while he was paying attention to your entrance.

With your brain still foggy from the orgasm, you turn to face the wall, hands bracing yourself for what was about to happen. Looking over your shoulder, you put on your best puppy face, “Mr. Ben sir,” You bite your lip, pressing your ass to the noticeable tent in his khakis. This time you were the one rewarded with beautiful sounds. Though they weren’t whimpers. They were the next best thing, groans and growl like sounds. “I need help with something. Do you think you can help me?” As the question fell from your lips you slowly grinded against him. 

Feeling Ben grab your hips harshly caused a gasp to escape your lips, before pressing himself to you harder. Feeling him let go of you with one hand, you go to look to see what he has planned. The sound of a zipper giving it away. It didn’t take long before you felt the head of Ben’s cock rubbing your own before sliding his length to your needy hole.

“I think I can actually help you with that. The real question is,” Feeling his clothed chest press into your back, his hushed tone causing goosebumps to erupt over your skin, “Do you think you can stay quiet? I’d hate for us to get found.” Feeling heat spreads across your face and your brain begins to swim, all you can do is nod. 

“Tsk tsk tsk, you were using your words earlier. What happened to that pretty voice of yours now?” Trying to process the question just presented to you, you push yourself off the wall slightly. Looking over your shoulder, a quizzical look on your face, you saw Ben’s. A smirk, one that spelled trouble for you. Before you had a chance to ask him anything, you felt him bury himself in you in one fluid snap of the hips. The action causes your jaw to go lax as a silent scream is forced out of your body. 

As Ben continued to fuck you up against the wall, he was quick to wrap his warm lithe fingers around your neck. As a sound behinds to bubble from your chest, Ben squeezes just hard enough that it causes you to hiccup in the middle of your exhale. The smirk on Ben’s face growing more playfully, but you could still see his lust blown pupils. Loosening the squeeze just enough to feel the blood come flooding back to your brain, causing your brain to grow foggy and spacey. And unbeknownst to you, that feeling of your head floating and the rhythm and speed of Ben’s hips snapping into you, was enough to topple you over the edge. 

“Oh you look so pretty cumming on my cock like that.” You feel the hand around your neck slide up your face just enough for his fingers to set over your lips. Without even needing to be told, you opened your mouth. Feeling his fingers slip into your mouth, you couldn’t help but run your tongue over Ben’s fingers. “Fuck…I’m gonna cum. Where do you want me to cum puppy?” You could feel Ben losing his rhythm, but the speed never changed once.

“Mouth.” The word being distorted by his fingers. It was obvious that Ben liked your idea based on the way his cock twitched inside of you. Pulling out, you can’t help but let the soft whimper leave you, at the emptiness. Your sorrow was short lived because in what felt like a blink of an eye, you felt Ben turn you to face him and then gently persuade you to your knees with a gentle push.

On your knees you look up to Ben as he strokes himself. Opening your mouth, you allow your tongue to lull out of your mouth; the simple action causing Ben to groan. As you close your eyes you feel Ben grab a handful of your hair before guiding his cock into your mouth. Moaning at the taste of yourself on him you reached and gently cupped his balls, taking him further into your mouth. Bobbing your head you can feel Ben twitch against your tongue, the feeling spurring you to relax your throat and swallow around him. 

“F-Fuck, puppy I-I’m going to-” Ben’s words being cut off by a growl like groan vibrating his entire chest. You felt him grip a handful of your hair and hold you in place while he came -quite literally- down your throat. Squeezing your eyes shut, you focused on remaining relaxed so as to not start gagging around Ben. As Ben pulled out you couldn’t stop the one single gag that escaped. With his cock out of your mouth, you took sharp ragged breaths in. Tucking his cock back into his boxers, he makes quick work of fixing his pants. Squatting in front of you, Ben tucks a few strands of sweat slicked hair from your forehead. “You okay? I-I wasn’t too rough was I? I didn’t hurt you did I?” You could hear the worry lacing Ben’s words. Shaking your head, you reach up and plant a hand on his chest.

“You didn’t hurt me. I would have stopped if you did.” Your voice hoarse from its rough treatment. Your words helped soothe him only a bit. “I’ll be fine. Honest. All I need is some water and maybe a cough drop or two.” You nudged him playfully, earning a soft chuckle from the older man. 

“Okay, I’ll believe you.” Standing up, Ben offered you a hand and you happily took it. Standing up, you felt Ben pull you into his chest almost instantly. The feeling of the tug causing you to gasp softly. “We should do this again, though let me take you to dinner first.” His words finished with a soft chuckle. 

“Mr. Ben, are you asking one of your student’s parents on a date?” You playfully joke. You wiggle from his grasp so that you can redress your lower half.

“I most certainly am.” You can hear the playfully tone in his voice. “So what do you say? Is it a date?” Looking over at him, you can see a faint blush spread across his tanned face. Buttoning your pants, you reach up to his face. Holding his heated face in your hands, staring into his dark chocolate colored eyes through his black framed glasses, you smile softly.

“It’s a date.” Pulling his face to yours you press your lips to his gently. The kiss short lived at the sound of voices growing louder just before the door swung open. 

“What did Margaret need for Koch’s Deep Time exhib-” The woman's voice stopping as soon as she looked at the two of you. “Excuse me, what are you doing back here? This is a restricted area.” The taller of the two women reaching for the microphone clipped to her folded collar. 

“I told you that this wasn’t the way to the bathroom love.” Ben nudges you. For a moment you’re confused, but then it clicks.

“O-Oh! I told you I wasn’t any good at reading these maps babe.” You grab Ben’s hand and gently pull him along. You look at the two women. “Sorry about this, it was my mistake.” Walking past the two of them you push open the doors and step back into the loud main gallery of the museum. The voices substantially louder than they were only moments ago. 

Looking around, you search for your daughter and her class among the swarms of people. When your eyes landed on the assistant teacher and the class, you sighed softly. With Ben’s hand still in yours, you snake the two of you between bodies. Once closer to the group you gave his hand a gentle squeeze before letting go of his hand.

“Dad, where were you? And why is Mr. Ben's face all red? AND why is staring over here at us?” You look down at your daughter before looking over to Mr. Ben who, in fact, is staring at you.

“I ran off to the bathroom and bumped into your teacher while going in.” Hearing the museum’s tour guide speak up you nudge your daughter -Dahlia- as a way to say ‘pay attention’.  Your eyes slipping back to Ben, the words said earlier echoing in your head. “It’s a date”

credit: @inklore

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