Chapter 12 – Dame Esa Leche
"So, do I use
ser
or
estar
here?" Efrain asks, one hand taking careful notes, the other under the table teasing the inside of my thigh.
"
Ser
." Usually, I'd ask him some questions to help him figure it out for himself, but I'm too distracted by his hands to be a proper tutor. He gives me a quick thanks and returns to his practice exercises. I try to work on the literature for my advanced Spanish class, but I've read the same three sentences over and over without any of it sticking.
The rest of it slides out of my head when his fingers brush against my erection.
It's pretty damn hard to keep our hands off each other when we study alone. When we camped out on his bed, we ended up fucking. When we took opposite sides of the room, we ended up fucking. When we took it to the couch, we ended up fucking. When we sat on the floor, we ended up fucking.
We're sitting at Indie's dining table now, but we will probably end up fucking.
As if to underscore this, his hand unbuttons my pants and his fingers slip under my waistband. His knuckles brush against my shaft and I bite back a moan. All this time, however, he's still casually writing out his exercises. Well, two can play this game. I slip my hand onto his lap and start fumbling with his zipper.
He pops my fingers with a small, sharp slap and I pull back with a surprised yelp.
"Hey what's this? I thought you wanted to study." He says this, even though it's his fingers stroking me under the table.
I narrow my eyes at him. "You're the one playing around."
"I don't know what you're talking about." He runs his thumb over the tip; enough pre-cum beads at my slit to make it slippery as he rubs tight little circles around my head. His fingers wrap around my dick. A little whimpering noise escapes me before I can swallow it back down.
He turns back to his notebook and points to a sentence on the paper. "Did I use the right conjugation here?" His hand lightly squeezes my shaft. My eyes roll back in my head.
"Huh?"
"So, Mr. We-really-need-to-do-homework-this-time-Efrain," he mocks as his fingers start sliding up and down my dick. "What happened to helping me with my Spanish?"
***
I find Efrain in the dining room, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Cory. Their notebooks, textbooks, and other study paraphernalia spill out across the table.
"Could you stop?" Cory asks.
"Stop what?" he answers.
I clear my throat and both men look up at me. Cory adjusts his glasses nervously. "Do we have any kosher salt left?"
"I think so," Efrain says. "Did you look in the pantry?" His tone is nonchalant, but for some reason Cory's clenching his hands and biting his lip. His cheeks look flushed.
"Is he okay?"
"Yeah. Why wouldn't he be?" Cory squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath.
"If you say so."
Suddenly, Efrain blinks in surprise before his mouth twists into a smirk. Cory puts his head on the table with a quiet whimper. He quietly moans something that sounds suspiciously like "I'm going to kill you, 'Rain."
I'm a little confused, but then I realize that Efrain's hand is below the table doing I don't want to know what. Leaving the room now seems like a really good idea.
God, that asshole better wash his hands before he touches my stuff.
***
My attention span is currently occupied with two things – how warm and alive his dick feels in my hand and keeping a straight face. I have no idea what I'm writing on my paper. It only vaguely looks like Spanish.
Indie walks in asking about salt.
I'm about to pull my hand out of Cory's pants when his cock suddenly quickens. I stroke him and he takes a huge breath as if to calm himself. I stroke him more and his dick pulses against my fingers.
Without warning, Cory cums. He slumps forward to hide his face, but he isn't able to hide the little noises. I can't help smiling.
As if sensing what's going on under the table, Indie backs out of the room, and we're alone again.
"He's gone."
Cory doesn't lift his head. "I'm seriously going to kill you."
I lean over and nibble his neck. He starts panting again.