Hurt Me Like You Mean It [BL]-Chapter 51: He’s too good to pass up

"Do it..." Ansel commanded, his rhythm becoming erratic, harder, deeper. "All over this desk, you filthy bitch. Let me see what a fucking mess you can make."

The permission shattered him. With a raw, broken shout, Lance came. It wasn’t just an orgasm—it was an eruption. A hot, gushing flood of liquid shot from his cock, not in pulses but in a continuous, soaking stream, splattering against the desk leg, the floor, his own trousers.

His body convulsed, his hole clamping down on Ansel’s cock and the vibrator in a violent, fluttering rhythm.

Ansel groaned, his own control snapping.

He buried himself to the hilt, his thrusts turning into short, savage jerks as he came inside the condom, his heat adding to the inferno consuming Lance.

For a long moment, the only sounds were their ragged breaths and the wet, sticky drip of Lance’s release onto the tile.

Then, abruptly, Ansel pulled out. The sudden emptiness was a shock. Lance slumped over the desk, boneless, spent, the vibrator still humming its relentless pattern inside his oversensitive channel.

Ansel turned him around, his gaze roaming over the debauched sight: Lance’s flushed chest, his spent cock, the slick, wet evidence of his squirting covering his thighs and pooling below. He curled a finger, beckoning.

"On your knees."

Lance slid off the desk, his legs shaky, and knelt on the hard floor, avoiding the puddle of his own release.

"Clean me up, cocksucker. Show me what that pretty mouth was made for."

Lance leaned forward, his tongue swiping up the length, tasting himself and Ansel.

He took him deep, his throat working, his eyes closed in submission. Ansel’s hand settled in his hair, not guiding, just holding.

"You were born for this...too" Ansel murmured, his voice almost a purr now, watching Lance suck him with a desperate, practiced hunger. "My perfect, filthy cocksucker."

The praise, after the degradation, sent a new, confusing thrill through Lance. He moaned around the cock in his mouth, taking him deeper, his own spent body twitching with a ghost of arousal. The vibrator, still buzzing, reminded him this was far from over.

His grip tightened. "Now, get on the chair."

Ansel’s rhythm faltered mid-thrust when he spotted it.

A tiny, almost imperceptible camera in the corner of the office.

Another, half-hidden behind the stack of books on the shelf. His eyes narrowed, and the heat in his body immediately twisted into sharp, controlled tension.

He pulled back sharply. Lance, still gasping from release, blinked up at him in confusion.

"What—what happened?" Lance started, but Ansel’s grip on his wrist stopped him.

"Get dressed. Now.." Ansel said, voice clipped, eyes scanning the room.

"Ansel..why did you sudd—"

Lance didn’t even finish his sentence when Ansel slammed his hand on the desk.

"Are you fucking stupid? I said fucking get dressed and get out. I don’t want to see you in the college premises. Take a taxi and go straight home."

Lance was shocked at Ansel’s tone, he didn’t say anything else and began wearing his clothes.

Lance stumbled slightly as he scrambled from the desk, his waist hitting the corner sharply.

He flinched, a flash of pain crossing his face.

But Ansel couldn’t care less.

Instead he even looked more irritated.

"Hurry up. You’re wasting time."

Lance blinked, confused and stung. Ansel didn’t even bother to ask if he was okay.

He swallowed the sting, sidestepping the pain as best he could, but inside, a flicker of hurt burned.

As Lance left, holding onto his left side.

Ansel leaned against the chair.

He had gotten careless.

The cameras were one thing—but the footage they could have captured? That was another.

He could have wait here for this office owner so he could get the footage before it spread.

Unlike Lance, he didn’t want his personal life out in the open and he certainly didn’t want other people seeing Lance.

Moments later, the office door clicked open.

Professor Valentino stepped in, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

After months of trying, the heavens had finally blessed him.

Full 30 minutes of Lance getting fucked roughly, he couldn’t count the amount of times he jerked off just watching them go at it like animals.

He bit his lips lightly.

Lance was such a sexy moaner.

He paused, scanning the room.

"Ah Mr. Lowell. It’s a surprise to see you in my office. Did you stumble in here by mistake or could it be that you want something from me.."

Ansel frowned as he leaned back on the chair, so the owner of this office was this creepy old bastard?

"Ah, it must be good to be young. With the way you slammed into him, I thought my beloved desk would break.."

Ansel’s jaw tightened, irritation flickering across his face. Henry first saw him jerk off... now this professor.

Fuck! Everyone was pissing him off today.

And he didn’t like it.

Valentino stepped closer, voice low and eager. "I have to say... his body is perfect. Now that you’ve had him, Ansel, perhaps I should be the one to keep him. You’ve already tasted him—let me have my turn."

Ansel hissed, let him have his turn? Did he have to tattoo his marks on Lance to show them just who that slut belonged to.

"How indecent of you as a professor to think of your student that way.."

Valentino chuckled, like he gave two fucks about that.

Valentino shrugged, leaning casually. "I don’t care. He’s far too fuckable to let go."

Ansel’s eyes narrowed, and Valentino leaned in even closer, his voice almost a hiss. "Tell me, Mr. Lowell... his nipples—if sucked hard enough, would they produce milk? His chest is far more sexier than my wife’s breasts"

"..."

This was enough to make Ansel snap, in one full swoop, he was out of the chair.

Grabbing Valentino by the collar and slamming him against the wall.

"If you’re so curious," Ansel growled, voice low and venomous, "I can fuck you with the same dick that made Lance spread his legs like a whore—"

His grip tightened.

"—but you?" He sneered. "You’re way too ugly for my liking."

Valentino didn’t recoil.

If anything, he smiled wider.

"Sure..." he said lightly, almost amused. "I saw it. The way you fucked him like a wild animal. The way his body shook—his ass jiggling just from the force of it."

Ansel’s jaw tightened.

Valentino tilted his head, eyes gleaming. "So tell me... just how big is that dick of yours?"