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 Ragnar Hall (mf)

   It's the Friday night just before the end of term.  The glass double
door from the moon shaded confines of Lodbrok Gardens nearly booms as I
enter Ragnar Hall, you following my lead hand in hand.  Grey stripes of
moonlight strafe the rank and file of chairs from the evening's concert a
few hours past.  The air is a mix of the earlier heavy exertions of nervous
performers and the exhalations of a packed hall.

   Ragnar is an intimate space.  Part of the original campus.  Red brick
outside, hardwood inside, with a forte for a tradition of accommodation and
adaptation of the best to any purpose needing.  "What?  What?" you ask with
an inquisitive giggle as I shush you twice in pedantic response.  Both our
utterances warmly reverberating through the timber rafters and hand
plastered upper walls of the Hall.

   I move us towards the temporary stage at the end of the hall, where you
had brought the house down earlier that evening.  Moving in close, you
catch your breath just as I bend my head down.  My hands on your side, I
ease you against the wall.  You tense, mouthing the word "No" with faint
breath.  I turn, look around.  We're masked in shadow.  I stare intently,
as stray glints through the shadowy tree limbs outside glimmer from your
eyes.  "What?  I thought you'd like..."

   The wind bellows and I catch a full frame of your face, the silver
moonlight stunning with your pale skin.  Turning you instead to face the
bank of doors onto the garden, I slide my hands from your sides onto your
wrists.  Catching each arm I back you to the far wall, in the corner by the
fireplace and its flanking faux doors.

   Under the balcony at the other end of the hall is a little darker, but
this is somewhere safer, with no usable doors nearby.  You're still in your
concert black dress as you feel the woodwork of the wall contact your back
as I bring each wrist and its trailing arm above your head.

   Tugging just a bit to give your body a nice long vertical stretch as I
close the gap again between our heads.  A quick but assertive peck is
followed by "Better?" and my tall form presenting itself all along your
formal wear as the alternative to the wood panelled wall crenulating your
back.  My lips meet yours again, readily reconciling, and I accept a
muffled "Mmmm hmmm" of approval in the mash.

   I pull up on the hands above your head, lifting you just slightly, a
welcome relief of pressure off your toes.  Inhaling the expressions of
perturbation as you feel your body against mine.  And a definite lump
snaking down my trousers giving no uncertainty as to my opinion about
present company.  My lips slide off yours as I kiss your cheek and chin.

   "For me?" you inquire teasingly but a bit breathy, grinding a bit
against me at our middles.  I release your hands but they just lie against
the wall otherwise unmoving.  Nestling my head into the left side of your
neck, your arms now parted slightly above you, I kiss your ear and nibble
on your neck, letting my hands slide down onto your shoulders.

   "Say hello to Mr.  Johnson" is my reply as the firm pressure build on
your shoulders, guiding you down.  Hands above your head trailing behind as
you sink to your knees, laminated between the wall and myself.  Your hands
on my chest, welcoming more contact with the soft white dress shirt, your
head resting against my crotch.

   "Anyone in there?" you whisper, keenly aware of how the last phrase from
me is still warm through the rafters.  I reach down to unzip, and pull out
the likely suspect.  In the close quarters it slides quickly between the
gap of your parted lips.

   You hear an exhalation flare from my nose above as I lean against the
wall, supporting myself with my other hand against the wall like a right
triangle above you.  Two eager bobs and you've forged a sword of stiff
steel, your frission of delight encapsulated by a "mmhmmmMMm" transmitted
up my member.

   I back off slightly and you whimper in protest as my member slips from
your lips.  Pulling you back up by the hands still on my chest, a flicker
of recognition consoles you, expressed with an "Oh?" conjuring with my near
simultaneous assertion of "Yes." You feel my hands slide down your wrists
to your arms and shoulders, and further to your sides, and down to your
hips.  My hands pulling your dress up as they have descended.

   Nodding and returning my lips to your left neck, my member out and
poking under your now raised hemline.  I slip my hands under the raised
fabric and tug down on your panties.

   You alternate between quick panicked scans of the rooms and closing your
eyes tight to indulge in the sensation.  Distracted, you realise your
panties have somehow evaporated away only to condense on the floor below
you, and I'm firm, and between your legs.  A hand on each buttock, I lift
you.  Your arms descent and wrap around my back, holding me tight as I prop
you up against the wall.  Easing in you are more than welcoming as I let
gravity do most of the work.  You shudder to accommodate as I thrust.

   I can hear your rasping as you squeeze me tight and I give these walls a
pounding they likely haven't felt since original construction.  The edge is
close and orgasm comes quickly for both of us.  Mine a standing stiff
shudder and a warm gush.  Yours a quick passage of rapid breaths and a
quivering start, amended with staccato triplet of "Oh Oh Oh" singing
clearly through Ragnar's similarly receptive volume.

   ....

   Down the tree lined path we part in front of your dorm.  I linger for a
moment before we separate for the evening.  A keen smile on my face knowing
the most productive part of my night had been slowly slipping down your
thigh for the entire walk back.  I give you a quick kiss goodnight before
you scurry back to your room, lest the gap between you and the shower be
beaten by the droplet of not quite sticky enough semen attempting to
advance into the public side of your hemline.

   -----------------

   Copyright (C) 2016.  Written by William.  Inspired by his muse, Meine
Liebling Brunhilde.  Find more at verydirtystorytime.tumblr.com

   Creative Commons 4.0 CC BY-NC.  Permission given for redistribution with
attribution to William and Brunhilde, for Non-commercial use only.