Celestino is too old for this shit. Working with teenagers implies risking some exposure to melodrama, but there's melodrama and there's--well. Whatever this is.
The first time it happened, Celestino was minding his business, coming back to the dressing room after hitting the gym at the training complex. Usually, nobody's here at this time; it's an hour after practice has finally been dismissed, and the kids should be in their dorm, waiting for the dining hall to open for dinner.
When he hears, "Nnnn, oh please, please more" from the other side of the door, he is exasperated more than anything else. He can tell exactly what's going on and whose voice this is, and he looks forward to breaking up whatever teenage passionate tryst is happening about as much as he looks forward to the weekly call from his mom, who is eighty but believes sons have Responsibilities.
He considers leaving it alone--he's pretty sure it's one of his skater boys, and as far as he can tell, they're all bent like a sickle. But then, teenagers: there might be a girl with him in there. She might get pregnant.
Celestino steels himself.
He didn't know what he expected on the other side of the door, but it wasn't this: Pitchit on a white towel, sitting on one of the benches and leaning against the wall, one hand on his dick and one finger knuckle-deep in his ass.
Like most men who've spent the last thirty years of their lives trying to dodge conversations about finding a nice girl and settling down, Celestino couldn't help it getting to him a little. Pitchit's skin is dark and creamy, his asshole a hairless pucker of dusky grey-pink, his almond-shaped brown eyes wide in shock at being caught. The fucking strand of hair falling over his eyes really isn't helping, either.
"Apologies," he says like the adult he is. "Be careful around here after practice, anyone can walk in and see. Now off to the dorm with you and I'll see you tomorrow."
He'll stop by the bar on his way back from work, and buy himself a double shot whisky as a special reward for being able to say this while keeping his eyes on Pitchit's.
[Part 1] Re: Phichit Chulanont/Celestino Cialdini - exhibitionism, risk of getting caught
Celestino is too old for this shit. Working with teenagers implies risking some exposure to melodrama, but there's melodrama and there's--well. Whatever this is.
The first time it happened, Celestino was minding his business, coming back to the dressing room after hitting the gym at the training complex. Usually, nobody's here at this time; it's an hour after practice has finally been dismissed, and the kids should be in their dorm, waiting for the dining hall to open for dinner.
When he hears, "Nnnn, oh please, please more" from the other side of the door, he is exasperated more than anything else. He can tell exactly what's going on and whose voice this is, and he looks forward to breaking up whatever teenage passionate tryst is happening about as much as he looks forward to the weekly call from his mom, who is eighty but believes sons have Responsibilities.
He considers leaving it alone--he's pretty sure it's one of his skater boys, and as far as he can tell, they're all bent like a sickle. But then, teenagers: there might be a girl with him in there. She might get pregnant.
Celestino steels himself.
He didn't know what he expected on the other side of the door, but it wasn't this: Pitchit on a white towel, sitting on one of the benches and leaning against the wall, one hand on his dick and one finger knuckle-deep in his ass.
Like most men who've spent the last thirty years of their lives trying to dodge conversations about finding a nice girl and settling down, Celestino couldn't help it getting to him a little. Pitchit's skin is dark and creamy, his asshole a hairless pucker of dusky grey-pink, his almond-shaped brown eyes wide in shock at being caught. The fucking strand of hair falling over his eyes really isn't helping, either.
"Apologies," he says like the adult he is. "Be careful around here after practice, anyone can walk in and see. Now off to the dorm with you and I'll see you tomorrow."
He'll stop by the bar on his way back from work, and buy himself a double shot whisky as a special reward for being able to say this while keeping his eyes on Pitchit's.