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"Shattered Silence" by DeXTrodiphen
   (c) Staci Tipsword
   It was always done in silence.
   It was always done in the silent mornings before classes started.  Legs
spread, heavy breathing, but nothing else.  I begged him silently in my
mind to moan, to groan, to...  something.  But he never would.  His blond
goatee would prickle against my face, and yet I didn't have the heart to
break the silence we had grown so used to.  His piercing blue eyes would
look into my boring brown ones and I would melt, and still say nothing.
   It began as usual, with a kiss good-morning on my cheek, leading to
various styles of mouth-kiss as our breathing synchronized.  My heart
always stopped when he kissed me, but I made no noise.  I took my usual
place, on an empty teacher-sized desk in the corner, while he stood in
front of me, looking down at me.  He looked different, but I couldn't
describe it.
   I still remember our first (and last) conversation about love.  He said
he gave up on trying to find love.  I figured he just hadn't met the right
person yet, and that person was me.  After we started this ritual
(accidental as it was) I started to think more and more that maybe he
really has given up on love, that this is just some sort of physical
release and nothing more.  I cried for days after we'd have sex, because he
still made no sound.
   The sex started with a kiss, as it usually does.  I initiated it, and at
first he pushed me away, violently, at first.
   At first.
   Now this has become an almost daily ritual.  Before classes, I go to his
classroom, he locks the door behind me, and we begin, no good-morning, no
how's your day, nothing like that.  No sounds to be made.  And it ended
just the same, a kiss goodbye was rare, but not completely unseen.  But
never was a word spoken.  It was all just understood.
   As I spread my legs, this time, and let his hand come up under my skirt,
he was somehow more gentle, more...  nice?  This was something I wasn't
used to, he usually was rough and to the point, his hand going for the
sweet spot first thing.  But now, he slowly crept up my leg, tickling as he
went along.  It was all I could do to keep the silence.
   I wanted so badly to hear him moan.  My hand snaked down his pants,
attempting to give the best hand-job ever, but all that happened was an
increase in the frequency and urgency of his breath.  All I could think
about was how badly I wanted to hear him moan.  Breaking the kiss, I hopped
off the desk and got on my knees in front of him.  I was now determined to
get him to moan something, or even just a grunt.  I slowly took his head in
my mouth, then the shaft, as I swirled my tongue around the tip, over the
seam.  His breathing quickly got more ragged, but no other sounds were
heard.  Nibbling, sucking, I tried all the tricks, nothing but the two of
us breathing made a sound.  I gave up on the lost cause and laid myself
down on the desk.
   He climbed on top of me and positioned his cock at my entrance.  I was
already wet for him, and he thrusted himself inside of me completely, which
was something new as well.  Normally he'd start slowly to torture me, but
now it seems as if he waited any longer, he would be torturing himself. 
Animalistic would be the term I would use to describe him this morning. 
Fucking me harder and harder, it took everything I had to not make a sound.
But I begged him to, inside of my mind.
   All of the sudden, what I thought I imagined was a reality: he had
moaned my name.  Quickly he came and I came and we went to clean up.  But I
had to ask him something, further shattering our now useless silence.
   "Mister..." I began.
   "Don't." he demanded.
   I didn't want to push the issue, so I let it go.  We got cleaned up, and
then the bell rang for classes.  He kissed me goodbye (rare as that was)
and then I left.  I never did talk to him ever again about our shattered
silence, even though the moan never happened again.  I suppose it's better
that way, complete silence in the morning.
  
Shattered_Silence