How A Gentleman F🦢🎩KS

How A Gentleman Fucks: The Rules

Sebastian Sallow would, for all his manners, charm, and disposition, consider himself to be a gentleman. Not a perfect gentleman, of course.

No— such a monicker and expectation was given to the privileged, like Ominis.

But where he lacked in the pedigree and length of his supposed education and title, he made up for in his skills and character. He was poised, articulate, kind, well-mannered, and above all, appropriate.

He opened doors, gave his greetings, and was the picture-perfect young man of integrity. Fathers, though reluctant, begrudgingly acknowledged him. Siblings welcomed him with open arms. Mothers invited him to tea. And women?

Women swooned after him.

But Sebastian Sallow was known as a gentleman— he was not one to succumb easily to the fawning of young women. He did not chase, did not loiter around, or fawn after her affections.

No— because gentlemen were discreet.

There were a few things a gentleman must remember when he takes a woman to his bed—or a substituted bed:

1. Ensure that the chosen location is clear where one might not be seen and heard.

2. Do leave her wanting more regardless of yours and her satiation. This is to ensure she does not wag her tongue to others.

3. One must remember the importance of protection— be it potions, spells, or the odd but trusted sheepskin.

4. Remember, that a gentleman does not, under any circumstances, ruin one's clothes.

5. Above all, do not find yourself catching feelings before the young lady.

*

"Sebas—"

A moan, long and loud was muffled by a quick shove of a glove in the young lady's mouth. Not his glove mind, you— because propriety and inconspicuousness required no evidence of him ever being near her— save for perhaps the ache he would be leaving between her legs.

"Quiet, now," he murmured, bracing her leg along his hip, drawing mewls with each stroke of his cock from the woman below, "Don't want the help finding us, do you? Or worse—your mother?"

That earned him a gasp, her eyes widening with fear before another thrust put the thought from her mind. And she was at it again, howling through her glove as he sped—the soft thuds of their coupling on the stone wall sending the broomsticks and tools to start shaking.

"Mmm—pwease," she cried out, gagging through the fabric, "Thewe."

And like any good gentleman, if a lady said please and needed help, Sebastian was only obligated to offer his services.

*

"That was... magnificent..."

The young woman crooned, having fallen to the floor, eyes closed in her post-coital bliss. She was disheveled, with wrinkles on her blouse, petticoats, and skirts bunched around her waist, torn garters, a skewed corset, and unbound hair.

Certainly, a stark contrast to what she was before they entered the closet.

She was addled.

Worn down.

And well fucked.

"Happy to oblige, miss," Sebastian chuckled, tucking himself back into his trousers, and taking his wand and waving it with a swish— righting and repairing her clothes in a matter of seconds. She sighed, taking his offered hand to stand on shaky legs.