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It seemed like this should’ve been harder, maybe. You certainly thought it’d take longer for you to end up being asked to meet with Patrick during his office hours directly after class. Not even three full weeks’ worth of lectures and your determination to look like you were cast on Paris Hilton’s My New BFF, and you were already under his skin. At least, that was where you hoped this was leading. He hadn’t been filling in for your professor for long enough to have anything real to grade yet that would need to be discussed, and your behavior in class had been fine. Possibly a bit on the argumentative side, but nothing that you could truly be reprimanded for in any official capacity.
You followed him across the building, steps falling in sync with his. The likelihood that this was about something serious was low but not entirely impossible. You hadn't done anything to warrant being spoken to, though that didn’t necessarily mean he wouldn't try it anyway. All too often were small infractions blown out of proportion and taken entirely out of context in the name of discipline.
It only took a few minutes to get to his office, and by the time you’d reached the door, you were already deep in the act of innocence. Anything he asked, you would deny until you knew it was the right moment to reveal it. You hadn't gotten a read on him yet; if you admitted everything from the get go, there could be actual trouble. That was the last thing you wanted - you needed this class to graduate and it was far too late into the term to transfer.
He ushered you inside, gesturing to the chair on the opposite side of his desk. You took a seat gingerly, careful to smooth your skirt down before crossing your legs at the knee. You straightened your spine, squared your shoulders back, made sure that the hem of your shirt was just low enough that he could see your cleavage but not so low that it'd be inappropriate.
“Why do you think I’ve asked you to speak with me today?” He settled into his own seat, posture nearly perfect as he relaxed against the faux leather. It took everything in you not to roll your eyes at the question. Of course this would be the approach he took. He wanted you to tattle on yourself. All he’d managed to do, though, was tell you that he had no real reason for bringing you in here. Your confidence soared as you leaned back against your seat.
“You know you can’t dress code me, right, sir?” You asked, though it was very clear it was meant to be rhetorical. You knew where this was going. The handbook had been consulted and poured over before you’d started this little mission. Unshockingly, it was incredibly non-specific when it came to what was and wasn’t allowed beyond no harmful slogans and no full nudity. Scantily clad as you may or may not have been, you were fully clothed. “The university has no explicit rules against skirts of any length. I checked.”
“Of course you did,” he muttered under his breath. It was clear that he was annoyed that you had an answer for it already, like he’d been hoping to shake you by bringing up your choice in clothing under the assumption that you hadn’t looked into it. You’d beat him to the punch, though, and he looked unhappy that you’d figured out his strategy so quickly. “No, I’m aware that there’s no formal corrective action for your taste in outfits. I can, however, bring to your attention that they may be considered distracting to some.”
“And who may that be, sir?” You leaned yourself forward, forearms hitting his desk as you slid to the edge of the chair you were perched on. “Is my education not considered as important as those who may be distracted? Better yet, is my free will and right to express myself however I see fit not more important than the potential for distraction? So long as I’m within the school’s very, very loose dress code, of course.” Verbal sparring with him wasn’t anything new to you. Making it about yourself, however… That was territory you’d yet to tread across.
He sighed, leaning back in his own seat to look you over. You could feel his eyes linger for longer than strictly necessary at the neckline of your shirt, and it took everything in you to tamp down a smirk. There was no need to show your whole hand so quickly here. Not when he was playing into it without even realizing it. You settled your weight onto your forearms even further, meeting his eyes in challenge. You’d always known they were light, but you’d never realized what a pretty color they actually were. This wasn't the time to get lost in them, though. You needed to focus until you were positive you had him where you wanted him.
“Your education and right to express your individuality are both equally important in my class-”
You cut him off, “You mean Ms. Symanski’s class. She’s still overseeing everything from maternity leave, isn’t she?” Satisfaction bloomed in your chest when you saw how his jaw clenched at being cut off. He was typically so much more collected in class; it was indescribably pleasing to see him struggle to keep it together now that it was just the two of you alone.
His voice was tight when he started speaking again a few moments later. “That’s correct. She is still overseeing the course, but as you’re aware, I’m the interim professor while she’s out on leave.” He’d given a whole speech at the beginning of his tenure with your class that he was no different than your actual professor and that he was just stepping in while she was out, but that he was to be treated the same. You knew this was getting under his skin.
“Oh, I’m very aware that you’re likely to be here for the rest of the semester at the very least.” You’d planned for this to take much longer than it had, so you’d gone over the odds that your own professor would be back before break. They seemed incredibly unlikely from what you’d overheard. “There’ll be plenty of time for us to come to an understanding of what your expectations are for me.”
“Do you enjoy arguing? Or is there something specific about me that prompts this response from you every time we speak?”
It was easy to pretend that his remark was coming out of thin air. Feigning ignorance, you blinked at him with the best confused look you could put on. You’d practiced it in the mirror a few times to make sure it didn’t look too phony, and you could only hope it was coming across as semi sincere to him. “I’m not sure what you mean. Are you referring to the debates I participate in during class? I was under the impression those were encouraged. I can check the syllabus again, but participation does count for a portion of our final grade, does it not?”
Patrick’s face hardened as he looked you over again. It was a little intimidating, you had to admit. As handsome as he was, his stern expression was one to be rivaled. It was one you hoped to never be on the other side of for any serious reason, but you couldn't help how wet you were getting. It would've been so easy to look away, to squirm and crack under the pressure of his gaze. You kept eye contact, though, not wanting to look away and seem like you were backing down from this. You weren’t.
“Sir, respectfully, I’m just not understanding the problem here. I’m participating in group discussions, my attendance is perfect, I don't see why you've called me in here.” Your façade must've slipped, even if just for a moment, because suddenly, Patrick was shifting to lean forward across his desk. It was a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment; one second, he was resigned, back slouched against his leather desk chair and the next, his whole body was crowding across papers and notebooks to get as close to you as he could manage. You couldn't have been more than five or six inches apart now, and you were frozen in place.
“You’re playing with me.”
You blinked in shock. The change in his demeanor threw you entirely off kilter. Had you pegged him completely wrong? You’d seen how fiery he could be when he was challenged during lessons, but you thought that was just because he was passionate about the subject at hand. You figured that he’d be different outside of the lecture hall. Was this just…how he was? For the first time, you started to consider that you may have been in over your head here.
“Sir?”
“You’re playing with me. This is a game for you, isn't it? You're trying to push me over the edge with your short little skirts and your constant rebuttals and now you're playing dumb. It’s not a good look on you.”
“But the skirts are?” You couldn't help yourself. The words came out without your permission, but you couldn't take them back unless you wanted to look like you were trying to take everything back. He was right, of course he was. You knew you were just trying to see how much it would take for him to break, and now you knew he did, too. It was time to give up the gun, you thought, to lean wholly into the act and see what else he would give you. “Who am I a distraction to in class, sir? Is it you?”
There was a flash in his eyes that said he was considering walking all of this back now that he was sure you were going to try to see it through. That was the last thing you wanted. You’d gotten this far, you’d made it here. He was standing on the edge of the precipice, and you knew that it wouldn’t take much to tip him one way or the other. It would’ve been wise for you to tread careful with this, you supposed, so you didn’t scare him off. You could feel your panties starting to stick to your pussy, even with just this much. You couldn’t think of much that would be worse than being sent home to your dildo to handle it yourself, but the urge to push was too much to deny. You just had to know.
“Do I make it difficult for you to get through your lessons? I’ve been dressing up for you, you know?” His eyes widened minutely, but you caught it. It was enough to spur you on further and keep you going. “You haven’t seen them yet, but my panties match my outfit. I keep bending over and hoping you notice… You’re so polite, though. I’ve never caught you looking…” You leaned forward, your shirt riding down for the top of your bra to poke out. “I wish you would look, sir.”
He stood quickly, shoving his chair out from underneath him. You watched as he rounded the corner of the desk, his height intimidating only now that you were looking up at him from where you were still seated. His expression was still stern, but you could tell that he was interested. There was no way he wasn’t, not with how he leaned forward over you, pressing himself into your space. You say back from his desk, turning your body so you were facing each other.
“You’re not my professor, Patrick,” you reminded him, voice smaller than it had been when you’d spoken earlier. You tilted your head back, nearly coming nose to nose with him. “You won’t even be here by the end of next semester, this is fine.” You dragged your eyes from his to study his lips, his arms, his chest. “I’ve been trying to get your attention. Don’t you want to give it to me?”
It was enough of a gust to blow him over the edge, based on the way he lunged forward. His palm was heavy against your cheek, left to steady himself as he pressed his mouth against yours. The scratch of his stubble against your skin set your nerves alight. Where were you supposed to focus? The weight of his hands, one moving closer to your throat as each second passed and the other at your waist to pull you up from your chair? His calloused fingers against your jaw had you gasping against his lips. It was so easy to imagine what they’d feel like tracing over your clit, pushing inside you. Or the feeling of his tongue slipping into your mouth, sliding against yours with practiced ease that made envy flare behind your ribs? You wanted to know how he’d gotten so good at this, where else he’d been before he was here. Who had captured his attention before it had been you.
“Up, sweetheart,” he murmured when you didn’t move fast enough for his liking. “You wanted my attention so bad, now you have it. What are you going to do with it?” Like he was asking what you were going to do with him , without wanting to admit that he was as desperate to know as you were to execute. It was obvious, though, blatant in the way he gripped your waist hard enough for you to be sure that you’d feel it later. Knowing that did more to you than you could admit in that moment, but you could still feel the burn deep behind your rib cage. You scrambled to your feet gracelessly, your chest pressed hard against his.
“Wanna show you,” you breathed out, eyes darting between his features. It was impossible to pick one spot to focus on. “Wanna show you how good I can be, I just need someone to teach me.” You reached for his cardigan, pushing it off his shoulders the best you could without letting your hands leave his body for too long. “Can I show you? I need it so bad, please .”
He dropped his hands for just long enough to let you rid him of his outer layer of clothing, though he stopped you when you started to unbuckle his belt. The disappointment in your face must’ve been clear, because he let out a little laugh and ran his thumb over your lower lip. Without hesitation, you darted your tongue out to lick across the pad of it, letting the line of spit stay connected when you brought your tongue back into your mouth. His low groan was enough to have you grinning up at him again. “ Please , sir?”
Patrick hesitated for a few moments, thumb still left to rest on your lip. He blinked slowly as he shook his head. “Not yet, sweetheart. I want to hear about all the things you’ve been dying to let me do to you first, then you can have my cock.” Where the fuck had that come from? You were hit with instant whiplash from hearing him even say the word cock, let alone promising to give you his.
You whined, trying again in vain to get him to remove something else. He held both of your wrists in one hand and placed his other on the small of your back to move you as he pleased. The edge of his desk jammed into your hips, the acute pressure almost painful. All it served to do was heighten your senses, despite how uncomfortable the position was. He edged into your space again, close enough to feel his presence but not close enough to be touching.
“Talk first. I want to open you up nice and slow while you tell me what your plan was here.” He pushed your skirt up above your hip bones before dragging your panties down your legs. They caught on one ankle, but both of you were too preoccupied to notice. Dropping your wrists in favor of a much better use of his hands, he dragged one finger up your slit, circling your clit lightly before pulling away entirely. “You’re awfully wet for just having started. Tell me what you're thinking about.”
You let your legs fall open, knee falling to the side so that he could see exactly how wet your pussy was for him. You reached for his hand and brought it back to your body, raising your hips ever so slightly in an effort to get him to do anything . He let it happen, but that got you was a tut and another stern look and nothing else. You really weren't going to get anything else until you complied.
“I was thinking,” you sighed shakily. “I was thinking about how good your cock is gonna feel when you push it inside my cunt, sir. Every time I fuck myself, I think about you.” That was no exaggeration; you’d been plagued with thoughts of how big his cock was, how thick and hot and solid he’d feel inside you. You thought about how he’d look under all his classroom-appropriate clothes and how he’d sound when he wasn't so perfectly in control. Every time you got yourself off, it was with him behind your eyelids. “Ever since I met you, I imagined my dildo was your cock.”
That was clearly the right answer, and you were rewarded right away for it. Patrick slid one finger inside your pussy and curled it back toward himself. Your body jolted at how sudden the motion was, hips pressing forward without warning before you could stop yourself. His free hand wrapped around your hip and dug in, pushing you back down to where you'd started. “Keep going,” he urged. His voice was strangled as he tried to keep himself in check.
“When you first walked in, I didn't realize you were going to be around for so long, I just knew I wanted to get on my knees for you right there.” That may have been a bit of an exaggeration, but you had instantly been attracted to him. From the moment you’d seen him, you’d known that you wanted him. You leaned back onto your hands, letting your head hang as his thumb grazed your clit. It was barely anything, but you gasped anyway. “And then you came back the next day and the day after and I knew I had to do something.”
“Something like throw yourself at your professor.” It wasn't even a question, despite the context. You both knew that you were doing just that. He slid his thumb up to rest above your clit, teasing any kind of pleasure with every slow thrust of his fingers. “Do you act like such a slut for every man you find attractive? How many other people on campus have you done this for?”
“None,” you promised quickly, fighting against his hold to be able to roll your hips. “‘M not that big of a whore, I promise. I just really wanted you, sir. Sometimes your pants are tight and I could always see the outline of your cock… It looks so big, I practiced so I could take it all when you finally let me. I know I can, I wanna show you.” You were bordering on desperate now, ready to tell him anything he wanted to hear as long as he’d give you more.
He tsked at you as he pulled his finger all the way out of you. The hand that had just been inside you rested against your cheek now, the leverage he gained being used to yank you into a sitting position. “Tell me the truth, sweetheart, and I’ll give you my fingers back.” He leaned in further, the ghost of his breath floating over your own lips. “It sounds like you're a pretty big slut to me, baby. You really haven't done this with another one of your professors? Never had anyone else show you how to behave before you came to me?” There was a possessive undertone in his voice that you'd be lying if you said didn't excite you even more.
You shook your head frantically, moving one of your hands out from behind you to hold onto his wrist. Your fingers barely made it all the way around, not quite connecting on either side of his arm. “No, never, I’ve never–” you whined. “Never hit on someone like you before. ‘M not a slut, sir. I just hook up with people at parties sometimes, ‘m not like this…”
Patrick made a noise of disagreement. He tilted his body further toward you, leaving himself almost close enough for you to taste. “You’re making a mess of my desk from one kiss and a minute of me touching your pussy. I know a slut when I see one, baby, and I think you were born to be one. That’s what you wanted, though, isn't it? To be my pretty little slut?” You were dripping down your legs and onto the desk, watching him as he watched you. He made it clear he didn’t believe you in the slightest, from the sound of his voice to the look in his eye.
You inhaled sharply, having no choice but to meet his eyes with how close your faces were now. Didn't he have a point? This was exactly what you’d hoped for when you started dressing in skimpier clothing and talking back during class. You wanted to push him so far that he had no choice but to snap. “Y-yes, sir. I wanna be your slut, please, please, please .” Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, his eyes trailing up to follow the movement.
“But you don't know how, isn't that right?” He asked, still focused on your mouth. “You know how to dress in tight little outfits and argue with me, you know how to be a brat, but no one who’s fucked you ever taught you how to be good.” You couldn't tell if he was talking more to you or to himself by the end, but you nodded anyway. Your skin was on fire now. Listening to him talk to you like that had sent your pulse into overdrive and you were feeling it all over your body. “I’ll teach you, sweetheart, don't worry. You’ll be so good for me by the time I’m done with you. Sweet little thing like you, I know you've got it in you to do anything I ask when I’ve got you like this.”
“Whatever you want, sir, I’ll do whatever you want. I just need you to show me how to be good, I wanna be so good for you,” you swore. It was getting harder and harder to hold back from trying to kiss him again. He’d made it apparent that he was in control of the situation now, though, and you didn't want to run the risk of having him stop again to reprimand you further.
He ran his thumb over your cheek slowly, studying your whole face before he nodded. “You’ll be good for me. You’re already being good. I want you to get my fingers nice and wet, and then I’ll put them back in your pussy while you finish telling me what you did when you went home and thought of me.” His fingers trailed across your skin until they met your lips. You parted them eagerly, letting him slide two fingers into your mouth as you let go of his arm. He let you lap over them for a few moments before pushing them in deeper. “I want to see how much you can take before gagging,” he murmured, purposefully trying to hit the back of your throat. “Need to see if you can take my whole cock or if I’m going to need to train you. You look like you could, but you look like you know all about what you're doing and we both know that’s not true, right, baby? You still need someone to show you how to do so much…”
More wetness leaked from your cunt out onto the enamel of Patrick’s desk. You were eager to prove you could handle it, desperate to show him that you were ready to let him fuck your mouth whenever he wanted. You’d drop to your knees instantly if he so much as mentioned that he wanted that. It took a few hard thrusts of his fingers to have you gagging. “Yeah, you still need me to teach you. I can help you learn, make sure you know exactly what you're doing so you can be perfect for me.” He pulled his hand back entirely, smiling at you. “Good girl, baby. Take your shirt off for me. Let me see your tits. I know you think I haven't been looking, but you've just been too busy trying to piss me off to notice that I have been.”
Your mouth popped open as you stared in shock. There was no way you’d been so oblivious the whole time. You’d been paying such careful attention to him; you would have noticed him looking. He smacked your hip, not enough to hurt but enough to remind you that he'd asked for something from you. You scrambled to yank your shirt over your head and toss it aside. It was enough to earn you his fingers back, not just one but two this time. You moaned out lowly as he grazed over your G-spot, still unable to do anything to get his fingers deeper with him holding you still.
“Pretty, sweetheart. So pretty, I knew you'd look so fucking good like this.” He gave another few thrusts of his fingers before he leaned in to kiss you again. You were still focused on the feeling of having him touching you again that you didn't see it coming. Only after you felt the roughness of his beard against you did you realize what was happening. You wished you'd been more present for the kiss; so quickly, he was pulling away to speak. “You know what you need to do if you want me to keep touching you, baby.” His fingers started to slow with his reminder.
“Please, please ,” you begged, grabbing onto his wrist, tighter this time, to keep him from pulling away again. “I don't- it feels so good, I don't remember, please don't stop.” Your head was spinning with need. You’d do whatever he wanted, but you couldn't think about anything except the way his fingers felt inside of you and how much better it would feel when you finally got his cock inside you.
He cooed at you, continuing with his newly adjusted pace. “Oh, baby, you can't be this fucked out just yet, can you? You’re gonna be completely brainless by the time you get my cock in you. You've been so keyed up, hm?” You nodded readily. It'd been weeks of trying and failing to get his attention, and then going home and getting off as many times as you could while you thought about him. Finally getting him to give you what you wanted was overwhelming. “You're supposed to be telling me how you fucked yourself, wishing it was me. Go ahead. You’ve got such a pretty voice, I want to hear you.”
“I- Oh fuck , Patrick!” You'd only just started to gather your thoughts and obey him when he started scissoring his fingers inside your cunt, a third finger rubbing against the rim of your pussy as a promise of what was to come. He was pleased with himself, the small laugh he let out wasn't hiding anything. “I fucked myself almost every day thinking about you. I went back to my apartment after class and locked my door and- shit , more, I need more.” He hummed at you, the way he did when a student lost their point halfway through their answer. You wouldn't be getting anything else until you gave him what he wanted. “I p-practiced.”
“You practiced,” he repeated, nudging another finger into you. You threw your hand back against the desk to steady yourself. The slap of your skin against the surface stung, but it was a refreshing sensation in comparison to the slow build in your gut. “How did you practice for me?”
“I bought a bigger dildo. I didn't,” you took a deep breath, hips trying to buck with no success. He was stronger than he looked. All it took was one hand to keep you firmly in place. “I didn't think the one I had was as big as you are. I had to go get a bigger one.” A groan rumbled out from his chest, his forehead coming to lean against yours. You dropped your voice lower, words barely audible above the wet sounds coming from where he was thrusting his fingers into you. “I spent so long thinking about your cock… I looked for a really long time, I wanted to make sure I got it right. I wanted to be able to stretch myself out enough so that you could just slide in without having to do anything.” His fingers drove in harder as you spoke, pulling broken whimpers from your chest.
“What did you do with your new toy, baby? How did you stretch yourself out for me, hm? How did it feel?”
“ Big . It stretched me out so good, especially when I rode it. I imagined it was you every time I used it.” You let your eyes fall closed, trying to remember all the things you’d done while thinking about him. “I rode it a lot. I have a chair in my room, and I-” You gasped at the feeling of him pressing his thumb over your clit. “Sometimes I stuck it on my shower wall and pretended you were fucking me from behind. And then I dropped to my knees and tried to fit it all in my mouth after I came all over it. One night I fell asleep with it inside my cunt still, I woke up so fucking turned on. I was late to class that day.” You opened your eyes again, trying to meet his eyes. Based on how he looked back at you, he remembered that day, too. “I tried to fuck my ass, but it was too big. I wanna be able to take your cock no matter how, I wanted to be prepared. I don't wanna make any decisions, just wanna let you fuck name however you want.”
That was his breaking point. In an instant, his fingers were pulled out of you so he could yank his pants down. Finally, blessedly, you caught a glimpse of his cock. You clenched around nothing, willing yourself to keep your hands where they were on the desk. It was difficult. His cock was even better than you had thought it would be, longer than even your new dildo and thick . You could almost feel it stretching you out, pushing the limits of what you could take. You wanted nothing more than to see how much you could take, let him push you around and push you past your limit and keep you begging for moremore more .
He wrapped a hand around himself, stroking up and down the length a few times as he looked you over. “You’re one second away from drooling, sweetheart. What do you think? Were you right, is your toy big enough?” When you shook your head, he stepped toward the desk again. “Do you want me to stretch you out more, baby? I can put my fingers back in you if you think it’s too big. Fuck you a little longer, play with your pussy until it’s nice and loose for me. I don't want to hurt my perfect little slut.” Underneath the dirty talk, you could tell he was concerned for your comfort.
“No no no, please, I’m ready, I can take it. Please just put your cock inside me, I need it so bad.” You were sure you'd lose your mind if you had to stare at him like this, inches from your cunt when all you were getting were his fingers. They felt amazing, but it wasn't going to be enough anymore. You’d lose it long before he ever got his cock in you if he didn't do it now. You reached out but stopped yourself before you touched him, waiting for his permission before crossing that line. He’d been the one to initiate every touch so far; you didn't know what you were allowed.
“You’re allowed to touch me. You've been so good for me, baby, you can touch.” That was all you needed to close the gap and wrap one of your hands around his cock, knocking his to the side. You circled your finger around the tip of it, watching in satisfaction when his hips kicked forward ever so slightly. As you ran a thumb over the slit, precum covering the pad, Patrick grabbed your wrist. “Don’t tease me. Did you bring a condom?”
“I didn't- I wasn't expecting it today,” you admitted, blushing. You thought it would've taken so much longer to get to this point, and you hadn't come prepared. “I wanna feel you, wanna let you fuck me raw and cum inside me. ‘M clean, ‘m protected. Want you to fuck me so hard I feel it tomorrow.” You guided his cock to rest against your pussy, the tip barely pressing into you. You were going to let him make the decision here. If he wanted to back out now and get you off some other way, he could, but you were letting him know exactly what you wanted. “I’ve never let anyone fuck me raw before.”
He stared at you for a moment. It was hard for you to tell what he was thinking. You didn't want him to leave you high and dry, but you knew it was possible. All concerns disappeared when he shoved his hips forward to meet yours, sliding as far in as he could in one go. It knocked the breath from both of you. You surged toward him to wind your arms around his neck, one leg kicking up to hook around him. “Feels so fucking good, oh my god, you feel so good. So thick, I can feel you stretching me out,” you whined, letting your head loll forward and rest against his chest.
“Your cunt is amazing, baby, feels even better than I thought it would. And trust me, I thought about it.” He leaned down to kiss your neck, the sensation of his beard on your skin making you shiver. “I could tell you were made to take cock, just from the way you walked in with those skirts.” He pulled his hips back a bit and thrust in again, going deeper than he had been the first time. “I’m gonna make you take everything I want to give you, make sure you know how to handle it all.”
You nodded against his chest, your forehead rubbing against the fabric of the shirt he hadn't bothered to take off. There was nothing you wanted more than to take everything he could ever give you. He could've said anything, asked for anything from you and you would've said yes as long as he kept fucking you. “Wanna take it all, Patrick, fuck .”
He fisted his hand in the skirt that was still rucked up over your hips and pulled you closer to the edge of the desk. “You're taking it so well, you're so fucking good for me. I’m gonna make you cum so hard.” You lifted your head in hopes to reconnect your lips with his, but the sight you were met with was better than you could've imagined. He was sweating, skin shining under the awful fluorescent lights of his office. His eyes darted from your chest to your cunt, like he couldn't decide if it was better to watch the way your tits were starting to spill from your bra or the way your hips lifted from the desk to get his cock as deep as you possibly could. You moaned at the thought that watching you was getting him off, bringing his attention back to your face. “Am I making you feel good? Are you going to cum for me?”
“Please, fuck, need you to–” You reached for his hand and brought it back to your clit. “ Please .” It wasn't going to take much to set you off after how much he teased you earlier. The way he made you tell him all of the things you'd done to yourself had stirred something deep inside you, and you were having trouble holding your orgasm back. You wanted this to last longer. If this was the only time you’d get the chance to have this, you didn't want to be some quick fuck that made no impact. You wanted him to go home and think about how good you were for him, how perfect your pussy felt around him, how pretty you looked when you were getting fucked. You needed him to think of you the same way you’d been thinking about him, hot and frantic and frenzied, no hope in sight until he took care of himself thinking about how well you'd opened up for him.
The thought of Patrick at home in bed taking his cock out because he was thinking of you, mixed with the rough pads of his fingers against you was too much for you to handle all at once. You pulled him down to you, trying to kiss him but failing to do much other than moan into his mouth. You clenched around him, breathing in the groan he let out at the feeling. You could feel every muscle in your body contracting, from the way that your nose scrunched to how your toes curled inside your shoes. His pace never relented even as he tilted both of you back, trying to gain more leverage to pound into you harder. He worked you through your orgasm without hesitation, fingers only stilling on your clit when you started to whine that it was too much. They sat over top of it as he continued his thrusts.
“I’m going to teach you how to keep taking it, sweetheart. Push through the feeling until you're begging for it again, get you off on my cock so many times you lose count.” He let up, though, letting your hips moved in small jolts as you rode out your high. “See how much you can take and then give you even more, make you into my perfect little whore.” He was talking himself off , you realized once some of the fog lifted from your brain. Your pussy squeezed again at that.
“Yeah, want that, want that so bad, sir,” you sighed, voice breaking in the middle. His thrusts were starting to falter; it wouldn't take much more before he finished, too. The least you could do was make sure he felt as good as he'd made you feel. “Wanna let you lay me out and fuck me over and over. Wanna work for it before you give me your cum, wanna be so fucking good for you all the time.”
That was enough for him to pull out, reaching down to stroke himself hard and fast. You batted his hand away and wrapped your own fist around his cock. “Wanna make you cum myself, can I do it? I wanna do that for you.” Batting your eyelashes up at him, you moved your hand as fast as you could manage in your still-lagging state. It was enough, though, because it only took another few strokes for you to feel him spill hot and messy all over your cunt. You grinned at him before letting go, running your fingers over yourself and through his cum. “Thank you, sir,” you murmured before sticking your fingers in your mouth and sucking.
You could feel him staring without even looking back to his face. It made your skin heat up again; you were sure you were red by now. You’d been so able to put your shame aside through this whole encounter, but now that it was over, you were feeling shy for once? It didn't make sense to you. You could beg him to fuck you raw no problem, but as soon as he had and you were coming down, suddenly there was an issue? You needed to figure yourself out.
Daring to glance up again, you were proven right when your eyes met his. The direct eye contact sent your heart racing, but you had already decided you were going to play it cool. You had to. That was what had gotten you here. It wasn't part of the plan to start acting like the schoolgirl you were almost expected to be. You leaned back onto your hands again with a small smile, legs unraveling from around his waist to fall open entirely. Let him admire his work , you thought as he broke your staring contest. You watched his gaze travel from your mouth to your chest, all the way down to right in between your legs. He spent long enough looking that you had to look away yourself, twisting around to locate your discarded shirt and slide it back on.
“Here, let me help you with that,” you heard from over your shoulder just before his arm extended past you to reach for your shirt. When you turned back, you were nearly chest to chest with him again and blinked in surprise. After a few seconds of nothing, a stalemate between his lack of movement to return your clothes and your inability to make any sounds come from your mouth, he quirked an eyebrow. “I said , let me help you. Arms up, sweetheart.” His voice came out lower than you’d expected, stirring something inside your chest and your stomach with how smooth it was. You were given no choice but to obey.
You lifted your hands over your head and waited for him to slide your shirt back on for you. It was slow, the seconds between giving in and having your clothes back where they belong seemed like molasses. He took his time in smoothing it back out, letting his hands glide over your tits and down your flank until he reached your hips. Patrick took another moment to inventory your appearance before nodding and murmuring praise. “There, perfect again. No one would ever know what a pretty mess you were just now.”
“Thank you, sir.” It sounded nothing like when you’d said it earlier. No longer was it sultry and enticing, it was careful. Timid, almost, like you were worried it’d be too much now that it was over. You felt like you were on thin ice. Whether that was of your own doing or not, you honestly couldn't tell.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” His smile was softer than you’d remembered it being. It was like a punch to the gut. When had things changed so drastically? All the fiery bits had dimmed from the two of you, crackling now into something you were a little heartbroken that you’d likely never get to kindle. “Let me get you cleaned up before we leave.” Right. You were still covered in his cum. Before he got the chance to reach for anything, you shook your head.
“It's okay, you can leave it.” Wiping it up wasn't going to make you feel clean. You would need a shower for that. Not to mention that you'd already gotten most of it earlier on your own. It wasn't going to make a difference whether or not he pulled out the Kleenex at this point.
“Your panties are going to be a mess if I leave it,” he pointed out. You could have scoffed. Leave it to him to be concerned about the state of the underwear he’d helped make a mess of in the first place.
“They’re ruined anyway, I soaked through them before you even got them off.” You blushed and pulled your leg up, heel planted onto the desk so you could slide the forgotten garment off. “And anyway, these are for you. I planned on leaving them in your care.” Carefully, you folded them into a smaller shape and stuck them in the pocket of the dress pants he’d managed to zip back up while you weren't looking.
“You know you c-” He started, but you cut him off.
“I know, I can't tell anyone about this. You could lose your job and I could lose my spot in the program.” You had to beat him to the punch. You didn't want to hear him say it. It would've been too much to hear him tell you this was a one time thing that could never be mentioned again. Better to end it on your terms, right?
“I was going to say,” he continued, leveling you with a stern look that said he was thoroughly unimpressed with you. “That you could get in trouble if someone caught you walking around campus without panties in that little skirt you have on. I’d think it’d be considered public indecency.”
“Oh.” You felt appropriately scolded, eyes focused on the floor while you let it sink in. You were jumping the gun, it seemed. A deep breath in and you were looking back at him. “My car isn't parked far from here, I’m just going to skip my next class. They don't count attendance toward the final grade and my marks are fine.”
He looked displeased with that answer. “As your professor, I can't condone you not attending classes.”
“You’re not my real professor, Patrick,” you reminded him. Using his first name outside of foreplay felt strange, the syllables heavy against your tongue as you said them. “You're the interim professor and you'll only be here for another couple months. And this class isn't even in your department. No one cares if I skip.”
“Fine, I’m not your real professor. But I am a professor, and I still can't condone you skipping.” He looked you over before stepping back toward the desk, one large hand settling on your thigh. “Are you sure you're able to make it home safely?” His thumb ran back and forth over your skin, leaving a small trail of goosebumps in its wake. “I don't want anything happening to you.”
The concern made you smile, dropping your leg again so it was hanging off the edge of the desk. “I'm sure. I don't live that far from campus. I’m just going to go home and shower and…” How could you say you were going to keep replaying the moment he first slid into you over and over without sounding obsessive? Based on the look in his eye, he already knew what you were thinking. “I'll be fine, but thank you for being worried about it.”
You moved to stand up, pushing yourself off the desk for a little added propulsion to land back on your feet. Patrick’s hands were on your waist before you even had the chance to falter and try to steady yourself. There he was, unfurling your skirt and making sure it laid nicely once again. Shouldn't he have been done taking care of you now? By all accounts, he should've been shoving you out of his office as fast as humanly possible. It seemed like he was closer to offering you a warm robe and a cup of tea than to throwing you out on your ass, and it was making you bristle with uncertainty.
He squeezed your sides tenderly. “Just be careful, alright? I wouldn't want anything to happen to you.” You were relieved that his hands were closer to your hips than your chest or he would've felt the way your heart stuttered at that. There was no reason for him to say that so gently, and there was no reason for you to like it so much. You weren’t ready to unpack that yet, or maybe ever. All you could do was nod back at him.
“I’ll be careful. Wouldn't want you to have to go on without your best student,” you joked, putting a hand on his chest for a moment before pulling away. “I’ll see you next week?” At least you'd have a few days to clear your head before your next class with him. You weren't sure what you'd do if you saw him again tomorrow. You gave him a smile before turning and heading for the door.
“Looking forward to it, sweetheart.”