Not gonna lie but,,, I’ve been writing this fic since December 2019 dhfjls oops but it’s done!!! This is the brainchild of me and @babyyatusabes and we actually plotted out an entire storyline for it (which I will write). Also how we became friend so this au has special place in my heart
Summary: You both swore never again, but temptation seeps into the mind
Warnings: Professor/Student affair (reader is over 18), age gap (12 years), unprotected sex (be safe irl please), sex in a semi-public place, rough sex, oral (male and female receiving)
Falling into temptation rarely occurs only once, but you were determined to not fall again. That night should have never happened, no matter how much you enjoyed it and how good it felt. You can still feel the way his hands glided over your skin, electricity spreading from his fingertips causing sensations of pleasure none of the very few lovers you’ve had had ever given you. It seeped into your thoughts and dreams, ignoring your wish to keep that one night a purely physical thing, like vines overtaking manmade structures.
Science, a subject you never exceeded in, no matter if it was biology or physics. Your interests and talents lied with social sciences; international relations, linguistics, history, law. So when you had to pick a science class to satisfy the credits you needed to graduate, you were not looking forward to taking said class. You picked chemistry as your best friend, Hailey, a science major, was taking it and promised to help you. In return, you were going to help her with the world history class she had to take.
The moment Dr. Christopher Vélez walked into the classroom on that Tuesday, no one inside thought he was the professor. Young, wide grin, rolled up button down exposing a collection of tattoos; no ordinary professor is he. It’s not until he puts his bag down on the desk in the front and introduced himself that it’s revealed he’s the teacher; unbeknownst to everyone sitting in the classroom that his and your lives have just been shifted towards each other. Whether for the better or for the worse, that’s yet to be seen.
“Good afternoon. I’m Dr. Vélez and over this semester, I’ll be teaching you chemistry.”
His voice, accented with Spanish, simultaneously flowed and cut through the air. It delves into your mind and since that day, his voice sends the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy. Not helping was his willingness to help his students, especially as he noticed you struggled with the subject. He genuinely cared, filled with humor and charisma. It’s not long before you started to want him, unable to deny his attractiveness.
Just as he infected your mind, you slipped into his, the softness of your smile and voice during class introductions reminding him of the way he felt when he crushed on girls back in high school. He shook the feeling. He’s your professor; he simply pushed the thought away. However, it didn’t go away. It persisted and grew as you and him started to hold conversations, started after he asked to speak to you after observing how much trouble you have with his class. He keeps it professional; but would be lying if he said his thoughts didn’t wonder to what your skin would feel under his palm.
You both work on pushing down the emotions and physical attraction, aware of the university’s policy of professor/undergrad relationships. A tension rises in this, at first of unnamed sentiments, later realized as sexual tension after a particularly steamy dream you had involving your professor.
Six weeks into the semester, there’s a break in the tension.
At the end of the lecture, you stayed back, your brain not filtering that day’s chapter. He’s not surprised to see you sticking around after the other undergrads left and stepping into his office, having recognized the confusion in your face as he talked about atomic structures and isotopes. He’s right in that, you were confused, but what he didn’t know was your inability to pay attention didn’t just lie in how you couldn’t retain the subject. Instead, the idea of him and the way his hands must feel on your skin took up most of your attention span.
“Professor Vélez, today’s lecture…” You started, walking up to his desk, shyness growing as his gaze fell on you. His eyes, some of the roundest brown eyes you’ve ever seen, occupying both softness and firmness, the difference being just a change of expression, though always unreadable, made your breath catch in your throat.
Christopher placed his hands flat on the wooden surface, resisting the urge to trail his eyes down your figure. The sundress you wore, daisies scattered on the fabric, only advised him to fall into temptation. He kept his gaze on your face instead, only marginally better in helping until he saw the flush rising on your cheeks. He’s making you blush and your innocence has his mind turning to places he shouldn’t be going.
You cleared your throat, beginning again. “Professor, why are some isotopes more stable and other unstable?”
“Well, it’s all about their atomic structure and how many neutrons they have…” He goes into the explanation, giving you time to ask questions between pauses.
Slowly, with every sentence, you find yourself taking a step closer. His cologne swirled in the air, beckoning you to lean over the wooden desk. That part of your mind full of sin that rarely ever open up yanks the door open, a flush spreading through your skin. “I see… Thank you, professor Vélez.”
“Anytime. If you have any more questions, drop on by or send me an email.” Unknown to you, you’re giving a view of your cleavage that has his thoughts spiraling.
He forces his eyes back up to your face, only to have your lips distract him. You’re wearing lipstick today, a warm pink that complemented your skin. A fleeting thought about what your lips would feel against his has him completely gone from the moment until he hears your voice, like a lighthouse calling a ship lost in sea.
“-ssor Vélez? Professor?”
“Ah, yes?” He turns towards you, arms folded.
You take another step closer, now behind his desk and directly in front of him. “Are you okay? You spaced out.”
He nods, fingers fidgeting with his folded sleeves. “Yes, just remembered something.”
It strikes you then how compared to you, he towers over you. Your eyes follow the line of his shoulder, ending with his hands. The very hands that frequented your dreams and did the most unholy and sinful things to your body, causing you to wake up with an ache that your own hand can’t fix. You remember your best friend’s advice, how if you want something, you need to go for it. In this very moment, you want to kiss him. So you do.
You lean up and place your hands on his shoulders, pressing your lips against his. You have no regard for the fact anyone could walk in or that you were kissing your professor, you just wanted this. It’s unusual for you to be so bold, not able to remember a time when you initiated a kiss.
The shock has him frozen for a moment, arms falling to his sides and staying there. Christopher never imagined you’d do this, but he’s not upset you did. The kiss is soft, sweet, innocent, very different to the kiss he’d give. He does, however, hesitate in returning the kiss, acutely aware that he’s a professor, you’re an undergrad, and this is strictly against the university’s policy. Doesn’t change how much he wants more than a kiss.
His hesitance makes your heart drop, not receiving a response, not even to push you off him. You pull away, turning your head to face the wall to your right, a different heat rising to your cheeks.
“I… I’m sorry, professor Vélez. I shouldn’t have done that.” You say, voice small and crushed under your embarrassment, arms by your side. You wanted the tile under you swallow you whole. Of course, you should have your professor wouldn’t kiss you back. What did you think would be the outcome of this?
He shakes his head, the temptation to do what he wavered to do just now taking over. He grips you by the chin, pulling your head to face him. His eyes met yours, a tabooed desire swirling in their warm brown depths. You kissed him, therefore there’s no consequences other than awkwardness and embarrassment. They can move on, forget as best they can, and let the want of each other they shouldn’t have fade away.
And he’s about to let that be the narrative of this moment, to avoid unnecessary complication for you and him. But then he sees the same desire in your eyes, yet much more innocent than his, how your lips are ever so slightly parted, painted in that pretty pink color, and your daisy printed dress clinging to your figure, temptation whispering to him to place those daisies on the floor. Rationally, he should leave it as is, but he doesn’t –he can’t— pulling you in and returning the kiss he really shouldn’t be returning, hands griping your waist.
It knocks your breath away, not only in the fact that your professor has locked lips with you, but in the passion and intensity he’s pouring into it, almost overwhelming you. His lips pulled yours into a dance you could barely keep up with, completely losing that as he introduces his tongue into the routine. Your hands rise back to his shoulders, gripping his shirt between your fingers. It’s more than you could have ever imagined and with these few seconds you’re now hooked on the feel of his lips against yours, the back of your head taunting you on how this would be the last time you will get to experience this.
It’s not until your lungs start to burn that it ends, Chris reluctantly pulling away from you. There’s a thick silence hanging in the atmosphere, an air of disbelief floating in it. Him, that fell into the temptation of kissing you. You, that he even kissed you.
You look at him with bewilderment in your eyes and it drives him crazy that he’s drawn such an expression from you. It spins in his head and for a brief moment, he started to imagine what expressions he’d be able to entice from you while you’re under him. He pushes the thought away, sex being so much graver than kissing. He’d get a slap on the wrist for this just now if found out compared to ruining his career and your life.
“You didn’t have to… do that.” You let go of his shirt, smoothing out the lines you caused. To you, he kissed you like that because he felt pity over your crush on your professor, offering this as a way to fulfill the fantasy without hurting your feelings. “You could’ve just pushed me away.”
He releases his hold of your waist, glancing at the time on his watch. “No, I couldn’t have just pushed you away.”
You take in his words, trying to find the meaning behind them. “Professor…”
“But it’s as far as we can go.”
You nod, understanding that whatever physical desire exists between you and him can’t go further than a kiss. “Of course.”
With that, you and him put it the matter to rest. Whatever tension was there dissipated with that kiss.
In that week, you both manage to continue without your minds wondering to the other in less than professional ways. Then he pops into your mind once more, craving to feel his lips on you once more. The desire grows, imagining more than just a kiss on the lips, to the point that you need your hand to calm down the heat.
Half way through the semester, a mere two weeks after that kiss, you and him find yourselves deeper down the rabbit hole of temptation.
It’s one of the rare Saturday nights where your friends convinced you to go out with them. You knew you’d see other students at the bar, but you never thought you’d see professor Vélez sitting at the bar, glass of whiskey in his hand. He’s not in a suit, instead wearing a t-shirt that showed off his tattoos and jeans. He didn’t look like a professor and it just made the want you have for him bubble up to the surface.
When he turned around, he wasn’t expecting you, much less you in an outfit that made him almost choke on his whiskey. “I-… Christopher. We’re not on campus.”
“Christopher.” His name rolled off your tongue and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel good. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”
That’s the domino that starts it; leading to a conversation, that leads to a kiss, and that leads to him fucking you in the living room of your shared apartment. You’re both very aware that you shouldn’t be doing this, but the way his hands feel on your skin and the way you move in response to his touch throws any rational willpower out the window. You’re both feeding the sexual attraction neither of you should have, the temptation too great to avoid.
The high of each other drops as it ends, the reality of what you did and possible repercussions dragging the euphoria to the floor. He gets dressed in silence, knowing he can’t stay longer than he already has, especially as your two other roommates could walk in any minute. You just slipped your shirt back on, not bothering with the skirt he threw across the room.
He stands at the doorway, gripping the door handle. “Before I go… You didn’t feel pressured to do this, right?”
“No. I wanted this.” You reassure him. “I wanted you.”
There’s a tension rising once again between you and him, but no more walls to block either of you from resisting the urge to break the tension. You pull him into one last kiss, a farewell to his touch knowing it can’t happen again ever again.
Christopher’s hands find your hips, pressing you flush against him. It’s all clashing tongues and dancing lips, stopped by the physical limitations of your lungs. You go back in for some pecks and he indulges you, but until he knows he’s at his limit of holding back to pin you back on the couch once more.
“I won’t say anything.” You say when you pull away, lips flushed and a little swollen.
“This can’t happen again.” He turns the doorknob, opening the door.
Nodding, you watch him step out. “I know.”
Three weeks pass, the awkwardness between you and him rising with each passing day. No more do you stay after the lecture has ended to ask questions, instead relying on your best friend. Only four weeks left for the semester and thus his class. However, it does mean that finals is approaching and his subject is not your best and you inability to focus on the lecture, you find yourself staying back once more.
As the others in your class left, you swallowed the lump of nerves in your throat to approach him in his office. You don’t regret sleeping with him, not at all, that one night having been one of the best, if not the best, you’ve ever had. It’s nothing illegal, only frowned upon due to his position and the age difference. The looming threat of ruining both your lives from an affair the product of an unexpected lust that refused to die down is the real source of the awkwardness.
Christopher looks up from his desk and stands, almost cursing the moment he does seeing you dressed in a similar sundress like that day he kissed you. There’s no daises this time; only solid red and it drove him insane seeing you in that color. “Yes?”
“I won’t lie, today’s lesson completely went over my head.” You admitted, looking down at your sandals. Though, you did hide the fact you we’re even paying attention to his lecture, mind elsewhere.
“All of it? Or some parts?”
You want to tell him only some of the lecture today confused you, but in reality, everything did. “All of it.”
He nods. “And the lecture before this one?”
“I actually got that one.” You can thank your friend for this one.
“Good. Today is just an expansion on the lecture before it.” He dared to let his eyes trail down the curve of your neck, stopping just below your collarbones. “Which you would have gotten if you were paying attention.”
You looked at him with wide eyes, cheeks flushing as what you were so distracted by seeps back into your mind. It’s that night again, his hands are on your skin leaving fire wherever they touch, his lips seem to be all over your skin and you can’t get enough of him. You shake your head of the memory. “I was paying attention…”
Chris rolls up his sleeves, tattoos on display. “I saw you. You looked distracted. Is everything okay?”
The softness in those big brown eyes he looked at you with directly contracted the looks he gave that night, the memories once more entering your head.
“Nena…” His lips dragged down your neck, peppering open mouthed kisses wherever he deemed necessary, which to him was everywhere.
You watch with anticipation as he travel down your body, savoring every inch of skin he passed. When he reached your lower navel, you hesitated. You’ve only been eaten out barely a handful of time, never having really enjoyed it due to lack of skill or patience by whoever you were with. “Chris…”
He flicks his eyes up, meeting yours with a gaze so potent and filled with lust chills ran down your spine; turning into lightning for your lower half and making you lose your words for some seconds.
“Can I taste you? I promise it’ll feel good, nena.” He knows you’re inexperienced when it comes to receiving pleasure, yet the opposite when it comes to giving it by the way you sucked his cock with relative ease earlier. He wants to show you the pleasure you should get, how when someone knows what they’re doing and takes the time to do it right, stars can fill your eyes, even if it can only be this one time. Why not make this one-time taboo a hell of a night to remember?
Those words of his, voice low and husky, has your insides twisting. You want it. You want him. “Yes.”
Christopher continues his way down, hands gripping your thighs and spreading your legs, exposing more of you to him. He takes a moment to admire your body before he starts to devour you in the gentlest way possible. Kitten licks on your sensitive bud, slowly working you up before carefully wrapping his lips around it, sucking and tracing different shapes and patterns on your clit.
Your head sinks into the plush of the couch, mouth agape, one hand gripping the couch cushion, the other tugging on his hair. He promised it’d feel good and as far as you’re concerned, he broke his promise. It feels amazing, not simply good.
“-you okay?” His word brought you back to the present. “Are you okay?”
You don’t know what to do with the heat building in your body, cheeks reddening and an ache growing between your legs. You want him again, but you shouldn’t and you know it. “Yeah, I just remember I have a paper due next week.”
He’s only had you once but he recognizes that look you’re giving him and the way you’re switching your weight from one foot to the other from that night. “A paper? What class?”
“English literature.” You regret it the moment it left your mouth. You took that class freshman year. You’re a junior. Both facts he knows.
He raises an eyebrow, arms crossed. “You shouldn’t lie to your professor or be so distracted during his lecture.”
Without any conscious thought, you both ended up walking towards each other. There’s magnetism that exists that just keeps drawing you and him together no matter the risks. Chris takes the closeness as a chance to admire you much like he did that night, traveling down the curve of your face, your neck, even daring to momentarily go past your collarbones before going back up. You’re wearing the same shade of pink lipstick from before and it starts to break down the wall he put up to push back the temptation that exists between you and him.
You open your mouth to say something, but you can’t find the words. Instead, you look at him, following the curve of his jawline, lingering on his lips. They curved at the edges, making it seem he was always smiling. It gave him a welcoming appearance despite his height, pulling anyone who got close in.
In that silence, the tension builds, growing thicker, becoming unbearable. The heat and lust and want clawed at the barriers you both put up to not let that night happen again, begging for someone to break under the pressure. You both want each other, stopped only by the risk of consequences.
Chris places a hand on your shoulder, a feather light touch. “Nena… Do you regret it?”
He doesn’t have to specify, you know what he means. “No. Do you?”
“That’s what was distracting you today, right?”
You bit your bottom lip. “Yes.”
“You need to focus in class, nena.”
“I know, but I can’t get it out of my head.” You said. “I know we agreed never again, but…”
He slides his hand up from your shoulder, taking hold of your jaw. “If you don’t want this, just say no.”
“I want this. I want you.”
Chris separates from you, walking over to his office door, hand on the lock. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured or-“
“Christopher, just kiss me already.” You said, too turned on to be anything but bold.
With a click, the door is locked and his lips are on yours, hands taking hold of your hips. It’s not soft, the breaking of the walls of temptation bringing all the pent up sexual tension. His hands don’t stay still, trailing down to dip under the hem of your dress, gripping your thighs and lifting you up onto his desk. His papers fluttered down to the floor, not that he particularly cares about those papers.
His tongue pulls yours into a heated dance, one where he took the lead and you followed. He always kisses you in a way that makes your knees weak and melt into his touch. You tug at his tie, pulling it off and tossing it to some corner of the office. Your hands start working on the buttons of his shirt, his skin hot under your fingertips. His hands pull up your dress before tugging down your panties, leaving you bare.
“Is this what you were thinking of instead of paying attention to my lecture?” He slips two fingers between your folds, smirking when he feels how wet you are. “So naughty.”
You whine, your fingers grabbing at his belt buckle. “Maybe.”
He starts working slow circles into your clit. “Maybe?”
“Yeah, maybe I was thinking about this.” You pull his belt out of the loops of his pants, now zipping them down and palming his bulge. “And how much I want it.”
“Then why don’t you show me?”
You hop off his desk, gesturing to his chair. “Take off your pants and sit.”
Chris pulls his pants off and sits in his office chair, eyes not leaving you once as you kneel in front of him. “You were thinking about sucking my cock while I was teaching?”
Your answer comes in the form of your hand slipping under the waistband of his briefs, wrapping your fingers around his shaft. You pull him out, starting the reenactment of your daydream from earlier. A daydream based off that night when you sucked him off in his car while it sat parked in the parking lot of the bar.
His fingers lace through your hair, holding it in a ponytail as you looked straight at him, running your tongue from his base to his tip, coaxing a moan from his lips. The danger and risk of the situation only adds to the pleasure you’re giving him, even though it really shouldn’t. One knock on the door would be disastrous.
“Fuck nena, just like that.” He gives your hair a tug, his other hand gripping the armrest of his chair.
You’ve only sucked him off once before, but this time around so much better. In his car, you couldn’t properly see the way his face would contort in pleasure and being able to see that now made it so much more erotic. You don’t look away from him, watching the way his lips parted when you took him into your mouth until the tip of his cock touched the back of your throat. That and the moan he let out only makes you wetter for him.
There’s no hesitation in your actions, head bobbing smoothly and evenly, tongue working his length. Your hands rest on top of his thighs, nails digging into his skin. It’s not long before you take a hand and slip it between your thighs, too riled up to not. You press your fingers against your clit, tracing circles and figure eights. You’re so wet there’s no way he doesn’t hear that you’ve started to play with yourself.
“That needy, nena?” Chris pulls himself out of your mouth. “I have something that’ll feel much better than your fingers.”
You glance at his cock, knowing that’s what he means and you’re quickly getting up from your knees. You’d love to taste him on your tongue again, but his cock fits better in your pussy. Feels so much better too. “Please. Fuck me.”
He positions you to face the desk, bent over it, standing behind you. His hands grip your hips, holding you still as he slowly pushes himself into you. His fingers dig into your skin, moaning as your heat surrounds him. After a moment of adjustment, he moves his hips, setting a fast, but steady pace.
“Fuck- Chris- Ah-“ You’re louder than you mean to be, his hand coming over to cover your mouth to muffle your moans.
“Not too loud, nena.” He removes his hand, reaching down to grip your breasts in his palm.
You turn your head, seeing him from the corner of your eye. You’d love to see him as he fucks you, knowing he makes some of the hottest faces when he moans, but having him taking you from behind feels so good you don’t mind. The clock to your right reminds you that neither of you have much time. His next class is in twenty minutes and yours is in thirty. He must have realized it too, putting his hand back on your mouth and fucking you harder, enough so that his wooden desk started to creak.
Christopher would have loved to take his time with you, especially knowing this would really be the last time he gets to touch you like this. A part of him wants to lay you on a bed and make you properly scream, not worried about volume or getting caught like you both are now. However, even if it’s on his desk and rushed, he can’t complain.
The sound of skin against skin, wood creaking, your muffled moans against his palm, his own moans muffled on your shoulder, all of it bouncing around the walls of his office, an ode to forbidden temptation. In that moment, being together feels too right, too good, neither of you caring that outside the four walls around you, it’s a taboo. You shouldn’t fuck your professor and he shouldn’t fuck his student. Not that it stops either of you.
You reach behind you and tangle your fingers through his hair, tugging on it in place of gripping the edge of the desk so tight your knuckles turned white. His name is on your tongue, though with his hand pressed against your lips, it’s all jumbled up. By the way he grins against your skin; you know he knows you’re saying his name into his palm.
He kisses up your neck, across your jaw, and after removing his hand from your mouth and turning your head to him, he kisses you hard on the lips. Your moans mix with his as your tongues do, a messy dance fueled by desperation for each other. He doesn’t want this to stop, but by the way you’re whining, you’re as close as he is to coming. The moment you both do, that’s the end of you and him. He would have liked to eat you out one more time, loving the way you pulled at his hair and pleaded for more.
“Christopher-“ You mumble his name, clenching around his cock, so close to climax you can’t keep a coherent kiss with him.
“Dale, nena.” He nips at your bottom lip, loving the sound of his name from your lips. “Dale, for me.”
You don’t need anything more, head thrown back as you cum, trembling in his arms. “Christopher!”
He’s right there with you, coming seconds later, his hips no longer able to maintain their previously steady pace. He slows, working through both your highs. “Fuck.”
For moment, you’re both still, with only the sounds of panting in the room. The reality of what’s just happened hits you then. You’ve slept with your professor who’s twelve years your senior, again, and while on campus. The trouble and scandal that could be kicked up over this is more than what you want to think about. You don’t regret it, you wanted it, wanted him, after all. Your only regret is that it can’t happen again.
Chris presses light kisses across your shoulders, pulling out of you. “We… We should get dressed, nena.”
You nod, turning around to face him. “We should.”
Neither of you move, taking one last chance to see each other bare before collecting your clothes off the floor. There’s silence as you’re getting dressed. It’s then you realize something. He came inside you, feeling his cum start to drip when you bent down to pick up your panties. In the desperation of the moment, you forgot to ask him not to so you could avoid the mess. Though you’d be lying if you said you don’t like it.
A drop of his cum runs down your thigh a bit before you collect it with your finger and lick it off. You repeat that twice more, in full view of him, eyes meeting his.
There’s something about seeing your tongue dart out of your swollen pink lips to lick his cum off your finger that’s just so naughty and dirty, he’s tempted for one last kiss. “Nena…”
You’re pressing your lips against his not even a second later, yearning for more of him. There’s no time for a second round, but there is enough for a kiss. It’s not rough like the others, but soft and sweet with a hint of sadness at the death of a something that should have never existed neither of you are going to admit to. It’s best not to dwell on such things, like how he’s going to miss seeing how you look all flushed or how you’re going to miss the way he touches you as if you’re made of precious stones.
It shouldn’t have never happened, and yet it did. Temptation can be stronger than will, a lesson life as gone over twice now. Only time can tell if either of you learned your lesson, but by the way you look at each other as you part from the kiss, the time isn’t now.
You shouldn’t say it, but you do. “My roommates won’t be here this weekend. You could… come over.”
Christopher doesn’t know what to say, but he knows what he wants and he knows what you want. “This weekend?”
“Yeah, to help me study for finals? You know chemistry isn’t my best subject.” You offer, fixing your dress so it doesn’t look like it was thrown off you. “If you can tutor me?”
“Of course. I’ll be there.”
You smile, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “See you Friday night, Chris.”
“See you then, nena.” He ties his tie as you turn and walk out his door, glancing at his watch. Just in time for his next class.
You both know it’s a bad idea, that an affair between professor and student could ruin you both, but you can’t help it. You’re drawn to each other like a ship to the ocean’s waves, with the hope you don’t sink and drown.
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