Reader

You attended UCL, you were going to get a degree in Archeology and then you were going to disappear somewhere for the rest of your life, abandoning the whole world for your own good and your own safety. You  had had to abandon your studies in Greece, you had to start from scratch in London and it took a toll on you: you didn’t want to study the same things over and over again. The only different course was the Late Egyptian Language and Texts.

Stepping into your new class, bright and early, had looked easier on paper than it did in reality. You were tired, you had stayed up all night studying for another class, it had been counterproductive since you had ended up falling asleep on your books, arms crossed under your cheek as you slept soundly for a few hours. It ended up causing more pain than anything, your back was killing you, your neck was barely able to move and your eyes were burning; you had to try your best to stay awake that day. 

You sat down, your seat was in the first few rows of chairs, you could see the blackboard very clearly, but it also meant that you couldn’t doze off in the middle on the lecture. Between your seat choice and the structure of the module, it was impossible to get distracted, if you missed even a single, little passage, you would be utterly fucked. You had a grammar book, more than one if you had to be honest, and dictionaries but it was still going to be difficult. Sometimes you wondered why you had taken that course instead of another one. 

“Good morning!” 

Your head turned around. Yeah, now you remembered why you had taken that class. 

Professor Grant was early, there was no one else in the room but you and him, you watched him walk down the steps, his hands skimming over the seats before firmly grasping his desk. He took his bag off of his shoulder, it plunked down on the hard wood with a muffled “thud”, he sighed while taking his books, papers and pens out. He was messy, even his movements were all over the place, he was uncoordinated and he had already managed to knock off a pen holder from the table. 

“Bollocks.” Steven grumbled. 

“I’ll pick it up.” You offered, you stood up from your chair and bent down. 

“You don’t- oh, thanks.” Steven grabbed the pen holder from your hands, his eyes lingered on you for a few seconds before he dropped his hand to his side. “Uhm, thanks, again.”

You stood there in silence, Professor Grant sat down behind his desk, his dark lashes seemed to almost rest on his cheekbones, which was a shame since you couldn’t get enough of his deep, warm eyes. You had never seen a more charming and stunning man before; sure, he was charming in his own, quirky way, but he was charming nonetheless. You were captivated by him, by how he carried himself, his demeanor was different sometimes but it was still captivating; Steven Grant was like a Pandora’s box, he was layered in the most delicious way ever. 

Other students started to pour into the classroom after a while, you zoned out until everyone quieted down. Professor Grant waited until the only sound in the room was the buzzing and whirring of the laptops scattered around the various seats, he seemed a little out of the loop that day, the way he gripped his books and papers, knuckles white and eyes disorientated. He licked his lower lip, his brows furrowed for a brief second before he went back to his usual self, his eyes were still unfocused but it was better than before. 

“Where were we?” He quietly asked, he skimmed through the pages of his anthology and found the dog ear he had pinned on his book. “Ah, right, yes. Can anyone tell me what we chatted about last Thursday?” 

The lesson progressed normally, Professor Grant kept on explaining a passage from a tomb’s door, pointing out how to read the various hieroglyphics present on the sheet he had given them. You tried your best to follow along, you had tried your best to stay focused but you couldn’t stop thinking about how his fingers had touched your hand, it had been brief and probably meaningless, for him at least, but you had felt the rough pad of his index brush on your thumb, causing shivers down your spine.

Classes were held on Thursdays and Mondays at 9am, more often than not, they began at 9:30, Steven was always late for some stupid reason. He slept poorly all the time, he always made sure to go to sleep no later than 10pm but for some reason, he was always tired. He had had to implement a few, yet simple, solutions to fix his sleepwalking problem, solutions that prevented him from having anyone over in his flat; having a pair of ankle restraints next to his bed wasn’t as inviting as he’d like to think. 

Steven had had to deal with a lot of issues in the last few months: he had managed to get tested and examined, he had went to countless of doctors, he had visited a multitude of different therapists, psychologists and psychiatrists, it had taken a lot of guts, it had taken a lot of time, errors and wins to finally set on a diagnosis that fit him. 

DID, dissociative identity disorder. 

It wasn’t easy to deal with it, it wasn’t easy to live with other people in his head, in his body; although it wasn’t just his body, it was Marc’s and Jake’s too. 

Steven had found it hard at first. Marc was the one that mostly came out, Jake stayed put for the majority of the time, he barely showed himself, still too discombobulated by finding out that he wasn’t alone in that body. Marc was different, he was the total opposite of Steven, he was outgoing, he was determined, driven and strong, way stronger than Steven. He was shy, quiet, he had his passions and he had his quirks, he was a little on the spectrum, too - or at least that was what his psychologist had said - and it didn’t bother him that much, he was happy and satisfied with his life. It lacked affection though, it lacked people, Steven was always alone with Marc and Jake, he hadn’t had anyone there for him in years, or more, he couldn’t really remember when his last relationship happened; he wasn’t even sure he had had one before. 

Teaching had changed Steven’s life, it had given him a purpose, a reason to wake up in the morning and get out of bed. Sometimes he didn’t remember waking up, going to class and teaching, sometimes he didn’t even know if he had worked or not that day, Marc wasn’t fond of that world and Jake preferred to mind his own business and leave the classroom to Steven, he knew nothing about Egypt, let alone reading hieroglyphics. Marc tried, and failed most of the time, which meant that when — and if — he tried to step in Steven’s shoes and teach, he would let the students work on random images he had found in one of Steven’s books. 

Today Marc was stuck in the back of his head, he was minding his business, kind of: he was providing him a much needed commentary about what was going on, about what he thought of all the students there. Which meant that Marc got stuck on you, Steven couldn’t help but blush and stutter over his words as Marc kept rambling about the skirt you were wearing, about the soft and supple skin of your thighs that could be seen from his seat. 

Look at that. She’s bent down before, we did stare at her ass, didn’t we? And we liked it. 

Marc was a menace. Steven rubbed his eyes behind his glasses, there were only fifteen minutes left and he couldn’t stop looking at your legs, at how you held the pen between your fingers, balancing it gently as you looked at the picture in front of you.

We could have her, right here and right now. 

Steven shook his head, his jaw tensed up and he started to make his way through the few chairs, picking the various translations from his students. You stopped scribbling, Steven looked down at you, your lower lip was slightly jutting out while your eyes bored into him, he grabbed your papers and lingered in front of you for a second. He skimmed through your translation, it was well done, a few mistakes and here and there but nothing that couldn’t be fixed. 

Tell her to stay after class, let me take the body, Steven. 

“No.” He muttered quietly as he made his way back to his desk, he shoved the papers in his bag and took his glasses off, yawning quietly. “You’re all free to go, see you Monday.” He forced a smile, his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose and he plunked down in his chair. 

The students started to walk out, Steven stayed behind and waited for everyone to leave, he needed to be alone for a few minutes, he needed to talk to Marc and tell him to stop interfering so much. When he was fronting, he was the one in charge, he didn’t want his suggestions, he didn’t want to hear lewd comments about you and he certainly didn’t need Marc to give him, them, a boner in the middle of a lecture because he had decided to go on a rampage about how your ass could look in their bed, your hands clutching the sheets as Steven fucked you slowly, his chest brushing on your back while his lips sucked hickeys and love bites all over your neck. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Marc! Quiet.” Steven begged, eyes focused on the screen of his phone. “She’s… it’s wrong to even think like that.”

We want her, she wants us, what’s wrong with that? Stop being a pussy. 

Steven groaned, Marc was insufferable sometimes, once he found his new little obsession it was impossible to make him focus on something else. “We’re her professor.” 

Yeah, so? She can call you Professor Grant while you’re buried inside her. Or Professor Spector if you’re too chicken shit to have sex with her. I can take your place, you don’t even have to ask. I’ll happily do it. 

“I don’t want you to take my place.” Steven murmured shyly. “She’s a good-  a good student, yeah? Just a student.” He offered. 

Just a student that’s been giving you fuck me eyes for weeks. She likes us, she finds us hot and fun and… mysterious, she might be your only shot at losing your virginity, Steven. 

“I’m- I’ve- I won’t fuck a student of mine. End of story. Plus where would we do it, huh? I can’t take her home, we got… we got Gus! And my books and your stupid, stupid collections and Jake’s mess which he never cleans. I don’t wanna traumatize Gus, he’s a bloody fish.” 

Yeah, he’s a goddamn fish, Steven. You’re just scared she’ll think you suck in bed. Which is why you should let me take over when we get there. She’ll prefer me, she looks like she needs a good pounding, not a slow and cutesy fuck. 

Steven sighed, his head thrown back as he stared at the ceiling of his classroom, his hands clutched his knees, he tried to steady himself, ground himself and not let Marc take control. If he did, he was going to find where you were, he was going to follow you, “casually” bump into you and then charm his way into your pants. He knew Marc, he knew his antics by now. 

“Yeah, it’s not gonna happen, mate.” Steven stated, a final note in his voice ended the whole conversation.

December slipped into January and January slipped into February. It was colder than usual, the winter temperatures were frigid and even the various heaters inside Professor Grant’s office weren’t enough to keep everyone warm. You found it hard to even follow the lecture, your hands were shaking and your teeth were chattering, it was torture, you couldn’t even hear what Steven was saying due to huffs and puffs that were coming out of everyone’s mouth. 

Steven didn’t mind the cold that much, he enjoyed the chill weather and the whole prospect of curling on his sofa under a rather thick blanket and read, maybe mark some papers too if he didn’t doze off after three minutes of sitting there. However, he despised the rain, especially when he was without an umbrella and he was soaked wet from head to toe, it was unbearable to hold a lesson like that. His clothes were sticking to his body, his hair was still dripping wet and his socks were sticking to the soles of his feet, causing him to wiggle his toes every two seconds to prevent them from going numb. 

Her jeans are wet. She’d be more comfortable if she could take them off, Steven. 

Perhaps Marc had a point, or perhaps Steven was so on edge, pissed off and overstimulated by how the fabric was rubbing on his skin in the wrong way, by how his hair kept on dripping drops of water down his neck and by how his shoes were squeaking whenever he took a step. It was too much. He had a change of clothes in his office, but he didn’t have the time to fix the mess he was because someone, the night before, had decided that his alarm belonged in the garbage bin. 

Ask her to stay after class.

“No, no, no, Marc for the love of god, shut up.” 

No one had seemed to hear him, everyone was too engrossed in looking at the video he had put on. He looked at the students in the first few seats, making sure that his words had gone unnoticed, he didn’t want them to ask questions, he didn’t want them to find out about his DID and about his alters. It wasn’t their place, it wasn’t their business. 

Do it, it’s ridiculous. She’s been wanting us for months, Steven. You haven’t made a single move because you’re a moron, and you’re scared of God knows what. Too scared to talk to her but not too scared to rub one out while imagining her d—

“That’s enough!” Now he was positive everyone had heard him. “T-that’s enough of the video, we’ll move onto discussing what we’ve just watched.” He stuttered out, closing his laptop and stepping closer to his desk. 

He shivered, his whole body trembled and he found himself rolling his shoulders with a quiet whimper; the sooner he got out of those clothes, the sooner he could stop being such a mess. He tried his best to focus on explaining how to pronounce certain sentences, Egyptian hieroglyphics’ semantic was difficult, they had to be guided somehow. 

Her nipples are poking through, she’s not wearing a bra. 

Steven did look, he couldn’t help it. His eyes moved down to your breasts, you were wearing a light blue jumper, it had clouds on it and yes, your nipples were poking out due to the cold. His eyes lingered there for a fraction of a second, but once he raised his eyes, you were looking at him. Steven blushed, he almost dropped his papers as you stared at him, your gaze was intense, it had a meaning behind it and he didn’t even know what you wanted in that moment. 

You, dumbass. She wants you. She just opened her legs a little, it’s a clear invitation. 

It was, even Steven could see it. It made him hard, shamelessly so. 

Do something. 

He dismissed the class, too engrossed in looking at you to even attempt to go on with semantics, pronunciations and shit like that, in that moment, it didn’t really matter. Egyptology was Steven’s whole life, he was dedicated, he was passionate, he was fixated on it, but in that moment he couldn’t care less about Thutmose III or about his sarcophagus. You stayed behind, Steven gripped the edge of his desk and leaned forward, his foot was tapping restlessly on the ground as he studied you, how you walked, how you carried yourself and how your arse looked into those jeans.

“Professor?” 

Steven dropped his bag, his eyes were wide as he looked up at you. “Y-yes?” He licked his lower lip, gripping the strap of his leather satchel. “Can I help you?” 

I’m sure you can. 

“Yes, actually. I didn’t really understand the inscription on the first picture we’ve seen? The wall one?” Steven leaned back as you talked. “I didn’t understand your translation, could you help me out with that?” 

“It’s pretty difficult, innit?” He attempted to joke about it lightly, staring at you. “Uhm, but, yes, I can help you. I’ll bring some more material on Thursday, yeah? We’ll go over it. I can’t do it now, sorry.” 

Your face dropped slightly, you nodded and took a step back. “I understand, thank you, professor.”

Fucking dumbass.

“See ya.”

Steven’s cheeks were heating up, he needed get out of those wet clothes and catch a break. 

And jerk off. Definitely jerk off. 

Changing in his office was pure and utter misery, the heater there wasn’t really working, the windows were drafty and the blinds didn’t really work either; it was a shit show, but that was what UCL provided and he couldn’t really complain. He kept thinking about your jumper, about your hard nipples and the bedroom eyes you gave him after dropping your pen from your lips down to your chest. You were gorgeous, you were hot, you were a wet dream coming true for Steven, however he couldn’t act on it, he couldn’t really pursue you. You were one of his students, after all. 

Steven decided to ignore Marc for as long as possible, he was screaming in the back of his head, he was protesting and throwing a fit about how stupid he had been. You had tried to start something, which had flown right past Steven’s head, too dumb to understand that you wanted him to bury his head between your thighs and show you a good time. 

Thursday arrived way too fast for your liking. It wasn’t raining, which was an improvement, you didn’t bother to even try to dress up, it was pretty clear that Professor Grant wasn’t reciprocating your advances. Sure, he had looked at you, he had stared for a while but then he had stepped down, he had turned you down without a blink, claiming to be too busy to go over a bloody passage that was only going to take up to twenty minutes to explain. It wasn’t like you didn’t understand it, the inscription was a basic one, it was so simple that even the worst student of that class had understood it. 

As soon as you stepped inside the classroom, you could tell that something was different. There was no one there, no other students, just Professor Grant in a pair of gray trousers, high waist ones too, and a loose white shirt, the first two buttons open. His posture was different, he was standing straight, he wasn’t slumping down on himself, shoulders curled forward and eyes unsteady; his brows were relaxed, his pupils were larger than usual and his mouth was slightly parted. Was he wearing cologne? It smelled expensive, too. 

There was something different, he looked like Steven but you weren’t that sure he was actually Steven. 

“Morning, Professor.” 

His lips twitched up in a cocky smile. “Good morning. Did you read the email I sent yesterday night?” You didn’t reply. “Guess not. Class is cancelled today.”

“I didn’t… know.” 

“You should pay more attention to your emails, then. We use them for a reason, don’t we, love?” 

There was a twang in his voice, it almost felt like he was faking his British accent. You stopped walking, a few meters between you two kept him at a distance, you didn’t know what had gotten into him that day. Sometimes he looked different, yes, but you had always blamed it on his job, maybe on all the tests he had to check and correct; on those days he didn’t talk, he just showed up with translations you had to complete and then proceeded to sit at his desk until the class was over. 

“You said you needed help with something from our last class, correct?” 

“Yeah, I figured it out, though. So I don’t need help.” A beat of silence passed. “I’ll go.”

“Or you can stay. We can go and have coffee together, my treat. The meeting I was supposed to have got rescheduled, which means I’m free. Wanna join me for breakfast?” 

You popped your lips open, you gave him a curt nod before starting to make your way out of the classroom. You were confused, that sudden change in behavior had made him bolder, or perhaps you were just overreacting and reading it wrong, perhaps he was just being polite. You looked back at him, waiting patiently for him to move, but he seemed stuck in his spot, eyes slightly unfocused and dazed, shoulders slumped and hunched forward. 

“Coming?” 

Steven looked back at you, he seemed almost scared, nervous an unsure about what had just happened. “Bugger.” He whispered under his breath, he clutched his satchel in hands and walked toward you. “Right, where- where do you wanna have breakfast?”

“Around here, maybe.” 

“I’m not familiar with the coffee shops around here. I usually drink my own coffee, yeah? I don’t like to go out that much, too busy, too much noise.” He held the door open for you. 

Fucking Marc and his stupid, stupid ideas. 

He had taken control that morning, he had sent that email but he had purposefully left you out because he was a slimy fucker. Steven hated him in that moment. He had fucked everything up for him, he had put him in a weird position and he couldn’t just drop you, he had asked you out - kind of - and he couldn’t back out now. You had already said yes, to Marc at least, and it’d look bad if he changed his mind in that moment, plus he didn’t want to waste that opportunity, it might never happen again. 

Invite her over. Invite her over and have her. Or let me have her. 

Steven grimaced and glared at his reflection in the window, Marc was smugly smiling at him, his hands in his pants pockets as he wiggled his brows. He pointedly ignored him, keeping his head down while he made his way out of the building. You were walking behind him, your hands in front of your thighs clutching your bag, you made him nervous by just standing there doing nothing, it was mental. 

“We can go to my office if you’d like, I have coffee, pastries and we can go over your translation together. Or we can settle for some mediocre coffee and a stale croissant, up to you.” Steven paled. Bollocks. Of course Marc had to slip in and fuck him over somehow. “If you want! No pressure! I can also… I can also look if we can find a coffee shop that isn’t that bad.” 

Fucking Marc and his big mouth. 

“I’d like that actually. We can go to your office.” 

You walked in silence at first, quite nervous and almost embarrassed. Then, it dissipated, you  chatted about translations, classes and life in general, Steven seemed to be as skittish as you had remembered, he wasn’t as cocky as he had seemed before, which was odd in your opinion. However, you were glad he had invited you over, it meant that perhaps, somehow, he was interested in you; maybe from a strictly academic point of view, but he was interested nonetheless. You could use it for your own advantage somehow.

Wasn’t that difficult, was it? Now we just need to set the mood and it’ll go smooth. Don’t you feel lucky, Stevie? We’re about to fuck someone after months of jacking off. Well, you are about to fuck someone after a long time, I had a lot of fun Saturday. 

Steven groaned quietly at the memories of that night. Marc had acted far too quickly and he didn’t have the time to hide behind their “wall” and let him have his privacy. He had to suffer through a long, rough night spent in a dodgy apartment in Camden Town because Marc had found someone in an even sketchier bar downtown. 

Will you let me have some fun with her if the occasion arrives? 

“No.” He grumbled. 

“Excuse me?” You asked, head tilted to the side. 

“Oh, sorry. I wasn’t talking to you, I was just thinking out loud.” He forced a smile while unlocking the door of his room. “Sorry for the mess, had a few busy days.”

You made your way into the office, you looked around the small yet cozy office, books were scattered all over the place, sheets of paper had been left on the floor or on various pieces of furniture. He was messy, that was something you had understood even in class, but there was some sort of order behind his messiness. It all made sense somehow. You dropped you bag on the floor next to the door, you were waiting for Steven to say something, but he seemed too preoccupied with shoving his mess under the carpet, literally. 

“Bit chilly in here, innit?” He offered, he headed to the coffee machine he kept near the windowsill, you followed him and stood behind him. “Why don’t you go and grab your translation, yeah? We can go over it as we have coffee.” 

Idiot. 

Marc was staring at him through his reflection on the window, he seemed pissed off, perhaps on edge too, worked up and annoyed by Steven’s antics. He had to follow his pace, he was deeply uncomfortable in that moment and Marc was only making it worse, he needed to stop being on his arse so much that he was barely able to breathe. He was into you, you were very smart and very beautiful, you were impossible to resist but Steven had morals, he had principles that he couldn’t ignore, not when it involved risking his whole career for some sex. 

It’d be mind blowing sex, kid. Not a random girl, but her. I can already imagine how she’ll look under us, you better not disappoint her. 

“Professor?” 

The more she says it, the harder you get. Can’t blame you. 

“Y-yeah? What can I do for you?” 

“I have my work here, we can go over it as you said before.” You sat down on a chair, your notebook open on the small table. “I went over it a few days ago, figured it all out, it’s alright now, but thank you for checking it, Professor Grant.” 

Enough is enough, stop pinching your thigh and do something.

“It’s my pleasure, I’m here to help you.” Steven poured the coffee in two mugs, he handed one to you and then sat next to you, his thigh brushed yours and his cock stiffened a little. “Let me see.” 

Steven sipped his coffee, it was a perfect interpretation of what they had read, he highly doubted you needed his help to begin with, you were one of his best students for a reason, he wasn’t just saying that because he wanted to fuck you senseless right on that table. He shifted in his seat, he tried to adjust himself as discreetly as possible, his nose was slightly scrunched up in discomfort; those trousers Marc had picked were starting to be too tight for him. 

“Everything alright?” 

Steven looked up from the notebook and hummed. “Yeah, yeah, you did everything right, actually. Good job, you’re such a good student.” 

“I aim to please.” 

She’s giving it to us on a silver plate, do something. 

Steven gulped, his hand gingerly touched your arm, he wasn’t sure he was doing the right thing, it felt so wrong yet so right at the same time. His grasp got firmer, he looked at you as you smiled softly, your head cocked to the side; you looked stunning, your long sleeved shirt looked so tight, it hugged you in all the right places, the deep neckline made your breasts look even plumper than usual. No bra, again. This time Steven indulged himself, he stared at how youe nipples rose up, those two pebbles looked so kissable, touchable and overall tastable. 

“That’s… that’s good. It’ll come in handy during your academic life.” 

Now you’re just being dumb on purpose. 

Marc wasn’t lying, however Steven couldn’t muster the courage to do anything more, he was too nervous and scared to fuck it all up. Your eyelids fluttered, were you blushing? Steven wasn’t sure, he could only focus on his hand on you arm and on the tent in his trousers, which was making everything pretty much impossible. He had to lean in, he had to do something to either ease the tension or make it peak, breaking it in the most delicious and satisfying way possible. 

“Are you hungry?” 

Way to go, Steven. 

“Yes, actually. I was running late so I skipped breakfast, and you mentioned pastries, right? I never turn them down.” You joked, crossing your arms in front of your chest, making Steven look up at you. 

He pushed his chair back, he shivered as he noticed that his cock wasn’t going to give up that easily, it was still hard, obscenely bulging out so that it was impossible for you to not notice it, even if Steven hurriedly turned around, hiding from you and your wandering eyes. You was hungry, probably starving since you hadn’t eaten that morning, 

Steven let me take the body.

He gritted his teeth, grimacing and pondering over what he was even supposed to do. You looked stunning in that moment, you had your hands on his bicep, steading yourself down for a moment while Steven kept on looking at you. His mouth was still full of pastries, too enamoured by the sight in front of him. You didn’t even need to do anything to be beautiful. 

Steven got up, he kept a stash of fresh pastries in his tiny cabinet. He had hung it up after a few months of working there, he needed a stash of food stored there mostly because he more often than not, he tended to skip a meal or two. He picked two of his best pastries, the chocolate covered croissants with pistachio cream inside it; he hoped you liked them as much as he did.

It looked like you did, at least somehow. He watched you eat in silence for a few seconds, his mouth refused to open and his eyes refused to move from your face, too enamoured by how delicately your fingers skimmed over the glassed croissant.  

“You got…” You reached out, your thumb dusted off some crumbles from Steven’s mouth. “Fixed it.”

He didn’t know what came over him, the pent up tension and nervousness took the best of him and he grasped your wrist, holding it tightly. He turned his head to the side, his lips parted and he deposited a kiss to the palm of your hand, lingering on your skin just to feel the warmth of your body. 

“Professor…” Just a feeble sound, a whisper that sounded like a whimper. 

“Yes?”

You leaned forward, eyes so wide that he felt swallowed whole by them, you looked scared as he felt, he was too skittish to even think about how everything could progress. But you were still there, still breathing heavily as his hand engulfed yours, fingers gripping your as tightly as humanly possible. 

“Oh god…” He let out in a whisper, his sugary breath hit you right in the face. “This is so wrong.”

You both laughed to ease off the tension. 

“Professor Grant I-”

“Just Steven, I’m Steven, with a “v”, not a “ph”. Steven.”

Say it one more time and I’ll understand if she decides to ditch your ass.

His eyes got cloudy again, you placed your other hand on his cheek, fully holding his soft face between your damp palms. He had shaved that morning, you could feel the smooth skin under your finger tips as you lightly traced his features.

Steven initiated the kiss. He put a hand on the back of your neck and clashed his lips on yours, tentative and gentle at first, then demanding and needy as he pulled you closer, closer, closer until he was kneeling between your legs, bending your head down. His hands had moved from your neck to your jaw, his strong and rough fingers held your chin as his tongue caressed yours. 

His voice breathy and low, he tugged on your top while his body engulfed yours, standing up and towering over you. “We can stop, we- we- oh gosh, I’m making a fool out of myself.” 

“Shut up and take my clothes off.” You were growing handsy, you needed to touch and taste and kiss and suck his skin as he lavished yours. “Just take me, Steven.”

Demanding and needy, he felt wanted. 

He followed your request, he took off your blouse in soft and gentle yet swift moves, his fingertips traced your shoulders, your arms and then your hands, then moving back up to your neck and leaving goosebumps behind. You arched up, chest pushing out in a silent plea for him to fully uncover your breasts, to look at them and take them in his hands and mouth. 

You craved him, badly. You stood up too, he held your face in his hands and kissed you, biting your lower lip as you pressed yourself on him, a hand on his growing erection. Those trousers, that shirt, he looked so powerful and intimidating, you didn't know where to look to begin with. 

You whimpered in his mouth once he squeezed one of your breasts, his grip so tight and firm that you trembled under him, thighs squeezed together. He kissed down your neck, his lips were burning you and you were barely able to breathe, too busy watching him roll his sleeves up. 

Steven licked his lower lip and his fingers pushed your blouse off, finally exposing your tits. 

"Oh god."

His eyes grew wider, your nipples perked up due to the cold in the room and the arousal that was running through your body, pushing firmly against your lower belly in an aching sensation. You had never been more turned on in your whole life, you could feel your panties get wet. 

"Sit here." He made some space on his desk for you, his things ended up on the floor or messily pushed together. "I want to do so many things to you."

"Do them." Your hands grabbed his belt, pulling him toward you and between your legs. 

"We don't have time." Steven almost looked pained by it, he took great pride in being a good lover, a caring lover, a pleasing one. "I wanna undress you, fully." 

You eagerly nodded, your legs spread further open and you kissed him again, massaging his now straining hard-on through his trousers. He whimpered and threw his head back, his pants filled the small office and you latched on his neck, sucking a hickey there, marking your territory. 

You ended up naked shortly after, you didn't feel exposed, you didn't feel weird as you stood in front of him, arms to your sides as you glanced back at Steven. You couldn’t wait any longer to feel him in you and around you.

He wrapped his strong arms around your middle, you could feel his erection on your thigh and it drove you mad. “I’ve been imaging this for way too long.” He let out in a breath, kissing your shoulder. “I’ve been wanting you for months.”

You chuckled, breathless and worked up. “I’ve been-”

“You’ve always sat in the front row, yeah? With your skirts and jumpers with no bra under it. You drove me mad.” He interrupted you, his hands pushing you down on his desk once more. “Fully mad, but you know that. You saw me looking at you, all the time. You teased me, you played with me and riled me up, maddening, innit?" 

His voice was huskier than you could even imagine, Steven was kissing down your chest at a fast pace, licking and sucking your nipples, pulling on them slightly. You moaned, back arched and hands shoved in his curls, you tugged on them and your pussy contracted, wetness gushed out as you panted and whined. 

He kept sucking on your breasts and he gently pushed you down on the desk, sprawling you on it with your legs fully open and your pulsating clit on full display. His fingers skimmed down your body, you threw your head back when he finally, finally, settled the pad of his index on your inner thigh. 

"Steven, please." You were growing restless under him, he was still fully clothed and his shirt brushed on your chest, stimulating you even more. "Just- please."

He had his cheek on your left thigh, he was resting his head on it while looking up at you, eyes languid and almost shining with lust and desire. You raised your hips up a little, wriggling under his intense stare, head thrown back. His tongue peeked out and he traced a wet line from your inner thigh to your pussy's outer lips. 

Steven was methodical in his everyday life, of course he was going to be like that during sex, too. 

"Shit." 

Your eyes closed in pleasure as Steven parted your lips apart, he ran his tongue between them up and down, up and down again before settling on your clit. He pressed his tongue on it and looked up at you, face almost hidden in your cunt. You raised your head and stared down at him, you were moaning - high pitched and whiny - and you were rocking your hips forward, inviting him to go further. 

Steven caved in and pushed his tongue inside you, it made you moan louder than before, your left leg locked behind his head and you trapped him there. He chuckled, the sound traveled right through you and it shook you, it made you quiver and gush out again. Steven lapped it all up, he closed his lips around your clit and sucked hard, his tongue swirled around your hard and pulsing nub. At the same time, right as he was sucking on your core, he snuck a finger inside you.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, Steven..." You moaned and withered under him, chest heaving and breath ragged. 

"Are you enjoying this?" His voice was so soft, it barely matched the vigor in his fingers. 

Steven was ready for one of Marc's usual comebacks, but everything stayed quiet in his head. Nothing, not a sound. Zero. He could only hear your moans. 

"Uh-uh." Your brain was foggy, clouded in pleasure and need. 

He eagerly returned to your pussy, his tongue circled your clit while two fingers plunged into you, he crooked them and you squealed, you tugged him closer by his hair and started to grind your dripping core on his face. He didn't miss a beat, he let you use his face to get off, his fingers slipped out and you whined. 

"Come here, come here and kiss me." Your free hand gripped his shoulder. 

"Yeah, alright, darling." 

You met him halfway, your lips were uncoordinated and your teeth were pulling and gnawing on his bottom lip. Your legs wrapped around his waist, his cock twitched when your pussy brushed over it, he stiffened under you and his head dropped down on your chest. His hair tickled you, his face was basically smushed between your tits and his hands were holding onto your arms for dear life. 

You wanted to touch his dick, you wanted to wrap your lips around his hard shaft and suck it, tasting his precum while you kissed and gently licked his tip. You wondered what it looked like, he seemed well endowed, but you still wanted to see, you wanted to feel him; you needed to feel every single bit of him on you. 

Steven kissed you again, open mouthed and filthy. His tongue rubbed on yours languidly, he tried to pull back but you held onto his hair and sucked on his tongue, making him moan. He didn't waste any time, his fingers got back into you and he started to pump them in and out slowly, then a little faster, and faster, and faster until you had your head hanging back and your eyes rolled in the back of your head. 

"I'mma... I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, oh fuck, I'm gonna cum." You felt your back arch even more, your whole body convulsed when his thumb sweetly pressed on your clit. "Oh god, Steven!" 

You tilted his head back as you came, your nails dug into his scalp and he looked at you with complete trust. He was as gone as you were and he hadn't even come. 

You kept trembling, your legs were shaking as you slumped back down on the desk. You tried to catch your breath somehow, deep breaths and soft whimpers as your clit kept on throbbing and your hips still twitched. Steven had other ideas, though. 

He dropped to his knees once more, this time his touch was far gentler than before, almost tentative and unsure of what to do. He seemed mesmerized by your pussy, he ran his fingers over your inner lips, he rubbed your wetness between his index and middle finger before looking up at you, eyes hooded and lost. 

Steven kissed your clit, then your hole, your labia and your pelvis, his tongue flattened out over your cunt, he collected your liquids and stared up at you. He kept you spread open with two of his fingers as he thoroughly licked every single drop of your cum, his nose now resting on your clit. He gently traced each fold with his tongue and then his pinkie, his breath - hot and humid - fanned over your core, making you shudder. 

"Professor?" You softly asked, your hand caressing his hair. He seemed completely out of it, engrossed in touching and tasting you. "Professor Grant?"

"Yes, darling?" His voice was thick and slurred. 

"I... I want to make you feel good, too, Professor." 

He chuckled, his head tilted upward to look straight at you, eyes cloudy and at peace. "Next time, next time." 

Your heart skipped a beat. "Yeah, we can do that on Monday."