one shots heaven

extended warning: long dialogue-heavy scenes, unseen exhibitionism (oral sex), fingering (f-receiving), mild degradation (through written words/verbal), unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise talk, usage of ’sir’, spanking

“I need at least three more coffee’s before I can even stay awake,“ your roommate, Laney, groaned next to you, slurping on the iced coffee in her hand. “God, I’m never drinking again.“ 

You knew that was a lie. It was the same every Monday morning, Laney would complain about the weekend and still do the same the following weekend. It was an endless cycle for the entirety of your university time together now, and to be honest, you didn’t know how entertaining your Mondays would be if she wasn’t there to cry over stupid boys and missing coffee. 

Laney was your polar opposite, the missing piece to yourself. She was loud and independent, someone who knew exactly what they want. She did all the things you were too scared to try and was always the first to encourage you to try it too or to tell you not to do something. Sometimes she was everything you aspired to be, and through her, you surely became what you hoped to be—more confident in your choices and what you want. 

“You’ll be fine, that iced coffee will kick your brain enough.“ you assured her. 

“I wish,“ she sighed, dramatically. “But I don’t think that’s gonna be case today. Did you forget? Dr. Colb will introduce his substitute today. I heard it’s an old student of his, and that can only mean they’re going to bore us even more.“ 

You shook your head, hiding a chuckle. It was no secret that Laney had no interest nor true liking in Dr. Colb’s extra course about classic literature. She had primarily taken the course to spend more time with you and get enough credits for her score to graduate, however, classics bored her to the bone. 

You, on the other hand, loved Dr. Colb’s course. It was much more in depth than your main classic literature course as your professor was a profound critic as much as lover of them and interacted with the class, inviting you to discuss themes and topics deeper with each other, often making you see a play or novel in another light. He was your favorite professor, and Laney knew that which was maybe the only reason why she hadn’t quit just yet.

“It’s going to be fine,“ you said, once again, as you entered the smaller building of your university where Dr. Colb’s lecture hall was located. 

A few lessons ago, he announced his wife and himself would go on their long-awaited camping adventure to spend more time together and explore the world as they had always wished to do. Meanwhile, a substitute was going to take over his course to leave no one hanging and still get their credits, and although no one knew who this mysterious substitute was, Dr. Colb had praised them highly. Hearing Laney now say that it may be a former student of his intrigued you even more. You had to be someone truly special to be praised this highly by him, there was no other way. 

Laney and you sat down at your usual seats in the small lecture hall, no sight yet of Dr. Colb or his possible substitute. 

She leaned forward to you, pulling out her stuff from her bag, which consisted mainly of food that she would secretly snack throughout and the current read. “What do you think is the substitute going to look like? Female, or male?“ 

“I don’t know,“ you replied, thinking about the question for a second, “Maybe, a female. I could imagine that.“

“No matter what, if Colb likes her, I think she’s going to be boring and prude.“ 

You glanced at her warningly, to which she only shrugged. She was not one to hold back on her opinion. As the rest of the course rushed into the hall, you nervously drummed with your pencil on your notebook. Every passing second felt like torture to you, you just wanted to know who they were, and what was all about them. You were so focused in your daydream about them, until you heard Laney snort next to you, hiding a laughter behind the current reading. 

“You’re really into it, huh,“ she said, raising a brow. 

“I’m not,“ you argued. 

Before Laney could say anything else, the voices surrounding you died down as Dr. Colb entered the hall, however, without anyone else following. You didn’t seem to be the only one who was intrigued to find out who it is, everyone kept quiet, starring at Dr. Colb who couldn’t help but notice the bizarre behavior of his class. 

Putting down his old leather briefcase, he overlooked his class, squinting his eyes. For a moment, he didn’t seem to understand until his face lightened up, a devious grin on his lips. “I didn’t think you would be this excited to see me leave, but apparently, here we are.“ 

Unsure chuckles went through the hall, no one raised their voice to reply anything else to him. Laney next to you pushed herself further down her chair, still hiding a laughter behind the book. She may truly be the only one who wasn’t seriously invested in Dr. Colb’s lectures, rather seeing all of this as a good alternative for a soap opera—especially today. 

“Going by the looks of your faces, I guess I’d rather stop this torture now, and I gladly will.“ your professor said, leaning against his table at the front, clasping his hands. “As I told you a few weeks ago, I will be taking some time off for the rest of the semester, but as I don’t want any of you to miss any credits, I’ve managed to find a substitute for me to continue my lecture with you all.“ 

Laney’s hand leaped forward, stopping yours that drummed more and more intensely on your book as the nervousness grew. She shook her head slightly, now giving you a warning look, as if she was saying, ’Stop being so silly’. It was indeed silly of you to react that way, but you couldn’t help yourself because the reality was that you hoped Dr. Colb would write you a recommendation letter by the end of the semester. To know what sort of people he was impressed by helped immensely to know if that was even a good idea in the first place. 

Dr. Colb smiled. “Without further ado, I am happy to announce to you that one of my former students, whom I have asked to step in, was willing to do so. So may I introduce you to Mr Thomas Hiddleston.“ 

He made a gesture to the door, to which everyone’s gazes flew to as the door opened up again. Your heart fluttered uncontrolled, still nervous, as a tall grown man entered the lecture hall. The sight of him struck your breath as his gaze went through the astonishing hall. He was nothing like what you would have imagined your professor’s favorite student to look like, and yet, you understood it the second you saw him. 

He was the walking definition of well sorted. He was well dressed, looking sheer effortless in those dark trousers he wore that were a shade darker than his fitted sweater. Those clothes served him right, complimenting his long, caramel brown hair that curled in his neck. His beard was nicely shaved, causing you to wander off and wonder if he had shaved with a knife or not. 

A snap right in front of your eyes pulled you out of trance. 

Glancing over to Laney, the embarrassment shot right in your cheeks, making you feel overwhelmingly hot. “Dear God,“ she chuckled quietly. 

You gulped, turning your attention back to the front where he joined Dr. Colb, exchanging a firm looking handshake. 

“Tom, why don’t you take the lead and tell my class a bit about you? Given that you’ll be teaching them.“ Dr. Colb said loudly, turning with a grin to the class. 

He blew out a laughter, flashing a bright smile as he also turned to the class. 

“Hello everyone, first and foremost, and thank you, William, for introducing me so lovely. It’s a pleasure to be here with you all.“ he said, his voice determined, as if he had trained this before. “I know he says I’ll be teaching you, but let’s be honest, I am not a teacher and while I will try to give you somewhat of an education, we will rather be discussing the readings together. I want to hear your opinions and feelings toward the readings, share them, discuss them, and I hope you will still enjoy this course with me on board.“

You didn’t know what it was, but somehow you were convinced that you would enjoyed this course even more now.

The days flew past, and it was time for Dr. Colb’s course again with the only exception that it wasn’t taught by him anymore. Unlike last Monday, you had to make your way to the lecture hall without Laney on your side as this time as she had overestimated herself a little too much over the weekend, still laying in her bed, whining about her hangover.

Given that you didn’t have to stop for Laney’s weekly coffee order, you went straight ahead and entered the building earlier than usual, seeing the doors to the hall wide-open. You stopped in fron of them, looking around for anyone else from your course, however, no one was around. Were you too late instead of early? You glanced down to your wrist, checking the time on your watch. Class was in fifteen minutes—you were on time. 

In the firm belief that you weren’t late and simply no one else was there yet, you walked in, stopping almost dead in your tracks on the stairs on the way to your usual seat. You were, in fact, not alone. At the front leaning against Dr. Colb’s old wooden desk was Mr. Hiddleston, his attention fully turned to the book he held in his hands. From afar, you could make out that it was the current course read, however, his copy looked worn, as if he had read it a thousand times. 

The sudden frown made his face look hardened, yet so incredibly interesting. You wondered on which page he was, and what it was exactly that made him frown like that. Of course, you could ask him about it, feeling somewhat sure that he would be willing to answer that, however, as soon as you had caught yourself, you moved as swiftly and silently to your seat, not wanting to be noticed by him. 

But your idea was diminished as soon as you put down your bag, the weight of it making enough noise for him to be pulled out of his reading trance, glancing straight up to you. Your mouth fell open, wanting to say something quick as apology but it was left dry and unable to form any proper words. Why did the sight of him confuse you? Seeing him was peer pressure. 

“Hello,“ he said politely, putting the book in his hands aside as he pushed himself away from the desk to come closer to you. Taking a quick look at his own watch, he looked back at you, “A bit early, aren’t you?“ 

The polite tone remained, his voice sounded so calmly yet his question felt so confronting. No professor in your lifetime had ever questioned a student being too early. The difference, however, was that Mr. Hiddleston wasn’t a teacher. At least, not really. 

Finally letting go of your bag, you straightened yourself, thinking to yourself how embarrassing this was. “Yes, I… I usually go for coffee with my friend, but she’s sick today, so that spared me some time.“ 

He may wasn’t a true professor, and still you felt awfully punished right now with the way he eyed you for a brief moment, making you almost believe that you truly had done something wrong. Right until his expression slightly softened. “Well, I hope your friend has a speedy recovery. Yet, it’s my lucky day, I was actually hoping for someone to come in early today.“ 

“Why’s that?“ you questioned, slowly feeling more at ease in this sudden situation. 

“I was hoping to get some insight on the class, like, the last novels you have read. I must admit I feel like a new student here, while I’m suppose to do the teaching. Doesn’t give it the greatest look, does it?“ 

You gulped, feeling your heartbeat stuck in your throat, breathing cut short. You were so highly aware of him that it was hard to focus on anything that wasn’t him. This felt like sort of a game, his gaze was so intense, almost challenging yet ever so collected and reserved. Your forehead ceased as you tried to read him, to get something more out of this other than the spoken words. But no chance, this man was a multi-layered mystery to you. 

“I could help with that,“ you said, out of nowhere, surprising yourself with that answer. It was already too late to take it back, so you simply added the truth. “It’s my favorite class, actually.“ 

You shut your lips together to a shy smile, sealing them more likely to stop any more stupid words from coming out. His smiled back at you. “I would appreciate that, Miss—“ 

“Y/L/N,“ you replied. “Y/N Y/L/N.“ 

He nodded, still not daring to break the eye contact. “Thank you, Miss Y/L/N.“ 

The first time after your previous conversation you were unsure what to do to get him back to your offer. A part deep down in you was so eager for him to realize that you were being serious and hoping that he would take you up on your offer. 

Mr. Hiddleston had just ended the lecture for the day as your fellow students quickly packed up their stuff. You were down to your luck that Laney had to get going too, leaving you behind in your seats. As the room emptied out and silence took over the hall, he glanced up to the seating and noticed you standing there with no intention to go. You instantly felt thrown back to that first conversation. His eyes had the same thoughtful, ever searching gaze and the lovely, ever confusing smile. 

“Miss Y/L/N,“ he had said, pushing his hands in the pockets of his dark blue jeans as he stepped closer to the seating area. “If you have the time, I’d love to come back to your offer. As you may noticed, I am not well prepared enough for this class.“ 

It became its own small lecture and slowly, it turned into a routine like getting coffee before class with Laney once had. While she set off to her swimming practice, you usually stayed behind until the entire room emptied out and sat down with Mr. Hiddleston to go over the course’s last readings, as well as your own notes that you brought along.

Whenever you sat together, he was attentive, listening to every word you said. He asked the right questions that proved his love for literature. Most often, he sat opposite to you, writing in his leather-bound notebook, while you discussed books that weren’t even on the course list. It felt like you were speaking your own language, and it grew important to you. Every meeting grew to more and a deeper importance. 

Just like on this day when he sat, once again, opposite to you on the massive wooden desk in the lecture hall. You laid down the course’s current read, your version completely notated as you had read it before, and glanced over to Mr. Hiddleston. A frown disturbed his usual friendly face as he wrote some notes with quick pace in his notebook. As if he caught you staring at him, he glanced up meeting your eyes, closing the notebook and putting it aside. 

Your eyes followed his movement, before you said, ever so casually or at least trying to sound like. “So, what do you do outside this hall, when you’re not trying to teach us something?“ 

The corners of his mouth turned upside, appearing amused. “Your usage of the word ’trying’ is truly charming.“ he said. 

You shrugged, trying to hide a big grin. “I’m only keeping you humble, Sir.“ 

His gaze flickered from your mouth, still trying not to break out into a bright smile, back to your eyes. “I’ve told you, it’s Tom outside of class.“ he reminded you, having heat instantly shot into your cheeks. He had asked to put the formality aside a week ago and you were still adjusting to calling him by his first name. It almost felt wrong not to call him properly, there was just this higher feeling of authority to him that you couldn’t quite shake. 

“I work at a theatre,“ he said. 

“So you’re an actor?“ you questioned, hoping to downplay your nervousness. 

As attentive as he was, it of course didn’t go past him. But he also was a gentleman and let it gracefully slip by. “On some days, yes.“ 

“And on the other days?“ you continued asking as you sat up in your chair, slightly adjusting your skirt in the same go. As you looked back up to him, you caught him watching you with a balled fist, seemingly distracted. 

“I write.“ he answered, short-pressed. 

“That sounds great,“ you replied, your voice hushed. 

Had he been watching you adjusting your skirt? Had he been watching you at all? Your curiosity knocked, teasingly, almost mockingly, on the door again. It had been haunting you for the last weeks, over and over again. There were these small, short moments where you did not know what they meant. Sweet nothings that you liked to interpret more into than you probably should. 

And then there was this god damned notebook he always carried around and sometimes wrote in it while you sat together, keeping you wondering what was written there. Notes on books? Notes on certain scenes, or was it his diary? There was this addictive eagerness wanting to know so much more about him, but it all felt like overstepping a very fine line. 

Losing this respectful time and space over your never-ending curiosity wasn’t in the cards. You wouldn’t let that happen, so it seemed like there was no other way but to suffocate all the noisy thoughts. 

“Will I see you next week?“ he asked, pulling you out of your trance, with a glance on the shiny watch on his wrist. 

“Yes, of course.“

Never before did a week feel like an entire century like it did right now. Time was passing by awfully slow while all you truly wanted was to see Tom again. The weekly meetings had become your favorite thing, the very one you always looked forward, the one that kept you going even through the most stressful weeks. It was peaceful, and electric at the same time, to spend time with him. 

You had tried to be patient for Monday to come around, you really did, until it was a late Friday evening and you couldn’t help yourself with the hundreds of thoughts swirling around your head. You had to see him, even if it was only for a sweet minute.

That was how you found yourself running towards the lecture hall. You knew that Tom had also taken over Dr. Colb’s beginner class that should’ve ended a few minutes ago. It was the only chance to catch hold of him until Monday morning. Quickly stepping up the stairs to the entrance of the pitched seating area, you glimpsed into the room before entering, finding it all empty. Were you already too late? 

Frustration boiled up as you came to face your silly defeat. God, what had ridden you? Obsession, foolish feelings? It was unlike you in every sense, and still, it seeded like poison in your veins. 

You walked closer the massive wooden desk as something certain fell into your view—his notebook, he left it there. Hesitatingly, your fingers brushed over the softened leather and tight cord around it, causing an itching in your fingers. All you could see was for what it stood for, an undeniable temptation that brought you once more to the fine line you shouldn’t cross. It would be an obvious breach of his privacy, yet it was so bitterly tempting. 

This wasn’t like you. Nothing that he made you do was like you, and it wasn’t even his fault. 

Against your better knowing, you picked the notebook up, unwrapped the cord around it and opened up a random page. Lines that are more than just words, you read, followed by various handpicked quotes from books—some you knew, some you didn’t. Your racing heartbeat slowed down, it was just as you had thought. He had written down his thoughts to his favorite literature. Nothing fearsome, nothing private. 

You turned the pages, finding more remarks and notations about books he had read, all thoughtfully written down like a window to his soul. This was beautiful, your hands brushed carefully over his neat handwriting, as you turned another page, eyes overflying the page until they stopped by the unmatched scribbles in-between. 

When she speaks, all I can think of is her mouth, that I cannot concentrate on what she is saying. I want to have a conversation with her, without being distracted by her sinful lips. I do not want my thoughts wandering off when my time with her is so rare, and yet I find myself longing for more than the hour we give ourselves. I find myself longing for more than just hearing words out of her mouth. How sinful would it be more to hear her pretty mouth moan? 

The cover of the notebook snapped close by a hushed movement, clutching it to your chest in the next. That wasn’t real. What you just had read wasn’t real, why would it be? You were hallucinating, there was no way— 

The pages flew open once again, fingers quickly turning the pages to the very one you had just closed, eyes skimming the page. 

I cannot allow myself to fall deeper in this rabbit hole but every time I see her, I feel helpless. Everything about her is testing me. 

You skimped further down the page, the handwriting getting messier with every other sentence. 

My patience is tested and I will prove myself to be what she expects me to be. I cannot let these thoughts slip, or else I will destroy what we have built. I will have nothing of her and I cannot live with any less than I have now. These needs fool my senses, I am aware of that, and yet I also catch myself wishing I could give in. 

With every line you read more, the tension inside you grew more. This was wrong, you shouldn’t be reading this, but much like his terror, you couldn’t stop and turned another page. 

To give in this addictive, sweet desire would be my downfall. I know I could never recover from it, so in my thoughts only, I will admit this need for her. In my thoughts only, I will know her deeper than our current superficial state. I will see her as often as I long for. I will unlock that shy smile of hers, remind her to live as freely as she desires. I will have her closer than I do now. I will hear those pathetic little moans out of her mouths. I will have her lying on this massive desk. I will give her anything she begs for.

A low breather escaped your lips as everything inside you coiled together, begging for a bittersweet release. There was no denying anymore, it laid out in front of you, obvious and brutally honest.

Steps resounded from Dr. Colb’s former office aside of the lecture hall, giving you a shriek that you almost drop the notebook to the ground. Quickly, you tied the cord around it again, putting it back where it laid. You couldn’t see him now, not after what you just had read. This was… it was all too much, all too surreal. Your feet found ground quicker than your thoughts, rushing out of the room before anyone could catch you there. 

“Are you okay?“ Laney asked you on Monday morning. “You’re so jittery, you’re making nervous, too.“

You slurped on your iced coffee, of which you thought would help you calm down, however, it rather pumped up your nervousness even more. “I’m fine,“ you said, trying to put a fake facade as you weren’t in the mood for your best friend’s questionary. “I just haven’t slept much over the weekend I think it’s catching up to me.“ 

That wasn’t even a lie. You had tossed and turned on Friday night, already having declined going out with Laney and your other friends. What you had done, specifically what you had read, weighted heavy in your chest. Not only was it a general breach of privacy, but you had invaded your professor’s most private thoughts, at least, that’s what they read like. You shouldn’t have read those, they were never for your eyes to see. 

But that wasn’t the worse thing of this situation at all, or why you laid awake all night along. It was the insane game it played with your mind. You knew one fact for sure: there was a high chance that his writing was about you. Even though doubts came up and in some moments, you believed that he was talking about someone else—he must be—you always reeled back to thinking, there can’t no other. 

Him sharing such a connection with someone else wasn’t in your accounts. Your meetings were born out of a coincidence, there couldn’t be another, or was there? 

But what ruined you most, and what had ruined your entire weekend because you couldn’t stop thinking about anything else, was how much you wanted those pages to become true. Deep, deep down, you knew you couldn’t deny the obvious truth. To have read such honest, yet filthy thoughts from him, to know that he had those, turned you on. 

It shouldn’t. He was your professor, didn’t matter if he was only the substitute or not, and you shouldn’t have such thoughts about him. But he shouldn’t either. 

As Monday morning came around, you knew you would be having to face him and to look at that wooden desk, knowing he wanted to have you—or worse, someone else—lying on there, perhaps with spread legs, willing to do anything his mind further calls him to. You had felt like throwing up, this complex and anxious excitement fully kicked your heart out of your chest. 

On Sunday night, you came to an conclusion and the only way to end this state of unknowing: you had to confront him, trigger his deepest thoughts to know if it was you he had written about. You wouldn’t confess to reading his notebook, you had to find another way, even if it meant being insanely brave and extremely stupid. 

Laney and you walked into the lecture hall, heading towards your usual seats, not daring a single glance downwards. Your plan was easy—settle down in the seat, trying not to die during the lecture, and then meet with him after class like always. Ok, if you were being honest, your plan was shit and you had no idea how to handle this situation, but not doing anything was also killing you. 

“Next time, I’ll grab another coffee for you, too.“ Laney said, pulling out her copy of the latest novel you discussed, nodding towards your already emptied cup. “You drowned that thing. You’re sure you’re ok?“ 

“Yes,“ I replied, sternly. “Now I’ll be feeling like you during this class. Completely pushed up by caffeine.“ 

She shrugged, her eyes following downward to where Mr. Hiddleston—Tom—should already be standing. “At least, you won’t be falling asleep. Honestly, it’d be a shame to fall asleep now that we have that eye candy as teacher. You were right, he’s cute.“ 

For a brief moment, you panicked. “I’ve never said he was cute.“ 

“You didn’t say it, but you were having heart eyes the first time we saw him.“ she argued, grinning. “So you were still right, I might even pay attention for once.“ 

The taste on your tongue turned bitter, hearing your best friend talking about him like that. The sudden poisonous jealously didn’t suit you well, you might had to suffocate it all. Laney just meant it casually, like she did with any other boy, she wasn’t a threat—to even think that for a second was pure insanity. This was torturous insanity and you had to end it. 

You just had to get through today’s class first. 

“Thank you guys, see to chapter twenty-four. We’ll see each other next Monday.“ Mr. Hiddleston ended the class on a high. It, or rather he, had been interesting enough to keep Laney awake for its entirety and even participate. A rare sight, unlike you had. You, instead, had been lost in thousand of thoughts, unable to look more than a few seconds into his direction as you couldn’t trust yourself to not completely lose it. 

Laney packed up her things and for a brief second, you thought about joining her this time. To get out of his way seemed like an easier option right now, but you would never know then. 

Your best friend looked back to you, waiting. “Go ahead, I have something to ask Mr. Hiddleston. I’ll meet you at lunch.“ you told her.

Nodding oblivious, she waved before leaving the hall with the others. Slowly, every seat emptied until there was no one left in the room other than Mr. Hiddleston and you, just like the last few weeks. Only then you dared to look at him for the first time today, catching him leaned against that damned desk, hands in his jeans pockets, smiling reservedly up at you. 

Now or never. 

You grabbed your things, pushing them carelessly into your bag, as you walked down the stairs. “Mr. Hiddleston,“ you breathed, the name almost getting stuck in your throat. 

He leaned his head to the side, eyeing you closely. “I’ve told you, it’s—“ 

“Tom outside class, I know.“ you said, chest heaving, “I’m not feeling my best. Can we—can we sit down in your office?“ 

His eyebrows furrowed, obvious worry written on his face. “Of course,“ he replied, gesturing you to go ahead to Dr. Colb’s old office. With every step, you doubted your intention, but there was still this fiery and desperate need to know the truth about it all. 

You stepped inside the office, putting your bag aside, while sitting down on one of the guest leather seats in front of another of Dr. Colb’s god damned wooden desk. It almost made you question if he was an antic lover or a freak. Or maybe it was just you, or the man who sat down opposite to you, who was the freak in question.

“Are you ok?“ he asked, concerned. “I’ve noticed that you weren’t able to concentrate much. You usually participate a lot more.“ 

“Yes, I’m fine,“ you quickly answered, hands balling to fists. “It’s just—there’s been a lot on my mind as of late, and I can’t quite shake it.“ 

“I’m sorry to hear that. It’s quite a shame not to hear your voice during class.“ 

Your heart sank down in your chest. He sounded so casual, as if his words weren’t a direct indicate for you. You gulped, there was so little doubt left, you had to risk it all.

“Can I admit something to you?“ you asked him, drawing your words out carefully as his face slowly lightened up. You didn’t wait for his answer to further say, “Our talks after class have become my second favorite sort of class.“ 

His eyes laid so closely on you, you could almost feel it like a touch on your skin. His mouth twitched, “I look forward to our talks, too. Our exchange has been very helpful to me.“ 

His words kickstarted something unknown, indescribable in you. With a deep breath, you pushed yourself out of the chair, not in mind to stop yourself from walking around the desk. With wary gaze, he watched every step, not interfering, not speaking a word. Halting next to his chair, you glanced down to him, saying quietly, “I’m glad to be of assistance. Can I admit something else?“ 

The air was so thick, you didn’t even dare to breathe. 

“You may,“ he answered, sternly yet daring. 

Now or never, ever, kicked back in your head. You held onto his shoulder as you swung your leg over his, softly letting yourself down on his lap, straddling him. His mouth fell open in reaction and before he could further react, you exposed it all, overthrowing all your previous plans, “I have read pages in your notebook. I read things you wrote about someone, and if any of it is about me, I beg you to tell me the truth.“ 

He didn’t push you away, he didn’t touch you either. You sat there, leaving all of him underneath you, with your arms dangling off around his shoulders. His tensed gaze was still on you, and with every passing second, you knew you’d fucked up. 

His gaze turned hard. “When did you read it?“ 

He wouldn’t tell you the truth, you’d reach that fine line and crossed it with no way of ever returning. There was nothing to lose anymore, so you answered while looking away, “Last Friday. I came to see you and you weren’t there. You had left your notebook on the desk. I am sorry, I shouldn’t have done so.“ 

Grabbing the corners of the chair, you attempted to push yourself up, away from his lap, away from him, as an arm came around your waist, holding you right where you were. Widened eyes met his still steered ones. “What did you read, specifically?“

Your mouth dried up, almost unable to form an answer. “About how much you wanted someone. What you wanted to do to them, if you’d give in.“ 

The longer this conversation went on, the more your head spun. His touch was exhilarating, how he held you firmly flushed against him, how his large hand touched your lower back. The most touch that had ever happened between you, yet you wanted so much more.

“And you’re certain that those words are about you?“ he questioned. 

Disappointment hit your already bruised ego. Another hit wouldn’t hurt that bad, this was embarrassing enough. “No,“ you whispered, “that’s what I am trying to find out.“ 

He pressed his lips together, still not losing his grip on you. Instead his hand spread out on your back traveling lower, and lower, until his hand reached your ass. “Why would they be about you?“ he continued, sounding as if he was doubting his own words. 

“It doesn’t have to be. When I read it, a part of me just wished it was.“ 

You laid it out all bare. No more going back. And then salvation turned its favor to you. His other arm brushed your waist, slowing down to your hips to pull you even closer. Brushing with your clothed cunt over the noticeable bulge in his trousers, a soft moan escaped your lips. 

“Good, because they were.“ he breathed, leaning forward closing the distance as he placed his lips onto yours, freeing you from the torturous unknown. You gasped into the kiss, grabbing his neck to hold yourself closer. It set all of you on fire, this was unlike anything in your life before. It was embarrassing how needy you were for the slightest touch, but he didn’t seem to do any better. 

You earned a deep growl in return as your tongue met his, pushing you so high to need more. Simultaneously, you moved your hips impudently against his thick feeling bulge. “Don’t,“ he warned you. 

“Please,“ it sounded pathetic out of your mouth. “I want this. I want you.“ 

One of his hands slipped underneath your ass, his other arm wrapped around your waist, suddenly lifting you up onto the wooden desk. Chills overcame your body. His mouth was still so close to yours as he said in a hushed tone, “Don’t say such things.“

Your body clearly signaled how much you wanted this, the wetness in-between your thighs was undeniable. Your heart was screaming for more. Despite the moral fact that you shouldn’t be or wanted to be touched like that by your professor, every sight you controlled was bright green. “But I mean it.“ you answered firmly. “Don’t you want this, too?“

There was only millimeters in-between your mouths. “You’ve read how much I want this.“ he stated. “But that doesn’t mean we should.“ 

His moral compass was much stronger than yours. Unlike him, you didn’t care about whether this was morally right or wrong, you’d overstepped that line already. For you, there was no going back. If he turned you away now, you doubted that you could ever sit in his class again without feeling ashamed or remorseful.

You leaned slightly backwards, still against his tight embrace, and pulled his hand, that was still placed on your ass, to your breasts. Caressing them softly, you slowly dragged his hand down your body, letting him feel every inch of you until you reached the pulled up hem of your dress. Pushing his hand even further down your thigh, his fingertips brushed over the wet silky material of your panties. 

“You wrote you’ll give me anything I’ll beg for.“ you said. “So will you touch me if I beg?“ 

This was his fine line, you could see it in his face and hoped he wasn’t strong enough to resist crossing it. You had to decide for yourself to throw morals and any right or wrongs overboard, and if he wanted you, too, then he had to decide the same for himself.

The stilled touch of his hand on your sweet spot drove you crazy. “What exactly do you want?“ he questioned.

You dove closer to his lips, longing to feel them on yours again. “I want you to kiss me. To touch me,“ you pressed your hand against his, “right here. Please.“

The beg slipped so easily over your lips, you were hopelessly gone for him. This had turned into a fantasy since last Friday that haunted you, and now you were so close to turn it into reality. To have what he had written in his notebook, if he was willing to give you what you plead for. In return, that pretty little mouth of yours would moan as freely as he wished for.

You could feel his hot breath on your skin, and then you were sure, the line was crossed. He was a goner, too, and it made you feel so mighty. His head moved forward, connecting your lips together again, as if it was inevitable. Soft whimpers, sloppy and eager kisses mixed with each other, filling the silence in the office. His long, slender fingers tucked on your skimpy panty, pushing it aside, grazing your slicked cunt. Your hips bucked at the sudden touch, you hummed in willingness into the kiss. 

One finger held aside your panty as the other spread the wetness across your slit, crossing your clit dreadfully slow. “So needy,“ he mumbled, and with sudden, the arm around your waist pulled you forward to the edge of the wooden desk. “So godforsaken wet.“ 

His thumb brushed, once more, over your clit, locking a moan out of your mouth. His mouth twitched upwards in response, obviously likening your reaction to his touch. Tenderly, he let his thumb circle on your clit as two fingers briefly dipped into your cunt, dragging the wetness over your front. “Do you want me to touch you like this?“ 

You nodded repeatedly, lips pressed together. The soft touches were already turning you into a squirming mess, feeling on fire all over your body. “Use words,“ he ordered you, “or else I won’t touch you.“ 

“Yes, touch me. Please.“ 

“As you wish,“ he whispered back, two fingers pushing into your drenched entrance with ease, curling upwards in an instant. You gasped against his mouth, foreheads pressed against each other’s as your entire body bucked forward. Curled against your upper wall, he stroked just the right spot. 

“Oh god, yes, yes“ you panted, throwing your head back as his thumb flicked your clit up and downwards, his other two fingers curved slowly but firmly against your softest spot. The office filled with wet noises of your cunts clenching around his fingers, pumping in, and out, in, and out. You’d never felt this, never such an intensity. You wanted to come so bad. For him, because of him. 

Your legs shook, with every stroke of his fingers you neared your high. “Will you come for me, darling?“ Tom asked, as if he didn’t set your lower half on fire with every further touch. Your heart rate stammered, but you nodded bravely, almost fearing your undeniable incoming orgasm. “Then, let loose, darling, give me your all.“ 

It took one more firm stroke over your g-spot that turned it into explosion. You cried out his name, walls clenched around his fingers, as pleasure rippled through your body. His eyes watched you intensively in wonder, still holding you tight with one arm as you calmed down from the overwhelming waves of your orgasm. Pulling out his fingers, your cunt clenched around nothingness, wishing the fulness back. 

Your eyes fluttered open, seeing how he brought his slicked fingers to his mouth. “So sweet,“ he hummed, “just like I imagined.“ 

His eyes peeked up from the pages of the book, skipped a few rows of students sitting in front of him, glancing to the utter entrance where the door fell almost silently close. Telling like a sixth sense he knew where to look, knowing deep in his bones who had just entered his Friday beginner class. 

The searching, almost desperate gaze in his eyes softened as soon as they met yours from afar. Straightening your posture, you stood confidently in the corner, watching him intensely. He couldn’t help to stop the smile creeping up on his lips as he closed the book, further smiling to the up glancing eyes of a couple dozen students. 

“Let that be it for today’s class. Please finish up chapter thirteen by next week, we’ll go into deep analysis of the character’s relationship then. Have a good weekend, everyone.“ he announced to the class, without leaving you out of sight. 

His words echoed through the hall, the bodies of the students sacking slightly together in relief. The said few dozen of students packed up their things, stuffing the current read carelessly in their bags, and leaved in a hurried rush. Anyone sane would hurry out of a 5 P.M. literature class on a Friday afternoon and enjoy the incoming weekend as quickly as possible—anyone but you. 

The hall filled with mumbled, yet loud discussions about where to party next. The students passed by you, not betting a glance, until the last one rushed out of the hall and only he and you remained glued to where you were standing before. Only as the door slammed shut once again, you took a step forward, eyes still on him, while your hand hovered above the metal lock of the massive door. 

“Do you want me to turn the lock?“ 

The question weighted so heavy, as if the sky suddenly clouded up. He laid down the book on the wooden table, crossing his arms across his chest as he lifted his chin, almost in a provocative sense, “Will that be necessary?“ 

You gulped, ignoring the stumble of your heartbeat, hammering against your ribcage. “You tell me.“ 

There was this thrill that had been haunting you since you had left his office this past Monday. Both breathless, both aware of what had just happened and equally unable to truly understand. His hands had straightened the hem of your dress that he had pushed up minutes ago, yet his hands hadn’t moved away from your thigh. Once more, your face had been so close to give in to the sweetness of his lips again, but your heart was on the edge of exploding, beating so viciously out of control. 

“I must go,“ you had told him and pushed yourself of the wooden desk he had positioned you on. Before you left his office, you held in on the doorstep, glancing back to him, “Just so you know, I don’t regret any of this. If anything, I just want more.“ 

He hadn’t said anything back then, and now looking at him, you weren’t sure if he had felt the same. 

“No,“ it felt like a slap in the face. He broke the eye contact, glancing down to the floor as he continued, “Just come down here, please.“ 

As if the thrill had been nothing more than a candle light, it was blown out. This was not what you had been hoping for on your way here. The past few days equaled torture. You had come to confront him, earned your desired outcome, and had left the scene so rushed without knowing how he had left about it. You had told him before leaving that you felt no regret, which was still the case, but what about him? Did he regret the way how he let you closer to him? Did he regret the way you had kissed, the way how he had touched you, the way he had allowed your entire being to long for him? 

Every step down the pitched floors, you feared the possible incoming rejection. He first brought himself to look at you again as you had reached him, keeping some distance between the two of you. To anyone disturbing the scene, it would appear like a normal conversation between a professor and their student, even though you knew it was going to be far from it. And maybe from afar, he wouldn’t hear your little pathetic heart breaking. 

“It’s good to see you,“ he breathed, studying you closely, yet not daring to close the distance. “Are you well?“ 

“Yes,“ you replied, almost instantly, your voice breaking off by the end, “Why wouldn’t I be?“ 

A huffed chuckle left his mouth. “I’m glad to hear that,“ he said, “but that’s not what I meant. I am asking if you are still well after what has happened on Monday.“ 

A million different questions ran through your head. Tom was a clever man, he chose his words wisely, so what was he trying to achieve? To convince you that it all had been a foolish mistake?

“Yes,“ you answered once more, this time firmer. “Like I’ve told you on Monday, I didn’t regret it. And I still don’t.“

He inhaled, closing his eyes for a moment. Apparently, he had hoped for a different answer. Before he could even open his mouth to argue, you beat him to it, “Do not try to tell me otherwise.“ 

The way he looked at you was belittling and that hurt even more than any words he could say to you. From your very first conversation, he had made you feel like an equal to him. There had never been a moment where you had felt less than him, until now. 

Now he was trying to paint you as naive. Like a child. 

“I am not trying to tell you otherwise, believe me.“ he stated as he glided a step closer to you, yet withheld himself from getting too close. “But have you ever truly given this a thought? That this isn’t supposed to be.“ 

All you knew in this moment was that you could either stand your ground or else this was nothing more than a losing game. There was nothing he could say to convince you differently. You wouldn’t let him turn this into something it clearly wasn’t. Whatever there was between you was genuine, it was pure and right. It was perhaps meant to happen. 

“It is not illegal—“

“I am your professor, Y/N, and you’re my student, for God’s sake. Illegal or not, this shouldn’t be, we shouldn’t be doing this.“ he immediately cut you off. 

“You’re not my professor, Dr. Colb is. You’re just you.“ you argued, your voice slipping into something more desperate, more pleading. “And I am me, I choose this.“ 

He straightened his back, his posture turned rigid. “I think this is clouding your incredibly clever mind, because if this was any different, you wouldn’t choose this.“ 

“But it isn’t,“ you hissed, overstepping in another literal sense once more a line, as your hands flew out to his shirt, pulling him dangerously close to you. Another desperate attempt to keep him from slipping away. “This is about you and me, about the choice we willingly, freely make. Or—“

Sudden tears pooled in the corners of your eyes before you fulfilled your sentence, “Or do you want me gone? Is that what this is about? You regret it, you regret me, and now you want me gone.“ 

As soon as you said those words out loud, you saw his off-brushing facade weakened. You felt him soften against your touch, all of it causing so hope that the fall might be too high. His hands, however, shot up, grasping your face in equal desperate longing. “No,“ he whispered, “I don’t regret you. I don’t regret any of this, either, and that is what scares me.“ 

You leaned into his hands, shaking your head, “Then stop trying to push me away. I know how risky this may be, but if you want me, have me.“ 

His lips came crashing down to yours in one swift motion, as he gave into the bittersweet desire. Humming out a moan, his tongue slipped into your mouth, meeting yours. You held onto his button-on, leaning fully against him as his hands wandered from your face down the sides of your body. Not only you were filled with eager desperation for more, he was too. Every touch, every kiss was begging for more. His fingers dig into the sides of your waist, just before he held you tight and lifted you up from the ground onto the desk. 

The very desk standing in the focal point of the lecture hall, with an unlocked door. 

His large hands slid down your waist to your upper thighs, hugging them with his grasp, driving you near the edge of insanity. “More,“ you begged in-between kisses, seeing his eyes spark hearing those words as his face hovered above yours. He had asked you to use words for what you want, you saw what it did to him. What power you could wield, just by asking for all the unruly things you fantasized about. 

Looking him right into the eyes, you whispered against his lips, “Strip me right here, on this desk.“ 

“Is that really what you want?“ 

Your gaze didn’t stray away from his, instead you nodded with an almost devilish grin. “Make me beg for even more.“ 

Within seconds, you felt his hands untie the heeled sandal you wore, pushing them off your feet, before he grazed over your naked legs. Every millimeter of your body he touched felt statically loaded. You bid your thanks to the good weather that you could blame your clothing choice on, although you had chosen the still modest skirt for very selfish reasons. 

The less barriers there were, the easier you’d hoped to get what you longed for. 

Tom’s fingers played with the skirt hem, pushed his thumbs underneath, slowly dragging them along the insides of your thighs. Other boys had touched you in the same way before, sometimes it did feel thrilling when they at least pretended to confidently know what they were doing. It didn’t feel pretend with Tom’s touch, it felt like every touch was a conscious choice by him. He meant his touch to be teasing, to edge you in every possible torturing sense. It was a game, and no game at the same time. 

His thumbs moved inwards, inching closer to your clothed heat. You’d chosen the pretty underwear that rotted in the back of your closet, the one you always claimed to be ’too expensive to just wear’. Maybe it had always been meant to be worn for only Tom to see. 

His large hands brushed up your skirt, pooling it at your hips, revealing said underwear. Thumbs still near your heat that begged to be touched, his palms lying flat on your upper thigh, gripping in your flesh. A sudden pull, a gasp erupting out of your mouth, and your lower body was aligned to his. “You don’t understand what you’re doing to me,“ he whispered, his lips hovering above yours. “I crave every glance I can steal at you, every second I get to hear your voice, every touch you allow me.“ 

His words reminded you of the entries in his journal. You may truly didn’t understand the extent his desire went, but you had a feeling that you and he were on the same page about the things you wanted. And right in this moment, you needed him to do something against the wetness between your thighs. 

As if he sensed your limited patience, he drew his thumbs harder, deeper against the inner things, brushing firmly over your slicked folds. “I long for your reaction to my touch,“ he said, circling one of his thumb upwards until it reached the most sensitive point. “To feel you so wet and desperate for it.“

Tom withdrew his thumbs from your entrance as his fingers trailered up to the seam of your underwear, hooking his fingers in the sides and pulled them down—slowly, painfully slow. You pushed yourself up on the massive wooden desk, lifting your ass to have him pull it completely away. You watched him attentively, how he balled your lace underwear in his fist and equally as slow took some steps back. Glancing up from your intimate area up to your eyes, you could swear his eyes were blazing with lust. 

His gaze was stern, focusing directly on you. “Open your legs for me, darling.“ 

You hadn’t even notice that, as he had left you bare, you had shifted your legs together. Not leaving him out of sight, you obeyed, leaning backwards on your elbows before—to torture him just as much—slowly putting aside one leg by other, til he had an unobscured view on your tripping cunt. 

He pushed his hands—one fist still balled around your underwear—in the pockets of his suit pants, drawing your attention there. Lifting his chin, he questioned, “Do you see what you do to me?“ 

You shifted on the desk, gaze switching between his eyes and the proof that this lust wasn’t one-sided. His pants tightened clearly around his crotch, like an invitation for even more fantasies in your head. As bare and revealing as now, you had never shown yourself to him and that feeling was thrilling, shooting shivers up your spine. Seeing the tiniest tease of what he could reveal to you drove you crazy. You hadn’t even gone as far as touching him as intimately as he touched you, and you were craving it. 

Eyes focused on him, you decided to be bold. In a swift movement, you pushed your legs together again, taking away his free view, and pushed yourself to the edge of the desk. He almost didn’t dare to breathe as you glided down onto your knees, kneeling in front of it. His eyes darkened with the overcoming rush. “Let me make up for it,“ you offered. 

Tom remained in his place a few feet away from you. His hesitation was obvious, just as much as desperation to set himself free from his own restrain. “If that is what you want, use words.“ 

Heat shot up in your cheeks, so far boldness went. You gulped, trying to ignore your sudden nervousness, “I want you to come closer to me.“ 

He stepped forward, leaving you almost face-to-face with his crotch. “Is that all you wish for, darling?“ he questioned, glancing down to you. 

Meeting his eyes, you shook your head, hesitating for a moment before answering what you felt and wished for at your deepest core, “I want to taste your cock, sir.“ 

“Good choice of name,“ he murmured, brushing your hair softly behind your ear. His thumb slid slowly from your ears along your jaw.

“I think so, too, sir.“ you grinned, overwhelmed by a rush of ecstatic confidence. You’d never been one for pet names, but calling him sirmade you feel bold. Almost just as bold as your next movement, as your hands moved up along the sides of his trousers, pulling him closer to you by his brown leather belt. Your heart was pumping wildly underneath your chest, in sweet anticipation of knowing what you were about to reveal, about to do. Let alone the thought of your lips wrapped around his cock, licking and teasing his sensitive tip, was getting you even wetter. 

His eyes were solely focused on you, electrifying your entire surrounding. You didn’t dare to break the eye contact as your fingers played around the steal buckle of his belt, undoing it within one swift movement, slowly pushing it aside with one hand as the other pulled down the trouser’s zipper. 

So close.

As you held in, you could feel his body tremble underneath your touch. “Is that okay?“ you questioned, sweetly, teasingly.

A deep, husked laughter rumbled through his throat. “You ask me if I’m okay with this?“ 

Your mouth curved upwards — time to turn this around. “Yes,“ you said, honest. “As much as you like my consent, I need yours, too. So tell me, what do you want, sir?“ 

He sighed, pressing his lips tight together, as he looked down on you, kneeling right in front of his restrained cock. 

So damn close. 

“Use words.“ 

His jaw went rig, hearing you command him seemed to drive him closer and closer to a dangerous edge of no return. His hands brushed your cheek, tipping your chin upwards in the next second, eyes laying heavy on you. “I want your sweet, but filthy mouth around my tip of my cock.“ he said, his raspy voice doing things to you. “I want your tongue flat against my entire length. I want to be deep down your throat, and feel you choke on it.“

He paused, almost to see if his needs scared you, but instead you smiled devilish up to him. “Can you do that for me, darling?“ 

“I’d do nothing rather for you.“ 

All of this was doing something to you, changing your usual ways. It felt so unnatural of the person people knew you as. Saying such filthy things, even wanting them, worse fulfilling them, was unlike you. At least, that was what people would say if they ever found out. You, however, never felt more in control of who you truly were as a person than now. Being with him, taking what you craved, that was the truth. That was what you, deep down, wanted the most. 

You glanced up, meeting his eyes as you placed your hands on each side of his jeans, pushing them down, just under his ass. The black briefs he wore clung well suited onto his thighs. One by one, you hooked your thumbs in the sides, pulling them torturously slow, not knowing who you wanted to pain more—him or yourself. Glancing back down just as the briefs slid over his hardened cock, it sprung free, revealing the glory you’d desired to see, to feel, to taste. 

Your hand clasped around the front of it, giving it a soft tuck. Tom winced, a sound mixing between pleasure and pain, before your hand glided down to the base. Leaning forward, you neared your mouth to the tip, pre-cum glistering on it. An unruly sigh left Tom’s mouth, eyes closing, as your warm mouth closed around his tip, swirling your tongue around it to lick it all clean. How big, how nice he felt in your mouth, just right. 

Pumping up and down around his base, you dove deeper, earning a husky hum in agreement from him. Wetness pooled in-between your legs that you squeezed together in response. “Good girl,“ he breathed out, as you laid your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, letting it glide slowly along. “Just like that, torture me. Play with me. Make me beg.“ 

His words of praise mixed with your heartbeat to the only sounds you could hear and feel in this very moment. All other focus laid on making him feel good. Making him feel more than good. You wanted him to never have felt better before. 

Bopping your head, up, down, closer, deeper, until you could feel the anticipation on your tongue. Until you could only hear him breathe heavier. Until your mouth pulled back to his sensitive tip, circling your tongue once more around it before you plopped his wetted cock out of your mouth. Spit was running down the sides of your mouth, you probably looked like an unholy mess, but you’d bet there was as much wilderness in your eyes as there was in his. 

His chest heaved as he starred down at you—his student, a lover, the reason for the filthiest thoughts he ever had—on your knees in front of him. Exposed in the middle of the lecture hall. 

“Go in the office,“ he ordered, almost unable to catch his own breath, as he stepped backwards. You rose to your feet, while your glance dropped from his to his still hardened, glistening cock. Your body shivered, lost in thought of all the possibilities. 

Without another word, you turned aside and walked the few steps to the small side-office, closely followed by him. Inside, your hand brushed against the large wooden desk when you heard the door lock behind him. Turning around, you noticed how he had clumsily tucked his cock back into his suit pants, leaving the zipper and belt undone.

“What now?“ you questioned, almost disappointed. 

“Lean forward on the desk,“ another order, a mischief grin on his lips unlike what you had seen from him before. He wasn’t holding back anymore—good. Not breaking the eye contact, you turned your head as you leaned down the heightened desk. 

“Like this?“ you asked, laying your hands flat. He hummed in response, stepping from the locked door behind you. The touch of his warm hands sent electric shocks through your body. Slowly, they brushed along the backsides of your thighs to the hem of your skirt. In one swift movement, he had pushed it up to your hips and exposed your bare ass to him. In indescribable speed, your heartbeat and thoughts raced against each other. 

As one of his hand held your hips in place, the other caressed one ass cheek in soft manner. “Has anyone ever laid their hands on you during sexual activities?“ 

“Once.“ 

“What did they do?“ 

You gulped at the question. “He spanked my ass.“ 

“Did you like it?“ 

You shook your head. “It had no effect on me. I wanted him to do it, but he feared to hurt me, so he didn’t hit hard enough.“ you explained. “Is that awful to say? That it wasn’t hard enough?“ 

“No,“ he stated with a firm voice, his hand caressed your lower back. “There is no shame in what you desire. Although it shouldn’t pain you, it should pleasure you.“ After a pause, he questioned, “Do you trust me?“ 

“Yes,“ was your only and immediate reaction. You didn’t know why you put so much trust in someone you, truthfully, barely knew. 

“Tell me immediately to stop if you feel hurt, do you hear me?“ 

“Yes,“ you could barely breathe out, pacing yourself for what was about to happen. You hadn’t like it before, it felt shameful to be spank by someone, although you had lusted for it. But feel the soft breeze of his hovering hand above your ass, you feared you might ended up liking it too much for your own good. 

As if the air cut through, his right hand landed on your ass. A pang of pleasure shot through your spine, mixing with the pain. “How did that feel, darling?“ he asked, speaking in hushed, thick tones. As your skin tingled in recovery, his touch softly soothed the pain. 

“More,“ you simply begged, unable to form any other words, too distracted by his hands brushing from your cheek to your slit.

“More?“ he echoed. A moan fell past your lips as his fingers finally met your needy ends, circling his thumb on your clit while he dipped one finger in your cunt. 

“Yes,“ you whined, to which he slid another finger past your entrance, moving them in deliciously slow stroke in and out. The wet sounds of your arousal filled the office. “Please, sir.“ 

You stay still, bracing yourself in longing need. Just as he brought his other hand down, he curved his fingers inside your cunt upwards, stroking them against your g-spot. Your jaw fell as you grasped the edges of the desk, moans locked out of your mouth. You feared to come all over his fingers just like that. The pain stung your skin, and before it had even the chance to sooth, his hand connected to your other cheek, adding to another deep stroke inside you. You bucked against his hand, pushing your ass closer to him. 

Tears formed in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill any second. You wanted to come, you needed to come. You didn’t even care anymore if it was around his cock, his fingers or emptiness. You needed all these loaded feelings to explode. 

His fingers filled you, but didn’t move, causing you to be unable to spasm into an orgasm. You needed more closeness, you needed him to wreck you fully. “Please,“ you whimpered, so embarrassingly needy. Your heart sprung into thousand pieces, as you begged with puffy eyes, “Please, Tom, fuck me.“ 

Hearing you say his name, and not another nickname, out loud seemed to do something to him. All of the sudden his fingers weren’t filling you anymore, leaving you to mourn the feeling of fullness. Instead he slid his hands gently over your arms, grabbing your wrists one by one to pull them down on your back, holding them securely there, and then there was salvation. 

He had given himself a few lazy strokes, although he was still so very hardened from your actions, from your moans, from the unruly sight of you being an utter mess. You let a low cry of his name as he pushed his length into you, stretching you out fully, and it felt better than you could’ve ever dreamed of. 

You gasped as he bottomed out to slam back in within seconds, “Fuck.“ 

The threatening tears from before were returning, now flowing unstoppable over your cheeks. This was how it was supposed to be, this was how sex should feel in your eyes—breath-robbing, lustful, driven by desire and need.

“You do so well, my darling,“ he murmured, even his voice sounded breathless. With one hand, he held yours steady behind your back, fucking in and out of your tripping cunt, as you felt his other hand drawing small circles on the sensitive nob of yours.  

You had tried to keep your mouth shut, knowing that the office wouldn’t shut out all the noise, but you couldn’t help but let loose. Hectic moans, gasps and agreeing hums filled the room. “What a good girl you are, letting me fuck your tight, little pussy,“ he said, edging you with every word. “You take me so well, almost as if you’ve never done anything else.“ 

“Tom,“ you whined, as he slammed into you, taking up the tempo to fuck you harder against the desk. “I—“, you stumbled upon your words, unable to think straight. 

He felt it, so he acted upon it, pressing harder down on your clit. Tilting even deeper, and with one grand movement, he tripped you over the edge. You clenched and pulsed around him, feeling the delicious fullness of his cock in your cunt. The only feeling you would always yearn after—to be so utterly and completely fucked out by a single orgasm. 

Coming back to your senses, you felt him letting go of your wrists and suddenly, you felt nothing but emptiness as he pulled out. Turning around to him, you saw him breathless and full in pain.

Kneeling down, once more, in front of him, you gave him the signal to go on. Wildered eyes starred with gaped mouth at you, while you opened up yours wide, sticking out your tongue. His large hand closed around his length, pumping it once, twice until there was only your name, followed by a hissed moan. You felt his hot seeds on your tongue, against your cheeks, on your nose, all of your face—totally marked up.