☾:⋆*･grace rocky save stars☾⋆*･ﾟ

Normally, that would have been annoying. But tonight, it felt like the last little shove after an already terrible day. The guy I had been seeing had ended things earlier this evening. We had not been official or anything, so maybe I should not have been as upset as I was, but after so many almost-relationships and the tortures of early dating, I was starting to wonder what the point of even trying was.

And then, of course, it started raining.

Cold, miserable rain.

I sat pressed against the brick wall beneath the tiny overhang by the entrance, but it barely helped. The rain still blew in sideways, misting over my jacket and soaking into my hair. I hugged my book bag closer to my chest and pulled my coat tighter around myself, trying to keep what little warmth I had left.

Maybe someone would show up and let me in.

Or maybe my dad would finally answer one of the twenty-nine calls I had left him.

He was horrible at answering his phone when he was working. Absolutely useless.

After my date had broken it off, mid-dinner mind you, I had him drop me off here with my things. This seemed like a great idea at the time. A way to escape into my books, and not be left at home, alone in my misery. If only I hadn't left my key pass at home.

Another icy gust of wind tore through me, and I shivered hard. It was not like I had any other choice but to wait. He would be done in a couple of hours, technically. I could survive a couple of hours. The buses had stopped running ages ago, and I was not about to spend over forty-five dollars on a taxi home. 

Maybe it was embarrassing that at the age of twenty-five I was still scraping money together. But I suppose that was what happened when you decided to go for a PhD in microbiology. It was expensive, exhausting, and time-consuming.

But it was worth it.

It paid for itself in happiness, at least. In contentment. There was something deeply comforting about knowing I was working toward a life in a field I genuinely adored.

A voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Hey- are you okay?”

I looked up, squinting through the rain and the darkness. At first, I could barely make out his face, but I recognized the yellow rain jacket almost immediately.

It was Professor Ryland Grace.

“Oh, hi, Dr. Grace,” I said quickly, straightening a little. “Sorry, I didn’t see you walk up.”

“Is everything okay?” he asked, stepping closer. “You’re sitting out here all alone in the dark at nine p.m.”

He gave a small chuckle as he said it, but there was concern in his voice.

I knew Dr. Grace well enough. I had been in his lab a few times before, though never one of his classes since he taught molecular biology. His classroom also happened to be the largest auditorium in the building and had the best lab equipment, so my friends and I often borrowed the space after hours to study or run experiments whenever the equipment in our regular lab was being used.

He had always been kind about it. Sometimes he wandered over to see what we were working on, asking questions or offering a comment here and there. He was even friends with my organic chemistry teacher, sometimes wandering in to see what we were up too. They were definitely what you would call the 'fun teachers’. He seemed more engaged than most professors. More present. And, honestly, much nicer than he needed to be.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I said, though the chattering of my teeth probably made that sound less convincing. “I forgot my pass. I was going to come study for a couple of hours while I waited for my dad to finish working.”

“Ah, I see.” He smiled as he came to a stop in front of me. His glasses were dotted with raindrops, and his yellow jacket was absolutely drenched. “Well, I can let you into the building, if you’d like.”

“Yes, please. I would love that.” I scrambled to my feet and swung my backpack over one shoulder. “I am absolutely freezing out here.”

He chuckled softly and reached into his pocket for his pass. We walked up the steps together, and he pressed his card against the reader beside the front doors. The light flashed green, and a second later, the lock clicked open.

The moment I stepped inside, warmth wrapped around me.

I cupped my hands over my mouth and breathed into them. “Oh my gosh. It’s so nice and warm in here.”

“Yes, it’s absolutely freezing out there,” he said, taking off his glasses to wipe them on his shirt. “How long were you locked out?”

“At least half an hour,” I said, rubbing my hands together.

“And you’re not even dressed for winter weather.” He looked me over and made a faint tsking sound before putting his glasses back on.

I glanced down at myself. He was right. I was wearing a thin dress coat over a thin buttoned up cardigan and short skirt that stopped mid thigh. My skin-coloured stockings were doing absolutely nothing against the cold, and my knee-high socks and boots were soaked at the edges. My hair had been curled nicely earlier, but now the curls were damp, limp, and completely ruined.

“Yeah, well,” I said with a breathy laugh. “I was on a date.”

I hesitated, then added, “But that ended early, so I thought I’d come here and get some extra studying done.”

“Oh?” Dr. Grace said as we started down the hall. The sensor lights flicked on one by one as we walked. “Why did it end early?”

He glanced at me over his glasses, then quickly looked away.

“Sorry,” he added. “I don’t mean to pry.”

“No, it’s okay. I—”

I stopped talking when we reached his classroom door.

“Oh, actually,” I said, suddenly realizing the problem. “Since I don’t have my pass, I won’t be able to get into the library to study.”

“Oh, right.” He nodded. “Well, let me drop my things off here, and I can take you down there to unlock it.”

“I’m sorry to inconvenience you. I’m sure you’re busy, and it’s almost a seven-minute walk from here all the way to the library.”

“It’s really no trouble at all,” he said, fiddling with the lock. “I’d be happy to take you. You’re always welcome to study here in the lab too, of course.”

The door finally swung open into the large, dark classroom.

“If that’s okay with you, Actually, I could use your lab,” I said. “But I’m sure you’re busy. I don't want to impose”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t mind the company tonight.” He smiled at me over his glasses, then stepped inside and began flicking on the lights.

“Thank you,” I said, letting out a relieved breath.

I made my way to the lab bench I usually used, tucked away on the left side of the classroom. I liked that spot because it sat near the large windows that overlooked the courtyard. During the day, when sunlight poured through the glass, it was beautiful. Tonight, the courtyard was dark and blurred by rain, but it was still better than staring at a blank wall.

Dr. Grace unpacked his bag at the other end of the classroom, stacking notebooks and binders on his desk.

For a while, we worked in comfortable silence.

I was bent over my notebook, making a new set of flashcards since my old ones had gotten soaked in my pocket. There were so many names, terms, and processes I needed to have memorized before Monday. Usually, I preferred to study with quiet instrumental music playing, something to drown out the noise of other students, but tonight the silence was surprisingly nice.

The only sounds were Dr. Grace typing at his keyboard, the scratch of his pen across paper, and the occasional sigh as he flipped a page.

After a while, he broke the silence.

“Did you want a coffee? I was going to grab one.”

The sudden sound almost made me jump.

“Oh. Sure, actually. That would be nice. Thank you.”

“How do you take yours?” he asked, already heading toward the door.

“Two cream, two sugar,” I said, smiling.

“Ah. A good old double-double?”

“A what?” I smirked.

“Never mind.” He gave an awkward little smile. “That’s what Canadians call it when you get two creams and two sugars. Just a fun fact.”

“Oh,” I said, laughing a little dryly. “I get it.”

“I’ll be back.”

He turned quickly and left the room.

See? Awkward, but nice.

And probably one of the youngest professors teaching at the university. He could not have been much older than his mid-to-late thirties.

Only a few minutes passed before he returned, carefully carrying two paper coffee cups. He came up behind me slowly, as if worried he might spill.

“Here you go.”

“Mhm. Thank you.” I wrapped both hands around the cup and took a sip. “Just what I needed.”

Even with the coffee, I shivered. My clothes were still damp from the rain.

“Are you still cold?” he asked, taking a sip from his own cup. He stood a few feet away from me.

“Very much, yes.” I gestured vaguely to my wet hair. “It’s not exactly easy to warm up when you’re still slightly soaked.”

He pushed away from the desk he had been leaning against, setting his coffee down next to me, and walked back toward his own. He reached behind his office chair.

“Here,” he said.

When he turned around, he was holding a cream knit sweater.

I recognized it immediately. I had seen him wear it a few times before. It was memorable because it had a pretty red fox pattern stitched across the sides and back.

“Oh, no,” I said quickly. “I couldn’t take your sweater.”

“Please, I insist. What sort of gentleman would I be if I didn’t at least offer?” He shrugged slightly. “Besides, it’s not like I’m going to need it.”

Before I could protest again, he draped the cardigan over my shoulders.

He was not wrong. He was already dressed much better for the weather than I was, wearing a grey blazer over a blue striped button-up with jeans. Still, I suddenly became very aware of the situation.

I was wearing Dr. Grace’s sweater.

Drinking his coffee.

Sitting alone with him in his classroom on a Friday evening.

“Well,” I said, smiling sheepishly, “thank you.”

The silence that followed felt different than before. Not uncomfortable exactly, just different.

“So,” I said, trying to break it, “why are you here this late on a Friday night, Dr. Grace?”

“Oh.” He glanced back at his desk. “I’m usually here this late. Lots of work to do, lots of grading. I could do it at home, but I get more done when I come in anyway.” He paused, swirling his coffee slightly. “Plus, I enjoy how quiet the evenings are around here.”

“Your family doesn’t mind you spending your evenings here?” I asked without thinking.

I had just assumed he was married or had kids. Most professors his age seemed to.

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “No, it’s just me. You know, married to the job.”

He chuckled awkwardly.

“Oh, sorry,” I said quickly. “I didn’t mean to assume or—”

“I mean, I could ask you the same thing,” he said, cutting in before I could spiral. “You’re young. In university. You’re don’t have a party to be at or something?”

He lifted his hands jokingly.

“Well, I mean, yes. I had a date tonight, but that…” I trailed off.

“Right. Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring that up again. I—”

“No, no, it’s fine,” I said, cutting him off this time. “I mean, this guy and I weren’t exactly a thing yet. We weren’t serious or anything. We had been on a couple dates, but nothing too crazy. I guess I wasn’t even really that into him. I was mostly just trying to get to know him because I really wanted to—”

I stopped abruptly.

Oh my god.

I could not believe I had almost said something that embarrassing in front of Dr. Grace. It was not like we were close friends. He was just so easy to talk to that I had completely lost track of myself.

“You really wanted to what?” he asked.

His gaze rested just above the rim of his glasses, focused on me with a flicker of concern.

“I just…”

I stopped again, took a long sip of coffee, and stared down into the cup.

Then I sighed.

At this point, what did I really have to lose? My friends already made fun of me for it, and part of the reason I had gone out with that guy in the first place was because I was tired of feeling behind. Tired of feeling like I had missed some invisible deadline everyone else had already passed.

“I’m twenty-five,” I said, my voice quieter now, “and I still haven’t lost my virginity. I was trying to get laid.”

I said the last part directly into my coffee cup, my eyes squeezed shut.

Dr. Grace choked on his drink.

I kept my eyes closed. I did not need to see his face to know exactly how he had reacted.

Finally, I took a deep breath and opened my eyes, looking down at my shoes instead of at him.

“Oh, um,” he said, clearly caught off guard. “You’ve never—”

He stopped himself, as if he could not quite finish the sentence.

“I mean, I’ve done some things before,” I said quickly, my cheeks burning. “Like I’ve given a hand job before. Just not the actual thing.”

“Okay!” he said, eyes widening. “I didn’t need to know all the details”

“Sorry,” I muttered.

The heat in my face was unbearable.

“Listen,” he said after a moment, scratching the back of his neck, “it’s really not that big of a deal. Being twenty-five and still a virgin, I mean. Lots of people wait until they find the right person. There’s no timeline for that.”

He looked flustered, awkward, and like he desperately wished he was anywhere else than having this conversation with me.

“How old were you, when you lost yours?” I asked.

He nearly choked again.

“Oh.” He blinked. “I was nineteen, I think. At my first college party.”

“See?” I said, lifting one hand as if that proved my point. “A perfectly acceptable age. I’m in my mid-twenties. It’s getting sad.”

Then, before I could stop myself, I added, “Plus, a girl has needs.”

The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them.

This time, Dr. Grace was the one who turned red. He shakes his head. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you.”

I tilted my head, looking at him.

He exhales, clearly trying not to smile. “You really shouldn’t say things like ‘a girl has needs’ to a man who’s needs to stay professional.”

“Stay professional?” I repeated, in an innocent sounding tone.

He clears his throat. “Especially now, when I’m having a hard time trying to not wondering what you mean by ‘needs’.”

I looked down at my shoes again, feeling warmth rush to my face.

He’s quiet for a second, before he says, “You said you weren’t super into that guy anyway. So what are you looking for?”

I hesitate, stuck between not knowing what to say, and not exactly sure what he’s getting at. The idea of Dr. Grace potentially flirting with me, has my stomach in twists.

Then he adds, almost carefully, “If it’s just about losing it, fine. But if you’re hoping for someone who’s going to take their time and actually focus on what feels good for you…” He trails off, letting the implication hang.

Professor Grace was still mid-sentence, his voice low from everything we’d just said, when my phone vibrated sharply inside my bag. The sound slicing through the heaviness in the moment. I reached quickly into my bag, snatching my ringing phone out, my fingers fumbling as I did so. It was my father texting me back, finally.

As I lifted the phone towards me, something black flung out in the motion of tugging my phone out. I watched in slow horror, as a pair of delicate black lace panties slipped free and landed softly on the floor between us.

His gaze dropped instantly. His jaw flexed hard, the muscle ticking as his eyes locked onto the intimate scrap of fabric. He swallowed visibly, throat working, and for a moment he looked like he couldn’t tear his eyes away. The air in the room suddenly feeling stuffy.

My face flooded with heat. “Oh my god,” I whispered, mortified, though the word came out breathier than I meant.

Professor Grace’s voice emerged hoarse, almost strained. “Are those your…” He trailed off, his jaw working again. “Are you not wearing any underwear right now?”

I let out a small, nervous laugh, the absurdity of everything that had just happened. “No. I was trying to be flirty on my date, and I was hoping—” The sentence died on my tongue the second my eyes flicked downward and caught the unmistakable strain pressing against the front of his jeans. My lips parted. “Wait… are you hard?”

A deeper flush exploded across his face. He shifted abruptly, one hand moving to cover the prominent bulge, but it only drew more attention to how visibly affected he was. “I’m so sorry,” he choked out, voice rough and unsteady. His fingers flexed against his thigh like he was fighting the urge to adjust himself.

I tilted my head, emboldened by the way his breathing had changed. “Professor Grace, does the idea of me sitting here with nothing under my skirt… turn you on?”

He let out a shaky exhale, gaze darting away even as his cock twitched visibly against the denim. He didn’t deny it. Instead, he leaned down slowly, movements deliberate, and picked up the fallen panties with careful fingers. 

I watched Professor Grace stand slowly, his tall frame unfolding until he was right in front of me, one arm extended with my black lace panties dangling from his fingers. The position put the hard outline of his cock directly in my line of sight, thick and straining against the denim of his jeans. My mouth went dry. Without thinking, I reached out and pressed my palm flat against him.

He was huge. Even through the fabric I could feel the heat and the rigid length of him. His jaw clenched hard, the muscle flexing as a low breath hissed between his teeth.

“Fuck. Don’t,” he gritted, the word sounding pained as he said it.

My hand stayed right where it was, cupping him gently. “I could help you with… that,” I said, voice barely above a whisper, nodding toward his lap. “Let me, Dr. Grace.”

He didn’t pull away. His eyes were locked on me, wide and glassy, like he was watching me devour him. I reached up, hooked two fingers into his tie, and tugged. He came willingly, melting forward with a shaky exhale, both hands bracing on the desk behind me so I was suddenly caged between his arms. I kept pulling until his face hovered just above mine, close enough that I could feel his breath on my lips.

“Please, teach me Dr. Grace” I whispered.

Quickly, he closed the small distance, smashing his mouth to mine. His mouth hot and urgent against mine. My hands fumbled for his belt, fingers exploring and curling over the clasped buckle. For a few perfect seconds he let me attempt to undo his belt, hips twitching forward into my touch.

Then, as if he suddenly remember where he was, he jerked back.

“Oh my god, we can’t do this. We have to stop.” He was panting, chest heaving, the bulge in his jeans even more obvious now. My lips felt swollen and wet from his mouth.

Before I could answer, something in me snapped. I stood up, grabbed his tie again, and yanked him back down to me. The height difference hit me suddenly. He stood tall and strong, fully towering over me, with muscular broad shoulders. I had to stretch up on my toes just to reach him, but the second our mouths met again the kiss turned desperate. His hands came down to my waist, gripping tight as he bent over me, and I could feel how badly he was shaking. 

I had never realized just how large Dr. Grace was, until I was running my hands down his shoulders and torso, feeling every line of his muscular build. The tension between us was unbearable now.

"I could get in so much trouble,” he whispered against my lips, breaking the kiss for only a second.

“Well, not that much,” I breathed back, my voice shaky. “I’m not technically even one of your students. And I’m a PhD student… so that makes it different too.”

He didn’t argue. Instead he leaned in and kissed me hard again, his tongue sliding into my mouth the moment I opened for him. One of his hands slipped under his cardigan I was still wearing, his hand warm against my lower back. The other hand gripped my ass firmly. In one smooth motion he lifted me, spun us around, and set me on the edge of the lab table. My hands found his hair, fingers threading through it and tugging gently.

He broke the kiss again, both hands now cupping my face. “I can't do it,” he said, voice rough. “Your first time should be with someone special. It should be special and loving… not rushed in my lab on a random Friday night.”

“I don’t care about it being special,” I whispered, almost desperate. “I’m horny. I’m so horny and I just want to fuck. Please, Dr. Grace. Please.”

He looked at me, searching, clearly torn.

“Please,” I said again, softer. “I feel safe with you. I want it to be with you.”

His thumb brushed over my cheek. “Are you sure?” His eyes searched mine.

“Yes. Please. I want my first time to be with you.” I turned my head and took his thumb into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it slowly.

He watched, jaw tight. “Okay,” he finally said, the word low and strained. “I don’t have any protection with me though.”

“I do. They’re in the front pocket of my backpack.” I smirked and shrugged my arms, letting his cardigan slip off of me, it pooling at my waist.

“Of course you do,” he chuckled, the sound husky.

I yanked his tie down again, pulling him into another deep kiss. My legs wrapped around his waist, dragging his hardness against me. His hands slid up my thighs, pushing my skirt higher until it bunched at my hips. He rocked against me slowly, the friction making me gasp into his mouth. I reached for his hand and guided it down between my legs, pressing his fingers against my bare wetness.

He groaned into the kiss at the contact. His fingers moved gently at first, circling my clit. I moaned against his lips, the sensation overwhelming. It had only ever been my own hand before, and the size and roughness of his fingers already felt incredible.

“I need more, please,” I begged against his mouth.

He smiled into the kiss. “Slow,” he murmured. “We take it slow.”

I made a noise of protest and started grinding against his hand. He broke the kiss just enough to look at me, eyes darker than I’d ever seen them.

“Do you touch yourself when you’re all alone?” he asked in a deeper tone I’d never heard from him before.

My face burned, at the question. I nodded slowly, struggling to hold his gaze.

“Mhm Really?” His head tilted, eyes full of heat. “And how do you like to do that?” His thumb swiped over my clit again, making my thighs twitch.

“I have a vibrator I use,” I admitted, voice small.

“And do you have any toys you like to put in here?” he asked, circling my entrance before slowly sliding one finger inside me.

I gasped at the sensation. “N-No. I just use my fingers.”

“All by yourself?” He smirked, moving his finger in and out slowly before leaning in to kiss me again. When he pulled back, his voice was low. “I want you to show me.”

“Show you?” I asked, annoyed at the sudden loss of contact.

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he said, stepping back.

I watched, half-dazed, as he licked the finger that had been inside me, then shrugged off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He leaned against the table behind him, arms crossed over his chest. God, this whole teacher vibe was suddenly such a turn on. Finally, he peered over his glasses at me, as if impatient.

Suddenly all of the confidence I had just five minutes ago and shrivelled up and left the room. I took a shaky breath before slowly unbuttoning the buttons of my thin cardigan sweater, allowing my tits to spill out. A thin laced bra, one that matched the panties that had fallen out of my bag earlier, was the only thing covering me now.

“Fuck, I’m in so much trouble,” he groaned. I smirked to myself, knowing exactly what this was doing to him.

Slowly I trailed my hand down my stomach until my fingers met my slick heat. I circled my clit the way I knew felt good, head tipping back with a moan. When my fingers were wet enough, I slid two inside myself, pumping slowly while I held his gaze. The power of having him watch me like this was intoxicating. I had never had a man at my mercy, the way I had Dr Grace right now, and I was starting to love the power I had in this moment. I would do anything to make him melt even further. After a few strokes I brought my fingers to my mouth, sucking them clean with a soft pop before sliding them back inside.

I swear, I saw a vein pop in Grace’s temple, before he dove to his knees before me. 

"Has anyone ever eaten your pussy before?" he asked, breath hot against me. His forehead lightly leaning against my knee, as he peered up at me over his glasses.

I shook my head. “No, I’ve never—”

“Can I?” He lifted my legs onto his shoulders and pulled me to the very edge of the table.

“Please,” I breathed.

He started with slow kisses along my inner thighs, dragging out the anticipation until I was squirming. Then his tongue dragged through my wet slit and flicked over my clit. My head fell back as pleasure shot through me. I moaned loudly.

“You have to be quiet,” he warned, nipping my thigh.

“Fuck—sorry,” I gasped, clapping a hand over my mouth. 

Oh. My. God. This was the greatest thing I have ever felt in my entire life.

Dr. Grace didn’t waste any more time with his words. He settled between my thighs again, his shoulders nudging them wider, and went back to work with slow, deliberate focus. His tongue dragged flat and hot over my clit, then circled it with steady pressure before sucking it gently between his lips. Every few strokes he dipped lower, licking into me with long, wet strokes that made my hips jerk. The sounds were obscene. Wet, soft, and hungry noises as he worked. The occasional hum of satisfaction vibrating against me when my thighs trembled around his head.

I felt his fingers slide in alongside his mouth, two of them curling just right, fucking into me in a slow rhythm while his tongue kept up its relentless attention on my clit. He alternated between broad, lazy licks and tight, precise flicks that had me gasping. Pleasure coiled tighter low in my spine, spreading outward in thick, pulsing waves. My hand found its way into his hair, fingers tightening when he sucked harder, pulling my clit into his mouth and holding it there while his tongue worked underneath.

It didn’t take long before the heat built up low in my spine, thick and insistent, winding tighter with every stroke of his tongue and every curl of his fingers inside me.

“Dr. Grace, I’m going to—” I warned, thighs trembling.

He groaned against me, the sound vibrating through my core, and that pushed me over. I came hard, hips jerking as he held me down, one hand still clamped over my mouth while the other gripped the table. My knuckles turning white as I held the edge of it. When I finally came down, legs twitching, he gave me one last slow lick before kissing my inner thigh and standing.

“Please,” I whispered, reaching for his hand. “I need you.”

He ran a hand over his face, then turned to my backpack. He found the condoms and pulled out the whole sleeve, eyes widening.

“Jesus,” he said.

I just shrugged, still perched on the edge of the table.

He tore one off and stepped back between my legs. I reached down, unbuckling his belt and undoing his jeans. Now the only thing standing between us, was a thin fabric pair of black boxer shorts. They were tight, and cupped his size very well, leaving hardly anything up to the imagination. I sucked in a breath, swallowing the building saliva in my mouth, before hooking a finger in, and pulling the waistband of his underwear down too. His cock sprang free. Thick, veiny, and already leaking pre cum from the tip. I swallowed again, hard.

“Damn,” I whispered.

He looked almost pained as I took the condom from him, tore it open, and carefully rolled it down his length. He shuddered at the contact. I leaned back on my elbows, spreading my legs for him.

“You know, for someone who hasn’t done this before, you sure seem to know what you’re doing,” he teased, lining himself up.

“I’ve seen a condom be put on before,” I teased back, resting my ankles on his waist.

He placed one hand on my hip, the other guiding his cock. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes. Please. I want you.”

“Are you sure? I want you to be sure.”

I took a deep breath, meeting his eyes. “I am sure.”

“Okay.” His thumb stroked my chin. “We can stop at any time. If it hurts, or if you don’t like it, just say stop and I’ll stop. Okay?”

I bit my lip. “Okay.”

He studied me for a long moment, thumb still brushing my chin. Then he took a small step back, giving me space even though his cock was still hard and glistening at the tip.

“Since this is your first time,” he said quietly, voice low and controlled, “I’m going to teach you. We’re not rushing. You’re going to do what I tell you, and if anything feels wrong, you say so. Understand?”

I nodded, my heart pounding.

“Good girl.” The praise made my stomach flip. Damn, I did not expect Dr. Grace to have game like this. He reached for my hand and brought it to his length, wrapping my fingers around the thick base. 

“Start slow. Just feel me first. Don’t squeeze too hard.”

My hand looked small wrapped around him. I moved tentatively, sliding my palm up and down. He let out a slow breath through his nose.

“That’s it. A little tighter at the top… yes, just like that.” His hips gave the smallest twitch forward. “Good. Now watch how I react when you twist your wrist like that—fuck, exactly.”

I bit my lip, trying to focus on his instructions instead of how intimidatingly big he felt in my hand. He reached down and gently adjusted my grip, showing me the right pressure and rhythm.

“Most people go too fast,” he murmured. “You want to tease a little. Feel how heavy I am? That’s what you’re doing to me.”

My face burned, but I kept stroking the way he showed me. After a minute he wrapped his larger hand over mine, guiding me in a few firmer strokes before stopping me.

“Enough for now,” he said, voice rougher. “I want to teach you something else.”

He stepped closer again, caging me on the table. One hand slid behind my neck while the other stayed on my hip.

“Kiss me again,” he instructed against my mouth. His tongue stroked against mine deliberately, showing me the rhythm he liked. When I got too eager he pulled back with a small smile.

“Easy,” he murmured. “We have time. I’m teaching you, remember?”

His hand moved between my legs again, two fingers sliding through my wetness.

“You’re so wet,” he noted, almost clinically, though his voice was strained. “That’s good. It’ll make it easier. Now I want you to touch yourself while I watch again—but this time I’m going to tell you exactly how.”

He stepped back just enough to give himself a clear view, arms crossed over his chest like he was observing an experiment.

“Two fingers. Circle your clit three times, then dip inside. Show me how deep you usually go.”

I obeyed, cheeks flaming as I followed his instructions exactly. He watched every movement with dark, focused eyes.

“Deeper,” he said quietly. “Good. Now add a third finger and curl them. Feel that spot? That’s what I’m going to hit when I’m inside you.”

I whimpered at the image. He stepped forward again, taking my wrist and gently pulling my hand away.

“I think you’re ready,” he said, voice low. “But I’m still going to go slow. You’re going to tell me how it feels the whole time. Can you do that for me?”

I nodded quickly, legs already trembling.

He lined himself up, the blunt head of his cock pressing against my entrance. One big hand cupped the back of my neck while the other held my hip.

“Deep breath,” he instructed. “And look at me.”

I looked up into his eyes as he began to push in. Immediate burning pain ripped through my opening, as he continued to move. Inch by careful inch, pausing every time I gasped so I could adjust.

“That’s it,” he praised, voice tight with restraint. “You’re doing so well. Tell me how it feels.”

“Okay,” I whispered. The stretching sensation was overwhelming.

Professor Grace studied me for another second, then gave a small nod like he was making a decision. He stayed close, one hand still on my hip while the other guided the thick head of his cock to my entrance. The blunt pressure alone made me suck in a sharp breath.

“Deep breath,” he instructed quietly. “In through your nose. That’s it. Now let it out slowly… good girl.”

I followed his words, trying to relax as he began to push forward. The stretch was immediate and intense. Far more than my own fingers had ever been. I felt my walls resisting, then slowly yielding around him. My hands flew to his forearms, gripping tight.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he murmured, voice strained. He paused after just the tip was inside, letting me adjust. “How does that feel?”

“Big,” I admitted, voice shaky. “Really big.”

A faint smile touched his lips despite how tense he looked. “That’s normal. You’re doing so well. I want you to bear down a little. Push out against me. It’ll help me slide in easier.”

I did as he said, and he rewarded me with another inch. The sensation was overwhelming. The burn, the fullness, the way my body had to open for him. He watched my face the entire time, eyes locked on mine behind his glasses.

“Another breath,” he coached. “In… and out. You’re taking me so beautifully. I’m going to go a little deeper now. Tell me if it’s too much.” 

I whimpered at the thought of him only being half way in.

He pressed forward again, slow and steady, until I felt him bottom out. My eyes watered at the sudden depth. He stayed perfectly still, both hands now on my hips to keep me grounded.

“There,” he said softly, pride in his voice. “You’ve got all of me. How does it feel?”

“Full,” I gasped. “I can feel you everywhere.”

He leaned down and kissed my forehead, then my lips, giving me time. “That’s exactly how it should feel your first time. Now I’m going to stay right here for a moment so your body can get used to it. When you’re ready, I want you to rock your hips just a little. Do small movements. I’ll guide you.”

I tried a tentative roll of my hips and immediately moaned at the new friction. He groaned above me, the sound low and rough.

“That’s it. Just like that. You’re a fast learner.” His thumbs stroked soothing circles on my skin. “When I start moving, I want you to match my rhythm. Don’t chase it too hard yet, okay? We’re taking it slow.”

He pulled back just an inch and pushed in again, testing. My whole body shuddered. He kept the movements shallow at first, shallow and careful, all the while murmuring instructions.

“Breathe through it… good. Tilt your hips up a little—yes, right there. That angle will feel better for you.”

Every time I made a sound or my walls fluttered around him, he adjusted, teaching me what my body liked without me even having to ask. His control was impressive, but I could feel how tightly he was holding himself back.

“You’re doing so well,” he praised again, voice thick. “I’m going to give you a little more now. Tell me if you need me to stop.”

He began to thrust with more purpose. Still slow, but deeper. Each stroke dragged against that spot inside me that made my toes curl. My legs tightened around his waist on instinct.

“Legs a little higher,” he instructed. “Wrap them around my back… yes. That lets me get even deeper.”

I obeyed, and the new angle made me cry out. He immediately slowed.

“Too much?”

“No,” I panted. “Don’t stop. Please.”

A dark, satisfied look crossed his face. “That’s it. Now I want you to focus on relaxing every time I push in. Let your body open for me. That’s it… perfect.”

He kept guiding me with his words and hands, showing me how to move with him, how to breathe, how to take him. And even though I was the one being taught, the way he watched every reaction like it was the only thing that mattered made the whole moment feel intensely intimate.

Professor Grace stayed buried deep inside me for another long moment, letting me adjust to the overwhelming stretch. His thumbs kept stroking slow circles on my hips as he watched my face.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured. “Now I want you to try rolling your hips again, but this time I’m going to move with you. Match me.”

He pulled back a few inches and pushed forward again, deeper this time. I tried to follow the rhythm he set, but my movements were clumsy and uncertain. He let out a low groan when I accidentally clenched around him.

“Easy,” he said, voice tight but patient. “Don’t rush. Rock your hips up to meet me when I thrust in. Like this.” He guided my hips with both hands, showing me the right angle and timing. “There. Feel how that lets me hit deeper?”

I nodded, biting my lip as the new motion sent sparks through my body. Every time he pushed in, he angled his hips slightly differently until I gasped sharply.

“Right there?” he asked, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “That’s your spot. I want you to focus on that. When I thrust, tilt your hips just like you did now.”

He started moving with more purpose. Still slow, but with more intention. One of his hands slid up to cradle the back of my neck while the other stayed on my hip, controlling the pace.

“Wrap your legs higher around me,” he instructed. “Good. Now squeeze a little when I pull out. Yes… fuck, just like that.”

The new position made everything feel tighter and more intense. I could feel every inch of him dragging against my walls. My breathing grew ragged, and I started to lose the rhythm he’d taught me.

He noticed immediately and slowed down.

“Look at me,” he said firmly. “Breathe. You’re getting overwhelmed. In… and out. That’s it. We’re not in a hurry.”

Once my breathing steadied, he rewarded me by picking up the pace just a fraction. His hand slid between our bodies and his thumb found my clit, circling it in time with his thrusts.

“You’re getting wetter,” he observed, voice low and slightly strained. “That’s perfect. I’m going to go a little faster now. If it’s too much, tell me.”

He began thrusting with more force, the sound of skin meeting skin growing louder in the quiet lab. Every stroke was deliberate, as he kept checking.

“Relax your stomach… tilt your hips up… that’s it. You’re taking me so well.”

I could feel another orgasm building, this time, it felt different. It was tighter and sharper than the first one, starting in my lower abdomen, the sensations travelling down to my toes. I had never felt a sensation like this before. My hands gripped his shoulders as I tried to keep up with the rhythm he’d set.

“You’re close again, aren’t you?” he asked, watching my face. “Don’t fight it. Let it happen. I’ve got you.”

His thumb pressed more firmly against my clit as he thrust deeper, and I felt myself starting to unravel.

His thumb kept circling my clit with steady pressure while his hips rolled into me in that same deliberate rhythm he’d been teaching me. The combination was quickly becoming too much.

“I—I’m close,” I gasped, my voice breaking.

“I know,” he said, voice low and calm. “I can feel you tightening around me. Feel good for me. Breathe through it like I showed you.”

I tried to follow his instruction, but my body was starting to shake. My legs trembled where they were wrapped around his waist. He noticed and slid one hand under my thigh, lifting it slightly higher so he could angle deeper.

“There,” he murmured when my breath hitched sharply. “Stay right there. Keep your hips tilted just like that. Good girl.”

The praise made something inside me clench even harder. My back arched off the lab table as the pressure built fast and hot at the base of my spine.

“Dr. Grace—” I whimpered, one hand clutching at his shirt.

“I’ve got you,” he said, never losing the steady pace. “Let it happen. Don’t hold back. I want to feel you come around me.”

His thumb pressed firmer, rubbing tight circles, and the next thrust hit that spot inside me perfectly. My vision blurred. The orgasm crashed through me harder than i've ever experienced before, my walls pulsing and fluttering around his cock as I cried out. My thighs shook uncontrollably, and I had to slap a hand over my mouth again to muffle the sound.

He groaned at the feeling, hips stuttering for the first time as I clenched around him. But he didn’t stop moving. He kept thrusting slowly through my orgasm, drawing it out while murmuring quiet praise.

“That’s it… just like that. You’re doing so well. Ride it out for me.”

I was still trembling when he finally slowed to a stop, buried deep inside me. My chest heaved as I tried to catch my breath. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of my breast, sucking the skin slightly.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. “You took that so well.”

My legs were still loosely wrapped around him, and I could feel how hard he still was inside me. He hadn’t come yet.

He brushed his thumb over my cheek. “How are you feeling?”

I swallowed, still dazed. “Good… really good.”

He nodded, then carefully pulled out just a little before sliding back in, testing. “Do you think you can keep going, or do you need a break?”

I shook my head quickly. “I want to keep going.”

A small, satisfied smile curved his mouth. “Then I’m going to teach you something new.”

He studied my face for a moment, then slowly pulled out of me. I felt strangely empty the second he was gone. He stepped back and sat down on one of the sturdy lab chairs, his cock still hard and glistening.

“Come here,” he said, voice low. “I want you on top.”

My legs felt shaky as I slid off the table. He guided me forward until I was straddling his lap. His hands rested on my waist, steadying me as I hovered above him.

“This position will let you control the depth and pace,” he explained. “Since this is your first time, I want you to learn how to take me at your own rhythm.”

He held the base of his cock with one hand and used the other to guide my hip. “Lower yourself slowly. Take just the tip first.”

I sank down carefully. The stretch felt different at this angle. It was much deeper and more intense. I stopped once the head was inside, breathing through it like he’d taught me. The pain of his cock stretching me once again burned in a way I began to enjoy.

“Good,” he praised. “Now take a little more… that’s it. Nice and slow.”

I kept going until I was fully seated on him again. The new angle made him feel even thicker. The burning feeling still lingering. His hands stayed on my waist, thumbs rubbing soothing circles.

“Now I want you to move,” he said. “Start by rolling your hips in small circles. Don’t bounce yet. Just get used to the feeling of me inside you like this.”

I did as he instructed, grinding in slow circles. Every movement rubbed my over sensitive clit against him, and made his cock press against that spot I enjoyed inside.

“That’s perfect,” he murmured. “Now try lifting up a little and sinking back down. Not too high. Just a few inches. Use your thighs.”

I followed his guidance, rising and falling in small movements. It felt clumsy at first, but his hands helped steady me, gently directing my rhythm.

“Use your hips more than your legs,” he coached. “Rock forward when you come down. Yes… fuck, just like that.”

His head tipped back against the chair as I found a better rhythm. One of his hands slid up to cup my breast through my bra, thumb brushing over my nipple.

“You’re doing so well,” he said, voice rougher now. “Look at me. I want to see your face while you learn how to ride me.”

I met his gaze, cheeks burning, and kept moving the way he showed me. Slow, rolling motions mixed with careful lifts. Every time I did something he liked, he gave me quiet praise or a slight squeeze with his hands.

“Faster now,” he instructed after a minute. “But don’t lose control. Keep it steady.”

I obeyed, picking up the pace. The wet sound of me moving on him filled the quiet lab, and I could feel another orgasm starting to build.

“That’s it. You’re learning so quickly.” Professor Grace’s grip on my waist tightened.

“Faster now,” Professor Grace instructed, his voice lower and rougher. “But stay in control. I want you to ride me just like that. Steady and deep.”

I obeyed, lifting myself a little higher and sinking back down with more purpose. The new pace made my thighs burn, but the way he throbbed inside me told me he was getting close. His hands gripped my waist tighter, guiding me when my rhythm started to falter.

“That’s it,” he groaned. “You’re taking me so well. I’m going to come soon, but I want you to keep going exactly like this until I tell you to stop.”

His hips began to meet mine in short, upward thrusts, helping me keep the rhythm. One of his hands slid down to my ass, squeezing firmly as he pulled me down onto him harder.

“Clench around me when you come down,” he said, breathing heavier now. “Yes… fuck, just like that. You’re going to make me come.”

I could feel him twitching inside me, his breathing turning ragged. He looked up at me through his glasses, eyes dark and focused.

“I’m close,” he warned, voice low. “When I tell you, I want you to stay all the way down and just grind on me. Don’t lift up.”

A few seconds later his grip on my waist tightened.

“Now,” he grunted. “Stay down.”

I sank fully onto him and started rolling my hips, grinding down exactly the way he liked. The pressure against my clit was perfect, and within seconds I felt a new orgasm building again. My thighs trembled as I kept moving, chasing it.

“Oh—fuck,” I gasped, my rhythm stuttering as the pleasure suddenly crashed over me. My walls clenched hard around him, pulsing as I came, grinding through every wave.

Dr. Grace moaned loudly beneath me, his head tipping back as my orgasm pushed him over the edge. He pulsed deep inside me, his hips jerking up in short, desperate thrusts while he held me down. A broken moan escaped him, it was low and strained, as he came hard.

“Fuck… just like that,” he breathed, voice shaking. “Don’t move. Let me finish.”

I stayed pressed against him, both of us riding out the aftershocks. His chest rose and fell heavily beneath me, and after a long moment, his grip on my waist finally loosened.

He looked up at me again, eyes soft behind his glasses, and let out a shaky exhale. He reached up and gently brushed a strand of hair from my face, thumb stroking my cheek.

“You did so well,” he murmured, still slightly breathless. “I’m so proud of you.”

Professor Grace stayed inside me for a moment longer, both of us catching our breath. His hands had loosened their grip on my waist, and now they moved in slow, soothing strokes up and down my back. When he finally looked up at me, his expression was still flushed.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

I nodded, still a little dazed. “Yeah. I’m more than okay.” I breathed out a sigh of exhaustion and pleasure.

He carefully lifted me off his lap, helping me stand on shaky legs. The second he slipped out of me, I felt empty. He kept one hand on my waist to steady me, then reached over to grab a few tissues from the desk. He was gentle as he cleaned between my legs, his touch careful and tender.

“Sit down for a second,” he murmured, guiding me back onto the edge of the lab table. He disposed of the condom and tucked himself back into his jeans before turning his attention fully to me.

He stepped between my legs again, but this time there was nothing sexual about it. His hands came up to cradle my face, thumbs brushing lightly over my cheeks as he studied me.

“How are you feeling?” he asked. “Any pain?”

I shook my head. “A little sore, but not bad.”

He nodded, looking relieved. “That’s normal. It might be a bit uncomfortable tomorrow, but it should pass quickly.” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead, lingering there for a second. “You did really good. You took me so well.” 

The praise made my chest feel warm. He reached down, and began to button up my cardigan for me.

Finally, when he was done, I leaned forward and rested my forehead against his chest, suddenly feeling a little shy now that everything had slowed down. He wrapped his arms around me without hesitation, one hand gently rubbing my back while the other cradled the back of my head.

We stayed like that for a while, quiet. His fingers combed slowly through my hair, and every so often he’d press a kiss to the top of my head.

“You sure you’re alright?” he asked again after a minute, voice low. “I know that was a lot for your first time.”

“I’m sure,” I mumbled against his shirt. “It was amazing.”

He let out a soft breath, almost like he’d been holding it. “Good. I agree.” He pulled back just enough to look at me again. “Do you want some water?”

I smiled a little. “Water would be nice.”

He nodded and stepped away to grab a bottle from his bag. When he came back, he handed it to me and watched as I drank, his eyes still soft but a little uncertain now that the intensity had faded.

After a moment, Dr. Grace rubbed the back of his neck, looking thoroughly sheepish.

“I, uh… probably shouldn’t have let that happen,” he admitted, though the smirk tugging at his mouth ruined any attempt at sounding sorry.

I tilted my head, giving him a look. “Bit late to start pretending you’re well-behaved now.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, eyes sparkling. “I was trying to be professional. Clearly didn’t work out very well.”

I grinned, trailing my fingers down his chest. “I think it worked out perfectly, actually.”

He raised an eyebrow, amused. “You would think that.” He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his thumb brushing my cheek. “You’re very good at encouraging bad decisions.”

I leaned into his touch, voice sweet. “Only when the bad decisions feel this good.”

He shook his head, smiling as he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to my forehead.

“Alright,” he murmured, voice low. “Let’s get you cleaned up before I make any more very bad decisions.”

Dr. Grace helped me off the table, his hands steady against me. We cleaned up in near silence. Me tugging my skirt back into place, running a hand through my almost dry hair. Him wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and straightening his shirt and tie. The lab was stuffy, and smelled like sex and antiseptic. I grabbed paper towels and wiped down the edge of the lab table while he disappeared into the small adjoining bathroom for a minute.

When he came back, he looked almost composed again, though his hair was still slightly mussed.

I returned to the lab table and started gathering my scattered flash cards and notes, trying to ignore the faint ache between my legs and the way my thighs still felt shaky and a little sticky. Most of the cards were crumpled or out of order. I stacked them quickly, cheeks hot.

Professor Grace had already returned to his desk, quietly rummaging through his bag like nothing had happened.

A sharp knock broke the quiet. Both of ours eyes met, and we shared a quick horrified glance, before our attention snapped to the door.

My father’s voice came through, as the door opened.

“There you are! You weren’t answering your phone, and the library’s dark and empty. I was starting to worry you didn’t show.”

Dad stepped inside, eyes immediately landing on Professor Grace. The shift in his expression was instant, curious, as he assessed. Professor Grace went very still behind his desk. I froze with a handful of flash cards, my stomach dropping straight through the floor.

“Oh. Um, yeah sorry,” I managed, voice too bright. “Just, um… busy studying. I forgot my pass, so P...Professor Grace let me in. He let me use his lab to study too.”

Dad’s gaze flicked between us. “He did, did he?”

He started walking toward me.

The air felt thick. I kept packing my things, shoving cards and notes into my bag with clumsy fingers while Dad watched. Professor Grace stayed at his desk, but I could feel the tension radiating off him even from across the room. Every rustle of paper sounded too loud.

When my bag was mostly zipped, Dad nodded toward the door. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

We were almost out when I paused. “Oh, just a second, Dad.”

I turned and walked back to Professor Grace’s desk, my back to my father. Professor Grace looked up at me over the rim of his glasses, one eyebrow slightly raised, cautious.

“Thanks for letting me borrow this,” I said softly, just loud enough for him to hear.

I reached out, palm open, and let my black lace panties drop into his large hand.

His eyes widened. For one frozen second he just stared, then his fingers snapped closed around the delicate fabric. Color flooded his face, creeping up his neck. He looked like he’d been slapped.

“Oh. Uh. You’re welcome,” he choked out, voice strangled.

I tilted my head, sweet as anything. “I’ll see you Monday?”

He coughed, trying and failing to sound normal. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you next week.”

I turned and walked back to my father, who was waiting by the door with a faint frown. As we finally stepped into the hallway, he glanced back once.

“Is he one of your professors? I didn’t think you were taking molecular biology this year.”

I smiled to myself, the taste of him still faintly on my tongue.

“He’s not.”

.・✫・゜・。..・✫・゜・。

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