#morningspell

“Samael, Sabrina,” Professor Morningstar urged on.

She shook herself from her reverie. “Yes! Um… Samael is a fallen angel, but he later became a common name for Satan in Midrash and Kabbalah. He was an archangel, a destroyer, a seducer…”

“Yes, Sabrina. Very good.”

Her heart stopped, breath catching in her throat as he gave her a soft expression that could’ve been one of pleasure. Was that truly heat she saw in his eyes?

Sabrina could scarcely pay attention for the rest of the class. At least she’d made it over halfway through this time without fantasizing so deeply that she lost all track of where she was. That happened. Often.

God, Professor Morningstar was delicious. Sabrina watched him walk and move and breathe. Listened to the gravel he occasionally injected into his voice.

Oh god.

Fuck. She wanted him.

His strong arms bulged beneath the cotton and polyester of his shirt, and his rolled up sleeves showed forearms that were stronger than any of the boys’ Sabrina had been dallying with. Bigger than Nick’s, possibly bigger than Caliban’s. They were beautiful boys, but this was a large, gorgeous man. With experience, and years, and knowledge.

Sabrina shifted in her seat, biting her bottom lip.

Professor Morningstar dismissed the class fifteen minutes early, yet it took Sabrina some time to catch up with it all. Most of the students had left by the time she realized she ought to be packing her things away.

The professor sauntered over, the natural bulge in between his legs highly noticeable through his pants. He stroked a hand down his tie.

“Sabrina, may I have a word?”

Heat flushing through her, she nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

He sat on a table in front of her, angling himself so that his body seemed open and inviting, legs slightly widened. Oh god, she was going to have a heart attack right here in classroom 301 on the third floor of Baker at freakin’ Greendale College.

“Sabrina, I’ve noticed you seem off lately. Is everything all right?”

Of course. Of course he had to ask that. Oh no. Despite her predicament, heat pooled in between her legs, and she curled her toes in her Oxfords. Professor Lucifer Morningstar was taking time to talk to her, and in private.

She shifted in her seat, hoping her tartan skirt wasn’t too wrinkled. Did her tights actually pull together her outfit? Was her blouse cute enough?

Maybe it didn’t matter because now Professor Morningstar was tugging at his tie, and all her attention was on him once again. He began to undo the accessory with a huff, seemingly bothered by it, as if he were tired with it being the end of the day and all.

Sabrina licked her lips, and nearly forgot she had a question to answer.

“Oh, right. Yeah. Yeah! Everything’s fine. It’s fine, totally fine.”

“Are you sure? I notice your gaze—hmm, shall we say?—wandering.”

“W-wandering?”

“Particularly whenever I’m moving about the classroom.”

She tried to make a face as if this was nothing, just a small problem, or even a joke.

“Ha! No, no, everything’s great. I mean, why wouldn’t I look at you? Gotta pay attention in class, you know?”

She finished putting her things in her bag and tried to get up.

Professor Morningstar slid off the table, standing before her, making her crane her head all the way up. She couldn’t meet those stormy eyes, so she settled for looking at his nose.

“That’s the thing. You’re distracted.”

“Pfft! Why would I be distracted?”

Lucifer finished undoing his tie as he blocked Sabrina’s exit. The bastard probably didn’t even know what he was doing. Why was he doing this? And why in front of her? Was he just tired and ready to go home? Did he not want to talk to her? Were her grades slipping and she didn’t know about it? Did she even really care?

Right now she was so close to running back to her dorm and getting out her vibrator her friend Prudence had gotten for her. It didn’t matter if she would have to push past him.

Maybe she should try to push past him. His strong arms would grab her, hold her…

“I’m wondering if it’s something to do with me,” he clarified.

“You, sir?”

His smile deepened, and she saw a darkening heat in his eyes. “Well, I am devilishly handsome.”

A strange high-pitched laugh left Sabrina before she could hold it in. “Why would you say that?”

“Well, it seems only natural, seeing as I’m sure you know you’re absolutely stunning.”

Sabrina couldn’t breathe. She gulped.

“What?”

“Oh, come now, Sabrina, don’t play coy with me.”

She couldn’t say anything, just found herself backing up towards one of the tables behind her, her breathing heavy. He slowly advanced, like a big cat who had found its prey.

“I don’t—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He began to undo the buttons on his shirt, and she swallowed hard. She bumped into the table, gave a surprise squeak and looked behind herself. When she faced forward again, he was right before her. She leaned back, trying not to breathe in his overwhelming scent: a heady manly musk, overlaid with strong leather, and cardamom, and amber wood. Was that his natural scent or just cologne? Fuck, it was making her legs weak. It’s probably cologne, she told herself, but it would in no way surprise her if it wasn’t.

“Yes, you do,” he intoned, voice a low gravel.

His shirt was fully unbuttoned now, and he smirked, chest rising and falling with unbridled pride. She just stared at all that skin, gripping the table so she wouldn’t reach out and grip his shirt.

Yeah, he’s hot, she thought, but he’s off-limits.

God, in that moment she didn’t even care. Sabrina reached for him, and with him holding her up, their lips met in a rush of heavy breaths, and teeth, and tongues. Before Sabrina could even process what was happening, just feeling delight burn through her entire body, she was being placed on the table. Professor Morningstar wrapped her legs firmly around him, and he pulled back.

“How’s this?” he asked. “More comfortable? After all, you are so very short.”

And god, she loved being short, especially with how massive he was.

“And you’re so… big.”

His hips pressed against her, slowly rolling and grinding. She took in a stuttered series of sharp gasps.

“You’re right. I am.”

“Are we—?”

“Hush, Sabrina.”

With one hand in her hair, the other traveling up her skirt, he kissed her again. Sabrina felt over his hard torso, even rubbing and pinching at his nipples. She felt a growing hardness pressing in between her legs. Oh god, no. She wanted to have sex with him, but she hadn’t shaved her legs in two weeks. Sabrina whined in the back of her throat in frustration, and Professor Morningstar took this as encouragement.

His lips were warm and soft against hers, fierce with the way they moved. He inhaled her scent with impassioned intensity, and she found herself doing the same for him. He sucked at her mouth, hungry for her, and, lips parted now in a wild rush of need, he attempted to put his tongue in her mouth. Sabrina fought back. It was no use. He overpowered her, and sensual warmth shot from her mouth, down to her chest, where her nipples became stiffened peaks. Then it stabbed lower, leaving her flush with heat, and the throbbing burn of her arousal traveled up to her stomach. The strength of her need had her light-headed.

Sabrina took advantage of having Professor Morningstar’s tongue in her mouth, and sucked on it, even tried to nip.

A deep groan left the professor, and Sabrina shifted against him. His impossibly large hand fondled her ass, while his other one was palming at her breasts.

Sabrina reached out for him, hands pulling the ends of his shirt out from his pants, and then running up and down the hot length of him.

Unthinkingly, Sabrina fisted a hand in his soft curls, holding on tightly, while her other hand was trying to undo his belt (which didn’t work well at all). A growl radiated from him, and he pulled back, seemingly reluctant. Still, his hands grabbed and squeezed.

Breathing heavy, Sabrina looked up at him, a line of spit connecting them for a bit before dropping down onto her chin.

“Do you know what you’re getting into?”

She grabbed at his hands, and then pulled. He took the hint and removed them, and then he further took the hint when she pushed at his chest. He stepped back from her. Sabrina used her newfound space to take her blouse off, leaving herself in only a white lace bra. She grinned at him, which he returned with a pleased smile, eyes burning hot with need.

“I certainly do, sir.”

“Call me daddy,” he ordered in a soft, but needy tone.

A spear of heat plunged through her, and, she said emphatically, eyes only for him, “Daddy.”

“On your knees,” he commanded.

She tilted her head at him, and smirked. “You read my mind.”

“Oh?”

“I was already about to do that.”