#prof!joel

The UK rarely got warm days, especially in September, but for some reason the universe decided move in day was going to be a million degrees. You and Kelsey heaved box after box up the stairs of your new apartment complex. Sweaty was an understatement. And of course you were on the third floor with no lift.

“Do you… do you think we’ll ever feel cool again?” Kelsey huffed, wheeling what you hoped was the last suitcase through the door. You wiped your forehead with the back of your hand, wrinkling your nose at the amount of moisture that came off. “Please tell me there’s nothing else?” No sooner had you said those words, the door to the flat next door opened, revealing a tanned, toned looking Ken doll of a man. All muscles, abs and blonde.

Kelsey straightened up, frantically brushing fly-aways down and tugging at her now damp tank top.

The guy leant on the door frame of his flat and flashed you both a Ryan Gosling style grin. “You ladies need a hand?”

You had to restrain yourself from an eye roll. Sure, he was hot, but it was textbook pickup lines. Plus you were way too hot for sex. Kelsey didn’t seem to agree. She put on her best sex eyes, biting her lip.

If you weren’t careful you’d end up unpacking this whole flat yourself.

“I think we’re…”

“I could use some help,” Kelsey interrupted you. She gave you a quick, stern look, before looking back at the guy.

“I got some help in here,” the guy gestured to his apartment, looking Kelsey up and down.

“One sec,” Kelsey held up a finger to him, turning to you, whispering, “I’ll love you forever if you let me go with him. I’ll help unpack later, I promise.”

You shrugged. “Have fun. But if you’re not back in two hours I’m calling the police and assuming you’ve been murdered.”

Kelsey beamed. “Thanks, you’re the best.”

The guy held his hand out, which she took, and they disappeared into his flat.

You looked at all the boxes strewn around the living room. That was a job for tomorrow, when you didn’t feel like you were going to melt. You took your suitcase and dragged it into your bedroom. At least this room could be unpacked.

Just as you unzipped it, you heard the unmistakable moan then thud of what you assumed was Kelsey’s back against the wall. Shower. You would have a cold shower first.

Kelsey returned an hour later, looking suitably satisfied. You’d had a shower, unpacked most of your stuff and were now lying on the sofa with a handheld fan directly on your face. You raised you head as she walked in.

“Any good?”

“Useful,” was all she said, before disappearing into the bathroom.

You took that as she’ll be spending a lot of time next door.

-

The first lecture of a new course always felt like starting school all over again. A bunch of new people in a classroom not really knowing what they’re doing there. Kelsey had decided that lecture number one is always useless and opted instead to stay in bed. You didn’t argue with her. She was the kind of girl who walked to the beat of her own drum. An admirable if slightly irresponsible trait. But who were you to judge?

So you really did feel like the new girl. You sat at a desk relatively close to the back. It was still early so all the good seats hadn’t been taken yet. Just a few keen beans right at the front, then one other guy on your row.

You rummaged in your bag, with that awful feeling that you’d forgotten something. Shit, laptop. And you didn’t have a notebook. Not a good start. You contemplated asking the guy on your row if he had a spare piece of paper, but he looked so blazed that you’re not sure he would even know what class he was in. Instead, you figured it was early enough in the class to rush to the nearest supply cupboard, which you hoped was in plains sight.

You grabbed your bag and rushed to the door, not seeing the figure walking in.

“Fuck!” You collided with his body, the coffee in his hand now all down your dress. You looked up to see who the poor student was whose drink you were now wearing and your heart sank.

This man looked close to 50, but a very good 50. His hair was tousled and he had a strong jawline, accentuated by his rough beard. There were mature students, of course, but the feeling in your stomach told you this wasn’t a student.

The man took a couple steps back, glaring down at you with a dark look in his eyes. “Class hasn’t started yet.” His Southern drawl caught you off guard. American? Your body couldn’t decide if it was anxious, sick or horny – or a combination of the three.

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry. I was just… I forgot my laptop. I can get you another coffee,” you rambled.

The man pushed past you, setting his bag on the desk. He wasn’t dressed like your previous professors had. He was wearing a dark blue t-shirt, tight around his arms, and jeans. He took a pad out of his bag, ripped out a couple of pages and held them in your direction. You took them, unsure whether you should go back to your seat or go to the bathroom and clean up the mess your dress was now in. He decided for you.

“Sit.”

The embarrassment that now engulfed you was unbearable. You stank of coffee and your dress that was once red was now slightly brown and damp. And he hadn’t even asked if you were alright. Dick, you thought. What a shitty term this is going to be.

Other students were now filing in, so you went back to your original desk, thankful you were in the back. It didn’t stop people from turning to look at you. This was your new reputation. Fuck, why couldn’t Kelsey have been here? You envied her choice to stay in bed and wished you’d done the same.

“Now that most of you are here, I’ll start. I’m Professor Miller. I’m taking your English lit classes this semester. Maybe next ‘f you’re lucky.”

Who did this asshole think he was? Attractive, sure. Asshole, definitely. A rage started to burn in your stomach. You’d apologised to him.

“’f you’ve done the summer reading you’ll know we’re covering The Great Gatsby this term. I dunno what it’s about. Never read it. Your first assignment is to write me an essay explaining the plot.”

He leant forward, hands on his desk. “Any questions?”

You frowned. Maybe another degree was a mistake. This seemed like it was going to be a massive waste of time.

“You,” he gestured in your direction. “’s there a problem?

“No, I…”

“Good. This isn’t a class to sleep through. ‘f you’re not gonna take it seriously, get out.”

He gave you a look. It was a look that said ‘don’t fuck with me’. The rage that had been bubbling inside you was now full on erupting. Did he really think he could humiliate you in front of a new class and not get something in return? Your eyes quickly flickered to his hand. No ring.

You smirked, folding your arms. Heat settled at your core. You thought you saw some of that in his eyes. They were black, rage mixed with something else. You held his stare for a moment longer. He was the first to break.

He went behind the desk. You stood there, awkwardly playing with the hem of your dress. The breeze you felt from the lack of underwear sent a shiver down your spine.

Professor Miller opened a draw and took out your thong. Warmth rushed to your cheeks. Shit. Here we go.

He held it up to you, balanced on one large finger. You couldn’t help imagining what that finger would feel like, helping relieve the tension that was building in your core.

“This funny t’ you? Some sorta joke?”

“No,” you mumbled, your confidence wavering.”

“Speak. Up.”

“No,” you repeated, meeting his eyes and wishing you hadn’t.

“Don’t get all shy on me now, babygirl.” He smirked and took a step towards you. You could feel wetness pooling at the nickname.

“You think it’s a good idea t’ give your professor your panties?”

This was swiftly turning from payback on him to payback on you. You weren’t having that.

“Yeah, thought you looked tense. Might give you something to relieve all that pressure.” The confidence was coming back. He raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting an answer. He was right in front of you now, the thong balled in his hand. You looked him in the eye, noticing the anger in his dark eyes. Not just anger, something else. Your eyes flickered down, to the now growing bulge in his jeans. Fuck. You tried to not let your shock give you away. He was huge. When you looked back at him, he had a cocky look on his face. You didn’t like it.

You used your last ounce of courage to trace a finger along his length. He sucked in a breath and before you could react, he hand was on your throat. You managed a squeak, before his other hand was under your dress. He was slow with his movements. He was teasing you. Shit.

His hand grazed your thigh. Just an inch higher and he’d feel how wet you were. “You me t’ relieve some pressure?” You tried to nod but his grip was too tight on your neck. He smirked. “Good girl.”

Finally his hand reached your clit. He brushed a finger over your core, so lightly but enough to make your knees weak. You gasped. Seeming satisfied that you wouldn’t move if he let go, he moved his other hand from your neck to your tit. You bit your lip as he pinched your nipple between his thumb and finger.

“You wanna cum for me, babygirl?”

You were his now. Any control you’d had in this situation was gone. He made sure of that.

He chuckled when you nodded and got to his knees. He pushed your dress up above your hips and pressed his lips to your centre. You nearly collapsed at the sudden contact. You had to grip hold of the desk, back still pressed against the wall, to top yourself from crumpling. He ran his tongue over your clit, one long movement, then kissed the inside of your thigh. You groaned. That one stroke left you begging for more. You knew how wet you were. You wanted him inside you.

“Fuck me.”

Professor Miller chuckled. “So desperate for me. So wet, babygirl.”

He licked your clit again, small and quick this time, repeating until you felt like you couldn’t take it anymore. You moaned. You were rapidly closing in on climax. Just before you could, he stopped. He stood up and you nearly cried. You were aching for his touch. Aching to finish what he’d started. You moved to finish yourself, but he grabbed your wrist before you could.

“Kneel.”

Your face was hot. You didn’t take in the words he was saying. Your thoughts were clouded by the pain in your core. “Please,” you begged. It was shameful, embarrassing. He’d done it again.

“I said, kneel.”

You did as you were told this time, kneeling down in front of him. He removed his belt and jeans, letting them slip to the floor. He wasn’t wearing underwear. You gasped. You didn’t mean to. He was so big. Seeing it behind clothes was one thing.

“You wanted t’ relieve my pressure, right?” he said, his voiced laced with confidence and cockiness.

“You didn’t relieve mine, Professor”

He lifted your chin with one finger. “Patience, babygirl.”

You wrapped your fingers around his length, taking it all in. It was your chance to make him suffer now, but you didn’t think he’d let you.

You ran your tongue across the underside of his cock and you felt his body tense. His fingers knotted in your hair and he pushed your head forward. When he slid into your mouth, he let out a guttural growl. You felt wetness trickle down your thigh. Asshole.

You pumped him back and forth, deeper and deeper each time.

“Can you take it all?”

You slid your lips all the way down his cock until it hit the back of your throat. He groaned as you released him. “That answer your question?” you looked up at him with doe eyes. His grip in your hair tightened.

“That pretty little mouth of yours doesn’t shut up, does it?”

You licked him again. You picked up pace with your hand, pumping him faster. You wanted to make him cum. You wanted him to think about this tomorrow. Make the lecture as difficult as possible. He groaned again, his breathing getting heavy. He was close.

You put your mouth back round his cock, still pumping with your hand. That did it. He spilled onto your tongue, moaning your name, hand tight in your hair. He jerked his hips into you.

You pulled out, swallowing. He looked a mess. Hair stuck up, face pink, panting. You smiled smugly. He didn’t finish you, but you won this time. You were now sitting rent free in his brain. Blowjobs and summer dresses. And you were sure this wouldn’t be the last. He would give you your release.

You stood up, smoothing down your dress. Professor Miller pulled up his jeans and fastened his belt. Your thong was now on the floor. Before you could pick it up, he got there first.

“I think I’ll keep this.” He tucked it into his jeans pocket.

He moved behind his desk, sitting down in the chair you couldn’t help but picture fucking him in.

“You can go,” he said, looking at his laptop. But you weren’t done.

You put your hands on his desk, leaning over to make sure he could see down your dress. “Hey, professor?”

He looked up, then down. You smiled. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten you didn’t make me cum.”

His eyes blackened and he shifted in his chair. You took a piece of paper from his desk, wrote your number and handed it back.

“Send me something nice,” you said, before turning to the door.

As you reached for the handle, you heard, “It’s Joel.”

Tag list:

She flopped down next to you, pulling your blanket over her lap. You wrinkled your nose.

“Have you showered?”

“No, why do I smell?” She held her arm up and took a quick sniff, answering her own question. “Gross.”

“You know you haven’t been to a single lecture?”

Kelsey shrugged. “I’ve done it before, I’ll do it again. Plus, you can catch me up, right?” She winked.

“Sure. There’s an assignment due next week.”

Kelsey pulled herself up. “Shit, on what?”

“The Great Gatsby. Professor wants an essay explaining the plot because he’s never read it.”

“You’re joking?”

“Nope.”

You sat in silence for a second, before you broke it with, “Want to go shopping?”

Kelsey groaned. “Normally it’d be a yes, but right now a tiny army are battling in my head and I’m running on beer and 2 hours of sleep.”

-

You’d saved up a bit of money over the summer, doing odd jobs here and there, so had some cash to spare. And some new clothes were step one of your plan.

The first shop you went to was teeming with summer dresses. You picked out a couple of red options, to replace the coffee-stained one, plus some blue and a little purple slip that you were sure was probably pyjamas or lingerie. It brushed your thigh, just short enough to fuck with an asshole, but still be kind of appropriate for uni.

You decided that was your choice for Monday morning. Start the week off right.

Professor Miller was already setting up when you walked in. No one else had arrived yet, which was intentional on your part. You wanted to be noticed. You wanted to tease.

“Morning, professor,” you said, as you passed him.

He grunted, not looking up from his papers.

You didn’t take your usual spot at the back corner. You sat in the middle, in plain sight. You took your essay from your bag and walked to his desk. The paper made a satisfying swoosh as you slid it under his nose. He looked at your then. That same dark look from day one in his eyes. His lips parted and you caught his eyes look you up and down. It was so quick that if you’d blinked you’d have missed it. When you leant over his desk, you revealed just the right amount of cleavage. He pressed his mouth into a line.

“My essay,” you said. As you walked back to your desk, you felt his eyes follow you.

Other students filed in, adding their essays to yours. Professor Miller didn’t look at you again.

He didn’t look at your for the rest of the lecture. It must’ve been hard, seeing as you were right in front of him. His eyes flickered onto you once, but just as soon as he’d looked, he turned back to the board behind him. You decided that this wasn’t good enough. While everyone was focused on a written task, you raised your hand.

Professor Miller’s eyes blackened as he acknowledged your hand. “What?”

“Sorry professor, can I use the bathroom?”

He grunted, which you took as a yes.

You stood, making sure you held his eye as you walked past him to the door. He looked pissed. Good.

In the bathroom, a wicked thought crossed your mind. You used the courage and anger that had built up since that first lecture and took off your black lace thong. You tucked it down into your bra so it was hidden. When you went to hand in your written task, you slipped the thong between the papers and put it in a plastic wallet. Sure, it was risky, but if it worked, the payoff would be perfect. Thank god for plastic wallets. You added it to the pile with everyone else’s and were dismissed for lunch.

A small doubt began to play in your mind as you sat down to eat your lunch. What if you’d got the wrong idea? What if you got kicked off the course? He was an asshole. He could report you, then what? Why did you have to be so stubborn and confrontational?

These thoughts only worsened when you stepped back into class to see Professor Miller, a look of pure rage, hands balled into fists, knuckles white, sat behind his desk. He glared at you when you walked in and continued to until you sat down. If he didn’t stop, other people would start to notice.

Thankfully, he didn’t acknowledge you for the rest of the afternoon. But that feeling of doubt stayed in your mind. You felt like you were going to throw up, but you couldn’t ask to leave. You didn’t want to draw any more attention to yourself. He’d looked pissed. What if he’d reported you already?

Class ended and all you wanted to do was run home. But Professor Miller had other ideas. As you headed for the door, you felt a large hand on your shoulder.