#professor!leon

You sat on the unpadded bench, feeling like a kid waiting outside the principal's office. You didn't want to see the man in the room, but you had to. Either that, or cry to your mother about how much you just wanted to come home. But she worked her ass off to get you to college, and you could hear her response in your head-- "If you come home, I'll ship you right back with a 'no refunds' sticker on your forehead." She'd said it once, and she'd surely say it again.

The door to your left opened. Some frat boy you recognized but didn't know stepped out, grumbling to himself. Clearly, he felt the same way about Professor Kennedy. No stars.

The man himself followed, eyes immediately finding you on the bench. "Hello," he said monotonously. "I'm ready for you."

You trailed the older man into his office, unable to help but feel like you were willingly entering one of Jigsaw's dumb puzzles. He closed the door behind you and sat down with a sigh before gesturing to the chair across the desk from him.

"Sit."

You sat.

"I have to say, I was surprised to see you name on the sign-up sheet," he mused, clicking away on his computer. "But at the same time, I'm not. You don't participate in class, you never talk to me, or anyone else, and your grades are dropping. I assume that's why you're here?"

"Yes, Professor," you squeaked.

He raised an eyebrow at you, the screen of his computer reflecting in his classes. "You sound scared," he stated.

"I-- I don't really want to be here," you explained. "I'd rather just... figure myself out."

"Well, if that's the case, you're welcome to leave, and I'll go eat my dinner," he replied calmly, nodding to the door.

"No, no, I'm not-- I'm not going to do that. I just... I want to."

Professor Kennedy hummed. "Then what can I help you with?"

"I'm struggling with, um..." You reached down for your bag with shaking hands, snatching up your notepad. "It's-- I don't understand the ballistics. At all."

"Why not?" He folded his hands neatly.

"Why don't I understand it?" You repeated. "It-- it didn't make sense."

"Of course it didn't. Otherwise, we wouldn't be here. I'm asking why you're hung up on it. Is it the material? The way I teach...?"

"I... I think it's the way you teach," you whispered. "You just... sort of talk."

He hummed again. "And that doesn't work for you."

"No. I-- I'm a visual learner."

"Well, let's visualize it, then." He picked up the typing once more. "Why don't you wheel yourself over here?"

You awkwardly scooted your chair around the desk, trying to see his screen while staying as far away from him as possible. Something in his atmosphere felt insufferably dark, like thick blood. Maybe it was the way he carried himeslf. Maybe it was the things he'd seen and carried with him.

"You can scoot closer," he mumbled.

"I can see."

He stopped typing, turning to you with an expressionless stare. "I wasn't asking," he calmly informed you. "Scoot closer."

You hesitated. He rolled his eyes, unamused, and grabbed the armrest of your chair, bringing you almost against his side. He didn't seem to give it a second thought. You, however, had already given it close to a dozen.

"Look." Professor Kennedy pointed to a diagram on the screen-- entry and exit holes. "They go in small, go out big, right?"

"Mhm."

"Why is that?"

"The-- they transfer energy, right?" You guessed. "And that tends to break things?"

"Correct," he confirmed in an almost praising tone. "What else can impact the size of the hole?"

"Um... the angle that they hit the surface at, the caliber, density--"

"Stop." The praise was gone. He turned hs chair to look directly at you. "You're not focused."

"What?" You blinked. "Yes, I am. Why do you think--"

"I worked in the field for almost thirty years. I've talked to hundreds of people who were scared out of their minds. Granted, you're in a very different position from them, but you're not interacting much, you won't look at me, your speech is weird, and let's not forget, you're shaking."

"Well, I'm nervous," you said, unable to hide the defensiveness in your tone. "So what?"

"No, you're not," he scoffed. "You're terrified. I want to know why."

"Professor--"

"Talk."

The word came out in a firm, yet disinterested tone, as if he was calling for the next person in line at a job he hated. His face didn't reflect that at all. His eyes, cold as they were, were soft, his jaw relaxed. He wasn't as upset as his tone suggested.

"...you scare me," you finally admitted.

"Do I scare you, or intimidate you?"

"I-Intimidate, I guess."

"Why?"

"I..." You looked up at him, then back down at your knees. "I don't know."

"You're a terrible liar," he stated. He picked your chin up, then leaned in close. "I said, talk."

You swallowed. "...you're just..." God, there was no way you could admit this. "You... physically, I know I have no chance against you in a fight. You'd whoop my ass before I could even swing. You always look mad, and when you talk, you sound mean. You have an aura that makes me feel like I can't breathe, but..."

He nodded along, as if you were talking about a movie villain and not him. "But...?"

"...but it's almost a little paternal," you whispered. "And that throws everything off."

"Paternal?" He chuckled, amused. "Me?"

You nodded. "It's... I don't know how else to explain it. But, there. I talked." You crossed your arms-- a rather pathetic finishing move.

"Yes, you did. Good job. Now, it's my turn to talk." Professor Kennedy turned off his monitor, then directed every ounce of his attention back to you. "You want to learn. I'm almost certain you don't blink in my lectures because you're scared to miss anything. You take so many notes, which I suppose makes up for your lack of participation, but your grades suggest otherwise. Which means you're getting distracted. And I don't think you're distracted by how intimidated I make you feel from your spot all the way in the back row."

Good God, he's onto you.

"I think this little 'paternal' part of my so-called aura is your problem," he mused. "You're so invested, but you're clearly thinking about other things, and I don't think I scare you that much from the back of the room. Am I correct?"

"...yes, Professor."

Well, it's time to go home and die. Good work, everyone, but the show's over. The tour is ending; the store is closed; whatever. It's time to not happen anymore. How in the holy hell could you bounce back from this?

"What do you suggest we do about this?" He asked. "Since you're learning so much, I'll let you take the reigns here."

"I... I have to find a way to get over myself so it's not getting in my way," you uttered.

"How?" He urged, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"...I don't know."

He bit his lip, nodding. You'd made it that far. It was more than he thought you'd make it, so why not give you a well-deserved boost?

"You need to figure out what sort of paternal this is," he explained. "Is it a role model sort of paternal, or something else? Then, address it accordingly. If it's simply a matter of seeing me as a role model, just... find a different role model. I'm not that sort of man."

You took a shuddering breath. "And if you're not?"

Professor Kennedy looked a bit stunned. That, he hadn't anticipated. "You're my student. That can't happen."

"I know."

"Then why did you suggest it?"

You opened your mouth, then closed it. That wasn't something you could admit out loud. Not even to someone your own age. You could not, in good conscience, like an older man the way you did.

"I---" You looked from him to the door, then stood up. "I need to go."

"What? Y/N--"

"I'm sorry."

"Y/N, come back!"

He stood up, rushing after you as you fled his office in embarrassment. You'd done that you yourself. You backed yourself into a corner; you all but said you liked him; you made the mistake. And how would you get yourself out of it? Just like you did with every other problem-- you ran away.

He finally caught you just as you made it to the back exit of the hall, grabbing your arm and stepping out into the parking lot with you. "You can't just run off," he scolded. "Stop and talk to me like an adult."

"I can't talk about this--" You tried to pull away, not even bothering to hide the quiver in your voice.

"Hey." The word came out much harsher than he intended, but it still caught your attention. You paused, only for a second, and he took advantage of it. He gently took you by your other elbow and turn you to face him, a kinder (however tired) look on his face. "It's okay."

"No, it isn't," you insisted, sounding rather pathetic. "It'll make things so awkward, and it's embarrassing, and I don't know if I'll be able to focus anymore."

"Yes, it is," Professor Kennedy countered. He ducked down slightly; just enough to force you into eye contact. "Do you think you're the first student who's had feelings for me?"

"I don't know," you sniffed.

"You're not." He spoke tenderly now. "It happens almost every year. I've just never had a student hide their feelings behind fear. But we'll treat this the same as we would with any other student: we're going to rationalize why we couldn't happen, accept that it might be awkward for a while, and move on."

"But--"

"Shh." He gave your arms a little squeeze and smiled, an actual smile. "Trust me on this. In three months, you won't even remember why you liked me."

Something in his smile soothed you a small amount. You knew your cheeks looked like apples, but your eyes didn't burn as badly as before. He should smile more, you thought. Then, I shouldn't think that.

"What if it's still awkward by the time the year ends?" You inquired in a small voice.

"Well, guess what? It'll be summer, and you won't have my class anymore." He shrugged. "It won't be awkward by then; I promise."

"...okay," you finally conceded, although you were certain it would be awkward until the end of the next great extinction.

"Good." Professor Kennedy smiled again-- a little wider this time. "Do you want to go back to my office and try to work through some more ballistics?"

"No," you answered. You'd actually love to curl up and die, but that wasn't an option. "I'll just go back to my dorm."

"All right, then. If you need more help, feel free to sign up for another time."

You didn't bid him goodbye. You scurried off like your life depended on it. When you were out of earshot, he sighed, shoulders sagging. If only he could take his own advice.

“I'm pregnant!” you shout with delight after bursting into Leon's office as he's grading exams at his desk. You grip the pregnancy test in your hand and hold it high in the air.

Leon’s head snaps up, his eyes widening and his eyebrows high. His mouth slowly curls into a proud smile. He rises from his chair and saunters over to you. His hands grip your hips and pull you possessively into his chest. He gingerly takes in your scent, nuzzling his face into your soft hair, inhaling gently. “Good girl,” he purrs, his voice dripping with affection as his hands delicately rub your body. “Mine. All mine.” His lips drop to your neck. He plants tender kisses to your delicious skin while his hands slide up your shirt, caressing your waist. His fingertips graze your still flat tummy. He coos against your neck, “my baby.” His mouth captures yours, a heated coupling of your lips. 

Your arms slide around his neck as you return his passionate kiss. You can feel his thick cock growing hard and pressing against your lower abdomen. The featherlight touch sends powerful bolts of desire straight to your core. You hear him chuckle darkly as he feels the heat radiating from you. He knows you want him just as much as he wants you right now. 

“Fuck…I need to fuck you. My slutty girl’s got me so fucking hard…” he growls and starts lifting your shirt. “Now that I know my baby is inside you…fuck, I won't be able to stop myself.”

You moan in anticipation, your breaths sharply quickening. Your pussy thrums with raw need, aching to feel his length fill you.

He tears your bra off, next, then takes your breast in his mouth, fondling the other with his hand. He groans hungrily. “Can't wait to drink from these delicious tits. Is my good little slut gonna let her professor drink her sweet milk?”

Your head lolls backward and you moan loudly, “uh huh…” You arch your back, pressing your tits harder to his face.

He groans in response. “Good girl. Such a good little slut.” He sucks on your plushy tits while he pulls your pants down. He quickly unzips his own and frees his erect cock. He lifts you and pins you to the door to his office, tugging your panties to the side and sliding his dick into your tight, wet core. He grunts out a deep moan. His cock head knocks on the entrance to your womb, sending shockwaves of pleasure and pain through you. He wraps your legs around his waist, pushing you harder against the solid wood door. 

He begins slow, yet hard thrusts. The door rattles with the movement and you wonder if there's anyone in the hallway to hear. Those worries quickly dissipate as his dick hits your g-spot. Electricity surges through your body as an orgasm crashes over you faster than you thought. You grunt and moan as your walls tighten. 

“Fuck yeah! Cum for me, baby girl. Cream my cock. God, you're so fucking hot. You like being knocked up by me, don't you? You love that you're my little slut carrying my baby.” His thrusts become more rapid and his lips latch on to your neck again, sucking hard, marking you, making sure everyone knows that you're taken. “You're mine, sweetheart. You're fucking mine and I'm never fucking letting you go.” He fucks you harder, faster, your own essence beginning to leak down onto his balls. 

“Ohhh,” you draw out in a moan, pleasure spiking in your body again. 

“Gonna cum again for me, baby girl? Gonna cream my cock with your slutty, little pussy?” He chuckles darkly and reaches one hand down to rub your oversensitive clit. You're near combusting…how is it so easy to cum again?

You gasp, another rapturous orgasm tearing through you. He keeps up his torturous pace, rubbing your clit even faster and thrusting harder against your g-spot. You scream, feeling the rush of warm fluid squirting out of your cunt and all over him. “Fuck!” You cry out. 

“Fuck yes baby, squirt all over me! Soak my fucking cock!” He thrusts inside you once more, cumming deep within your walls, spraying himself all over your cervix. He moans. “Ahhh…fuck…fuck yes…take my fucking cum like a good little slut.” He holds you still as the last of his seed spills into you, only letting you down once he knows he's filled you to his satisfaction. He groans and kisses you passionately. “Mmm gonna keep my good girl full of my cum all the time. Don't care if you're already pregnant.” He pecks your lips once more, then crouches down to kiss your belly. “Daddy's gonna take care of you, little one,” he whispers.

You smile lovingly at him, blushing at his tender gesture toward your unborn child. “I love you,” you blurt out before you can think. Your eyes widen and you hope against hope you didn't say it loud enough for him to hear. 

But he did. Leon freezes, each word you just spoke piercing his heart one at a time. His eyes slowly turn up from your belly that carries your precious cargo to your red face. He takes his time rising up, his hands gliding up your soft body as he goes. He inhales, taking in your delicious scent once more. When he's fully standing up straight, he cups your face and looks deeply into your eyes; you couldn't turn away from him if you wanted. For a while he just stares, your souls peering into each other. You've never felt more connected to him, more at peace. 

“I can't fucking breathe without you, sweetheart,” he confesses, giving each word its deserved time and emphasis. He presses his lips firmly to yours. “I fucking love you more than my own goddamn life.” He continues his heated kiss, his tongue massaging your mouth. 

Leon hardly lets you out of his sight from then on. As the months pass, your belly swells more and more. Leon struggles harder and harder to keep his hands off you, fucking you every chance he gets. You hardly know what it's like to be free of his cum anymore. He rubs and kisses your belly constantly, whispering to his baby as it grows inside you. “Daddy can't wait to meet you, little one,” he coos. 

The summer and your due date are approaching quickly. You’re still working in the library and one day, you're returning rented books to their places when a few bring you up to the stacks, way back in the reference section. Thankfully, your attire is one of the few things not impeding your mobility. With the summer heat, you choose a loose fitting maternity dress, light and flowy. You still huff a little, your legs working for two. You arrive in the back of the library on the second floor. Needing to catch your breath, you let go of the cart carrying the books and sit in one of the arm chairs. You gently rub your belly, taking deep breaths. “You're getting heavy, kid,” you whisper between huffs. 

You feel gentle hands on your shoulder from behind you. “Hey there, sexy,” you hear Leon's buttery soft baritone voice purr. His hands travel down and rub your body delicately, squeezing your breasts with a gentle tenderness. Then, he caresses your round belly and presses his lips to your neck.

You let out a soft moan and reach your hand up behind you to tangle your fingers into his hair. 

His hand slides further down and pulls the skirt of your dress up. “Tell me, gorgeous, are you wet for me?” He nibbles on your earlobe, his warm breath tickling your sensitive skin. His fingers rub your wet folds through your panties, finding them damp already. He chuckles quietly. “I knew it. Still such a good little slut for me. Carrying my child and still so fucking hot for my cock. You need me to fill you again, don't you, sweetheart?” He finds your clit, rubbing it tenderly and making you even more wet. 

“Ohhh…yes! Please!” You beg, rolling your hips to grind your cunt against his expert fingers.

Leon hums his approval. “Mmm such a cock hungry little slut.” He grabs your hand and helps you stand then gently bends you over the chair, making sure your swollen belly doesn't press against anything. He runs his hands along your body, marveling at the beauty: the love of his life, carrying his child; his child. There's a piece of him inside you and he knows you're his forever. No one else's. No one else will ever feel the sweet curves of your body like he does, feel your hot pussy cum like he does. He runs his hands along your belly, gently caressing his child through your womb. “God, you're so fucking sexy with my baby inside you. I think I'm gonna have to knock you up again, keep you full.” He grinds his hard cock against you through your clothes. 

He pulls your dress skirt up again and pulls your panties completely off then shoves them in his pocket. Leaning in, he whispers into your ear, “in case you need rest later and I need to get off.” He hums softly and slides two fingers into your tight cunt. 

You let out a hungry moan. 

“Shhh, baby girl. Can't be too loud. You're in a library, remember?” He curls his fingers, caressing your spongy g-spot. 

You gasp and sink your teeth into the cushion of the chair to stifle your moaning. Your breathing intensifies and you're thankful you're bent over and the baby isn't pushing on your lungs. 

Leon's free hand moves up your quivering body, fingers sliding up to caress your tender breasts. You're getting close when he slows and withdraws his fingers. You moan unsatisfactorily. He chuckles. “Sorry, sweetheart. I don't want to tire you out too much before I cum in you. I need you in good condition for our baby. But once our child is born, I'll be making you cum so many times you'll pass out. I promise.” He unzips his pants and lines his dick up with your entrance, sliding in carefully. 

Your pregnancy has heightened sexual pleasure for you. Hormones, you suppose. As soon as his cock is inside you, you're nearly cumming. 

“Little slutty pussy is ready to cum, isn't it?” he purrs with a quiet laugh. He begins moving inside you, slowly withdrawing almost all the way, then pushing back in. He rubs your ass tenderly then gives it a playful slap. 

You bite down hard on the cushion, your loud, hot moan vibrating into the soft fabric. You rock your hips back to meet his, impaling yourself on his cock just as much as he drives forward to fill you. 

“Spread your legs, baby girl,” he commands. 

You comply and inch your feet in opposite directions to widen the gap between your legs, granting him deeper access to your wet heat. 

He grips your hips and, with a growl, drives in harder. “Good girl. Such a good little slut for me. Gonna pump you full of my cum. You better stay quiet,” he whispers then reaches around to rub your clit. 

Tears start running down your face from so much pleasure overwhelming you as you try to keep yourself from screaming so loud the entire library hears you.

“Need you to cum on my dick sweetheart,” he whispers seductively, still circling your sensitive bud with the pads of his fingers. “Gotta squeeze me tight so I can stuff this slutty pussy with a nice creampie.” 

A few more rubs and you're cumming hard, trying to hold back from squirting, but considering the sensitive state of your body, you're not likely to win that fight. 

Leon is chasing his high, his one hand gripping your hip tightly while the other refuses to let up on your clit. He's fucking you harder now, driving into your cunt with abandon. His erratic rhythm draws out your orgasm until your liquid essence spurts out and coats his dick. He smirks, wearing it like a badge of honor. Finally, he sheathes himself fully inside you then explodes, cumming all over your walls. 

Both panting heavily, Leon gently presses his chest to your back, kissing your neck softly and caressing your belly. “Are you alright?” He asks. 

“I'm incredible,” you reply between gulps of air. Leon hears your labored breaths and quickly helps you sit down again. 

“Rest. When you've caught your breath, I'll bring you home,” he instructs gently. He zips himself back up and fixes your dress, then stands in front of you, keeping you covered from any prying eyes that may walk by. 

Once you've recovered, he helps you walk out of the library and to the car. He is completely uncaring of who might see a professor touching a very pregnant student so intimately. He makes no effort to conceal your relationship, wrapping an arm around your waist protectively, pulling you tight to his side, and gently rubbing your belly with his other. Every wandering eye you walk past stares but only for mere seconds before turning away, their owners fearful of offending Professor Kennedy. No one even dares whisper a word.

He brings you back to his home, your home, and helps you into bed. “Sleep, sweetheart.” He kisses your forehead then climbs in next to you, pulling your back against his chest, his hand resting on your round belly.

A few more weeks go by and before you know it, you're waking up in the middle of the night, your water broken! You turn over and shake your lover. “Leon! Leon, wake up! The baby-” a massive contraction cuts you off. You choke out a pained cry. 

Leon's eyes flutter open, after a few seconds, he realizes what's happening and snaps onto action, grabbing the hospital bag you two had prepared a few weeks ago then lifting you into his arms and carrying you to the car. 

You scream in the passenger's seat, clutching your belly as another contraction rips through you. 

“Breathe, baby girl!” Leon coaches. He reaches over and grabs your hand, wincing a little when he feels the death grip from you, spurred on by the pain. “It's going to be alright,” he reassures through gritted teeth. His foot presses harder on the gas pedal, he's eager to get you to a safe place to deliver, but also to finally meet the baby, to hold his child in his arms. 

Nine hours of labor later, and the obstetrician is holding a screaming newborn in his arms. “It's a girl!” He announces. 

You pant heavier than you ever have before, like you've run a marathon. Your lungs are burning, your body is sore and throbbing, but even as every pain nerve in your body fires on all cylinders, it's all worth it seeing that little life that you made inside you, crying and squirming around, signs of a healthy neonate. The staff quickly clean and assess her so they can give her to you. 

“APGAR 8,” you hear the doctor say to the nurses. You're not sure what it means, but he said it in a happy way so you assume it's a good thing. Like a well oiled machine, the staff clean and return the baby to you, placing her on your bare chest then laying a blanket over the two of you. She cries for a minute or two then settles, soothed by the warmth of her mother once more. 

Leon is right there and the rest of the world fades away. He kisses you passionately, then pecks a soft kiss to his daughter's head. “Our little girl…” he coos. 

You gently rub your baby's back. “She's perfect,” you whisper.

“...What should we call her?” He asks tentatively. His eyes meet yours.

You exchange a few ideas, but nothing seems to fit her. 

Then Leon suggests, “How about Danielle?”

You exchange smiles. It fits her perfectly so you nod in agreement.

“Fuck! I'm gonna cum!” the frat boy moans as he shoots his load inside you. You're not even sure you remember his name. It's something like Jason or Jeremy or…Jesse? Oh well; who cares? It's not like he even got you close to climaxing….not like with Professor Kennedy back at the end of last semester. God, that was the most incredible sex you've ever had! The memories of that day have been in your spank bank ever since. You had fucked him for a good grade but haven't really seen him since; you're not in his class or anything this semester so you don't really cross now.

The frat boy with the J-name releases your ankles from his shoulders and gets off you, wiping his cock dry with a towel he grabbed from his floor, one that likely has seen its fair share of jizz. He offers you the towel and you silently decline with a wave of your hand and a mildly scrunched face. You quickly dress, trying to suppress a look of disgust as you feel his cum oozing out of your cunt. You slip out of his room and go back downstairs to the party that's still going on, its guests seemingly unaware of but not likely to be surprised by the fact that you hooked up with one of the hosts. It's the Friday night before spring break so everyone is out partying. You grab another Soho cup and fill it with the concoction of punch and whatever alcohol with which it's been spiked then take a big swing, hoping to wipe the disappointing experience Mr J-name called ‘sex’.

Your heart skips a beat as you hear a few students talk about Mr Kennedy. It seems like they're all taking his class this semester. One of them calls your name. “Did you just hook up with James!?” A petite girl asks. She looks like she's too young to be drinking, yet still has a cup with the boozy punch in it. Her tone is accusatory, like she's jealous.

“James! That was his name!” You reply, more so to yourself than her. You keep walking, uncaring of her perturbed state. She doesn't know how lucky she is! She gets to see Mr Kennedy every day! Your mood progressively sours and you decide to leave the party early. You unlock the door to your dorm and dump your keys on the desk. You kick the door closed with your foot and mosey to your room.

As you lie on your bed, you replay your tryst with Professor Kennedy in your mind. Your hand travels along your body, touching and caressing. You knead and squeeze your breasts, remembering the feel of his dick inside you, thrusting hard and hitting your cervix like an aggressive salesman knocking on a door. You moan and kick your pants and panties off, hand trailing south towards your wet folds. You recall the feeling of him bending you over his desk and holding you down roughly as you start stroking your clit, the pads of your fingers doing their best to stimulate you like he could. You start to pant, the tension in your belly building steadily. Slick coats your fingers and leaks down your ass cheeks. You rub faster and faster, playing the sound of his voice in your mind again…

…“That's a good girl.” … “Choke on my cock like a - ah - good little slut. You want an A, sweetheart? Better - mf - suck this dick like your grade depends on it…

You inhale sharply and cum hard on your fingers. You lay there, boneless, for a moment before rising out of bed to clean yourself up. After you wash your hands, you climb back into bed and fall asleep.

Monday morning you stroll into the library to work the front desk; your student job since you've been going here. Since it's spring break, it's very dead on campus. There's maybe one or two graduate students scattered about the whole building. You lean your head on your knuckles while you sit completely bored, staring at your computer screen with the list of overdue books. It's your job to send out reminder emails to everyone who needs to return what they've rented. No one is going to read them today, you figure. Everyone is on vacation…except you. You decided to stay behind and make some easy money.

“Hey!” You hear a voice sharply rip you from your wandering thoughts. It was harsh, like the owner of that voice had already tried at least once to get your attention. You look up to see him on the other side of the circulation desk.

Your jaw briefly drops, followed by a quick recovery. You swallow hard and straighten up. “Professor Kennedy! What can I do for you?” you ask, a little too eagerly.

He smirks meanly. “I'm looking for the Litigator's Handbook of Forensic Medicine, Psychiatry, and Psychology. Volume 2,” he states, as if he's pissed off that it's not already in his hands.

You nod and quickly type the name into your computer to find where the text is. Shit. “I'm sorry, Professor…all our copies are out right now.”

The professor glares at you, like it's somehow your fault. You look into more detail on who has the books and realize one is due back today. “There should be one available later today,” you add, but know very well there's a high chance it just won't get returned. Still, you're willing to say anything to make him happy.

His glare neutralizes into an unreadable expression. Then, with just a hint of a smirk he replies, “great. Bring it to my office then.” He turns and walks out before you can protest and tell him the library doesn't deliver.

But an idea pops into your head and sends a jolt of arousal to your sex. Maybe he'll be grateful for that delivery…

After trying numerous times to contact the professor who has the book you need, you finally get a hold of her and retrieve the book. With a big, dumb grin on your face, you high tail it over to Professor Kennedy’s office. You knock eagerly on his door.

“Come in,” he calls from inside his office, his tone neutral. You open the door and see him behind his desk typing into his computer, his expression unreadable.

“Professor Kennedy, I brought you the textbook you were looking for,” you announce. His office isn't much different than when you were in it last time…naked and getting deliciously fucked by him. Your pussy throbs at the memories that come rushing back.

He gestures with his hand to come toward him without looking up from his computer. You walk to him, holding the textbook.

“Desk,” he commands, still engrossed in whatever he's working on. You set the book down and turn to leave, convinced you're not going to make any worthy progress with him. You let out a silent sigh and head for the door. “Did I say you could leave?” He asks. You spin around. He's finally looking at you.

You stare back at him, mouth agape. “Wh-what?” Your heart starts to race; your palms sweat.

He lets out a snort. “Desk,” he repeats with the slightest smirk. His eyes flicker to the surface of his desk, the very same one where you just dropped the book.

You don't realize you're holding your breath as you walk toward him. Before you can even hop up on his desk he grabs your hips tightly and pins you between his body and the edge of the desk.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he demands.

Your lips part only just slightly and his tongue is inside your mouth, attacking yours. Your rational thought is quickly slipping away as your fingers tangle into his hair. His hands slip underneath the hem of your shirt, rubbing your bare waist with his thumbs. The tingles shooting through your body could make you jump out of your own skin. You suck on his tongue, the memory of his dick in your mouth rushing back into your mind.

He slides his hands up further, pushing your shirt with it. He breaks the kiss only for a second to pull your shirt over your head and toss it to the side before roughly grabbing your breast through your lace bra and claiming your mouth again. You reach behind yourself and unclasp your bra. Before you can move your hands, he grips your wrists tightly and holds them behind your back. He kisses, licks, and even bites down onto your neck. “Did you think I wouldn't fucking find out?” he asks with a gruff whisper in your ear. He nips at your neck again.

“Wh-what?” You manage to gasp out. Your head falls to one side, giving him better access to your neck.

He laughs meanly. “I have eyes and ears all over this school, sweetheart.” He gently kisses your neck. “Don't think for a second that you could get away with fucking some dumb ass frat boy without me knowing.” He nips at your pulse, dragging his teeth across your neck. “Don't move,” he commands darkly and lets go of your hands long enough to remove his tie and use it to secure your wrists behind your back. He cups your face, kissing you hungrily again. One hand slides down and cups your breasts. You feel his erection straining in his pants and pressing against your hip. “I think I need to teach you another lesson, sweetheart.” He breaks the kiss and smirks wickedly.

He pushes you down to your knees and slowly unbuckles his belt then tosses it aside. He unzips his pants and frees his cock - God, it's bigger than you remember. He strokes it a few times and shoves it into your waiting mouth. Hands grip the sides of your face, pushing you further onto his shaft. He combs your hair with his fingers, holding it all back with one hand fisted tightly, forming a handle with which he can control your head. “That's my good little slut. Suck my fucking cock,” he growls as he fucks your face. “You love this don't you? Letting me fuck you again and you're not even in my class. Fuck. I've been waiting to fuck you again for months. Can't stop thinking about your sweet mouth and your tight pussy,” he coos and gently runs a finger down the side of your face. You fight to hold back the tears pooling in your eyes as you resist gagging on the fat dick in your mouth.

But he's right. You do love it, you crave it, you need it. You suck him greedily, ecstatic to even have the chance to gag on his dick. Precum coats the back of your throat and you moan loudly. Your pussy is throbbing, aching to be touched but with your hands tied behind your back, you can't touch it. His grip on your hair tightens and it makes you wetter. You can tell he's close, but before he can cum, he pulls your face away. He pants, looking like he wants to say something but is at a loss for words. He growls and pulls you up, spins you around and shoves you over his desk. You feel your pants and panties being yanked off of you together. His chest presses against your back, holding you in place against his desk, still covered with papers. You glance to the side and see the textbook you brought; your ticket back to Professor Kennedy and his magnificent cock. He slides his cock between your thighs, gliding under your cunt. He's teasing you. His shaft is coated in your slick, so much so it's about to start dripping down his balls.

“You're so fucking wet, sweetheart. Gonna cum all over my cock before I've even fucked you?” He runs his hands all over your naked body, reminding himself of what he believes belongs to him.

“Please! Please! Please! Fuck me, Professor! Please! Fuck! I can't take it!” You beg, a few tears leaking from your eyes. You feel like you'll spontaneously combust if you don't feel his cock fill you up soon.

A loud smack fills the air followed by a stinging on your ass cheek. More slick gushes from your dripping wet sex. “Ah, ah, ah, sweetheart. You don't call the shots. I do. And you still need to learn your lesson. So, for now, I'm gonna fuck your cute little thighs…nice and slow.”

It's torture as you feel his length slide back and forth between your thighs, ghosting your clit and sending jolts of pleasure through you but not nearly enough to cum. Your moans fade into whimpers and crescendo back into moans.

He plays with you for a while, never increasing his pace. You're crying, you're so desperate for release. “Tell me, sweetheart, was it worth it? Fucking that worthless frat boy?” He slaps your ass again. “Did he make you cum?”

You bite your lip. “...no…”

He laughs, as if he already knew the answer but it made it that much sweeter to hear it from your own lips. His hand rubs up your back and slides around your throat, squeezing gently and turning you on even more. “Did you let him cum inside you?” He asks, his voice dark and devoid of any humor. You know he's not going to like your answer.

“...yes…” you confess; you're certainly in no position to lie to him. Another smack hits your ass cheek along with that delicious sting. You don't need to see his face to know he's pissed. He rubs the spot tenderly then slaps it once more.

“Learn your lesson yet, sweetheart?” He asks, delivering another slap. His hips continue to move his dick between your thighs at a snail's pace.

You cry out for release. “What!? What is it!? What am I supposed to learn!?”

Leon stops moving and positions the head of his cock at your entrance, locked and ready to fill you with one thrust. He grips your waist with both hands, tightly, to keep you from pushing your hips back and impaling yourself on his cock before he decides to give it to you. He leans in slowly and gently whispers in your ear, “that you're fucking mine.” With that, he slams his cock inside you, fucking you ruthlessly. Your eyes roll back into your head. Finally, the addicting sensation of being filled by him is yours to savor once again. His fat, long dick hits your cervix over and over, rubbing your g-spot perfectly. It doesn't take you long to cum, screaming his name, panting, and gasping as you catch your breath. He doesn't slow his pace; instead he maintains, fucking you hard and fast as your walls contract and relax around him. He draws out your orgasm, reaching around to squeeze your throat again with one hand and rubbing your clit with the other. Where you were just parched for pleasure, you're now overstimulated, between his hard and fast thrusts and his rough circles on your clit, you're about to combust yet again. He leans forward once more, biting and sucking on your neck, leaving deliberate marks. “In case any other fucking frat boys get any ideas about touching you,” he growls. You cum again, the pain and pleasure enough to send you over the edge a second time. You're covered in sweat and your body is sliding easily on his desk.

Leon slams his hips forward hard, sheathing himself balls deep inside you as he cums, his dick exploding with jizz all over the entrance to your womb. He holds you on the desk with his hands as the last globs of cum shoot out from his tip. Then, he leans down and tenderly kisses your neck. He helps you up from the desk, releases your hands from his tie, and even helps you dress.

“You know, if it's any consolation, I don't even remember that frat boy's name,” you admit.

“James C. Harold,” Leon rattles off without hesitation.

Your eyes widen. “How did you…?”