#professor pascal

He knows he’s been scrolling through the pages for too long but he can’t stop himself. Ever since he took the position, he swore that he’d only ever read the reviews turned in at the end of the year because he loved improving on his style. But this was different. This was a hell hole that he didn’t realize he could spiral so easily down from just one review. At first, Pedro thought that he’d go on it to see the more honest reviews of his courses and teaching. You could only write so much on the evaluations without feeling guilty and this was a proper and free resource.

What he didn’t expect was to find almost no criticism of his classes and pretty much every comment discussing his looks and what the student would be willing to do for extra credit. He thought he was on the wrong website at the beginning but nope, this was the right one. Like all other things, Pedro was slow at first but then some comments became real suggestive and he began to read between the lines. But no matter what he read and understood, he never seemed to get a handle on one specific type of comment which only consisted of one word.

He’s not sure what to make of it and the thought is brushed aside when he hears a knock at his door. Pedro looks up and sees you standing at his doorway, paperwork in one hand and phone in the other. He doesn’t know what prompts him to do so but he immediately shuts off his laptop and tries to calm down, hoping that he isn’t blushing too hard from what he’s been reading.

“I’m about to go get some coffee, want anything?” You ask as you scroll through your phone and look up when he says nothing. “Professor?” You raise an eyebrow at him when he continues to stare at you.

“S-sorry I um, no. No thank you. And for the millionth time, just call me Pedro.” He huffs in irritation, and frowns when you roll your eyes at him like you always do and shake your head.

“Sorry, not trying to get caught calling professors by their first name. Your friend takes that too seriously and I’d rather not annoy him any further. Anyway, I’ll be in my office if you need anything. Oscar told me you’ve been falling behind again with grades and I’m almost done with his stuff so swing by if you need to drop anything.” You wait until he nods in confirmation before walking out towards the cafe and Pedro can’t help but feel his annoyance grow when you leave instantly.

He looks at his door as if you’ll appear again, meditating on the issue he’s been having for a while now. Every time he tries to convince himself to tell you how he feels, he remembers how difficult things could get for you. Even though he wasn’t on your committee or anything, he still knew how people would react should you get caught with him. He swears underneath his breath and turns on his laptop again, anger only rising when he remembers what he was searching before you came in.

Seriously, what the fuck was wrong with these people? He cringes at more reviews and curses the fact that the website was anonymous. He closes the page and tries to get his mind off of the weird reviews for a bit, working through some of the quizzes until he notices how late it is. Shoving the rest of the essay quizzes in his leather bag, Pedro takes the folder filled with multiple choice and walks out of his office. He heads towards Oscar’s office and knocks on it a few times. When no one answers, he looks at his watch and sees it wasn’t late enough for you to leave yet. Taking out the spare key his friend gave him, he unlocks the door and steps in, eyes immediately following the light of the side room where you are. He shuts the door behind him and makes sure you can hear him walk towards you.

As soon as he walks in, you look up and smile at him, making grabby hands towards him when you notice the folder he’s holding.

“Knew you wouldn’t resist,” you laugh when he smiles nervously at you and stands there long after you told him you’ll get them back to him in a day or two. When he doesn’t move, you put your pen down and tilt your head to the side.

“Anything else I can help with?” You ask again, watching his eyes as they look around the room as if the answer was in here somewhere. But he never responds and instead, he puts down his bag and walks towards your couch. You say nothing as he sits back and stares up at the ceiling. As soon as he starts untying his tie and unbuttoning the first three buttons of his shirt, you knew something was off.

“Alright, what’s wrong?” You push everything aside and grab your coffee, taking a sip as you waited for him to finally acknowledge you.

“Can I ask you something?” Pedro asks and you can tell from his tone that this was something serious. You smile deeply and nod at him, a part of you hopeful for whatever he was about to throw your way.

“Of course!”

“So I overheard some students talking about this website where they leave reviews on their professors…”

“Oh no, did you go on ratemyprofessor?” You cut him off immediately and regret the little outburst because Pedro shuts his eyes and takes off his glasses to rub his face.

“S-sorry I- I’ll be quiet.” You wait patiently until he puts his glasses back on and looks up at you. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t quite place but you can tell from the way he’s ringing his fingers that he read something he didn’t like.

“Some of the reviews were helpful, really helpful. But most of them were, I don’t even know what to consider them and it’s been bugging me all day, especially one word that I kept on seeing over and over again.” His voice is low and you curse yourself for fixating on how beautiful he sounds, and frankly looks, as he sits on your couch and opens up to you about whatever this was.

“Were they rude? Did- did someone call you names or something?” You try to see if he’d tell you anything specific but he shrugs his shoulders and looks away.

“I don’t know.”

Realizing that he was probably annoyed and embarrassed that he was coming to you, you pick up your phone and kick your shoes away from below your feet before you take the seat next to him.

“Mind if I look through some?” You ask before you unlock your phone, looking at him until he turns his attention to you before you smile softly at him.

“Also, I hope you know that most of these are usually idiots trolling other students and the professors on campus. There isn’t any truth to them whatsoever and you need to ignore them because they’re sometimes by students who failed the classes and they’re just looking to give the professor a bad name so not many can sign up an-” The words die in your throat when you scroll down and read the third comment on his page.

Your eyes widen in shock at how forward the short sentence is and you decide to not look at Pedro as you read the rest of them.

As you scroll down, Pedro’s nervousness grows because with each movement of your finger, your eyes widen even further and your breathing either stops completely or picks up at a rapid pace.

The silence is deafening and when he can’t take it anymore, he asks you to stop because it only gets worse.

“These are...umm, wow. Very flowery language. And the imagination is just-”

“Please stop.” Pedro cuts off your rambling, knowing that he probably made things more awkward than necessary.

“Got it.” You take the last sip of coffee before putting the cup on the floor and tapping on your phone.

Pedro wants to ask you what you think of these reviews but he can’t focus on anything but your previous comment on how untrue the website mostly is. He was right, you probably didn’t think he was attractive after all.

You know that things will only get weirder if you remain quiet so you break the moment and hit him on his shoulder to catch his attention.

“What was the word you were confused by?” You ask almost hysterically and Pedro looks at you as if you grew a second head before he decides to answer you.

“There were some reviews that were alright but at the end, they’d just have the word ‘dilf’ or ‘big dilf vibes’ along with a smiley face and...well, I don’t know what that is or whether that’s a good or bad thing.” Whatever you were expecting him to say, this was probably at the last of the list and you almost choke on air when you see how genuinely irritated he is by this whole situation.

“Have you uhh, not looked this up or anything?”

“No because I don’t know what the fuck will pop up if I search that.” Pedro rarely swears and you’re caught off guard by how forign yet beautiful the curse word sounds falling from his lips. Taking a deep breath, you brace yourself for the worst possible conversation you’ll ever have with him and try to sound as calm and collected as possible.

“Well, you see, the word dilf is an acronym and it usually refers to an older man who has children and- and is viewed by some as sexually attractive.” You hope this is the end of the inquiry but like all the other chats you’ve witnessed, Pedro rarely lets go of things until he’s crystal clear on them.

He’s quiet for a few moments and you dare to look up at him, only to find him blinking confusedly at the floor and narrowing his eyes almost in anger.

“What? I- I don’t even have kids, how does this make any sense and why do students think this is okay to write on the internet?” Pedro’s voice grows and he doesn’t realize he’s yelling until he looks over and sees you grimacing at him.

“S-sorry.”

“That’s okay, and like I said, this is what it usually refers to. People sometimes say it to men who’re older and are sexually attractive but don’t have kids...like you give off those vibes. Basically, you’re an attractive older man and that reminds some of fathers who are also on the older side and are still attractive. As to the other question, all I can tell you is, kids are dumb these days and they have no shame.”

“But what if other professors see this and start to think I’m a joke?” You can tell his fear is genuine and you shake your head immediately, taking his hand and squeezing it to get his attention as you calmed him down.

“Look, everyone knows this website is garbage. No one goes on there I promise, and you will be taken seriously. You have tenure too so I don’t see why you’re worried about this.” You wait until he nods in affirmation before you remove your hand. As you’re about to stand, Pedro asks you one more question.

“Wait, you said it’s an acronym?”

Fuck. When did you say that?”

“Uhh, yeah. Yes.” Pedro is looking at you like you have all the answers and you can’t help but find it the cutest yet sexiest look he’s possibly given you. He’s so vulnerable and the thought of offering comfort in a different way shakes you to your core.

“What does it stand for then?”

“Does it really matter I mean-” You try to end the conversation but Pedro only demands a little more roughly, and you almost melt into him at how firm his tone suddenly is.

“What does it stand for?” His voice is more serious and you swallow the lump in your throat before you tell him.

“It stands for ‘dad I’d like to fuck.’ But since you’re not a dad, it just means that they want to...fuck you.” You hope you aren’t being too crude for him and when you turn to meet his eyes, you find them much softer than earlier, perhaps even more relaxed.

He says nothing but continues to stare at you, a part of him wanting to ask you if you also thought similarly. When you don’t try to move off of the couch again, Pedro gulps and allows his eyes to take in your body language.

Something about you being comfortable in your office and taking off your shoes makes him wish he could kiss you but he brushes the thought aside and musters up the courage to ask you what’s been on his mind ever since he opened up the website earlier in the day.

“So do you still think there’s no truth to any of the reviews?”

The question catches you off guard and you can’t help but stare into his dark brown eyes to make sure this wasn’t a joke. He surprises you again and looks down at your lips, biting into his own lower lip before he turns his attention to you again.

“I- I um...I mean my opinion doesn’t really matter you know so-” You laugh nervously and try to break the tension but Pedro cuts you off again with a stern expression.

“Please…”

It’s a soft whisper but it shakes you to your core and you realize that perhaps this wasn’t as one-sided as you initially thought it to be.

“I think that you’re an exceptionally attractive man and that you’re somehow even more handsome when you start to rant about Latin American literature, especially Chilean poetry. I- I don’t think I’ve met anyone as knowledgeable about this topic as you and I wish I could audit one of your courses but I’d probably end up not paying any attention because-” You stop yourself before you can go any further but Pedro doesn’t give you the chance to grow quiet, grabbing your hands and bringing them to his lips to lay soft kisses on them before he urges you to go further.

“Because what hermosa?” His voice is hoarse and you can’t help but lean into him as you whisper those last confessions in the dimly-lit office.

“Because I’d be too busy imagining you reading to me your favorite pieces as I- I…” Pedro sees longing and reluctance in your eyes, reads in between the lines and makes a split second decision. He inches closer to you and slips his hands across your neck, pulling you into him and swallowing your surprised gasps as he molds his lips with yours. You’re shocked at the turn of events at first, not sure of how to react to his desperate touches. But as you feel his fingers twist harder in your hair, you can’t help but relax into him and return his kiss. He moans into your mouth when you part your lips for him, and pulls you in until you straddle his thighs.

You know you should stop and reconsider what the two of you are about to do but you can’t find it in yourself to care any less. Pedro somehow senses the reluctance in your touches and he breaks the kiss not a moment later. He doesn’t let go of you though and you shut your eyes for a second to collect your bearings.

“I- I’m so sorry I don’t know what came over me.” He’s first to speak and your eyes flutter open at the whispered apology.

“I liked it.” It’s the simplest three words Pedro has ever heard yet they do something to him and he realizes that it would break his heart if you asked him to let you go. When he says nothing and continues to stare at you, you clear your throat and try to get off of him. But the hold he has on you tightens further and he refuses to let you go, making you wish his gaze didn’t have this much control on you.

“Pedro?”

“I’m not your professor, I’m not even on your committee. But I know how this would look if- goddamn it. All I’m saying is, I don’t want to force you into anything but I- I’m willing to take the risk if that’s what you want.” He manages to say before his mind is scrambled with thoughts of you writhing underneath him and before he could tell you to forget he ever said anything, you lean forward and softly kiss him until you feel him physically relax beneath you.

“I do, I do want you.” You can’t help but smile as soon as you see those familiar dimples growing the longer he looks at you. There is a sudden shift in the air around the office and your smile slowly falls when you finally register just how much you want him. He says nothing as you get off of him and begin to strip. As your shirt and pants hit the floor, Pedro begins to unbutton his shirt and kick off his shoes. He’s about to take the glasses off when you stop him.

“Please, keep them on.” Your plea makes him twitch in his pants and he doesn’t notice you getting on your knees until you move his hands away from his belt and begin to undo it yourself.

Pedro is mesmerized, unable to look away from you as you undress him and stare at him like he’s the most beautiful sonnet to have ever been written. His heart is close to beating out of his chest and when he you push his thighs open to make space for yourself, he finally snaps out of his haze and grabs for your hands.

“No wait you don’t have t-”

“Please...I want to.” You whisper to him and wait until he nods before you slip your hands underneath the elastic of his boxer briefs and pull them down. You can tell he’s nervous from the layer of sweat forming on his chest and the way his fingers are itching to grab for something so instead of diving right into him, you lay your palms across his thighs and massage them until he begins to ease at your touch. Pedro doesn’t dare to look away from you and as you try to make yourself comfortable in between his thighs, his mind panics and he thinks you’re about to move away from him.

“No estés lejos de mí un solo día, porque cómo...porque, no sé decirlo, es largo el día.”

Don't go far off, not even for a day, because --  because -- I don't know how to say it: a day is long

The words are spoken before he realizes what he’s doing and he watches as your chest rises and falls at a rapid rate with each word he moans to you. You recognize the poem immediately, having heard him gush about it during one of his seminars. But somehow, in the privacy of your office, the words carry a much deeper meaning to you and you lick your lips as you lower yourself down and kiss his navel.

Pedro almost jolts at the softness of your lips and he doesn’t bother to hold back as he pushes his fingers into your hair again, not to force you to do anything, only to ensure that you would remain near him where he could feel your heat caressing his skin.

“Keep going...please.” You ask him before you continue to kiss across where he’s begging for you and as he takes a deep breath to try and remember the next words, you firmly take his hardening cock in the palms of your hands and lay a kiss on the leaking tip. You keep your eyes on him and smile when you see his stomach clenching tightly. Kissing him one more time on the underside of his cock, you lick your lips and slowly inch his cock in your mouth.

“Mierda...y te estaré esperando como en las estaciones, cuando en alguna parte se durmieron los trenes.”

and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station  when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Pedro is struggling to form a coherent thought but the warmth of your mouth drives him to continue. He wants nothing more than to return the favor and he realizes he is when he notices the way you suck on him and moan every time he recites a new verse to you. You shut your eyes to savor the heaviness of him in your mouth, not caring for how loud you’re being as his hold tightens around your hair. You could feel him thrusting in your mouth and you almost laugh because he’s so enraptured by you that he doesn’t know he’s shoving his cock deeper into your throat.

“No te vayas por una hora porque entonces...en esa hora se juntan las gotas del desvelo- oh fuck, fuck please baby I...you look so pretty, mouth full of my cock.”

Don't leave me, even for an hour, because  then the little drops of anguish will all run together,

He’s a moaning mess already and you finally pull off of him, smiling devilishly as you watch him stare at the trail of saliva connecting your lips with his cock. He clenches his jaw tightly and swears even more when you spit on sock and begin to jerk off the tip while you lean down and kiss his balls. It’s filthy and shameless but you don’t care enough, wanting to show him just how much you want him.

Pedro sits up and groans when he feels you lick and suck on his balls, hips jutting forward when you return your mouth to the leaking tip of his cock and massage his balls instead.

“Y tal vez todo el- el humo que anda buscando c-casa...venga a matar aún mi corazón perdido. Mi corazón...fuck!”

the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift  into me, choking my lost heart.

Pedro screams when you surprise him and take his cock as far down your throat as you could and begin to swallow around him. The pressure of your throat muscles drives him mad and he falls back to the couch to try and stop himself from coming down your throat.

“Fuck baby baby please...I- I won’t last any longer. Come here,” Pedro reluctantly pulls you off of him, growling his need when he sees the mess you’ve made of yourself. He immediately pushes you into the mattress and shoves your thighs open, his chest quivering when he sees how wet you are for him.

“Is this all for me querida? You liked sucking my cock so much?” He asks as he licks his fingers and teases your slit.

“Pedro… I need you, just fuck me already.” The word is like a bucket of cold water and he hesitates when he realizes that he doesn’t have any condoms on him.

“Fuck wait, I don’t have any condom.” He sits back in disappointment, all the while massaging your thighs and keeping you close around him. “I- I’m on the pill and I’m clean...haven’t had any since I started this degree so-”

“Really? But you’re-”

“Jesus Chr- can you question my non-existent sex life later...I need you to fuck me, please.” You frown at him when he just stares at you, and he only catches up with what’s happening when you pull him by his hand until he falls on top of you.

“I’m clean too...a-are you sure mi cielo?” He asks one last time and prays that you don’t go back on your decision. When you cross your legs behind his back and force him closer to you, he turns his attention down your body and grabs his cock. You hold your breath as you watch him tease your entrance, letting it go when you feel him slowly inch his cock deeper inside you. It’s too much and not enough and you dig your nails into his broad shoulders when he finally sheathes himself inside your walls.

“Oh god fuck bebecita you’re- perfect. Fucking perfect. Ay que no se quebrante tu silueta en la arena, ay que no vuelen tus párpados en la ausencia.”

Oh, may your silhouette never dissolve on the beach;    may your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.

Pedro nuzzles into the crook of your neck and kisses your skin to help get you relaxed for him. You sigh his name over and over again, begging him to move when you feel him pulse inside you.

“Please...fuck me.”

It’s a short request but Pedro groans when he hears just how wrecked you are when he’s barely even touched you. He knows he won’t last long and he’s trying his hardest to not embarrass himself. But you feel too tight and too warm around him and he thinks this must be heaven because there’s no way anything so magnificent can exist on the earth.

The sound of your soft giggles fills his ears and Pedro pulls away to look at you, only to realize that he’s just said all of his inner monologue out loud in your ears.

“I- I don’t care if you’ll cum in a second Pedro...just fuck me already please. I’m- I need you.” You lean up and peck his lips before you slither your hand down your body and rub at your clit.

“That’s it, touch yourself sweetheart. Go on, let me feel you cum on my cock querida. F-fuck, no te vayas por un minuto, bienamada, porque en ese minuto te habrás ido tan lejos.”

Don't leave me for a second, my dearest,  because in that moment you'll have gone so far

Pedro continues to recite to you, marveling at how much tighter you clench around him whenever he moans those sweet words to you.

He picks up the pace and shuts his eyes to avoid looking at how beautiful you are as you come undone beneath him. Your sighs and pleas are music to his ears and he questions again how he managed to catch your attention when you could literally have anyone you wanted. Before he realizes what he’s doing, Pedro lets go of the couch and wraps one hand around your throat, wanting nothing more than to feel your heartbeat sounding against his skin. He doesn’t squeeze hard to cut off your breathing but he does get a little rough when he sees how much you’re enjoying his harder touches.

“Oh fuck Pedro...you’re- you feel so good. So fucking good. I- can I cum? Please let me cum.” He’s surprised by the question but finds the prospect of you giving him power over your pleasure more of a turn-on than he cares to admit. Wrapping the other arm around your back, Pedro braces his foot on the floor and pulls you up on his lap, swallowing your moans as he begins to fuck up into you.

“Dame un beso...you want to cum? Then fucking kiss me...kiss me like you want- no, need me. Kiss me like I’m the only one made for you.” He doesn’t know what prompts him to say such things but when you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss, his lungs give out and his hold on your waist tightens.

You’re swallowing his growls and he’s sinking into your desperate pleas and as he thrusts into you a few more times, you feel yourself fall over the edge, cunt clenching around him so tightly you swore you’ve never felt so full before.

Pedro breaks the kiss and rests his forehead on your sternum, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm until he began to feel a strike of pleasure zap through his spine.

“Fuck oh god fucking shit I- que yo cruzaré toda la tierra preguntando, si volverás o si me dejarás muriendo.”

I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,  Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?

Pedro breathes out the last two lines of the poem before he cums, forcing you on his cock a few more times as he shoots his seed deep inside you. You shiver at the warmth spilling in your cunt and painting your walls, never once stopping from kissing across his skin as he slowly brings you down to the couch and refuses to get off of you.

The room feels much hotter than earlier and you don’t let up on your caresses until Pedro smiles at you. A fit of giggles breaks the silence and you can’t help but laugh even more when he frowns down at you.

“What's funny now?” Pedro asks as he maneuvers himself a little off of you.

“Your glasses are all fogged up...can you even see anything?” You ask jokingly and apologize almost instantly when he begins to tickle your neck with his mustache.

“Well someone wanted me to keep them on so,” Pedro takes them off and throws them to the ground before he begins to kiss down your chest. You sigh when he brings his lips to your hardened peeks and teases them with soft licks.

“I mean...I wasn’t sure if you’re able to see anything without them. Those dilf vibes you know.” You hold onto his hands so he doesn’t tickle you again but when he says nothing, you look into his eyes and hope he wasn’t offended by your words.

“Hmm, and yet you were the one begging me to fuck you.” Pedro whispers across your flushed skin and you hiss when he slowly pulls out of you and grabs his undershirt to clean the mess he made between your thighs. He clenches his jaw when he notices how much it pleases him that you’re filled with his cum and he hopes you don’t notice this slightly caveman-ish side of him. But you’re too perceptive for your own good and you sit up on your elbows and stare at him as he dabs at your wet skin.

“Thinking of becoming a real dilf...professor?”

The words make him freeze and he looks into your eyes with embarrassment.

“Not as vanilla as I thought then…” You wink at him and lean over to kiss him when you see how nervous he’s suddenly become. Pedro doesn’t dare to move a muscle as he watches you put your clothes back on and try to look presentable. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen now but when you throw him his clothes, he follows your lead silently and hopes that you’ll notice how new this is for him.

“I know a pizza place that’s still open...how about we order to-go and finish this off at your place.” The smile that takes over his features is almost boyish and you can’t help but pull him in for another kiss.

“Just so we’re on the same page, this isn’t a one-time thing...right?”

“Oh heavens no. You recited your favorite poem to me as you fucked me...no way I’m letting you go now...Professor.” You smile when he murmurs something in Spanish as he collects his stuff and walks out behind you.

“Keep that up and we won’t even make it to the pizza place.” Pedro warns as you lock the office door behind you and make your way through the empty hallway.

“You make that sound like it’s a bad thing!”

“Depends on what your opinion is on car sex.” Pedro winks at you when he looks over and sees the shocked expression on your face.

“How scandalous of you Professor Pascal.” You feign innocence and run ahead when you see him trying to catch you.

“Down girl.” Pedro warns one last time and he tries his hardest to stay serious but the smirk you hold for him makes him break and he shakes his head in anticipation of what you’re about to say to him.

“Or what...you’re going to punish me Professor?”

“Oh bebecita, you’re in for it now.”

Pedro Pascal (and any of his characters):

So here you were, master’s degree under your belt at last, preparing to teach in the same classrooms where you once learned.

He looked up from his desk, papers stacked across it, a bookshelf on the wall nearby bowing under the weight of textbooks and journals. He slid his glasses up his nose, framing eyes with more crinkles than you remembered. Hair greying all over, salt and pepper rather than streaks at the temples. He stood up to his full height, and his body looked only slightly softer from age.

“It’s been far too long,” he said, walking towards you. You stepped inside, embracing him and letting yourself sink into his scent for just a moment.

“So, our newest adjunct professor,” he said, grinning. “How does it feel to be back?”

“A little strange, if I’m honest,” you confessed, tugging nervously at the hem of your blouse.

“You’ll do great, I have no doubt,” he replied, waving toward the chair in front of his desk, where you once sat for office hours.

God. It’s the same chair.

The paint is peeling a bit more, the foam armrests picked at by anxious students, but there’s no mistaking it.

“Everything okay?” He asked, noticing your silence.

“No, yeah, everything’s fine,” you said, pushing the memories from your mind. “How, um. How have you been?”

“Ah, you know. Shaping young minds,” he said, a gentle smile on his face. “Watching your career with interest.”

“Really?” You smiled, a self-deprecating shrug. “Not exactly world-changing stuff.”

“I disagree,” he said, leaning forward and folding his hands. “A public service. The world needs to be informed. And these have certainly been trying times for us all.”

You nodded.

“I suppose you’re right. Well, I should get my things set up in the adjunct office, I guess. I’m sure we’ll talk soon,” you said, rising from the chair. Your stomach twisted anxiously. You weren’t sure what you’d expected, anyway. A warm welcome? A passionate kiss? You’d completely lost touch for more than a decade, and you couldn’t say for sure whether he’d been married since, started a family of his own. You didn’t spot a ring, or any family photos set on the desk in places of honor, though.

You weren’t sure if that made you happy or sad.

For your part, you’d been married to your work, traveling from one city, one job to the next every few years. The punishing pace of your industry meant that you were always chasing stories, working odd hours and holidays. At first, you’d politely turned down invitations to events with friends, knowing you’d be the one required to spend the days working.

Then the invitations stopped coming.

That made things easier in a way; retreating into a smaller life. Fewer people to let down when you invariably bailed on plans. Boyfriends quickly lost patience with you; seeing you once a week at most was unsustainable, and you only loved with half of your heart. None of them got close enough to be missed terribly when they were gone.

You looked up at last, approaching your mid-thirties and realized you could easily lose another decade this way if you remained on autopilot. So you’d taken the leap, managing to complete your masters degree online, and applied to teaching positions at a few universities - including your own alma mater.

“Hey,” a warm voice called from the doorway of the adjunct office.

It was him.

“That wasn’t a proper chance to catch up,” he said, smiling. “How about dinner? You free tonight?”

You adjusted your own glasses.

“Dinner sounds great.”

++

Going out on a date with your former professor-slash-secret lover was a whole new experience. For one thing, you didn’t have to hide this time. He picked you up from your new apartment, the car upgraded (tenure has its perks), and headed for a popular Italian restaurant not far from the university. You’re pretty sure it used to be a Greek restaurant.

He opened the door for you, graciously ordered a bottle of wine, and smiled across the table.

“What?” You asked, when he didn’t speak right away.

“Nothing, just- thinking. How things change, and how they don’t.”

“Vague and cryptic,” you said, taking a sip of the red Cabernet. It felt alive in your mouth; buzzing like you drank bees.

You swallowed with some effort.

“Never once to mince words,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You always kept me on my toes.” He sipped his wine. “Actually, ‘knocked me off my feet’ would be more accurate.”

You smiled wistfully.

“I was so young,” you said, shaking your head. “Had so many big ideas about what the world could be, what my life could be. After all this time, you know what I’ve learned?” You took another sip. “The world doesn’t give a shit about me.”

His expression crumpled slightly, eyebrows falling, brown eyes turning sad.

“That’s a bleak outlook,” he said. “What about your friends? Family? Boyfriend?”

You shrugged.

“It’s not their fault. I mean, I know I’ve had people that loved me- love me. I just kept chasing the success, the kind of praise I only got when I did something spectacular. In the real world you don’t get gold stars and high honors just for doing your job well. And it turns out in the real world, I’m not that special after all.”

Shit. This wine was strong. You hadn’t planned on unloading like this. But once the cork was out—

“The last time I felt special was with you.”

It took you a moment to realize the words had come out of his mouth, not yours.

“What?”

“You - that summer. And I couldn’t chase you, I knew you were off-limits, I was playing with fire. Insert whatever trite cliche you want. But I couldn’t make myself regret it, and I hope,” he said, voice pained, “I hope you didn’t either.”

Your face softened, and you reached across the table, taking his hand.

“Not for a moment,” you said, smiling gently.

The pair of you ate pasta, shifting the conversation to lighter topics, books you were reading. Your own travels.

“I’ve seen the world now, too,” you said, grinning. “Got my own boomerang souvenir from Australia and everything. Can’t get it to work, though.”

He chuckled.

“I thought of you when I bought it,” you admitted over a piece of tiramisu. “I thought about you a lot.”

Dinner drew to a close, and you were in the car, making your way back to the new apartment you’d rented, when he pulled off into a parking lot.

“Little surprise,” he said, smiling.

The coffee shop.

It was a chain now, the old logo painted over and replaced with a fancy neon sign, but they’d kept the open mic stage, at the urging of the locals. You glanced into the backseat and saw a guitar case.

“We don’t have to- if you just want a cup of coffee, that’s okay,” he said quickly. “I just thought, you know. Old times’ sake.”

You smiled gently.

“Why not?”

++

You walked inside the coffee shop, taking in the soft lighting and the gleaming, new tables. The stage in the corner looked much the same, mic stand set up next to a pair of stools, gray industrial carpet covering the platform. Someone had just finished up a set, and was packing up their equipment, to light applause.

“Hey, professor,” one of the baristas said, grinning. He had dark, curly hair and hazel eyes; just the sort of college boy you should have gone for. Would have, maybe. Never wanted, really.

“Hey, Logan,” he said with a grin, waving. He looked over at you and nodded in the kid’s direction. “Logan’s one of my brightest this year. Good kid,” he said. You didn’t miss the way Logan ogled you slightly.

“Logan, meet one of your new teachers,” he said. Logan’s face went on an amusing journey from surprised to sheepish at having been caught out.

“Hi,” he said, nodding politely. “Nice to meet you. What’ll it be?”

You smiled back at him knowingly.

“Iced coffee, medium is fine,” you said. “I’ll add my own stuff.”

Logan turned to your companion.

“And you, Dr. P?”

You smiled again.

“Small espresso.”

“Holy shit,” you said, making Logan’s eyes widen.

Pedro chuckled.

“Won’t you be up all night?” You asked, eyebrow raised.

“If I’m lucky,” he said, making Logan cough awkwardly.

“Sorry, buddy. You didn’t hear that.”

Logan shrugged.

“Gonna entertain us tonight, Dr. P?”

“Maybe just one song,” he replied, and the pair of you sat down at a table near the stage. Logan brought your drinks over a couple of minutes later.

You sipped your coffee, watching the professor drain his small cup.

“Been a long time since we sang together,” you said, fiddling with the straw in your drink.

“Bonnie Raitt last time,” he said. “That was some song.”

“Some night,” you replied, smiling gently at the memory. Your mouth quirked upwards in a playful smirk.

“So, what do you think? Know any new songs, old man?” You asked.

He met your gaze and nodded.

“I think I know just the one.”

++

You eyed him suspiciously as the pair of you took the stage, settling onto the stools. He hadn’t told you what you’d be singing.

His fingers picked out a melody on his guitar. Simple chords.

E minor. D. G.

He leaned in to the microphone, his eyes fixed on you.

Tell me something, girl

Are you happy in this modern world

You smiled in recognition.

Or do you need more

Is there somethin' else you're searchin' for?

I'm fallin'

In all the good times

I find myself longin’ for change

And in the bad times I fear myself

E minor. D. G.

You took a deep breath.

Tell me something boy

Aren't you tired tryin' to fill that void?

Or do you need more

Ain't it hard keepin' it so hardcore?

The pair of you leaned in together.

I'm falling

In all the good times

I find myself longing for change

And in the bad times I fear myself

He leaned back, strumming the chords as you sang.

I'm off the deep end

Watch as I dive in

I'll never meet the ground

Crash through the surface

Where they can't hurt us

We're far from the shallow now

The pair of you finished the song, foreheads pressed close to each other, as the handful of customers clapped and cheered.

Your cheeks felt hot, and the professor blushed as he waved graciously to the tables.

“You wanna get out of here?” You asked, heart racing.

“More than anything,” he replied.

You picked up the tip cup that a few people had dropped money into and held it out to Pedro.

“Oh, just - add it to the employee tip jar. I always do.”

You smiled, pouring the contents into the plastic container. Logan gave you an appreciative nod.

“See you at school,” you said, waving as Pedro held the door for you to walk out.

You sat down in the passenger seat as Pedro set his guitar case across the backseat, getting into the car.

He’d only sat down for a moment when you leaned over, fingertips clasping his cheeks and pulling him in to kiss him. He mmph-ed in surprise, kissing you back, hands sliding into your hair.

“I had a whole speech planned,” he said, chuckling as your lips parted. “I’m not sure I’ll remember it now.”

You card your fingers through his dark hair, flecked with silver.

“Take me home, please,” you say, kissing him again. “And stay.”

++

You unlocked the door to your apartment, swinging it wide and welcoming him inside. You dropped your keys in a dish on the counter, toeing off your shoes and padding over to the fridge.

“You want another drink?” You asked, eyes meeting his.

He stood in the kitchen, hands folded awkwardly.

“Is- is something wrong?”

He cleared his throat.

“I have a confession to make,” he said, his expression turning serious.

“Oh no. You’re married.”

“What? No, no, that’s not it,” he replied, blowing out a small sigh of relief. “I just- you’ll find out eventually anyway- I went to bat for you. With the hiring committee.”

“Oh.” You bit your lip. “Okay, well, I appreciate that.”

You paused.

“You wanted to make sure I got hired?”

“Yes,” he replied. “But I want you to know, it’s because I believe in you. I always have,” he added, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He took a breath. “That was the first reason. The second was - I couldn’t take a chance that you might go somewhere else.”

You frowned.

“Why?”

He huffed out a short, bitter laugh.

“You know, I didn’t even find out if you were married. For all I knew, you had a spouse and kids by now. I didn’t care. If we could only be colleagues, that was fine with me. I just-” his voice broke, and he looked down at his feet.

You stepped closer, taking his hand in yours.

“It’s okay.”

“It’s insane, really. All these years, no one really compared to what I felt with you. I was so convinced sending you out into the world was right, was necessary, and by the time I realized it I knew that was it and I was just- ruined. For everyone else.”

You started to laugh, making him shrink back in surprise, until he saw the tears streaming down both your cheeks.

“What? What is it?”

“It’s just- me, too,” you said, sobs filling up your chest, a cascade of hiccupping breaths that made you cover your mouth.

“Oh, baby girl,” he said, his own eyes gleaming. “What are we gonna do?” He brushed your tears away with both thumbs, pressing his forehead to yours.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Make up for lost time,” you replied, taking one of his hands and hiking up your dress, making him smile and shake his head.

“I’m so much older now,” you said, licking your lips.

“Still younger than I was when we met. God, you were so young then.”

“I think we should stop talking now.”

You leaned in, wrapping your arms around him and kissing him, your glasses colliding and making you laugh. You stepped back, then took his hand, leading him into your bedroom and starting to unbutton your dress.

“I still think about how you tasted,” he whispered, his nose pressed to your cheek. “All the time.”

“Take off your clothes,” you replied, kissing his cheek, his jawline, his neck.

He stripped himself, climbing into bed after you let your dress and lace underthings pool on the floor in a heap and pulling you down to him. His hand slipped between your legs, fingertips finding your warm, slick folds and tracing over them.

He slid a finger inside you, then brought it to his lips, sucking it clean like it was dipped in honey. The sight made you sigh, moaning softly.

His hands gripped your thighs, softer than they were so long ago, lifting and pressing them apart as he lowered his face to kiss your core, making you gasp in delight.

“No one does this like you,” you whispered, fingers sinking into his hair, whimpers spilling from your lips as he devoured you like a man desperate; he laved over you with his tongue, lapping at your center and sucking on your clit, his nose pressed to your mound as you bucked helplessly against him. He kept you there for ages; pinned in place with firm, strong arms, his eyes flicking up your body every so often to watch your face as you neared your peak.

At last, you felt your thighs shaking, your toes curling into the sheets, and you cried out, scraping at his shoulders, tugging him up to your face. You kissed him, pressing your tongue into his mouth, tasting yourself and crossing your ankles behind his hips.

“Please,” you whispered, reaching between your bodies to stroke him, lining him up with your soaked, soft opening. “I need you,” you breathed, and he sank into you slowly, the stretch a little easier than you remembered, but still snug. He filled you up, your back arching off the bed as he held you, hips rocking, muscles tightening to drive himself in and out, both of you panting with the effort.

You clung to him as he rocked inside you, pressing up with both arms, eyes locked with yours as your mouth fell open slightly.

He cupped his hand under one cheek of your ass and gently rolled until you were on top of him, knees tucked under you, riding him and bouncing on his hard length.

“Beautiful,” he breathed, hands reaching up to squeeze your breasts. He lifted one hand to cup your face as you rolled your hips and turned to kiss his palm.

“Come on, that’s it,” you panted softly, bracing yourself over him and speeding up, the pair of you knocking the headboard against the wall. You heard your neighbor turn on the stereo - loud.

“Oh my god,” you said, and the pair of you broke your stride, laughing and collapsing into each other’s arms for a few moments.

“Little more,” he whispered at last, still hard inside you. “So close, baby girl,” he moaned, and you rocked faster, his thrusts in tandem forcing small cries from your throat until you felt him hit his peak, flooding you with heat. You shook, full body shivers of pleasure as he came deep inside you, the reunion complete, the decade-plus dissolving away as you folded yourself into his arms.

He kissed your lips, your forehead, your closed eyelids.

“How long has it been for us?” You whispered, throat tightening over the thought of the lost time.

“Fifty-one years, nine months, and four days,” he replied. “Worth every second.”

You chuckled, sniffing.

“Marquez.”

“Top of the class, as ever,” he whispered, kissing your temple.

You spend the semester learning the ropes, getting accustomed to being on the other side of the classroom. You grade papers in bed together, dueling laptops whirring away on the sheets. But sometimes, you grab a red pen, and draw hearts on his chest. It makes you both laugh, now.