Work Text:
Finals week.
Everything was rushing by.
In my post-haste, I was the one making my college career the most difficult for myself. All the late nights I spent awake, unable to sleep, drinking tea and watching Netflix until three hours before my morning class. All the papers I slacked off, my professors being merciful and allowing me wiggle room on my due dates that I took way too much advantage of. The times I skipped class because I was genuinely ill, or because I had been up too late that night fighting with my lover back home, going to bed sick to my stomach and in tears. The angry phone calls from back home too, screaming about money problems.
Yeah...I really fucked this semester up, I thought remorsefully, walking to the university's library. The cold winter wind blew harshly, biting and stinging at my face. Swearing, I flip my hood up over my head, drawing it close around my face and tucking my chin into my collar. My eyes watered, and my shoes soaked through from trudging through drifts. Classes had been canceled due to weather, the campus was still open. At least, I really hoped the library was. I was determined to leave my damn laptop for a change and use the miraculous day off to actually get my shit into gear. Being on the verge of failure made me stressed, and the stress made me not want to do things, which in turn encouraged the imminent failure...I was spiraling.
I get to the library's entrance, and shake the snow off of myself like a dog shaking it's fur. It's pretty damn cold out, and I hated tracking snow in, especially a place like the library. I stomped my shoes off and scraped them on the mat...if there was anything I hated more about snow outside, it was snow inside, and idiots tracking it in and making everything wet and slippery. I enter, still drawn into myself, freezing. Adjusting my backpack on my shoulder, I look around in awe.
The library was huge...I had never really adventured the library much (hence my far overdue research papers) and was amazed. I had always loved reading as a young adult, but I grew out of reading for fun once school got more serious, as well as all of the other shit that goes along with growing up. Sniffling, I rub my bright-red nose and wince in pain. It felt like it had frozen off. Tentatively, I take a few steps into the library, looking around with apprehension. This place was really, really...big. I was fascinated and intimidated. Beautiful, ornate wooden bookshelves towering in row after endless row, filled from top to bottoms with novels. Taking a deep breath, even I, through my stuffed and runny nose, could smell the alluring scent of old and loved pages. The feeling made me happy, and even warmed up my grumpy bones for a few moments.
The happiness was fleeting, and fled as soon as I took a look at catalog numbers labeled on the sides of the bookcases. I never bothered learning how the Dewey decimal system worked as a kid, and as I grew up, it became more and more useless to me as I could just look it up on a computer or ask the librarian. Still, the task was daunting...there were so many books to go through, and I hadn't any clue on where to begin looking.
Hesitantly, I approach the nearest table, sloughing off my backpack in order to shrug off my fat winter coat, no longer necessary in the warm library. I look around. There's no one here, at least, no one that I can see. I look to the front check-out desk, and there wasn't even a librarian...come to think of it, I didn't even know who the librarian was. I really hoped there was one, or someone who could help me check out books. With the tables empty and the library seeming empty as well, I just left my backpack in the chair and draped my jacket over it. I take my rough drafts out to look at while roaming, so I could get a better idea of what I was looking for.
If I could find the catalog computer, I thought to myself. There, I could get a starting point. All I needed to do was look up books I could slap onto a bibliography, get their numbers, find them, check them out, and be done. I felt like I was on a mission – get in and get out. Get my papers done. I felt a little guilt at all the bullshitting I was doing, but it was the fine line between passing and failing. I got my college game face on. I shoved the stress aside and thought I can do this.
Wandering about, I finally find a computer set aside for the catalog. Elated, I run to it, only to find “Out of Order” on the damn thing, along with an old Clip Art of a sick cartoon desktop. “Fuck!” I yell loudly, not caring. I kicked the desk chair in spite. It was from becoming easily frustrated at simply roadblocks like this that discouraged me from finishing anything all semester.
“Shhh...you ought to be more quiet. This is a library, after all.” The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as an amused, silky voice spoke behind me. I jumped about a foot in the air, making an awkward noise along with it and scattering my papers. As they fluttered to the ground, I turn to face the speaker. He was tall and gorgeous...long legs, sharply angled cheekbones, smooth raven hair that ended in delicate curls. His eyes were a dark emerald green, and a small smile played on his lips as he turned from arranging books on a shelf to look at me...had he always been there? Did I just not notice him on my quest to the computer? I felt confused, and embarrassed. I had never been the type to get hot for teacher, but this librarian, so smooth and elegant, so young and coy looking. And smartly dressed. He sported a black three-piece suit with a tie that matched his eyes. Though I had grown used to seeing professional wear from most of my professors around the campus, this man just wore it differently.
Hastily, I drop to the ground, trying to occupy myself with anything but staring at the librarian.
“Oh god, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry,” I stutter, collecting my papers off the ground. “I was just really frustrated, I'm sorry, that was really rude of me.” He laughed, and started backing down off of his step stool. He flashed a full smile and perfect white teeth when he laughed, making me more embarrassed.
“Here, let me help you,” he said kindly, bending down to help me pick up my papers. The way his pants creased when he bent down, framing his bulge that was now very much so in my close field of vision...it was all I could do to keep from ogling him. I drop my eyes to the very ground, only to spot his sharp, shiny shoes that covered his feet, that came from long, elegant legs, that traveled up to...
“Beowulf?” he asked curiously, looking at a paper. I give a little start, then look at him, making eye contact. His face was perfect, pale, smooth, and framed by his long black hair. His lips were thin and pale as well, but his eyes stood out the most, deep, green, and thoughtful. His eyes that matched his tie...damn, his tie, I always had a thing for ties.
“Yeah,” I answered back casually, as though I wasn't entranced by his god-like figure. “I kinda need some help looking for some books to use as sources for my paper.” He stood up, uncoiling that long figure of his into one straight, smooth man.
Still holding my paper, he give a gesture and says, “Come with me, I'll show you where to find some” Overwhelmingly relieved, in part because the awkwardness had passed and in part because he could help me, I stood up with a grateful sigh.
“Oh man, thank you, seriously.” I brush my hands off on my jeans, not knowing what else to do with them. He begins walking, and I follow with a great view from behind. We wander withing the depths of the library, and I began to wonder how a campus so seemingly small had a library so large. As we walked, the silence became uncomfortable, so I decided to make some small talk.
“I don't think I've seen you around campus at all. Who are you?”
He turned around and gave me a wicked smirk. “I'm the librarian,” he said in a smart-ass tone.
I roll my eyes good-naturedly, and laugh a little. “Well, I know that, but like, what's your name? Do you teach anything?”
“Professor Laufeyson. I teach upper division history classes on mythology and work in here.” He gestured widely to the library with a grand wave of his hands...his hands with long, slender fingers. His little cufflinks caught in the light and glimmered. I felt hot and bothered all over again, over the smallest things. That suit! The click of his shoes on the floor, the slight rustle of the black fabric as he walked...
“Ah. Here we are.” We entered a section that was mostly old texts, but not worn from student use. It felt like a hidden part of the library, seldom visited and secluded. I could understand why. Reading the titles, they were all complex, involved Old English, psychological theories, or all three. “These ones are really wonderful for research papers like yours...they actually have substance. Unlike the garbage they put in the resource section...” he scoffed, rolling his eyes and looking disgusted. On the inside, I was thrilled at how genuinely enthused he was about quality literature.
Eager to get working, I turn my back to him to face the volumes on the shelves. “Thank you!” I exclaim loudly, ecstatic at the titles I was reading on the spines. “Thank you so, so much, I...” His large, cold hand softly covers my mouth from behind, and I feel his suit pressed against my clothing, his breath on the back of my neck, and his hardened bulge stirring between my legs.
“This is my library,” he whispers in my ear, brushing his teeth just below my earlobe. His other hand slips beneath my shirt, and his fingertips caress my belly. Closing my eyes, I softly moan against his hand and feel myself grow slightly wet. “And in my library, you need to be quiet.” He began nipping a line down my tender neck, still keeping his hand pressed against my mouth. The hand on my belly traveled south, tucking a few fingers below my waistband and softly beginning to rub my clit. I bite against the palm of his hand, sucking in a sharp breath of pleasure. He pulls my head way back, arching my neck, exposing it, putting me at his mercy. I whimpered against his hand.
“Shhh,” he murmured in my ear, rubbing a little harder. “This is a library.” His hand that was so pleasurably touching me pulled back out, and I give a little groan of frustration. Taking it out from underneath my waistband, he unbuttons and unzips them, tugging them down a little. He picks at the lace on my panties, giving them a little snap against my skin as he pulled the elastic band back and let go. “If I remove my hand, will you promise to be quiet?” He asks playfully in my ear. Silently, I nod in agreement. He removes his hand, and uses it to help work my pants lower, just below my behind. I felt oddly exposed, and could feel my desire thick on the insides of my legs. With some rustling, I hear him undo his own pants from behind me, and I felt his erection spring free, smooth and full, resting against my rear. My heart pounded, and my lust ached. I wanted it. I wanted it more than anything at this point. Fuck my papers, fuck school...I just wanted to fuck him. There was more rustling, and I felt a silky fabric against my mouth. Opening my eyes, I see it was the green tie off of his suit.
“Brace yourself,” he purred into my ear. I prop both of my hands against the side of a sturdy wooden bookcase and bite down on the tie. I feel a tug and my head pull back, and realize he has one end of the tie in each hand, holding the gag in my mouth as I tried to keep myself sturdy against the shelf. I feel his warm tip tease at my entrance, and I moaned against the silk as I felt the fabric from his suit rub against my exposed backside. “This will be quick for you, but enjoyable for me.” With agonizing slowness, he pushes more than just the tip inside. I buck back as my tight walls try to adjust to his large head, followed by the rest of his hard shaft.
He began with long, smooth, rhythmic thrust, drawing his full length in and out each time. The teasing was agonizing, and I enjoyed every second of it. Soon enough, my body relaxed enough and became wet enough for me to not feel discomfort, just deliciously full. He realized this as well, and I heard him smile as he let out a cold breath that blew against my neck. “Now, then,” his thrusts became quicker and harder. I moaned loudly against the tie, pushing my hips back into him, digging my nails into the wood of the shelf. He puts both ends of the tie into one hand, resting the other on my hip, holding me close to him. I groan at his touch, aching for more.
He takes the hand on my hip and sharply slaps my rear, and my eyes flew open, the pain mixed with the pleasure driving me wild. I felt the fabric graze my skin too, a tickling, sensual feeling. “Shh,” he snarled, his thrusts becoming more aggressive. “If you can't keep quiet in my library, I will have to punish you.” That spank wasn't very quiet, I thought, wanting to say it but couldn't. Almost as if he knew what I was thinking, he spanked me harder. My eyelids fluttered shut and I reveled in the tingling feeling, my behind growing warm from his hand. Not making a sound, I took his pounding, letting me enjoy me to his liking.
“Good girl,” he breathes after I had maintained dutiful silence for a few minutes. Even the praise spiked my arousal, and I let a whimper slip out, desperate for more, and receiving another spank. “Dammit,” he growled roughly, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper, and more unpredictable, “I had such faith in you, and you couldn't even keep quiet.” I moan an apology against the tie. My lust dripped down his cock, his length slamming in and out of me, repeatedly hitting that one spot inside of me but not quite enough to send me over the edge. I almost liked it better that way. I could sit and take his punishment forever.
Suddenly, his movements became very quick, driving into me for more. Determined to obey and keep quiet, I arched my head back and pushed my hips back, trying to glean as much pleasure from it as possible. His cold breath panted off the back of my neck, and both of us tightened up. He yanked on my tie gag, pulling my head so far back it was almost uncomfortable, but the new curve he put in my back from it let his length hit my spot better, over and over and over...
“Come for me,” he whispered, roughly biting my neck. Breaking my silence, I let out a loud moan of pleasure and of undoing, feeling myself come around him, my body letting go. All of my stress was released in a single, orgasmic movement. I soaked his length, the room smelling thickly of musk and desire. Pleasure radiating throughout my body, he rode me through the aftershocks that followed, the little orgasms and bumps of good feelings that he would hit until I became painfully oversensitive. Not too long after, he himself let out a long sigh of relief, and I felt his perfect cock let go inside of me. It was a warm, filling feeling, and he remained inside for quite awhile as he rode out his own aftershocks. I would feel him give a jump as remaining bits of his orgasm shot, only making my own orgasm that much better.
Slowly, he pulled himself out, and I experienced arousal all over again as I felt the full length of his hard cock slide in its entirety through me one last time on his way out. I felt his hot seed leak out of me, trickling out and down my legs, mixing with my own thick secretions. I remained propping myself against the bookcase, my knees utterly weak, panting hard. I saw deep gouges in the mahogany, and blushed.
“Stay still,” he commanded, and I froze, ceasing my shaking and my heaving chest. Pulling the handkerchief from his suit pocket, I felt him tenderly clean me up between my legs.
“You're good,” he said, once I was wiped down. Still shaking, I pull my pants back up, and become aware of the fact that the tie he used to control and gag me was hanging limply around my neck. It was about as beat as I was. I turn to face him, blushing hard. He was already fully composed. His cock put away, his suit unruffled, even his hair seemed to be in place. I run my hand through my own hair, probably making it worse than it was. That damn gorgeous suit.
“I...” I begin, but he held up one of his slim, perfect fingers to my lips.
“Shh, pet,” he hushed playfully, striking me dumb once more. “Here,” he takes the tie in both of his hands, and starts to lovingly tie it around my neck.
Synching the knot, he says, “You keep this. Let it remind you that you need to visit the library more often.”
~writinginsepia.tumblr.com