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“Greek lessons, Professor?” Your heart pounds faster with the implications of private lessons.
“So you can read the original Odyssey.” Rafayel’s words hang in the air.
You remember the class discussion from the day before. Rafayel, your art history professor, was fascinated by your talk about Ancient Greece and the myths surrounding it.
“Ah, yes. I remember what I said, sir. But why are you offering me lessons?” You avoid his gaze- his azure and rose colored eyes feel like they are boring into you.
“Because I’m fluent and I like your dedication to the Arts.” His soft looking lips turn up to smile at you. “Meet me in my studio, tonight, at 7pm.”
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When you finally arrive at his studio, you’re almost shaking in your boots. Your nerves try to overpower your body before you can finally knock on the door. No answer. You knock again, but still, no answer. You start to doubt yourself. Did you misunderstand? Did you get the time wrong? The third time you knock the door swings open by itself.
“Professor?” You carefully push open the door and walk into the dimly lit studio. Paintings of the ocean are scattered everywhere. “Professor?” You call again. “Are you here?”
“Ah, there’s my favourite student.” Goosebumps spread over your body from his voice, more friendly and energetic than during class. “Come closer, cutie.” You finally find his silhouette sitting at his easel, only his dusty violet hair peeking out from behind the canvas.
“I’m here for the lessons, sir?” Your voice sounds unsteady, even to yourself. “The… uhm… Greek lessons…” You take a step closer.
“Wait there.” You immediately stop in my tracks from his voice. “Do you want boring language lessons? Or…” His voice trails off for a second “A… more hands on experience?”
“Did you just lure me here with language lessons, sir?” You try to sound confident but the cracks in your voice betray your nerves.
“I’ve seen how you look at me, cutie. I’ve even noticed how much your sketches look like me. Now choose.”
You swallow deeply before finally answering.
“I guess… Hands on then… Give me the full Greek immersion.”
You can hear a soft chuckle coming from behind the canvas.
“Turn to your left, cutie. There’s a blindfold there. Put it on.”
You hesitate, but quickly give in. Your hands shake as you fasten the silky fabric around your head.
“What’s the purpose of this, sir?”
As soon as you lower your hands, you feel a soft touch on your bare arm.
“Erota… Aphrodisia… Do you recognise these words?”
“Desire and Passion, sir. Coming from the gods Eros and Aphrodite.” His sudden breath on your neck makes you weak at the knees.
“Words deeply engraved in Greek culture.” His voice whispers in your ear, soft and sultry.
“Tonight, I will be Eros and you will be my Psyche. I will make you experience a new kind of Hedone.”
Hedone… Pleasure. The word keeps circling in your mind. Your body shudders again when Rafayel starts to softly caress your neck.
You feel him move away again, making you yearn for more of his touch.
“Do not give in to curiosity, Agapi Mou.” You can hear him move around the studio. A click and the last light disappears from under the blindfold. “Agapi Mou… Greek for ‘my love’. Do you trust me, Psyche?”
“Y… yes. I will not remove the blindfold… I will not light a candle. I will trust my husband.”
“Good girl.” You almost collapse when those two words are whispered in your ear. But Rafayel’s strong arms keep me upright. “The winds have guided you to my palace. Tonight I will take care of you.”
His fingers slowly unbutton your shirt and toss it aside. A soft touch lingers on your collarbone before trailing down and unhooking your bra. Each touch sends a jolt through your body.
“Do you feel me, Psyche?” His lips hover over your ear and his tongue flicks out to caress your neck.
“Aaah! Yes!” The low moan escapes before you can stop it.
His lips curve into a smile against your skin as he traces patterns down to your breasts, circling them without touching.
“What about now?” His voice drops lower, becoming almost hypnotic. “Can you feel my touch everywhere?”
Another whimper escapes when he softly blows on your nipple.
Satisfied with your reaction, his fingers continue to trace teasing patterns down to your waist.
“Such a good girl.” He hooks his fingers into the sides of your pants and thong and slowly pulls them down. “Step out.”
You do as he says, barely holding onto my last composure when his touch barely grazes your now bare skin.
“Pro-” A finger stops you from saying more before his lips capture you with a soft kiss.
You can feel his hands on your thighs again, spreading them wider. His touch turns almost unbearably soft as he grazes the inside of your thighs softly, avoiding your center.
“So sensitive, agapi mou.” His lips find your neck again, sucking gently. You can feel his fingers trail back, grazing the skin on your inner knees, almost making you drop again.
“Tickles.” Your voice is hardly above a whisper. He grazes the surface again, making you squirm under his touch, trying to move away.
“Don’t move from your God.” Rafayel’s voice grows more dangerous and husky as he presses you against the wall.
"Mischievous God, tickling me.” You finally find the confidence to explore his body. Tracing every muscle on his back, trying to memorize them for later sketching.
He grunts and starts to softly tickle your ribs, making you laugh and wiggle again.
“You laugh like a goddess.” His breath is heavy on your neck. “But I’d rather hear you moan.”
Rafayel’s strong hands hook under your legs and carry you to the couch.
“Maybe I can tickle you in another way.” He presses you down on the couch and pulls my legs open wider with his knees. “What do you say, Psyche?”
“Di Imortalis … Yes … please …”
You can feel him smirk at your breathless plea, moving down your body slowly. His tongue traces a feather-light pattern down your stomach. When he reaches your hips, he nips gently, making you jump.
“You’re trembling already. Shall I stop?”
“Mea culpa. Please don’t stop!”
“Wrong language, agapi mou.” His hands dig into your thighs, spreading them open farther.
His tongue continues its slow descent, finally finding your warm core. He licks slowly, teasingly, savoring your taste. One hand moves up to trace circles around your breasts while he keeps teasing you with his tongue. “You taste just like ambrosia.”
You shudder when he finally flicks his tongue against your most sensitive spot. Feeling your response he smiles against your flesh, continuing his slow sensual torture. Licking and sucking with a deliberate pace designed to drive you slowly insane. His fingers pinch and roll your tender peaks.
“Say my name…”
“Rafayel.”
The moan escapes your lips sounding more like a prayer. He increases the pressure of his tongue slightly, driving you closer to the edge. You gasp loudly when two fingers suddenly enter you and curl inside you.
“Again…”
“Aah, Rafa-!”
He softly sucks on your clit, sending shivers down your spine. His fingers move faster, deeper. He adds a third one, stretching you softly.
“Louder.”
He murmurs against your skin, his words reverberating against your clit. Feeling how your body starts to tense he redoubles his efforts. His fingers curling sharply against your sensitive walls as his tongue rapidly flicks over your clit.
“Come for me, Psyche.”
Your final release is so violent that you can’t contain the scream that comes out when you say his name.
He laps up your essence eagerly, his eyes rolling back in pleasure. He continues to eat you out until you’re fully spent.
Finally, he kisses his way back up your trembling body.
“You are so beautiful, my goddess.” He murmurs, claiming your lips in a gentle kiss.
“Now, shall we continue our language lessons?”