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“So, why do you think they went with that lighting?” Adam asked. He couldn’t stand still when he taught. He was practically shuffling across the room, hands clasped loosely behind his back, moving at the speed of someone far beyond his years. Like he had all the time in the world. “The color palette. It was intentional.”
He was met with silence from the class, occasionally broken by the squeak of a chair or somebody clearing their throat.
Adam sighed. He should’ve predicted this response from a 9am class. He had spent most of the previous night planning for this lesson – they were supposed to be analyzing one of his favorite films, and Adam had spent hours taking notes and coming up with discussion prompts. And now, he was being met with blank stares and slumped shoulders.
“Anybody? There are no dumb answers,” he offered up.
Nothing.
He glanced around the room, hoping to make eye contact with any unfortunate student who happened to look up at the wrong time. Most of them were typing away on their laptops, or doodling in their notebooks. Nobody was really paying attention.
Adam hated these classes. He worried about what the students might be thinking, and he struggled to ignore the nagging voice in his head that told him he wasn’t good enough. Not interesting enough, not engaging enough – and judging by today’s crowd, not worth listening to.
Teaching had never been the dream. Acting had. He’d tried, almost making it in his late 20s, but always found himself falling short. He was often overlooked, being cast in background roles or as the occasional guest star, but no role that ever became the role. Now here he was, in his early fifties, teaching film at a college just ten minutes from his apartment. Not his life’s passion, but convenient enough, and God knows he needed the money.
Most days, it was fine. But days like today, he felt useless, unseen and unheard. It reminded him of how he’d felt back when he was trying to “make it”. And Adam hated that feeling.
But today, what he really hated was seeing you in the front row. Head down, attention clearly elsewhere. Your fingers absentmindedly twirling a strand of hair, while your other hand rested in your lap, thumbs tapping on a phone that you were trying (and failing) to hide.
You were brilliant. Intelligent, thoughtful, and sharp. You always listened intently to Adam’s rambling tangents. And you were gorgeous. For those reasons, among others, you were his favorite student. If anyone was listening right now, it should’ve been you. Which is why he was so pissed off that you weren’t.
He paused his movements, leaning back against his desk and folding his arms across his chest. His eyes settled on you, tongue pushing against his lips. Of course, you didn’t notice. You were still far too concerned with whatever you were texting about, lips twitching as you typed away. Completely lost in your own thoughts. Thoughts that involved him, and maybe his lips on your neck…
Honestly, focusing had started to become difficult. It wasn’t because the lessons were boring, or because Professor Scott was dull – actually, it was the opposite. Even if you didn’t have a crush on your professor, this would still be your favorite class. It was obvious that he loved films. You could’ve listened to him all day starting on impassioned rants about dumb movies, or rattling off obscure facts and release dates from memory.
No, the class wasn’t the problem. It was him. And somewhere between the first lecture and now, your attention had drifted. That’s how you’d ended up here, texting your friend increasingly filthy jokes about your stupidly hot film professor.
Adam said your name, casual. An attempt to get your attention. When he didn’t get it, he tried again. This time, louder.
Your head snapped up towards him, guilty. You dropped your phone, pretending you had never been on it at all, and felt your cheeks heating. Everybody in the class was looking at you.
He moved across the room, shoes clicking against the floor, and stopped once he reached you. He extended his hand towards you, palm facing up.
You wished the ground would swallow you up.
“Phone.” He said simply, disappointment evident in his voice.
You blinked at him. “Oh, uh…”
Fumbling around, flustered, you picked up your phone and placed it in his hand. For a brief second, your fingers brushed his palm, and you could feel your heart slamming against your ribcage, noticing how small your hand looked in his.
Adam promptly closed his fingers around the device, turning his back and placing it on his desk. You felt like a child. What kind of professor confiscates your phone?
He cleared his throat. “Ok, now where were we?” he spoke, clasping his hands together again.
If you hadn’t been distracted before, you certainly were now. Your eyes remained fixed on your phone, face up on Professor Scott’s desk, wincing at every vibration. Your friend, undoubtedly, responding to whatever filth you had sent just moments ago.
Professor Scott had resumed his pacing, launching back into the analysis of the film, this time with far more engagement from the class. Nobody wanted to be the next victim of the embarrassment you had just endured. After a few minutes, you had finally begun to calm – that was, until your screen lit up. Right as he passed it.
He paused, and you felt your heart fall somewhere past your stomach. His eyes flicked down, a quick smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, before he continued talking. Like nothing had happened.
The rest of the class went by in a blur, and you’d be lying if you said you processed any of it. You were stuck, turning over the same question in your head. What did he see?
When the hour finally came to an end, Adam glanced at his watch a final time, clapping his hands together. “Alright, guys. Same time on Monday.”
The class was already halfway out the door.
You, on the other hand, hung behind. You couldn’t face the humiliation of approaching Professor Scott in front of the other students, not wanting any more attention than you’d already attracted. You waited until the last person slipped out of the room before approaching him. Adam barely glanced at you, pocketing your phone before you had time to protest.
“Come with me,” he said. Not a request.
Your brain barely had time to process before Adam was grabbing his bag, shoving his laptop inside, and walking out the door. You hurried behind him, feeling a little pathetic. You were painfully aware of your classmates who’d lingered behind, pretending not to watch as you trailed behind the one professor who, until today, had never reprimanded a student in his life.
After what felt like hours, you finally reached the end of the corridor, where Adam’s office was situated. He unlocked the door and motioned for you to step inside.
As soon as the door closed behind him, he was on you. His hand at your throat, guiding you back into the wall.
“You’re so fucking bad, you know that?” He growled.
You giggled, breathless already. “Why? Because I wasn’t listening?” you grinned mischievously. “Nobody else was.”
One thing you prided yourself on was knowing exactly what buttons to press with him, and Adam only confirmed it, tightening his fingers around your neck. “No, not that,” he hummed. “What were you texting about, sweetheart?”
“Just… the movie,” you gasped, as Adam dropped his bag at his feet, his free hand moving to grip your waist.
He grinned at that, his face so close to yours that his nose was brushing up against your cheek. “Liar. What does she know about us?”
Fuck.
Sneaking around with your film professor wasn’t great for your anxiety, and there had been many times you’d thought about breaking it off, aware of how stupid and risky this all was. But right now, pinned between him and the wall, it felt like the best decision you had ever made.
The two of you had been going at it for a while now, the first time being a few months back. You had shown up late Friday at his office, with a few questions about the assigned essay, just as Adam was locking up. Feeling guilty about making you wait, he had offered to discuss it with you at a little bar just off campus. It was one of those places where the grad students hung out, cheap drinks and a sticky floor, so Adam hadn’t felt too weird about it.
It had recently become tradition for Adam to have a few beers on a Friday night. He hadn’t really been a drinker before, but since taking up this job, he’d found that nicotine alone wasn’t enough to help him unwind. Though, since he had company today, he felt he had to ask for your permission. You told him it was fine, as long as he bought you a drink, too.
Any questions you’d had about your essay had been answered within the first fifteen minutes, but the two of you ended up sitting and drinking for the next two hours. Adam was completely enthralled with the company, and grateful to anyone who appreciated his dumb jokes, which happened to be you. By the time you decided to leave, the two of you were tipsy and a little handsy, and one thing led to another…
It should’ve stopped there, but it didn’t. You’d continued, always desperate to get each other alone, stealing moments anywhere there was a closed door and a flat surface.
“You shouldn’t be reading my messages,” you mumbled, avoiding his question, even as his teeth grazed your ear and your knees threatened to give way.
“Should’ve been paying attention then, sweetheart,” he replied. “You think I can’t tell when you’re doing something you shouldn’t be?”
His mouth moved down to your jaw now, nipping there. You titled your head back and sighed in pleasure.
“Have you been telling your little friends about me?” He teased, already knowing the answer. He trusted you, and he knew you wouldn’t put him at risk like that. But still, he was curious…
You were squirming under his gaze now, already embarrassed by whatever he saw on your phone. You had been texting your friend about Professor Scott, but she didn’t know you were sleeping with him, and you had no intention of telling her. It was just fun to gush about your attractive professor.
“I know when you’re thinking about me, baby. I see the way your eyes glaze over, the way you start breathing a little faster, the way you start squirming… kind of like right now,” he teased, as he continued biting and sucking at your neck.
You bit the bottom of your lip to stop yourself moaning out loud and wrapped your arms around him, desperate to break the tension.
“I think you need to be taught a lesson.”
Before you could respond, Adam was scooping you up, hands under your thighs as he lifted you effortlessly and walked you back to the table, dropping you down on its surface.
“I know getting pushed around makes you wet. Tell me, sweetheart, are you wet for me?”
You couldn’t answer him – you both knew the shameful truth.
Adam’s fingers trailed slowly down, until he reached your center, finding evidence of your slick heat. He tsked at you, and you averted your gaze from his eyes, skin burning with shame. Guilty for lying to him, yet helplessly turned on.
Before you could open your mouth, Adam was slipping down your body and kneeling in front of you, large hands spreading your thighs. He kissed the inside of your knee, moving higher, higher, higher – until he reached the apex of your thighs. “You’ve ruined these,” he said matter-of-factly, tugging your panties to the side. “You don’t even care, do you?”
Your wanted to argue, to deny his taunting, but it was pointless. Your voice came out small. “No, professor.”
He laughed, a little cruel, and you squirmed at the feel of his breath warm against you. Then, locking eyes with you, he licked up your slit in one slow, filthy stripe.
You gasped, head falling back, fingers clawing helplessly at the desk. Adam groaned into you like a starving man, lips latching onto your clit.
“Ah, I, I-” you tried, already unable to form words. You’d been with plenty of guys before, but you’d never known a man to be so fucking good at this. Worse, to enjoy it as much as he did.
Your legs began thrashing uselessly beneath you, and Adam only tightened his grip as he continued dragging his tongue over you. At one point, you felt him smile against you. Asshole.
Once he eventually loosened his grip on your thighs, you felt his hand slowly begin to trail down, smearing your wetness. He unlatched his lips from you with a filthy pop.
“Think you can take my fingers, sweetheart?” He asked, gazing up at you with lust-blown eyes.
“Yes,” you agreed, frantically. You took whatever he gave you. Always.
He chuckled at that, fond, and the sound made something coil deep in your stomach. “Oh, baby. You want to. But wanting and being able are two different things,” he taunted.
Your hips lifted in protest, whining at him, and Adam kissed your thigh, mock soothing. “You’re so small, honey. Are you sure this pretty little pussy can stretch for me?”
“Yes, professor,” you moaned, “I can, I promise.” All shame had been lost as soon as Adam put his mouth on you. All you could think about was how to get more of him.
“Ok, sweetheart,” he murmured, placing one more kiss on your thigh. You felt a thick finger sliding into you then, slow and deliberate. Your back arched at the stretch.
“Jesus,” Adam breathed, leaning his head against your thigh, his eyes trained between your legs. “So tight. You really think you can take my cock, baby? I don’t know if you’ll fit me.”
The two of you loved to play this game. Just as you could push his buttons, Adam knew just how to make you beg. And it worked every time. “Please, I can take it,” you cried out. “I promise, I need you.”
Your desperation went straight to his cock, heavy and undeniable now. He dove back in, sucking on you sloppily, and you could feel the wetness dripping on to the table beneath you. He added a second finger, curling it inside you just right, and you cried out at the feeling.
“My needy girl,” he groaned between licks. “So fucking good for me. I could taste you all fucking day.”
You were already close – Adam’s tongue and fingers and words – it was all too much for you.
He could feel it, too. The way your thighs were tensing, heels digging into his spine, hands tugging insistently at his hair.
“Come for me, pretty girl,” Adam said, pulling away just enough so you could hear him. “I want to see you come for me.”
His mouth sealed over you once more, and that was all it took. You shattered. Hands fisting his scalp, your body arching off the desk, mouth open in a gasping moan as you came hard on his fingers.
Adam didn’t stop. He kept licking you through it – slow, thorough – fingers fucking into you until you were crying out from overstimulation and squeezing your thighs shut around him. When he finally came up, lips wet and beard soaked, he grinned at you.
His hand reached up to your mouth, fingers pressing against your lips. “Taste,” he said. He didn’t need to ask twice. You parted your lips, taking his middle and ring fingers into your mouth, sucking eagerly. Your cheeks heated as you lapped at his skin, tasting yourself. “Good girl,” Adam purred, his thumb dragging across your bottom lip.
Your heart was pounding in your chest; the delicious mix of filth and praise had you feeling dizzy.
Still, you were feeling a little bratty today, and you were desperate to see how far you could push.
“See, I knew you could be good for me,” Adam cooed, hand braced on the edge of the desk as he leaned in closer to you. You made sure to catch his gaze before you rolled your eyes at him, muttering a little ‘whatever’. It was quiet enough that anyone else might’ve thought you didn’t want him to hear. But Adam knew better.
He stilled, his grip tightening on the desk now, and raised an eyebrow at you. “Oh?”
You smiled at him sweetly, feigning confidence though your resolve was slipping fast, your skin tingling in anticipation of his reaction.
Adam didn’t move for what felt like hours. His gaze was locked on yours, and you almost began regretting your little act. But then, in one quick movement, Adam was on you. He grabbed your shoulders, pulling you down and flipping you onto your front, manhandling you into the desk. There was a moment of relief when you felt the cool wood of the desk pressed against your cheek. But it didn’t last long.
“That’s how we’re playing?” He growled. You yelped in surprise as he brought a firm hand down and smacked your ass, thankful your skirt was there to muffle the sound of the blow.
You whimpered at the impact, back arching on instinct. Even with pain surging through you, your body was already seeking more. More of this. More of him.
“This was what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Adam hissed, fingers threading through your hair and pulling you up towards him, so he could talk directly into your ear. “Look at you. You’re shaking, sweetheart.”
“Please, Adam, just–”
Before you could finish, you received another smack to your ass, this one harder. “That’s not my name, baby. Or did you forget?” He scolded. His breath was hot against your neck.
You could feel your thighs clenching now, getting worked up at how he was talking to you. It didn’t take much. “Sorry, professor.”
He hummed at that, seemingly pleased. “You’re a fast learner, aren’t you? Now, push that skirt up for me, honey.” He said, placing a hand between your shoulder blades and gently coaxing you back onto the desk.
You nodded quickly, and slowly lifted your skirt up over your hips, eager to please him.
“Fuck,” Adam groaned, staring at the way you looked – panties pushed to the side, wetness glistening under the overhead lights – all for him. “That’s it, sweetheart. Ass up, bent over for your professor. You’re so pretty like this.”
Your cheeks turned pink at his praise. With anybody else, you were sure you’d feel self-conscious. It was the middle of the day, and there were students passing his door barely ten feet away, none the wiser. Not only that, but you could picture yourself from his point of view, imagining that the harsh lights of the office weren’t doing you any favors. Still, with the way Adam spoke to you, you felt safe, even when he was ‘punishing’ you. Your train of thought was broken by Adam pushing his boxers down past his hips, biting back a moan as he freed himself. He pushed forward, hissing as he ran the thick head of his cock through your folds.
Smack. Another spank. The sound echoed through his office.
“Professor,” you keened, shameless with your desperation.
“Shh, sweetheart,” he whispered, his fingers soothing over the red mark of his handprint on your ass. “I need you to be quiet for me so I can make you feel good. You’ll do that for me, won’t you, honey?”
Yes. You would be quiet. In this moment, you would do anything for him.
Adam could feel you pushing your hips back now, already trying to take him in. He smiled to himself, hand habitually stroking over his own length. You were always desperate for him, and it made him so fucking hard knowing just how bad you wanted it.
Slowly, finally, he began to inch into you. You whined out at the stretch, and Adam immediately clamped his hand over your mouth. “Quiet,” he hissed, a stern reminder. “Do you want your classmates to hear you getting fucked into my desk?”
You shook your head fiercely, holding back any noises, not wanting him to stop.
“That’s it,” he sighed, head tilting back in pleasure. “So tight, baby. So wet for me.” He was fully inside you now, and your toes curled at the feeling. You loved the thrill of fucking in his office, knowing that at any moment, somebody could knock, or even try the door. You couldn’t remember if Adam had locked it. The danger of being caught made you shiver.
Adam began moving, thrusting into you slowly. One hand gripped at your hip and the other creeped up your spine, pressing between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned to the desk. You were biting down on your lip to keep yourself from moaning out loud, the sensation of his cock filling you over and over again too much to bear.
“Good girl, there you go,” he praised. Your heart was already soaring at how small he had you feeling. “Fuck, look at you.”
“Professor, I can’t… it’s too much,” you whined, careful not to be too loud. You were becoming overwhelmed already, and you knew you wouldn’t last long. You never did with him.
“Yes, you can,” Adam said, gritting his teeth. “Look at how well you’re taking me, baby,” he glanced down now, watching his cock disappear inside you. “You were made for this, sweetheart.”
You clenched around him then, head spinning and heart pounding from the praise.
It continued like that for a while, the sound of Adam’s hips meeting your skin and your quiet moans filling the room.
After a few minutes, Adam moved the hand that was holding you down and reached around, finding your clit. He began working you up in small, tight circles. “Is this what you wanted, honey? Is this what you were texting about in my class? Your professor splitting you open? Fucking all the thoughts out of that pretty little head?”
You whimpered at that, beginning to feel that familiar sensation building up in you. Adam felt it too, revelling in the way your walls tightened and fluttered around him. “Are you close?”
You hesitated, nervous to open your mouth in fear of making too much noise and have someone hear. Adam smiled knowingly, as if he already knew what you were thinking. “Words, honey.”
“Yes, yes professor, I’m- I’m so close,” you gasped, letting out a wrecked little cry when he hit that spot just right.
He leaned over you then, chest pressing up against your back, and you could feel his breath against the shell of your ear. “Then beg for it.”
Your breath hitched, and you let out a frustrated little noise, so close to the edge. “Please- please professor,” you whined, feeling Adam grin wickedly against your skin.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed. “Come on. You can do better than that. Don’t you want to make a mess on your professor’s cock?”
“I do, I do- fuck, please,” you were practically sobbing. Your eyes were filling up with tears, wanting so badly to let go, but you couldn’t come yet. Not until he said so. His good girl.
“I want an apology,” he said through gritted teeth, hips slamming into you now. “Are you going to keep sending dirty texts about me to your friends?”
“No!” You cried out. “I’m sorry professor, I’m sorry.” Your head was spinning, shame mixed with desire and something else you’d never felt before.
“Okay, honey,” Adam murmured, voice softening as he finally took pity on you. “You’re ok. You’re so good, so good for me. Now be a good little student and come on my cock.”
Finally having his permission, you broke, pleasure washing over you in waves as you pulsed around his cock, entire body going taut. “Fuck,” he growled. “That’s it, sweetheart. That’s my good girl.” Adam gritted his teeth, eyes squeezing shut as he held back his own release.
Once you finally came down, your body went limp, completely spent underneath him. Adam didn’t stop, though, and you let out a strangled cry as he began picking up his pace. He was fucking into you with desperate, feverish thrusts now, chasing his own release.
His hand threaded through your hair again, pulling you up gently so that you were facing him. “Open up, honey.” He said, tapping your chin with his free hand. You locked eyes with him, completely dazed, jaw slack. You were so drunk on him that you barely could comprehend what he was doing, but you obeyed instantly. You parted your lips and Adam leaned over, eyes darkening as he spat into your mouth. “Swallow.” Your legs almost gave out beneath you.
You swallowed his saliva, eyes locked on his, and Adam’s grin faltered for a second, thrusts becoming feral now. “Oh, good girl,” he drawled, “my good little student. If only you listened this well in class, huh?”
Adam’s breath was ragged now, the sound of him fucking into you echoing off the walls of his office. It was obscene.
“Look at you, my brilliant girl, the smartest girl in class… crying and moaning on her professor’s cock,” he taunted. “Maybe I should keep you like this, huh? Always bent over my desk, ready for me. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?”
You could only gasp, eyes fluttering shut as you imagined it. Adam wouldn’t really want that, he was just lost in it, too far gone for a filter. But you knew if it ever became reality, you wouldn’t mind waiting around all day just to be used by him.
“Tell me, honey. Tell me you want that,” he urged. You knew he was close now.
“I do,” you gasped, tears threatening to spill from how fucking good it felt. He leaned down to kiss you then, deep and messy, hips rolling into you with purpose.
“That’s my sweet girl,” he whispered in your ear, before repositioning himself so that he was stood upright. He gripped onto your hips with both hands, fingers digging into your flesh. “You're mine, baby. All mine."
Your fingers curled around the edge of the desk, holding on as your entire body shook with the way Adam was slamming into you.
“How about I fill you up, honey? Is that what you want?"
You couldn’t help yourself this time, letting out a loud moan, and Adam immediately moved his hand back to your mouth. You wasted no time taking his fingers between your lips.
“You’re so good for me. Maybe I’ll even put a baby in you,” he murmured. “You’d look so beautiful, sweetheart. Everyone would know you’re mine.”
All you could do was moan around his fingers, delirious, feeling yourself clench around him. “Dirty girl,” he groaned, playful, noticing the way you fluttered around him. “I’m not going last much longer, baby. You feel too fucking good.”
“I want it,” you managed, voice muffled around his fingers. “Please, professor.” Your voice was so soft and so goddamn sweet, that Adam couldn’t hold back anymore.
He swore under his breath, thrusts sloppy as he spilled inside of you with a broken groan. “That’s it, sweetheart. Take it. Take all of me.” You let out a sob, endless warmth filling you.
When Adam finally came down, he collapsed on top of you, breathless but careful not to crush you under his weight. The two of you stayed like that for a while, your heart still racing beneath him. Eventually, Adam forced himself to move, reluctantly pulling out of you. You whined softly at the loss, and Adam hushed you, planting a few apologetic kisses on your spine. “I know, honey. I know.”
He crouched down then, helping you to pull your panties back on, not bothering to clean you up. “I want you to keep me inside,” he said casually. “Go to your next class like this. No one will know you’ve got Professor Scott’s cum dripping down your thighs.” He looked down at you with a satisfied grin.
You couldn’t help but smile back, your cheeks turning pink for what felt like the hundredth time that day. You glanced at him from over your shoulder, where you were still sprawled on the desk, too weak to move yet. “Yes, professor.”
When you finally pushed yourself up, Adam was already tucking himself back into his pants, and you couldn’t help but giggle. You were aware of how ridiculous and dangerous this was, but the truth was that you’d never been happier.
“What?” Adam said, sheepish smile on his face now as he took in the way you were staring at him.
“Nothing,” you shrugged, stepping into his space and wrapping your arms around his middle. “Just… that was fun.”
“Yeah?” He replied, eyes shining as his arms settled on your shoulders. “Well, maybe we should do it again,” he teased. “What are you doing tonight?”
You paused for a second, pretending to think it over. “Oh, I can’t tonight. I have my English professor coming over.”
He narrowed his eyes at you immediately, giving your ass a playful tap. “Don’t.”
You bit your lip to keep from laughing, swaying closer against him.
“Seven?” You offered sweetly.
“I’ll be there,” he said, no hesitation, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.
You smiled, pulling away from him as you headed towards the office door. “See you later.”
“Oh, wait,” Adam called, hurrying after you. “Your phone,” he grinned, handing it over. “Don’t let me catch you texting in class again.”
You grabbed the phone from his hand, slipping it into your pocket. “I don’t know… I think you might need to teach me another lesson,” you said simply, practically batting your lashes at him.
He scoffed, rolling his eyes at you, unable to help the smile on his face. “Out,” he said, reaching past you to open the door. His hand landed on your ass in one more discreet smack as you left.
“Thanks, Professor Scott!” You called over your shoulder.
Adam lingered at the doorframe, watching as you walked down the corridor, blending in with the other students. All of them totally unaware of what the two of you had done. His teacher’s pet.