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“A word in private, Dr. Grace?”
It sounds like a question. An invitation, if you will. But I know better than that. When Stratt pulls you away from a crowd, you follow. No questions asked.
“Sure,” I get up from where I’m bent over my laptop in the lab, double checking calculations that a dozen eyes have already checked before me. Just to be safe.
I follow her into one of the multiple, vaguely eerie dimly lit corridors there are in this ship. “Uh, what’s up?”
“You’re distracted lately. Making mistakes.”
That’s… not what I was expecting.
“What?”
“I get reports. I heard you’ve misremembered the digits of pi twice this week.” And she lifts up an eyebrow, for good measure.
“What?! I mean, maaaybe, but EVERYONE knows it gets a bit tricky after the first 50 digits…”
She lifts up her other eyebrow. Wow, that’s neat. I can’t move my right eyebrow. I can’t even wink. Wait a minute, can I wink? I file that away under things to experiment with later, God forbid I end up winking at Eva Stratt of all people.
“Dr. Grace,” she calls out. Crap. It seems she said something important and I wasn’t paying attention. She doesn’t seem too pleased with me right now.
“I’m just… I’m a bit tired, that’s all,” I run my hand over my face, smudging my glasses. “I’ve… perhaps, maybe… stayed up late for, like, a week and I guess it’s catching up to me now.”
“You are, as of this moment, on sleep duty,” she’s as stern as if she were asking for a report on Astrophage duplication rates.
Did I just hear that right?
“Sleep duty,” I repeat.
“Yes, sleep duty.” She lifts her eyebrow again, as if saying, you dunce. Dang it! Again with the eyebrows.
“I can’t right now… I, uh, I have a lot to do still. Lots of, eh, horny Astrophage waiting to breed. They need me. I’m their wingman. Sort of.” I can’t stop the flurry of words coming out of my mouth, and I regret them immediately. This moment will haunt me for the next two to eleven business years.
Surprisingly, she doesn’t seem annoyed, but rather she seems amused by my display of stupidity. Not that I typically have a hold of my words when I’m around her. She makes me nervous. What with being the most powerful person on Earth at the moment, and all that.
“Go to sleep, Dr. Grace. I’ve disabled your keycard for all labs and workrooms for 12 hours, it’ll only work for your room and the cafeteria.”
“Wow. Well, ok. Yeah. Thank you for that. Really thoughtful of you.”
But it’s no use, she’s already turning around and leaving.
I sigh.
It’s not that I mind being bossed around. If I’m being honest with myself, I’ve done nothing but follow her around since I got here. And I know she cares about me, even if she won’t admit it. In that cold, distant way of hers, at least.
It troubles me to realize that the idea has me smiling in the middle of the hallway. I immediately try my best attempt at a serious face and I head to my room for the night.
…
Well, turns out Stratt was right. I could use a good night’s sleep. Immediately upon entering my room I just melt into the bed and the accumulated fatigue settles over my body like a heavy blanket.
I wriggle out of my jeans and fall asleep on my “Never trust an atom, they make up everything!” t-shirt.
Just a second before that blissful loss of consciousness, I think of her side smirk as I was embarrassing myself in front of her. She probably thinks she was sly and discreet. Mysterious. But I know her face very well. Veeeery well. Every centimeter (ugh, I’m thinking in metric units again) of that quirked eyebrow that I want to kiss.
Wait a minute.
What the fudge was that?
Sleep comes before a response does.
The following day in the lab, I’m just crushing it. It feels smug to admit it, but it’s true. We have double the amount of Astrophage we had yesterday! We’ve finally managed to exponentially increase their breeding rate. Those horny little monsters are getting some!
At least someone is getting some on this ship. I sigh.
I may not have had a huge libido before, that much I learned from every single failed relationship I ever had. But a guy gets lonely every once in a while on a ship so big. Though I have to admit, everyone is so nice to me here. Even Stratt.
I hide a private smile, resting my head on my hand and using my fingers to cover my mouth while I scroll, analyzing the composition of the recently bred Astrophage samples.
I yelp when I feel a hand clasping my shoulder, a whiff of very familiar almond lotion hitting me right away.
“Great job, Dr. Grace.”
I probably nod. Or say thank you. Or something equally appropriate and well-suited for a reaffirming interaction with a superior. At least, she leaves with that half-smile on her lips again, which means whatever I said didn’t upset her or weird her out too much.
Also, I’m hard as a rock in the middle of the lab.
…
WHAT THE FUDGE?
It takes me a couple of minutes to calm down my baser urges. Meaning, so that I’m soft enough that I can stand up and walk around for a bit because, what the heck was that?!
I’m losing it. It’s the only explanation. I’ve been on this ship too long. I’ve been focusing so much on the little star eaters reproducing that I forgot humans are supposed to reproduce too. Not that I’ve ever wanted to reproduce. I mean, I did want to at some point, but it just never happened and then I didn’t have anyone to do it with, but then I had all of my students who were not mine but they might as well be and…
I’m rambling. I’m distracting myself so I don’t think about the fact I got hard from a touch on my shoulder. And from Stratt of all people. I don’t think much about her. I don’t think about her in bed at all. She’s probably like a black widow, in that she eats her mates mid copulation. Wait a minute, that doesn’t sound too bad…
Nope. I’m not going there. That’s exactly what I mean! I’m going crazy. It’s the ship, and the closeness, and being the first person to greet her every morning in the conference room, and memorizing her coffee order (not that that’s too difficult, given she takes it black with no sugar or creamer). I’ve gotten too close. I’m sexually frustrated.
Science says there’s one particularly viable solution to that.
That’s it. I’m doing it tonight. That will set me to rights.
Tonight, I’m jerking off.
I pass through pages and pages of porn videos, not particularly enticed by any of the thumbnails. Wow, that penis is certainly above average size. Am I avera− Huh, who knew a butthole could do that?
I’m getting distracted. And I’m as soft as I can be.
This is not going to come easy for me.
Haha. Come. Easy.
Focus, Ryland!
Okay, this one could work. I tap into “Hot Redhead CEO ties up Blonde intern and makes him beg for it! (HD) (Extended Cut)”.
Hey, everyone has their tastes, right?
I stroke myself slowly as the video kicks off, working myself to half-mast. The actress playing the CEO is wearing clothes that are definitely inappropriate for the workplace, a tight short skirt hugging her legs. Her hair is more strawberry blonde than red, but it’s a lovely shade all the same. She sits in her office, and, not that I’m critiquing here, but it seems the budget for this video is really poor, because they didn’t even try to set a vibe! There are no post-its, pens or even documents in disarray on the desk, just a laptop that the actress pretends to type an important report into. I get that ambience is not what people are here for, but it’s the principle of the thing. I try to think about something else, because now I’m going soft again.
The meek intern knocks on the door before walking in carrying a stack of papers, a blonde guy in a button down shirt that doesn’t fit him all that well, and that seems about to burst if he so much as flexes a bicep.
Turns out, the CEO is very bossy. That’s hot. She commands him into a chair and the guy drops his papers all over the floor. She gets him tied up, hands behind the chair. I can only think that must feel really good. The feeling of being grounded, fully in the moment. Safe and contained.
Oh good, I’m hard again.
The CEO gives the guy a blowjob (meh) and denies him his orgasm every time he is close (hot), tonguing at his tip while he recomposes, then does it all over again. My hand is working faster now, and I stop touching every time she does. I can’t help but think how incredible that must feel. Not having to think about anything but the need for release. And to leave it entirely at the hands of someone else.
I’m whining now, and I bite my lip so that no one overhears me. Closed quarters and all. The CEO has this guy’s dick all the way in her throat now, and he’s pleading for her to let him come.
“Fuuuuuuck.”
Some occasions merit a swear, okay?
The camera changes angles and now I can see everything from the guy’s point of view. I get so worked up with the way she looks up at him through her lashes, kneeling on the floor but still completely in control, how she teases him relentlessly as he begs, and pants, and keens and…
Hold on. The actress’ blue eyes, her hair… It almost reminds me of…
“You’re so good for me, baby. Such a sweet boy. You may come now,” she coos from the screen.
Holy shit.
I erupt all over myself, covering my stomach with come. I grit my teeth and swallow what I’m certain would have been an incredibly loud moan. The sailors on this ship gossip.
I lay my head back in the pillow, staring at the ceiling as I fight to recover my breath.
I’m. So. Fudged.
It becomes a little ritual, after that. A reward, if you will, after a hard day of work at the lab.
I go to my room, I take a shower, and then I jerk off to redheads with blue eyes.
Seems simple enough. Doesn’t hurt anybody. It helps me focus. I am actively avoiding thinking of the reasons behind this behavior. Yes, I’m in denial. Yes, I’m okay with that. (I’m also in denial about that).
There are things you can’t afford the luxury of thinking about when you’re dealing with the end of the world. So I don’t.
One day, Stratt drops a folder on my desk, which is pretty normal. I’ve taken to just pretending to be very interested in the nearest flat surface whenever she’s nearby. She probably thinks I’m weird enough by this point that she just accepts it and doesn’t comment on it.
When I open the folder after she’s left, I see only a green post-it note in her handwriting. “Come see me at my office. 9:30.”
I squirm in my seat. I’m uncomfortable with the idea of being alone with her. Mostly because I fear I will make an idiot of myself, which has a 50% chance of charming her and another 50% chance of annoying her, and a 100% chance of making me hard.
I stay at the lab until 9:20. I can’t even be bothered to go grab dinner with everyone else. I’m jittery and I keep bouncing my leg when I’m not paying attention. I cannot delay this anymore, she hates it when I’m late. I try to not leave my desk too messy and I hurry to leave.
I try to calm myself down on the way there. She probably wants to discuss something about the project. I hope my body language doesn’t spell out Uh, I jerk off thinking about you sometimes as clearly as I feel it does. I feel as if I have a big neon sign on my head that everyone can see except me.
I knock on the door once, and I don’t even get to knock a second time because she’s opening the door. Almost like she was standing behind it, waiting for me. Weird.
She beckons me in and walks over to her desk, and I pretend to be busy with closing the door behind me so I have a minute to steel myself for this conversation. I take a deep breath, and I turn to face her.
“Dr. Grace.”
Crap. She sounds serious. Has something happened with the mission?
“What is it?”
“Please have a seat.”
We both sit down, and I notice then that my heart is pounding non-stop in my chest. I wait for her to break the silence, chewing the inside of my cheek.
“Are you aware that I receive reports on all activities that happen aboard this ship? Both scientific and… non-scientific.”
Obviously. She’s like Big Brother if he were East German and mean in a hot way. Focus, Ryland.
“Uh, yeah. Why?” I haven’t done anything wrong, heck, I haven’t even joined the crew movie nights! I’m typically so tired by then that I just want to go to my room and jerk myself off to sleep.
She turns to look at her monitor. Rude. We’re kind of having a conversation here.
“Right, so what’s “Bossy Ginger CEO Puts Blond Intern In His Place” about, exactly?”
…
“Or this one, “Professor Vixen Fails Himbo, He Begs For Extra Credit (With His Cock!)”.”
…
“Or maybe you'll recognize “Blond Twink Gets Stuck In Washing Machine, Gets Help From Friendly Neighborhood Redhead Mommy Domme”?”.
“Please,” my voice comes out in a pained whisper. I’m staring straight at the floor right now, my body folded in itself in shame.
“Please what?”
“No more.”
I genuinely feel like I’m going to start crying. My face is so hot. How could I ever think she wouldn’t keep tabs on our internet searches?
I’m mostly distraught over the thought that she's realized how I feel about her, and she will have me kicked out of the ship for it. Or executed on the deck by a firing squad. Either way, I will never see her again. And that thought makes me fucking double over like I’ve been hit. My face falls in my hands where they rest on my knees.
Obviously, she’s determined to draw out my misery.
“I’m particularly interested in this one, “Bossy Redhead Makes Pathetic Subby Puppy Come After A Full Day Of Edging”.”
I wince at the familiar words coming out of her mouth. None of those words are in the bible. Hearing them in her clipped, professional voice somehow makes this worse.
“Look at me, Dr. Grace.”
Boy, she really wants me to spontaneously combust out of sheer mortification, right here in her office chair. And I know for a fact she would be put off by the burn mark in her otherwise pristine office space, so I won’t.
I decide to brave this one because I realize it may be the last time I ever see her face. I sit up straight so I can look her in the eyes.
Hold on.
There’s that half smirk again.
Could it be…
“It seems like you have a type.”
Silence. I realize she’s waiting for me to speak.
“Uh. What?” Good one, Ryland.
“You’re a scientist. You recognize patterns. Recognize the pattern and present your findings to me.”
Somehow, she doesn’t sound ice cool like I expect her to. She almost sounds amused.
Is she… enjoying this? Putting me on the spot?
“Welp. I mean. Yeah. When you put it together like that, it does sound, um, incriminating. I mean, there’s a lot of stress involved in this mission, you know. And I, uh. Yeah. You know.”
“Before coming on the ship, your interests consisted almost exclusively of audio porn. Sometimes with male narrators.”
SHE KNOWS ABOUT THAT?
It looks as if she reads my mind because she says, “I had to conduct a thorough investigation on everyone working on this ship. Don’t ask me what else I know about. Could be awkward.” Somehow, she shrugs with her face, without moving her shoulders at all.
“I… I mean. Yeah. Makes sense.”
“Dr. Grace?”
“Yes?”
“What’s your diagnosis?”
“I’m not that kind of doctor.”
“Alright then. What’s your hypothesis?”
“For what?”
“On the subject matter of the sexual desire object of Dr. Ryland Grace.”
I struggle to pick my jaw up from the floor.
“Uh… That guy seems really into redheads for some reason! He should mix it up every once in a while, spice things up a bit. It’s like, he’ll see a redhead and be like whoomp, there it is.”
I make a note to kill myself after, even if Stratt doesn’t.
“But this particular… anomaly… presented itself after you came to live on the ship.”
“You kidnapped me.”
“Not what I’m asking.”
“It does… seem that way, yeah. For no particular reason.”
She quirks an eyebrow. Oh, she’s good at that.
“Come here, Dr. Grace.”
I misheard her. Surely.
“W-what?”
“Come. Here. I will not ask again.”
She leans back on the chair and slightly, so slightly that she could still plausibly deny it, she spreads her thighs.
I must be going out of my mind for real this time, because I feel myself getting up from the chair.
I start walking towards her and she tuts at me.
“Dogs don’t walk on two legs.”
Holy fucking shit.
Double swear. This calls for it, okay?!
It’s almost as if my mind is not synced to my body right now, because I feel myself go down on my knees before I can even think about giving my legs the order.
That infuriating smirk splits her face again. She’s pleased. “Well done, Dr. Grace.” Just those two words coming from her make electricity course through my entire body.
I crawl the short distance on all fours, until I’m looking up at her in the chair. I must be out of my mind to even humor this, I’m sure now she will slap me and yell at me to get out of her office, and to never think about her in that way again…
Her hand comes to my face and I flinch on instinct, and when I open my eyes again she has placed her hand, ever so delicately, on my cheek.
“You’re in dire need of discipline, Dr. Grace.”
I gulp. Am I?
“I will not hurt you. I will not hit you. Don’t ask that of me.”
I shake my head so fast I get dizzy. Turns out, I’m not really into that at all. Thinking about her being upset or disappointed with me makes me want to cry.
“Say you want this. I will not keep going otherwise.”
Right. She’s probably waiting for me to say something. But she can’t just spring all of that on a guy and expect him not to be speechless!
“Please…” is all I manage to get out in a whisper.
“Use your words. Please, what?”
I’m supposed to be smart. I’m a scientist, so I calculate the odds in my mind. While she could have chewed me out already because of my transgression, she has me on my knees in her office, and she doesn’t look at all displeased.
Well, you either go big or go home. I manage to speak.
“Wanna please you… make you feel good, proud,” I realize my voice gets smaller and smaller, as if her sole presence in front of me silences me.
She exhales a laugh I’ve never heard before, which makes me perk up. I look at her as she caresses my lips with the tip of her thumb. “I’m already proud of you, Dr. Grace.”
I’m not ready for the full-body shiver that comes with all the blood on my body rushing to my dick in less than a second. The speed of light has nothing against my bodily functions when properly motivated.
Of course she notices, because she never misses anything. “That’s doing something for you, huh?”
It suddenly hits me that she’s enjoying this too. She enjoys me on my knees for her, unable to string a coherent sentence, flushed to the tips of my ears. She’s so mean. I love that.
I wonder if she’s wet beneath her skirt, and if she put it on this morning because she was planning to invite me here.
She sits back down on her chair, and it seems she reads my thoughts again because she spreads her legs before me, another invitation I can’t refuse. Except that I can. I know that if I showed even the slightest bit of apprehensiveness, she would stop this. But I don’t, so she doesn’t. I am fully in this moment and she knows it, in that infuriating way she knows things because she can see right through everybody.
“Now, as for making me feel good, we’ll see.”
She lifts from her chair to remove her tights up to her knee, and I whine. Shit, I’m really far gone. She puts a hand out and I take it, and she directs it to the fabric. I touch, and she toes off her shoes and kicks them beneath the desk so I get the hint to fully take her tights off.
Every single inch of skin revealed before my eyes is a treasure. The skin on her thighs is creamy and lightly dusted with fair hairs. I want to kiss her all over immediately, so I get a little brave and hope she doesn’t kill me for it. I lower my head to place a kiss right above her knee, as I reveal more of her, and finally I leave the tights bunched up beside her shoes on the floor.
I run my hands from her calves to her hips, almost reverently, savoring the feeling of her bare skin on mine. She’s a bit cold, like I always thought she would be. As for me, I’m feverish just with the sight of her, so I hope my warm hands feel good to her.
I hesitate a little, because I’m not sure exactly what she wants me to do. I do better when following her instructions. But now, she seems content with having me right here between her legs, caressing her skin.
She seems to read the uncertainty on my face, because she grabs me by the hair on the nape of my neck to direct me. Nothing too hard, just enough of a pull to light me up from within. “Do you mind if I ride this pretty face?”
I sputter. Excuse me?! Do I mind?!
I realize after a few seconds that I’m nodding so violently I will pull a muscle. Again, rather than being put off, she is amused by my pathetic display.
There is an almost imperceptible, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it twinkle in her eye. But then again, no one ever gets to see her from this close (I take a minute to thank whatever deity for the position I’m in right now). We’re so close together that if I rose to full height on my knees, I could kiss her.
But I have a job to do.
Commence Operation Make Eva Stratt Come Her Brains Out.
Now, it’s been a while since I last did this, and I’m not certain I was all that skilled at that, but I hope my enthusiasm will make up for my inexperience.
I put my hands to her thighs again, softly beckoning them open. She tuts disapprovingly.
“No touching.”
God. She wants to use my mouth to get off.
I’ve never been so turned on in my life. I think I might come the second I have her pressed hot and wet against my tongue.
I lower my hands and grasp them together behind my back, which earns me a pleased hum from her. I, too, have a few tricks down my sleeve. All thanks to unlimited access to kinky porn on the internet and too many nights spent all by myself.
She raises a bit from the chair and ohgod I can see her panties, a simple black set she starts removing slowly. My eyes are locked in the movement of the fabric as she guides it down her thighs and ultimately, as she discards them from one leg into the pile of fabric on the floor.
I gulp, and she smiles at me, not unkindly at all, as she bunches up her skirt over her hips with one hand and I can see all of her.
I choke on my own spit. “Oh God.”
“Just me, I’m afraid.”
She might as well be God. I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference anyway.
She guides my head towards her again with one hand, the other keeping her skirt in place, and I realize she’s doing it so she can see me as I bury my face in her. As I eat her out.
I close my eyes because the eye contact is getting to be a bit too much, and thankfully she allows it. I take a long, slow lick from her entrance to the top of her pussy, so I can savor the wetness that’s gathered there. For me. Because of me. I get dizzy just thinking about it.
She tightens her hand on the back of my head ever so slightly, and leans a bit further back on the chair. I realize I’ve never seen her relaxed. Just laying back and taking it. I want to be the cause of that, every single day.
She’s looking at me expectantly. Oh, right. I’m daydreaming again.
I lower my head and really get to it then. I start with kitten licks all over her clit, which make her gasp, and I try to make it really sloppy for her because something tells me that beneath that organized exterior, she likes to get a bit dirty sometimes. It’s just a feeling I have.
Spit runs down my chin, as I make sure to caress all of her pussy with my tongue, her wetness mixing with my saliva and making squelching sounds that are muffled by my face.
I spread her fluids around, teasing her clit with my tongue before moving down to her entrance and lightly prodding her there. My nose is buried in her and all I can see, hear and smell is Eva, Eva, Eva. I’m surrounded by her all over; my knees are killing me, my dick is about to explode, yet she is the only thing I can focus on.
She sighs deeply and she moans in between her aborted little gasps. She probably thinks she’s hiding them so well. But she can’t fool me. Her thighs tremble around my face slightly and she’s so wet she’s started dripping into the chair. She’s rocking against my tongue, her hand pulling my hair a little more firmly now, but I don’t mind as long as she allows me to stay right where I am.
“Put your fingers in me. Now.” She’s breathy like I’ve never heard her before.
Well, she did say no touching. It’s not often I’ve seen her resolve crumble. I can only pride myself that my head game is good enough to get her to go back on her word.
I refrain from commenting on it, because I don’t want to press my luck. I circle her entrance with the tip of my index, spitting on it for good measure, and she takes me in so smoothly it barely takes any effort at all.
She feels so warm inside I almost come on the spot. She’s sopping wet, leaking all over my face, and it’s all because of me. She wants me and she can’t even disguise it, not where I can feel the evidence against my mouth.
I don’t think I’ve ever really felt proud of myself, not even when I finished my PhD, but there is no clearer purpose for me than staying right here between her legs, making her feel good. I can only wish she’ll let me do this for her often. Every day, even. She can pull me from the lab and sneak me into a supply room just to ride my face and I’d let her.
I sneak another finger inside her, this one goes easy as well. She opens up around me like it’s nothing, my hand now wet to its knuckles. I’m latched to her clit, alternating between suckling on it, tickling it with the tip of my tongue, and long, broad strokes that I find she likes best because she can rut up against the flat of my tongue and ride it. She’s no-nonsense even in bed.
What I couldn’t possibly ever predict is how beautiful she’d look. Her head is slightly tossed back, and her ever-present frown is scrunched up in pleasure instead of annoyance. Her hair is in disarray and she’s just so captivating, I almost can’t stand the sight. Even her moans sound beautiful, soft little things and whispered words in a foreign language that might be German, though I’m not sure. I must be doing something good if I’ve gotten her to forget how to speak English.
I feel her shaking so delicately and the hand that I keep behind my back instinctively reaches out for her hand on her hip. I grasp it tight and she lifts up her head to look at me. I expect her to tell me off but her half-hooded eyes shine with mirth. I’ve never seen her like this, so carefree in her pleasure. I hope I’m the only one who gets to see it, ever again.
I curl my fingers inside her and I’m barely pulling out anymore, caressing her from the inside as I lick her clit, now a hard little thing under my tongue.
She nudges me impossibly closer to her, and I’m just eating her out with my entire face at this point, soaked through. I’m buried in her, I’m making her feel good, I’m bringing her pleasure. I’m loving her with all I have.
She grips my hair and my hand tight, tensing around me, her back arching from the chair as she comes, her thighs squeezing my face and I can’t breathe for a second but I don’t care because she’s coming, she’s coming and it’s all because of me and it’s so beautiful. She’s so beautiful my eyes sting a little as I lick her through her orgasm and I won’t cry not while I’m here between her legs, and I’m certain her hushed moans she can’t silence are the best thing I’ve ever heard.
She relaxes on the chair after that, her thighs coming to rest on my shoulders. I kiss her one last time (I hope it’s not the last) for good measure and I withdraw my fingers, and I’m about to wipe my chin when she suddenly pulls me by my shirt collar and she kisses me, and I think we’re both a bit surprised that she did that because we just stare at each other, wide eyed while our lips touch for the first time.
We don’t really move or deepen the kiss for a second, until I hold her wrists where she’s gripping me and her lips start moving on mine and we both close our eyes and holycrapshe’skissingme and I’ve forgotten how to do anything but breathe her in.
She’s lapping at me, tasting herself on my tongue. This is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me. I’m suddenly painfully aware of my hard-on, and the awkward wet spot in my pants. I wonder if she would be cruel enough to leave me like this, and if I would love that or hate that. I decide I would. Both, I mean.
I sigh into the kiss, awkwardly rutting up, looking for friction in my pants which only serves to make me more frustrated. She breaks the kiss and her eyebrows are raised, and I’m certain she’s enjoying my desperation. I love it and I hate that I love it, that I’m so easy for her.
“Look at the state of you, pet,” she tuts, all mock disapproval. “It would be really cruel of me to leave you like this.”
And I realize how I must look to her, on my knees with my hair plastered to my forehead, lips shiny with her spit, my eyes tracking her every movement because I feel I will collapse if she’s out of my sight for one second. She’s holding me together from falling apart right now, but I really need her to let me come or I will die.
I realize suddenly I haven’t even thought of touching myself in the whole time I’ve been here, just because she hasn’t ordered it. Who am I kidding, if she decided to leave me like this I’d probably thank her. I’m so far gone it’s not even funny.
She probably sees my internal panic written on my face and smiles, her quick fingers moving to undo my pants.
“Up,” she says, gesturing for me to come on her lap (her lap!!!).
“Uhh…”
Very verbose, Ryland!
“What?”
“It’s not necessary. Really. I just wanted to make you feel good.”
She sighs. “Grace, if you don’t come up here in the next five…”
“Okay, okay!” I relent and get up from the floor. “How do you want me?”
“Here,” she pats her lap, “face the wall.”
So I won’t get to see her face when I come. Bummer.
I settle myself on her lap, my back flush with her chest. My face feels hot. Am I blushing again? Sitting in her lap is somehow really doing it for me. She caresses my arms, she’s holding me, and keeping me safe, and the last time I ever sat on someone’s lap was at the mall when I was a kid and ohmygod do I have a Santa Claus kink?!
No, it’s not that. I wouldn’t feel this cherished anywhere else. I feel her loose hair tickle my skin and I lay my head back, resting on her shoulder.
“Hi,” I say.
“Hi.”
We’re both smiling.
“Are you ready to come, now?”
Fudge.
“Uh-uh.”
“Do you want me to touch you?”
I gulp and nod.
She raises a hand to grip my chin. Ow.
“Y-yes, I’m sorry, yes. Please. Please touch me.”
She hums, pleased. “That’s better. I want you to use your words, now.”
Huh?! There is no way I’ll be able to speak once she gets a hand on my dick.
“You will if you know what’s good for you.”
Am I just projecting my thoughts out loud without realizing or something? How does she always know what I’m thinking?
It would be eerie if it didn’t turn me on so much.
“That was good, you know,” she says, almost conversationally, “surprisingly good.”
I try not to be offended by the fact she was surprised by my pussy-eating skills. Was she expecting me to be bad in bed? Just how thoroughly did she research me before going into my classroom?
“You did really good, pet,” she lowers my pants to mid-thigh, her fingers ghosting over my briefs.
“Really?” I ask, and it may seem like I’m fishing for compliments but I just want to hear it again.
“Mhm,” she hums, and kisses my temple. “Who would have thought that mouth could be put to other use, huh?”
I thought about it. Constantly. I’m only happy she entertained the notion.
“Want you to…” Crap, it’s hard to say this. “Anytime you want, I want to.”
She considers that for a second, and her fingertips caress me through the fabric. “Anytime I want?” She asks, as if the thought of her getting something she wants for herself and not related to the end of the world is absurd.
“Yeah…” I squeeze my eyes tight, the light pressure of her fingers on me driving me crazy. I may come from this only with how worked up I am.
“In the middle of the night, even? You’re saying I could just… go looking for you in your room and wake you up to ride your face? No questions asked?”
My dick twitches in my boxers.
“Holy shit, Stratt.”
“Oh, he curses!” She’s delighted. I’m dying, I’m a dying man and she’s having fun.
“Yes. Anytime. Hell, I’ll come here during your lunch break and you can just − ah − sit on my face, come all over me, leave me all sloppy and fuuuuck…” She’s now started stroking me with her fingertips through the fabric, and she has me babbling nonsense in seconds.
“I don’t have a lunch break.”
“I know. But you could clear your schedule. Just for this.”
At that she quirks an eyebrow, a funny expression on her face.
“This?” And she’s not dismissing me or mocking me, she’s tasting the word and how it flows off her tongue.
“This.”
She smiles. “I’d like that.”
I smile.
Then she peels down my wet boxers, and closes her hand over the tip of my cock. I whine into her neck, gripping the armrests for dear life.
“You’re such a messy boy, Dr. Grace,” she’s spreading my precum all down my shaft, “I’m not sure I want this mess all over my chair. Open up.”
“Uh?” I raise my head from where I’m cradled in her neck and I see her bringing her wet fingers to my mouth, and ohmygod she’s going to make me taste my own precum and whyisthatsohot. I stick my tongue out and take her fingers in my mouth, I want her to leave them there so I can suck on them while she jerks me off. I really apply myself to it, running my tongue in the space between each of her fingers and I pant around them with how hot I am while she hums, so pleased that she’s managed to break me already with just a few touches.
I whine when she retreats her hand to circle my lips with her wet fingers, smearing saliva all over my mouth. “So needy, too.”
She places a sweet kiss in my temple, so I know she’s not too upset about that. I’m drunk on the idea that I’m the only person that sees this side of her. Her regular sternness is still there but mixed with something else, something soft and sweet and just for me to see.
She takes me in her hand again and− “Ah!”
She’s sped up, she’s got her entire hand around me now and I’m so worked up and she’s tugging hard and fast and I’m gonna comeI’mgonnacomeI’mgonna…
“No, you’re not.”
Right, I was speaking out loud.
I can’t be any more pathetic than I am now, sitting in her lap with her hand flying on my cock, so I amp it up to see if she’ll have mercy on me.
“Please, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t…” I grit my teeth, fighting my orgasm because still in this state I don’t want to disobey her.
“You can,” she slows her hand, the most unsatisfying mercy. “Breathe. Deep breath for me, Grace.”
That does help. And it gets her to smile indulgently at me so I’m about to breathe in once more and demonstrate my impeccable lung health (I tried to smoke once to be cool when I was 17 but I only choked and coughed), but she starts stroking me again and I’m unable to think anymore.
“I should have known.”
“Wh-what?”
“You’d be like this.”
Pathetic? Whiny? Needy?
“Hopelessly charming?”
“Cute,” she says, matter-of-factly.
I moan against her neck.
“Say it.”
“Whaaat?” I whine because I can’t focus on anything while she’s got her hand on my dick.
“Say you’re cute.”
My face burns, again. I’m not cute, for God’s sake.
She notices my hesitation and stops her hand. Nonononono.
“‘Mmmmmcute.”
“Yes, you are.”
I’m rutting up and thrashing in her lap. It can’t be comfortable but she seems happy to hold me right here, one of her hands caressing my stomach, my chest and my arms as if soothing me while her other hand works my cock.
“Are you close, pretty boy?”
Ahhh shit, again with the pet names. I may not survive this without burning up in a flash.
I nod, and I whine, and I nearly scream with the need. “Yes,” my voice comes out breathy, “please.”
“Hm, I don’t know…” She can’t sound this composed while she’s got my dick in her hand. It’s unbecoming. “You’re not convincing.”
I actually yell with the effort of holding it in, and she shushes me like a wounded animal. Her hand strokes me from balls to tip, twisting her hand at the top, and the obscene, slick sounds reverberating in the room are enough to make me shoot up like a fountain.
But she doesn’t want me to, so I don’t.
“Please, ma’am…” I’m weaponizing her own title against her now, sue me. My dick is three shades redder than my face right now and I’m about to explode. “I’ve been good. I’ve been so good for you. I’ve been a good boy…” I can’t finish the sentence without breaking, and I sob into her neck.
She nuzzles against my face and strokes me luxuriously. “Yes, you have. You’re so good for me, Grace. All the time. Always doing as I say. Always following me around. So talented, so good…”
“Please…” One of my tears runs down her neck, my hips lifting from the chair as I chase her hand.
She kisses my cheek, my temple, and everywhere she can reach. She lets out an agitated breath, the only sign this is affecting her so far. She talks me through it, whispering sweet things in my ear, just for me to hear.
“So pretty like this… So desperate…”
My wetness runs down my balls, coating her hand and making it all so slippery and messy. I grunt with the effort and grip the armrests so hard I’ll rip the leather. She’s so cruel with the way she’s making it last and I hate it and I love it and it drives me crazy and it grounds me, and I’ve never felt as alive as I am right now, right here in her arms.
“Come, Ryland. I want you to come all over yourself for me. Can you do that, hm?”
She’s not even halfway through her sentence when I burst, thick hot ropes covering my shirt. I shut my eyes tight, face buried against her neck. I groan at the feeling of pressure unraveling in my lower belly, her hand still touching me, milking me through it. Just like I swallowed her through her orgasm. She’s still talking, soothing me, but I can’t hear her over my own moans. I’m not even trying to hold them in anymore.
My head lulls back in her shoulder and I pant, the pure blinding pleasure making me so stupid I forget how to speak. She’s chuckling, she just made me come so hard I saw stars and she’s chuckling.
I look up at her, exhausted. “What’s so funny?”
“It’s nothing.”
Now I’m interested.
“C’mon,” I paw at her hand where she’s tracing figures into my hip.
She smiles a private smile, like she’s thinking something really cheeky. “Hee-ey. I like that smile.” I realize I sound dopey. How could I not?
“I was just thinking…”
“Bad idea that.”
“Shush. I was thinking what would the title be for what we just did.”
Title? Well, I didn’t think she’d want to put any labels to it or anything. Not an affair, not a relationship, but a secret third thing.
She actually laughs at whatever she’s thinking, a weird little noise like an ostrich dying. I immediately love it. “How about “Redhead Boss Makes Nerdy Scientist Come Hard In Her Office”?”
My jaw falls. I sputter and that somehow makes her laugh even harder. “That’s− that’s not cool, Stratt!”
She puts my dick inside my pants again and zips me up, patting my thighs. Oh. I have to get up. Right.
I should probably be suave about this. This was really intense for us both and I want to treat it with the respect it deserves.
“Uh…” I get up on my feet clumsily and turn to her as I fix my clothes. “Can we do this again? Like, ever?”
So much for suaveness.
It seems to charm her though. She smiles softly and stands up to give me a quick peck on the lips, and she helps me button up my cardigan. Probably so it can hide the come-stained shirt below it. Smart.
“Yes. Now go get some rest. The world is counting on you.”
I give her a kiss back. I half expect her to deny my audacity, but she allows it.
“Go.”
I smile, looking down at my feet. “Good night, Eva.”
What? It’s only fair. She called me Ryland when I was shooting my brains through my dick.
“Out.” She pushes me towards the door, but there’s no real heat in her voice. “Good night, Ryland.”
I close the door on my way out, and I walk to my room with a smile on my face the entire time.
When I go to bed, I sleep soundly like I haven’t in ages, to dreams of red hair and blue eyes, no longer in a stranger’s face.