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You and Professor Hunt spend the ferry ride back from Catalina sitting close – so close that you can feel the warmth emanating from his hand, right beside yours – but not touching. After your close call on the island, you’ve both come to an unspoken agreement that it’s better not to take any more risks when you’re in plain sight. Not so soon, anyway. While you’re well-known for pushing your luck, Hunt is less so inclined, and you feel like you’ve asked so much of him already.
Your eyes wander around the ferry, coming to rest on a clock on the wall, and you catch a glimpse of the time – it’s barely even past nine, and you can’t help but let out a huff of frustration.
“You know, it figures that Bianca and her groupies still manage to ruin everything for me, even when they’re not actively trying.”
“Ruin everything?” Hunt cocks an eyebrow at you, “I seem to remember you saying something about, and I quote, ‘The best date of my life’. But I suppose I could be mistaken. The conversation happened so long ago.”
You roll your eyes, but let your fingers bump against his for a fraction of a second.
“No, it really was. It was… it was amazing. Probably the most amazing night ever. More amazing than that release party with an open bar… more amazing than…”
“Alright, yes, I get the picture,” Hunt assures you, with an exasperated expression.
“I just wish it could have lasted longer, that’s all,” you say in a softer voice, and his face softens in turn. “I mean, look at the time. It’s only 9:10, and it’s a Saturday. I’ve stayed out later on school nights.”
“Oh, really now.” The gentle expression on Hunt’s face immediately hardens into a glare of warning.
You quickly shoot him a dazzling smile. “Now, now, professor, it’s outside office hours right now. No need to get you boxers in a bunch.”
“I will have you know that my boxers are made from the highest quality material and under no circumstances do they ever have issues with bunching.”His reply is curt, but while his eyes are narrowed, you can see a hint of a smile in them that he’s fighting to keep off his lips. “Regardless,” he coughs and shuffles in his seat, perhaps trying to switch off Professor Mode, “no one has said that the night needs to end now.”
“They did, though. Or rather, we did.” You sigh, leaning into him for a moment before you catch yourself and sit up straight again. “That’s why we’re on the ferry, heading back home. If you hadn’t noticed.”
Hunt sighs, shaking his head. “You know, one of your faults… well, one of many, that is…”
“Hey!” You interrupt. He ignores you.
“…is that you really don’t seem to be able to read between the lines. Though I suppose that’s not a surprising trait in an individual with such little subtlety…”
You ignore the second insult – though not without great effort – and study his face. His eyes are dark, but the emotion you see in them isn’t anger or bitterness. You’re not really sure what it is, but it’s the sort of darkness that draws you in, makes your skin tingle and your heart flutter. He’s not, you realise, done with you yet.
“Wait, are you suggesting we continue this date somewhere… more private?” You keep your voice low as you glance at him sideways, shooting him a conspiratory smile.
One corner of his mouth twitches upwards. “I might be…”
“Well…” You say in a slow drawl, that you hope doesn’t betray your… excitement? Nervousness? You aren’t sure which feeling it is that’s welling up in your chest. “Colour me interested.”
It hasn’t really been that long since you were at Professor Hunt’s for his dinner party at the end of last term, but there’s a different feeling to the house tonight. You peer up at it while still making sure to keep your head low – you’re close to campus now, and the last thing you want is someone recognizing you when you’re about to set foot in a professor’s home. Especially considering that this time, you have no excuse.
The windows are dark, and there’s no faint buzz of conversation drifting over from the backyard, but there’s something about that which makes it even more… inviting. Maybe it’s because you know once you’re through that front door, it’ll be just you and Hunt, the whole house to yourselves. No Jenni, no Bianca, no Marianne. No distractions. No nothing.
He pushes his key into the lock, turning it with a small click, before pushing the door open and holding his hand out to you.
“Come,” he beckons, and you take it, letting him pull you over the threshold. Your heart hammers, and you realise you’re nervous and excited, both at the same time, the two emotions twisting together inside you and making you come alive.
The moment the door is closed, Hunt pushes you up against it, the hard wood against your back and his mouth on yours in a deep, dizzying kiss. You dig your fingers into the fabric of his suit, gripping for support as the sensation of his lips makes your whole body weak and your knees buckle.
“I want you,” he breathes against your mouth, barely pulling back. “I want you so badly.”
“Thomas,” his first name slips from your lips unbidden, “please…”
His hands, which until that moment had been encircling your waist, slide up to the zipper of your dress and rest there for a moment, as if giving you a chance to voice any disapproval. When all you do is begin to loosen his tie, he whispers right against your ear, “May I?” giving the zipper a little tug.
“Anything. You can do anything you want,” you reply, then gasp as he nibbles your earlobe.
“Hmm…” He hums, sounding smug, and then ever-so-slowly, so deliberately slowly, he unzips your dress, letting it fall down your body and pool at your feet.
He steps back and a blush floods your cheeks when you realise the reason he’s doing so is to look at you, eyes running up and down your body, drinking in the sight of you in nothing but a bra and panties. It’s funny, because you’ve been involved in a couple of underwear shoots in your time at Hollywood U, and thought little of it, but right now you somehow feel utterly naked.
“Perfect,” he almost sighs. “You are so absolutely and completely perfect.”
“Funny, that’s not what you said to me when you handed back my last assignment,” you manage to crack a joke, and a flash of surprise crosses his face before it morphs into a smirk.
“Well, it is also possible to create a film with flawless, captivating camera work but an unforgivably shoddy storyline,” he says.
This banter, exchanging wit and pith with him, is something you’re more used to. You start to feel more comfortable, more on-balance again, and you’re just about to shoot back at him something about how it’s also possible for a piece of art to be stunningly beautiful, but also totally pretentious, when he takes you in his arms again and whispers to you.
“But you… you, with your many strengths and flaws and everything in between… you are perfect.”
High praise, you think, especially coming from him. But the words don’t make it to your tongue, because Hunt gets to it first, melding your mouths together with so much passion it almost burns.
He loves me, a voice in the back of your mind says giddily, but you don’t dare allow the thought to become fully-formed. Too soon for that; too soon to do anything other than live in this moment, basking in the feeling of Hunt’s smooth hands caressing your skin, his gentle tongue lazily moving against yours.
“We need to take this to the bedroom,” he murmurs once you part, and you agree breathlessly.
It takes longer to get there than it should, because you can’t seem to keep your hands off one another as you traverse the short distance from the front door to his room.
He loses his tie and suit jacket on the way there – well, more accurately, he lets you yank them off and then carries them in one hand, while keeping the other against the small of your back. Even in the throes of passion, it seems he is incapable of tossing expensive articles of clothing on the ground. You almost expect him to start folding them neatly or putting them on hangers and returning them to the closet once you reach his room, but he just carelessly drapes them over the back of a loveseat before returning his attention to you.
He deftly pushes you backwards until you’re flat on his bed, looking up at him as he towers over you, commanding, gorgeous, irresistible. That dark look is back in his eyes again, and this time you know exactly what it is – want. Passion. Need. You feel yourself coming undone beneath his unwavering gaze, walls crumbling, completely vulnerable, and you know he can see everything you’re feeling. There’s no hiding anymore, whether you want to or not. You feel bare before him, physically and emotionally.
He cups your cheek in his palm, studying you in a way that, for once, isn’t the least bit critical.
“Nervous?” He asks, and you can barely nod.
“Maybe. A little.” You squeeze out, and his mouth curves into a smile. It’s not a mocking one; in fact, it’s a fond smile that makes you feel warm inside.
“Why?” He asks, “I can tell you’re not a virgin.”
“Excuse me--” You start to protest, but he hushes you.
“That wasn’t an insult. I’m merely observing that you’re not acting like this is the first time you’re about to have sex. That is all.” He runs his fingers down your body, brushing over your breast through your bra. “But even so, you’re so nervous…”
“Because it’s you.” You blurt out before you can stop yourself, and you’re embarrassed to find your eyes misting up. “You… I… I’ve imagined this moment so many times, but I never thought I’d ever really get to…”
The look on his face steals your words away, and you trail off midsentence. The emotion is impossible to pinpoint. Affection and want, mixed with guilt and regret, both apologetic and so, so tender that just the sight of him makes you choke up.
“It took me a while. But I’m here now,” he says simply, taking your hand and bringing it to rest against his cheek.
You close your eyes and breathe in deep. When you open them again, he’s shrugging off his shirt and while it might not be the first time you’ve seen him with his shirt off, (because you may or may not have Google-stalked his old modelling photos) it’s the first time you’ve seen him like this, and you kind of fleetingly hope he never puts it back on.
His suit pants go next, and he’s left in nothing but his boxers. You fail to stifle a gasp when you notice the prominent bulge in them. And from the smirk on his face it seems too much to hope that he didn’t notice you noticing it.
“See something you like?” He asks, not shy at all. “If you were expecting me to have the same… proportions… as any of the disappointing high school flings you had, you’re in for quite a surprise.”
You feel a heat between your legs, but his characteristic arrogance also makes you want to take him down a notch, and so you reach out and stroke him through the material of his underwear. His mouth parts in a silent, “oh”. He shivers slightly, and you know it’s not from cold.
You keep teasing him, touches light and gentle, and you can tell from the way his teeth are gritted that he’s trying to hold back the urge to forget about taking it slow; to just pin you to the bed and ravish you.
You can’t say you find the thought unpleasant.
He takes a deep breath, visibly relaxing as he regains control of himself, and then purposefully reaches around to unclasp your bra. He pulls it away from your body, and your nipples harden instantly on contact with the air.
He eases you onto your back, lying you down on the bed again and kneeling above you, one knee on either side of your thighs.
“What am I going to do with you…” He murmurs, absentmindedly circling one of your nipples with the tip of his finger.
You tremble, despite how light, how almost not-there his touch is, and look up at him through hooded eyes, aching for more.
“Professor,” you moan and he looks a little taken aback for a second, before licking his bottom lip, eyes thoughtful.
“You know, I never did quite understand what the appeal was behind all those ridiculous professor-student love affair stories… that… desire for the forbidden…” He cups your breast, seeming to enjoy the weight and fullness of it in his hand. “Until now. Now I know exactly what the appeal is.”
“I hope that doesn’t mean you’re going to be doing this with all the students in your class from now on.” You manage to joke, then gasp as he lightly pinches your nipple. “Sorry, I’ll shut up now.”
He smiles at you wryly. “I don’t think there’s any need to worry about that. You’ve caused me quite enough trouble already, just the one of you.”
You smile back, flirty through your remaining nerves, which are already being melted away by the tingling heat sweeping through your body. “I do plan to compensate you for it, though.”
His voice drops, grows husky. “I like the sound of that.”
“Hope I’m getting something back for it too,” you say, tugging suggestively at his boxers.
He smirks. “Oh, absolutely. In fact, by the time I’m done with you, you’ll wonder why you ever wasted a moment of your time with any of those subpar college boys.”
You slowly pull his boxers down, your gaze not leaving his face. “What makes you think I did? What makes you think I didn’t go straight for the big prize?”
Hunt chuckles, helping you finish undressing him, and places his boxers neatly by the pillows. “I’m not sure I like being referred to as a prize, but I suppose I appreciate the sentiment. I suppose you don’t have terrible taste in everything.”
“I try,” you reply absentmindedly, no longer focusing on the conversation. How can you, when your gorgeous professor is leaning over you, completely nude, erection brushing against your stomach?
“I think you’re over-dressed,” he murmurs right into your ear, before he begins kissing down your neck.
“I’m in nothing but panties,” you protest, but your voice is feeble as his lips kiss over your left breast, and then down your stomach.
“I stand by my words. Over-dressed.” He hooks a finger under your panty line, looking up at you with a smoulder in his eyes.
“I’m not stopping you,” you tell him, and it’s all he needs before he slips your panties down your legs and off your feet. You’re a little embarrassed to see them glisten slightly in the low light of the bedroom.
It doesn’t go unnoticed by Hunt either.
“Someone’s wet,” he says, but he sounds rather pleased with himself.
“Someone’s not complaining,” you shoot back. “And why are you talking so much when you have business to attend to?”
His smile turns wicked, and you’re suddenly full of butterflies again. “My apologies. You’re quite right. Now, where was I?”
You feel your heart start to beat out of your chest as he makes a big show of lowering his head between your legs ever so painfully slowly.
Oh god, this is really happening, you think to yourself. Thomas Hunt is really going to…
Your train of thought completely fizzles out as you feel his tongue on you, deft, practiced and deliberate. Your hands tangle in his hair of their own accord and you can’t help the small cry that escapes your lips. The flat of his tongue rubs against your most sensitive area, and you can feel something building inside you, and oh god, too much, too soon, too…
Another cry leaves your mouth, much, much louder and your hips snap up against his mouth, your body convulsing, eyes squeezing shut. After a few seconds, Hunt pulls away, looking up at you bemusedly.
“Did you come already?” He asks, and you can tell from the sound of his voice that he’s holding back laughter.
“Shut up,” you gasp. It’s difficult to talk when you’re so out of breath. “It’s just… it’s been a while.”
And your technique is amazing. And finally seeing you between my legs was too much to handle. And I was so turned on before we even started that I probably could’ve come from you just looking at me the right way.
You choose not to voice these thoughts, however. His ego definitely doesn’t need any more stroking. You can think of other parts of him that need it, however.
“I’ve achieved a lot in my time, but I must say I think it’s the first time I’ve made someone come in under 60 seconds.” He delicately wipes at his face with his thumb. “But I suppose you’ve never been one to waste time.”
“Shut up,” you repeat, as your face, already flushed from pleasure, grows a shade darker.
He rolls onto the bed next to you, pulling you into his arms. You finally feel him against you, no clothes in the way, just hot skin on hot skin. His erection digs into your thigh and you’re not sure you’ve ever had a man this hard for you before.
“I can’t believe I finally have you,” he whispers into your hair, placing a kiss against the top of your head. “Resisting you was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”
“Technically, you didn’t have to,” you tell him, reciprocating by peppering kisses along his jaw line.
“I felt like I did. But look at it this way… I failed, didn’t I?” You feel him smile against your forehead.
“I’ve never seen you so happy about failing before,” you tease, and he pulls you closer, holding you tighter against his body. It feels like he never wants to let you go. You return the sentiment.
“First time for everything,” he says, and slides a finger under your chin, tilting your head back to look into your eyes.
The way he’s staring at you makes you feel so deeply that it almost hurts, and this time it’s you who pulls him closer, kissing him with such force that you’re sure your lips are going to bruise. He doesn’t seem to mind, returning it with equal fervour and an urgency that reminds you he’s still hard, still wanting you.
“Thomas,” you breathe between kisses. “Thomas, I want it… I want you to…”
He gives no protest. “Good, because I don’t think I can wait a second longer.”
He leans over to his nightstand, pulling open a drawer and retrieving a condom, hastily tearing it open and rolling it on faster than anyone else you’ve ever witnessed. Then he cups your cheek, and you smile up at him, face unguarded, letting him see everything; your nervousness, your passion, and all the love you harbour for him but can’t yet put into words.
He positions himself between your legs, and you feel the head of his erection rub against your folds, parting them, quickly finding the right spot before slowly sliding inside you. You both let out low, breathy moans as he fills you and your body involuntarily clamps around him. You feel like you’re filled with electricity, every inch of your body sensitive yet craving touch, and when Hunt cups both your breasts as he begins to thrust in and out, your whole body quakes.
“You feel so, so amazing…” He breathes, and it makes you need more. You angle your hips a little higher, trying to take him in as deep as you can. He catches on, and does you one better, hoisting your legs up so your calves rest on his shoulders.
His eyes are half lidded and lips are just slightly parted in a voiceless moan, hands roaming your body as if looking for somewhere to rest. He finally takes you by the hips, guiding you to meet him as he slides in and out.
You writhe atop his sheets, unsure if the wonderful sensations coursing through you are because he’s the best lover you’ve ever had, or if it’s simply because it’s him. You can’t stop convulsing around him, and if this is what the universe was forcing you to wait for all these months, between falling for him and finally having him, then you can sort of accept how long it took.
Suddenly, Hunt leans back, taking you with him, and he uses his hold on your hips to pull you up until you’re sitting on top of him while he’s flat on his back, still deep inside you.
“Thought I’d let you do some of the work for once.” He smiles at you cockily, but your head is swimming and your insides are aching with pleasure and you can barely process it. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
You roll your hips on top of him and his smirk is suddenly gone as his eyes roll back in his head and his eyelids flutter shut. Usually you’d feel smug, but all you can concentrate on right now is bouncing your hips and feeling him. All of him. Seeing him coming undone beneath you, letting you take control, has you close to the edge again, but you’re not quite there. You just need something… something a little more…
It’s almost as if Hunt reads your mind, because he slips a hand between your legs as you rock back and forth on him, and begins to stroke you, sending a jolt through your body. You tilt back, allowing him as much access as you can without stopping the motion of your hips. He rubs you urgently and you realize that he must be close too – he wants you to come first. The thought is strangely gratifying and you allow him to take you closer and closer to the cliff, and you’re standing on the edge…
“Thomas… Thomas…” You almost sob as your second orgasm hits, more powerful than your first, and you fall forward, hands on his chest to steady yourself as you furiously ride him through it.
He calls your name in a hoarse shout, finally able to let go, giving one last sharp thrust before falling into a languid pattern, slower and slower, before finally coming to a stop. You crumpled forward onto his chest, and he wraps his arms around you, burying his nose in your hair and inhaling deeply.
Neither of you speak, but your ragged panting fills the room, and the sound of your own heartbeat pounds in your ears. You’re still convulsing from the force of your orgasm, in tiny twitches, and Hunt soothes you, rubbing slow, rhythmic circles on your back with the palm of his hand.
“If I’d known making love to you would be this good, I wouldn’t have resisted for so long,” he says, rolling you off him and propping himself up on an elbow so he can look down at you.
You know that you’re flushed and sweaty, but he’s looking at you like you’re Aphrodite. You didn’t even know until this moment that he could stare at someone with such admiration.
“What, so it’s my body that finally convinces you that you wasted a whole lot of time, and not my amazing company or knife-sharp wit?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow up at him.
“You should learn to take compliments where you can get them,” he replies, and you swat at his arm.
“Thomas.” You chide him, and a gentle expression washes over his face at the sound of his first name from your lips.
“Thank you for not giving up on me,” he finally says, and a pleasurable feeling of shyness sweeps through you, painting a smile across your lips and forcing you to break eye contact. “Thank you for not letting me make the biggest mistake of my life.”
“You’re very welcome,” you say, and he scoffs something about ruining the moment.
A feeling of drowsiness begins to overtake you and your eyelids start to flutter. Hunt doesn’t miss the telltale signs.
“Sleep,” he urges you. “I’ll be right here in the morning.”
The thought is an appealing one, and you close your eyes, head resting against his chest, letting the sound of his heartbeat lull you into a dream.
You can’t wait to wake up beside him tomorrow, for the first time of many.