Chapter Text
The lack of any real friends in your life had never really bothered you. You always thought that you didn't need anyone, not after all this time of solitude. That all the students here were nought but acquaintances that would eventually pass you by, transient presences that, ultimately, meant nothing.
You had been self sufficient all your life- the idea of depending on or being vulnerable with someone else was unheard of.
You sat on the edge of your bed and took your shoes off, sliding them off of your feet. Haphazardly you chucked them to the corner of your room, and placed the book gently beside you on the bed, its weight sinking into your covers like a stone difting beneath the surface of a lake.
But tonight your mind was a mess. Burning, blazing, set alight with thoughts of your new professor.
You hadn't ever been the type for silly schoolgirl crushes, and interactions with the opposite sex were few and far between. One boy spoke to you for about a day when you first started here, before he found out that your family wasn't affluent, and that was that.
It felt… weird that the most conversation you had here was with Professor Kennedy, and, well, he had been here for all of two minutes.
And fuck, was he bothering you.
You let yourself fall backwards onto your mattress, bouncing against the springy surface as you let the covers surround you, a field of fluff caressing your skin. There was a constant, rhythmic pulse between your legs, a foreign feeling that usually came and went- becoming easily suppressed over the last few months.
But as you lay there, your eyes fluttering closed- staring at the back of your eyelids and enveloping yourself in the welcoming dark, only one image graced your eyes. And, to no surprise, it was him.
Lingering. Watching. Teasing.
Were you really that desperate that a few days of gentle, kind words and a bit of decency shown from a man was enough to get you riled up?
You groaned in embarrassment as if anyone were there to witness your flustering. As a virgin and, admittely, a little bit of a prude, sex, masturbation, it was all just a little... much, for you sometimes.
And these feelings had never been this strong before, never this raw or demanding.
But you were human, at the end of the day. The urges pulled you under the rippling tide, and the overwhelming need to satiate yourself prevailed above your nerves.
Throwing an arm over your eyes, your other hand briskly slid down to the opening of your pants. For a moment your thumb and forefinger trembled with a mixture of excitement and need, and you struggled to pop the usually simple button open- typical in a time of urgency.
You groaned softly and quickly moved both hands to the smooth surface, practically ripping the button through the hole before finding the zipper, pulling it swiftly down. The teeth released, the sound as they seperated an almost deafening knell as if to announce your sin.
But the fact of the matter was, you couldn’t stop. Not in your heated state. All of this suppression, all of your sexual repression was just catching up with you, you justified. It's not him, anyway, its just the idea of an older man.
Not.
Him.
Shimmying out of your pants, you tugged your feet out of the legs and almost frantically kicked your fabric shackles away, shifting back onto your single bed now in just a shirt and your panties. They were simple, black cotton briefs, almost boyshorts that were covering and comfortable. Right now though, they were about as useful as a sword in a gunfight.
You hooked your trembling thumbs into the waistband and dragged them down your legs, discarding of them in that same manner you did your pants. As a soft breeze stroked at your inner thighs and the apex between them, you shuddered with anticipation.
The utter desperation to get yourself off was coursing through your veins, an anticipatory chill wracking your body while heat attacked you from all sides, every soft and newly exposed curve of your body bludgeoned with arousal.
Your fingers dipped to your lower abdomen, sliding south along the soft skin and following every soft bump, reaching the mound of your pussy before delicately contacting the velvety skin beneath.
A sharp breath drew into your lungs, and they traversed lower, the pads of your fingers slickening as they met the soaking entrance, sensitive and almost ticklish.
You drew them back up, swallowing heavily as a silver string connected your fingers to yourself, before splitting as a result of the growing distance, wisping away into the air like dissipating water on a sweltering summer's day.
Your clit throbbed with an ache that couldn't be ignored, and eagerly you relented, sliding your fingers to the hooded nub, applying a gentle pressure that- already- had your legs tensing, a soft moan seeping from between your teeth.
You sunk them into the plushness of your bottom lip, legs spreading slightly wider as a circular, innate motion guided your wrist like a divine teacher.
You let your head loll further back into the cushions positioned just below the headboard, exhaling heavily. That sweet, torturous, slow dance of skin against sensitive skin quickly became more urgent, a mounting pleasure tingling in your gut, hips beginning to buck and writhe under your own administrations.
It was as if you couldnt bare being still- a tingle shot up each limb, up your torso, sparking like a faulty lighter beneath your skin.
Behind your eyelids, imagination roving wildly, a distinctly male figure was there, between your legs, his tongue in place of your fingers.
Your fingers curled into the covers as your knees rose and your hips lifted from the mattress, crying out- a pitiful, ambrosial whimper that would arouse even the purest of angels.
The knot winding itself into loops, buried in your stomach suddenly unravelled. It pulled taut, the rope splintering and vibrating with the force, as if two heavy weights tugged at its fraying ends.
With fluttering eyelashes, climax struck, a heavy, burdening slice of heaven that had any and all tension dissipating- instead, pleasure drowned you.
"Thats it. Good girl..." His voice would whisper, eyes staring up at you as his lips kissed at your flesh, delighting in your taste and the rush of your pleasure. All by his doing.
Your stiff fingers continued through your orgasm, soft whines punctuating each jerky motion, before eventually your body collasped, your hand cramping slightly. Wholly relaxed, you let yourself slump back against your mattress, but as you closed your eyes, you knew who you had been picturing this whole time.
"Thats my girl," The vision of him continued, a carefully constructed, but false, fantasy. His cheek pushed up against your inner thigh- you felt as if he really was there, a phantom. "You look so pretty like that. A sight all for me, huh?"
All you heard was the perfectly distinct imitation of a belt buckle coming undone, before your eyes shot back open, rearing upright, and the vision was disturbed.
It took a moment to realise that the cause of your cravings, and the image that spurred you through the experience, was Leon.
Undoubtably, unmistakably, your new teacher.
You felt as if your body couldn't possibly get any warmer and yet, you swore your temperature cranked up high.
A bead of cold sweat rolled down your spine, slowly descending down your heated bare skin.
What was this feeling? Guilt? Disgust?
…Intrigue?