Ceilings

[imofftotheraces]

Title: Ceilings
Pairing: Teacher and student (of age)
Rating: M
Summary: Odd musings mixed with sexual activity.

Sometimes she whispers, “Fuck me" as she grips his striped, offset tie in a stuffy room.

 

There are no windows, just furniture, and she tilts her head back in surrender, allowing him to nuzzle her neck. She feels nothing but the humidity from outside seeping into the corners of the room, feels nothing but the itchiness of their bodies, the friction causing her to moan. He pulls her hair, the long tresses getting lost in his fingers. She doesn’t mind, in fact, she welcomes the pain and the way that in the midst of it his mouth finds her pulse point. He sucks gently, the skin slowly massaged by the soft pumps of his lips. She hitches one leg up and he takes the other, setting her down on his desk. It is far past his designated office hours and it appears most of campus has gone home (not that she would notice anyway).

 

She pulls at his dress shirt, the buttons popping off one by one until he halts her hand, saying something about the expense of shirts and the hassle of shopping. She’s stopped listening. Instead, she kisses her way down his chest, brushing the hair lightly with her cheek on her way down. She sucks around his navel while he groans from above. As she reaches the belt in his pants, she looks up at him, slowing undoing the buckle and sliding it through the loops. His eyes flutter closed for just a moment, and she memorizes the feeling of power.

 

She unbuttons his pants and slides them down his legs, tugging at the waistband of his briefs with her teeth before allowing them to snap back. He pulls her back up and strips her bare, spreading her legs wider than needed and just enough to make her feel vulnerable. He sinks into her and she watches the various books on his shelves, each one in alphabetical order. She moans as he hits a sweet spot, his entire being covering every inch of her. His bows his head down and takes her right nipple in his mouth. She tightens around him and he picks up his pace, the hard wood of his desk pressing into her back and making her feel simultaneously wanted and used. She is close; the room looks less bare and more magical the harder he thrusts, the lighter he kisses her neck.

 

He grips her tightly and she returns the gesture, clinging to him as if he were a life jacket, as if she would float away without his weight.

 

"Come for me," he demands, his lips sliding against her ear and making her shiver. She looks up at the decades old ceiling, the plaster weak and crumbling, yet completely enveloped by support.

 

Her legs wrap around him and he breathes raggedly against her right temple. She cannot breathe, the walls close in slowly and then all at once.

 

“Come for me,” he says again, his voice less gentle and more desperate. He trails kisses from her jaw all the way down to her chest, and the feather-like touch is the catalyst for her release.

 

She shuts her eyes tightly, digging her nails into his shoulder until he cums inside of her, the sensation warm and full, the way a fireplace slowly heats up a whole room. He slides out and pants against her stomach as she strokes his hair, murmuring soft words against her skin.

 

She breathes slowly, counting the precarious tiles on the ceiling, wondering when each of them will fall, and if she will be left beneath the rubble when they do.