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The sounds of pages turning and soft, murmured conversations in the LBJ library washed over Hermione as she worked on her required class reading. Over the past hour, her heart rate had been steadily increasing, her nerves on fire. She had her Deviant Behavior class with Professor Lupin next, and she was both nervous and excited about what he thought of her most recent paper. Her mind drifted, imagining him reading her words, wondering about the reactions and feeling a thrill right down to her core.
Hermione wanted to be a criminal psychologist, and she had been over the moon when she was accepted into UT-Austin. From the first semester, she was enraptured with Professor Remus Lupin, a former criminologist for the FBI. Taller than most men, with his shaggy brown hair and piercing amber eyes, his magnetism was alluring. She had taken every single course he taught since she attended his Introduction to Sociology class her freshman year.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the trill of her alarm, a reminder to head towards Burdine Hall if she wanted to arrive early well before others; ensuring her spot at the front of the class directly in front of the man she dreamed about nightly.
Gathering up her various items, she shoved her books into her shoulder bag, and rushed out of the library. Her trek across campus was simple enough; the campus was set up for convenience and ease in getting around, and she effortlessly dodged students in her path.
The day was uncommonly chilly for an early spring afternoon in Texas, and she tugged her jacket closer around her. Her curls whipped into her face and her bag bounced against her side as she set a brisk pace. It was a straight shot from the library to the building that housed her class. Most days it only took her about twenty minutes to get there, but she was hoping to beat that time. Nothing would prevent her from seeing his reaction to her words. She adored the way his eyes turned from smooth cider to smoldering when his emotions were heightened.
She loved to debate him, taking every opportunity to provide an alternative viewpoint to the discussion. He called her a little devil, the reason they could never move on from a topic, with her counter to every argument. The nickname he had given her was all the more reason to goad him. Professor Lupin was an excellent sparring partner, and his amiable demeanor kept his words calm, though his voice became gravelly, and his eyes would penetrate through her when they swung in her direction.
She craved to know what it would take for him to lose control. What he would look like. Sounded like.
As she neared the building, she felt a shiver down her spine. After taking numerous classes with the private and solitary man, she knew he kept office hours on Tuesday afternoons. She tried to find any excuse she could to schedule time with him. He was always pleasant with her, but he never gave any indication that he was receptive to her flirting, and he was consistently stoic and professional in their private sessions together.
She was determined to finally break him.
There was no way that the most recent paper she wrote on sexual deviance would not cause a rise in him. Perhaps even enough of one for her to be asked to his office today. The anticipation of what might happen, how he would rake his eyes over her, what he might say, had her panties drenched.
In preparation, she chose to wear a short black skirt, a white, sheer blouse with a crimson push up bra underneath. She knew when she sat down, he would be able to admire her long, lean, copper legs and the outline of her full breasts. She left her hair down on purpose, avoiding the usual bun she sported for class. Ringlets fell to her clavicle, grazing the skin above her low cut top with a silver chain with a moon nestled into her cleavage. She had planned everything to the most minute detail, hoping it would finally set in motion her truest desire.
A night of passion and debauchery with Remus Lupin.
Motion next to the entrance of her targeted building caught her attention, and she witnessed the man in question as he ground a cigarette under his cowboy boot and bent down to grab the bud. Flicking it easily into the trash can next to the front door, he shifted enough to catch her eyes. When he gave her a small smirk, the energy throbbing through her was enough to set her entire body alight.
How was she going to be able to survive a full hour of class? Just that smirk had the gusset of her lace panties sticking to her. A breeze picked up, slipping under her skirt to caress and cool her core with instant relief.
Checking the time on her phone, she found that she’d made it in record time, twenty minutes to spare before class. Hermione knew of a small alcove she could hide in, usually shadowed and deserted. Unable to resist her building desire within, and aching for a release, she hurried to the spot. Ensuring she was alone, Hermione lifted her skirt, caressing her thighs with her fingertips in slow circles. The moment she made contact with her swollen center, she gasped loudly, the sound carrying further than intended.
Clasping her other hand over her mouth, she continued to rub along her panties, and the friction she created was a delicious blend of pleasure and reprieve. It didn’t take her long to feel her cunt clench around nothing, the flutter of her core a crescendo as she came, making her panties even more wet as her slick leaked through to coat her inner thighs.
What a mess she’d made of herself.
Her first instinct was to use her skirt as a fan, but that only sent another wave of intense feeling coiling up her spine. Rummaging around in her bag, she couldn’t even find a tissue to sop up her mess. She had to get to class to secure her spot. The idea of leaving herself wet and spent set another idea in motion. Hurrying out of the alcove, she rushed to get to class, desperate to be seated in the front row.
She had to ensure that Professor Lupin had a perfect view.
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The rising anticipation as she pushed open the classroom door was like a form of edging. Her breath caught when her eyes fell on Professor Lupin, head down, rummaging through papers. He usually looked up when she entered the room, but he appeared distracted by what was in front of him.
No matter.
The room had only a few of her classmates, and her usual spot in front was unoccupied. Scooting in, she made sure to let her skirt flare around her. She caught motion in her periphery. Daring to glance up, she found the stoic man observing her movements. Feeling brave, she gave him what she hoped was a seductive smile, her eyes burning with desire.
Her professor gave only a small nod, turning back to his desk. The angle from where she was sitting gave her an excellent vantage point to the man that haunted her dreams. He favored lecturing propped up on the desk, but would occasionally pace the front of the classroom.
The rest of the students trickled in over the few minutes before class was set to start. Hermione busied herself with taking out her notebook and a copy of her paper on deviance. If he asked about their work, she was prepared to reference her own materials.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen,” Professor Lupin’s voice projected across the class, his deep baritone creating a wave of gooseflesh across Hermione’s skin.
The class murmured back greetings.
“You were all tasked with sharing a social taboo that is considered deviant or immoral, and provide your opposing take on the subject,” he stated, lifting up the stack of papers he had been carefully reviewing earlier.
“I am pleased to see that so many of you are willing to challenge the status quo. Taboo topics and deviance are often interconnected within society. While those norms are not always a shared construct, they are dictated by what those in power have determined are socially acceptable.”
Scanning the room, her professor dropped the papers back down on the desk. Leaning against the wood, his rounded ass and muscular thighs were accentuated by a pair of tight wranglers, and his cowboy boots were crossed at the ankle.
As she lifted her eyes back up to his face, she found his penetrating eyes back on her once more.
“Some of you pushed the topic even further, sharing personal experiences. Your vulnerability is commended.” Her professor did not look away, scanning slowly down. Hermione took this perfect opportunity to uncross her legs, canting her hips forward, giving him a glimpse of how soaked she was.
“Today we will…” Pausing, his words caught in his throat, and she knew she’d had the desired effect.
“Ahem, excuse me,” he said, his voice hoarse. He stood, walking across the front of the room, hands in his pockets. He shot intermittent glances back at Hermione as he continued speaking. “Today we will be discussing some of the class papers, and dissecting their connection to past, current, and future norms. Does deviance always equate to unacceptable behavior?”
The afternoon went by in a blur, conversations and debates covering topics from positive defiance, workaholics, and wearing clothes not considered appropriate for specific settings. Hermione found herself getting antsier by the minute, the conversation regrettably not steering to more difficult topics of sexual deviance and taboo relationships.
“Okay, so we have about fifteen minutes left. How about one more? Shall we ask for a volunteer this time?”
Hermione raised her hand, thrilled at her opportunity to discuss an intense topic.
Professor Lupin’s lips twitched. “Ms. Granger seems very eager to share her thoughts.”
The class shared a small laugh at her expense, but she was used to being the class know-it-all.
“Without going into too many personal details, Professor, I would like to discuss power dynamics.”
His eyebrows lifted, the surprise on his face sending a jolt right to her core.
“Power dynamics, such as?” He goaded her with a knowing look.
Rising to the challenge, Hermione was well prepared. “According to some psychology journals, a relationship that contains a person perceived to have a higher power dynamic with that of a willing partner who might be seen as a lower power dynamic, can be both sexually fulfilling and a base for a strong relationship. The key of course are consenting adults and healthy boundaries.”
“So… Authoritative figures and their socially classified subordinates?” Professor Lupin looked at her with a heated gleam in his eyes.
Another student’s voice cut in behind her. “What are you saying? Like, a sub and dom thing?”
Turning her head to look at Cormac, knowing that he was not the sharpest, she shook her head.
“You’re oversimplifying the statement made. Consider an example of a bodyguard and the person they were hired to protect. That relationship has a socially acceptable dynamic. One protects while the other is protected.” Hermione raised her eyebrows. “What happens when there is attraction between these individuals?”
“So, you’re calling out that in that instance, if they both consent, then that can be healthy versus what would normally be seen as someone in power taking advantage?” another student asked.
“I would argue that in most power dynamics, consent can be dubious at best. A boss and their employee, or even a student and their teacher.” She shifted back to look directly at Professor Lupin, his eyes trained on her.
Spurred on by a slight nod, Hermione added. “However, adults can still have healthy relationships, even when these are looked at as taboo or deviant. Boundaries should be well defined by those in the relationship. It might be grey for some, but clear for others.”
“Well, Miss Granger, you will get no argument from me.” Her heart fluttered at the attention and his words.
“Although, we do have to be reminded of the opposing arguments. Some psychology journals also indicate that sexual desire can continue to be heightened by those in power, while those outside of the power dynamic might start losing their desire.”
Professor Lupin lifted his left arm up, pulling his sleeve back to look at his watch.
“That is all our time for today. Let’s pick this up next week. Graded papers will be given back at the end of this unit.”
The din of students discussing amongst themselves reverberated around the room. That last dismissive statement from Professor Lupin deflated her hope, and she pushed down her disappointment. She gathered her items, shifting out of her chair to exit the room.
“Miss Granger.”
Did she hear that correctly? Did he just call out for her or was that wishful manifestation?
Unsure, she turned around to find him staring at her, eyes ablaze.
“Ms. Granger, I would like to see you in my office in about an hour, if you can make that time work.”
“Yes, Professor. I can be there.”
“Excellent. See you then, Hermione.”
Oh, fuck. He used her first name.
Don’t panic, stay calm.
Hermione gave him a curt wave, tamping down her rising desire. A crooked smile formed on his face as he acknowledged her with a small nod.
Fucking hell.
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She straightened her skirt and adjusted her top, making sure her cleavage was visible. Shaking out her hands, she attempted to quell the jitters in her gut.
She could be reading too much into their earlier interaction. Perhaps he wanted to discuss her paper, give her pointers on expanding her research, or editing to improve her grade. There was no firm indication he was having carnal thoughts about her.
Shifting the strap of her bag, she knocked on his solid office door.
“Come in!”
Turning the knob, she felt the handle click, and she pushed the door open slowly. His office had a homey feel; bookshelves lined the walls, cluttered with professional journals, large tomes, and the occasional trinket. His desk sat centrally, with neat stacks of papers, a bowl of candies, and his name placard. Two comfortable chairs sat angled in front of the desk, both manufactured with soft leather and large metal furnishings. A stand lamp in the corner cast a soft light that blended with the glow of his desk lamp, both casting shadows over the face of the man in question.
Professor Lupin sat in his oversized desk chair, elbows on the arm rests, hands folded in his lap. He was still wearing the jeans from earlier but now had them paired with a flannel that was partially unbuttoned, a hint of chest hair peeking out.
“Miss Granger. Right on time. I do so value punctuality.” One side of his mouth quirked up. “Please lock the door behind you.”
“Lock the door, Professor?” she questioned, her heart skipping a beat.
“I’d prefer for our time to be… uninterrupted.”
A coiling heat bloomed low in her belly. Without a word and maintaining eye contact, she reached behind her and clicked the lock.
“Good girl,” he murmured.
Her panties were instantly soaked… again. Of course he would know she had a praise kink.
Hermione strutted over to one of the leather chairs and sat, crossing her legs demurely.
“So, tell me, Professor, why did you call this meeting?”
Professor Lupin shifted forward, moving his elbows to his desk. “I wanted to discuss, in depth, the topic you covered in your deviance paper.”
“In depth?” Hermione leaned towards him, biting her lip. “Just how deep are you interested in going, Professor?”
“As far as you’ll let me, Hermione.”
She would let him bruise her fucking cervix.
“So…” She traced her finger over the edge of his desk. “Power dynamics between someone in a position of power and his subordinates was my main topic.” She glanced up at him through her long lashes. “A situation not unlike what we have.”
“Correct, if our position happened to be a little less professional.” Professor Lupin smirked.
“Or formal.” Her eyes traveled over the flannel covering his chest. “Speaking of, seems you’ve changed.”
“I can take it off if it makes you uncomfortable.”
He was giving her an opening, and she jumped on it.
“I think maybe that’s a good idea.”
He leaned back in his chair, spreading his arms wide. “If you want it off, Hermione, you will have to remove it yourself.”
“Are you asking? Or demanding?”
Giving her a pensive look, he drummed his fingers on his desk. “Are we trying these roles on for size?”
“Roleplay is an excellent way to work through a problem.” Her eyes glittered with mischief.
“Come over and remove my flannel, Hermione,” he ordered.
Hopping up immediately, she hurried around the desk. As she reached out for his chest, he grabbed her wrists in one of his large hands, halting her. He patted his knee.
“Sit first. Then you may resume.”
Her gaze traveled down to his firm, jean-clad leg, and her internal heat ratcheted up. The idea of riding his thigh to completion flashed through her mind, and suddenly she could think of nothing else. Her already drenched panties would surely soak into the tough fabric in no time, and he would know exactly what he does to her.
Perfect.
Straddling his leg, she pulled her skirt up until it just barely covered her knickers and slowly sunk down. She angled her hips in such a way that her apex would drag deliciously when she reached for his flannel. One of his hands came to rest on her exposed skin, his fingertips just millimeters from the hem of her skirt.
“Very good, Hermione.”
She preened at the praise, tilting forward to grasp at the buttons on his shirt. As she did so, his thumb glided up to brush over the gusset of her panties. A strangled cry slipped out, and she fisted his shirt for balance. She rocked her hips, chasing the friction, but he slid his hand back to rest on her knee.
“Professor,” she whined.
“Unbutton my shirt, Hermione.” His fingers dug into her soft flesh. “Good girls get rewarded for obedience.”
Swiveling her hips, she acquiesced, and her hands loosened on the plaid material. Her fingers deftly unbuttoned his top and pulled the sides back. Hermione’s mouth went dry at the sight. Tan skin from the Texas sun was stretched tight over ridged muscles, and Hermione ached to trace every divot with her tongue. A patch of tawny chest hair sat between his hardened, dusky nipples, and the hair trailed down to somewhere below the waistband of his Wranglers.
“Well done,” Professor Lupin murmured, and his hand moved back to the top of her thigh. He rubbed over her center with more force this time. Placing one hand against his bare chest, her other hand grabbed his forearm as she squirmed against his touch.
He circled his thumb, adding additional pressure. “So responsive for me. How does this feel, Hermione?”
“So good,” she breathed.
He hummed, narrowing his eyes. “How does this interaction fit with your research?”
“Quite standard,” she said, her voice slightly strained. “Obedience is integral to power dynamics.”
“Excellent point. Though we’ve begun without setting boundaries.”
“I think if we, oh, fuck–”
His other hand had moved to grasp her hip, forcing her to grind harder over his digit.
“I think…” She licked her lips, taking a deep breath. “I think if we establish a safe word, we can bypass boundary discussion for the purpose of this demonstration.”
His gaze hadn’t wavered from her, watching her every reaction. “Tell me your safe word, Hermione.”
“Bananas,” she blurted out.
A soft chuckle reached her ears only moments before she felt him lift her off his leg. An uncontrollable whimper tore out of her as she landed on her feet.
“Panties off.” Looking her up and down, he gave her a sly smile. “Top and bra as well. Keep the skirt and heels on.”
Eager to please, Hermione slipped off her scrap of wet lace, tossing it on his desk. She hoped her arousal soaked into the wood as a permanent reminder. Next, she shucked off her top and quickly unclipped her bra, both landing on the floor in a heap. With her wetness spilling down her inner thighs, she stood tall, awaiting further instructions.
His eyes darkened at the sight of her bare chest. Stretching his large hand out along the top of his thigh, he curled two blunt fingers up in the air.
“Ride my hand, Hermione. I want to feel you come around my fingers.”
Her cunt throbbed and clenched around nothing at his command.
“Yes, Professor,” she breathed out, biting back a moan.
“Remus,” he declared, his authority palpable. “I want to hear you screaming my name, little devil.”
Positioning herself over his waiting hand, she slowly dropped down until his fingers were prodding at her entrance. She wanted to see his reaction the moment he breached her. Lifting her skirt, she gave him an unfettered view as she sunk down on him, his fingers deliciously stretching her. His thumb rose to press lightly over her clit, and she shuddered, cupping her breasts as she began a languid, bouncing rhythm.
“That’s it. Take what you need, Hermione.”
She writhed over his crooked fingers, grinding against his perfectly placed thumb, tweaking her own nipples, taking exactly what she needed.
But she was also putting on a display for her professor.
For Remus.
Each breathy sigh and desperate keen further darkened his eyes, now nearly black with lust and lines of desire etched on his face.
“God, your tight little cunt is squeezing my fingers so perfectly.”
“My cunt was made to take your fingers, Remus. To be fucked and pleased by you.”
He let out a shaky breath, shifting his own hips. Glancing down, Hermione could see an obscene bulge had formed in his tight jeans. The simple thought of impaling herself on his giant cock drove her to the edge, and she could feel all the telltale signs of her impending release.
The tight coiling in her core was pulled to its breaking point, and she could feel her walls spasming. Remus must’ve sensed it as well, as he increased the pressure of his thumb around her bundle of nerves.
“Come for me, Hermione. Ruin my jeans, soak my hand in your cum.”
The string inside her snapped, a rush of heat tore up her spine, and she came completely undone. She clenched down over Remus’ digits as she screamed out his name, squeezing her eyes shut, her entire body freezing up. He continued to stroke inside her and over her, pulling out her pleasure, not stopping until she finally began to relax.
The sensation of him pulling out from inside her sent a shiver up her spine. He called her name, and she pried open her eyes to see his hand drenched in her wetness. He held his fingers up to her mouth, tracing them over her lips.
“Open your mouth and suck.”
Preening under his demand, her lips parted and he shoved his two fingers in deep. She swirled her tongue around his digits, licking and sucking them clean, relishing in the musky flavor of herself.
“Fuck,” he muttered, shifting in his chair. He hooked his fingers around her teeth and yanked her mouth open. “You little minx. Taunting me all semester. For years. Class after class, you sit in the front, your intoxicating sandalwood and vanilla perfume distracting me, and those long, luscious legs…”
His free hand snaked out to trace over the soft skin of her thigh.
“And these.”
He released her jaw, both hands coming up to palm her breasts. “Hell, I knew, I just knew, they’d fit perfectly in my hands.” His thumbs rubbed over her pebbled peaks.
“I want to be your best student, Remus. I’m so happy to please you.”
“Hmmm.” Continuing to tease her hardened tips, he smiled deviously. “I need to know a few more things. Are you willing to help me learn?”
Nodding enthusiastically, she leaned into his touch. “Absolutely.”
“Climb up on the chair.” He brought his knees together, making room for her. “Feet on either side of me and lift up your skirt.”
Slipping off her heels, Hermione slid one bare foot along his thigh and pushed herself up, using his shoulders as balance. Once her other foot was in place, she lifted her skirt, exposing her dripping cunt.
As his eyes honed in on her center, his eyes lost all color, black taking over. “I need to taste you. To devour you.”
He grabbed each of her arse cheeks and hauled her forward, dragging her into his mouth. As his tongue swiped up, parting her seam, he groaned, the feeling vibrating against her swollen and sensitive nub. A fresh wave of heat rolled through her, and Hermione let go of her skirt and threaded her fingers through his hair.
Remus laved and sucked at her, drinking down her sweet flavor, the ridiculously lewd sounds muffled by the overhang of her skirt around his face. He growled, bringing one of her knees up to rest on his shoulder, opening up her center even more.
“So decadent,” he murmured as his tongue traced her entrance. “Better than I imagined.” He lapped at her clit before sealing his mouth around her, sucking hard.
Fucking hell, he had a talented mouth.
She could feel another orgasm cresting, this one barreling down fast and hot. Her cunt was pulsing, aching, and she was definitely going to come all over his face.
‘“God, Remus, yes!”
Her long fingernails scraped into his scalp, so sharp she was certain she might be drawing blood. Remus didn’t seem to mind, and instead became even more enthralled, licking and sucking with fervor. When he slid one finger through the crease of her arse and pressed over her puckered hole, she shattered.
Colors exploded behind her eyes as a ragged cry was ripped from her depths, and she squirted all over his face. Remus groaned his approval, lapping at her release, not stopping until Hermione forcefully pushed him back with a weak, “Bananas!”
Remus shot back immediately, angling his flushed face up to her. He was covered in her wetness, his normally well coiffed hair askew, and he had never looked sexier. One of his hands left her backside and she heard the sounds of a belt buckle clinking.
“I have to fuck you, Hermione. I need my cock buried deep inside you.”
“Yes, Remus, please, stretch me, fill me, fuck me,” she cried breathlessly.
Hermione registered the moment Remus’ dick sprung free from its confines, hearing the loud smack of it bouncing off his sculpted abs. Settling down onto her knees, she reached out to grab his shaft, holding firmly just above the base.
She bent over and licked at the bubbled precum, the flavor of him awakening her tastebuds. Salty, and slightly citrusy, she knew the taste of him could easily become an addiction. Paired with the whimpering groans and breathy moans he was making as she worked his bulbous head into her mouth, she was also aware it wasn’t just his taste; she was going to fall hard for this man.
Leaning back, not able to wait any longer, she notched his tip at her entrance and slid down, savoring each tantalizing inch as he stretched her to her limits. She scratched at his chest, wiggling around him until she bottomed out, then caught his gaze as they both panted in the silent room. She bit her lip, pulling him close enough they shared breath, and then clamped down around him.
“Fuck!” he roared.
His hands dug into her hips, holding her in place as he began to thrust up with vigor. He wasn’t holding back, setting a brutal pace, roughly fucking into her. Animalistic growls slid out of his gritted teeth as sweat formed at his brow.
She’d never experienced this level of primal desire with a partner before.
She pressed forward, dragging her nipples along his cheeks, catching on the rough stubble, adding a layer of lascivious sensation. As her loose curls tickled along his shoulders, they created another layer of wanton sensations. Her engorged clit rubbed over his thatch of dark, curly hair, ratcheting up the returned heat inside, her third orgasm ready to make itself known.
“Come with me, Hermione. Milk my cock with your pretty, tight, little cunt as I paint your insides.” He turned his cheek and latched onto her nipple, sucking it in and biting down hard.
Her body relented, falling victim to the rising pleasure, and she crumbled. Hermione quivered around him, her walls fluttering as she dropped off into the abyss. Remus stuttered under her, sending hot cum deep inside her. Hermione leaned down and captured his lips, kissing him with teeth and tongue, tasting herself on his mouth.
Once they recovered from their shared bliss, Hermione slipped off the chair, gathering her clothes off the floor.
“This was quite the review of deviance, Professor Lupin,” she said, pulling her shirt over her head. She reached for her soiled knickers on his desk and his hand shot out to catch hers.
“Leave those,” he said gruffly.
She only smiled and walked over towards the door.
“Shall I return next Tuesday? I am certain there are other topics we could cover… in depth.”
Remus grinned, wiping at his face with her lace panties. “I’ll pencil you in, my little deviant.”