Chapter Text
Honestly, Steph isn’t even mad that Tim likes men. She isn’t even that mad about the cheating part, though it caused their breakup in the first place. A small, petty part of her wishes she had thought of it first. She hates to be blindsided, and he most certainly caught her off-guard this time. To put it plainly, it just made her feel like shit.
Steph has always been at least bicurious. Getting changed with Cass in the locker room after dance practice used to be the highlight of her day. And sure, they’ve taken a few showers together. But what girl best friends haven’t done that? It never went any further than ogling, and Steph has been with Tim since high school. But Cass is currently in Hong Kong doing an exchange program, so now Steph couldn’t even have her hot girl experimentation era with her. Tragic. At least she has the apartment to herself.
She texts Cass the morning after The Breakup, after fumbling wildly for her phone to shut off her alarm to go to class.
steph: broke up with tim
cass: ???????
cass: why????????
steph: cheated on me with a guy
steph: wish u were here :(( can’t even get my lick back smh
cass: [knife emoji x3] he will be dealt with
Steph can’t even go to their usual haunts tonight, worrying that Tim would be there flaunting his new boy-toy. She flips over, muffling a groan into her pillowcase. She could play hooky, it’s almost the end of term and she’s nearly done with her papers. But something tells her staying at home will make her feel infinitely worse. At least she doesn’t share any classes with Tim.
She begrudgingly decides to attend her morning lecture. It’s not as if she usually dolls up for class anyways. Her eyes are rimmed red from crying, and her blonde hair is even messier than usual. Steph blinks blearily at her reflection, opting to brush her teeth and hope for the best.
Steph also prefers not to miss this particular class. IS359: Introduction to Library Information Systems with Dr. Barbara Gordon sounds deceptively boring at first. But Professor Gordon rocks, and Stephanie looks up to her a lot. Steph’s smart enough to do fine in school, yes, but it’s not often she feels the need to excel and impress in a class.
Professor Gordon just inspires that kind of dedication. She’s a gorgeous redhead with wire-rimmed glasses and a straightforward attitude to her teaching. If Steph had to guess, she would probably say Professor Gordon is in her late 30’s or early 40’s. Either way, she looks good. She’s also in a wheelchair, though no one ever brings it up in class. The rumor around campus is that she survived a hostage situation many years ago, though Steph doesn’t give this any credit. It’s none of their business.
Despite her admiration for her professor, Steph finds it hard to focus in class today. She’s typically much more active, raising her hand for questions, participating in the group work. But she’s running on barely any sleep, and couldn’t even stomach breakfast. She knows it’s pathetic to mope—over a guy of all things—but she doesn’t have the energy to fight the feelings.
When the lecture ends, she hastily gathers up her half-assed lecture notes and makes a beeline for the door, hoping that Professor Gordon doesn’t take notice of her. Alas, she never gets what she wants.
“You seem off today, Stephanie,”
Professor Gordon says, raising her manicured hand to place it lightly on Steph’s arm, stopping her from leaving the classroom with everyone else. “Is everything alright?”
“Hm?” Steph questions, distracted by the feeling of Professor Gordon’s hand on her bare skin. “Oh, um. I’m alright. Just a rough night, that's all.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she replies, but thankfully there’s no pity in her voice. “I wanted to let you know that Mrs. Garcia got back to me about your library assistant application.”
Oh? With all of the breakup drama, Steph almost forgot that she had sent in an application weeks ago to do work-study at the university library. Odd that they went through Professor Gordon instead of her, but she figures it makes sense.
“What did she say?” Steph asks, a bit nervously. She hopes Professor Gordon doesn’t notice her fidgeting, or the dark circles under her eyes. Maybe she should have bothered to put on makeup this morning.
“She said you can start working at the library once you send her your schedule,” Professor Gordon smiles at her reassuringly. Her hand is off of Steph’s arm now, and Steph feels the absence like a brand.
“That’s great!” Steph says, fighting the urge to squirm under her professor’s attentive gaze. “Thanks again for the recommendation. I’m sure that’s what got me in.”
Professor Gordon shakes her head. “You have a lot of potential, Stephanie. Be sure that you use it.”
Her mouth goes inexplicably dry. Stephanie has always been plenty smart, but she’s not accustomed to praise from authority figures. Her relationship with her parents has always been… complicated, and her teachers were more likely to call her too headstrong for her own good. She tends to chafe at being told what to do, but for some reason, Dr. Gordon doesn’t trigger that same instinct in her.
“Thank you,” Steph replies softly. “I’ll, um, email Mrs. Garcia right away. See ya later, professor.”
And with that, she ducks out of the room. She doesn’t catch Dr. Gordon’s calculating gaze, something like hunger in her eyes as she watches her leave.
from: [email protected]
Stephanie,
Next Saturday, I’m hosting a party at my house for the Information Science department, to celebrate the end of term. Though you are only an undergraduate, I believe this will be a good opportunity for you as you explore this career path.
Confirm your attendance before the end of the day tomorrow.
Best wishes,
Professor G.
Dr. Barbara Gordon
Lecturer in Library and Information Science, Gotham University
Director & Chief Librarian of the Gotham City Public Library
Professor Gordon’s house is much nicer than Steph expected. It’s a cute little place in an upscale part of Gotham—full of hipster cafes, organic grocery stores, and odd knick-knack shops that all sell decor no one actually buys. She didn’t think professors actually made that much money.
When she knocks on the door, it’s not Professor Gordon who answers, but a handsome man. He has black hair, streaked with a few elegant grays, and a lean, muscular figure dressed in slacks and a button-up. Wow, is all Steph can think, resisting the urge to openly ogle him. She doesn’t think she’s particularly successful. Surely he’s used to it.
“Hi, uhh, I’m Stephanie Brown. Is this Dr. Gordon’s house?” She asks, hoping to God she’s at the right place and not just at some random (hot) guy’s door.
He smiles, teeth white and perfect like a model’s. “Hey! Yes, it is, you’re just in time for the party. I’m Richard Grayson, Barbara’s husband.” He holds out his hand for her to shake—it’s warm and calloused with a firm grip.
Stephanie blushes. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Grayson.” Of course Dr. Gordon has a sexy husband. Duh. As if she wasn’t hot enough on her own, add her stupid hot model husband into the mix. How unfair. Some people really had it all.
“Please don’t call me Mr. Grayson, it makes me feel old,” he says with a cheeky wink. “My friends call me Dick.”
Dick steers her into the living room with a light hand on her back. “Babs! Your latest protégé is here.”
Latest? Steph blushes at the title. He’s definitely exaggerating just to mess with her. Babs is a cute nickname, she thinks as she approaches her professor. Suits her, somehow.
“Hi Professor G,” Steph waves, more flustered than she wants to be—hoping that Dr. Gordon doesn’t notice Steph checking out her husband. “Is there anywhere I can put my jacket?”
“Dick can take it for you,” Barbara waves her hand dismissively, and her husband quickly moves to take Steph’s jacket like a dog obeying his master. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Oh, like, water or juice or something?”
She laughs like Steph said something particularly funny. “This is a work party, dear. We have water, wine, and Dick’s special punch. It’s a family recipe.”
“But I’m–“ Steph wants to say she’s only 20, and she does not turn 21 until August, but she also doesn’t want to seem immature in front of Professor Gordon. “Uh. Yeah sure. The wine, please.”
Steph doesn’t usually drink wine. But it seemed the more adult choice, and this was an adult party. Real adults—people with steady jobs and multiple degrees and spouses. She’s used to parties with drunk frat boys and beer pong, not this. She picks at the charcuterie board, loading up a tiny plate with fancy cheese and crackers.
Professor Gordon hands her a glass of red wine with a wink. “Help yourself to the food and mingle a bit. There’s a few other students here, but they’re mostly grads.”
Steph takes a quick glance around, but she only recognizes a few other people from the department. Jason Todd, the graduate TA for her English Literature class, is scowling in the corner, nursing a glass of punch. He’s also the guy Tim cheated on her with. Not that that’s really his fault. Steph doesn’t even think he knew about her and Tim when they hooked up. She looks away before they can accidentally make eye contact, though, just in case.
A few other professors she’s had are there, but no one she feels like speaking to at the moment. She spots Professor Bertinelli, and Professor Lance. Steph turned in her final paper for Professor Bertinelli’s class the day after the deadline, so she quickly moves out of her line of sight.
“First time at one of these?” It’s Professor Gordon’s husband again, smiling at her knowingly.
Steph nods. “Yeah. I don’t really see anyone I know. Are you a professor too?” He doesn’t seem like the academic type, but maybe he was in a different department than his wife. Steph definitely would have remembered seeing him on campus.
Dick snorts, as if the mere idea of him as a professor was funny. “No, no. I’m a paramedic at West Mercy Hospital.”
He could save my life any day. Steph rapidly blinks away the interrupting thought. “Oh! That’s cool. My mom’s a night-shift nurse there.”
“Ah, so she’ll still be at work when you get back?”
She shakes her head. “No, I don’t live with her anymore. My best friend and I share an apartment near campus, but she’s in Hong Kong for a study-abroad thing.”
“Study-abroad is always a fun experience,” Dick remarks. “I took a few gap years between high school and college, myself, a million years ago.”
They chat for a bit longer, mostly about school, and travel. He’s surprisingly funny and a good conversationalist, and he doesn’t talk down to her like other older adults normally would. When Steph excuses herself to get another drink, Professor Gordon is waiting for her by the punch bowl.
“Have you tried the punch?” Barbara asks with a slight smile, offering her an empty cup. “Dick will be quite disappointed if you don’t, he’s expecting a review from everyone.”
“No, uhm, I haven’t yet,” Steph says hesitantly. The wine was stronger than she expected, and she’s already feeling a bit woozy. Usually she’d walk it off, or keep dancing, but the calm environment has lulled her into a false sense of security. She’ll have to watch what she says closely, so she doesn’t make a fool of herself. “I’ll try some.”
Steph pours herself a glass of punch under Professor Gordon’s watchful eye. She motions for Steph to sit on the couch. Steph obeys blindly, not really feeling like standing awkwardly by herself again. She takes a sip of the punch. It tastes deceptively of juice, but it burns as she swallows.
“Are you enjoying yourself? I know it can feel a bit odd to see your professors in a more casual setting.”
“It’s not odd, really,” Steph assures her. “It’s more… I’m not really sure how to act. In this situation.”
Barbara shrugs. “You don’t need to. You can relax, Stephanie. As you near the end of your time at university, you start to let go of the hierarchies you accepted blindly as a younger student. But we are all adults here. To discredit my student’s autonomy would be a disservice to their capabilities.”
“That’s good to hear,” Steph says. Her mouth feels like cotton, and she’s a bit disoriented. She thinks she probably should stop drinking. She takes another sip of punch. “You might be the only professor who takes me seriously. I don’t know why.”
“I see a bit of myself in you,” Barbara admits, with a tinge of hesitation. “With the right incentive, I think you’d really flourish in any field you chose.”
Stephanie flushes prettily. Her face is so warm, and the room is so warm, and Professor Gordon is just so close to her. She feels like she’s drifted off into a dream, only tethered to reality by her beautiful professor.
Where the fuck—Steph groggily gets up, blinking away the effects of a deep sleep. Her head throbs, and her vision is still fuzzy at the edges. She’s still on Professor Gordon’s couch, but she’s alone in the living room. The lights are off, except for one dimly lit floor lamp. She doesn’t know what time it is, but someone had chosen not to wake her up, and covered her with a throw blanket while she slept. She gets up slowly, trying not to make any noise. When she checks her phone, it’s a bit past midnight.
She doesn’t want to wake up Professor Gordon or her husband, if they’ve already settled in for the night. But she can hear noises, shuffling, coming from the bedroom. Perhaps they’re getting ready, and wouldn’t it be more polite for her to say goodbye and thank you before heading out?
The door is slightly ajar, allowing her to peer in through the gap.
Professor Gordon is half-naked and lifted onto her husband’s lap, kissing him with the kind of sensual leisure that Steph assumes could only come from years of marriage. Her hands circle around his throat possessively, and it only makes him hold onto her tighter. Her shirt is off, but her back is facing the door, showing Steph only the smooth expanse of her skin. Steph stops, frozen entirely in place. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be watching them. She should leave now, while they still don’t know that she’s awake.
Professor Gordon grips her husband’s throat tightly, pressing against his airway. He moans, and it startles Steph into action. She backs away from the bedroom, and makes a run for the exit. Her mind is racing as she fumbles to unlock the front door. She doesn’t care if they can hear her leaving. She needs to go home now. She needs a cold shower. She needs to replay that scene in her brain over and over. She needs her vibrator. She needs—
Steph walks back to her apartment, running entirely on autopilot and lost in her thoughts. It’s not until she gets home, shivering and covered in goosebumps from walking in the cold Gotham night, that she realizes she had forgotten her jacket. Fuck.
When Stephanie goes to Professor Gordon’s house the next day to pick up her jacket, Dick Grayson opens the door yet again. This time, he’s dressed considerably more casually, in a dark blue shirt and gray sweatpants. The casual wear does nothing to detract from his good looks, Steph bemoans to herself. Her eyes wander down to his crotch, the flimsy material of his sweatpants leaving nothing to the imagination.
His eyes flick up and down, catching where she’s staring at his bulge, the soft outline of it showing through the thin gray cotton.
“Why, Stephanie,” Dick grins slowly, and it’s all teeth. “I’m flattered, but I’m a married man, you know.”
Despite his words, his hand starts to trail up her arm. Warning alarms blare in her head, but she doesn’t make a move to stop him. She doesn’t know why she doesn’t stop him. She feels like a deer in the headlights.
“I–“ she stutters out pathetically. “I don’t. I don’t know what you mean.”
“What Babs doesn’t know can’t hurt her,” he hums to himself, but his eyes are playful. They don’t suit what he’s suggesting at all. “You’re a very pretty girl, Stephanie.”
“Steph,” she blurts out. She should be saying no thank you. She should be leaving. “My friends call me Steph.”
“Is that what you want to be?” He murmurs, backing her up against the wall, caged in so she can’t leave. “Friends?”
She gives up. Stephanie wants to play it coy.
“If you want to be.” She hopes it comes out husky, seductive. Not the silly little girl hopelessly attracted to her favorite professor’s husband, heart skipping a beat at the thought of Professor Gordon finding them out. Of Barbara there with them.
“I do,” he hums, before bending down to kiss her. Steph gasps in surprise, enthusiastically kissing him back. His lips are surprisingly soft, and he’s clean-shaven. He kisses like a man who knows what he’s doing, and she’s trying desperately to keep up. Dick smiles into her mouth, like he finds her girlish enthusiasm amusing.
Steph has only ever kissed Tim, and a small handful of other boys throughout the years—always at parties, during games of spin-the-bottle and seven minutes in heaven. This is nothing like that. Tim was always so methodical with her, even when they were awkward, fumbling teenagers with minimal experience between the two of them. Dick moved with purpose, like he wanted to devour and savor her at the same time.
This is such a bad idea, she thinks as his hand travels down to her waist.
This is such a bad idea, as he bends down lower to kiss and nip at her neck.
This is such a bad idea, as he pulls at her shirt to tug it off. She scrambles to unlatch her bra, tossing it to the ground without a care.
This is– Steph moans, unable to stop herself as his skilled mouth latches onto her nipple. He tugs meanly, tweaking the other nipple with his free hand. She never read herself as someone particularly into pain, but the sensation sends a rush of heat down to her core.
She arches into the feeling, as he alternates between harsh flicks of his tongue and gentle nips. His hands venture down to her ass, squeezing lightly, before hoisting her up against the wall. Steph can feel the flex of his muscles, can feel the bruises forming on her skin from the rough handling.
When they tumble onto the couch, it feels inevitable. Dick is still clothed, a stark contrast to Stephanie, who is stripped down to only her panties. He hovers over her, watching her hungrily, leg pressed up between her own. Steph is soaked through the fabric of her underwear, sticky against his sweatpants. She resists the urge to grind against his thigh, needy and pathetic. Her heart stutters, remembering she’s nearly naked, under her professor’s husband, exposed in her professor’s living room.
“You’re so cute,” he coos, lifting his hand to play with her lips. She opens her mouth instinctively, letting his fingers press lightly against her tongue, pushing in deeper to test her gag reflex. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always loved Babs, and all her sharp edges. But I miss this. With someone who will just submit.”
Steph moans. His fingers fuck in and out of her mouth, and she wishes something larger was filling her up. She wishes she was on her knees, with both Dick and Barbara watching her, assessing her performance. She’s not even gay. She doesn’t think she is. But she can’t stop thinking about last night, about her professor’s lovely hands wrapped around Dick’s throat. About how good he sounded at her mercy, but all Steph could look at was her. How badly she wanted those hands around her throat.
“What would you do, Stephanie?” he murmurs, though she gets the feeling he’s not really speaking to her at all. “Suck my cock? Let me fuck you on the couch? Want my wife to walk in through the front door?”
“Fuck,” she whines, the sound garbled by the fingers inspecting her throat.
“I think you want that,” he continues. “I think you want Babs to catch us. You want your favorite professor to see you act like a pathetic whore? Do you wish it was her touching you instead of me?”
Yes, yes please.
“Lift your hips, sweetheart,” he says, removing his hand from her mouth to pull off her underwear, leaving her fully exposed. “There, that’s a good girl.”
His eyes were intense as they took in the sight of her. Steph didn’t like shaving or waxing, always preferring to keep it trim instead. Her blonde curls are tamped down slick, and she shivers as he runs a light finger down her core. There’s barely any pressure, but she is getting desperate.
“Tell me what you want,” he says. “Or I won’t do anything.”
“I want you to touch me,” Steph gasps, unable to stop herself from grinding her hips down against him. The slight stimulation sends sparks up her spine, but it isn’t enough.
“Touch you where?” He tilts his head.
She whines confusedly. Shouldn’t he know? Can’t he tell? Steph attempts to grind against him more, but he presses his hands down on her hips firmly, effectively stopping her from moving. She squirms against him unsuccessfully, the weight of him keeping her trapped.
“I want you inside me,” she begs. “Your fingers, your cock, anything please. Please.”
“Impatient,” Dick laughs fondly. “Alright, princess. I’ll give you what you want.”
Two fingers go in easily. His hands are big, so much bigger than her own, and bigger than Tim’s were. Before she can say anything else, Dick makes his way down her body and places his mouth over her clit. Stephanie almost screams, the sensation of his tongue on her almost too much. She’s already so wet, and he eats her out without a care for her level of sensitivity. She comes for the first time into his mouth and it’s like a train derailing off the tracks.
Dick continues lapping at her through her orgasm, his fingers pressed up against her walls, riding through the aftershocks. Though he slows down a bit, he doesn’t let up, as though he’s hoping to coax her into another orgasm without a break. She’s so sensitive. She wants to shove him off now but she feels boneless, wanting to just melt into the couch, gone limp like a ragdoll.
She comes a second time, liquid trickling out of her, past his lips and onto the couch. Steph blacks out for a second, thinking it’s over, thinking she can hear him muttering praises from the heady, overstimulated haze that she’s entered. She can still feel something building—three? Four? Fingers fucking in and out of her slowly.
“God,” he murmurs, spreading his fingers slightly and watching the stretch. “Look at you. Bet you could take my whole fist if I tried.”
She shakes her head. She’s never been fisted before, and his hands are so much bigger than her own. Bigger than Tim’s. “Can’t. I can’t.”
Dick hums, disappointment clear in his tone. “Too bad. Some other time. You think she’d mind if I fucked you?”
In the back of her mind she thinks, Well, duh. She’s your wife. But the brief mention of Barbara is enough for her to come again, squeezing down on Dick’s fingers with a loud cry.
“Well,” he says, pulling his fingers out with a loud squelch. “I guess now I have to. You’re really twisting my arm here, Stephanie.”
He sinks into her with a soft groan. She's so far gone she didn’t even notice him putting on a condom. He could have fucked her raw and she wouldn’t have said anything. The voice in the back of her mind wants him to fuck her raw. Let it stay there, let Dr. Gordon fuck it back into her so it takes.
Dick’s hand is splayed across her stomach while he pushes in a little more. “You’re taking me so well,” he soothes when she cries out. “So good for us.”
Us. Barbara isn’t even here. She doesn’t know that Stephanie is in her home, fucking her husband. The thought should make Steph sick to her stomach, but it only fans the flames. The tip of his cock nudges against her cervix and the pain and the stretch feels good. Like she deserves it.
Her legs hook tightly around Dick’s waist, wanting him even deeper, and the weight of him presses onto her. This close she can see the faint lines of the crow’s feet around his eyes and the silver glinting in his hair. His blue eyes gleam with mirth that not even a young man her own age could achieve.
“She wouldn’t mind,” Dick says, confidently, taking Stephanie by surprise. She gasps when he picks up the pace. “Babs would—she’d be mean, though. Meaner than she is at work.”
Stephanie’s voice feels so far away. “She’s not mean,” she whines.
Dick coos at her. “That’s right. You’re her best student. Her protégé, her special girl. What a treat.”
Steph moans, feeling another gush of fluid come out of her. She doesn’t even know if she has it in her for another orgasm, but it feels so good she doesn’t even care if she comes again.
“You feel so good,” he says, a hand coming up to play with her clit, light and precise. “Wanna spoil you. Keep you. Make you come as many times as we want.”
She comes again, hyper-sensitive and writhing. Steph is so far gone. Dick’s voice barely registers as anything more than a pleasant hum to her ears. She doesn’t even process the We. It floats to the back of her mind, beyond the realm of worry.
He buries himself to the hilt and comes inside her, murmuring more praises into her soft blonde hair. “Special girl, what a good pet. Did such a perfect job for us.”
“Mm,” is all Steph says in response, slumped on the couch yet again. Her jacket is forgotten, left on the back of a chair. Drifting off and away, she completely misses Dick shooting a self-satisfied grin to the corner of the room.