prof dave? 🧐 i'm gonna need some elaboration on that stat
Oh boy -- this one has been in the graveyard for a bit, but I'm revisiting it in the new year. Basically one time I ****ed a professor and I'm writing a fic about it (but with Dave).
Here's a snip:
There’s a pit in your stomach, a gnawing feeling something like hunger. You’re not nervous, exactly, but you’re aware of the consequences if this goes wrong – if he doesn’t actually want you or doesn’t think you’re worth the risk. You knock on his door. “Are you wearing that to the conference?” He’s already settling back into the shitty desk chair by the window. You look down at your tshirt and compression shorts and then back up to glare at the back of his head. “Yeah. Obviously.” You lay back on his bed and stretch your back, sore from the five hour car ride. “What are you doing?” “Working.” You roll onto your stomach and look at him. The mid morning light casts a glare over his screen, but only serves to highlight his features. You hate how pretty he is, how much you want him. “Are you wearing that to the conference?” He’s wearing navy dress pants and a tight white t-shirt that is definitely a size too small. “I have a dress shirt.” He seems irritated today. Shoulders tense, sentences clipped. You wonder if it’s you that has him all worked up, your conversation the other night. You slide off the bed into the floor and go through some simple yoga poses. Your back is really messed up from that car ride. You sit on your knees and walk your hands forward as far as they’ll go, dropping your head to the floor. You sigh as you sink into child’s pose, feeling the stretch in your sore hips and back. “What are you working on?” “Will you shut up?” You snap your head up to look at him. He’s fucking tetchy today… and he hasn’t looked over at you once, as far as you can tell. “Make me.” “When have I ever been able to make you do anything?” You sit back on your heels and tilt your head to the side. He’s almost shaking, he’s so tense. You’ve never seen him like this. “You never ask nicely.” He wordlessly scoots his chair back and spreads his legs, still typing away on his laptop. You crawl over and settle yourself between his legs. He still doesn’t look at you. “What do you want, Dave?” “For you to stop talking.”
Even though I have the whole thing planned out, this is basically the only part that's written out that I don't hate lol.
Ask me about my WIPs