The Student Who Seduced His Law Professor

Néstor watched the club with a mixture of curiosity and caution. He didn’t usually frequent bars like this so close to his neighborhood. He wasn’t ashamed of his sexuality, but his profession demanded a certain discretion, and a law professor learned early on to mind appearances.

Despite his relative youth, he taught constitutional law at the city university. He had known he was bisexual from a very young age, and when he wanted to be with a man he usually went to the capital, where no one knew him. That night, however, he had given in to a friend’s insistence and had dropped by for the reopening of the place.

Then he saw him. He had not expected to find him there. It was Gael, one of his best students, the one he felt an attraction to that he couldn’t get rid of. He moved between the tables with a tray in his hand, handing out drinks with an ease that came naturally to him.

When he reached his side, he smiled, amused and a little surprised, with a mischievous glint in his green eyes.

—Would you like a drink, Professor Almela? —he offered, winking at him.

—Of course —Néstor replied, and took a glass of cava while letting his gaze slide over that body he had been silently craving for months.

The ash-blond hair, almost shaved, gave him a sporty air; the broad shoulders, the straight jaw, the slightly slanted eyes that were always smiling. He was shorter than him, but he moved with a confidence that drew attention wherever he went.

—I didn’t know you worked here —said the professor, leaving the sentence unfinished.

—I don’t work here. It’s just for tonight, they needed extra staff —Gael smiled, and walked away with the tray.

Néstor followed him with his eyes for the rest of the evening, almost without realizing it. He couldn’t help it. When the place began to empty and he had drunk more than he had planned, he approached the bar where the boy was collecting glasses.

—What time do you finish? —he whispered in his ear, his voice slightly slurred.

—I finished a quarter of an hour ago. I was killing time.

—Killing time for what? —he asked, daring to rest a hand for an instant on his hip.

—I was thinking of calling a taxi. I shouldn’t drive tonight —said Néstor, suggestively—. If you want, you can come with me.

—If you trust me, there’s no need for a taxi —Gael placed his hands on his chest and toyed with a button on his shirt—. I haven’t been drinking. I never drink when I work.

The professor looked at him fixedly, lost in the sensation of those hands on him, unable to think coherently. He nodded.

—Let’s go.

***

Néstor was lying face down on the bed, naked. Gael, seated on his legs, worked his shoulders and back with firm, precise fingers. Less than half an hour ago they had fucked voraciously, and he still could not quite believe what he had done: risk everything with a student. He could blame the alcohol or the accumulated exhaustion from so many weeks grading exams. But the truth was simpler. He had wanted him since the first day of term.

The boy’s fingers were making him hard again. An idea flashed through his mind like lightning: once the line had been crossed, he saw no reason to stop.

—Gael —he murmured.

—Yes? —Gael answered, focused on the massage.

—You share a flat with Lara, right? —He was curious about that friend of his, a petite and lively student who usually sat in the front row.

—For almost five years now. She’s my best friend.

Néstor propped himself on his elbows and turned his head to look at him. He licked his lips and smiled playfully.

—I’d really like to sleep with her.

—And you tell me that while you’ve got me naked on top of you —Gael burst out laughing—. You’re a reckless man, you know that?

—Does it bother you?

—Not at all —the boy lowered his gaze to the professor’s cock, which curved swollen against his stomach—. From what I can see, you like me enough to be hard again.

—I can’t hide anything from you —Néstor replied, and slid his hands over the boy’s hips, pulling him toward him. He reached out, took a condom and lubricant from the bedside table drawer, and handed them to him—. Will you do the honors?

Gael opened the silver wrapper and rolled it on with nimble fingers. He poured lubricant into his palm and spread it, while the professor prepared him carefully, exulting at how the boy’s body opened and closed around his fingers, trying to take him deeper.

—Whenever you want —said Gael, guiding the head of his cock to his entrance without letting it in yet.

—Do it yourself, at your own pace. Take me inside you.

The boy placed the professor’s hands on his hips, rested his own on his torso, and began to lower himself slowly. When he took him in completely, he waited a few seconds, caught his breath, and rolled his pelvis. Then he rode him up and down, biting his chest until he left a mark, while Néstor thrust his hips forward to meet him with every stroke.

The gasps filled the room like an echo. In one abrupt motion, the professor turned them over and left Gael on his back, wrapped his legs around his waist, and began to fuck him with frantic urgency, kissing him on the mouth. The boy could feel him throbbing inside him, could feel the temperature rising, sweat beading on his forehead. With a groan, Néstor arched, let his name escape, and came in him, while Gael stroked himself, trying to join him in release.

Exhausted, the professor collapsed beside him, kissed the base of his neck, and caressed his face until he caught his breath.

—What grade do you give me, prof? —Gael asked, tracing arabesques on his skin.

—In bed, top marks —Néstor ran his thumb over the boy’s lips, and he took it into his mouth, biting it gently—. As for your final exam, I’m warning you now: it won’t be me grading it. I’ve asked one of my assistants to assess it. I don’t trust my own judgment with you.

—And if I help you get Lara to notice you? —he slipped in, insinuatingly.

—Would you do that?

—I can try. I’m not promising anything —Gael yawned—. But tonight you’ve worn me out. Let’s sleep for a while.

***

Two days later, Néstor had spent hours in his office grading exams. He rubbed the back of his neck, looked at the pile still left to do, and sighed. There was a knock at the door.

—Come in.

Gael entered with a determined stride. He greeted him in a neutral voice that belied the mischievous smile on his face, turned around, and silently locked the bolt.

—You and I have a serious matter to discuss, Professor Almela.

—Really? —Néstor took off his reading glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose—. Nothing grave, I hope.

—You’re mistaken. It’s very grave —the boy replied, while unbuttoning the collar of his shirt. He leaned in and kissed the base of his throat—. You’ve been deliberately ignoring me for two days now, and that, prof, is not okay at all.

He slid the shirt off his shoulders until his arms were trapped, unable to pull free the sleeves still buttoned at the wrists.

—Maybe you need correcting.

—Well now —Néstor raised an eyebrow, curious and expectant—. And what sort of correction did you have in mind, my dear student?

—You’ll see in a moment.

Gael gently pushed him back into the chair, with his arms behind him, the sleeves serving as improvised handcuffs. He knelt between his legs, undid his belt, pulled down his trousers and underwear to his knees, and let them fall to the floor under their own weight.

Néstor could hardly believe how quickly he was getting aroused. He moved his hips, seeking contact, wanting to touch his head and draw it toward him.

—Easy, prof. I’m in control now —the boy rested his cheek on his thigh and looked him in the eye while closing his hand around the base of his cock and slowly sliding upward—. You just have to stay still and let me do it.

He dragged his lips over the skin, licked his balls, took them into his mouth, sucking carefully, his thumb tracing wet circles over the head. Then he took him all the way in, playing with his tongue in the tiny slit, moving up and down with exasperating slowness that tortured them both. He could feel him growing harder, tightening, and he knew he was close. Then he stood up, looked at him with desire, and began to undress.

The professor swallowed while the boy took lubricant and a condom out of his backpack. He watched him warm the gel between his fingers and, leaning on the desk, prepare himself without taking his eyes off his, moaning softly with every movement.

—Do you like your punishment, prof? —Gael came closer, grabbed his cock, and placed it at the entrance.

—Yes —it came out as a strangled groan—. Please… I can’t take it anymore, just do it already.

—Shh. You don’t give the orders today —he leaned in, kissed his lips, and began to sit down slowly. When he took him, he went still, getting used to his thickness, his inner walls throbbing around him. He sighed deeply and kept going until he was seated completely, then began to ride him up and down, faster and faster, deeper and deeper.

The ragged breathing, the interwoven gasps, and the soft rustle of wet skin slapping together were the only sounds in the office.

—Gael, please —the professor begged, almost voiceless—. I need to touch you. Let me come.

The boy brought his hands behind his back and unfastened the cuffs of his shirt, which fell to the floor and freed his arms. Néstor took him by the hips, stood up from the chair, and in one fluid motion laid him across the desk, scattering exams across the floor. He began to fuck him out of control.

—I want to see you masturbate for me —he whispered in time with his thrusts.

And Gael complied, looking him in the eyes, feeling him throb inside until his body tightened and a rough sound escaped his throat, spilling between them. Feeling the warm spurts flooding him triggered the professor’s own release, and he collapsed over him, holding him, his heart pounding a mile a minute.

—You’ve been very naughty —Néstor murmured against his skin—. You shouldn’t have gotten up. I told you to let me do it.

The boy sat up with trembling legs and looked at the mess of papers scattered everywhere.

—Was this what you were after? Manipulating your exams? —the professor smiled, mocking—. I already told you that neither yours nor Lara’s is here.

—You’re so boring sometimes —Gael was getting dressed with a smile floating on his lips—. Maybe later you’ll feel like an ice cream. There’s an ice cream shop by the harbor with an employee you might know. A certain Lara. She finishes her shift at ten.

Néstor burst out laughing. The boy was impossible. He understood perfectly that this was his twisted way of asking him out on a date for the three of them, and he was more than willing to accept it.

***

That night, after the ice cream and a long wait at the bar where Gael was finishing his shift, the three of them shared a taxi back to the professor’s place. During the ride they were restrained, almost discreet. But as soon as the elevator doors closed, it was as if a hurricane had broken loose.

Using his size, Néstor dragged them into a corner of the car and trapped each of them with one arm. He started kissing them in turn. Lara wrapped her arms around his neck and arched her body against him, pressing her lips to his throat, while Gael, pressed against his side, showered his neck with bites and grabbed one of his ass cheeks firmly. A guttural moan escaped the professor, shivering under the caresses of the two young people.

—This can’t interfere with the university —Néstor managed to say, breathing hard.

—Don’t worry, prof —Gael laughed into his ear, sliding a hand under his shirt—. What happens outside the classroom stays outside the classroom.

The elevator chime announced the floor. None of the three moved at once. Lara was looking at him with desire in her eyes; Gael, with that mischievous smile that had lured him there from the first drink. And Néstor, law professor, man of principles and discretion, knew there was no going back now. He groped for the key, opened the door, and let the two of them in, determined that the night would not end soon.

In the weeks that followed he graded every other person’s exams scrupulously, signed the records with impeccable steadiness, and kept his composure in every class. But when he closed the door of his office and locked it, he stopped being Professor Almela. And that other life, the one that fit between four walls and two bodies that knew him better than anyone else, he had no intention of giving up.