My Professor and the Hypothesis We Tested at Dawn

No one knew about us. That was the first rule, and the only one that truly mattered. I was Nora Belmonte, twenty-two years old, a doctoral scholarship in molecular biology, and a body I had built over six years of treatment, patience, and mirrors in which I learned to recognize myself. Adrián Vela was my thesis supervisor. And at two in the morning, when the campus fell silent, he was something completely different: he was the man who fucked me against the steel tables of Laboratory Seven until he left me voiceless.

I crossed the courtyard barefoot, sandals in hand so I wouldn't make any noise on the gravel. I wore my lab coat fastened with only one button, and nothing underneath. No panties, no bra, nothing to come between his mouth and my skin when the time came. The June air brushed my thighs, and my nipples hardened against the rough fabric. It wasn't the cold. It was knowing that in five minutes Adrián's cock would be inside me.

I went up to the third floor. Laboratory Seven was dimly lit, illuminated only by the display cabinets, that bluish glow that made everything seem unreal. Adrián had his back to me, leaning against the steel table, reviewing something on his tablet as if it were any other night. I locked the door. The click of the bolt sounded like a gunshot in the silence.

—You're late —he said without turning around.

—I had to wait for the security guard to leave.

He set down the tablet. He turned slowly, and his eyes made their usual journey: from my bare feet to the opening of the lab coat, where the fabric parted over my thighs. A look that traveled over me as if he were measuring me. As if I were just another datum to verify.

—Well? —I asked, because the silence was killing me—. Are we going to talk about the thesis or…?

—The thesis can wait. —He came closer. He smelled of coffee and something darker, something that was his—. I have a new hypothesis about you, Belmonte. And tonight I intend to test it.

He placed two fingers against my sternum and pushed, gently but firmly, until my back struck the cold surface of the central table. The steel drew a gasp from me. He took advantage of that moment of distraction to undo the coat's only button and open it wide. I was left completely naked beneath the blue light, my nipples already hard, my thighs parting on their own.

—Look at you —he murmured, sliding his palm down my stomach until it brushed my pubis—. You're soaked. You've been thinking about this all day.

He pushed two fingers between my lips and pulled them out glistening, showing them to me as if they were a laboratory sample. Then he brought them to his mouth and sucked them slowly without taking his eyes off me.

—You taste exactly the same as last time —he said—. Addictive.

I didn't deny it. I couldn't have. I'd had my pussy wet all day—in class, in the library, in front of the microscope—squeezing my thighs together beneath the desk every time I thought about his mouth. And he knew it, because he knew me better than I wanted to admit.

—Hands up —he ordered.

I raised them above my head. From a drawer he took the padded straps we kept for this, the ones that didn't leave marks, and tied my wrists to the metal bar at the end of the table. He pulled once to check the knot. The movement stretched my entire torso, lifted my breasts, and spread my legs wide, exposing me beneath the blue light, my pussy already glistening with how wet I was.

—Comfortable? —he asked, with that half smile that undid me.

—No —I admitted.

—Good.

***

He took off his shirt unhurriedly, button by button, while he watched me writhe against the straps. When he yanked down his trousers and underwear, I held my breath. I knew him by heart, and yet he impressed me every time: his cock hard, heavy, marked by thick veins, the red, glistening tip crowned by a drop of pre-cum hanging there, threatening to fall. He wasn't a man who lost control easily. That was what made seeing him like this—tense, his cock throbbing against his belly—so addictive.

He came closer, grasped his cock, and rubbed the tip against my lips. I stuck out my tongue to lick away that salty drop, and he let me for a few seconds, allowing me to suck just the tip before pulling back.

—No —he said, shaking his head—. Tonight I start with you.

He bent over me. His mouth found my neck, my collarbone, the hollow between my breasts. He closed his lips around one nipple, sucking hard, and I arched my back, pulling against the straps. He moved to the other, barely biting it, playing with his tongue until both were red and hypersensitive. Then he continued downward, dragging his lips across my stomach, biting the insides of my thighs, leaving marks I'd have to hide beneath long trousers the next day.

When he reached my pussy, he wasn't gentle. He spread my lips with his thumbs and licked me all over, from bottom to top, long, flat, hungry strokes. Then he focused on my clitoris, sucking it and pressing it with the tip of his tongue while two of his fingers entered me and searched for the spot only he knew how to find.

—Fuck —I let out, tugging at the straps—. Fuck, Adrián.

He growled against my pussy, a vibrating sound that rose all the way up my spine. His fingers went in and out with a wet, obscene noise that echoed through the empty laboratory. I clenched my teeth to keep from screaming, because the neighboring lab had thin walls and because, deep down, I liked that battle with myself.

—Don't hold back —he said, lifting his head for a second, his chin shining with me—. I want to hear you come in my mouth.

—They're going to…

—No one is going to hear us. I turned off the cameras, and the door has a chain. Tonight you're mine alone, Nora. All of your pussy is mine.

He went back down, this time without mercy. His fingers moved faster, his tongue pounded my clitoris, his nose pressed against my pubis. Mine. He said it with such calm possessiveness that I came almost without warning, a first orgasm that was quick and brutal, folding me over the table and making me close my thighs around his head while I screamed his name, unable to keep it in. He didn't stop. He continued licking between the contractions, stubborn and steady, until the pleasure was nearly unbearable and I begged him between gasps to let me breathe.

Only then did he rise, his mouth and chin soaked, and slowly licked his lips with obscene deliberation.

—One —he said, as if he were keeping track of an experiment—. Let's see how far you get tonight.

***

He released my wrists only to turn me around. He left me face down on the steel, my feet still on the floor, my legs spread and my chest pressed against the cold table. My nipples, still hard from his bites, rubbed against the icy metal and pulled another moan from me. He held the nape of my neck with one hand, not squeezing, only reminding me who was in charge. With the other, he spread my buttocks and crouched to lick me again from behind, his tongue running over my pussy and rising to my ass, leaving a wet kiss there that made me close my eyes.

Then he penetrated me with three fingers at once. I screamed against the table.

—You're so wet they slip right in on their own —he murmured, moving them inside me with a slow, perverse rhythm—. All this for me.

He prepared me slowly, with a patience that contrasted with the hardness of his voice, fucking me with his fingers until my legs trembled and the only thing I wanted in the world was his cock inside me.

I heard him spit into his hand and rub it over his cock. Then I felt the tip there, resting against my entrance, barely pushing, teasing.

—Ask me for it —he said.

—Please.

—Please what?

—Please, Adrián. Put it in me. Now.

—Where?

—In my pussy, fuck, give it to me.

He entered me in one thrust, all the way to the hilt, and I didn't even try to hold back the scream that escaped me. He filled me so completely that for a second I didn't know whether I could breathe. He began to move hard and deep, with a rhythm that made the entire table vibrate and the jars on the shelves tremble. The sound of his hips striking my ass was wet, fleshy, obscene, filling the laboratory as if it were the only thing that existed in the world. He gripped my hips with both hands, digging his fingers in, marking me. I held myself against the edge of the steel and let him carry me away, let him use me, let him test his hypothesis thrust by thrust.

—This is what you wanted —he growled against my ear without stopping—. This cock. Say it.

—Yes.

—All day long. In class. Watching me from the front row with that good-girl face, squeezing your thighs so you wouldn't come just from thinking about it. And now look at you. My cock buried to the hilt, soaking my balls.

He slipped a hand underneath me and found my clitoris. He began rubbing it in quick circles without stopping his thrusts, and I lost my head. I came for the second time with his name in my mouth, undone, clenching around him with spasms so strong I felt every inch of his cock throbbing inside me. My legs were shaking so badly that only his grip kept me standing. He slowed the pace for just a moment, long enough not to finish, and then started again.

—Not yet —he whispered, breathing hard against my nape—. I'm not going to come yet. You've got a long way to go, Belmonte.

***

He pulled out of me and turned me around again. He picked me up, my legs wrapped around his waist, and carried me like that, keeping me impaled halfway with every step, to the swivel chair in the corner, the one he used during tutorials, the same one I'd sat across from him in so many mornings, pretending there was nothing between us. He dropped into it with me on top. I settled astride him, felt the tip of his cock seeking me out on its own, and slowly lowered myself until he was completely inside me again, until I sank into his lap with a long moan.

This position was different. There was no neck held or wrists tied. Here we were face to face, and that made everything more intimate, more dangerous. He held my jaw with one hand and kissed me deeply, dirtily, pushing his tongue into my mouth until I tasted my own flavor mixed with his. I brought one of his hands to my breasts, and he understood: he began squeezing them, pinching my nipples with exactly the force I liked, while I moved on top of him at my own pace, rising and falling along his cock, feeling him opening me up inside with every stroke.

—Like that —he gasped, watching my breasts bounce—. Fuck me now. Show me how you like it.

I braced myself on his shoulders and sped up. The swivel chair creaked beneath us, turning a few degrees with every thrust, and I rode him with my legs burning from the effort. I bit his lower lip. He dug his fingers into my hip in retaliation and forced me down harder, making me impale myself fully with every stroke. Our bellies struck together with a wet sound. I felt his balls smack against my ass every time I sank down to the bottom.

—Look at me when you come —he said against my mouth—. Don't close your eyes. I want to see your face.

I tried. I truly tried. I held his gaze while my third orgasm began rising from the pit of my stomach, while my pussy contracted around his cock, while I felt him tense against me too, keeping me from escaping the pleasure. But when the orgasm really tore through me, long and electric, my eyes closed on their own and I collapsed against his chest, gasping, laughing, and crying all at once without quite knowing why. He held me. He stroked my back with a tenderness that didn't fit with the brutality of a minute earlier, and that contrast was what undid me most of all that night.

—Three —he whispered into my hair, still hard inside me, throbbing within me with a saint's patience—. You're incredible.

—You're keeping count —I said, breathless.

—I'm a scientist. I record my results.

I laughed against his neck, exhausted. Then I moved slightly and felt that he was still hard, still inside me, still without coming, his cock firm and pulsing from holding back so long.

—Your turn —I murmured, sitting up a little to lower myself along the tip and look at him—. You've been holding back all night, and that can't be healthy.

—I wanted you to get there first. As many times as necessary. Now I'm going to come, Belmonte. And it's going to be inside you.

***

We lowered ourselves to the floor, onto the thin rug covering the reading area. He put me on all fours and positioned himself behind me. He moved my hair to one side, ran a hand along my back to arch me the way he wanted me, and thrust into me all the way again with a single push that made me open my mouth without a sound.

This time there was no teasing or countdown. He moved with a new intensity, deeper, more animal, finally pursuing his own end. He grabbed my hair—not hard, just enough to hold the reins—and began fucking me without pause. His thighs struck the backs of mine, his balls hit my clitoris with every thrust, and the sound of our skin filled the room. I pushed backward to meet him with every stroke, learning his rhythm, deliberately clenching around him to drive him to the edge.

—Fuck —he hissed—. You aren't going to let me last like this.

—I don't want you to last. I want you to come inside me.

I heard his broken breathing, the moans escaping between his teeth, the exact moment he stopped having control over himself. He dug his fingers into my hips and thrust three, four times faster and deeper.

—Nora —he said, and my name sounded different, without orders, almost like a confession—. Fuck, Nora, I'm coming.

—Finish —I begged, squeezing around his cock with everything I had left—. Inside. I want to feel all of it.

He did, with a hoarse groan that came from deep in his chest, holding my back against him, trembling against me. I felt his cock pulsing as he spilled inside, hot jets filling me completely, and the sensation triggered a small fourth orgasm, almost a surprise, making me tremble and drop my head between my arms. He continued thrusting slowly as he emptied himself, pressing me against his pelvis to bury himself to the last millimeter. When he finally pulled out, I felt a warm trickle run down the inside of my thigh.

We stayed like that for a long while, collapsed on the rug, his forehead resting between my shoulder blades, both of us breathing as if we'd run for miles. He ran his fingers over my pussy, gathering some of his own semen mixed with mine, and smeared it across my stomach with a calm possessiveness that made my skin prickle again.

The clock on the wall read a quarter past four. Through the window, the first gray line of dawn was beginning to creep in.

***

He carefully turned me over and settled me against his arm. His hair was stuck to his forehead, there was a red mark on his shoulder where I'd bitten him, and he wore a smile I'd never seen during school hours.

—And your hypothesis? —I asked, running a finger over his chest—. Confirmed?

—Confirmed —he said—. With an extremely high confidence level.

—Very romantic, Professor.

He kissed my temple. Then my cheek. Then the corner of my lips, slowly, as if we had all the time in the world and not ten minutes before the campus began to wake up.

—This can't be limited to empty laboratories at four in the morning —he said suddenly, seriously—. I don't want it to be just this.

I went very still. We'd spent months without naming what lay beneath all this tension, and suddenly he was putting it on the table, just as he'd put me on it.

—We can't —I said, although I didn't want to—. You're my supervisor. If anyone finds out…

—I'll ask for you to be reassigned to another advisor. In September. And then there'll be nothing to hide. —He held my face between his hands—. I'm not asking you as your professor, Nora. I'm asking you as the idiot who's been in love with you for half a year.

Something broke inside me, but this time in the good way. I kissed him, and the kiss said everything I couldn't find the words to say.

—Deal —I whispered against his mouth—. But I'll warn you about one thing.

—What?

—I intend to keep coming to this laboratory barefoot. Without panties. Even when there's nothing left to hide.

He let out that deep, dark laugh that always slipped beneath my skin. He helped me up, placed the lab coat over my shoulders, and fastened its only button with absurd delicacy after everything that had just happened.

—Every night you want, Belmonte —he said—. Until you finish your doctorate. And afterward too.

We left separately, as always, five minutes apart. I crossed the courtyard with my sandals in my hand again, barefoot on the damp gravel, my pussy sore and still dripping inside me, my chest full of something I didn't know how to name.

The sun rose above the Biosciences building. I'd never been so tired. And never, in six years of painstakingly building myself, had I felt so completely myself.