Prof!Harry part 4 (Patreon)

Got a little action for ya :) 

part 1 

part 2 

part 3 

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iv.

“Dr. Styles,” Y/N’s voice is soft, caressing him in the best way as Harry’s gaze flickers up to the doorway of his office, “You wanted to see me?” 

He did want to see her -- he had emailed to meet him at his office hours on Tuesday, which would be the first time that they had seen one another since their encounter. Despite that, he felt the same he did when he dropped her off at home the following morning, his heart rapid, his cock twitching in interest, his mind a mess. He thought maybe he would have calmed some since, had time to sort out his thoughts so he could have a proper response to the situation, but all chances of that were shot. 

It’s not like she had worn anything intentionally provocative -- she was in a sweatshirt and a cotton little pair of shorts, the same soft girl he was used to seeing -- yet Harry wanted nothing more than to lift her up onto the table and split her thighs. Lap against her slit and soak his tongue, slide his fingers inside of her, stroke against that bump and feel her fingers dug in his hair. The thought of it makes him bounce his leg anxiously, as he closes the folder stretched out on his desk over the paper he was grading. 

“Yes, yes, come in,” he waves her over, “Close the door, would you?” 

Y/N does as he says, sliding it shut and making her way to the seat across from his desk. Harry really had no reason for inviting her in -- he actually had no idea what he was meant to say to her, and when he opened his mouth, he started with, “About the other day. . .” but he trails off. . .what did he want to say to her? He was nervous -- what they’d done was inappropriate but he wanted to keep doing it. Does he tell her they need to stop? Or does he tell her to come to his flat after her last class so he can set her on the stomach, grab her by the hips and bury his face into her cunt from behind?

“Are you worried that I’ve said something?” She asks him blatantly, not offended that he’d question her but he can’t really tell how she feels about it. If he says yes, then he’s established the trust between them is lacking, but if he says no and she has then he’s a mug. It’s a hard game to play, but thankfully Y/N doesn’t force him to take part in it, by quickly following this up with, “Because I haven’t and I won’t. I’m a good girl, remember?” 

A shiver runs down Harry’s spine, dripping through him like ice-cold water on a sweltering hot day, “I -- thank you, Sweetheart.” He settles on because he doesn’t know what to say. What could he say? All he wanted to do was bend her over his desk and fit himself between her thighs, whether that be his hips or his face. The desire is too much to ignore as memories of their last encounter disrupt their current one -- her thighs split open, the front of her panties drenched, how she bent forward and tucked the head of his cock in her mouth against her hot little tongue. 

“You’re wrung tight as a bow,” she points out, “Do you need help relaxing?” 

Harry doesn’t have time to ask her what that might entail before she’s standing, stepping around his desk to his side and lowering to her knees, “Oh!” He lets her maneuver him, as she pushes his chair away from the underneath of the desk (somehow managing not to let the wheel snag on the carpet), replacing his legs with herself, fitting beneath it. She takes ahold of the chair legs, carefully avoiding the wheels as she drags him closer to her, “We shouldn’t --” 

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, her hands resting on his thighs, pinching into the pleated fabric of his trousers -- he’d worn the ones she’d mentioned staring at him in -- and lulls her tongue over her mouth, “I can help.” 

He’s at a loss for words as she pops his button out and pulls the zipper down, over the growing bulge. It brings some relief to the pressure that had begun building, and he watches as her lips pull into a small smile, “I hope you’re like this ‘cos of me.”

“Can’t seem to not be hard when I’m thinking about you,” he admits, which only spurs her onward — she curls her fingers around the waistband of his pants and gives a sharp tug. Against his better judgment, he raises his hips to help her wriggle them down. It leaves him in his boxers, and before he has a breath of a thought, she leans forward and drags the flat of her tongue over the white cotton fabric. His hips stutter, “Oh—“ his hand falls to her hair, fingers digging into her hair and she moans against him, vibration sizzling through his lower half. 

“Sorry,” she murmurs against his bulge, dragging her tongue against it once more, “I’m just impatient.”

“Tha’s okay, little one,” he caresses the back of her head before carding his fingers in her hair and giving a short tug, “Budge up n’all get my kit off.” 

Harry doesn’t know why he’s doing this -- it’s dangerous, and to do this as their first established thing was a bit ballsy, wasn’t it? But he couldn’t stop her. She was sitting on her knees, leaning back on her heels and watching his fingers work to the elastic stitched at the top of her boxers. The sweet thing. . .he couldn’t get over her and how innocent she still managed to look in her current positioning. He couldn’t miss the little quirk of her lips when he cants his hips upward, shuffling the boxers down so the fabric bunches and bundles at the knees with his trousers. Y/N wets her lips with the tip of her tongue, and as soon as he’s taken them down, she starts going forward. 

But Harry stops her, “Hold on,” he murmurs and Y/N pauses, “Why don’t you sit back for a little while, hm? Watch me play?” 

She leans back once more and Harry feels a surge of arousal spike to his cock, filling with more blood and swelling stiffer. Exercising even that small bit of control that she so willingly gives to him gives him a feeling that he can’t describe, but it makes it that much better when his fingers slip around his cock. He twists up, letting his eyes flutter a bit as he stretches out his legs as far as his pants would let him. An exhale leaves pursed lips as he withdraws his hand, spits into his palm and returns it to his prick, slicking it up along his shaft. 

His thighs tremble as he focuses his attention on the tip of his cock, massaging around it with the pads of his fingers, the muscles in his abdomen clench, even more so when a little whimper leaves her. “What is it, hm?” 

“Wanna taste you,” she pouts, brows furrowed, “I -- I did a little bit the other day and ever since, I just want you in my mouth.” 

Harry hums, suckling his bottom lip into his mouth and nibbling at it hard, “I reckon I should let you have a go at me, yeah? In a moment though. . .wanna see how good you’ll be for me and then you’ll get a reward.” 

Y/N nods quickly, bouncing a bit and a small bubbly giggle leaves her, “I’ll be the best. Pinky swear.” She holds up her pinky and to humor her, he locks his own around hers and they keep it there. They rest their hands on his knee while he continues stroking his cock, teeming with warmth and dizzy with pleasure. His head is swimming as he watches her watching him, how her gaze is trained on his prick, how excited she appears to be near him and how ready she is to fit her mouth on him. Harry thinks she’s absolutely precious, her grip on his pinky firm despite how small hers is in comparison, and when she lowers and leans her cheek against the opposite knee. Her eyes flicker up to him and Harry thinks he could have blown his load right there had he not been careful.

He withdraws his hand, pulling his shirt up so that when his cock slaps against his abdomen the sticky trail of his precum didn’t wet the fabric. His fingers are itching to wrap back around his cock but the little bit of excitement that dances across her face makes it impossible for him to just let her sit there and wait any longer. 

“Right then,” he slides a little lower in his seat, his bum moving against the leather, “You want my cock, baby? Want to taste me again?” 

“Yes please,” she raises her head from his knee, waits for him to nod, and then she wastes no time. She reaches out with her left hand, gripping loosely around his prick before flattening her tongue and dragging it across the head. Harry mewls, his head dipping back as the wet little muscle dances around the crown, heat pooling around his entire abdomen. Y/N moans against him like this was the only thing she’s ever wanted to do, before sponging kisses down his shaft, retracing her steps back up to the tip before she stretches her wet lips around him. She sinks low, moving her hand down as low as she goes. 

Harry’s hand falls down to her head again, stroking his fingers up and down against her scalp, “Fuck sake, you’ll make me cum soon if you keep that up.” She nods as if to say she wants that, before slipping up from his cock, popping off the tip but not straying far. Her lips are swollen and pink, puckered against his slit she slurps hungrily before tonguing down his shaft, “Tha’s it, there you go,” his heart is pounding, and while he should keep an eye on the door to make sure nobody is coming around, he can’t pull his eyes off of her. 

Y/N looks completely at ease, and she unhooks her pinky only so that she can slide both hands around his hips, and slot her fingers together. She’s holding him close, sinking her mouth back on him and once more he’s engulfed in that wet heat. Absently his hips buck into her mouth and the poor thing gags around him, and while it tightens the pressure around his cock he’s concerned with her first and foremost. He helps her ease off him but her arms still curl around his frame, “Sorry,” he apologizes, thumbing away the bit of drool that had clung to her lips -- the scene before him was pure yet carnal, her eyes watered and her mouth hung open as her chest rises and falls with bated breaths, “You okay?” 

“Mhm,” she hums, “Can I keep going, Daddy?” 

His cock twitches, a blurt of precum drip down from the slit, “Oh sweetheart,” he runs the back of his hand against her cheek, nodding, “Yes, you can.” 

It doesn’t scare him or worry him -- one time a mate had asked him if the whole Daddy debacle was different for him given his choice of career and study. However, he thinks this gives him a well-rounded view of the situation and he knows that in all ways, she is giving up her control to him as much as he wants she will allow. The title just solidifies it -- it doesn’t have to mean anything regarding her personal relationships with her own family. 

Which is why he doesn’t question her or push it. Hell, he reacts as casually as he can to it to not upset her, or make her feel weird for it. They could discuss it later, but not when she’s swimming in this happy spot -- where she can so comfortably utter the words to him dreamily, waiting for his okay, then pushing, even more, kisses up and down the sides. She pulls him back in her mouth, swirling her tongue eagerly as she sunk lower, knowing where to stop in an effort not to gag again. She sucks on him, tongues at him, hums and moans and whimpers around him. 

“You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?” She hums her response around him, “Relaxing me. . .making me feel so good -- such a sweetheart.” The more he talks to her and strokes her head, the more fervid she becomes. Bobbing her head, fingertips dipping against his lower back. 

Harry was going to cum and he was going to cum hard, and he warns Y/N of that when the tip of her tongue strokes against the frenulum and he feels the heat swell and boil in his abdomen, “I’m gonna cum -- fuck, I’m g’na cum. You’re gonna swallow it all for me, baby, every single drop.” She nodded as much as she could, swiping and lulling against that spot until she felt his cock throb, then she pulled him back into her mouth as he finished off. He cums in spurts, his cock throbs with each ribbon that leaves him, and he bites down hard on his knuckle as his orgasm splinters through his being. 

And Y/N is diligent in swallowing every drop, until he was dripping, sensitive and coaxing her off of him. He leaned back against his chair, sinking into the chair, bones feeling melty as he catches his breath, and Y/N withdraws, pulling her hands back. She shows him her tongue and it takes him a moment to realize she’s showing him she swallowed it all as he said. 

“Was I good?” She asks him and he nods, reaching down to drag his underwear and pants back up over his prick. 

“You were perfect,” he murmurs, “Up on the desk little one.” 

She scrambles, squirming her way onto the desk but not without moving the papers he was grading out of the way in a neat little pile. Then she’s sat before him, and he places his hands on her knees, spreading her out for him. He runs his thumb along her clothed pussy, smiling when her thighs instinctively twitch closed, “Have you touched yourself since I saw you last?” 

Y/N shakes her head adamantly, “No, you didn’t say that I could, so I haven’t.” 

He pouts his lip for her mockingly, “Poor little thing -- bet you’re aching for it aren’t you?” She nods, splitting her thighs further apart for him as he pets over her, before sliding his fingers back to her thighs, running the tips up and down the tender innermost portion, “Just want a little bit? Even if I don’t let you cum?”, 

“Yes please — I’ll be good.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he pats her thigh, “Why don’t you go lock the door for me and I’ll see what I can do?” Her demeanor turns shy for a moment, when she tips her chin down and makes no effort to move, his brows dip, “Wha’s wrong?”

“I — I already locked the door.”

Harry looks up to the door, noting that the brass lock had been turned over and he wonders how she had done it so smoothly, without him knowing. His hands pause on her thighs momentarily, “Oh, I see,” he begins, biting back a smile, “You were planning on being naughty weren’t you?”

Her lips pouted at him, “I just -- I did it in case! I thought maybe you called me in so we could play.” 

“Filthy,” he hums, before he clothes her thighs, loops his fingers around the waistband of the shorts she wore and begins wiggling them down her legs. He leaves her panties on, only because he found how much he loved seeing the wet patch at the front of the fabric when she parts her legs for him again. Swallowing thickly, he rolls closer, dragging his thumb against the damp spot and lets his gaze flicker up to her, “You’re soaking your little panties again.” 

“Sorry,” she murmurs sheepishly, but he merely shakes his head. 

“Don’t apologize for that -- never apologize for that,” he hooks his index finger at the opening for her leg, just to the left of where she was needy for him, “Think it’s about time I give you a little something.” He drags the cotton over to the side, revealing her pussy to him and he can’t help the way that his mouth waters. The lips are wet from her own arousal, her clit is engorged with blood. . .pleading for attention practically. Harry had no doubt in his mind that she hadn’t touched herself, merely from how needy and swollen she appeared to be. He was looking at a pussy that had been teased but not touched and -- well, god, he would be evil to not help her wouldn’t he be? 

So he skims the pad of his thumb over her clit, watching her clench and cooing when he adds pressure, rolling it in a little circle. Her hands are on either side of her gripping the edge of the desk, the tendons showing when she tenses and the sweetest little moan leaves her parted lips, “O-oh wow,” she exhales, shoulders slumping, her abdomen contracting as he does another slow, long roll, “That feels good.” 

“Yeah?” He hums, “You know what would feel even better?” 

Before she could respond to him, Harry leans in, dragging the flat of his tongue from her drippy little hole up to her clit where he gives a soft little suckle. Her thighs fight to close around his head, fingers digging into the soft strands of his hair and tugging as he slid his tongue up and down her slit. She mewls as he licks deeper, wetting his mouth -- her taste is heady, all-encompassing, and sweet. Harry is buzzing when he withdraws, knowing that his lips are glistening with her and the look on her face. . .god, he thinks he would frame it if he could. 

He pushes back a bit, giving himself enough room to stand before he brackets her with his arms and leans forward to smear his mouth over hers. Y/N kisses him fervently, and he tastes himself on her mouth while she tastes herself on his. It was good. . .he loved how she kissed him like she was paid to, parting her lips for him, letting his tongue slide into her mouth and stroke against her tongue. Harry uses one hand to settle at the nape of her neck which is a spot he finds she likes immensely by the way she keens into him. 

“Sweet little thing,” he murmurs against her mouth when they part, “I think I’ll keep you on edge just a little while more, hm? ‘Cos s’mine now, innit babe? I decide.” 

Her gaze toward him is moony as she nods. 

“You decide.”