Warning: Explicit sexual content, male/male relationship, professor/student dynamic, age gap, rough sex, power imbalance. 18+ only.
"Oh God! Professor Cross! Please!"
Peter's desperate cry echoed through the locked office as Professor Damien Cross pounded into his ass with relentless precision. Peter was bent over the massive oak desk, his pants around his ankles, his shirt pushed up, completely exposed and vulnerable.
And he'd never felt more alive.
Damien's fourteen-inch cock stretched him impossibly wide, filling him so completely that Peter could feel it in his stomach. Each brutal thrust pushed Peter forward on the desk, papers scattering to the floor, the wood creaking under their combined weight.
"That's it," Damien growled, his large hand wrapping around Peter's leaking cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. "Take it. Take every fucking inch."
Peter pushed back desperately, meeting each thrust, impaling himself deeper on that massive cock. It wasn't enough. Would never be enough. He was addicted to this....to the stretch, the fullness, the way Professor Cross filled him like no one else could.
"More," Peter gasped. "Please, Professor, I need more....."
"Greedy boy," Damien said with dark satisfaction, his grip tightening on Peter's cock. "You can't get enough, can you? My star student in this, at least."
Peter sobbed at the reminder.....he was failing Advanced Literary Theory. Had been failing for weeks. That's why he'd come to Professor Cross's office after hours, desperate for extra credit, for help, for anything that would let him graduate.
He hadn't expected this.
Hadn't expected Professor Cross to look at him with those intense gray eyes and say, "I can help you pass. But it'll require... private tutoring."
Hadn't expected to end up bent over this desk, taking the biggest cock he'd ever experienced, loving every brutal second of it.
"Don't worry," Damien murmured, leaning over Peter's back, his breath hot against Peter's ear. His hips never stopped moving, never stopped that relentless pounding. "You're going to pass my course. With flying colors. I'll make sure of it."
His hand stroked Peter's cock faster, matching the brutal pace of his thrusts, and Peter felt his orgasm building impossibly fast.
"But first," Damien continued, his voice dropping lower, darker, "you're going to come on my cock. Show me how much you appreciate this... extra credit."
Peter couldn't hold back. The combination of that massive cock hitting his prostate with every thrust, the strong hand working his dick, the forbidden thrill of fucking his professor in his office where anyone could potentially hear.....it was too much.
"I'm going to.....Professor, I'm...."
"Come for me, Peter. Now."
Peter came with a strangled cry, his cock pulsing in Damien's hand, cum shooting across the desk, his ass clenching tight around that thick shaft still pounding into him.
"Fuck," Damien groaned, his control finally breaking. "So tight. So fucking perfect."
He slammed deep one final time and came, filling Peter with hot spurts that seemed endless. Peter felt it.....the warmth spreading inside him, marking him, claiming him as Professor Cross's in the most primal way possible.
When Damien finally pulled out, Peter collapsed boneless on the desk, completely spent, cum leaking from his well-used hole.
"How did we get here?" Peter whispered, still trying to catch his breath.
Damien chuckled, tucking himself back into his pants with practiced ease. "Let me remind you..."