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How To Get An A In Murder Class, In Five Easy Steps

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Step One: Be Open To New Ideas

It's not just about being smart. Wes knows that. Sometimes you have to take matters into your own hands. Besides, she had her hands on him once, thanking him for not saying anything, and he wanted them again.

As it turned out, he didn't have to fantasize for long.

"Mr. Gibbons, my office."

The order comes sharply as they're researching - for the fourth day - whether St. Vincent really did kill his second wife.

"Yes?" Wes asks in the doorway, fidgeting slowly.

"Close the door, we need to talk."

Everyone still working could hear; a collective "Oooooohhhh" came from the others. Wes made a face, but complied.

"Good. I just wanted to give you your reward for keeping quiet."

She looks intense and for a second Wes thinks that his fantasy is going to come true.

"Meet me upstairs after you're done researching."

We can't think of anything to do except nod his head and stammer out an answer. He swears Keating is laughing at him through her smile.

"So, what did waitlist do wrong?" Asher asks, not even looking up from his book.

"Nothing, it was nothing," Wes quickly says, but Bonnie's giving him a knowing look, and he can't stop himself from blushing. "She just needed to-"

"No one cares," says Michaela. She points her pen at a large stack on the floor. "We haven't started on those yet."

He wanted to protest that he'd been gone maybe two minutes, and of course nobody had started on the stack, but complaining wasn't going to get him anywhere.

"Fine," he says curtly, and takes his seat. If that's how Michaela wanted to play it, that's how he'd play it.

Step Two: Don't Oversell Yourself

Reading up on self-defense would normally cause anyone to go soft. Not Wes. Hiding a boner from your classmates is harder than one might think. He keeps two books carefully positioned in his lap while he reads. Not that he was soaking up anything he read.

His blood runs cold as he realizes he has no idea what he's going to be doing, sex-wise.

No, he wasn't a virgin, but sex with Annalise Keating wasn't the same as some casual one-night stand. His palms started to sweat.

"Come on, Wes, snap out of it."

Wes looks up to Connor's annoyed face. "The book. Your lap. I need it. Unless you think it needs to be cuddled more."

Even Laurel laughs, though Asher can't resist a zinger, "He not your type? Can't take it yourself?"

"Sooooo not my type," Connor says, not missing a beat.

An annoyed frown flashes over Wes' face before he quickly comes back with, "Yea, I'm a little too rough for you, huh?"

Then comes the voice from the doorway before Wes can figure out how to give the book without revealing how hard he still is. "I hope this is helping the case," Annalise says, glaring into the room, her eyes lingering on Wes.

Oh fuck, Wes thinks. On the upside, he can now meekly hand the book to Connor, who at least has the audacity to look chagrined himself. Though when Annalise leaves, he turns back to Wes, a smirk on his face.

"You only think you've had rough."

Wes can't help but turn beet red, but no one else has noticed. They're in for a long night.

Step Three: Do Some Review

At two am, Wes excuses himself the bathroom. He knows he can't spend forever in there, but he needs some space to think. And perhaps look up a few things on his phone.

The first thing he looks up, unoriginally, is "rough sex". When gay porn is the majority of the links that pop up, he starts to get more creative. "Wife wants rough sex" he tries, and the links that come up give him plenty of non-bondage suggestions. Not that Wes is uncomfortable with bondage, but he gets the idea that maybe his Professor wouldn't like being tied up by one of her students.

When he gets out, Annalise is too close to the door to have been there by chance.

"Problems, Mr Gibbons?"

Wes starts to wonder if he's going to be permanently red in the face. "No, we're all fine," he squeaks out.

"Don't forget about later," is all she says and again Wes is convinced that she's laughing at him.

He shakes his head, and attempts to slip past her; she reaches a hand down and palms him quickly. "Professor," he says quietly, but she has already moved past him.

"Just making sure you're ready," she says before she closes the door to the bathroom.

He has to stand at the top of the stairs for three minutes before he's ready to go back down. More review. Nothing should kill his sexual appetite faster, but he only finds it enhanced to the point where he cannot think straight.

Step Four: Manage Your Expectations

The hours drag on like torture, until Bonnie releases them at 4am. He goes up to "use the bathroom." When he comes out, downstairs is absolutely silent and black. He takes a deep breath before heading into the bedroom.

He's not at all sure of what he wants to do, but he thinks that he'll make it up as he goes along. He confidently strides into the room, but her hand in the air, stops him.

"Strip." She commands him, her eyes locked on his. He fumbles out of his clothes - all of them, even the socks - and is suddenly very unsure.

"On the bed," she points and Wes has to take a deep breath before he moves; a deep breath to assess the situation. His reward isn't getting to fuck her - his reward is her fucking him. He could live with that.

He fakes his confidence back, strides to the bed like he's done this before and climbs on, supine. She smiles, and he knows she is laughing at him.

"Good," she says, throwing one of her thighs across his, pinning him down. "Hands above your head," she says, and he instantly obeys. "You don't ejaculate until I tell you to," she further orders, and Wes only nods. She was clinical about it so far, and Wes hopes she relaxes a little.

With the tight way in which she grips his cock, he knows he's going to get it rough. Not that he minds, the simple fact of her touch has him hard - and holding on to his cum. He closes his eyes to concentrate.

"Open them," she commands, her hand moving expertly across his cock, teasing at the head where precum is trickling out. He obeys, his eyes wide in terror and excitement. When she deems him ready enough, she positions herself. She's not perfect, and as Wes goes to steady her, she cries, "No!" and Wes locks his hands back over his head, gripping both wrists tightly.

She moves slowly, as though she's unsure as well. She grips his chest, her own heaving with effort.

"It's okay," he says. Her eyes are no longer laughing at him, and she looks angry that he has spoken, but she does not speak. He takes care to thrust at her pace; she's controlling the situation, he's only along for the ride. She closes her eyes, but he doesn't dare.

She pushes against him, hard, and he meets her demand, pushes just as hard back against her; she moves faster, harder, he moves faster, harder. It's not a game, it's not even really fun, it's exhausting and takes an incredible amount of effort. He props himself up on his elbows, trying to make it easier for the both of them. This is the hardest he's ever had to hold himself together, it gets harder she drops her head to his neck, then moves her tongue up to his ear, licking the lobe twice before plunging her tongue as far as it will go. He doesn't move except to keep up her pace; he is too terrified to even breathe. She climaxes around him, and he has to cry out in pain to keep from releasing inside of her.

"It's okay," she says into his ear, and he bites the inside of his lip to keep from moving his head. "It's okay," she repeats. "You can."

It's the best orgasm he's ever had.

Step Five: Confidence Is Key

He puts his clothes on quickly, sneaking up glances at her. She looks like she's committed murder herself. She looks like she's committed the biggest regret of her life. Wes can't help but try to take advantage.

"You know, Professor, if you-"

"Did I tell you to talk?"

"If you need to again, that's all," Wes says, and he doesn't look unsure about it. Within seconds, the light is back in Annalise's eyes; once again, she's laughing at him. Wes decides this is probably a very good thing.

"You would come back for more of that?"

Wes shrugs, pretending to be nonchalant about it. Would he come back? What would possess him NOT to let his professor fuck him? The sex was on her schedule - it was entirely for her satisfaction, not his, but the orgasm had been fantastic. He'd take more of that over sleep any day of the week.

She concedes, Wes can tell the way her eyes flicker with uncertainty for just a moment. She's not someone used to being vulnerable, so it makes sense she wouldn't let herself be in front of anyone, let alone a simple first year student.

He smiles back at her, this time, it is his eyes laughing at her.

"You let me know," he says. And without waiting for an answer, he leaves.