Chapter Text
Ah, victory.
The overwhelming number of open tabs--so many that their titles are no longer visible--fuck off into empty pixels as you close the browser and you’ve never witnessed a prettier sight. Friday night. All assignments turned in before the deadline, with high chances of a passing grade. A warm bed and an endless amount of TV shows are waiting for you in your dorm. Just gotta get there, I’m so tired.
A series of bangs interrupts your reverie, a frown souring your face. You spring to your feet, slinging your backpack over a shoulder. Walking across the empty rows of computers, you’re surprised to find a lit screen. There’s… a guy. Your eyes swipe across his hulking form, he’s so tall that the desk might as well be his chair. He’s got a hand splayed over the cheap wood, while the other is busy spanking the side of a CPU.
What the hell? No one else should be in at this hour.
“Hey, you there!” you shout. “Yes, you dumb fuck hitting a computer. Stop right this second.” Reaching his row, you drop your bag at your feet, crossing your arms over your chest.
“I’ll fucking stop when this is working,” he growls, face half-lit with the blue tones of the monitor.
“It would be way more useful if you banged your head instead.” You stomp closer, glaring at his hand until he catches your hint and lets go of the PC. “Maybe it could spark some primitive brain functionality. I probably wouldn’t count on it.”
A line creases on his brows, his plump mouth curling down.“So that’s how you speak to the students you’re supposed to assist,” he pauses, reading your name on your badge, spitting each syllable as if it’s venom. “If I knew there was T.A. here all this time we’d have been talking a lot sooner.”
His gaze lingers a moment longer as he still stares at the small rectangle dangling on your chest.
“If you’re not a computer engineering student, then I don’t have to help you. I’m kicking you out because I’m closing the lab. You should be happy I’m not reporting you for damage to faculty property. This time.” Raising your chin, your eye twitches at how much you need to tilt your head to look at him.
He grasps the back of the chair he had been sitting on, bending forward to bring his face closer to yours. “You… shouldn’t be able to kick me out...” He says your name again, and you find yourself burning to make him say it over and over, to make him yell and cry and whisper your name in a broken moan as he comes apart for you.
A constellation of beauty marks scatters across his skin, you’re jumping with the need to bridge the distance and count each and every one of them with a kiss, tracing your tongue across the span of his face. Your fingers twitch and you choke on the urge to trail your knuckles over his long nose as you’re lured by his sharp, vulturous eyes.
I hate him and I don’t even know his name. Trailing your gaze over the expanse of his chest, you don’t find the ID you’re looking for, but then you move lower , finding the flimsy plastic attached to his belt loop. Adam Sackler it is.
He says something then, his deep, booming voice startling you.
Shuffling backwards, you almost fall, tripping over your backpack. Shame burns on your cheeks, increasing with every second you keep reproaching yourself. Clearing your throat, you continue,”I can and I’ll hurl you to the door if it comes to it. What do you even think you’re accomplishing by hitting a computer? If whatever you’ve written is not working, it’s entirely your fault, not the program’s. It’s only executing what you’ve instructed it to.”
“No, it’s not. I’ve been wasting my time here and nothing is working.” He turns his head towards the monitor, revealing the side view of his face. A ear peeks out from beneath his dark hair and the way his long nose twitches as he frowns is perfect .
Sighing, you switch your gaze from him to the screen, then to the vacant seat at his left and to the clock. You know you’ve lost when you’re pulling the chair back so you can sit on it. “What are you trying to do?”
“A loop.” He settles down beside you, all of his four large, enormous limbs tucked somehow under the desk. His foot taps on the linoleum, knee bumping against the bottom of the table, sending vibrations rattling down your spine. The breadth of his shoulders and back is too great to be contained by the meager chair, he’s encroaching on some of your space, close enough to set your flesh alight with the proximity of his body.
“Show me, Adam” you say, eyes scanning over the dozens of lines he’s written so far. Once he highlights the relevant portion, you spot the issue. “Alright, I see what you’re missing. You’re close to getting it, want to take another look and try to guess it for yourself?”
“Fuck no, I don’t even think I can read anymore, my eyes are shot, I just want to get this dumb assignment done and go home.” His hand engulfs the mouse, it’s a wonder he can click a button or manage to type something, given that the keyboard looks more like a trackpad when under his massive fingers.
Narrowing your eyes at him, you reply, “Well, yeah, so do I, since I’ve already
finished
my work and was about to leave. Maybe next time you can pick easier classes if you don’t want to crack your head with the tasks. I see in the header comment of your code that you’ve chosen to do it in x86 Assembly. Why?” Your voice is trembling as you try to police your tone, as much as there’s a lot you’d like to say to him, doing so while under the academic institution can earn you a whole array of trouble.
He laughs, scratching at his coarse goatee. “Are you this stressed all the time?”
“I- are you for real? I’m trying to help you, and you have the gall to call me stressed? You know what, go home and tank your grade, I don’t care, I’m out.” Leaping to your feet, you throw the chair back, shuddering at the inharmonious sound of its legs scraping on the floor. You lean down to pick up your belongings, stopping when warm, thick digits capture your wrist. As your pulse soars, you hope with all your dumb heart and smooth brain that he doesn’t feel the thrumming just beneath the pads of his fingers.
“Wait!” He rakes a thumb over the delicate skin, applying pressure on your scorching flesh.
“What?” you snarl, whirling around and coiling a hand around his forearm. The muscles under your grip are firm, even as you dig the tips of your fingers into his arm you find some resistance, he probably doesn’t feel a thing.
You’re trapped into a staredown, gazing deep into his amber flecked eyes, stuck in a deadlock as you hold onto each other, neither willing to let go first.
He sighs groans, lips parting to reveal an adorable set of crooked teeth. “I’m sorry for being an asshole. I’ll try to not do that again. Damn it, Hannah’s fucking right and I hate it, she said I say the wrong thing at the worst time possible. I keep digging myself into a hole, I’m loud, I’m too big, I’m too much and I ramble. Bet the error’s right in front of me and I’m not seeing it.”
“I wouldn’t count on whoever
Hannah
is to be one hundred percent right. Of all these things I agree you’re big. Maybe a bit rambly. I’ve heard worse, I’m not cataloging you into the asshole bucket just yet, Sackler.” You offer a half-smile, heart almost bursting with contentment when he retributes with a wider one. “Look, I’m not going to lie to you, yes, the error is right in front of you and you’re not really seeing it, but you’ll find it and you’ll fix it. Then, you’ll always remember it whenever you’re programming again and you’ll be able to catch the mistake as soon as it happens. If it happens.”
“Guess one last try can’t make this any worse,” he mumbles, tone lower and deeper.
A beat of silence passes and in an unspoken agreement, you release each other. The whole room seems to be taken by a freezing chill now that he’s not touching you anymore. You step over to his right side, pretending you don’t feel his stare on you, half-sitting on the desk, letting your other leg dangle. If you swing your foot you’ll reach his lap, and maybe you’re not alone in that line of thought. Sackler’s voracious gaze is fixed on the spot where your bodies almost collide.
You cough, averting his attention to your face, jaw clenching as you pray you can maintain your composure long enough for you to help him and go back to your apartment. “List the constructs you need to execute a loop,” you say, pointing to the screen.
“A block of code,” he trails off, waiting for acknowledgement, “and a condition.”
You nod, probably way more enthusiastic than you should be, considering the most exciting event of your Friday is helping a rando well past your office hours. “Exactly. You have all of those in your program. Do you think the condition is always returning the right value?”
He leans closer, the edge of his desk digging into his flesh, stretching his already snug t-shirt even tighter over his wide chest. “Can’t believe I didn’t fucking see this an hour ago, kid” Sackler hisses. The collar of his shirt slips down a little, revealing more of the column of his neck and teasing the skin of his torso. It’s littered with as many moles as his face, firm muscles rippling when he shifts on his seat.
“Kid?” you taunt, arching an eyebrow. “Who the fuck you think you are, Han Solo?”
A huge smile stretches across his face, revealing more of the crooked teeth, eyes wrinkling just right . “I’m sorry, was that too informal for you, Supreme Leader?”
“Supreme Leader is a bit much but I’ll take it,” you laugh, body humming with this new wave of delight that crashes and pools at your stomach. “Now, how are you going to fix your issue?”
“I need to make sure the counter variable is also getting decreased, then the code won’t keep looping forever. I’ve looked at this tiny, lame screen a million times and I never saw what was wrong. Then you tell me to do it again as if it would make a difference and it works. I don’t get it, it doesn’t make any sense.”
“It would, if you were smarter.” You’re not inclined to move from where you’re sitting, not when you have the perfect view of his big nose, of the way it sticks out from his face, scrunching a bit when he frowns upon hearing your teasing words.
He crosses his arms, leaning back on his seat. “You have the right temper to be a professor, I want to congratulate you for picking the right track, I have to give you that.”
"The only reason I became a T.A. was for the power trip I can get whenever I help unfortunate students like you.” Tilting your head to the side, you read over his code one more time, searching for anything else that you could have missed. “I'm still salty that you thought hitting a computer was a good idea," you drawl. When you turn back towards him, you swear he’s closer than before. Sackler’s near enough for your ankle to graze the side of his thigh; the coarse fibers of his jeans tickle the slit of exposed skin.
"I didn't see why not to do that… it works on my fridge," he shrugs.
You can’t tell if he’s being serious or not. Toying with your sleeve, you’re trying to come up with
something
to say, but the avid glint in his eyes as he stares at your calf and the way his cheekbones hollow as he grinds his jaw erases any thread of rational thought.
"Now, I'm saying this with all the affection in the world: please get out, I need to close the lab."
“Hmm,” he hums, running his tongue over his lower lip. “Do you? Something tells me you have nowhere else to be.” When he lifts his gaze, his pupils are blown out, encroaching most of his honeyed irises.
“You can’t just assume that. What if I have a party to attend?” Motioning to slide off the desk, you’re stopped by a hand that settles on your hip, palm pressing against the yielding flesh.
“You do, kid? Where?” His thumb glides back and forth, causing every gust of breath to evade your lungs.
“The bar.” As soon as the answer leaves your idiotic mouth, you wish you could take it back.
“ The bar? Yeah, I know exactly the one you're talking about. I wasn’t aware that there’s only one in the whole campus,” he huffs, carding his free hand through his unruly hair.
No backing out, now. We die like men. Your fingers are cold and sweaty, sticking on your skin as you scratch the back of your neck. “It’s the one across the street from the History & Philosophy building. You’ve probably been there before.”
“Oh, I have. Shame it closed two months ago.” He grins once more, sharp teeth glistening as his smile stretches larger and larger. “It’s alright to have no plans for your night. Nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I’m honored to be the highlight of your evening.”
Taking in a sharp breath, you hope your face doesn’t betray the desperate need that’s coursing through your body. “Highlight? That’s a bit much, don’t you think?”
“No. I think that’s exactly it.” He squeezes your hip once, then trails his hand down your thigh, grazing his fingers over your leggings.
It’s as if your blood is rising to meet his touch, your body heats up, moisture draining from your mouth; you want to claw out of your clothes and let the frigid air soothe your febrile skin.
Sackler leans his head down, nipping at the hem of your dress. “I haven't thanked you yet for helping me out. For being so, so good to me.”
A languid whimper escapes you before you can do anything about it.
Fuck.
“What was that?” he murmurs against your thigh, hot breath fanning through the slim fabric that still covers you.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you say, “It’s nothing... I’m glad I could help-”
“You shivered too.” Sackler plants kisses on your leg, trailing upwards until the bridge of his nose rests on the apex of your thighs.
The hem of your dress is now rendered useless as it lies bunched up at your hips. He snaps his hands to the waistband of your leggings, tugging them down at an agonizing pace.
“No, I
didn’t
,” you hiss through gritted teeth. You'd rather chew on a keyboard than ever, absolutely ever admit he's right. Each inch of skin that he exposes lights on fire, a flame that’s at the same time fueled and extinguished by his touch.
“You fucking did. When I said you were good to me.” He gives your thigh a quick slap, massaging the stinging flesh. “There it is. No no no, don’t give me the looking away bullshit. Want me to praise you, is that it?”
Your hips buck, but he keeps your legs in place, letting out a growl from the depths of his throat. Sackler grips your knees--planting goosebumps as he caresses your flesh--and spreads them apart.
“I- I don’t want you to tell me anything you don’t mean because I asked you to.” Your mouth falls open when he starts to shred your leggings in two, splitting the fabric as if it's paper. In no time you’re bare to him from the waist down, bare to his touch, his warmth; raw and eager beneath his stare.
“I wouldn’t do that. I mean every word.” He drops to his knees, bracing himself by the bruising hold he now has on your thighs. “I think I ripped your underwear too. I’m sorry,” he breathes your name, eyes flickering to your face for an instant, “I’ll make it up to you.”
“You better do, Sackler, or I swear I will destroy- fuck!” you cry out, tirade long forgotten now that you’re distracted by a series of wet kisses that edge closer and closer to your cunt.
“Care to say that again? You will ‘destroy-fuck’ me? No, you will stay put. If you want to keep being good to me you won’t move an inch. Got it?” He bites at your inner thigh, hard enough to make you twitch, but light enough not to break your skin… yet.
“You’re an asshole!” you cry out, shooting daggers at him. You want to wipe that dangerous, arrogant, cocky, self-assured smile off his face but what you want even harder is to have him finish what he started. Inhaling a deep breath, you make a point to show off how
still
you are, save for the subtle rise and fall of your chest and the muted pants that escape you every now and then.
“Much better.” Sackler drags his tongue over the area where he bit you, pressing on the tender spot until he has you on the verge of squirming under his hold. When he hears a pained, desperate wail, he
moves
.
Hooking your legs over his shoulders, he yanks you closer to him, causing you to squeal in surprise as you reach backward in search of something to grip. Instead you shove the monitor off the desk and a crash resounds in the quiet, windowless room.
Your back is now splayed over the vacant space on the table, forearms braced at your sides, palms holding on the edge. Lifting your head to search for his gaze in the dark, you ask, “Do you think I broke it?”
“Yes,” he chuckles, “you did. You’re a fucking vandal, destroying faculty property. I should turn you in. Too bad I’m going to be so busy making you forget everything but my name.”
His warm breath teases your drenched cunt, you feel the infinitesimal changes in the almost non-existent space between his mouth and your heat, knowing he’s about to touch you instills a new surge of wetness. “I doubt that,” you retort in a broken voice.
Instead of answering, he dips his head forward, having the nerve to wink at you before he licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit. True to your word you remain still, even while every fiber of your body is flaring, sending mixed, fragmented signals; yearning for more, for less, for him to go deeper, to give you a break.
Sackler kneads the pliant flesh of your hips as he leans further into the act, laving his tongue faster and harder. Up, down, left, right he repeats no pattern, does everything in his power to make it as unpredictable as possible, to keep you guessing and tuned to his every move. When he pulls back, he’s enraptured by the tiny glints of wetness spread over your glistening pussy.
His cock hardens with each pant he pulls from you, with the little gasps that you struggle to silence, the moans that die when you bite your lip, the muted, almost intelligible whispers where you say
don’t stop
over and over. Adam shifts to the balls of his feet, splaying one hand over your lower stomach and then runs his thumb over your dripping cunt, gathering your wetness.When he’s about to touch your clit, he stops, eyes trained on your face.
Agonizing seconds tick by as you wait for him to do something.
“Adam?” you call out, craning your neck to look at him.
“Hmm?” he grins, knowing and savouring how much he’s aggravating you. Moving his hands to caress your thighs, he watches your reaction every time the pads of his fingers roam closer to your heat, but never stopping or touching you there again.
“Why... why did you stop ?” you draw out each word, struggling to form a simple question.
“Do you want me to keep going?” To your fury, he shifts further away, making a point to cross his arms.
“Do I have to spell it out for you? Isn’t it obvious?” your mouth opens and closes, but your mind’s too scrambled to think of anything else to add.
“It is. But it makes me way fucking harder when I hear you say it. Especially with this murderous look you have right now… I know you want to claw my eyes out.” He bites his lip, offering you a smile when you’re about to lunge at him. “If you want me to keep going, you better start talking.”
Stupid prick, he has no right looking this adorable.
“Alright.” You shift in your seat, opening your legs wider. “Adam Sackler, I want you to keep eating me out. I also want to bonk you in the head with a keyboard, but maybe we can leave that for later.”
“Kinky. Vandalism is my jam. Since you asked so nicely…” He lunges in a heartbeat, knees slamming to the ground, going from zero to a hundred and sucking your clit under his plush lips. “I don’t want to stop, I could stay here all night, making you cum so many times you’d never forget me.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you taunt, voice faltering once he increases the speed and pressure of his tongue. “It would take something short of a brain injury for me to forget y- forget tonight anytime soon.” You’re on the brink of overstimulation, feet buckling, hitting the hard span of his back as you try to make sense of the raw, sharp bursts of pleasure that threatens to overtake you.
“If you’re still alert enough to roast me,” he pulls back and spits over your cunt, watching as you clench over nothing, “then I’m not doing enough.”
Whatever snarky reply you had in mind proves useless when Sackler ramps up to the max. He coils an arm around your thighs, reaching over with his other hand across the length of your body wrapping his whole palm over your throat. He’s not squeezing-yet-applying just enough pressure for you to know his hand is there , that it’s big , so large that it feels as if there’s an iron shackle around your neck.
His feral eyes peer up at you, they’re about the only part of his features you can see, given that his mouth is descending lower and lower, the long bridge of his nose pressing against your folds.
Sackler clamps his hand once and that’s all you need to let go. “Adam, I’m going to-”
“No, you’re not,” he jumps back, getting a few feet away from you just for good measure, eyes scanning your quaking body as your orgasm withers.
An annoying ache throbs in your temple, your eyes twitches and your mouth distorts in a snarl, “You fucking peverted asshole, why did you do this?”
“Peverted asshole?” He undoes his fly. “What else?
Catching on his little game, you prop on leg up on the desk, letting the other dangle free, relishing in the way his eyes track your every move. “I bet you sleep with every girl that helps you. Gonna add me to that list, huh? Do you always whore yourself out for a better grade?”
“The pot calling the kettle black. Do you sleep with every dumb fuck that asks for your help? Is that what you do in your office hours, TA?” He yanks his jeans down--sans underwear. “Let me help you rephrase it. Repeat after me, ‘you’re a pervert and I am your desperate little slut’.”
This time you feel a new gush of wetness dripping out of you, just by listening to the goddamned way he speaks . “You’re a pervert and I am your desperate little slut.”
“Doing so well for me...” he groans, head falling back as he palms his cock with ferocity.
You whimper at the sight, it looks big next to his already huge hand, what is it going to look like once it’s next to yours?
“Shh… shh… you’re being too loud. Don’t want the cleaning crew walking in on us, right, kid?” he pants, nostrils flared, jaw slacked open and throat strung tight as he struggles to keep quiet himself. He sways closer.
“No,” you reply in a weak voice, gaze fixed on the fast and rough pace that Adam set, watching his cock bob up and down like a moth drawn to a flame.
His hand smacks against his body, tireless grunts bubbling on his throat. “Can you be quieter? Be good for me, hmm?” His tone is sweet as sugar, revealing no hint of the feral frenzy that he’s holding in, of how he almost just came by seeing you hang onto his every word, staring up at him with glazed over eyes.
“Yes, I’ll be quieter, just come back here,” you wail, reaching out a hand to pull him closer.
He takes it, interlacing his fingers with yours, walking forward until he’s standing between your parted legs. Sackler guides your hand to cusp his balls, eyes rolling back along with a string of hissed curses.
“You said you were going to make me cum so many times… I’m still waiting,” you drawl, mouth curved in a pout. Squeezing as little as you can, you’re rewarded with a grunt, his whole body tenses, legs spasming and thrashing against the desk.
“I will, but I’m doing it
my
way.” He rests his free hand on the hair at the crown of your head. “I bet your cunt’s so fucking tight right now. Tight and wet, dripping for me.”
“It is.” You wrap your legs around his thighs, hoping that’s enough to stop him from moving away from you again.
“Do you think you can take me? Can’t have you crying on my cock,” he folds his body forward, whispering right over the shell of your ear.
“Maybe that’s what I want,” you whisper. Once you feel him pulling back in the slightest, your hands snap to grasp at his sweater, wrenching the fabric nearer you. “Don’t you dare pull away and stop again, you stupid-”
He laughs, plucking your wrists away as if you were doing nothing, bringing them up to his lips so he can nibble and suck at the skin.
“I bet those hands do a lot more than type stupidly fast. Come on, switch places with me.” He unhooks your legs from around his thighs, bracing on the desk and standing to his full height, which is approximately six-foot-pretty-fucking tall.
You bump against his solid chest, built like a wall, hand twitching as you fight the urge to grope him into oblivion. “What are you doing?” you grumble as he takes your spot.
“How can I expect you to take my cock if you don’t even know how to jerk me off? We’ll start there.” He points to a spot on the floor. “Kneel there and give me your hands.”