“Hey, Professor Hale,” Stiles says as he saunters on into the classroom. Derek’s sitting at the desk in front of the blackboard, sorting papers into their proper folders, but he takes a moment to look up at Stiles.
“I thought I told you not to call me that,” Derek huffs, frowning slightly.
“Aw, Der, can’t I be proud that I managed to snag such an intelligent man?” Stiles replies, grinning as he perches on the edge of the desk.
“It makes me feel like you’re a student,” Derek complains, shoving one paper a little too roughly into a binder.
“Yeah, well, would you let a student do this?” Stiles asks, pushing himself up off the desk and plopping down in Derek’s lap, straddling him. He leans in then, brushing his lips against Derek’s teasingly.
“Stiles – are you – ” Derek starts, but Stiles is pleased to note that he leans into the kiss unconsciously.
“Oh yeah,” Stiles replies, grinning as he grinds down into Derek’s lap, drawing a soft, “Fuck,” from him.
“We shouldn’t,” Derek protests, although the way he grips Stiles’ hips a little too tightly betrays what he really wants. “There’s another class in here in less than half an hour.”
“Then I guess we’ll have to be quick,” Stiles says, unconcerned. “Good thing I came prepared.”
“Came prepared?” Derek asks, sounding more than a little wary. Which, really, is probably healthy of him.
“Uh huh,” Stiles answers, ducking his head down to nuzzle at Derek’s neck. “You don’t seriously think I normally take that long in the shower, do you?”
Derek takes in a sharp breath, and Stiles’ smirk widens slightly as he feels Derek start to harden in his neatly pressed dress pants.
“We’re going to get caught,” Derek mutters, but he still doesn’t relinquish his grip on Stiles.
“C’mon, Derek,” Stiles whines, rocking down into Derek’s lap again and grinding down on Derek’s rapidly growing cock. “It’s been nearly a month and we still haven’t had office or classroom sex.”
“This is completely unprofessional,” Derek grumbles, but his argument is weakened by the way he bucks up against Stiles.
“Are you really saying you don’t want me to fuck you over my desk later?” Stiles asks, leaning mouth at Derek’s neck. He’s temped to suck a dark hickey onto his skin, but he’s pretty sure Derek doesn’t want a repeat of last time when he’d forgotten not to take off his scarf in front of his students.
“Stiles – ” Derek groans, one hand coming up to fist itself in Stiles’ hair.
“You don’t want me to bend you over my desk, and you don’t want to press me up against the blackboard, and you don’t want to suck me off under – ” Stiles continues, although he already knows that he’s completely won over Derek. Derek seems to have realized it, too, and leans in to capture Stiles’ mouth in a hungry kiss, effectively shutting him up.
“If you keep talking like that this is going to be over too quickly,” Derek huffs, adjusting Stiles’ position in his lap slightly so that their dicks were pressed together, drawing a low moan from Stiles.
“Well, we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” Stiles replies, his voice a little breathy. “Just let me – ”
He pulls back from Derek, scrambling to discard his shoes, socks, pants, and finally underwear, throwing them haphazardly onto the floor. He belated realizes that the condom and packet of lube he’d brought with are still in the pocket of his jeans and he has to take a moment to fish them out, giving Derek a slightly sheepish smile as he sinks back into his lap.
“So, where were we?” Stiles asks, trying to sound coy.
“Smooth,” Derek snorts, but he’s smiling slightly, so Stiles doesn’t count it as a complete failure.
“Don’t you know it,” Stiles quips, leaning in to kiss Derek again. This one’s longer than their previous ones and Stiles doesn’t hesitate to fuck his tongue into Derek’s mouth as soon as he opens it. When he pulls back, he’s pleased to note that Derek’s breathing is just a little heavier, and that his lips are red and shiny with saliva.
He can’t help but yelp a little, though, when he feels Derek suddenly tug at the plug buried firmly in his ass.
“Looks like you really were telling the truth about being prepared,” Derek says as he pulls the plug out a little before fucking it sharply back into Stiles, who can’t help but make another breathy, embarrassing sound.
“Fuck,” Stiles moans, rolling his hips and fucking himself back onto the plug, letting his eyes flutter shut and his head fall back.
However, before he really has much of a chance to enjoy the sensation, Derek pulls the toy completely out of him. Stiles whines at the loss, feeling suddenly empty, but soon enough he feels the familiar pressure of Derek’s fingers against him. Two slide in easily and he sighs in content as he thrusts back against them, reveling in the way Derek rubs against his prostate in a practiced motion.
“C’mon, c’mon,” Stiles pants, dropping his head forward against Derek’s neck again as he grinds down against his fingers. “Get in me already. I thought you were the one worried about time.”
“Right, sorry,” Derek mutters, taking the condom packet from Stiles with his free hand and ripping it open with his teeth. Stiles can’t help but stare, another sharp spark of arousal traveling through him. “Do you need any more…?”
Stiles blinks at him for a moment, confused, before he realizes that Derek’s holding up the packet of lube.
“’m good,” Stiles replies, shaking his head. Derek studies him carefully for a moment before nodding and shoving the lube into his pocket before fumbling with his fly. Stiles lets out a little huff of laughter and bats Derek’s hand away, opening it easily and shoving Derek’s pants down just far enough to get his hard cock out. He takes the condom from Derek then, rolling it down smoothly.
“Ready?” Derek asks, waiting for Stiles to nod before gripping his thighs and carefully hefting him up and over onto his cock. Stiles can’t help but let out a groan as he sinks down onto Derek in one smooth motion, reveling in the feeling of fullness.
“Fuck yeah,” Stiles groans, rocking down onto Derek. Derek responds with a sharp thrust upwards, lighting Stiles up in all the best ways.
“You feel so good,” Derek murmurs, thrusting up again and leaning forward to press his lips to Stiles’ capturing them in a surprisingly gentle kiss.
“So do you,” Stiles gasps as Derek nails his prostate making his back arch and toes curl. He dives back in for another kiss, though, looping his arms around Derek’s neck to draw him in closer as he eagerly presses into Derek’s mouth.
“Shit,” Derek says, suddenly jerking back from the kiss. For a moment, Stiles stiffens, wondering if they’ve actually been caught. “We only have ten minutes left before – ”
“Then get to work,” Stiles pants, thrusting himself down even harder on Derek’s cock, pleased as he draws a startled moan from Derek.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” Derek grumbles, but he grips Stiles’ thighs tight and redoubles his efforts. Stiles has to bite his lip to keep from crying out and alerting everyone else in the building of exactly what they’re up to.
“I thought we – we agreed that my tongue – ” Stiles groans as one of Derek’s hands relinquishes his thigh and wraps around his cock instead. “ – that my tongue in your ass was going to be the death of you.”
“That’s part of you,” Derek huffs, quickly jacking Stiles off, his own thrusts starting to become a little jerky as he nears completion.
“God, Derek – ” Stiles moans, rocking up into Derek’s hand and then back down onto Derek’s cock just a few more times before coming with a groan.
Derek thrusts one, two, three times before following him over the edge.
“You’re gonna need a new shirt for your last class,” Stiles murmurs when he finally regains his brain function, staring a little blankly at where his own come is already starting to dry on the fabric of Derek’s sweater.
Derek sighs and kisses him again.
(They finish clean up approximately fifteen seconds before the first student for the next class walks into the room.)
“Do you think Professor Hale and Professor Stilinski have ever had sex in here?” Becky blurts out as she taps her pencil against the desk, waiting for everyone to trickle into the classroom.
“Dude, what the fuck,” Tyler replies, scrunching up his nose at the thought.
“No, but think about it. They could have banged over the desk you’re sitting at and you’d never know,” she says, glancing around the classroom to make sure that Professor Hale hasn’t wandered in yet. They still have a full fifteen minutes before class starts, though.
“I won’t lie and say that I’ve never thought about them doin’ the do, but not over the desk I’m fucking sitting at!” Tyler hisses, eyeing the surface of his desk dubiously.
“And anyway, don’t you think they’d be more likely to fuck in his office?” Aditi breaks in, shifting her desk around a little so she’s closer to the conversation.
“I could get a black light in here,” Mateo suggests, leaning over Becky’s shoulder.
“Ew,” Becky says, gagging slightly. “Dude, that’s gross. And anyway, Professor Hale and Professor Stilinski are mature adults, not frat boys. I would think they’d know how to clean up after themselves.”
“Hey, guys are guys,” Tyler replies, shrugging.
Aditi and Becky send him identical unimpressed looks.
“I’m just sayin’,” Tyler protests, looking to Mateo for backup. Mateo just shrugs.
“Gross,” Becky repeats, shuddering slightly. “And why do you even have a black light?”
“Florescent bacteria cultures and Halloween parties,” Mateo replies easily. “Also apparently to see if my hot Professors have fucked in a classroom.”
“Let’s not,” Aditi says. “I mean, I’m fine with the abstract idea of them having classroom sex, but not, you know, over my desk.”
“Hey, front row seat, right?” Tyler counters, leering. Aditi rolls her eyes at him, but her cheeks turn a little pink.
“No use if you’re going to sit there after all the action,” Mateo snorts. “Seriously, though, man. Stop talking about our hot profs fucking or things are gonna start to get awkward.”
“C’mon, dude. We’ve been in this class for nearly a full semester,” Tyler replies, thumping Mateo on the back. “You’ve gotta be pretty good at concealing a boner by now. I mean, watching them argue is like watching the intro to really high class porn.”
“How would you know?” Becky snorts.
“Fine. It’s what I imagine high class porn – ” Tyler sighs, but he’s cut off by someone clearing their throat, loudly and pointedly.
“Mr. Lancing, if you’d like to discuss porn, I’d suggest you sign up for Ms. Reyes’ Sexuality and Society course instead,” Professor Hale says as he walks up to the front of the classroom. “Everyone else can hand in their essay on Cat’s Cradle instead.”
Mateo leans over and whispers, “I’ll bring the black light.”