Random One Shots

Random one shots with actors, musicians/bands and characters.

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76. Richard Armitage 13 Part 2

~Sighing with annoyance, Lexy slammed her text book shut. It was three in the afternoon the following day and her mind was racing. Focus, she grimaced, thumbing through the pages for the John Keats poem she was outlining. It dawned on her a few times that she wasn’t certain what she’d actually do with a degree in English once she actually graduated. You can always teach, she thought, and made a gagging noise.
Begrudgingly, she headed towards Professor Armitage’s office. She had checked earlier to make sure he wasn’t lecturing that afternoon, allowing herself some much needed time to compose her thoughts. Did she really want to sleep with her professor for a better mark? She snorted, no, I want to sleep with him because he’s visually intoxicating. Unlike yesterday, her ensemble was less casual, the elastic band of the high waisted skater skirt digging into her ribs, the white cami tucked in purposely coming undone for a more effortless look. Her honey blonde hair swished around her in waves she worked on for an hour, achieving the ‘I didn’t try’ look, but actually trying really hard. The click-clack of her flip flops echoed through the empty halls, I can’t believe I have summer courses.
Knocking on the heavy wooden door, his voice floated through the room, permitting her entrance. He was seated at a thick wooden desk, mahogany to be exact. The afternoon sunlight fluttering through closed shades, no lights flickering about besides the lamp to his right. He cast a quick look at her, metal framed spectacles perched on his perfectly pointed nose, black hair casually roused. He smiled slightly, the pen in his hand going still.
"Miss Price," he greeted, watching her shut the door behind her, "you’re early."
“For once,” she shrugged, dropping her caramel satchel on the floor, “I was in the library studying until I couldn’t handle anymore John Keats.”
“Reading ahead,” he nodded towards the worn leather couch.
Carefully, she sat back, legs crossed right over left, “there was only so much Marie de France I could stomach.”
He smiled, focusing on the paper in front of him once more. She watched him carefully, noting his smart apparel. Navy trousers that clung to his thighs, a crisp white button down undone at the top and rolled to the elbows Her stomach flopped, a deep feeling of arousal settling in the pit of her stomach. No man possibly looks that good at 42, she sighed, readjusting her skirt as she willed away the pressure between her legs.
"Why English?" He asked, still focused on his paper.
“Because my parents didn’t understand Art History,” she shrugged.
“And you do?” He almost teased, dripping the pen and pushing his chair back.
“Better than I understand Medieval Romance,” she smiled, watching him as he crossed the room.
He nodded, “cheeky. Stand.”
Willingly, she stood before him, her heart racing as he closed the distance between them. He circled her slowly, eyes roaming her body. He’d done this before, affairs with his students. None as eager or as unknowing as Lexy Price, but all in the same, he would think. He admired her for the confidence in her actions; opinionated and aloof at the same time. She was attractive, visually satisfying for someone of such young age. Did he ever feel like he used his position to his benefit? No. Propositioning your professor doesn’t guarantee a passing mark. Nothing does.
"What are you thinking about?" She asked, a bored tone hinting in her voice.
He grinned, twiddling a piece of her hair between his index and thumb, “do you think it would be fair if I passed you strictly based on your sexual knowledge?”
She laughed slightly, fanning away his fingers from her hair, “my sexual knowledge is much broader than my knowledge in mandatory courses.”
"And to think," he started, standing behind her, "I almost wouldn’t have the pleasure of your acquaintance if it weren’t mandatory," he huskily continued in her ear, his fingers slowly sliding down the silver zipper to her skirt.
She shivered slightly as the cool air hit her exposed legs, her skirt settling at her ankles, spilled about the office floor. Her camisole ended above her belly button, leaving her plain red cotton hiphuggers exposed. Broad hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face him, his grip strong and warm at the same time. Her gaze was glued to his face, his crystal blue eyes traveling the curves of her exposed flesh; thin waist, wide hips, and thighs that he wouldn’t mind wrapped around his head.
"I know that face," she said quietly, a smug look spread across her plush lips.
"What face?" He questioned, one long finger tracing the dangling pendant from her belly button.
"That’s the face I make when you give a lecture and all I can think of is what you’d look like naked," her casualty was almost frightening.
He laughed, a deep noise that rumbled in his chest and escaped his thin lips, “you’re very good at this, you know.”
"At what?"
"Seduction," he replied, thumbing the hem of her top.
"Do you feel seduced?" She hoped he wasn’t teasing her.
He grinned, all teeth and pink lips, before he pulled her top over her head, letting it fall to the floor beside her discarded and forgotten skirt. To his surprise, she had worn a bra as well. Satin and red, with a bow at the center. His finger traced the space between her breast, lingering above the tiny accent before sliding down her stomach, soft and tanned, and settling on her hip. His free hand drew up her back, his fingers deftly working the hooks to the fabric separating him from the peaks he had nearly dreamed about the night before. His jaw clenched as the soft material slid down her toned arms, falling to the floor between them.
"Are you just going to stare?" She asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.
He licked his lips, turning away momentarily, before handing her a worn book, “page 183, recite it for me.”
"What?" She almost spat, "Is this a joke?"
He sat down on the leather couch, his arousal tugging at the material of her trousers. With his legs spread in front of him, he watched her as she stood in her spot, dumbstruck and almost irritated by him. The grin never leaving his face, he drummed his long fingers on his muscular thigh, hinting impatience. She rolled her eyes, flipping through the pages and sighing in frustration.
"Unfelt, unheard, unseen, I’ve left my little queen," she started, glancing up at him, "her languid arms in silver slumber lying. Ah, through their nestling touch, who," she paused, her eyes watching his, "who could tell how much there is for madness, cruel, or complying?"
"A little more enthusiasm," he said quietly.
"Those faery lids how sleek, those lips how moist, they speak," she sighed, watching as his chest rose and fell, his eyes drinking in the sight of her, "in ripest quiet, shadows of sweet sounds into my fancy’s ear," taking a step closer, he sat up, "melting a burden dear, how love doth know no fulness, and no bounds."
She put the tattered book down beside him, standing between his spread legs. He watched her languid movements, the way her hair fell about her tanned skin as she propped a leg on either side of him, settling on his lap. She hummed contently as she slowly worked the buttons of his shirt, looking at him through fluttered lashes.

"True, tender monitors I bend unto your laws," she spoke from memory, her voice soft as she pushed the shirt off his shoulders, her cool fingers coming in contact with his warm skin, "the sweetest day for dalliance was born," she murmured, rocking her hips against his, her lips leaving kisses down his neck and across his chest, "so, without more ado," she continued, manicured fingers unclasping his trousers, "I’ll feel my heaven anew," she tried hiding the grin that caught her lips, the feel of him between her legs slowly starting to drive her wild, "for all the blushing of the hasty morn," she whispered against his lips, the tip of her nose brushing his face.
Wordlessly, his arms circled her waist, pushing her bare chest flush against his. She gasped in surprise, his lips capturing hers in a fervent kiss; all lips and tongue and teeth. The grip on her hips was strong, holding her in place as she rocked against his erection, eliciting a groan from the back of his throat.
His fingers pressed into the flesh of her bum, sliding beneath the barely there material of her panties and earning a thrust of his hips. She pulled away momentarily, gasping for air as his teeth attacked the smooth column of her throat, biting and sucking and driving her mad.
"I thought you said you weren’t familiar with mandatory courses," he rasped in her ear, setting her back on the cold leather couch.
"I said I was studying beforehand," she answered breathlessly, pawing at his trousers and pants.
He shook his head in delight, pinning her arms above her head as he set to worshiping her body, one ample breast at a time. She arched against his mouth, his teeth grazing the hardened peaks of her breast, the rosy skin contrasting with the flush of her tanned flesh. Her body frantically moved beneath his, yearning for some form of friction. Who knew reciting poetry could be so arousing? Biting a nipple between his teeth lightly, she yelped, a mix of arousal and discomfort, her hands fighting his grip.
"Please," she urged, one free hand pushing at his shoulder, "we can play later."
"Didn’t realize you want to graduate with honors," he teased, watching her as she handlessly shimmed out of her panties
"Who said," she sighed, his lips leaving wet kisses down her inner thighs, "this was just about graduating?"
He laughed, shaking his head as he stood to remove his trousers. She watched him, body bare propped up on her elbows; lips swollen from kissing, skin flushed from arousal. He may have done this before but she was intoxicating, addicting, almost. Her grin faltered when the tent in his pants was released; holy crap. He chuckled at her expression, silencing her worries with a searing kiss that nearly knocked the wind out of her. The way he stood before her, digging in his pocket for the plastic wrapper somehow turned her on. This hunk of a man, professor, stood before her, naked, like many of my daydreams, waiting to do what she’d till now imagined really only happened in the movies.
He sat back, watching her as she got to her knees, situating a leg on either side of him once more, slowly lowering herself on to his glorious length, hands on his shoulders. Perfectly manicured nails dug into his pale skin, eyes closed, lips parted, and head thrown back as she fully took him within her, sighing with pleasure as she slowly rocked on his lap. His jaw was clenched, brows knitted, watching her every expression; the way her chest slowly rose and fell as she moved up and down, creating a rhythm that suited her perfectly. His fingers gripped the supple flesh of her thighs, meeting her thrusts with his own, his breathing speeding up.
"Relax," she murmured in his ear, arms wrapping around his neck as she kissed down his neck, their thrusts going from slow to fast, fast to slow, skin clapping against skin. He groaned into her hair, almost inaudibly, as his body relaxed beneath hers, his thrusts coming harder, faster, slamming her hips down onto his in frantic need. She moaned loudly, her lips finding his and swallowing her noise. A hand on the back of her neck held her lips in place, his grip gentle yet possessive, demanding yet lenient. Tugging the blonde strands just hard enough to cause her to shiver in delight, he exposed her neck to his lips, kissing his way down her chest, across her lush breast, goosebumps on her thighs rising with every bite.
"Professor," she moaned, "I - I,"
"Richard," he corrected her, his voice coarse.
“Richard,” she almost purred, the twinkle in her eyes obvious, “Make me come,” she enunciated.
"Anything for you, Miss Price," he replied, biting down on her nipple once more.
"Le - Lexy."
He grinned wickedly, his hands back to gripping her hips, slamming her down faster, harder, erratically, until he had her nearly screaming his name. Her orgasm engulfed her quickly and all at once, the length of him still hitting that sweet spot as she came undone in his grip. Her body stilling, bliss flowing through every pore of her body as she came, his name escaping her breathless lips over and over. He followed behind her after a few more fitful thrusts, the quiet moaning of her name escaping his mouth ringing in her ears as she slowly came down from her high. His head was thrown back against the now sticking leather couch, his lips parted, slow pants escaping his throat. She laughed breathlessly, their pants coming in sync, her head on his shoulder as his grip loosened, drawing random patterns into her sweat slicked skin.
Best summer course ever, she snickered quietly, feeling him relax.

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