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a-dorin · 4 years

Text

tempestuous | darth maul

word count: 5.043k

warnings: nsfw, 18+, professor/student relationship, sexual tension, smut, nudity, sexual innuendos, dominance kink, age gap, cursing

a/n: hello everyone! due to the response i received, this is the second chapter in the professor!maul au! i am so happy with the overwhelming comments of kindness. you guys rock :’) thank you for keeping me sane during quarantine. as always, the first chapter is linked below. enjoy :))

ardor

summary: weeks have flown by, and you find yourself under immense amounts of pressures with midterm quickly approaching. not only are you stressed with the academics, but you can’t seem to shake a certain professor out of your head.

“(y/n), did you have rough night?” barriss chuckled, handing ahsoka an iced coffee before sliding into her own spot, “here, i got you a little pick-me-up.”

wrapping your hand around the cup, you swirled your straw around, “thank you, barriss. i guess i’m just a little stressed out with midterms approaching.”

“a little?” ahsoka giggled, covering her mouth, “(y/n), we love you, but you look like you’ve been hit by a truck. is everything okay?”

you rubbed your temple, a dull aching seeping into your skull, “i’ve been pulling some all nighters lately.”

“well if you ever want to study for with us, you’re always welcome,” barriss’ blue depths shone, her lips curved into an encouraging smile, “ahsoka and i are a little nervous about the midterm as well, especially for this class. professor maul hasn’t given us any sort of notion on what the exam may be.”

“i hope it’s something simple,” you grumbled, taking a sip of the matcha latte, “again, thank you for the matcha, barriss. i appreciate it.”

barriss laid a gentle hand on your shoulder, “anything for you, (y/n). after all, you’re our new best friend.”

“she’s very right,” ahsoka shot you a wink, prodding you with her elbow, “you should come to the library with us tomorrow night! i know, it’s lame, but it’s pretty empty on the weekend. we have a good chance at snagging one of those study rooms. and if we get our homework done friday, we can always meet up before that party saturday night!”

“you guys party?” you arched a curious brow.

barriss and ahsoka rolled their eyes simultaneously, the togruta letting out a huff, “we know how to have fun too, (y/n). after all, they say that the bookworms know how to let loose.”

“whatever,” you couldn’t help but laugh, pulling out your laptop.

it was now about halfway through the semester, with midterms approaching on the horizon. the looming fact that you had about five exams, along with working extra hours with your internship, were beginning to take their toll on you. the internship at the hospital was running smoothly, and you were performing so well that you were offered extra hours. of course, you couldn’t help but accept the offer.

yet, it came with a cost. although it was only two nights a week, they asked if you could stay a few hours later than normal. so, every tuesday and wednesday, you strolled into your apartment well past one in the morning.

rex helped in every way he possibly could. whether it was cooking you dinner, making you coffee, tending to your laundry, as well as keeping the apartment tidy, he was adamant about making things easier for you. which, you greatly appreciated. there were even times he charged your laptop and made runs to the printer. last night was one of those nights where you didn’t get back till late, so to say you were exhausted was an understatement.

although it was your first class of the day, and 9:56 a.m., sleep still hung heavy in your mind. the comfy clothes hanging on your frame weren’t much help either, the coziness of the fabric lulling you to sleep. a university of coruscant hoodie, a few sizes too big, was almost like a blanket. and the grey sweats were comforting. shaking your head, you attempted to focus.

the class fell silent as he entered the room, causing you to perk up in your seat. today, he was clad in a pair of black slacks, the color of his button up and blazer corresponding with his pants. his shoes were freshly polished, glossy in the sterile light. the monochromatic outfit brought out the color of his crimson skin, his amber orbs nearly glowing. as usual, the silver chain hung from his neck, this time, settled on bare skin, as a button or two was left undone.

you nearly choked on your matcha, as you drank in the sight of him. maker, was he gorgeous. mind buzzing, you mustered all of your strength to not admire for a moment too long. it was already embarrassing enough the sheer amount of instances you saw him on campus.

now that you were enrolled in his class, you saw him everywhere. whether it was grabbing a meal to-go in the dining hall, bumping into him at the gym, or mumbling a greeting as you passed him in the halls of the psychology wing. it was odd, yet you paid no mind. a part of you yearned to see him, to just admire his features.

professor maul didn’t seem to mind the encounters either. every time, he would chirp a greeting, his tone smooth and cordial. even though he was formal, you couldn’t help but notice a gleam in the golden pools as he spoke. it was almost as if his eyes were roaming your body, glittering with lust.

just the mere thought of his lips on yours sent a faint blush painted across your cheeks. shifting in your seat, the realization that class began washed over you. letting out a quiet sigh, you typed notes as he spoke, his voice clear, thick with authority as it rang through the lecture hall.

“now,” he cleared his throat, backtracking to the pedestal to the left of the space, “i compiled a list of terms and parameters of your midterm exam.”

groans of frustration erupted like a volcano, maul’s eyes blazing with amusement, “may i discuss the exam with you first or are you all going to complain?”

“i hate him,” ahsoka muttered under her breath.

“you don’t mean that,” you whispered, teasing, “what if the exam is a breeze?”

“the midterm will be no walk in the park,” maul announced, gathering a thick stack of papers in his hands.

your eyes wandered to his hands, and how they sprawled over the stack with ease, how they were would fit so well over your breasts. a shiver ran down your spine as you pondered of his hands all over your body, relishing every inch of your skin. his voice snapped you out of your fantasy, his gaze settling on you, a smirk creeping onto his lips.

“for the exam, i ask that you research an individual or authoritative figure who is a ‘monster’ in our society. once you conduct your research, you will give me a brief presentation. the presentation will be done orally, through a video format. the deadline is printed on the assignment sheet. there are no exceptions, so plan accordingly.”

biting your lip, your cheeks reddened under the eye contact. however, his attention was taken away from you, eyes flickering towards a student near the top of the lecture hall.

“does this mean we can talk about president palpatine? he’s a tyrant!”

“i can’t believe he almost banned the frats!” another complaint rose from a classmate.

“if that’s who you would like to report on,” a bubbly, lighthearted laugh escaped his lips, the sound flowing like sweet honey into your ears, “you might have your work cut out for you. that is my boss after all, so i am not sure how biased i can be.”

the rest of the class droned on, ahsoka and barriss lost in their note-taking, their stares fixed to their laptop screens. meanwhile, you found yourself getting lost, daydreaming. maker, did you ache to experience just one kiss. to trace the tattoos all over his chest and shoulders as you unbuttoned the article of clothing. gnawing on your cheek, shame burned through you as you realized that you were beginning to feel a sensation in your core. the mere thought of maul had your folds slick, wet and desperate for him.

soon, class was over, students herded to the doors. you followed ahsoka and barriss, conversing about tomorrow’s plans. you were anticipating the study session tomorrow, as you needed it.

after all, you weren’t paying much attention in class these days.

*******

“so, are we wrapped up for the night?” ahsoka yawned, her eyes bleary with sleep.

a rumble in the distance shook the library, a thunderstorm wreaking its havoc over coruscant. you, barriss, and ahsoka were finishing up, the building nearing closing time. it was 10:32 p.m., the three of you hunkering down in a study room for the past two and a half hours. however, the session was helpful, the three of you passing notes, sharing what you did and didn’t have. you were all caught up, thanks to them.

“i believe so,” barriss nodded, shoving a notebook into her bag, “(y/n), would you like us to walk with you to your apartment? we can share an umbrella and give you one.”

“i’ll be fine,” you shrugged, glancing at your phone, “i think i might wait out the storm for a few more minutes. besides, my roommate has a girl over. i don’t want to impose on them.”

“you sure?” concern flashed across ahsoka’s face, “it’s not a problem to us.”

“you guys can go,” you teased, winking, “i can handle myself. besides, there’s no one in here besides the twi’lek at the front desk.”

“whatever you say,” barriss huffed, adjusting her hijab, “see you tomorrow!”

“see ya,” you waved to the two girls as they left the room, “text me when you guys want to meet up!”

“we will,” ahsoka called, giving you one last grin before they disappeared from your field of vision.

exhaling, you rose to your feet, slinging your bag over your shoulder. strolling out of the study room, the lights of the library were dimmed, a few students lingering, milling around the front desk or nose deep in textbooks, scrambling to finish their work.

eventually, you made your way to the lobby, leaning against the brick wall. rex promised that he would text you when his friend was on her way, yet there were no message on your screen. no missed calls. nothing. frustration welled up inside of you, creeping into your thoughts. surely the girl wasn’t staying the night. rex didn’t mention anything about it to you earlier.

“hey there,” an all too familiar voice rumbled, “do you need a lift?”

turning ever so slightly, your eyes widened at the figure before you. maul stood in the doorway, donned in a pair of grey joggers, a university hoodie on his top half. the hoodie was black, which was a prominent color in the zabrak’s wardrobe. you picked up on that the third day of class. his brows were furrowed, lips pursed. it was almost as if he was concerned.

“i’m fine,” you muttered, “just waiting on my roommate to give me the all clear.”

“i remember those days,” maul mused, “savage used to have all sorts of women over when we rented an apartment together for grad school. it was downright horrid.”

“i bet,” you sucked in a breath, anxiety swirling as you read the time once more. it was 10:48 now, more and more students filing out of the exit.

“you all right?” he inquired, his voice low, “if your apartment isn’t too far from here, i can give you a ride. it’s storming pretty bad out there.”

“isn’t that illegal?” you snorted, a glimmer of hope rising as rex’s called id lit up your phone, “hang on, i gotta take this.”

“heyyyy,” immediately, you sensed that rex was walking on eggshells, “do you have a place to stay for the night?”

“rex, i thought we talked about this.”

“well,” he mumbled, “she wants to stay the night. i’ll do all of your laundry tomorrow if you say yes.”

“rex this isn’t the right time to bargain with me,�� tears brimmed your eyes as the horror crept in. you had nowhere to go.

“please?” his voice was sickeningly sweet, “pretty please?”

“fine,” you caved, “i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“thank you-” rex began, but you hung up before he got the chance to finish.

storming out of the library, tears streamed down your cheeks, mixing effortlessly with the icy rain as it cascaded down, piercing through your clothes. you sobbed, your cries deafened by the thunder. maker, you were so furious. how could rex do that to you? especially so last minute? the only place you could go was your car, and you didn’t even have a fresh change of clothes.

“(y/n),” through the roar of the thunder, you heard his voice.

“oh great!” sobs racked your body, “now i have to deal with you too-”

his hands grasped your cheeks, pulling you in. lips collided with yours, his touch warm, as you crumpled completely. fingers tangled into your wet locks, desperate to bring you closer to him, to feel your lips mold so effortlessly with his. the kiss was fiery, burning with a passion. a desire for you. it was exhilarating, intoxicating, your mind buzzing, losing any sort of coherent thought as the rain pounded against the cement, lightning illuminating your surroundings.

“now,” he pulled away, leaving you breathless, “do you need a ride?”

“i don’t have anywhere to go,” you could barely string the words together.

“you’re welcome to stay at my place.”

“are you sure?” you wiped your tears, yet the effort was fruitless. your clothes were soaked, you were chilled to the bone.

“yes,” he took your hands, “come on, let’s get out of here.”

“what if someone sees us?” anxiety bubbled within you.

“my hood is up,” he began to make his way towards the parking lot, clicking a button on his car keys, “besides, i’m wearing black and so are you.”

“i guess you’re right,” you muttered, a shiver rippling through your being.

as he approached the vehicle, he opened the passenger door for you as the rain pattered against the pavement. slipping off his sweatshirt, he shoved it into your hands, “here, put this on.”

“i-i’m not wearing a shirt underneath,” the words were a stutter.

“and i’m not fifteen,” maul scoffed, ducking so that he could slide into the driver’s seat, “you’re going to get sick out here and mine is somewhat dryer than yours.”

hesitantly, you made your way into the passenger seat, your eyes widening as you noticed the interior, “this is a tesla.”

in the darkness, you picked out the brightness of his grin, his incisors flashed, poking against his lips, “indeed. my apartment isn’t too far from here. i need to let savage know that we’re no longer having drunkfest.”

“drunkfest?” you couldn’t help but giggle.

“drunkfest,” maul affirmed, his thumbs dancing across his phone, “we get absolutely wasted every friday night to forget about the awful moments of the work week.”

“interesting,” you settled into maul’s hoodie, grateful for the slightly drier fabric. his scent flooded your nostrils. it was a strong scent, with traces of leatherwood, spices, and bergamot. it was heavenly, with just the right amount of cologne.

“it is interesting,” his eyes focused on the road, the lights of the city whirring by as he drove, “even though i’ve gotten completely trashed every single time, i can’t seem to shake you off my mind.”

blush flooded your cheeks, your breath hitching in your throat, “i see.”

within minutes, maul pulled into a parking garage, turning off the engine. he helped out of the passenger seat, “let me carry your bookbag for you. the textbooks probably need to sit out for a few hours. i’m sure you don’t want to pay for new ones.”

“i don’t,” you sucked in a breath.

the zabrak slung your bag over his shoulder with ease, locking the car behind you. the two of you entered the elevator on the level, and maul pushed his desired designation. a wave of silence crashed over you, but it wasn’t unnerving. it was more relaxed, maul humming a tune as the elevator whirred.

eventually, you were standing outside his door, the zabrak shoving the key into the lock. pushing the door open, you couldn’t help but marvel at the decor, furniture, as well as the viewports. the apartment was luxurious, screaming wealth. yet, maul remained humble, not uttering a single word.

the floor was a flint concrete, glossed over with a polish. in the den, there was a massive patterned rug, intricate patterns of black, white, and crimson woven together. the couch was a sectional, a dark grey. the shelving and tables were black, paired with subtle hints of scarlet or grey decor. there wasn’t much wall decor, besides some vintage posters from the old days of coruscant. framed photos of zabraki were scattered, and you inferred that they were feral and savage, maul’s younger brothers.

“there’s a hall leading to the refresher. it’s on your right, i’m going to set out your books to dry. before you shower, leave your clothes in a pile by the door. i’ll throw them in the wash for you. and if i pop in, don’t scream. i’m going to lend you some of my clothes,” the zabrak murmured, “take your time in the shower. i don’t want you getting sick.”

“what if i need help getting the right water temperature?” you arched a brow.

his eyes narrowed, gleaming, “i think you’ll be fine, princess. call me if you need anything.”

your cheeks reddened, “okay. i’ll be in the shower.”

maul mumbled something incoherent, and you wandered through the den, discovering the hall that he mentioned. once you found the refresher, you peeled the damp clothing off your body, grateful that there was a towel hanging outside the shower. exhaling, you tossed your clothes outside the door, turning on the water. after adjusting the temperature to your liking, you stood underneath the stream, grateful for the warmth as it seeped into your skin.

the shower was just as elegant as the apartment, with glass doors and a steel shower head in the shape of a square. it was far better than the shower in your own apartment, as you didn’t have to worry about wasting hot water or any spiders. steam billowed into the space, hugging the doors of the shower, droplets of water condensing on the glass.

“i’m coming in to drop off some clothes,” the zabrak’s voice entered the room, “holy fuck do you always have the water this hot?”

“do you not?” you chuckled.

“it feels like a sauna in here,” he chuckled, teasing, “anyways, i’ll leave you be.”

letting out a content sigh, you turned the water off once he left. opening the door, your eyes scanned the space for the light switch. after a few seconds, you found it, flipping on the vent. hopefully that would help with the amount of steam that clung to every single item in the refresher.

on the counter, there was a black turtleneck, along with a pair of briefs. patting yourself dry, you slipped on the briefs first, then slid the turtleneck over your head. it was getting late, the clock on the counter reading 11:36 p.m. yawning, you pushed open the door, padding into the hall.

maul was nowhere to be found, a frown forming on your lips. where could he had run off to? surely he would’ve mentioned something to you. yet, your curiosity crept in, urging you to explore. holding your breath, you noticed a door, inferring that it was maul’s bedroom.

the door creaked as you tapped it, the draft pulling it open. inside, the floor was the same as it was, a king-sized bed in the middle, pushed against the wall, supported by a black wooden bed frame. there was a dresser, along with a walk-in closet. the most breathtaking aspect were the viewports, acting as a wall. the lights of coruscant glowed, the room overlooking the city. rain flowed down the viewports as thunder rumbled. you felt drawn to them, awestruck by the beauty of the sprawling city.

“you like the view?” your heart nearly leapt out of your chest.

“don’t scare me like that!” you pouted, folding your arms across your chest.

“don’t go snooping around,” maul smirked, matching your energy.

your heart thudded as his eyes drank in the sight of you, in his turtleneck. the sweater was a little large, hanging loosely in some areas. the briefs hugged your thighs, leaving nothing to the imagination. your nipples poked through the fabric of the sweater, the cool air sending a shiver running down your spine.

“gods,” he breathed, licking his lips, “i-i don’t know what to say.”

“i’m sorry for wandering off,” you mumbled, your cheeks hot as shame burned through you, “i didn’t mean to-”

“just stop,” maul shook his head, taking a step towards you, “just fucking stop. you have no need to apologize.”

the air in room crackled like the lightning outside as he took another step forward, an old t-shirt clinging to his torso, the same pair of grey joggers hanging loosely on his hips. your throat tightened as you noticed the way his chest rose and fell, the zabrak’s breathing ragged.

“it seems as if i can’t shake you off my mind,” he panted as the space between you dissolved, “lately, all of my thoughts have revolved about you.”

“what do you think about?” you swallowed thickly.

“do you want the hear the answer?” his face was merely centimeters away from yours, “or would you rather experience it?”

“i want both.”

his hand reached out, gently grasping your jaw. the touch was light, feathery as his fingers traced your heated skin. you melted, nearly collapsing to the floor.

the zabrak’s eyes glowed, the amber now hardened into a deep honey hue, almost a chestnut brown, “can i kiss you?”

you nodded, almost a little too quickly, “yes.”

a low, guttural growl dripped from his lips, “i couldn’t resist you before. but fuck as soon as i saw you in my clothes, i just can’t fucking take it any longer.”

the kiss was hungry, an open-mouth, lustful kiss. his lips crashed into yours, yearning to explore the taste of your mouth. the zabrak’s hands laced into your hair, tugging at the roots, gripping tightly. a whine echoed through the room as he sucked on your bottom lip, his tongue delving into your mouth. a hand slid down, resting on the nape of your neck, holding you steady as the kisses grew hungrier and hungrier.

“get on the bed,” he commanded, his tone thick with authority, a hand untangling itself from your hair and tugging on the hem of the turtleneck, “and take this off.”

the way the words rolled of his tongue struck you to your core, your folds growing slick as the anticipation grew. fingers wrapping around the hem, you tugged it off, your breasts bouncing. the zabrak practically groaned as he admired your exposed body, a hand palming his cock as it hardened, the outline prominent in the light.

obeying his order, you laid on the bed, your back hitting the soft comforter. maul slipped off the t-shirt, almost pouncing on top of you. pinning you down, his mouth connected with your neck, trailing sloppy kisses down, onto your collarbone.

“if only i could leave my mark on you,” his breath was hot, coming out in pants, “i would paint you like a canvas.”

“you can,” the words were a broken moan as his tongue dragged across your collarbone.

“oh?” you could feel his lip curved into a smile, “you want me to?”

“ye-” the reply was shortened as maul’s lips wrapped around nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive area.

his tongue drifted from your nipple to your flesh, nipping and sucking, a satisfied purr erupting from the zabrak as a rich burgundy mark appeared, “i hope you’re aware that you’re the most beautiful woman i have ever met.”

“i don’t think so.”

within seconds, his mouth was hovering over the waistband of the briefs, “you better fucking believe you are, (y/n).”

“i- oh my god,” the tearing of fabric rang off the walls as maul ripped the briefs off your frame.

“usually i take my time with this,” maul murmured, his gaze burning with lust, “but fuck i need you. i need to feel you take my cock.”

“please,” you whimpered, squirming as he parted your thighs.

“holy fuck. how are you so fucking wet? you’re soaking and i haven’t even touched you.”

the zabrak was appalled, a flash of awe painted across features as he took in the sight of your dripping core, your pussy aching. desire burned through your being, threatening to consume you whole. maker, you never knew you wanted someone this badly. exhilaration rushed through you with every touch, his fingers slipping between your folds.

“i’ve thought about you like this,” maul was enticed, almost in a trace as your juices coated his fingers, “i’ve thought about the way your body would be underneath mine, your eyes begging for me to fuck you till you can’t take it anymore.”

“i’ve thought about you in class.”

“in class?” his voice faltered, “(y/n), that’s sinful.”

“it’s not as sinful as how i’ve wanted you to fuck me for weeks,” your cheeks were flushed,.

“oh gods,” maul groaned as a finger entered you, “i’m going to make you mine.”

“please,” your hips bucked forward, his finger plunging further into you, “i want to be yours.”

“you’re going to be mine princess,” he purred, “i promise i’ll give you what you’ve been yearning for.”

hastily, the zabrak tugged his sweats off, kicking them to the floor. your nearly choked on your spit when his member sprang free from the constraint of the fabric. his cock was massive, the largest you had ever seen. yet, it wasn’t too large that you couldn’t take it. crimson and black patterns wove all around it, his shaft ribbed, precum dribbling down his length.

“tell me how much you need me,” his voice shifted from a coo to a growl as fingers wrapped around your throat, “tell me how badly you need professor maul to fuck you senseless.”

“i need you to fuck me,” the words were a broken whine.

“louder,” his grip tightened, “say it louder. i need to hear you.”

“i need professor maul to fuck me,” the words were enough to bring the zabrak to the edge, to make him unfold.

“good girl,” his tone oozed with praise, low and husky.

he lined his tip at your entrance, slowly inserting himself into you. maul’s hand loosened from your throat, gripping the headboard for leverage. your moans were breathy, laced with bliss as your walls expanded, wrapping around his cock.

“that’s such a good fucking girl,” maul leaned in, nipping at your ear, “you take my cock.”

the zabrak thrust into you, his tip brushing against your g-spot. throwing your head against the pillow, your body almost went limp, collapsing. the pleasure was overwhelming, burning through you like a fire. but maker, did you want more. you needed more.

maul watched as he fucked you, one hand steady on the headboard, the other on the mattress, gripping the sheets. he was plowing into you now, showing no mercy. the moans bouncing off the walls were rich and so loud, fueling his desire to keep going. the zabrak lost all inhibitions minutes ago, his thoughts blurred, eyes glossed over.

the way you felt was heavenly, every single thrust euphoric.

maker, was he losing control.

tightening his grip on the headboard, his knuckles were almost white. he was completely feral, unhinged, detached.

a horrid cracking filled the zabrak’s ears, and he glanced up towards the headboard. the wood split into two, a lengthy, crack down the middle, stemming from his hand.

“oh shit,” you gasped.

“look what you made me do, angel,” a smirk stretched across his lips, “you’re going to fucking pay for that.”

your nails dug into his shoulder blades as he slammed into you, balls slapping against skin. his cock throbbed, swelling. with every throb, your walls tightened, the pleasure building in your belly. eyes squeezing shut, you felt every inch of him buried in your soaking pussy, balls deep in you now.

“maul,” the zabrak nearly unfolded right there, “i’m going to cum.”

“let go baby,” his lips brushed against yours, “you can cum. cum for me.”

the orgasm racked your body, maul’s mouth connected with yours, the moans muffled. your thighs trembled, stars bursting in your vision, the pleasure almost blinding.

with no strength left, your body went limp, collapsing into the mattress.

his thrusts were more languid, sloppy with every stroke. maul came moments later, filling you up with it all.

“fuck,” he cursed under his breath, a sheen of sweat clinging to his body, “are you all right?”

“i’m fine,” your inner thighs buzzed, soreness creeping into the muscle.

every inch of skin the zabrak touched tingled, as if your body was savoring the memory.

maul cleared his throat, his cock still inside of you, “i kinda lost control.”

“kinda?”

“a little bit,” he chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead, “it’s been so long since i’ve last had sex. it doesn’t help that i’m in heat, either.”

“you’re in heat?” you pressed, brows furrowing.

“perhaps,” the color of his eyes returned to their normal hue, amber flowing into crimson, “let’s get you cleaned up. it’s late.”

“is it past the professor’s bedtime?” your tone was snarky.

“don’t tempt me to fuck you again. because we both know damn well that i will.”

glancing up, you noticed the broken headboard, “how much is that going to cost?”

the zabrak let out a huff as his cock slid out of you, drenched with a mixture of juices, “i don’t know. it’s the least of my concerns at the moment. stay here, and don’t move a muscle.”

swinging his legs over the mattress, maul strolled towards the refresher, retrieving a rag to clean up the mess that you made. you sunk into the bed, questions ringing through your mind.

yet, you couldn’t help but notice a prominent feature. in the light, the tattooed skin glowed. but there was something different about the way his thighs transitioned from flesh to an ashen metal.

maul’s legs were cybernetic.

and your curiosity about the zabrak, your professor, skyrocketed.

***

tagged: @sapphicstars , @maulieber , @starflyer-104 , @alwayshappysith , @doobiwankenooku , @magicalkitkat12 , @dartheldur , @princessayveke , @multifandombtch , @spaghetti-666 , @lis-ard , @swimmingsloths , @sithmando , @mother-0f-monsters

#darth maul #darth maul x reader #star wars #star wars x reader #maul #maul x reader #professor #au #darth maul smut #darth maul fluff

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h-sleepingirl · 5 years

Text

On Double Binds (A Hypnokinky Article by sleepingirl)

Many are familiar with the concept of “double binds” either inside or outside of the hypnosis world – even if not by name. There is the well-known example of something like, “Would you like to do this now, or later?” which highlights one aspect of double binds – creating the illusion of choice between two options while underplaying any others. However, as we’ll explore, double binds and binds in general are both more complex and more broad than is described by a “this or that” sentence.

In this essay, we’ll aim to explore double binds in depth – including their origins, the various perspectives on their applications, and examples of how to be versatile with them – to further our use of them as hypnokinksters. Let’s explore.

Who?

Within the framework of hypnosis, language, NLP, and other fields, there is a fascinating amount of overlap, not only in content, but in the key players involved therein. It is ideal to discuss these topics with the context of who was involved and what the cultural climate was surrounding them instead of in a vacuum.

Gregory Bateson was the first person to introduce the idea of a double bind while investigating language and communication in patients with schizophrenia. (He did this along with colleagues such as Jay Haley, author of “Uncommon Therapy”, an oft-cited book analyzing the techniques of Milton Erickson.) What they theorized in their paper, “Toward a Theory of Schizophrenia” (1956) was that schizophrenic individuals have a difficult time discerning choice both inside and outside of situations involving double binds, and that double binds occur frequently in the family environment of a schizophrenic patient, potentially contributing to the development of the disorder. Also in the paper was extensive discussion of the “ingredients” of double binds, according to the authors – including conversation of Erickson’s therapeutic use of them, how people tend to respond in various scenarios, and the framework of communication that they fit into.

Bateson is one of these “key players” in the “canon” of the body of hypnosis knowledge. He wrote the introduction to “The Structure of Magic, Vol. I: A Book About Language and Therapy” (1975) – the very first book that Richard Bandler and John Grinder put out in their soon-to-be extensive series on Neuro-Linguistic Programming. In fact, looking back to the origins of NLP and where it first began formulating at University of California, Santa Cruz, Bateson was a professor who had close contact with Bandler – an eager student interested in Gestalt therapy – and Grinder – the professor specializing in linguistics. Both of them drew upon Bateson’s body of work when formulating the beginnings of NLP, and Bateson ended up being the person who introduced the two of them to Erickson.

While NLP is a goldmine of history and good referential leads, it has an unfortunate (and ironic) habit of distorting the information and terms that it borrows. “NLP double binds,” for example, differ from “Bateson double binds,” and in the hypnokink world we take blindly from both sources. It’s prudent for us to strive to understand some about NLP to glean information on where many of our hypnotic habits come from, and it does provide a valuable context of how to analyze them, including in this case with binds.

NLP

NLP – especially early NLP – has an interesting method of breaking down chunks of “flawed” communication and acknowledging both how they can negatively impact someone and how they can be used to the operator’s advantage in inducing trance or change. The former is called the “Meta model” and lists various therapeutic challenges to problematic thought patterns. For example, someone might say, “My partner doesn’t care about me,” and NLP says to ask, “How do you know that? What have they done to show that?” to recover the “missing information,” which is referred to as “Deletion” in the Meta model. On the flipside, the “Milton model” (referring to THAT Milton) says that you can use Deletions to your advantage – for example, saying, “You can feel it much stronger now, can’t you?” where both the object of the sentence, “it,” and the comparison word, “stronger,” are left purposefully vague and without index to allow the subject to fill in the blanks themselves.

This is a very simplified and incomplete discussion of both the Meta and Milton models, but the key here is to understand double binds in a similar fashion – from one perspective, they are a hindrance and can be challenged, and from another, they can be utilized purposefully to obtain results. Some descriptions of NLP include binds as part of these models, while others break binds down into the simple communication chunks given by the Meta and Milton models.

Ingredients of Double Binds

To fully be able to utilize double binds, we must move past the model of them as simple “this or that” phrases. Let’s discuss them broadly to understand how they apply in both everyday situations as well as hypnotically. We will compare and contrast “Bateson double binds” with “NLP double binds”.

According to Bateson, double binds:

Require two or more people, one of whom is being acted upon by the other(s) who somehow have influence, authority, or superiority over the subject

A classic example is parent to child, but even child to parent is possible if the parent feels like they do not have control or authority over the situation

Often give a not-unfamiliar experience of being stuck in a dilemma, especially in the case of them being problematic

Bateson places high value on the idea that in the context of someone’s life, the double bind is not a single experience and thus can’t be resolved as such; the person experiences the feeling of being stuck as patterns or habits

Have a “primary injunction”: they create a sense that there is a “right” thing to do, and if the subject doesn’t perform, they will be “punished” (whether verbally, by withdrawal of attention, cultural stigma, etc)

This is often cited as having two possibilities: “Don’t do this, or I’ll punish you” and “If you don’t do this, I’ll punish you” – perhaps an example might be a boss telling an employee that they need to finish a project by the end of the day; the punishment if they don’t is implied

Have a “secondary” and sometimes “tertiary injunction”: conflicting with the initial message, they create a sense that even if they fulfil the original requirements of the situation, there is no way to do it that doesn’t also fail some other aspect of it

Continuing the above example, the boss gives the employee extra work and expresses something like, “This isn’t punishment, it’s acknowledgment of your skill” – the employee may be overworked, but the only way to avoid more work is to go against the initial premise of, “Do the work or you will be punished”

May exist outside the scope of these clear guidelines if the subject often feels like their world is full of double binds and “no-win” scenarios

Bateson describes part of this in terms of the relationship between people – there is an “important” relationship that the subject doesn’t want to jeopardize and simultaneously feels unable to communicate on the paradoxical or uncomfortable nature of the situation or messages

May differ from the exact feeling of being “stuck between a rock and a hard place” in that the subject may have difficulty discerning the nature of the bind or what is preventing them from acting

For example, in a situation where there is an unspoken rule not to question a parent, and the child witnesses a parent doing something wrong, the child may feel paralyzed but not understand why

Certainly, Bateson’s focus is on double binds that impede the individual in some way, and this description of binds might be new to those of us that only are familiar with binds from a hypnotic level. In Bateson’s binds, as well, the entire scenario and environment that exists is a large focus to how the bind works – circumstantial double binds, or double binds where the “injunctions” (conflicts) are entirely nonverbal.

But Bateson does, in the original paper, talk about double binds in a therapeutic context, in fact referencing Milton Erickson and hypnosis. Here is an excerpt:

Another Erickson experiment (12) seems to isolate a double bind communicational sequence without the specific use of hypnosis. Erickson arranged a seminar so as to have a young chain smoker sit next to him and to be without cigarettes; other participants were briefed on what to do. All was ordered so that Erickson repeatedly turned to offer the young man a cigarette but was always interrupted by a question from someone so that he turned away “inadvertently” withdrawing the cigarettes from the young man’s reach. Later another participant asked this young man if he had received the cigarette from Dr. Erickson. He replied, “What cigarette?”, showed clearly that he had forgotten the whole sequence, and even refused a cigarette offered by another member, saying that he was too interested in the seminar discussion to smoke. This young man seems to us to be in an experimental situation paralleling the schizophrenic’s double bind situation with mother: An important relationship, contradictory messages (here of giving and taking away), and comment blocked–because there was a seminar going on, and anyway it was all “inadvertent.” And note the similar outcome: Amnesia for the double bind sequence and reversal from “He doesn’t give” to “I don’t want.”

The situation in this case is considered by Bateson and colleagues to be a double bind, as the necessary ingredients are present and the scenario itself creates the bind. There is another interesting comment as well, that the “amnesia” is a somewhat expected response. What Bateson is referring to here is the way that people may deal with feeling bound – not necessarily literal loss of memory, but change in perception of the event. The subject of a double bind is often mentally struggling to parse the situation, which may manifest in a variety of different ways, depending on their perspective and how aware they are of all of the aspects of the bind. The specific feeling of being trapped seems to be the hallmark of binds, in Bateson’s theory – that is what he and his colleagues were studying.

Bateson says this is a non-hypnotic example, but it is interesting to think about whether Erickson would agree with that assessment, or if we as hypnokinksters would, considering our broad perspective on mind play in general. We only have Bateson’s account here, but perhaps it is worth investigating about what it means to feel “stuck” in a situation that is hard to discern, rolling something over in one’s mind, changing focus between internal and external – all very hypnotic patterns. But while this is something we’ll explore more in depth, this is not really the kind of double bind we’re familiar with from the hypnosis world – so let’s dive into where that version of them really comes from: NLP.

According to NLP, double binds:

Are often a question, using the word “or”

“Are you ready to go deeper, or are you ready for something more intense?”

Offer a real or perceived choice between two options while explicitly downplaying or not mentioning any others

“Would you like to talk about this now, or after dinner?” – no choice offered to not have the conversation, or have it on a later day

Have potential to be rejected if they are not true binds

The subject may see other options and choose to circumvent the original offer – in the previous example, “Can it wait until tomorrow?”

Often are meant to facilitate one outcome chosen by the operator, even though the subject is apparently given a choice

“Do you want a quick trance or a long trance?” – the outcome is that trance is going to happen in both cases

Can be “unconscious” or ambiguous – framed in such a way that the answer to the question is not truly consciously answerable

“I wonder if your feet will go into trance before your head, or vice versa…” – this can be emphasized by changing the perspective of the sentence, “I” vs “you”, “I wonder…” vs “Do you think…”, or other verbal markers such as “Who knows if…”

Often are composed with other aspects of the Milton model

“You’ll be a great subject if you listen really carefully, or if you let my suggestions float in unnoticed…” – the use of “if/then” is indicative of causal thinking, which is a standard part of the Milton model, also presuppositions

Here we see the common habit of NLP in its natural environment: the “borrowing” of a term and concept well-established in psychology, and distorting it. Sometimes this sort-of-infamous NLP distortion renders the result useless, but there are certainly cases (such as this one) where the theory and practice that comes of it is worth thinking about, understanding, and finding ways to use. This is the “double bind” that most of us are familiar with – a single expression ranging from simple to complex which attempts to garner one outcome through the false offering of choice. We know now that this is very distinct from Bateson’s binds, in many ways, with a notable exception in that both Bateson and NLP reference Milton Erickson as being masterful with them. We will compare, contrast, and attempt to reconcile the two, but first let’s talk a little more about NLP binds in hypnosis.

The term “double bind” seems to beg the question, “Are there other forms of binds?” The answer is yes. The classic example, “Would you like to go into trance now, or later?” is a double bind. If we remove one of the options, we’re left with, “Would you like to go into trance now?” This is a theoretical “single” bind, because upon the subject responding positively, they’ve “bound” themselves to a course of action or thought. Oftentimes, binds overlap with other NLP artifacts, such as being part of a “yes set” or being part of Milton model language patterns. For example, “Do you think that going deeper into trance like you are right now means that I’m weakening your will?” binds a “yes” response to the cause/effect of them subjectively feeling more submissive or controlled by you. Of course, we can add options as well, and come up with a “triple” or “quadruple” bind – “Would you like to go into trance now, or later, or would you like me to choose?”

NLP binds are about having a general goal in mind and being able to break it down into multiple scenarios to offer which lead to that goal. If the goal is to get someone to go into trance, you can think about the various aspects of that situation – what position they can be in (“Would you prefer going deep sitting up or laying down?”), when it’s going to happen (“…immediately or in a moment?”), parts of their body (“…eyes open or closed?”, “…hands in your lap or hanging down?”), what else is involved (“…staring at a watch or a spiral?”), how they are feeling (“…excited or pleasantly nervous?”, “…aroused or too deep to be turned on?”), what they are thinking about (“…focused on my voice or my eyes?”, “…listening harder with your left ear or your right ear?”), and many, many other options that have to do with all of the different variables. This could be about the environment, who is involved, what you’re doing, and much more.

Compare, Contrast, Reconcile (Applications)

In this section, we’ll take what we’ve learned about these two distinct types of binds and see where they are similar, where they differ, and where they can be spliced.

Choice and/or No Choice

One of the major differences between these two forms of double binds is that in Bateson’s, the sense of being trapped is important to the bind itself, while NLP seems to emphasize an aspect of sneakiness – you don’t necessarily want the subject to know there are other options, if there are any, and the goal is for the subject to feel like they are making a choice themselves. But an NLP bind can also be a Bateson bind, for example, in a situation where a hypnotist asks a subject, “Are you ready for me to fuck up your mind, now, or do you need a break?” and the subject blushingly responds that now is good, but the hypnotist does not immediately signal to them that they are doing hypnosis. The subject is left unsure – is hypnosis happening, or not? Likely they don’t want to ask to clarify or push. This leads to a variety of possible responses – perhaps the feeling of hypnosis becomes ambiguous, and the act of the subject continuously checking internally and wondering if trance has happened becomes hypnotic. The sneaky hypnotist can take advantage of this.

This feeling of being trapped in paradox is evident in the reverse of this as well – the common trope of the hypnotist saying, “Don’t go into trance…” while swinging a pocketwatch or otherwise signalling trance. The subject is unsure how to respond. In hypnokink, there should never be risk of real punishment or disappointment from a dilemma like this, so it is more of a playful version of Bateson’s bind than a true version of one, but it is one that we can explore. Any situation where you create incongruent messages and expectations fits – trying to get a bimbo to act smart, a scenario where the subject is told not to orgasm but it’s unclear what the “punishment” would be for disobeying, telling someone that it’s dangerous to brainwash themselves but rewarding each step in that direction.

You can conceptualize it like this: A Bateson bind is a scenario where there is no perceived correct response, and an NLP bind is a scenario where all perceived responses are correct. Once we understand the usefulness of both, we can freely intermingle and make decisions about which to choose.

Implications

Another place that we can marry the two effectively is taking into account Bateson’s focus on the personal history, environment, and mindset of the subject as essential to a double bind. In many of his examples, the bind comes partially as a product of these things – in a scenario of a potentially unhealthy relationship, one partner may express to the other, “If you loved me, I wouldn’t have to ask you to do this.” This is a classic Bateson double bind – the partner clearly must do the thing they are being asked to do, but by doing so, they fulfil the conditions that the first partner laid out as meaning that they don’t love them. Perhaps, in this case, there is a history of the first partner asking for certain things to be done – they themselves are in a pattern where they expect the second partner to never follow through, thus never giving them a chance to “prove them wrong.” This unspoken part of the bind that exists – as well as any others, such as the theoretical second partner’s childhood being filled with nagging parents – is just as important as the verbal construction of the bind.

We can apply this knowledge to the NLP double bind by reducing the verbal aspects of binds, and leave them implied. For example, in the case of two partners on a video call together with limited time, the hypnotist may allude to the fact that they are going to do trance (“Well, gotta fuck your shit up at some point…”) which leaves the subject to wonder when it’s going to happen. (As discussed previously, not immediately acting upon the statement or changing the subject away from trance can create the Bateson bind.) The hypnotist may ask, “How badly do you want it?” which presupposes that there is a desire as well as urgency. The “hidden” option is the response of “I don’t want it,” which is not explicitly downplayed, but considering the context (unless the subject is going for bratty) the answer will usually be somewhere on the scale from “kinda badly” to “really badly.” In general, we should strive to be aware of our partners’ thought patterns and personal history in order to better utilize it, as well as striving to be able to create patter that doesn’t sound like it came out of an NLP manual.

The Hypnokink Bind

There is a sort of third perspective on double binds here – the perspective of us as erotic hypnotists, where we almost expect our partners to understand when we are binding them, because that’s part of the fun. Not every hypnokinky subject at every time will key into when a bind is happening, but many will recognize the classic NLP pattern, and this is something we need to keep in mind as hypnotists. Often, we’re able to tell by their response, whether it’s a knowing smile or a furrowing brow. The bind in this case becomes fully voluntary – it is no less of a “bind,” but we should examine our motivations for using them and how we can adapt to a situation where a bind is fully informed and consented to, even appreciated.

In the case of a subject who knows the bind is happening, perhaps one option is to bind even more fully – in “The Brainwashing Book,” we talked about the idea of “traps” and how we can make our suggestions and language encompassing in a way that there is no available “failure” response. Continuing the example, instead of simply saying, “Would you like to go into trance now, or later?” we could say something like, “Do you think your desire to go into trance affects whether you notice it happening immediately, or in a little while, or even if it slips past your awareness?” A few things are at play here. There is a meta-question about the real question – a “yes” or “no” response to whether they think their desire matters doesn’t affect the presupposition that trance is going to happen. In fact, this presupposition isn’t challenged even by the subject wondering about noticing or not noticing anymore. Whichever response they have – feeling trance now, feeling trance later, or not feeling trance at all – is covered by the original question. There may even be some confusion and struggling to parse, which fits inside the Bateson bind: Stuck between various options, especially for someone who is trying to analyze, not sure if there is a “right” answer, and the feeling that they’re unable to properly challenge it as it happens.

Depending on the situation – if this is a verbal back-and-forth, or if the subject is not verbally responsive in trance – there are options to continue the bind as suggestive patter (“…And I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I enjoy wondering about it, and maybe you’d like to enjoy wondering with me, going back and forth with just easy curiosity about how you will respond to trance this time and how your internal thoughts affect it…”) or even to bind further, adding in more restrictions and “steering” the subject how you’d like them to go (“…You should decide: Is it important to you to consider this, or is it something that you can just let go of?”).

Collapsing the Bind

There is a final aspect to binds that we must consider as something useful – what happens if or when the bind is released? In the case of the subject being unsure if they are supposed to be in trance or not, the clarity of the hypnotist explicitly releasing the bind is something that we universally know is freeing. Think about similar examples in hypnosis – “confusion” or “overload” inductions such as the 7+/-2 are popular and effective because of the contrast between the subject’s mind racing and the sudden, clear instruction.

Similarly, this applies to both NLP binds and Bateson binds. In a Bateson bind, it’s especially clear; the paralysis and paradox is the nature of the bind. In NLP, we have to analyze the situation a little more. When giving options, such as, “Do you think you’ll be completely mindless, or keep enough of yourself to watch your own brain fade away?” we can think about how to create a sense of punctuation or closure with it. It is perfectly fine as-is, but it allows us a choice to move from ambiguous to clear. This could certainly be as simple as saying, “I think you’ll go back and forth, feeling your own consciousness slip through your fingers…”, which shifts focus from the subject wondering internally to the clear thoughts of the hypnotist. It breaks the bind, not necessarily by choosing one option or the other (although that is certainly an option) but by building upon it while moving to a space where the hypnotist calls the shots.

The other aspect to this is about timing. In “The Brainwashing Book”, we talk about the format of a scene as a series of peaks and valleys, and the motivation of us as intimate partners to seek climactic moments and be aware of the flow of play. Collapsing a bind can certainly be a climactic moment such as this – it can be the induction of trance, the change between focal points, the gaining of permission for something, or more. We should always be attentive of how to build tension and enjoyment, looking for these peaks and valleys in the body language and verbal language of our partners. If we see our partner struggling with paradox, for example, unsure of whether or not they are in trance, we can purposefully add to it (perhaps by goading, “Are you, or aren’t you? Hmm?”) and watch carefully – does their breathing change, is there a moment where they look like they may crack? Perhaps one option to build and peak is by snapping your fingers to bring them out, so they have an intense moment of, “Oh, I must have been – and oh, I wish I still was –” and then almost immediately dropping them back down.

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In Conclusion

I hope you enjoyed this writing – it is good as a standalone but there is so much more to say as all of these topics are so entwined. This particular article will likely be adapted into a couple chapters for my next book, which will be on NLP for hypnokinksters, so please consider this a sneak peek into that project – speaking of which, if you liked this and haven’t checked out “The Brainwashing Book,” I encourage you to see for yourself!

The other reason for me writing this is to show what I can put out in terms of shortish-form educational content. I am looking into making more writings like this in a scheduled, monetized format like Patreon – they take a lot of time and effort (probably about 12 hours here of writing, organizing, research, etc!) and I believe that I have a LOT to offer in terms of knowledge to share, especially intermediate or advanced material like this.

It is possible-to-likely that I will have to shift my focus for a little while off of my current job because of COVID-19, so I want to get this started early! If this was interesting or enjoyable to you, please share it, and let me know if these articles are something you’d find worth paying a few bucks for per month (while having input to the topics I write about), or purchasing them at a small cost one-by-one, or something else.

If you REALLY REALLY like this RIGHT NOW and you want to tip, here you go: https://ko-fi.com/sleepingirl

Thanks so much!

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Bibliography:

Bandler, R., & Grinder, J. (1975). The Structure of Magic I: A Book About Language and Therapy. Palo Alto, CA: Science and Behavior Books.

Bateson, G., Jackson, D. D., Haley, J., & Weakland, J. (1956). Toward a Theory of Schizophrenia. Personality and Social Systems., 172–187. doi: 10.1037/11302-016

Jones, A. (2008, October 7). Binds, Double Binds and Unconscious Double Binds – Part One. Retrieved from http://communicatingexcellence.com/binds-double-binds-and-unconscious-double-binds-part-one/

Lankton, S. R., & Lankton, C. H. (2014). The Answer Within: A Clinical Framework of Ericksonian Hypnotherapy. Routledge.

Roffman, A. E. (2008). Men are Grass: Bateson, Erickson, Utilization and Metaphor. American Journal of Clinical Hypnosis, 50(3). doi: 10.1080/00029157.2008.10401627

sleepingirl. (2019). The Brainwashing Book: Hypnotic, Erotic Behaviorism and Beyond. Kindle Direct Publishing.

Yudkowsky, B. (2016, May 17). Beware the Bind. Retrieved from http://agentyduck.blogspot.com/2016/05/beware-bind.html

#hypnosis #hypnokink #my writing #i worked really hard on this and am very proud for how it came out in such a short time!#please read it!#please boost!#please let me know if this is something you want to see more of!#and also if you'd be willing to throw a few bucks at it :)

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judgestarling · 5 years

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The Origin of the Term “Junk DNA”: A Historical Whodunnit (Second Edition)

As textbooks would have it, the term “junk DNA” was coined in 1972 by Susumu Ohno as part of his work on the role of gene and genome duplication. I met Susumu Ohno at a meeting in Crete many years ago, and the way I remember, he told me that he “deliberately” chose a “provocative term” to emphasize the “uselessness” of this DNA fraction. (Indeed, the term “junk” comes with a “semantic baggage” since it used as a synonym for heroin and male genitalia—two terms that are verboten in polite company.) At a dinner, Ohno also told me (and other newbies) that rosé wine is produced by mixing red and white wines.

I no longer believe either of these historical “narratives.”

It all started with my obsession to read very thoroughly every article that I quote, instead of relying on indirect references. In this day and age, in which articles are signed by hundreds of authors, the vast majority of whom don’t even bother to read their “own” publications, I stand out like a nigella seed in mayonnaise. This disorder is probably due to my association with Mina Graur, who is a historian who only trusts “primary sources.” Indeed, so strong is her belief in primary sources, that I am quite certain she wouldn’t even trust a textbook description of the double helix—she would want to read Watson and Crick’s (1953) article, as well as their notebooks, correspondences, and preliminary drafts, and if possible interview each and every one associated with the lab in Cambridge including the janitors. What can I say? She does NOT trust “secondary” sources!

For a few years, I engaged in a bitter fight with the quacks of the ENCODE Project over “junk DNA,” and to my dismay, I realized that I cannot find a copy of Susumu Ohno’s (1972) article “So much ‘junk’ DNA in our genome.” So, I started searching the net for the article. My searches led me to discover three publications from 1972 that mention “junk DNA.” The above-mentioned paper by Susumu Ohno, an article by David Comings, and a New Scientist commentary by Tim Hunt.

Solving the origin of Comings’ “junk DNA” was easy. He got it from Susumu Ohno, who was his colleague at City of Hope National Medical Center in Duarte, California. Indeed, Comings quotes two “in press” papers by Ohno. The most interesting thing about Comings’ article, however, is that his treatment of junk DNA is much more thorough and much more informative and much more considerate than Ohno’s cryptic article, in which the term “junk” is only mentioned in the title.

The origin of Tim Hunt’s “junk DNA” proved to be much more interesting. In 1972, the future Nobelist was a 29-year-old researcher at Cambridge trying to understand messenger RNA and the great amounts of DNA that never produce mRNA. In time, his research led him into a different area of study, and in 2001, Tim Hunt shared the Nobel Prize in Physiology and Medicine with Paul Nurse and Leland Hartwell. The work for which he was conferred the highest accolade in the sciences had nothing to do with either mRNA or junk DNA—the Nobel was in recognition of his discovery of proteins that control cell division.

In his 1972 commentary, Tim Hunt uses the term “junk DNA” to refer to “the large amount of nucleic acid that never finds its way out of the nucleus, which does not fit in with the old categories of genes and messages.” Note that Hunt’s 1972 “junk DNA” employs a mechanistic definition of junk DNA that is different from but not at odds with our current understanding of junk DNA as “useless and harmless.”

Where did Tim Hunt get the term? I sent him the following email.

“I have recently realized that although the late Susumu Ohno is credited solely with the coinage ‘junk DNA,’ he was not the only person to have used the term in 1972. In your ‘How mammals get the message’ in New Scientist, you have an entire section entitled ‘Why all that junk?’ In this section you mention “junk DNA.” I am curious whether (1) you got the term from Susumu Ohno, (2) he got it from you, (3) you coined it independently, or (4) you got it from a third person. I would greatly appreciate your help with this historical puzzle.”

The reply by Dr. Hunt was surprising.

“Gosh, yes! I did write that piece, and I never met Ohno. I got it from Sydney Brenner and/or Francis Crick—it was certainly current in Cambridge at the time. Maybe they got it from Ohno? You should ask Sydney.”

So, I wrote Dr. Brenner. The first sentence of his reply made the puzzle even more profound.

“I can confirm that we were using the idea of “junk” in the genome in the sixties at Cambridge.”

Really? The sixties? If the term was indeed current in the sixties, it is entirely possible that the term may have found its way into the literature and hasn’t been detected thus far. If it was there, I was determined to find it.

Enter Google Ngram, with which one can find short phrases in over 5.2 million books (published between 1500 and 2008) that have been digitized by Google.

With Google Ngram, I struck gold, a 1963 paper by Charles Ehret and Gérard de Haller entitled “Origin, development, and maturation of organelles and organelle systems of the cell surface in Paramecium.” The paper which was published in Journal of Ultrastructure Research is huge—42 pages and 86 figures. On page 39 it is written:

“While current evidence makes plausible the idea that all genetic material is DNA (with the possible exception of RNA viruses), it does not follow that all DNA is competent genetic material (viz. ‘junk’ DNA), nor that all Feulgen-positive material is active DNA.”

This was completely unexpected. Nine years before Susumu Ohno, two authors wrote about “junk DNA” in a casual manner without even bothering to explain what junk DNA is. If we assume that non-”competent genetic material” is the same as nonfunctional DNA, then their use of “junk DNA” was entirely modern. The problem was that I have never heard of the authors before. Who was Charles F. Ehret? Who was Gérard de Haller?

A little more digging revealed that Charles F. Ehret was a very important person, as evidenced by the fact that The Washington Post published an obituary on his death in 2007.

“Charles F. Ehret, 83, a scientist whose study of circadian rhythms led to a widely popular anti-jet lag regimen that improved the trips of untold numbers of world travelers, died February 24 of multiple illnesses at his home in Grayslake, Ill.

In more than 35 years of experimentation, Dr. Ehret found that the headaches, nausea, disorientation, fatigue, and malaise suffered by globe-trotters had almost nothing to do with thin air and the dizzying effects of supersonic speed, as was commonly assumed. Rather, jet lag is a matter of crossing too many time zones too quickly for the body to adjust. It can be ameliorated by adjusting eating, activity and sleep schedules according to a strict system that Dr. Ehret developed.”

A search of the literature revealed that the paper in Journal of Ultrastructure Research represented quite a detour in the scientific life of Dr. Ehret. With the exception of a 1948 paper in The Anatomical Record, entitled “The mating reaction of multimicronuclear monstrosities in Paramecium bursaria,” his entire research program dealt with circadian rhythms, jet lag, and light exposure.

Interestingly, Dr. Ehret worked on many different organisms which, according to The Washington Post, included “single-celled organisms, rats, his eight children, and volunteers.” Rats and eight children? That sounds like a winning combination!

The amount of information I could find on Gérard de Haller was quite minimal. He became Professor of Protistology at the University of Geneva in 1969. He mostly published in French, and the last known address for him was the Molecular Systematics Group at the University of Geneva. As far as I could ascertain, he published his last paper in 1993. In October, 2013, I wrote to the head of the Molecular Systematics Group, Jan Wojciech Pawlowski. He replied promptly.

“Prof. Gérard de Haller is a Honorary Professor of the University of Geneva. He was one of the jurors of my PhD thesis and the head of Protistology Laboratory since 1969. His specialty was the biology of ciliates. As far as I know he is still alive, although he is not scientifically very active since his retirement. I saw him last time about 2 years ago when he came to the University to participate in a ceremony for one of his younger assistants. He is still on the list of University Professors.

I was looking for more information about him but could not find anything more. However, I can easily find someone from his family who live in Geneva if this is necessary.”

In the end, the person who managed to find Gérard de Haller was Robert Hirt, Professor of Evolutionary Parasitology at Newcastle University. In May 2014, I got an email from Prof. de Haller.

“As far as I can remember, the first time we spoke of junk DNA was at a seminar with Werner Arber around 1958 or so, and I know that Eduard Kellenberger's department, where Werner was working, was in close contact with the big bosses of the raising DNA science [at Cambridge]. Unfortunately, that’s all I can remember, except that these were great times!

I asked Werner Arber, but he couldn’t add anything. He mentioned Francis Crick as a possible "inventor" of the term.”

At this point, I was quite certain that Ehret and de Haller did not invent the term “junk DNA.” They used it properly and in the right context, but it wasn’t theirs.

I wrote about my findings in my blog, and ended the article with an appeal.

“In the manner of the appeals by Oxford English Dictionary, I would like to ask the readers: Do you have an earlier record of the term “junk DNA”? Please submit your evidence by email.”

Soon afterwards, an anonymous reader found an example of “junk DNA” from 1960.

“Following your example, I've been trying to find earlier "junk DNA" quotes using Google. I found this quote in the Year Book of the Carnegie Institution, Washington July 1, 1959- June 30, 1960 (Volume 59, page 278).

‘It is much more difficult to imagine how the different DNA’s could act as templates for the similar RNA’s. This is the problem that can be avoided most easily by considering a large part of the DNA to be junk.’”

The authors, however, did not like the concept of “junk DNA’, although they admitted that there were precedents.

“The idea that a large part of the nucleic acid is nonfunctional is repugnant. It seems unlikely that such an inefficient mechanism would have survived through evolution, although it must be remembered that enzyme molecules are very large in comparison with their active centers.”

The Carnegie Institution report was written by eight members of the Biophysics Group within the Department of Terrestrial Magnetism. Yes, “Terrestrial Magnetism”!

Several names stood out. Sadly, Richard Roberts died in 1980, Ellis Bolton in 2006, and Roy Britten in 2012. The person with which I was most familiar with was Roy Britten, who was was the discoverer of repeated DNA sequences in the genomes of eukaryotic organisms, and later studied their effects on the evolution of genomes. I have met Britten several times at scientific meetings, and if there was one thing clear, it was the fact that he was not a fan of “junk DNA.” When Roy Britten died in 2012 at the age of 92, his obituary in the journal Science was written by his close collaborator Eric Davidson.

So, I wrote to Eric Davidson, and got the following email.

“First off, I wouldn't exactly consider that citation as related to the later nonsense about junk DNA of the Leslie Orgel/Francis Crick variety. At Carnegie they were strictly concerned that year with the protein coding sequence load of the DNA, as seen through the lens of ribosome structure/function, without considering the function of mRNA and tRNA.

As for Roy, you are right, he couldn't stand the idea of junk DNA, but that was in reference to the Crick usage (which we heard about verbally all the time from him and others of his circle; in those days, late 60s and early 70s Roy and I were hotly involved in arguments about the organization of animal genomic DNA). Anyway, Roy could not possibly have been responsible for the Year Book citation you sent because that particular report concerned the year Roy wasn't even at Carnegie; he was in Denmark working on yeast. The Biophysics report then and in the succeeding few years at the Department of Terrestrial Magnetism was written by the senior people, Bolton and Roberts, I think mainly Bolton (with whom Roy did not get along particularly well in intellectual terms). Roy was then very junior in the hierarchy and he wrote his own report on that year's activity; it is very doubtful he could have inserted anything like that even ex post facto. So, I don't think it is a likely hypothesis that Roy originated that term in any way shape form or manner, then or later.”

Is it possible that Davidson was wrong and one of the authors of the Carnegie report did coin the term “junk DNA” as a pejorative? One such precedent comes to mind. In 1955, British cosmologist Fred Hoyle derided a theory by American physicist George Gamow and called it a ridiculous "Big Bang." The name stuck. As far as “junk DNA” is concerned, however, there is little evidence for the pejorative-nickname hypothesis.

Why did the Biophysics group at the Department of Terrestrial Magnetism at Carnegie found the concept of “junk DNA” to be repugnant in 1959? The historical context was explained to me by Alexander Palazzo from the University of Toronto.

“To understand this report, you need to remember that it was written two years before the discovery of mRNA. Back then it was believed that each gene made a separate RNA that got incorporated into a ribosome (i.e., ribosomal RNA). Thus, according to this model, each ribosome contained information within it to make a single protein. Of course, today we understand that ribosomes are only enzymes, and that the protein-information is contained in mRNA. But considering that >90% of cellular RNA is rRNA, their old faulty model is understandable.

The Roberts’ group was analyzing the length of E. coli rRNA. In the discussion they write about the size of proteins and note that some of these are very small. In contrast, there was too much rRNA in each ribosome. This discrepancy indicated that in these cases the additional RNA was likely non-functional. Interestingly, Roberts missed a critical fact that was pointed out by others—that rRNA was not large enough to code for certain large proteins (beta-galactosidase, for example).

Roberts' group also noted that all rRNAs looked the same, whereas the nucleotide composition of DNA varied considerably. Thus, some DNA must not code for ribosomal RNA and this is where they invoke the idea of junk DNA.

Note that a new form of RNA (messenger RNA) was recognized in a landmark paper by Brenner, François Jacob and Matthew Meselson in 1961 making this whole discussion moot. (And yes, I'm aware that James Watson's group also demonstrated the existence of mRNA…)”

How should I summarize my current understanding on the origin of “junk DNA”—the term and the concept?

First, there is evidence that the term “junk DNA” was already in use in the early 1960s (e.g., Aronson et al. 1960; Ehret and de Haller 1963). I am, however, almost certain that none of these authors coined the term. All clues point to Cambridge in the late 1950s. My guess is that the term originated with Francis Crick, but at present I have no evidence for this claim.

And what about Susumu Ohno? I was reminded by a reader that “a conceptual discovery is usually ascribed to one who first stuck his/her neck out to push the viewpoint.” It doesn't really matter who said what first. “We remember Charles Darwin, not because he discovered natural selection (and sexual selection) or because he was the first to propose that adaptive evolution is due to selection. Others, e.g., William Charles Wells, Patrick Matthew, James Cowles Prichard, William Lawrence, and John Sebright, may (or may not) have recognized evolution by natural selection long before him. It was Darwin, however, who staked his reputation on what was considered at the time a grave heresy. It is, of course, interesting that Hunt, Brenner, De Haller, Roberts and perhaps others toyed explicitly with the idea of "junk DNA" before 1972, not to mention others who may have entertained the same idea without calling it "junk." However, it was Susumu Ohno who stuck his neck out and put his reputation on the line by advocating a very unpopular and contentious idea.

In my latest book, I decided on the following phrasing:

“We have written evidence that the term “junk DNA” was already in use in the early 1960s (e.g., Aronson et al. 1960; Ehret and de Haller 1963); however, it was Susumu Ohno (1972, 1973) who formalized its meaning and provided an evolutionary rationale for its existence.”

Literature

Aronson AI, Bolton ET, Britten RJ, Cowie DB, Duerksen JD, McCarthy BJ, McQuillen K, Roberts RB. 1960. Biophysics. pp. 229–289. In: Year Book: Carnegie Institution of Washington. Volume 59. Lord Baltimore Press, Baltimore, MD.

Comings DE. 1972. The structure and function of chromatin. Adv. Hum. Genet. 3:237–431.

Ehret CF, G. Haller G. 1963. Origin, development and maturation of organelles and organelle systems of the cell surface in Paramecium. J. Ultrastruct. Res. 23:S1–S42.

Hunt T. 1972. How mammals get the message. New Scientist 18 May:373–375.

Ohno S. 1972. So much “junk” DNA in our genome. In: Smith HH (ed.) Evolution of Genetic Systems: Brookhaven Symposia in Biology. Gordon and Breach, New York. 23:366–370. Ohno, S. 1973. Evolutional reason for having so much junk DNA. In: Pfeiffer RA (ed.) Modern Aspects of Cytogenetics: Constitutive Heterochromatin in Man. Schattauer Verlag, Stuttgart, Germany. pp. 169–180.

Watson JD, Crick F.HC. 1953. Molecular structure of nucleic acids: A structure for deoxyribose nucleic acid. Nature 171:737–738.

19 notes · View notes

sinsiriuslyemo · 7 years

Text

EPISODE 10

“Okay so where is the meeting?” you asked as you paced back and forth, looking through your new California home. You’d been here three days and Omar had touched base with the art collector going by the alias Mary Cassatt. The house Nevada had rented for the two of you was roomy, light streaming in from every window. The rest of the team had the neighboring house.

“Oye, relax a little bit, will you?” Nevada said from the couch, looking at his watch before looking back up at you. “We’re meeting at her office. Still under construction though, so I guess technically, we’re meeting at a construction sight. You okay? Want me to eat you out? Calm you down a little?” he asked.

You shake your head, “I need to get into...character.” You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to breathe as you focused on reciting your persona. “I can do this, I was in drama. Okay I'm gonna get dressed.”

You moved to the bedroom and opened the closet. You'd had it fully stocked with clothing your character would wear. You tugged on your camel suede bodysuit pairing it with the camel colored jacket and a gold belt, then letting your hair fall down instead of keeping it in a ponytail like usual. You paired the outfit with matching thigh high boots and plum lipstick, eyeliner wing sharp enough to slit a man's throat. You looked at yourself in the mirror.

“Camilla,” you whispered to your reflection. “Dama didn't come to California, Camilla did.”

When you came back out into the living room, you slid your sunglasses on your nose and nodded to him. “Alright, let's go,” you said nervously.

“Coño,” he drawled, looking you up and down, moving toward you to slide his hands over your hips. “Camilla, you’re making me wanna forget I’m married,” he purred, pulling you against him.

You spun, grabbing his hand and moving it off you, getting in his face and leaning in.“If you want me to sell this, don't distract me.” It was clear you were nervous, practically trembling.

“You’ll be fine,” he said softly, cupping your face and touching his forehead to yours. “I got you Camilla,” he whispered. “You’re the best in the world. Remember that.”

You leaned in and gave him a soft kiss before you nodded. “Let's go,” you whispered.

Rafael opened the door of their condo, moving quickly to shuffle their baggage inside before turning to scoop Roxie up like a new bride and smiling when she let out a giggle. Carrying her over the threshold, he kicked the door closed behind him.

“Welcome home, Mrs Barba,” he mumbled, kissing her lips before he set her down on her feet again.

She smiled and squealed as the piglet trotted towards her, picking him up in her arms. “Hello my love, we missed you so much,” she kissed his snout and laughed as she held the piglet out to Rafael, who took him immediately.

“Izzy! You home?” he called out as they walked further into their condo, scratching behind the piglet’s ear.

“I'm here,” she called out and smiled, “hey, I was actually just getting the rest of my things,” she gestured to the luggage in her hands.

“How’s Lila doing?” he asked her setting the piglet down as Roxie came to stand beside him. They were both incredibly tanned from the vacation.

“She's adjusting pretty well, we're actually moving her into sober living housing for a while to give her some extra support.” Izzy smiled before looking down at her phone and sighing. “Fuck, Eddie…” she mumbled to herself before looking back up. “I gotta run, I'm sorry.”

“That’s okay. How is Eddie?” Rafael asked.

Izzy sighed, “I don't know, he has a lot going on…” she mumbled with a sigh. “He's at his end, I've never seen him like this.” She moved towards the door, “I don't know how much longer he can take this before…” she trailed off and gave them both hugs. “I gotta go.”

“Alright,” Rafael mumbled, looking back at Roxie after the door closed. “I need to start looking into this professor of his,” he said with a sigh.

“Do you have to do it today?” she mumbled against his skin. “There are so many better things to be done with our first evening home.”

“I can at least get the ball rolling, but that’ll just take me a minute, and then I’m all yours,” he replied, kissing her lips. Taking out his phone, he fired off a quick group text to the squad, asking if any of them had contacts in Boston.

Carisi answered that he did, and he called the detective while Roxie took their luggage into the bedroom for unpacking later.

“Hey, I need for you to ask your contact to discreetly look into a professor at Harvard for me,” he said. “I don’t know her name, I can find out, but I do know she teaches torts and is a younger professor.”

“I can take a look into it counselor, why? Is this for a new case?” Sonny said around a bite of cannoli.

“Not exactly,” Rafael answered. “It’s a personal favor and I don’t know if anything will come of it, but...will you help me?”

“Of course, I'll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“Thanks,” Rafael replied, hanging up and looking up at Roxie as she came back into the living room. “Okay, no more phone today,” he said with a smile. “So what do you want to do first, mi amor?” he asked as she came up to sit beside him on the couch.

“I want to go to the bedroom and I want us to cuddle up with Mowgli,” she kissed him, “open a bottle of wine,” another kiss, “maybe even a little more…”

“That sound great,” he replied, humming against her mouth when she kissed him again. “Red or white?” he asked.

“Hmmm, red gets me frisky,” she winked and sauntered towards the bedroom.

Smirking, he watched her hips sway back and forth as she disappeared into the bedroom and got up to grab a bottle of merlot and the wine key from the kitchen. Picking up two wine glasses, he followed her, calling Mowgli to come along.

You were a completely different person the moment you stepped out of the car, stepping with a level of confidence Nevada had never seen from you.

Following you, he resisted the urge to smirk as he watched your ass from behind his sunglasses. Josiah and Sawyer walked behind him, and the three of them stopped when you held a hand up.

“You must be Camilla,” The woman you only knew as Mary strode out of an unfinished office, smiling warmly and extending a hand.

You nodded and took her hand, shaking it. “Mary, I must admit, I've heard nothing about you,” you say fondly.

Mary smirked, “that's how it should stay, shouldn't it?”

She eyed the people behind you. “And these are..?”

“If they were important I would have introduced them,” you say casually. “But this is Dallas, he's the only face you'll see with me.”

Nevada nodded dutifully at Mary, who arched a brow.

“And he is?”

“My right hand.” You kept your tone even, almost a bit impatient. “Shall we talk business?”

Mary smirked and nodded, “very well,” she moved to her office again, offering you a seat, not offering the same to Nevada. “That is a beautiful color on your skin, it works with your complexion.”

You smirk, “my complexion looks good on a lot of things,” you leaned forward, nodding for Nevada to sit while Sawyer and Josiah waited out front.

He moved to sit beside you, taking off his shades and pocketing them as you spoke to Mary

“You want to move a package,” you said thoughtfully. “I'm more than capable of UPS role playing with you mami, pero I'm not cheap. But I am the best and you pay for what you get.”

“Hmm,” she nodded. “And what would I be getting?”

“Me,” you purred. “I understand if it's your first time, I promise I'll treat you like una princesa. I've got the experience and know how to get you where you need, mami.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“You don't. In fact, trusting me without seeing my body of work would make you an idiot. You don't look like an idiot to me.” You licked your lips and smirked. “Dallas, be a dear and why don't you run Mary through our sampler pack. I wouldn't want you to buy the goods without tasting them first.” You winked.

Mary seemed intrigued by your offer, turning to Nevada.

“You tell us when and where to pick up the package, which should probably be somewhere far away from our hives. Me and Boss Lady pick it up no longer than an hour later. We’re off the grid till we make the drop. After the loot is secure, you’ll get a phone call. But we don’t move till we see the green. Half up front, the other half when we make delivery,” Nevada said.

“That seems a lot less intriguing coming from your lips, Dallas,” she chuckled and looked back to you. “Now tell me what makes you standout from anyone with a truck, Camilla?”

“I have a degree from Yale in art preservation, mami. Anyone with a truck will store that shit in a wooden crate and toss it in a Uhaul. I know how to keep it an even temperature, what paper to wrap it in, all my hive workers have acid-free cotton gloves for handling.”

Mary now did look rather impressed, arching a brow in interest. “I’m interested, but before I trust you with my baby, I’m going to need a sample run. Something smaller,” she replied, leaning back in her seat.

“That can be arranged,” you nodded and looked back to Nevada, “Why don't you play with your friends while the big kids talk?”

Mary smirked in satisfaction at your words as Nevada nodded his head, immediately getting up and walking out.

“He follows direction well,” Mary mused as the door closed. “I wish all men were as obedient.”

“He's a special breed,” you smirked. “He follows directions in every aspect of his duties,” you shot her a knowing look.

“I see,” she replied, crossing one leg over the other. “Is he your lover?”

“Lover insinuates something more, he's simply a means to an end. I say jump and he won't ask how high, he'll just keep hopping until I stop him,” you replied, winking.

“Your slave then?” she said, seemingly impressed with the thought. “His existence is solely to please you.”

You give a casual nod. “Slave seems like an outdated term, now we call them assistants.”

Mary chuckled, nodding. “Alright. Well, then. I’m impressed thus far. Of course, I still need to verify that you are who you say you are,” she said, standing from behind her desk.

You stood as well, holding out a hand to shake. “It was a pleasure Mary, you are a fascinating woman.”

“As are you,” she replied, shaking your hand and smiling softly. “Leave your number with my foreman. I’ll be in touch.”

You nodded and smiled before moving outside nodding for the three to follow but not before giving Nevada's ass a hard smack for show.

When you got back into the car, you had a paper bag to your face, breathing into it to calm yourself.

“Oye, you did great,” Nevada said softly.

“Dama, I don’t know what to say. You’re a natural,” Josiah chimed, smiling at you in the rearview mirror as he drove the four of you back towards the houses you'd rented.

“May I use that bag to throw up in when you’re finished?” Sawyer asked softly.

You nodded at her, eventually passing her the bag. “I think I'm gonna be sick,” you mumbled to yourself before looking at Nevada. “I need my husband.”

“I’m right here, mami. You did perfect,” he said softly as Sawyer hurled into the bag. “Calm down, you’re fine.”

You snuggled into him, nodding and pressing your face against his neck as you slowed your breathing. “Okay,” you whispered and calmed your beating heart. “We're gonna pull this off, si?”

“Yeah, we are,” he assured you, holding you tightly to him. “We’ll be fine.”

Rafael poured the last of the wine into each of their glasses, place the bottle on the night table.

“Oh come on, I think it was thoughtful,” he said with a smirk, looking over at her as he took a sip from his wine. They’d decided to open some of their wedding gifts and had just opened the one from her parents; a book entitled, How To Keep Your Husband Happy.

“Blowjobs and sandwiches,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “That has to be the only thing that book says. As if it was my job to keep you happy.” She poked him in the chest, eyes narrowed playfully. “Make yourself happy, I'm not here to bring joy to your life, I'm here to bring joy to mine.”

“Ouch,” he replied, putting a hand to his chest. “Well, it’s not as though I haven’t had to keep myself happy before,” he added, the wine making his lips a little looser than normal.

“Oh?” She quirked a brow and started nibbling along his jaw. “What did you do?”

“Took care of myself in the shower when you were withholding sex before the wedding,” he answered. “Nothing too special,” he added.

“Hmmm, how did you do it?” she whispered. “Where did you touch first?”

“Well it was just me and my right hand, mi amor. Preludes weren’t exactly necessary,” he replied, taking another small sip before he set his glass down. “I just wrapped my hand around myself and started stroking. There isn’t much of a science to it.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed, laying back on the bed. “Right, you win. Nothing sexy about it.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” he replied with a smirk.

She reached for the next present, if was from Izzy and Lila, quirking a brow and smiling. “Huh, I didn't think they'd get us anything.”

“Why not? She’s my sister,” he replied, furrowing his brows.

“I figured she'd have her hands full with Lila,” she said honestly and opened it, breaking into a grin. She pulled out a glass and a napkin, both with the logo of the hotel where they'd first met. “This is so lovely.”

“I wonder how she managed that,” he replied, writing down the gift next to Izzy and Lila’s name on the pad where they’d been keeping track of who got them what. “You were the most beautiful barmaid I’d ever seen,” he cooed, peppering kisses against her neck.

She smiled and couldn't help but laugh. “There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that this is stolen.”

“But it was for love, mi amor,” he replied against her skin, biting her earlobe gently.

She quirked a brow. “I was just trying to have sex with you and you brushed off my advances, now you want to do it?” she teased.

“You were? You were not, you asked me about…” He thought for a moment, inhaling as he nodded his head. “Oh…well, you should’ve been more clear. I thought you were asking me about how I masturbated.”

She snorted a laugh and shook her head. “No, no, you lost your chance at sloppy drunken sex Mr. Barba,” she playfully pushed him back.

“Oh you’re terrible,” he replied half-heartedly. “Alright, next.”

She opened the next present. “From my sister, she bought us...oh these are hand cuffs.” She cringed. “I hate that, I hate this, ew! No, as far as my sister is concerned, I'm a pure snow virgin.”

Rafael’s phone buzzed but he ignored it, setting the notepad aside and taking the cuffs from her as he moved to place a knee on either side of her legs.

“I don’t know they might come in handy some time,” he purred suggestively, leaning towards her for a kiss.

“I'm not using cuffs from my sister, get some from Olivia,” she said seriously.

His phone buzzed again and she frowned. Groaning, he picked it up, moving off of her.

“I’m busy,” he said.

“Not too busy for this,” Olivia said flatly. “I just got a call that both your nephew and your sister are in a holding cell in the 19th precinct. We can keep them overnight there if you want,” Liv offered.

“That depends, what are the charges?” he asked.

“They're being held on drunken disorderly, although your sister is sober, looks like she just got caught up in the mix.”

“Then yes,” Rafael replied. “I’ll come get them in the morning.”

“Will do, have a good evening,” Liv said with a chuckle.

Hanging up, he tossed the phone on the bed again and rolled towards his wife. “Now where were we?” he mumbled, pulling her towards him. “Handcuffs?”

She quirked a brow at him and smiled, tugging him down into a long kiss.

“Thank you Gladys,” Amber said with a tight hug. “I just need an hour or two for work and then I'll be right back.”

“Of course, mija. Take your time,” Gladys replied.

“Thank you, for being such an amazing person. I knew you'd never isolate me after the divorce but...part of me was still so afraid,” she admitted as she felt tears spring to her eyes. She shook her head, furiously blinking. “Thank you for letting me stay family.”

“How could you think that?” Gladys asked softly, clearly hurt by the statement. “You’re my granddaughter’s mother, of course you’ll always be family.”

“I'm just not used to seeing what real families act like,” she said softly. “I wish I had a mother like you,” she said honestly. “I want to be a mother like you.”

“No one is without their faults, Amber. Pero thank you,” Gladys replied just as Lucia got home with all the kids.

“I want chocolate!” Lily announced.

“No, dinner first,” Lucia replied, closing the door.

“Hi Mrs. Barba,” Amber said softly with a smile as the kids ran to her.

“Hi Tia Amber!” Lily smiled up at her. NJ and Fiona close behind as they snuggled into her.

Amber smiled and hugged them back, she loved your kids like they were her own. “Hey guys! Oh my gosh you're all getting so big!”

“Hola Amber, que tal?” Lucia said, glad for the break. She loved her grandchildren more than anything, but they definitely knew how to wear someone out.

“I'm okay,” she smiled softly. She was getting better everyday. The divorce hurt but she felt like she'd finally gotten her best friend back.

“Good,” Lucia replied.

“Bueno mija, take your time. Fallon is going to have a ball with us,” Gladys said, smiling at her granddaughter.

“Thank you,” Amber gave Gladys another hug before heading out to her publisher's office. Today was the first day she was meeting her new editor and she wanted to make a good impression.

“Amber, it’s good to see you again!” her publisher, Joan said with a grin, bringing Amber into a hug. “How’ve you been? Excited to move forward with your fiction series?”

“I'm on the edge of my metaphorical seat,” Amber said with a half grin. Joan was a little energetic for Amber's taste, but she meant well. “Is the new editor here already? Sorry I had to drop Fallon off.”

“Yes, he’s just finishing up with another client, but it shouldn’t be too long. We’ve already gotten in touch with a few cover designers, and we have an interview lined up for next week for you to promote it,” Joan replied, walking with her towards the conference room.

Amber nodded and moved to the conference room as well, sitting down and tapping her fingers. She got anxious being away from Fallon for too long. It was ten minutes before a tall, muscular man with a chiseled face, dark blonde hair and blue green eyes walked in.

“Sorry, I got stuck with another client. You haven’t been waiting long have you?” he asked.

“Not at all,” she smiled and gestured for him to sit. “I'm Amber.”

“Scott, it’s nice to meet you Amber,” he answered, shaking her hand and sitting across from her. “Okay, so,” he placed her manuscript on the table and dropped his hand over it, “we have a lot of work to do before this will be ready for print.”

She quirked a brow. “Yeah? Because I think it was close to print ready,” she challenged.

“Most definitely not, not even close,” he assured her, shaking his head. “Let’s start with the protagonist, she’s not relatable at all, and beyond that, she has no flaws, which is an issue. Readers want a strong female, but a strong female doesn’t mean she has to be good at everything. No one can relate to that.”

“Well it wouldn't do me any good to make a clumsy and relatable counter-intelligence officer. They don't make mistakes and they are good at everything. I've met quite a few.”

“Nobody is good at everything, and please do not make a cliche clumsy one dimensional character. I think you know that’s not what I meant,” he replied. “Everyone makes mistakes, sometimes even when they know what they’re doing,” he added, smirking a little bit.

Amber narrowed her eyes. “Well then tell me Scott,” she mused. “What is it I should do to add relatability to a soviet counter intelligence operative? Should she be allergic to blueberries?”

“Now you’re just being ridiculous. You have to treat her like an actual person and not some plot device or stand in for your self-insert fantasy,” he quipped back, sighing and shaking his head. “Look, if she’s good at her job, that’s fine, but she can’t be perfect unless you want your readers to hate her, and they will hate her if you don’t start taking my notes seriously. So quit being a smart ass, and get to know this woman like you would anyone else,” he replied.

When she crossed her arms over her chest, he continued.

“She is human, isn’t she? Or is she a cyborg? Why should anyone give a shit about some perfect little blonde soldier-- who can do no wrong-- falling in love? Relatability. That doesn’t mean incompetence, it means giving people a reason to care about her. Not to mention that making her good at everything serves no purpose for building tension. Why would anyone want to find out what happens next if they already know she’ll save the day because she’s perfect?”

“Because it's not about her skills as an operative, it's about her meeting a civilian, loving a man who can never understand what she's seen or what she has to do on a day to day basis. It's about her trying to maintain his innocence, his purity.”

“I ask again, why would anyone care? What about her or him makes people want to care that they fall in love? Also, his innocence? Purity? What is he an ex-priest? I didn’t read that anywhere in the manuscript, but while we’re on the love interest, please enlighten me, why would this guy, who presumably has little to nothing in common with her fall in love in the first place?” he asked.

“He fell in love with her because she has a fire, in my experience, men like a good fire,” Amber looked him over for the first time, looking away. “But fine, what do you suggest I do?”

He smiled a little, shaking his head.

“Men don’t fall in love with a fire. They may be intrigued by a fire, but ultimately it’s some kind of deeper connection that makes them fall in love. And I’m sorry, but no man would fall in love with a woman who has zero flaws because at the end of the day, they want to be with someone who they know is a real person with real strength and real shortcomings. Someone like them, perfectly imperfect,” he replied, sighing heavily. “Look, my job is to make this novel--your novel--the best that it can be. I’ve read some of your other work, including your first book. This,” he gestured to the manuscript under his hand, “this is not your best. You’ve got some good things in here, but you need to take off your journalist’s hat and put on your story-telling one. Trying to tell a romance story the way a journalist would is not going to do your career as a novelist any favors.”

His eyes looked her over briefly, noticing for the first time how beautifully her hair complimented her skin tone, as he waited for her response, or for her to request another editor, one of the two. The latter wouldn’t necessarily shock him.

She smirked and nodded. “Okay,” she relented and leaned over. “But if you've read my book you know I am well versed in ways to kill you if this doesn't pan out,” she teased.

He snorted softly. “Believe it or not, I think I could take you or at least make you work for it.”

“I don't think you could take me, but I'd love to see you try.” Was she flirting? Since when did she flirt? She hadn't flirted in...years. Jesus.

He looked amused by the challenge. “I was an Army Ranger for seven years, so I wouldn’t be too sure,” he replied, winking at her. “Though I have a feeling you would probably also make me work for it.”

“Army ranger huh? Cute.” She licked her lips as he smiled and blushed a little, and she stood up. “Well let me get my notes and we can get to work then, yes?”

“Yes, I wrote them in the margin,” he said as he handed her the manuscript. “I can probably meet again next week, around the same time? Would that work for you?” he asked, looking up at her.

“Sure,” Amber nodded and shook his hand. “It was nice meeting you, Scott.”

“You too, Amber. I look forward to working with you,” he answered, smiling back.

You screamed in excitement as you pulled the robe out of the wrapped gift box. “You remembered!” You threw your arms around Nevada's neck and kissed him.

One of the weird things you'd said to him during the planning of this trip had been to mention your adoration of Hollywood styled robes, how they looked like they were made for a queen with their long flowing sheer fabric and feathers.

“They're just so classy,” you'd said with a smile.

“Yeah, I listen when you talk,” he replied.

“I love it,” you whispered and kissed him before pulling it on and spinning. “Do I look fancy?”

“Super fancy, amante,” he replied, smirking. He’d told you before you left, that he would call you amante for the whole trip in order to keep you in the “boss lady” mindset.

You smiled and blushed a bit, turning to him and looking him over. “Turn on music,” you ordered.

He nodded, moving to the entertainment center in the living room and turning on the stereo, finding the latin station easily.

You smiled and nodded him over, trying to get used to bossing him around. Although it had been fun at first, you actually felt very guilty doing it. So you needed to get used to it fast.

“I want to dance,” you said plainly.

“Okay,” he replied, fighting the urge to add, “So dance.”

“With you,” you specified.

“Ah, okay,” he said, coming up to you and spinning you once before he started to move with you, dipping and spinning you in time with the salsa beat.

“Has everything been checked for bugs or spy stuff?” you mumbled in his ear. Nevada could see how nervous you were, not only leaving the kids but participating to this extent in his business put you on edge.

“Of course, amante, and I got Sawyer running interference from next door. Just in case. No wifi here. No wifi, no signal for bugs,” he replied, spinning you again, and pulling your back against his chest.

He put his hands on your hips to press your ass against his groin while his nose grazed your neck.

“Coño, you smell good,” he purred against your skin before spinning you back out.

This made you smile, “what if I gave you permission to take me to bed and...take charge?” you asked softly. Playing the leading lady was honestly a little exhausting, you wouldn't mind some time to give over control.

“You’d let me do that, amante?” he asked.

You nodded and pressed kisses over his skin, “I want you to take control now, that is an order.”

He smirked, opening the robe and carefully pulling it off you. “I don’t wanna ruin this,” he said, laying it on the couch before he looked you up and down. Without warning, he hoisted you over his shoulder and carried you into the bedroom, dropping you on the bed. “Take off your panties,” he purred, near the foot of the bed.

You nodded and did as you were told, sliding your panties down and waiting for the next instruction as you looked up at him. He looked handsome, the California sun had already lightly tanned his skin, it was a good look for him.

“Come here,” he said, not waiting for you to move before he grabbed your ankles and pulled you to the edge of the bed, pushing your dress up to your waist. “Spread your legs for me, mami.”

You spread them immediately and blushed, you loved when he was like this. “You like what you see?” you purred with a smile.

“Mhm,” he replied, nodding his head and pushing your knees a little further apart. “You wanna be Miss Dama, my little slutty kitten, or you wanna just be my mamacita?” he asked as he got to his knees and inhaled your scent, humming with a smirk.

You shivered and thought for a moment, “kitten,” you mumbled with a blush.

“What was that?” he asked, pretending as though he didn’t hear you as he used one finger to trace the outline of your outer lips.

You gasped, hips arching up. “I-I wanna be your kitten.”

“That’s my good girl,” he replied in a sultry voice. “Now I wanna hear you purr for me, kitty cat,” he added as he laid wet kisses along where his finger had been, avoiding the wet slit for the time being.

You whined, already squirming a bit as you watched him with a bit lip. Licking over your puckered back door, he ran his tongue up over your perineum, pausing at your entrance to taste your fluid and humming before lick just below your clit, not close enough to give you stimulation there yet.

“My sweet little kitty cat,” he whispered, sucking your labia into his mouth.

You growled aggressively, arching your hips and trying to get more stimulation from him. Glaring at him with narrowed eyes.

With one hand, he pushed your hips down against the bed, smirking up at you and pushing his tongue inside you, rolling it against your gspot and dragging it up. Again he stopped just as he reached your clit, letting his warm breath billow over it.

You gasped and couldn't help it as your eyes shut closed, moaning and rolling your hips, trying to grind yourself down on his mouth. Letting his lips brush against your clit, he hummed softly, finally pulling it into his mouth and sucking softly, moaning against you as his index finger trailed over your outer lips, teasing you further.

You smiled a bit, “That feels amazing, pleases give me more daddy.” .”

“You want more, kitten?” he asked and you nodded your head. Smirking, he lowered his mouth to your clit again as he slid his middle finger deep into your entrance, thrusting it gently in and out. He moaned as more of your arousal coated his finger and added a second digit. “My little peach,” he purred against your clit.

“I want your cock,” you begged breathlessly, breathing labored as you gripped the bedsheets. “Oh please fuck me.”

“I’m not done playing you just yet, kitten,” he replied against your sex, licking you once more before he stood and took off his clothes. His hard cock bobbed lazily as he kicked off his jeans, and he sat down next to you on the bed. “Come here,” he whispered, helping you stand in front of him. “Take that dress off,” he said. “Slowly.”

You bit your bottom lip and slid the dress down your body. You blushed, loving the way his eyes ran over your .form.

“Such a sexy little kitten,” he purred, reaching for your hand and turning you around before he pulled you to sit on his lap.

He nudged your legs apart, spreading them wide by hooking them over his knees and opening them so you could see his cock sticking out from beneath you. One hand went to knead your breast while the other drifted to pet your core.

“You gonna purr for me, kitten?” he asked, pinching and teasing your nipple while his fingers on the opposite hand circled your clit.

You shuddered, nodding and panting harder as you whimpered and tried to kiss him, mouth open and wanting for his lips. Kissing you, he rubbed you faster, rocking his hips so that his cock was sliding back and forth between your cheeks.

“I want you to come for daddy like a good girl,” he whispered.

You gasped, arching your back and nodding, kissing him as you came hard, feeling needy and desperate for the feel of him. “Fuck! Daddy!”

“Oh yeah, kitten, that’s right. Come all over my fingers,” he moaned, sliding two into you and stroking you through your orgasm. “Another,” he whispered, crooking his fingers and moving them rapidly against your gspot.

You sobbed, coming again and feeling a hot rush of liquid run down between your legs. “Daddy,” you gasped and pressed your nose against his, trying to catch your breath.

“Oh yeah, kitten, that’s what I wanted,” he purred through a smirk. “That’s my good girl,” he said, kissing you deeply. “Now get on the bed so I can give you your reward.”

You couldn't move, looking at him in exhaustion and laughing a bit, “I can't feel my body,” you mumbled against him.

Smirking softly, he picked you up and stood to lay you on the bed. “You too tired for me to fuck you?” he asked. “I’ll do all the work, promise.”

“I want you to fuck me,” you whispered and looked up at him with excited eyes.

Smirking, he moved to lay on top of you, reaching down to align himself with your entrance before he pushed inside, groaning against your neck. He stayed still for a moment, kissing you deeply and biting down on your lower lip.

“You did so great today,” he whispered.

You smiled, “I didn't realize it would be so hard.”

“You made it look pretty easy,” he replied with a smirk. “You walked in there like you own the place.”

“I don't mean being Camilla, I can do that in my sleep,” you said as you stroked your fingers through his hair while he moved in you.

“Oh,” he replied. “You talking about right now? Cause after you came like that, how could you not expect it to be hard?” he purred, rolling his hips against yours.

You giggled and moaned. “No, I meant pretending not to be in love with you,” you whispered as you nuzzled against him. “Pretending you don't hold every piece of my heart in your hands.”

“Who cares?” he replied, shrugging. “It’s not like it’s real, it’s just a job.”

“It's different for me,” you whispered as you kissed him deeply. “This isn't my world, I don't like pretending I don't love the man I love.” You wrapped your legs around his waist, effectively pulling him deeper.

“I don’t care that you have to do that, I know it’s not real,” he replied. “Try not to think too much about it.”

You nodded and kissed him again, smiling up at him softly. He kissed you back, pulling away after a moment and looking down at you.

“Can we fuck now?” he asked softly, and you let out a laugh, nodding your head.

#Nevada ramirez #rafael barba #trouble in the heights #law and order svu #cuba v dr

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fanfiction-fanfriction · 7 years

Text

The History Textbooks (Will Write About Our Love)

Pairing: Stucky, Background Relationships Rating: E Words: 10716 Summary: Bucky was a smart guy, he got into SHIELD College after all, and scholarship nonetheless. In his second year there he decided to take an American History class as part of the breadth requirement. He should know American history, he is American. He was expecting the cut and dry method of history, so dry that it could probably preserve meat for the winter. But, he wasn’t expecting a blonde with a contagious laugh, the habit of rambling about things he is passionate about, and that looked so amazing in blue button ups. His name is Steve Rogers, new professor of American history and Bucky is so fucked.

A/N: Shout out to @stevestuckyonbucky who spent like three days with me planning this monster of a fic out! I want to apologize for anyone who reads this on Tumblr, I send my condolences.

Ao3 Mirror

(please leave comments, I live for them)

Bucky was a smart guy, after all he did get into SHIELD College on a scholarship, and for mechanical engineering nonetheless. That’s no small feat even for a smart guy like Bucky.

It was his second year, it was a warm September when he stepped into the small classroom in the back of one of the Humanities Wing of the school.

He had to take a course outside of his degree, what they call a ‘breadth requirement’, it forces students to go out and ‘try new things’ as an overly excited grad student put it during orientation. Bucky put off on it until Sam told him that if he did all of those requirements in his last year, it would probably sink his GPA.

So he took his luck with an American history course that focused on eighteen seventy-seven to present day, he knew enough about America, he is American after all. He was expecting for it to be dry, dated, important figures and events.

But, he wasn’t expecting this.

He walked into class to find a blonde man at the front, wearing thick rimmed glasses and a navy blue button up shirt. His hair looked tousled like he had been running his hand through it just moments prior.

He was writing on the large chalkboard, a long line of white chalk cut horizontally through the board with dates being listed in blue chalk and the important events written in pink. Overtop of it was various drawings. From the far right was muskets, the hat of a union soldier and chains being broken. This trend of iconography through the most important events including a sign that read, “I Am A Man” during the Civil Rights Era to the ribbon associated with the AIDS epidemic of the eighties (done in pink chalk as that looked like all that was available), and then at the far end, a drawing of the American flag with the question, “Where do we go from here?”.

“Wow.”

The man looked up, “Hi, I’m Steve Rogers. I’m your professor for the semester.” His gaze wandered to the clock close by, “You’re a bit early, but you can take a seat.”

“Did you draw this?” Bucky asked as he took another step inside.

Steve wiped his brow with the palm of his head, leaving behind some chalk residue, “It’s no big deal.”

“It looks like a big deal.” He looked back at Steve, “Oh you have a little something.” He gestured to his forehead.

“Oh shit.” Steve wiped his forehead with his clean hand, “Thanks Mr?”

“Barnes, James Barnes. You can call me Bucky, everyone does.”

“Alright there Bucky, take any seat you like, your classmates should be showing up soon.” He smiled, it made Buck's face suddenly feel warm.

This was going to be fun.

A few girls walked in and said hi to Bucky, their flirty skirts and seductive eyes didn’t stray the young man from looking at Steve with his own glances. He gave them a slight wave and a “hey” that resembled more a sigh than anything.

The class started soon after and Steve went through the syllabus.

“Alright, there will not be a midterm.” There was a collective sigh in the class, “But three times this semester I will do a notebook check which will count for your participation marks, and two quizzes that’ll make up part of the mark that would have gone to a mid term plus two papers.” Then there was a groan.

“I know, I know, but it'll be spread out. I won’t be that professor who pushes everything till the last minute. My office hours and listed on the syllabus and you can always send me an email. That includes sending me rough drafts of you papers.” He wrote his email on the board ‘[email protected]’, “I’ll try to get back to you within twenty four hours.”

Bucky quickly wrote it down despite it being on the sheet in front of him. He couldn’t wrap his head around how this professor made him feel. He wasn’t like the cranky, bitter, old professors that are only here because of tenure, he was excited with a smallest tint of nervousness.

He didn’t know how confident Steve could have gotten until he opened his mouth to recap the Civil war. It was if what he was teaching was in his veins instead of blood, able to pull up maps, artistic renditions and charts. Everything was so organized because he knew this content so well, and he looked amazing doing it. The ripple of muscles under that blue button up, how his eyes were framed by those glasses and his smile that shined through while he spoke.

Before Bucky could blink the two hours were over, and Steve said, “Alright, please remember to pick up Eric Foner’s book. It’s one of the best contemporary history textbooks out there and it’s on seventy dollars so it’s a steal.” The blonde gave a small laugh, he looked a bit more nervous now, as if he used all his confidence in his two hours lecture.

Everyone piled out, but Bucky took his time packing away his belongings, he maintained eye contact with Steve.

“Mr. Barnes, what can I help you with?”

Bucky shrugged, “Nope, just getting my things, you know you can call me Bucky.”

Steve looked away for a moment to turn off the computer, “You’ve been staring at me since class ended, do you have a question about the syllabus?”

“Just curious.”

“About what?”

“About you, you spent most of the lesson going on about how art was depicted in the Civil War, isn’t the first class supposed to be an introduction, that’s why my friend, Sam isn’t here.”

Steve shook his head, “The best way to enjoy history is to just jump right in. It’s like looking at a painting, there is no preface for it, any language to describe it is an after thought. That’s why I’m here almost every day, to allow students to have those afterthoughts with me.” He looked up, “Also, tell your friend Sam that he should be coming to every class.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him anything on the syllabus, tell him to find it on his own.” Bucky packed away the rest of his belongings and laughed, “Do we have to call you Steve? Isn’t that a little informal?”

Steve chuckled, “Well, I don’t have a Doctorate and Mr. Rogers makes me sound much older than I am, as you can see I don’t wear sweater vests and asked you to be my neighbour.”

The laugh warmed Bucky, “I guess that makes sense.” He took one last look at Steve’s form, how the first few buttons of the man’s shirt was undone, exposing just the tiniest bit of muscle.

He walked out of class, closed the door behind him. He wanted Steve Rogers.

Shit.

He ended up not giving Sam the syllabus, keeping to his promise. He chose to wear a tighter shirt to class the following week.When the two walked in the following week, Sam muttered, “I can see why you keep talking him up like he is some sort of god.” Which earned him a jab in the side from Bucky and forced to sit in the front with his friend.

Steve gave Bucky a once over look, his cheeks stung a little red before he began the class, “Alright, class. Last week was just a warm up. If you want to focus on the Civil War, please next semester take the class with professor Stark, I know, the man is in the sciences, but he can tell you all about the Civil War and everything that lead up to it. He likes to give different perspectives and playing devil’s advocate, but it’s a good learning experience. There’s debates and group projects, everything. However if you do take part in the debate, people have fought in the parking lot over it.” Steve finished writing on the board the course code.

Steve turned around, “Last week we discussed the beginnings of reconstruction and looked at Eric Foner’s book which I hope you had the chance to pick up. We will be discussing America’s Gilded Age. Now can anyone tell me where this term comes from?”

Bucky shot up his hand, “Mark Twain’s work.”

Steve nodded his head before he took down the screen and started up the computer to project the lecture slides, “Yes, it came from Mark Twain, I am going to assume you know who he is.” The first slide of the power point is the infamous portrait of him.

Steve continued, “But today we will be focusing more on what the gilded Age really meant in terms of American society rather than through the lens of a man who really loved cats.” The class gave a small laugh, “I don’t dislike Twain, but if you want to talk about him more there are enough English classes to give you that.”

Sam poked Buck's arm, “Hey man, should we be taking notes?”

Bucky nodded his head, “He does notebook checks.”

Sam gave him a confused look, “We are adults.”

“Does it look like anyone in this twelve person class is really going to be participating in a ten a.m. lecture?”

“Shit.” Sam grumbled before taking out his notebook and a pen from the bottom of his bag.

“This age last from the last eighteen seventies to around nineteen hundred and is often characterized by its corruption and the growth of capitalist greed, as we see in this depiction.” He clicked to the next slide with a satirical comic highlight the greed of factory owners by depicted tired workers carrying their bosses onto the shore.

“However in the more quote unquote ‘art world’ it was overlapping with the impressionist movement, both started around the same time. We get artists like James Abbott McNeill Whistler and his painting ‘The Yellow Room’. Art does hold an important role in American society, that without it we would not have the basis of the traditional sense of culture. Impressionism was and still is the same across all borders, it was a bold approach to capture the emotion of a scene. It was characterized by relatively small, thin, yet visible brush strokes, open composition, emphasis on accurate depiction of light in its changing qualities. It was often accentuating the effects of the passage of time. It focused on ordinary subject matter, inclusion of movement as a crucial element of human perception and experience, and unusual visual angles.” He took a moment to scan the class, before he rolled up his sleeves. He gave a small cough, “Sorry. Anyway back on topic. I won’t be testing you on the role of art in american history, but I find it helpful to view it through a visual lens and how what we perceive as American culture is actually a mix bag of many different cultures, art, ways of life, and so on. And that’s good thing.”

Bucky kept staring at him with complete fascination. He watched the blonde wield the same power as he began to describe how the impressionist movement affected American culture and rounded back to the historical significance of the gilded age.

He was broken from his thoughts when Sam leaned over and whispered, “Do you think he’s off topic.”

Bucky shrugged, “Don’t know, he’s the professional here.”

After class, Sam asked a few questions about what happened last week, using the “I wasn’t feeling too well” excuse while Bucky stood close by.

When Sam finished, he watched Bucky talk with Steve.

“I found that really interesting, how the laws targeted immigrants from very specific countries. I also really liked how you used those illustrations to really highlight those issues and the feelings at the time. ” Bucky got a little closer, “I guess public school is really good at hiding that.”

“Well, I guess that’s my job then. I- um- well I find it important to document the impact of immigrants, my mother was one and I find it helpful for students to have a connection to the stories and facts they are reading. I tend to look at an immigrant narrative and think of my mother, how given the right opportunity she was able to thrive.”

“Where was your mom from?”

“Ireland.”

“So I guess you can hold your liquor then.” Bucky winked.

Sam knew Buck's tactics like the back of his hand, he knew how he’d go in and sweet talk, but this wasn’t some guy at the bar, it was their professor.

“Bucky, we have to meet up with Nat, remember we have to be guinea pigs for her psychology assignment.”

“See you later, sir.” Bucky gave Steve a smile before he was practically dragged out of the room by his annoyed friend.

Once outside the class, Bucky made a noise that could be compared to a disappointed dog, “Oh come on, Sam.”

“No, bad Bucky, bad. No flirting with the professor.”

“Can I a little bit?”

“No, Bucky, this is a professor, a man who went to school to teach.”

Bucky stopped him right there, “He was in the army and got this job soon after being discharged.”

Sam gave him a concerned look, “How do you know this? How much trouble did you get into last week?”

Bucky shrugged as they went down the stairs to the main quad, “Nat knows a guy, who knows a guy, who once knew a guy.”

That was code for Natasha got into the system files again. Sam wondered how much Bucky paid Natasha to do that, or what he offered in return, probably some of that nice vodka that they sell in that fancy store off campus.

They found her sitting with her textbook by the steps that lead from the main quad to the science wing.

“Hey Nat!” Sam called which caused her to look up.

“Hey!” She called back before she shut her book and stood up.

They met in the middle of the quad and Bucky handed her the bottle of the nice vodka from that fancy store off campus. Sam was right in his assumption and was proud of that.

“You’re taking bribes now?”

“When wasn’t I taking bribes?” Natasha responded as she put the bottle in her knapsack, “Now come on you two, I have to ask you a bunch of questions about stress during the early months of the semester.”

After they ran through the questions they all got beers at the bar down the road, called “Fossil”. It was a bit grimey around the corners especially around the windows, not the kind of place someone would take a date, but it was cheap and usually had pints on the cheap.

“So about this Steve Rogers guy.” Natasha stated.

Sam rolled his eyes, “He’s like a love sick puppy.”

“I’m trying to play it cool.” Bucky argued as he playfully punched his friend in the arm.

“So try to make a move, he can’t fail you if you hit on him. Plus, it’s a little cute.” Natasha suggested a smile played at his lips.

“Nat, stop encouraging him.”

“Sam, come on, let the guy dream. Who knows maybe you’ll be the number one bachelor on campus if he gets Mr. Hot For Teacher.”

Bucky hid his face, “Don’t call him that.”

“How about Mr. America?” Nat suggested, “Anyway, Sam you’ll be the most eligible bachelor on campus, that title should bring some people willing to throw bird seed in the park with you.”

Sam pointed out, “We all know I got my sights on one person, so it isn’t that most of the female and a large percent of the male population wants him that is the problem.”

Bucky and Nat said in unison, “T’Challa.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “Thank for telling everyone in the bar about it.” He gestured over his shoulder to the about four people in the bar, “It’s just, why can’t you go for the people who want you?”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders, “He’s fascinating, I want to know everything. I want to know him and I want him to know me. I like spending time with him and I want to know how far down that blush goes.”

“So, you wanna get him naked and show him a good time?” Natasha asked.

“No there would be cuddling afterwards.”

Natasha nudged him in the side, “You’re getting soft.”

“Shut up.” Bucky drank his beer and tried to come up with a plan to make a move.

Bucky made his first move the week after, after he convinced Sam to let him flirt with Steve and ask questions after class.

In exchange Bucky would help Sam gain the courage to talk to T’Challa. Sam couldn’t get a good understanding of him hence it made him nervous, but not nervous enough to ask for Natasha’s hacking assistance, unlike some people.

After class, Sam shot Bucky a look as he left the classroom. He wasn’t entirely happy, but this was the happiest Bucky had looked in a long time. He just didn’t want his best friend to get in trouble, but he had to remind himself that he doesn’t have to take the wheel. If Bucky wanted to fuck Steve that badly, that’s his choice.

“I assume you have more questions, Bucky.” Steve said as he packed his belongings away. He made quick eye contact with Bucky before he turned off his laptop.

“Well, just a few. I know that the next class has to get in here, so let me walk you to your office.” Bucky grinned as he picked up his bag. He must have sounded like a high schooler asking a girl to walk her to her locker, but he couldn’t help it.

“Yeah sure.” Steve pushed up his glasses and put his bag over his shoulder, “So what questions do you have?”

They both exited the classroom and Bucky began to ask, “Well why exactly was the city such a central element in progressive America? Also how did labour and women’s movements challenge the nineteenth century meanings of American freedom?”

“Getting ready for the first paper.” Steve chuckled, “Well.” He began to give an explanation, citing the textbook as a good source to narrow down the idea.

Bucky watched his talk, the way his mouth moved. How he smiled when he cracked a small joke or referenced an art movement during this time period. He watched how his cheeks got warm and moved his glasses back up his face every once in awhile.

He was so enamoured that he didn’t even notice the girls that walked the opposite direction greeting him, he only noticed because Steve gave them a small wave, but Bucky didn’t mind with them.

He nodded along to what Steve had to say and piped in when he could, he did do all the readings after all. He enjoyed hearing what his professor had to say, he looked so happy and in turn that made Bucky happy. It was a warmth that blossomed in his chest and melted through his veins like syrup.

When they got to his office, Steve looked at his watch and his eyes went wide, “Oh shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’d let you stay, but I have to go to a meeting. I realize that emails won’t cut it, here’s my cell number.” Steve quickly got out a shred of paper and a pen from his pocket. He quickly wrote down my phone number, “If you have any questions or concerns or if you’re having issues in general let me know. You’re a good guy, Bucky and college can be hard for everyone.” He gave Bucky a smile

Bucky dubbed the ‘All American Smile’, it was pure, innocent and made him want to salute it. The other man nodded his head, “Yeah, sure, of course. Holy shit, thank you.” He grabbed the piece of paper from Steve.

“Have a good rest of your week, I hope to see the outline of your paper. Remember to tell Wilson that the first notebook check is coming up at the end of the month.” Then walked away from Bucky to the faculty wing of the building.

Buck couldn’t help but have a little pep in his step. He raced back to meet up with Sam at the library to show him what got from Steve, a ten digit phone number that allowed him to talk to Steve anytime. It couldn’t get better than this.

He of course texted Steve that night.

To Steve: [7:05 pm] Hey, it’s me, Bucky. I was wondering how you were doing

He got a response almost instantly.

To Bucky: [7:05 pm] Enjoying the last little bit of time I have before assignments get handed in

To Bucky: [7:06 pm] The football game on television, The New York Giants are playing.

Bucky smiled to himself as he turned on the radio in his dorm to find the sports channel, he wasn’t able to have a television as the room was too cramped, but he made do with the small battery powered radio that he bought at a garage sale before moving in.

To Steve: [7:07 pm] Fox Sports right?

To Bucky: [7:08 pm] Why, are you watching?

To Steve: [7:08 pm] Yeah, New England just got a touchdown.

To Bucky: [7:08 pm] Don’t remind me :(

Bucky laughed as he put the radio closer to him and took out his textbooks from under the bed. They continued to text one another throughout the game, most of the time not even talking about the game unless the Giants got a touchdown, while Bucky sat on his bed with his textbooks scattered across it as he began to do his assignments for his other classes. Once he got through his work and the game ended, he was going to call Sam about this.

They continued to talk long after the game ended, small casual things about home, interests, the sci-fi novel that Bucky was attempting to get through but had to stop due to school work.

To Bucky: [1:04 am] Goodnight, good luck on your project for that engineering class, I hope the work for my class isn’t interfering with your other assignments, and I don’t mean those old garage sale pulp books, haha.

To Steve: [1:04 am] Don’t worry, I’m a student, I could bullshit my way out of a paper bag.

To Bucky [1:04 am] That’s not very assuring, I am an educator, specifically your educator, remember?

To Steve [1:04 am] Don’t worry, I never bullshit your class. You make it too interesting to bullshit :)

On the other end of the line, in a small apartment close to campus. Steve lied in bed with the small television blaring in front of the bed, turned to his side and faced his phone while his golden retriever, Scamp, get comfortable on the other side.

Steve blushed at the recent text, the compliment that was propped up as a joke made his face feel warm and his heart stagger in pace, a small uptick for a moment.

He thought about the last text when he put his phone down and turned to face the other direction, “Hey Scamp.”

The dog’s ears perked up at the mention of his name.

“That student, Bucky, he wouldn’t have a crush on me, would he?”

Scamp made a noise and curled up onto the bed. Steve rolled over his back and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. He felt a twitch under his skin, in his fingers to reach for his phone again and send one last text, to be the last text Bucky read before bed.

Did he want Bucky to have feelings for him? Was he really that gone for the student with the long hair and the stunning grey eyes. The realization began to bubble up in his chest, that Bucky wasn’t being nice, he wanted Steve. But Steve was questioning if he wanted to be with the other man and if so, how badly?

Steve reached down and petted along Scamp’s fur before he laid back down and fell asleep.

Bucky felt so close to Steve's body, his arms were loosely around Steve’s waist as he kissed up along his back. The kisses were soft, wet marks across the other man’s pale shoulders and the muscular expanse of his back.

It made Steve shiver and his cock jolt to full mass. Steve sighed dreamily, “Bucky.”

“Yeah, that’s me. Don’t wear it out.” There was another kiss placed on the junction between his shoulder and neck, a sweet spot that always made the blonde squirm.

The mess of hands along his skin made Steve’s head feel full of a hazy lust, how they felt sliding up his chest, down his back, along the junction of his thighs, even as it brushed up against more sensitive areas, the places that gave him goosebumps.

“You ready?” Steve questioned as he looked over his shoulder.

“I don’t know, are you ready?” Bucky smiled, that charming smile that made Steve want to groan but also kiss him silly.

He got a good look at Bucky and saw the toned muscle that poorly hid under those tight shirts he wore to every class, how he’d bend over and pick things up once in awhile that drove Steve up the wall out of pure want and need for the other man.

“I’ve been ready for this for a while now.” The words tumbled out of Steve’s mouth as he buried his face deeper into his pillow. The soft cotton of the case felt good against his hot skin.

Bucky knew how to push his buttons. Wind him up like a toy and send him off, with those cute smiles and informed questions. He knew that he was just taking this course for a requirement, but he cared so much and even asked questions about the rambles Steve went on about art movements and their importance. Even to smaller points like brushstrokes and angles. He was so damn charming that the feeling of his hands along Steve’s skin sent his brain into overdrive as it clouded with lust. Like a fan trying to get rid of fog from a fog machine only to fail and become consumed by it.

“That’s good to hear.”, Bucky slowly slid into Steve and kept a steady hand on the bottom of Steve’s back. He gave it a soft pat as he fully inserted himself into the blonde.

Steve’s hole clenched around Bucky’s cock, it felt like heaven with every nerve ending coming alive, his whole body buzzed with want.

“I think I love you.” Bucky’s voice was close to Steve’s ear. Hot breath against hotter skin, the blonde was so flushed by their intimacy.

Bucky’s hand trailed down and brushed along his cock before he took a full grasp of it.

“You’re beautiful. I’m love with you.”

“I think I love you too.” Steve whispered.

Steve quickly woke up, the t-shirt he wore stuck to his body along with the blonde hair to his forehead. He felt painfully hard and it didn’t go away as he laid back down. He groaned and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. Everything felt so real and so good.

Fuck, he really was gone for James “Bucky” Barnes.

After class two weeks later, Bucky walked with Steve to his office again. Steve was reluctant at first, but realized that Bucky had some interesting questions and preferred to have the discussion in his own office where he wasn’t interrupting another class getting in. Steve thanked him for carrying his bag and took it from the other man. He took a look at how Buck's shirt fit across his chest, how nicely the fabric pulled across it.

“Hey, I was wondering if I could stick around. It’s been hard to find quiet places to work and I want to get started on this assignment.”

Steve unlocked the door to his office and said, “Fine by me, but you can’t look at the upcoming quiz, got it?” He attempted to give Bucky a stern look.

“Don’t worry, I won’t cheat.” Bucky flashed him a blinding smile before he followed Steve into the office.

Inside the office was rather spacious, with books that lined the bookshelf and canvases that rested against the wall.

“You’ve got some nice art there.”

Steve smiled, as he gave a quick look at Buck's ass before trailing up to the other man’s back, “I painted them myself, I haven’t had the time to hang them up yet. The first two are from my apartment window and the other two are from the park. I used to paint a lot more, but I’m just content with sketching now.”

“I’d love to see more of your work one day.” Bucky smiled as he put the canvases back in their proper place.

Steve blushed and put his bags by the door then closed the door behind him. He took out his folder labeled “Quiz #1” and placed it on the desk along with his laptop. He yawned before sitting down.

“So what are you studying anyway?”

“Engineering.” Bucky shrugged.

“And you’re taking a history class?” Steve looked away from his laptop to the student sitting in the chair across from him.

“I like you, you’re a really good professor.”

Steve looked down as he felt a blush forming on his face, “Oh, thank you.” He had to be professional about this.

After a half an hour passed of small chit-chat before there was a knock on the door, Steve got up and answered it. On the other side was Dr. Bruce Banner from the chemistry department.

“Oh, hey Bruce.” Steve smiled as he exited the office.

Bucky looked away from his textbook to overhear their conversation, the door was open so it wasn’t private.

“How is your first few weeks going?”

“Better than expected, I didn’t realize the classes were so small, printed out a hundred outlines before I even for my class list.” He chuckled.

“Well, if you don’t change anything you’ll eventually use all of them.” Bruce responded with a chuckle of his own, “Am I keeping you from anything?”

“I have a student in my office, I was thinking of maybe trying to see if I could get some lunch.”

Bucky leaned a little closer.

“I forgot it at home and I don’t want to take the time away from him, he’s a good student and I don’t want to deprive him of that.”

Bruce made a soft noise, “I can’t advise that considering-”

Steve shrugged, “Teaching is more important, these kids paid good money.”

“Kids? You’re not that much older than some of them.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “You know what I mean, why is tuition so expensive.”

“Not all of us got our education thanks to the military and grants.” Bruce responded, “Just take care of yourself Steve, I don’t want to find you in the clinic because you passed out.” He looked over Steve’s shoulder to Bucky, who quickly looked back down to his book, “Well, I’ll leave it to you, remember Steve, you might be strong, but some of those illnesses are still there.”

Steve returned and closed the door behind him, he sat back down at his desk and continued to go through the quiz questions.

Bucky needed to do something about that, he can’t let Steve starve like that! He felt this urge deep in his gut to provide for Steve, take care of him.

“Hey, Steve.” Bucky started.

Steve looked up, “Yeah.”

“Is it cool if I grab some lunch real quick?”

Steve nodded his head, “Go right ahead.” He gave Bucky a smile that made the other man’s heart leap.

When Bucky left, Steve covered his head with his hands. He had to be professional, he had an inkling that Bucky was hitting on him.

He knew the reputation that Bucky had, many people wanted him. They thought he was handsome, smart and a little mysterious, and Steve couldn’t disagree with that. Despite been nervous about having Bucky around, he actually enjoyed it. He was a straight A student that asked the right questions.

He realized that the sharp smiles, nice gestures and complimentary words were getting to Steve’s head, but the thing is that Steve didn’t mind, at least the emotional, irrational side of him didn’t.

Buck soon returned with not one burrito, but two in hand along with a drink and a small salad.

Steve looked at the food back to Bucky, “You sure do eat a lot, well I guess you must work out like what, eight times a day.” He chuckled. He swallowed hard for a moment when he got a good look at the curl of Bucky’s arm as he carried the food.

“Oh, this isn’t all for me. I got something for you, I didn’t know what you’d like so I stayed away from the spicy stuff.” He placed one of the burritos on the desk along with the bottle drink, “I overheard what you said to Doctor Banner about you forgetting lunch.”

Steve smiled and gave a nod of his head, “Thank you, I may have changed a lot since my time in the army, but I’m still in a few ways sick, so I appreciate this.”

Bucy acted surprised, “You were in the army?”

“I got discharged and ended up finishing my masters in history, Doctor Banner is the reason why I got the job, thought I’d make a good change for the faculty, considering I think most of the other history professors saw the German invasion of France.” He chuckled as he unwrapped the tin foil from the burrito.

Bucky chuckled along with him before he took a huge bite into the burrito, he kept an eye on Steve.

“Have you begun studying for you quiz yet, and made sure your notes are in order. They’re both next week.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve already started, it’s covering everything before world war one right?”

“Yeah, we will be spending a few weeks on those two wars. Those were my specialties in school.” Steve looked away, slightly flustered.

“You know you sound really confident when you talk about.

“It’s like I forget how nervous I am, it’s like when blowing up a balloon, but eventually I deflate and I enjoy just having one on one conversations with students.” He shrugged before he bit into the burrito.

“Well, you’re doing a good job. Best class I have this semester.”

“Thank you, Bucky.” Steve blushed and it really made Bucky want to know how far that blush went down.

When they finished lunch, Bucky said he had to get ready to go to work.

“Thank you visiting me, Bucky. I hope to hear from you soon.” Steve held up his phone, “I don’t think anyone has ever texted you as much as you have.”

Bucky broke out into a grin, “Well, I hope to continue my record.” Then walked away.

Steve closed his office door behind him, he think he might just be gone for Bucky.

Bucky found Natasha in the library without Sam.

“Where’s Sam?”

She looked up from her textbook, “Finally got the courage to talk to T’Challa after class, two of them are grabbing lunch.”

Bucky sat down beside Natasha, “I think I should ask Steve out.”

“You know Sam said that exact same thing to me, I’m glad you are all figuring your shit out.”

“I mean it.”

“Then what’s stopping you.”

“I’ve gone in too deep, I spend practically every office hours with him and it’s not even like we’re talking about history, he’s this artist, like he paints and draws and does all kinds of amazing work. And, it’s not like he’s hard on the eyes either, it’s like I want to congratulate him on his face.”

“Then take a chance, figure out your battle strategy and then congratulate him on his face.”

Bucky chuckled, “Thanks for the pep talk.” then sat across from Natasha and began to text Steve about next week’s office hours.

To Steve: [3:30 pm] You have office hours next week?

To Bucky: [3:31 pm] Yep, same time, same place. See you then :)

The following Monday came by and everyone handed in their notebooks for marks and were handed the quiz in return.

Bucky spent the last week coming up with his ‘battle strategy’ and decided to be bold about it, it wasn’t like him to beat around the bush so why do it when asking Steve out.

He finished his quiz quite quickly, but remained at his seat. He began to doodle along the edges of the page. He couldn’t get how beautiful Steve’s artwork was, beautiful work for a beautiful man Bucky thought. When he took notes in class he’d have his own little sketches, he was a bit hesitant at first to hand in his notebook, but he managed to incorporate it into plan.

Steve sat up at the front, making quick work to go through each of these notebooks. Anyone who had more than one page of writing would get a student full marks.

For a moment he realized that he didn’t have to really go through Bucky’s notebook, but for appearances sake went through it anyway. He noticed that one of the pages had a pretty well done sketch of himself, even getting the details of his hair and glasses right.

Bucky did have feelings for him! He closed the notebook quickly and gave him the extra marks. He looked up to the other man to find those grey eyes staring back at him. He gave him a smile as he felt his pulse racing under his skin.

Once he went through the books he had some time, he took out his own sketchbook and began to do his own doodling once he saw Bucky not looking at him.

They kept up the routine of Bucky going to his office. Steve brought in leftover Chinese food for the two of them as a way to thank him for last week. He only mentioned it after the quiz so Bucky could keep focused on the task.

He’d was now keenly aware of the feelings that Bucky had for him, and he knows his own feelings for the other man. But, he wasn’t expecting for it to be brought up so quickly.

“I was wondering if you wanted to go out on a date with me?” Bucky asked trying to capture a casual tone.

Steve took a forkful of the greasy noodles and sighed, “Bucky, I can’t say yes.”

“But why, we make such a good team, we have fun together, I’ll take you somewhere nice.” Bucky gave his award winning grin. It made Steve’s knees a little weak, but he had to be firm on this.

He didn’t want to Bucky’s academic success riding on the fact that they were together and he didn’t want to lose his job.

He gestured the fork to Bucky, “How about this, you ace the second quiz and the finals and I’ll take you out to dinner.”

Bucky leaned a little closer, “You mean it?”

Steve nodded his head, “It’s good to give students a little motivation.” He was totally gone for James Barnes, and honestly if they can make it through the rest of the semester he’ll be okay with being with him. That didn’t discount any teasing. They couldn’t make out on campus, but he could give Bucky a little nudge to do well.

And thus began the devilish streak that Bucky would have never suspected this hot blonde of a history professor to have.

To Bucky: [11:45 am] Two weeks till finals. You nervous?

To Steve [11:47 am] Nope, just busy.

To Bucky [11:47 am] Can I send you something?

To Steve [11:47 am] Sure

To Bucky [11:50 am] (Photo attachment sent)

This had been going on for a few weeks, Bucky was so used to the timid, blushing professor he wasn’t expecting the little devil that was inside of him. It started out with cute little text messages, giving him motivation to do well on his papers, assignments, quizzes and everything. Usually countdowns made him nervous, but they were always attached with a photo, the closer time came, the more suggestive they were.

Bucky quickly opened the message to find a photo of Steve, lounging on his couch on his stomach, wearing just his boxers, the shot showed his half smile, bareback and, covered ass.

Bucky was so fucked.

He never thought he could masturbate or study as hard and as frequently as he did.

He quickly got another photo, this time Steve stood in his underwear, in the full length mirror in his apartment. He can see every muscle on Steve’s body, how good the blonde looked.

Bucky remembered when Steve was nervous about sending photos, until Bucky sent some of himself with the text, ‘if we go down, we go down together. I’d rather lose my scholarship then lose out on dating you’, and ever since then it had been nothing but teasing from Steve.

To Steve [12:00 pm] I think I’ve created a monster

To Bucky [12:00 pm] What do you mean?

To Steve [12:01 pm] I mean that I thought you were some cute professor, I didn’t know you were some kinky fucker

To Bucky [12:01 pm] Well, I can’t wait to take you out somewhere nice, to see you again. As you said, if we go down, we go together. I think that was the last straw.

To Bucky [12:01 pm] I really like you, and I want you. I Haven’t been with anyone in a long time.

To Bucky [12:02 pm] (Photo attachment Sent) I want you, Bucky, and I can’t wait to say that to your face.

The photo wasn’t one in a sexual nature, it was of Steve sitting at his desk, chewing on the edge of a pen with his glasses on, he looked like he was working now. Yet, the photo was still arousing to Bucky as he laid out on his shitty bed, cock hard in his sweatpants. He pulled down the sweatpants and quickly took a picture of his hard cock with the caption, ‘two more weeks until I ruin you with this, then you can tell me how much you love me to my face.’

To Bucky [12:05 pm] Can’t wait till the final exam, I hope you can ace it ;)

The day of the final exam came, end of the semester. Somehow, someway Bucky had been able to pull of doing well not only in Steve’s class, but also in all of his others. Sam joked that he did have a habit of thinking with his cock.

He wanted Steve so badly, the teasing and the texts, along with the photos were driving him up the wall, he had two folders on his computer filled with photos that Steve sent him. He was still surprised by how once Steve got into it, he really got into it.

“Alright, class. I am so thankful for having you this semester and I hope you continue your journey in the humanities or whatever field you are in. I am proud of you and I know you’ll do great on the exam. You’ll have two hours to complete it, starting… Now.” He hit the time for two hours and every began to frantically write on the paper.

Within the first hour a few people had already began to hand in their exams and file out, the look on their faces told them that they had given up, but Bucky wasn’t giving up just yet. He had this, it’s just that getting an A on an exam takes time.

Bucky couldn't help but let his mind wander when he’d occasionally look up at Steve. Last night he sent Bucky a picture of him in a jockstrap and Bucky thought he’d never orgasm again after how hard he finished when he masturbated to that photo.

Bucky swallowed hard and scratched at his collar as he circled another multiple choice answer that asked him about the main social movements of the nineteen sixties.

He knew he had to focus, but he couldn’t help it. Steve looked so good even with his head buried in his phone. How soft his hair looked, how kissable his lips were, how easily he could wrap his arms around the blonde's waist. He was a dream come true and he could only make it a reality if he aces the exam. But he knew he was getting a treat after he finished the exam, just a little taste of the blonde and that gave him motivation to finish a little faster.

He finished in an hour and forty minutes. A grin plastered on his face as he wrote down the last sentence.

Bucky slammed the test down on the front desk loud enough that most of the students looked up. He gave Steve a stern look, he mouthed, “Your office.” Before he went back to his seat to grab his pencil and school ID. He picked up his bag from the front and left to Steve’s office.

Steve felt flustered as he went back to mindlessly examining his papers, Bucky really didn’t mean that right?

When he walked into his office after the exam was finished, he found Bucky in tight red and black briefs and socks. His feet propped up on top of his desk as he gazed down at leatherbound book. He looked up and smiled, “Hello, sir.”

“Bucky, why do you have no clothes on. I thought you were joking.”

“Nope, I’m here to finally take you.” Bucky said nonchalantly as he turned the page, attention back on the book.

“Bucky, you should probably buy me a drink first.” He gave a slight tease, still surprised by seeing his very attractive student with such little clothes on. He quickly closed the door and locked it.

Bucky reached down, his gaze back on the book, and held up a bottle of wine from the corner store.

Steve rolled his eyes, “Are my lines really that predictable.”

“Not really, things like this took me off guard.” Bucky turned the book to face Steve.

It was Steve’s sketchbook.

“You’ve been thinking about me.” Bucky smirked as he dragged a finger across one of the sketches of himself that littered the page.

Steve blushed, it ran down his neck and across his chest, Bucky could only imagine how far it spread. The blonde teacher stammered, “It’s not like…” He sighed, “Yes I have been thinking about you, I’m pretty sure the hundreds of text messages made that clear. But, I’d like to wine and dine with you before I get in your pants.”

“Oh come on, sir, you promised.”

“I promised a date, not sex.” Steve put his belongings down by the floor.

Bucky put the bottle back down on the floor and got up, “You’ve been teasing me for weeks now. We both want it, why not live a little.” He rounded the desk and backed Steve up against it.

“Fine, but I’m in charge.” Steve tried to establish.

Bucky ignored him and pressed a filthy kiss against his lips, caging the blonde against the desk.

Steve trembled with desire and from holding back for so long. He tried again as he gazed down at Bucky’s wet lips, “I’m… I’m in charge.”

Bucky chuckled and grabbed a hold of Steve’s blue shirt and pulled him into another kiss. Bucky was in charge this afternoon.

Steve whimpered and melted, he was immediately ready to give up any chance at dominating the situation. He was putty in Bucky’s strong, calloused, amazing hands. The kind of hands that were an artist’s wet dream and thankfully for Steve he was an artist.

“Up on the desk, Steve.” Bucky purred.

Steve made quick work of getting things off of the desk so he could lean over it.

Bucky licked his lips at the display of Steve’s ass.How round it looked in this tight dress pants, he had taken a liking to the look of the blonde’s ass, he had seen it enough times clothed or partially clothed to develop a taste for it and wanted to see more.

“Pants off, baby.” Bucky went to his bag and dug around for the lube and condom he put in there, thank you on health services.

Steve groaned at the nickname, it had been a long while since someone called him that with such affection. He made quick work of his belt, tossed it onto his chair, and kept his underwear and dress pants on one ankle. He spread his legs out and looked over his shoulder.

“Shirt too, I want to see how far that blush goes.” Bucky chuckled as he pulled off his underwear. He lubed up his fingers

Steve groaned as he stood up and slowly unbuttoned his shirt before he folded it neatly and placed it on the chair. He bent once again over the desk and wiggled his ass for effect.

“Now you’re just teasing me.” Bucky groaned at the sight before him.

Steve rolled his eyes, “Guess you’re not so cocky anymore, maybe I should top.”

Bucky chuckled, “Not today, I’ve been having fantasies about this ass for the longest time. It’s just amazing.”

Steve blushed and buried his face in his arms.

“There’s that blush.” Bucky smiled, he saw how is trailed all the way down the blonde’s neck and chest, “Wow, it really does go far down.”

Bucky slowly lubed up his fingers before at an equal pace pushed into Steve, he earned himself a muffled groan and the sight of the blonde’s arched back. Like an angel out of a renaissance painting.

“Ever done this before?”

Steve nodded his head, “Just not in here.”

“Well, I’m honoured then to be your first and hopefully your only.” He began to move his fingers quickly, they didn’t have all the time in the world. Even though the university was next to dead, someone could come in.

And that turned Bucky on even more.

Bucky continued to finger him, slowly opening up his hole until Steve was whining under him. He inserted a third finger which caused the blonde to buck his hips up in the hopes of getting more of the sensation that was crawling all over his body.

“You’re so tight, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to fit my cock in here. But, I think I might stand a chance considering how well you’re opening up for me.”

“More, more. Please, Buck.”

Bucky added a fourth finger, moving at a quick pace this time, but kept aware if Steve started to show any discomfort.

“Bucky, fuck you feel so good. I don’t think I’ve ever been fingered like that.” Steve groaned.

Bucky chuckled, slowing down his pace just slightly to earn a moan from Steve, “Aw, don’t inflate my ego like that.”

Steve opened an eye at Bucky, “I wouldn’t bet on it.” But let out another moan as Bucky picked up his pace once more. Little jolts of pleasure shot up his spine with every thrust of Bucky’s fingers, they were like a work of art.

Steve could paint Bucky like this and never get it right. The passion that Bucky held in his eyes as he continued to finger him, the careful precision as he stretched Steve to accommodate his cock. Don’t get him started on how his cock looked, Steve had seen his fair share of the male form both in school, in the army and being on the internet, but never had he wanted to sketch, paint, examine and showcase how amazing Bucky’s cock looked in art. It sounded cheesy, but his mind was slowly getting dragged into the warm of pleasure.

“You ready for me, Steve?” Bucky’s voice brought him back as he slowly took out his fingers.

Steve groaned at the sudden loss, “Yeah, come on, fuck.”

Bucky chuckled, “Have I ever heard you swear before? I don’t think so.”

“Don’t tease me.” Steve arched his back.

“It’s only fair considering that you teased me.” Bucky gripped onto Steve’s ass and gave it a tight squeeze. He rounded the man to get a good look at his face.

“That was all fun and games, plus we don’t have much time. We really shouldn’t be doing it here.” Deep down Steve wanted to do it in his desk.

Bucky kissed Steve’s cheek, “Don’t worry, I’m going to fuck you so hard that you’ll feel like time is slowing down.”

“Oh, stop that.” Steve buried his face in his arms in an attempt to hide the darker blush that was growing across his face.

“Words like that get to you.” Bucky smirked.

“Shut up.”

Bucky licked his lips at the sight of the blush, it growing darker the longer the two of them spent like this. He slowly stoked his cock as he covered it with lube.

“You look amazing.” He sighed out as he continued to rub his cock.

“You tease.” Steve mumbled into his arms.

Bucky stopped and got back behind the blonde. He slowly pushed his cock inside of Steve, the tight feeling around his cock made him harder. It was a feeling he had never felt before, he’s been with guys and girls alike, but the situation and the build up had lead up to this and it felt so damn good.

“We shouldn’t be doing this here.” Steve groaned as he was being pushed up against the desk even more only to be dragged away immediately after, keeping in pace with Bucky’s thrusts. His self preservation was almost gone as he felt himself grow harder at the sensation, at the feeling of Bucky completely dominating him.

“Yet, we’re here. You’re all nice and bent over and I’m fucking you right into the wood.”

Steve responded, “Next time, I top.”

Bucky gave Steve a nice swat on the ass, “Alright, baby, whatever you say.” Then gave a hard thrust, his cock nudged against Steve’s prostate. Steve scrambled to cover his mouth as he let out a sultry moan. It felt so good and sparked this small fire in his stomach, to do something wrong and inappropriate. After spending so much time in the military maybe he needed to something on the wrong side of ethics, not illegal just frowned upon. At least with the semester over he was able to do more of this, except maybe in the comfort of his own bed and not the hard wood of the desk.

“If you top next time, you’ll still be making those same noises you’re holding back now.” Bucky purred, his voice was hot against Steve’s already burning ears.

“Shut up.” Steve squeaked out, his voice was a little too high pitched from his liking, thanks to another brush of Bucky’s cock against his sweet spot.

Bucky smirked and began to thrust harder, “You like that?”

Steve felt his knees begin to shake as he nodded his head, not confident in his ability to pronounce words.

Bucky dipped his head and began to kiss at Steve’s skin, it felt sweaty against his lips, but it didn’t matter to him. After months of pining over this man, he was finally getting what he wanted, to just have Steve Rogers close to him.

“You’re so beautiful.” He groaned as he nipped at the skin.

“Shit, Bucky, please.” Steve croaked out. He felt his body tense up as he got closer to orgasming. He didn’t want Bucky to stop, his head felt clouded with lust and a need for the other man.

He never thought he’d ever get this far with him, he was too skittish for a while, but those beautiful eyes, soft hair and shining smile had him weak in the knees, and it wasn’t like this kid was dull. Cracking jokes, flirty gazes and always asked the right questions. After being on his own with Scamp for some time, it was everything Steve needed in a companion, a partner… A boyfriend.

“You’re amazing, you feel so good.” Bucky groaned.

Bucky thrusted, his hands planted against the smooth, pale flesh of Steve’s hips. His eyes casted down to how the blonde’s ass looked as he fucked him harder. The slight jiggle of his ass with every thrust caused an electric feeling to run down his spine.

Fuck, he was perfect.

He picked up the pace, going fast enough that he knew that Steve’s beautiful thighs and hips were going to be bruised tomorrow morning due to how hard he was being pushed up against the hardwood. The desk moved ever so slightly forward with each thrust.

Steve began to feel the pleasure washing over him in larger waves, ready to pull him under and make him orgasm. He was surprised by how well Bucky knew how to maneuver him, how to make him feel so good. Maybe Steve was a simple man with simple ways to get off, but his mind wasn’t to that. It was instead focused on the orgasm he was chasing.

“Buck, Buck.” He groaned out as quiet as he could like a mantra.

“Yeah, baby, I’m here. I’m going to make you feel so good.” Bucky said as he took a tighter hold of Steve’s hips. He loved how smooth the skin felt under his touch, how pale it looked as it was always hidden under tight fitting dress pants.

“Bucky, I’m gonna, I’m gonna come real soon.” Steve groaned out, his socked toes curled as Bucky’s cock brushed against his sweet spot again.

Bucky grinned, the slight desperation in his voice only encouraged him to fuck Steve hard, making sure to aim for the sweet spot just to give Steve that edge he needed. He could imagine himself doing this more often. To bare witness to how beautiful Steve looked when he let his professionalism down and acted a bit on the risky side. Only he got to strip away the edges of the blonde, beautiful history professor and see the tease that haunted his dreams since the day they first met.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful.” Bucky kissed along the shell of the other man’s ear, he felt how hot and red it was against his lips. How the blush he always fantasized about went as high on his body as it did low. It only added to the undeniable charm that Steve had, even if he never noticed it, “I’ve never seen someone as beautiful as you.”

“No I’m not.” Steve gave a feeble response.

Bucky gave an extremely hard thrust, it caught Steve off guard, “You’re beautiful and don’t forget it.”

Steve only responded in a groan, wrapped up in his goal to achieve orgasm.

Steve quickly covered his mouth with his hand, gritted his teeth as he jerked his hips to get him over the edge, to reach his climax. He let out a strained moan as pleasure washed over him and he came all over his stomach and the desk.

He brain felt fried, his cock sensitive and his body was still shaking. Fuck, he was wrecked.

“That’s it, that’s it, baby. I’m close behind you.” Bucky sighed into Steve’s neck as he continued to thrust his hips. Steve felt so laxed against him, but yet his hole still clenched around him.

Bucky kissed along Steve’s neck, tasting the salt on his sweaty skin. He felt heavenly, better than any fantasy he could ever come up with. With a few more hard thrust of his hips, he lets out a low groan before biting Steve’s neck, leaving a nice red hickey just above where the neck and collarbone meet.

“Bucky.”

“Yeah, baby.”

Steve turned his head as much as he could as smiled, his expression looked so blissed out. With his eyes shut and breathing that came out is hard pants along with the mess on his abdomen.

“Oh baby, fuck yeah.” He groaned out as he felt a shiver crawl up his spine and his orgasm caused his head to swirl.

Steve let out a blissed out sigh and mumbled, “Fuck that felt good.”

“You could say that again.” Bucky responded as he wiped the sweat away from his forehead.

“I’m keeping you that’s for sure.” Steve chuckled, “I think you’re stuck with me for good.”

“Sounds like a plan.”, Bucky slowly pulled out, feeling the stickiness of the lube and his own cum coat his cock. He was still feeling the after shivers of orgasm. He peeled off the condom and wrapped it in tissues.

Steve panted as he grabs some tissues off the desk, “I never, ever want you to take a class with me again.” He wiped away the cum on his stomach and off the desk. That desk was going to smell like cum for the next semester, even if it doesn’t Steve would still it does.

Bucky looked a bit disappointed, he felt as if his heart had begun to break. Did Steve only want him for this one time? Was all the lead up to this and that was it?

“I don’t mean it like that.” He reached out for one of the papers on the stack still on the desk. It’s an academic map, he handed it to Bucky, “If you want or do take anymore history courses here’s what you can take. If you don’t take a class from me you’ll graduate faster and then we won’t have to hide this.” He sat up on the desk, “I don’t want to do that to you.”

Bucky broke out into a grin, “I knew you were into me, but that was really bad post-sex talk.” before he leaned over and pressed another filthy kiss on Steve’s lips which made the blonde moan.

“Sorry about that, but hey, you got me.” Steve smiled finally catching his breath.He reached for his sweater put it back on, “So, how does seven o’clock next Thursday at the McGilligan's pub sound? All the students will be back home by then.”

“Sounds great! So what are you doing for the holidays?”

Steve shrugged, “Home with my dog, my folks are long gone by now. What about you?”

Bucky pulled on his red henley and zipped up his hoodie, “Not on the best terms with my family so I’ll be in my dorm.”

Steve thought about it for a moment, “When the semester is done and we had our first date, would you want to maybe spend the holidays with me? You don’t have to say yes, I know you have some friends who you’d probably wanting to hang out with.”

Bucky shook his head, “Sam’s out in DC to see his parents. Nat is going back to Russia to see her mom, Clint is going with her and we all have bets to see if he’s going to come back alive.” He lightly chuckled, “So I’m pretty much by myself with enough hot ramen and plums.”

“Plums?” Steve chuckled.

“They were at the last farmer’s market in the quad, they taste good okay.”

Steve pulled up his pants and walked over to Bucky, there was a slight limp in his step. He kissed Bucky on the lips and wrapped his arms around his waist, “Well, bring whatever you need, I’ll be taking care of you this holiday season.”

“I like the sound of that.” Bucky smiled, he was a little smug at Steve’s slight limp, knowing that he alone caused that. He snaked a hand down Steve’s back and groped his ass, “Christmas morning there better be a bow around this.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Still snarky.”

“And you’re still so gone for me.”

Maybe history wasn’t as dry as Bucky originally thought, especially when he got the bright red “A” a few weeks later and the directions to get to Steve’s apartment.

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