[ Because he's got office hours until six, and he's scheduled in multiple meetings with students that he really can't cancel no matter how much he wants to.
She can think of it as a reward for toughing it out. ]
[ she nearly texts back something petulant and impatient, but then... doesn't. class happens, she gets distracted.
but, during a break in her night class, she sends him a selfie: of her sitting in one of the study lounges on the building's top floor, an oversized university sweatshirt swallowing her frame. one that might look a little familiar. ]
i think somebody turned down the heat in this building tonight...
[ He's a little late responding to this one, too, but when he finally gets to glance at his screen, he's torn between indignation and the sort of smug satisfaction that can only come from seeing a sexual parter wrapped up in your clothes.
Still, he can hold onto indignation for a little bit before his baser instincts take over. ]
[ Hang on, his brain needs to reboot for a second. You'd think a man who'd been up close and personal with her nipples before wouldn't be so blindsided by the thought that there's absolutely nothing between an item of his clothing and said nipples, but you'd be wrong. ]
[ go ahead and miss her, matthew. think about her half-naked under that sweatshirt, sitting in a lecture hall impatient and eager for six pm on the dot. ]
[ He can't believe her. How the hell is he supposed to sit through endless sob stories about why someone needs an extension on their paper when he's thinking about her nipples, this is so rude. ]
[ she is absolutely a tease. she's also the kind of tease who looks at her phone, but doesn't reply. class is almost over, anyway, and she has to make a stop afterwards to drop off her things at her apartment β so by the time matthew's secretary (excuse her, his department's secretary) lets him know he has a last minute visitor to office hours, it's just a few minutes past six. ]
you wouldn't turn away a student in need, would you?
[ It's probably a blessing that she doesn't continue to text him, because he really doesn't need to be thinking about her tits while he's dealing with his own students. Daisy likes to tease him about how they all want to sleep with him to improve their grades, and she may not be entirely wrong, but he tries hard not to let his mind wander to sexual thoughts when dealing with barely-legal co-eds. He may be a gross pervert who has sex with a girl much younger than him, but he has some standards, thank you.
He's just contemplating whether or not he should pack up his things or try and text her again when his phone buzzes, followed quickly by the phone on his desk ringing.
He knows who this is.
Yeah, thanks Sharon. Just send her back, it's okay. But she's the last one, okay, tell everyone else I've already gone home.
Sharon, the department secretary who is old enough to be and acts just like his mother, chuckles and promises to lie on his behalf, before presumably covering the receiver and telling Daisy to go on ahead. Thanking her again, Matt hangs up and straightens his clothing as he walks towards his door, sticking his head out and waiting until he sees Daisy at the end of the hall before calling out to her, loud enough for Sharon to overhear: ]
Alright, c'mon, I'll squeeze you in before I go home. What's up, Daisy?
[ his co-ed students want to sleep with him because he's their professor. the presumed boost to their grades is just a bonus. daisy, on the other hand, wants to fuck him simply because she wants to do it, and because he's particularly good at it. (she wants to see him for entirely different reasons, but she's not thinking about that right now.)
as for his question... well, she doesn't bother to answer it. instead, she ducks under the arm that's propped against his open doorframe, slipping past him and into the office; it's only once he closes and locks the door behind her that a laugh slips past her once tightly-pressed lips, echoing between them as she pulls herself up onto the corner of his desk.
a familiar scene, maybe. only this time, it's just an oversized university sweatshirt and leggings between the air and her skin, and a head filled with dirty thoughts she had fully intended to place there. ]
Hi, baby. [ all sweetness and sugar, as if she hasn't been purposefully driving him crazy for the last hour, a finger crooked in his direction. ] Miss me?
[ At least this time he can pretend that the closed and locked door is to sell the lie that he's not in his office.
It's hard to care much about that, though, when Daisy hoists herself up onto his desk, her legs swinging coyly, and smirks at him like she knows exactly just what he's been thinking of for the past hour. He'd be annoyed — he is, to be honest, but not enough to do anything about it — but she looks good in his clothes, her leggings doing nothing to hide the shape of her legs from him, the legs he has vivid memories of wrapped around him. ]
You're going to get me fired. [ He doesn't seem to mind, if the way he stalks towards her is any indication, his hands automatically lifting to cup her jaw so he can tilt her head back and lean in to kiss her forcefully, stepping between her knees and pulling her up against him. ] And then who'll fuck you like I do?
yeah idk
I don't think she did the reading.
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i also think your student wants you to get real friendly with her in exchange for a good grade.
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[ He really is. ]
She could just really like cats.
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she'll be disappointed that you're not going to go meet her kitty.
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[ as he well knows, what with his endearing habit of copying down her class schedule in his grading book. not his phone, that'd be too obvious. ]
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[ Because he's got office hours until six, and he's scheduled in multiple meetings with students that he really can't cancel no matter how much he wants to.
She can think of it as a reward for toughing it out. ]
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but, during a break in her night class, she sends him a selfie: of her sitting in one of the study lounges on the building's top floor, an oversized university sweatshirt swallowing her frame. one that might look a little familiar. ]
i think somebody turned down the heat in this building tonight...
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Still, he can hold onto indignation for a little bit before his baser instincts take over. ]
How did you even get that??
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I can't believe you. I thought I lost it at the gym! You little thief.
[ It's hard to be mad when she looks so cute in it, though. ]
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though i should warn you, it was too hot to wear anything underneath
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I don't know if I believe you.
[ Is he angling to get her to send him a snap of her in just her bra?
Possibly. ]
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you know i'd never lie to you.
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You really weren't kidding.
[ Hang on, his brain needs to reboot for a second. You'd think a man who'd been up close and personal with her nipples before wouldn't be so blindsided by the thought that there's absolutely nothing between an item of his clothing and said nipples, but you'd be wrong. ]
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they're calling us back
[ go ahead and miss her, matthew. think about her half-naked under that sweatshirt, sitting in a lecture hall impatient and eager for six pm on the dot. ]
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[ He can't believe her. How the hell is he supposed to sit through endless sob stories about why someone needs an extension on their paper when he's thinking about her nipples, this is so rude. ]
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you wouldn't turn away a student in need, would you?
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He's just contemplating whether or not he should pack up his things or try and text her again when his phone buzzes, followed quickly by the phone on his desk ringing.
He knows who this is.
Yeah, thanks Sharon. Just send her back, it's okay. But she's the last one, okay, tell everyone else I've already gone home.
Sharon, the department secretary who is old enough to be and acts just like his mother, chuckles and promises to lie on his behalf, before presumably covering the receiver and telling Daisy to go on ahead. Thanking her again, Matt hangs up and straightens his clothing as he walks towards his door, sticking his head out and waiting until he sees Daisy at the end of the hall before calling out to her, loud enough for Sharon to overhear: ]
Alright, c'mon, I'll squeeze you in before I go home. What's up, Daisy?
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as for his question... well, she doesn't bother to answer it. instead, she ducks under the arm that's propped against his open doorframe, slipping past him and into the office; it's only once he closes and locks the door behind her that a laugh slips past her once tightly-pressed lips, echoing between them as she pulls herself up onto the corner of his desk.
a familiar scene, maybe. only this time, it's just an oversized university sweatshirt and leggings between the air and her skin, and a head filled with dirty thoughts she had fully intended to place there. ]
Hi, baby. [ all sweetness and sugar, as if she hasn't been purposefully driving him crazy for the last hour, a finger crooked in his direction. ] Miss me?
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It's hard to care much about that, though, when Daisy hoists herself up onto his desk, her legs swinging coyly, and smirks at him like she knows exactly just what he's been thinking of for the past hour. He'd be annoyed — he is, to be honest, but not enough to do anything about it — but she looks good in his clothes, her leggings doing nothing to hide the shape of her legs from him, the legs he has vivid memories of wrapped around him. ]
You're going to get me fired. [ He doesn't seem to mind, if the way he stalks towards her is any indication, his hands automatically lifting to cup her jaw so he can tilt her head back and lean in to kiss her forcefully, stepping between her knees and pulling her up against him. ] And then who'll fuck you like I do?
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