september 6 - houseplant. 2,188 words. @jegulus-microfic. nsfw.
part one. part two.
unspecified age gap. professor/student. daddy james.
It begins, of all things, with a houseplant.
The entire school is talking about him by the end of the first day.
Have you seen the new professor? Professor Potter?
I heard he’s single. Do you think—?
I heard he’s divorced. How old do you think he is? Forties?
Definitely not. Thirties, easy.
He’s giving dad vibes. But like, in a daddy sort of way.
I’d suck his dick for an A.
Regulus hears the whispers, but he missed the first day of classes. Family problems, he told Professor Potter in an e-mail. I can explain if you need me to, but fair warning, I will occasionally miss class.
To which Professor Potter replied, No worries. Take care and let me know if you need anything.
Unfortunately, Regulus does need something—a copy of the textbook he can’t afford. When he replied with this, Professor Potter said to stop by his office. I have extras. You’re welcome to one.
Regulus likes him already; he’s nice.
Whether he’s as hot as the rumors claim remains to be seen.
Regulus finds his office tucked away in a corner. It’s the temporary office all new professors are stuck in until their official office is ready. It’s tiny, lacking much sunlight. Regulus feels a little bad for him. Professor Potter is nice, after all. He deserves a nice office.
At Regulus’ knock, there’s a gruff, “Come on in.”
His voice is definitely pleasant, at least. Warm, but not exactly soft.
“Good morning, Professor. I’m—”
Regulus freezes, fingers tightening on the door handle. He really, really thought the rumors were bullshit. His university has had plenty of “hot” professors, but as far as he’s concerned, not one of them lived up to the hype.
Professor Potter is not in this box of Not Hot “Hot” Professors.
He’s in a category all his own.
“Hello.” His desk is a mess—the entire office is, really—but he’s cleared a space for his laptop. “Are you Regulus?”
Fuck.
His name has never sounded so good.
“I am,” he manages, hiking his messenger bag higher on his shoulder. “I’m, uh. Here for the book?”
“Sure, sure. I have it right here.” Professor Potter reaches in his desk, then holds out a thick textbook. “You can keep this one. No need to return it. I hope everything is alright, though.”
And Regulus, not one to like talking about his home life with a stranger, finds something—anything—to latch on to. Says in lieu of a reply, “Your houseplant is dying,” and wants to die on the spot.
Professor Potter’s brows furrow, but he follows Regulus’ line of sight. “Ah. That thing. It’s not mine. It was here when I moved in. Bummer, though. It doesn’t deserve to die because I’m incompetent.”
“I know how to take care of plants.”
“Green thumb, then?”
“Something like that.” Regulus nods at the dying plant. “Just water it and take it out of direct sunlight. But don’t use too much water or you’ll drown it.”
Professor Potter grins, and Regulus melts into the floor. “How much is too much for you?”
Oh. Oh. Regulus is dead on his feet. His voice high, a little thin, when he replies, “Start small. Add a little more with time.”
“Mm. I’ll give it a go. Thank you, Regulus.”
//
By the third week of school, Regulus’ crush is out of control.
He’s always been a top student, and law is his thing, but he can’t focus in class. Not when his professor’s ass looks that good in his suit trousers. Not when he runs his fingers through already messy hair and makes it messier. Tanned skin and broad shoulders, a brilliant smile and nice to everyone he meets.
Regulus has never wanted to climb someone more.
//
“I don’t think I’m saving the plant.”
Regulus stops on his way out the door. He’s the last student to go. Not intentionally, of course. He just…took a while putting his stuff away.
“Oh?” he asks as the door shuts.
Professor Potter shrugs, a little sheepish. “Do you mind coming by my office later? If you’re free. No pressure. I’ve just grown attached to that little plant. I’d hate to see it die.”
Regulus realizes he’s nodding before the “Yes” even leaves his lips.
//
The office is too small and Regulus is burning.
This man is just so tall, and he stands behind Regulus, watching him water the houseplant, without a single care for the damage he’s doing to Regulus’ frayed nerves.
“Huh. I was giving it too much, I think.”
“Like I said—start small. Add a little more once it’s used to it.” Regulus flinches. His brain is so far in the gutter he doesn’t think it’ll ever crawl out.
Professor Potter leans against his desk. “How are your classes?”
Regulus, able to breathe again, blinks at him. “They’re…fine, I guess.”
“And mine?”
“Difficult, but not the worst. I like the material. You teach it well.”
That smile again—blinding, but Regulus can’t look away. “Thank you, Regulus. I appreciate that. You’re welcome to my office any time if you have questions.”
Regulus takes a deep, steadying breath, and goes for it: “I can stop by to water the plant, if you want. I get out of class at noon. I’ll water it at lunch.”
Impossibly, the grin widens. “I’d like that.”
//
Regulus is good at reading people. It’s a skill acquired from years in a home that wasn’t right. He’s learned to read moods. To get a feel for what a person wants before they even open their mouths.
So it’s easy, after a week of spending lunch with one Professor Potter and his houseplant, for Regulus to know he’s wanted. Even in class, he feels that gaze like a hand trailing fingers down his spine.
But he bides his time. Waits a month. Learns that Professor Potter is James, and he’s accomplished in his field. Smart. Mid-thirties and yes, he’s divorced, but no, his ex-wife isn’t the devil.
She’s lovely, he tells Regulus one afternoon. We just wanted different things. She’s dating a woman now, and I’m—well, I’m open to whatever.
Regulus is so, so screwed.
//
It happens on a Friday.
It’s an accident, really. Regulus just meant to check on the houseplant before heading home. He didn’t expect James to be there. He’s usually gone by now, along with the rest of the faculty.
Except today, he isn’t. Today, he’s sitting at his desk with his head in his hands. When Regulus walks in, he looks up.
“Oh,” Regulus says, startled. “You’re not usually here on Fridays.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Is now a bad time? I just wanted to—”
James shakes his head. “Now is a perfect time. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
Regulus’ heart skips a beat. “Oh. Okay. Well, I have an hour before the bus. So I’ve got time.”
“I can take you home, if you miss it.”
How long is this talk going to be?
Regulus drops his messenger bag in one chair and sits in the other, waiting. He tries not to fidget. Can’t help it and ends up shoving his hands under his thighs to quell the tremors.
“Look, Regulus. I think you know what I’m about to tell you, but I’m going to say it anyway. Clear the air.” James rubs at his temples. Takes off his glasses to rub at his eyes, then shoves them back on. “I’m—Fucking hell. I’m attracted to you. Which is the least professional fucking thing I’ve ever said during my career, but there it is.”
Regulus stills.
“And you—Well, you’re brilliant. Easily the best student in my class. So I’m going to be adult about this and have you transferred. I’m not fucking with your schooling just because I want to—” James’ jaw clenches. “I’ve talked to the other professor that teaches this course. She said she’s happy to take you—”
“No.”
James’ mouth snaps shut. “I’m sorry?”
“No. I want to stay in your class.”
“Regulus. I don’t—What are you doing?”
Regulus’ body moves on its own. He gets to his feet, walks around the desk, and pushes at the back of James’ chair to turn him. I’m attracted to you. It’s as good as giving Regulus the green light.
“Oh, fuck. This is—” But James chokes on his words when Regulus straddles him, knees on either side of his hips and arms around his neck. “This is not where I expected this to go.”
“Isn’t it?” Regulus asks, tilting his head. “Tell me you had no idea I’m attracted to you, too.”
James drops his head back, nostrils flaring. “I had some idea, yes.”
“I’m a busy guy. Lots of schoolwork. Part-time job. Yet I take an hour every day to come take care of your houseplant. Don’t you think that’s a bit much, Professor?”
On the last word, Regulus rolls his hips forward, arousal clear where it strains against his jeans.
“Fuck,” James hisses, hands already sliding over Regulus’ ass. “We can’t—I can’t sleep with a student. I will lose my job so fucking fast. I don’t care how—Regulus, don’t.”
But Regulus is nothing if not hellbent on getting what he wants now that he knows he can have it. So he rolls his hips again, bearing down on James’ cock, slowly filling underneath him.
“I think about it all of the time,” Regulus says, lips on James’ ear.
“Think about what?”
Regulus grins. James is breathless, hands gripped tight on his waist. “I know you’d fill me up good, daddy. So why don’t you?”
It’s a growl low in James’ throat, then a mouth hot and demanding on Regulus’. A brutal kiss, filthy, and long overdue. Regulus feels a little lightheaded; the room fades and there’s only this kiss, and James underneath him—and he’s hungry.
He doesn’t tell James he technically has a date tonight. Some random guy from the coffee shop. A quick fuck to mellow him out before the weekend.
What he does tell James is, “Fuck me on your desk,” and oh, James does. He works Regulus open with surprisingly gentle fingers, then hoists him up on the edge.
“I—Wait, fuck,” he mutters, his sudden irritation palpable. “I don’t have condoms. I—Fuck. I’m an idiot. How could I—”
“I take it you don’t make it a habit of fucking your students,” Regulus muses, leaning back on his elbows. His ankles are hooked over James’ shoulders, his cock swollen and red, leaking all over his stomach.
“I don’t ever do it. But I—Damn it.”
“I’m clean,” Regulus offers. “If that makes a difference.”
James’ jaw clenches. Regulus can see him warring with the desire to fuck the man spread open on his desk, and the need to be responsible. “Are you—Fuck, baby, I want you so bad. I can wait, though. It’s up to you.”
Regulus tugs him forward, urges him down, and kisses him hard enough to feel teeth. “Just fuck me. Please, daddy.”
It does the trick. James uses a mixture of the moisture at his head and spit in his palm to slick himself up. He pushes into Regulus slow, inch by inch, swearing the entire way. It isn’t until Regulus tells him, “Fuck me like you mean it,” that he moves.
The desk isn’t bolted to the floor. It skids, loud, and Regulus is beyond thankful the faculty is gone. He doesn’t think it would take a genius to figure out what’s happening in the office at the end of the hall.
James fucks him better than he’s ever been fucked in his life, and Regulus breaks the skin on his knuckles when he bites down to keep himself quiet. James kisses him, swallows the moans that escape, and when Regulus breaks, James is there to pick up the pieces.
“Can I—?” James manages, breathless. “Fuck, baby, you’re so tight.”
“Inside,” Regulus tells him, delirious from his own orgasm, still working through it. “It’s—Yeah, it’s fine. Just—Yes.”
James stills inside him a moment later, and Regulus is so high he doesn’t know up from down. He throws his head back, James’ lips on his neck, and the whole world feels right like this.
“That was—” James coughs a laugh, then groans when he pulls out. “That was not at all where this talk was supposed to go.”
“Don’t lie. You know as well as I do where it’s been going.”
James smirks down at him. “What time is your bus?”
“It left five minutes ago.”
“So you need a ride.”
Regulus bites down on an already bruised bottom lip. “Something like that.”
James runs a hand down his face with a groan. “This wasn’t a one time thing, was it?”
“You tell me.”
“No. You make the rules, baby. Not me.”
Regulus purses his lips. “Sounds fair. I’ll take the weekend to think about it. Homework, if you will. How’s that sound, professor?”
“It sounds like you’re going to ruin my entire life, and I’m probably going to let you do it. On my knees. Hands tied behind my back.”
“Good. Then I think we’re off to a fantastic start.”
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