Big Book Of Smornby One Shots

Notes (N)

TW: Professor Kink, Smut, Rimming, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering

Just look at the size of that fucking thing.

Smith's eyes are locked onto the bulge in his professor's pants. Normally, he sits way up in the back of the classroom, doodling and nestling his latest novel obsession into the pages of his textbook. He's always been aware of how attractive Professor Hornby is, he just never really got a good, close look at him until now.

This morning, as everyone had lazily filed into class, Hornby had requested that everyone move into the first few rows. He said he was a little hoarse from yelling at some sporting event the day before, and needed everyone to be closer, so he wouldn't have to strain his voice. Smith just so happened to have sat on the front row, and had been taking in every detail of the gorgeous man as he paced back and forth in front of him.

"Do you plan on taking notes? Or am I boring you?"

Smith snaps out of his thoughts, and his eyes flick from the professor's crotch to his face. His cheeks immediately feel like they're on fire as he realizes he's just been caught ogling his teacher's crotch. He mutters an apology and ducks his head, scribbling furiously at his notebook and hoping that Hornby shifts his attention off of him quickly.

A few moments later, Smith's eyes drift over him again, taking in the dark hair that his hand almost itched to run through, the angular, beautiful face that he has tried to make more rugged with a scruffy growth of beard, those piercing ice blue eyes...

...that are currently locked on his.

Smith almost gasps aloud at the intensity of his stare. There's a mischievous glint in those eyes, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. Smith would almost swear that he meant that as the seductive gesture that it seemed to be. He shifts uneasily in his seat, feeling a tingling between his legs that might soon demand some attention.

The lecture continues, and Professor Hornby slips his jacket off, draping it over the back of his chair, and proceeds to roll up his sleeves to the elbows. Fuck. Even his forearms are sexy. Smith rolls his eyes. This is getting fucking ridiculous. You're getting all hot and bothered over a man revealing just his forearms. What the fuck is wrong with you? Whoremones?

He jots down a few more notes, though the words on his page are disjointed and nonsensical. There's no way that he's going to be able to make any sense of this shit later. He might as well not even be taking any notes.

The man apparently has a huge cock.

Smith almost snickers out loud as soon as he writes it. He bites down on his bottom lip and glances around, making sure no one can see what he's writing.

What I wouldn't give for him to bend me over that desk of his and fuck me until my legs give out.

This time, he does snicker, and the professor's eyes flicker over to him. Smith quickly clears his throat and innocently slides his hand over his notes as Hornby moves closer. Smith's pulse is pounding as his eyes move down to his paper and his eyebrow arches.

"Something funny?" he asks.

Smith shakes his head emphatically. "No, sir."

He stops directly in front of him, and it literally takes every single ounce of self-control that Smith possesses to not stare at his crotch. He can see it in his peripheral vision, and it's almost like it's fucking calling him. He feels his face flush once more, and he bites down on his bottom lip again.Oh fuck. I'm gonna lose it.

He's just about to excuse himself, maybe feign illness, anything to extricate himself from the increasingly embarrassing situation that he's found himself in, when Hornby concludes the lecture. Still standing in front of Smith, he dismisses everyone.