Up to No Good

As I scrub the murky remains of foxflower juice out of my crisp white collar, effectively only making it worse.. No, much worse, I still can’t stop picturing the back of her bloody head.

How her arm always shoots up immediately after any professor poses a question. That smug way she subconsciously crosses her legs when delivering the ever-so-perfect answer from her know-it-all mouth.

As insufferable as it is, I’ve been studying her. Watching her closely. Father always tells me “know thy enemy,” and if I ever want to overthrow her tenure as head of class, I have no choice but to observe these annoying habits…closely.

Like the way she tucks her quill behind her ear when she finishes an exam, always the first to finish, no matter how well I know the material.

Those long, dark ringlets spilling over her narrow shoulders, glossy and gleaming in the thin beams of sunlight coming in through the classroom windows. Slender fingers reaching back to gather the locks and pull them to one side, revealing the back of a creamy, smooth neck- Bollocks! I’m already late, aren’t I?

Oh, she’s just going to love this. Insufferably punctual, that one.

With any luck, this will be the one day in history where even she’s running-

“You’re late.”

Bollocks.

“And by the looks of those ink-riddled parchments, you’ve been here since yesterday.”

For a moment, I swear I see a slight pink flush in her cheeks, but she promptly crosses her legs, nudging a loose curl to fall in front of her face and I’m sure I must be mistaken.

“Getting a head start is all. Not something you’re accustomed to, it seems.”

“Some of us don’t need to try so hard, you know.”

“Natural born talent, and all that.”

“Is that natural born talent the reason the entire Potions department pleaded with me to tutor you so you don’t flunk out of potions? Or was it only because your father threatened them with the pain of a thousand curses?

Nicely played.

We glare at each other for a moment, and I have to fight not to look away from those simmering brown eyes. My hatred for her doing strange things to my body, no doubt.

“Shall we begin?”

“If we must.”

“Please. This is as excruciating for me as it is for you.”

“Oh, I doubt that.”

The beginnings of a smile tease across her lips, then quickly disappear. She tucks her quill behind her ear and only then do I notice the way her robes are draped over the back of her chair. Her collared uniform shirt unbuttoned at the top, revealing the slope of a smooth, pale chest.

“We’ll start with the basic components of Shapeshifter's Sip.”

I swallow hard against my heartbeat thumping in my ears. Only because she is so distinctly irritating, I can hardly stand to be in her vicinity, of course.

“Did you hear me?”

“What?”

“I said, we’ll start with the basic components of Shapeshifter’s Sip. That should be simple enough. Even for you.”

“Please, I’ve been brewing Shapeshifter’s sip since I was a first-year.”

“With the likes of your posse? Brewing turnip wine is more likely. Though I’m not sure Luke could even distinguish the difference between a turnip and a potato.”

“Oh? Why do you think Professor Scorrel showed up to class in a ballgown during our first year?”

Her eyes widen, pulling a smirk across my lips. I hardly even notice the way her pink mouth falls open, just slightly.

“That was you?”

“Me? Heavens, what an idea. A feeble minded plebeian such as myself could never invoke such mischief.”

“Well, the dress did suit you. I think pink might be your color.”

I feel my face redden at that and a warm sensation begins to unfurl in my stomach. Once again, a physical manifestation of my loathing, surely.

Though the tightness in my trousers suggests something far more horrific. I lay my hands across my lap, shifting in the stiff chair, feeling her eyes watching me. Though she thankfully doesn’t seem to notice my…discomfort.

“Regardless, it’s good to brush up on. You can find a breakdown of potion components on page one hundred and eleven.”

I reach into my satchel, finding it empty, my face burning hotter as I realize-

“You’ve forgotten your textbook, haven't you?”

“I’ve no need for it, Bookworm.”

I point to my head, and watch her exasperation morph into disdain.

“I’ve got my textbook right here.”

Instead of the anticipated eyeroll, or an annoyingly witty retort, she flips her textbook closed. She places her palms down on the book and faces me with sudden intensity, her dark eyes boring straight through me.

“You know, you could at least pretend to try. Instead of wasting my time.”

I open my mouth to respond, but she’s already gathering her things, her unruly long curls spilling across her face as she bends over, revealing a glimpse of the top of her breasts. I quickly avert my eyes, finding a fascinating speck of ink on the floor to stare at.

“I told the Professor this was a bad idea. I should be studying anyway.”

Before I know what I’m doing, I hear myself call out after her as she reaches the door.

“Hey hey hold on, don’t get your knickers in a twist-”

“You know what irritates me the most?”

“No but, please, do tell.”

“It’s not your arrogance, or your entitlement, or your perpetual tardiness, or your insufferable sense of self-importance, or even your daddy’s money. ”

“No?”

“It’s the fact that, as much as I hate to admit it, you don’t even need these tutoring lessons. You’re one of the smartest students in our class. Maybe even smarter than me. Yet, you care so little, this all so frivolous and unimportant to you, you can’t even muster the effort to keep yourself from flunking out of potions. Instead, you sit here, half an hour late, without so much as even your textbook, wasting the time of someone who actually has to work at being top of the class.”

“It’s not…it’s not that.”

“Well, I don’t see any other explanation for you failing potions. Like you said, you’ve been making Shapeshifter's Sip for ages. You could recite this material in your sleep. You could be top of our class, a real threat to me, as you seem so intent on becoming. So unless you just don’t care, what is it then? What’s your excuse?”

“I-I…”

Her chest heaves with the exertion of tearing me to shreds, face flushed, hair falling wildly around her face. My stomach churns as I feel myself growing harder, wracking my brain desperately for some pointless, cutting retort. Her eyebrows furrow, head tilting inquisitively before her eyes glance downward at my lap.

Much to my horror, I see the moment she realizes, her eyebrows darting upwards in surprise. I brace myself for another round of verbal lashing, but instead, she places her satchel on the floor, and closes the door, standing there, just staring at me.

“I see.”

“It’s not-It’s not like…that.”

“What is it like then?”

She stares at me, unflinching, hand rising to brush her hair over her shoulder. I can hardly stomach the thought gnawing at the back of my mind. That it’s not loathing my body feels for her. It’s something far worse. Something I’ve known since we met our first year at this university…

“It’s far too humiliating to admit. Unspeakable, even.”

“I see. I won’t subject you to such torment any longer then.”

She turns away from me and before I can stop it, my arm shoots out to grasp her hand. Her skin is soft, ridiculously, unbearably soft, and slightly cool to the touch. For a moment, I let myself remember all the times before I’ve imagined what it might feel like, against my willpower and better judgment, to hold her hand. I grip it tightly.

“It’s… um..”

Her cheeks are pink as she turns back to face me, something gleaming in her eyes. Her eyebrows furrow again, and my stomach lurches as I think for a moment she’s going to pull away, but she steps closer, her other hand reaching toward my face. I hold my breath in anticipation, but her hand stops at my neck. She brushes a slender finger over the dark stain on my collar.

“Something in this course that you can’t quite work out?”

“Precisely.”

“Let me guess.”

“Not that I could prevent you.”

“And it’s not really Shapeshifter’s Sip, is it? It’s something more… complicated.”

“Annoyingly correct as always, Miss Know-it-all.”

“Late to class, unwilling participant in tutoring and can’t even tell me what the problem is, hm?”

“Perhaps I need proper reprimanding.”

Bullocks. What’s gotten into me? Perhaps I have been sneaking too much pumpkin wine. But her cool fingertips sliding slowly across the hot skin of my neck feel too good for me to seriously consider that at the moment. Or what my father might say. Oddly, for once, I find myself not giving a damn.

“How could I ever truly discipline such an unruly pupil as you?”

“I’d certainly like to see you try.”

“Would you?”

“Your hearing is not as exceptional as your wit, I see.”

“But I think there’s something about me that you find more exceptional than my wit… isn’t there?”

I should deny it, but there is no part of me that can be willed to comply with the full weight of her gaze on me, all of her attention focussed on the tension thickening the space between us.

“Yes.”

“Then perhaps I do have a lesson you’d be receptive to.”

With that her fingers are twining through the hair at the base of my head, yanking back gently. I reach for her, and pull her closer to me by the arm, until she's standing between my legs. I can feel the heat radiating from her body, almost smell the intoxicating magnetism of her… I’ve never been this close to her before. Suddenly, I’m not sure if I can bear to be any further again.

“But I want to hear you say it, just to be entirely certain.”

“Your perception seems to be rather unexceptional as well… but if you must hear the words.”

I dare to place my hands on her hips, shifting forward in my chair and pulling her body flush to mine. I get a whiff of the scent of her hair, raspberries and cedarwood. It smells almost as good as she feels where her skin presses against mine through our clothes. As I pull her closer, I allow myself to admit, I’ve dreamed of this. Literally.

“I want you, now and… for a long time. It’s you I want, and your infuriating perfection, that has driven me to distraction in this and every other term.”

“And you’ve chosen, at no point, to make this easy for yourself? To even ask if I might want this too?”

“One thing I’ve learned is that with you, it’s never easy… and you’d never make it so easy for me.”

“Smarter than you look, then.”

“Cat’s out of the bag now. And despite your teasing, I think you might want this too. Especially my… wit.”

She grins at me, that pearly white, beautiful grin, before straddling me and sitting down in my lap. I can’t stifle the little groan of pleasure that slips out of me, my hands exploring her glorious hips, finding their way to the small of her back.

“You think so?” “Is that what I feel in your trousers, pressing up against me, your… impressive.. wit?”

“S-something like that.”

“You’re cute when you’re nervous.”

She slowly begins to pop open the buttons on her blouse, revealing more immaculately smooth skin. I reach to slide under her open shirt, to feel the soft skin on display for me, but she brushes my hand away.

“Unruly, stubborn students don’t get rewards.”

“How about arrogant, entitled, and perpetually tardy students?”

“What is it you want from me, exactly?”

She shrugs her shirt to the floor, her bare stomach and shoulders practically glowing in the dim, late afternoon light of the classroom. I press my lap up against her and she bares down, moving her ass in slow circles. I have to fight not to touch her, not to tear off that little black skirt. I think, Everything, but I say,

“It seems like you already know.”

“I think I might… but shall I guess again?”

“Mhm.”

“Discipline.”

“Astute as always, Bookworm.”

“You know, for showing up so late today, and forgetting your textbook, of all things, I really ought to punish you.”

“How about for my insufferable sense of self importance?”

“That too.”

She grabs my hand from where it rests on her hips, and slowly brings it under the hem of her skirt. I realise, as my fingertips meet warm, wet, unbearably soft flesh, that she isn’t wearing any underwear.

“Oh, God, yes."

I’m aching in my trousers, desperate. As I unbuckle my belt and start to unzip them, she waves a finger at me.

“ah-ah.”

Suddenly she slaps my hand away, replacing it with her own.

“No touching… you just get to watch”

I can feel her teasing herself with gentle touches through my trousers and my cock aches in time with her soft moans.

“Please. Let me touch you.”

“No, but you can taste.”

“What did I say about..mm…rewards?”

I feel heat spreading in my lap. She’s soaking through my trousers as she rides her own fingers, rubbing small circles on her clit with her thumb. It’s maddening, forcing myself to keep my hands clenched at my sides..

But somehow, the pleasure I feel from obeying her command is almost worth it. I force myself to ignore my trapped, leaking cock, and I focus on how beautiful she looks like this. Face flushed, lips parted, strands of hair sticking to her cheeks. Like this, she looks particularly perfect.. I wonder if I’ll ever be bold enough to tell her so

“You’re so wet.”

“Astute…as always.”

“Fuck. Please.”

“Please, what?”

“Let me touch you. Let me feel how wet you are. Please.”

“Are you going to be a good boy for me?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

“Then you’d better fuck me like one.”

We both fumble quickly with the zipper of my trousers while she’s rutting her pussy against my thigh as I finally pull my aching cock out.

I grab her hips, looking into her eyes for approval and seeing nothing but red-hot-hunger staring back at me. I pull her towards me, keeping her hovering above me a moment feeling the wet heat of her pussy against the head of my cock, before finally pushing her hips down onto me, but before I can move–

“please.”

Her pleading drives my hips up with involuntary need, filling her in one smooth thrust.

“F-fuck.”

“So… good… yes”

“Wanna…be good for you…baby.”

“Then shut up…and let me ride you.”

“F-fuck…I’m gonna…already…”

“Not yet.”

“Mm…baby…I-”

“Ladies first.”

“Don’t… cum. Be a good boy… hold it for me. Keep going… gods, yes. Almost…”

“I can’t… please… I’m gonna….”

“Not… until.. I say.”

Just when I think I might not make it, her eyes squeeze shut, lush lips falling open as she lets out the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.

“Ohh…fuck… Yes-”

“Now cum for me.”

“Good boy.”

“How’d you know I like to be called a good boy?”

“Wasn’t it you who pointed out my astute observational skills?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Well, I spend a lot of time observing…you.”

“Oh do you now?”

“And I’m sure you’ll never let me forget it. Embarrassing, isn’t it?”

“I’ve…been doing the same.”

“Really? For how long?”

“Oh, I don’t know…uh…first year?”

“You really are cute when you’re nervous.”

“I’m pleased my anxiety delights you.”

“More than.”

With that she was pulling herself off me, standing in front of me and brushing the hair out of her face before retrieving her wand from her satchel. With one wave, her hair became perfectly neat, shirt and robe floating into place over her head, leaving her looking as perfectly put together as when I walked in.

“I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

She reaches the door before she deigns to look over shoulder at me, almost as though it’s an afterthought.

“Oh, and do be on time.”