Moonlit Surrender

She sat at her usual seat now, in the front row of Intro to Philosophy where months ago, at the beginning of this strange semester, Lucy had once dreaded being so visible and unhidden. She was attentive in her note taking of Professor Wright's lecture, and also of making sure her legs were resting open just enough he could catch a clear view of the black lace of her thong under her skirt. She caught his eyes drifting when there was a natural pause down to her now almost healed bruised knees spread for him, to her clear blue eyes following him, and sometimes to her glossy crimson lips when he caught her grinning his way knowingly. She had never felt so seen, and how curious it was she had been so frightened of it for so long. She no longer wanted to melt into the crowd or hide away in the back of a room. She wanted to be right here under John's gaze, seen and vulnerable, all her secrets open to him, just the way she had felt when she had been naked and spread open on his bed touching herself for him.

Lucy heard her phone hum somewhere in the recesses of her purse. She ignored it initially, but then it hummed a couple more times. Wanting to make sure she wasn't missing something important, she leaned out of her chair to dig around until she found it, the screen lit up with notifications of missed texts from Ben.

Is there something u want 2 tell me about?

I found ur fucking box of goodies under the bed.

Lucy felt her heart stop. He had found her secret wand. As she read several other texts of him tearing into her, for keeping a secret from him, for lying, for cheating on him with a stick of glass, dread filled her heart more and more. There was a dark humor, though, in the fact she hadn't touched the toy in a while now, not with the even darker secret she had keeping her occupied late at night.

She did her best to apologize, but it was obvious he was in an angry frenzy. There was a part of her that understood though, and almost empathized. He loved her. For whatever faults there were in their relationship, she did not doubt his love. Something in her had been woken now though, something that would not be stuffed away back in that beat-up photo box with her once-secret toy. She felt tears press at the backs of her eyes as she realized his greatest fear for their relationship had come true, the thing she had denied away and reassured him over for years now: he was no longer enough.

As she apologized and owned up to the lie she had been holding onto for so long, as his flurry of texts slowed and he seemed to calm down at least marginally, though his anger was still clear, she could feel the end looming over her. She could feel it in her heart, but didn't dare think it. She sighed the weight off her chest as she heard Professor Wright's voice return to the foreground and realized she had missed a huge portion of his lecture. He was wrapping up now and the room was filled with the hushed stirring of people packing their things away and getting ready to leave.

She looked up and saw his piercing gaze settled on her and as the rest of her peers rose to exit, he commanded over their growing noise, "Miss Beckett, I'd like to have a word with you. Don't go anywhere." She felt some curious eyes land on her from the strangers moving past her seat, but none were as unsettling as the molten gray ones at the front of the class. She felt her phone buzz again and glimpsed the message lighting up the inside of her purse, Ben again. Ben: Don't stay late 2 study 2nite. We need 2 talk about this.

Lucy: Be home soon. Class almost over.

The last of her classmates filed out and she watched John kick the stopper out from under the door so it closed with a loud click, sealing them off from the rest of the world, then returned to the front of the room.

"Leave your things and come here." His voice was low, darkened by the tone of command in his words. Some invisible switch had been flipped and he was no longer Professor Wright, but the dark and sensual creature that delighted in bringing her to her knees. The facade of normality was gone. What remained in the room was a ravenous vampire, albeit in a fancy silk tie, and his willing thrall.

She set her purse and messenger bag of books and papers down and approached the front of the room. She stood before him, waiting for his next words, but he was silent, instead taking his time looking her over, one hand delicately touching her like she was a fragile glass sculpture he was appreciating. His fingers slid through the black tresses of hair spilling over her shoulder and then tickled up her neck and brushed over her lips. His eyes slid down over the peek of cleavage her tight cardigan offered, then down to the black pleated skirt that stopped mid-thigh. His fingertips touched the soft warmth of her inner thigh, but then he pulled away.

"Did you read your syllabus at the beginning of the year like a good girl?" he asked sternly.

She looked up at him confused, then wondered if she was in trouble instead of him simply wanting to touch her. "I did," she answered cautiously.

"Then I'm even more disappointed in you. You should know there is a strict no phones policy in my classroom, Miss Beckett."

Disappointed? No. Anything but that. The crack she felt in her chest from those words hit her so much harder than the slew of betrayed texts she had just read from her fiancé. She couldn't think about that this second though. "I-I'm so sorry. I forgot. I wouldn't have, it was just-"

"Was it an emergency?" he asked.

Though it had certainly been important, she would not have called it an emergency. As upset as Ben was, he wouldn't have died if she had simply waited to respond to him. Choosing to keep the content of the texts to herself, she simply shook her head contritely as she stared down at the toes of her chunky heel platforms.

He did not chastise her further, perhaps sensing the depth to which she felt his disappointment. She felt the knuckle of his forefinger slip under her chin to bring her face up to meet his and then reached down and grabbed her right hand in his and slipped a marker in her palm. "To the whiteboard," he instructed.

She had questions, but chose to quietly obey.

"One hundred lines of 'I will not text in class'. Neatly now, and in cursive."

She hesitated a moment. Ben had asked her to come directly home.

He bent down to her and rasped low in her ear, more smoke and fire in his voice than Hell itself, "Is there a problem?"

She felt an all too familiar tingling that was quickly becoming a habit in his presence, possibly even an addiction now.

Thinking of Ben, she told herself it really, is out of my control if my professor makes me stay after class. And I got in trouble for replying to Ben's text and Ben knew I was in class. This isn't my fault. This shouldn't take that long anyway. "No, sir," she answered meekly.

He nodded and then sat down at his desk and waited for her to begin writing before he turned to a stack of papers to grade. The room was filled with silence, but for the occasional squeak of the dry erase marker or the scratch of John's pen. Then she thought this is way better than going home to the massive argument waiting for me. I should try to get him to raise it to two hundred lines.

An amused snort escaped her.

"Something funny?" he asked, turning in his chair to observe her once more.

"No, sir," she answered softly.

She heard the creak of his chair as he rose and then the carefully paced steps of his shoes on the classroom's tile as he approached her.

"Do you find this entertaining? Are you tickled, dear?"

She felt the breath of his words against her hair as he stopped just behind her. Before she could answer, he continued.

"I told you at the beginning of the semester to take this class seriously, did I not? I told you that you would marry yourself to your education. When your body is in this room, there is nothing more important than your studies. Not your phone, and certainly not being a naughty girl and showing your professor what shade of black your panties are tonight," he growled in her ear as his hand slid up the side of her thigh and under her skirt until his palm rested on the waistband of her thong stretched over her hip.

She felt her eyes flutter closed reflexively as she melted under his touch and leaned backwards into the hard wall of his body.

"I should make you write new lines," his smoky voice growled. "Something more like, 'I will not be a little slut in class'."

She sighed as his lips brushed her neck and he inhaled the scent of her. "You like it," she accused before she even realized the words had slipped out.

His palm tightened on her hip and his nails dug into the sensitive skin. "You watch that sassy mouth of yours before I fuck it, young lady."

Her toes curled in her shoes and she felt her mouth watering at the thought of him forcing himself between her lips.

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He wrapped his hand around her loose hair and tugged her head to the side so he could pull down the collar of her cardigan and taste her shoulder and neck. His tongue ran over the soft skin of her neck until his lips touched the lobe of her ear and gently sucked on it. She thought, Vampire. What is it like to be bitten by him? Why hasn't he yet? So many opportunities. Should I ask?

She gasped in shock as she felt him snap the elastic of her thong so it fell away in pieces to the floor. "Continue writing," he ordered.

She shuddered as the cool air of the room hit her bare skin. "Yes, sir."

He pulled away from her as she continued writing her lines on the board and his hands lifted her skirt high around her waist so the hem barely reached down to the top of her ass. "Lean forward." He grabbed both sides of her hips to guide her into the position he desired and then kicked her legs open so she stood arching her back, her free hand propping herself up on the whiteboard, with her feet spread wide.

She felt each of his palms grope the top of the backs of her thighs where they connected to the soft bubble of each ass cheek, then he slid both of his thumbs between them to part her open. Her breath caught in her throat as he exposed her and then a soft curse slipped out as she felt his mouth nestle into her parted pussy lips. He paused only for a moment to remind her to keep writing, then resumed his slow licks and suction. Each letter Lucy scrawled on the board began to grow sloppier as her hand shook and it grew more difficult to focus on anything other than the feel of his tongue gliding over her opening and clit or the way his nails dug into her tender skin to hold her open to him.

Moans began to rise out of her and she rocked forward onto her toes as they curled in her heels again, raised up high on her platforms for his feasting. Her hand supporting her caved and she fell forward onto her forearm, arching deeper into his intimate kiss as she stared at the marker tip shakily gliding about an inch away from her face.

She felt the pleasure coursing through her and felt her whole body begin to vibrate and tense as she grew closer to the edge and silently wondered if he would demand she hold herself back or set her free to careen off of it. His tongue and teeth and suction did not falter for a second, instead burying himself deeper into her slick folds the louder she grew. His nails bit deeper into her ass, but the pain only seemed to excite her further and she wondered if he had known it would. His mouth pulled away momentarily, "Let me taste your orgasm, Lucy. Come for me now." Then his clever mouth was back on her pussy.

The marker fell from her weak grip and her cheek fell forward onto the cool surface of the board as she cried out between her groans and gasps, "Yes, sir!" There was magic in his words and she had not once found herself able to resist the gentle command from him. Her other palm flew up to hold her steady as her knees buckled and she cried out in ecstasy. He caught her in his strong hands and supported her as she shuddered through each consequential wave of pleasure that rippled through the aftershock. First it was simply his palms holding her up, and then he was behind her, pulling her upright to fall back into him as his hands wandered over her body.

"Good girl," he whispered in her ear.

Before she could respond, she heard his breathy chuckle and opened her eyes to see what had inspired it. Just as she was about to ask, she saw in the shakiest handwriting scrawled out in front of her, "I'm your little slut." "Are you now?" he grinned in her ear.

The way her body caught fire under his touch, the way her pulse quickened, and all the filthy things that bounced around in her imagination when she thought of him, all pointed to the affirmative. "Yes, sir," was all she could utter breathlessly. He sighed onto her neck and squeezed her back against his body tightly to feel his stiff erection stabbing into her scraped buttocks. One hand left her and reached under her thick hair to grab a fistful close to her scalp. He yanked her head back roughly and then turned her around and crushed her between the whiteboard and his immovable body with a deep and sensual kiss. One hand settled around her throat and the other groped its way up her thigh and flipped the hem of her skirt up again. Quickly, he opened his slacks and pulled his stiff cock out, pulled her right leg up around his waist, and then slid himself into her warmth with a slow and deep groan.

She gasped as she was suddenly stretched into his shape. Her hands fluttered to his broad shoulders to dig into the royal purple of his dress shirt and then felt both of his hands slide under her ass and pull her up to wrap her other leg around him. Pinned between the wall and his impassioned thrusts, she was completely and utterly trapped, and surrendered to his rhythm with breathy sighs and desperate moans as their eyes settled on one another.

So lost in the moment she did not notice the classroom door opening until the night custodian was already standing in the doorway with his cart of cleaning supplies, staring slack jawed at the scene he had stumbled upon. "John!" she gasped, turning his attention to the door as well.

Though it was obvious he was caught off guard too, he calmly set her back down on her feet to hastily tug her skirt down as he turned to tuck himself back into his slacks for the moment, then crossed the room to the shocked custodian who couldn't seem to stop eyeing Lucy. "I'd appreciate it if you'd come back later," John glowered towards the man, pushing him out of the room with nothing more than a stern scowl, then pulled the door tightly shut before crossing the room back to her.

Lucy laughed nervously, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, and her hand covered her face.

He smiled warmly as he tugged her hand away. "You have nothing to be embarrassed of. If anything, you just made his night. Getting to see a beautiful woman in the throes of passion is a treasure."

She wasn't entirely sure she agreed with him just yet, her mortification not so easily dismissed, but the fact he thought she was beautiful and something special to witness was more important than whatever shame she felt at a total stranger having glimpsed something so private.

He wasted no time in pulling her to him once more, groping and squeezing and tasting. This time he pressed her against the edge of his desk and was beginning to open his slacks once more but halted when he heard her soft utterance. "I want you to taste me," she sighed against his lips.

"I have," he answered, "and you are absolutely delectable, dear." His deft fingers slipped open the buttons of her black cardigan effortlessly and slid his hand inside to find nothing more than a lacy bra and her warm skin beneath his hands. "I know that," she said. "I mean... I want you to bite me."

He pulled away from her, his ever-calculating slate eyes staring down at her with a suddenly dour expression. "No."

"Why not?" she questioned. "Please. I want you to."

"Because you are not prey. You're more than that. I will not."

"Aren't I though?" she grinned mischievously. His lips tightened, obviously unamused, but still she pushed it further. "I want to give it to you. A gift, like when I obey you."

"It's nothing like that. It's a difficult appetite to control. I could hurt you or go too far."

"But haven't you been doing it with Doris?" she asked, confused. "You haven't hurt her."

There was a low growl in the depths of his chest, something animalistic. It was a warning of the frustration building in him. She was pushing too far. "I have. Doris' morbid fascination with the occult has left her seriously wounded on multiple occasions. She gambles with her life for a dark and unnatural high, flirting with monsters and the death they bring. I will not subject you to the same violence."

She held tighter to him as she felt him pulling away. She bit her bottom lip and looked down bashfully, a note of shame in her voice as she confessed softly, "I like your violence."

"Lucy," he sighed, stepping back into her arms.

She looked up at him, more vulnerable in this unholy confession than she had felt during any games they had played so far. This was the more she had searched for. It was not more love. It was not more money or stability. It was not more sex. It was more passion, a reckless amount of it, to the point of brutality. She needed this rough love she had never known existed. She needed his commands and his rules. She needed the boundaries he set and the place he put her in. She needed the need he awakened in her.

He seemed to internally struggle with himself as he held her, then finally he answered, "Not here. It's too dangerous to risk being seen. Remember, our secret?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir. I remember. No one can know about what you really are. Your life depends on it."

He looked down at her, unguarded and with so much warmth in his eyes she was positively sure somewhere deep inside him still resided a soul just as filled with life as her own. His hands moved from the delicate cradle he held her in to refasten the buttons of her cardigan and straighten her skirt and mussed hair, and after knocking away the wrinkles on his own person said, "Come with me," and led her out of his classroom.