I clung to his body, scared that he was accepting me, scared that he might let go, but he only dropped a gentle kiss on my brow as I breathed into his shoulder. I let my hands trail over him cautiously, gently, and my lips followed more passionately, more firmly against his skin. He was not perfect, he was not pretty, but he was my god.

"You weren't like this when I last knew you." He chuckled, pulling me up for a peck on the cheek. "Maybe you weren't a slut back then," he mouthed against my neck.

I laughed breathlessly. "You just didn't know it. Besides, I was your student, and you were my teacher, and even when we spent every possible moment gazing at each other, we were still prim and proper about it." He nodded, confirming my suspicions. "You have no idea how many classes I spent melting over your voice though, wondering if I could orgasm simply by listening to you utter a litany of filth into my ears."

He leaned back against the bookshelf. "You did that?" He shook his head in disbelief. "And here I thought you were enjoying learning English..."

"I was!" Then. "It's not my fault I was enjoying you too." I stuck my tongue out at him, childishly. He chose that moment to move in for a kiss.

I pulled away, panting, and pressed up against him. "If you're in such a hurry, you could have told me." I smirked up at him, and proceeded to attack him with my teeth and lips and fingers.

Just as he began arching into my ministrations, he pushed my head away. "I want to fuck you."

"Oh?" He wasn't smiling, and it caught me off guard.

"I want to claim you, own you. I want your soul."

"Last time I checked, that's slavery."

"So is love."

I nodded, acquiescing. "I'm all yours."