First of a series of two (possibly more) that are completely unrelated but are similar.

You sigh as you look out the window. It's dark outside, almost midnight. You think about the self-defense class you have tomorrow afternoon. The teacher, Dirk Strider, often goes to weirdly drastic measures to teach in completely unorthodox methods. Last week he had his best friend, an adventurous and dangerous Englishman who was blindingly fast and hella strong, assault each of you one on one in an empty room.
He called it 'sparring' but that's really what it was. An assault.
Something moves behind you and you jump, but before you can turn around a blindfold is tied tightly around your eyes. You wish you had been wearing your glasses right then. Someone grabs your arm, shoving you into the wall. You cry out, but you know no one's going to be able to hear you.
A low, unfamiliar voice murmurs in your ear, lips brushing your skin as they trail up your neck. "Hush, pretty boy. No one can hear you."
He bites down hard on your collar, leaving a dark mark as he slowly licks over it, hot tongue slowly caressing your neck and throat to your jaw.
You make feeble noises, attempting to find your voice. "P-please, stop it, d-don't!" You stutter out, wriggling against him.
He runs a hand through your dark hair, tightening his grip and dragging your head backwards as he presses his hips into yours. He softly bites on your neck, catching both your tendon and your jugular and making you stiffen in fear. You let out a whimper, tears stinging at your eyes.
He pauses for an endless moment, applying the smallest amount of pleasure as he hesitates. Then he pulls away, spinning you around and slamming you onto your back on the wall, much more aggressive now. He grinds his hips against yours, biting and marking your neck as your teeth sink into your lip to shut yourself up. Moans would only egg him on.
You try to push against him, get him off of you, but when you do he rolls his hips harder and it makes you cry out.
His lips suddenly attack yours, tongue dancing and swirling around your mouth as you gasp and whine in protest. You subconsciously note he tastes vaguely like apples.
His hands grab your waist and he pulls out of the rough kiss, twisting and throwing you onto what you assume is the bed. You jerk upwards only to be met by something warm and solid, you figure he's above you. He rips your shirt over your head, and your blindfold is shifted temporarily so you get a glimpse of crimson eyes but nothing else as he puts it back in place. He ties it even tighter, so it starts to hurt your head.
"So tantalizing..." His warm hands run over your body, a guttural growl emanating from his throat before he leans down, licking up your chest ever so slowly.
You whimper, but you can't do much more than submit. He licks up the underside of your chin, making a straight wet line from your lips to your waistband, but stops there in favor of hissing into your ear again. "You call yourself a student of mine? You coward. You didn't even fight back."
You freeze, putting the pieces into place. "...M-Mr. Strider?!"
"The one and only, Egbert. You're going to fail my class if you keep treating life like a game."
"What the hell?! You break into my house and almost fucking rape me, and you try to tell me it's for my self-defense class?!" You yell, outraged. "What the fuck kind of teacher are you?!"
His lips meet yours again in a short kiss, and it's sweet and chaste, taking you by surprise.
"I would only ever do this with you, John." He purrs, voice smooth and seductive.
He pulls off your blindfold as you stammer. "I just love your eyes..."
"B-but-"
He cuts you off with a finger on your lips. "You can't honestly say you don't feel the same, John... You know you want me..."
You're so confused right now. You know you kinda like him, but this whole situation has spoiled your image of him. What if he's lying, what if he does this to all his students?
He looks as if he's reading your mind. "I would never lie to you."
You pause for a moment before threading your fingers through his pale blond hair and pulling him into a kiss. You don't care what he did, it's only because he cares about your safety, right?
Seeming pleased, he kisses you back with fervor, grinding his hips into yours. You pick up where you let off, and you slide your hands up his shirt, pulling the fabric with it. You glance back up at his hungry red eyes and wonder how you never noticed them before. He always wore his shades, and honestly he wore a lot of orange. You figure if you were an ironic strider guy with red eyes you'd wear lots of red.
You're drawn out of your thoughts with a low purr from Dirk (you can call him Dirk, right? No more Mr. Strider?), and you gasp and moan as he palms you through your jeans. You wrap your arms around his neck, arching as he continues.
This only lasts a few minutes, as he gets impatient and unbuttons them, and discards them along with your boxers and his own jeans. He grips the bedsheets, rutting his hips against yours and making you crave more contact. You whine with need, and he can wait no longer. He scrambles out of his boxers, pausing for only a moment to grab something from somewhere - you honestly don't care - and kiss you as you hear a bottle being opened near your head. Suddenly he pulls back, making eye contact with you as he slides a finger into you slowly, up to the knuckle. You roll your head back, moaning low and heady as he adds a second. The pace is unbearable but you know well enough that if he rushes it you'll regret it later on.
He runs his fingertips over your prostate and your fingers dig into the sheets as you arch your back, howling with pleasure and want. It's unbelievable that he could fit a third into you but he does, and you inadvertently buck your hips as you start feeling very filled. He groans, removing his fingers and pausing for a moment to lube himself up before he pushes into you, kissing you again. You moan, loud into his mouth, as he fills you up completely. God, do you love it.
Your moans raise not only in volume but in pitch as well as he thrusts with long, powerful strokes you expected from such a man. He moans with you, voice deep compared to your wavering one. He moans your name, about how tight you are and how good you feel, and it just makes it that much better knowing he's getting it good too.
All of a sudden he thrusts directly into your prostate and you practically scream, pleasure arcing through you in a concentrated bolt. He brings on the whole storm, hitting that spot dead on every time and making you shudder with every rippling shock.
You know you're close when the ripples start ascending into waves, dragging you up to a crest. He's close as well, chanting your name over and over as his pace quickens to the almost-frantic setting, his own moans rising rapidly in pitch. He buries himself deep inside you and God you feel it, dragging your nails down his slick back as you're dragged right over that crest and howl wordlessly, coming onto your stomach and chest. He cries out as you tighten around him, filling you up impossibly more as he follows suit.
Your limbs feel like jelly for a few moments as he pants heavily, pulling out and flopping next to you, taking you into his arms as you curl into him and fall asleep.

The next morning, you wake to see him slipping on his clothes. There's bright light coming in through the window and it takes you a minute to realize the man you just slept with was not, in fact, Dirk Strider.
He looks almost panicked as he realizes you're awake, slipping on his tee shirt and a pair of shades that look nothing like Dirk's.
You stare. "Wh-who are you?"
"M'name's Dave Strider. Dirk's younger brother. I didn't lie to you, John... Not technically... I am the co teacher to his class. I've watched you for awhile, even though you never noticed me once. I just hope you don't hate me for what I did. I wasn't thinking straight last night, I'm sorry."
"I couldn't hate you, not with that dick." You snicker, and he raises an eyebrow. He smirks, tossing you your clothes. "Get dressed, it's almost time for class."