Disclaimer: Junjou Romantica belongs to Shungiku Nakamura, not me.
***PLEASE NOTE! This story is rated MA. It's short but gets detailed. Don't like, don't read.***
A Student In Peril
Miyagi-kyouju's low, rumbling voice resounded throughout the lecture hall. The soothing sound fell on her ears, but she wasn't listening to a single word. Her eyes watched, enraptured, as long fingers slid through black hair; pointed at the board at the front of the class; tried to express deep, poetical meanings with their gesticulations; ran lovingly over paper and turned pages carefully, reverently.
She couldn't take her eyes off those fingers. The strong but slender digits were flaunting themselves with confidence, boasting their intellectual prowess, claiming integrity and innocence, and yet, she knew better. She knew they were lying; beyond their intellectualism, they also held a different, sordid kind of prowess.
She couldn't erase the image in her mind of them in an altogether different setting, would never ever be able to forget…
She knocked gently on the office door, clutching her recently returned essay in her hand. No-one opened the door, and yet she was sure she could hear noises, movement inside the room. She knocked a little louder: still no answer. Hesitating for a moment, she made up her mind to enter and slowly twisted the door knob, pushing the door open in front of her.
She stopped and looked up suddenly as she heard a low cry. Her eyes widened and her voice caught in her throat as she beheld the scene in front of her.
A dark-blonde boy was perched on the edge of Miyagi-kyouju's desk. His trousers and underwear were gathered around his ankles, his knees pushed apart as far as they could go while his legs were still trapped in his clothes.
His eyes were closed and his mouth hung open, forming a kind of 'O' shape as his tongue crept forward to lick his lips. He tilted his head back as he released another low moan of pleasure.
His whole body was tense, jerking and shuddering without rhythm, and her eyes were caught by the flicker of motion. Looking down, she suddenly covered her mouth with her hands to stifle her gasp of shock. The boy's right hand was wrapped around his cock and was tugging, pumping himself viciously, squeezing the bulbous head with the tips of his fingers.
But that wasn't all. The very man she had come to see, the wise Literature professor, Miyagi-kyouju, was pressed up against the boy's side. His right hand seemed to be caught in the boy's hair, holding his head in place as he worried the sensitive skin on his neck.
His left hand… His left hand was buried between the boy's legs, two fingers inserted fully up to the knuckle inside him. She watched, whether in horror or fascination she didn't know, as her professor slid a third finger inside and began to rotate them, rubbing against the boy's pleasure spot.
Miyagi was panting hard too, she suddenly realised, as his tortured breaths fell from his lips, interspersed with low ejaculations of his lover's name.
The boy was called Shinobu.
Miyagi-kyouju usually gave passionate lectures, his voice injected with all the joy and enthusiasm he felt for literature and poetry; now, however, there was a new timbre to his voice, one that she hadn't heard before. Fierce hunger and unbridled lust dominated his tone now, and whatever words he was speaking in that voice into the boy's ear seemed to be having a tremendous effect, as Shinobu was now shaking and moaning even louder.
Miyagi's mouth moved from the boy's ear to cover his mouth, his tongue dipping into the moist warmth, and he pressed himself, still fully clothed, even closer to Shinobu, pushing his hips forward, causing his groin to rub against the boy's thigh.
His long, skilled fingers, still buried deep inside Shinobu, pushed in and out of him even faster.
She had stood as still as a statue, a frozen witness to her professor's frantic groping of a much younger man; but as she slowly became aware that they were reaching their peak, she forced her stiff limbs to move and crept backwards out of the room.
With a trembling hand, she shut the door firmly behind her, cringing at the quiet sound of a muffled howl.
Shaking, she ran from the door as fast as she could…
She started as she realised that the rest of the class were gathering their belongings and making their way out of the lecture hall. She hadn't even noticed that the class had ended. She jumped up and started to follow everyone out when suddenly she heard that voice calling her name.
She looked round and saw Miyagi-kyouju's eyes fixed on her. She felt her face flush red as she stuttered in reply.
"Y-yes, Professor?"
"I read this article in the latest Literature journal, I thought you might like to read it as it fits very well with your last essay topic. I printed a copy for you, please take a look at it if you get time."
"Oh, thank you!" she replied.
She reached out to take the proffered paper, tensing slightly as his long fingers brushed slightly against hers.
I know where those fingers have been, she thought to herself. Shuddering at the image invoked by that thought, she snatched the paper, turned and fled the room, leaving a somewhat surprised and bewildered Literature professor behind her.