Disclaimers; The idea of "Professor Bowie" is not mine, I'm just borrowing it. Basically it's a look of David's that some friends on Tumblr have dubbed "Professor" because he looks like a college professor...and most of these fics are naughty. Also, nonconsentual sex is involved. The professor's pissed off. If you don't like situations like these, read no further. You've been warned.

Lessons

You're daydreaming in his class again. It's too nice a day to be stuck inside a classroom, learning about writing. You know how to write, but your aunt thinks you can do better than what you do. She decides that you needed to fine tune your craft and take writing lessons.

So, since it's free and she's paying for it, you find yourself in school this summer instead of at the beach with your friends. You cross one leg over the other, your high heel bouncing rhythmically.

You can hear his British accent as it breaks into your thoughts of rum and juice on the beach. You happen to glance over once, he's instructing the class on how to write a decently portrayed serial killer. You snort once, then go back to your daydreams.

Writing classes. Please.

Tucking your chin into your hand you focus on the cover band that you're going to see with your best friends tonight. You've heard they're pretty good, and they match the rock band that decorates your wall. You can't wait to let loose tonight.

Wham.

You jump as a thick, heavy book is smacked down onto your desk, a few inches away from your free hand. The Professor is staring down at you, his lip curled and jagged teeth showing. He looks super pissed. You find your eyes going up, up and shrinking back a little.

"My dear, are we interrupting your precious schedule of looking blank and staring at my walls?"

There's sarcasm in his voice and you find yourself swallowing. You always thought he'd make the perfect villein in a story. Some you've even wrote about and hid in your diary. Those you won't be showing anyone.

"I—I'm sorry, Professor." You manage to say. The few students in the class look relieved that his anger is directed at you instead of them. You find one hand twirling up to your hair, brushing the long locks back. "I didn't mean to waste your time-"

"Yes, yes. Waste my time is exactly what you've been doing, young lady. I think you know that well enough by now. See me after class."

There's no room for discussion in his voice. "But-"

"I said see me after class." His eyes lock on you and you can only stare back at the mismatched eyes, wondering how that happened. You nod once and drop your eyes from him. He turns and goes back on with his lecture.

You try to pay a little more attention in class, and manage to get the assignment for tonight down. You've got to make your own serial killer and write a 300 word story on it. Piece of cake, you think as you eye the Professor. You've already got your perfect villain right there.

When he dismisses the class, you gather your things together slowly and dump them into your beach bag. You're ready to go and you watch as he slowly cleans off his desk. He puts papers in a certain order, folders next. You raise a brow and wonder if he's a little OCD. Finally, you walk over to the desk and clear your throat.

He slaps a folder down.

You try again.

He turns. "Oh I'm sorry. Are you late for something?" There's no way he's sorry, he's too smug and rude about it.

"Yes, I am." You say feeling angry. "I am late for something."

"Good. Now you know what it feels like, you git for keeping me waiting all week when you fail to show up on time to my class!" He's turned and you raise your eyes to meet his.

You don't know what to say for a moment. Your mouth opens, but nothing comes out and you get the feeling you look a bit like a fish so you close it. Finally, you speak. "Professor, I'm sorry I've been late to class. It's summer and these classes are electives more or less-"

"And more or less you don't want to be here, I take it. Rather you'd be on the beach perfecting your skin cancer and drinking yourself into oblivion like all the other dumb, American beach bunnies?"

Oh. Ouch.

You wince, but then shrug. Why not? That's what you're here for. "Yes! Excuse us Americans for liking the sun. You know, you should try it once in a while. You won't look so pasty and white and old!" You flare out.

His eyes grew wide with surprise, anger. He strides to the door of his classroom and shuts it.

It sounds like a gunshot. You jump a little.

"I've had just about enough of you're mouth." The professor stalks towards you and you take one step back, then another. You tumble into the desk and catch yourself. With every step back you take he takes one towards you so that you two are touching chests.

There's no room to back up.

"I think my dear." The Professor says in a rather silky voice "You should learn some manners. Didn't your mother ever teach you to-"

"What, respect my elders?" You whip out without thinking. You feel smug and confident, knowing he doesn't seem to like that-

He grabs you by the shoulders. His grip is firm, his fingers long and elegant are digging into your shoulders. You wince. "You annoying, rude little chit."

"How do you think I feel? You're calling me stupid!" You exclaim.

"You act like it! You waste my time and everyone else's and you do have the talent to be a writer if you would just apply your bloody self!" He shakes you and you don't know where this is going. You suck in a breath and wait.

But he seems to realize what he's doing and lets you go, running his hands through his otherwise perfect hair. He paces in front of you, muttering under his breath. Then, he grabs you again and stares you down and you don't know what to expect, if he's going to hit you or-

His mouth finds yours, lips over yours and its so surprising you don't know what to do. For a moment you're stunned and look up but he's mouth presses against yours again, tongue searching for yours.

You let the kiss happen then your hands go up to push him off you. What the hell? You're dazed, confused.

He's breathing hard and glares down at you like it's your fault.

The. Fuck.

"I—I-" You stutter.

"No fancy comeback now love?" His voice is low, soft and amused. He's got you backed into the proverbial wall and knows it.

You wonder if you hate him.

"You just kissed me."

"Well, yes I did." He agrees. He seems to be waiting and then moves in. He yanks you to him and you're pressed up against his chest tightly. His hand snakes into your hair and pulls it, tilting your head back.

You gasp as he kisses trails down your face, and licks your throat. He lets go of your hair and you find yourself kissing him back now. He puts you onto the desk and moves closer, and your legs wrap around him. You're kissing your professor.

There's something wrong about this and you want to push him away but oh dear God above this kiss is amazing. You try to pull away a little, but he holds you firmly in place and takes your legs, wrapping them back around his waist.

He's kissing you again and you shudder. "Time to teach you a lesson." He picks you up with your legs still wrapped around him and there's a slight bolt of this is wrong, this is wrong, going through your mind but you don't stop him.

He holds you against the wall. He moves you slightly and you watch as he hurries to unbuckle your pants. "Wait I haven't-"

But his pants are coming undone and you can see it and you snatch a quick breath. He fumbles with your skirt, yanking it down and you feel a rush of cold air and his fingers yank your panties down and you feel them enter.

Oh. Oh. Your eyes close, head tilts back and you let out a whimper as his fingers slip into the silky folds of skin. He finds something and you arch against him wanting more. Oh, your mind is slowly slipping into oblivion and then he removes them and-

Your eyes snap open and you're about to speak. "What, wait-"

He's intent on this. "Shh." He warns and then he drops your legs to the ground.

You look up at him curiously, but then you feel him push you back against the wall. One hand holds you in place and then he slips himself between your legs. There's a shocking feeling of him between you, and then you feel it and there's a searing pain.

You cry out and try to push him off. "Don't, stop!" But it's kind of too late to stop you have that moment of fear of the unknown.

He's thrusting inside you now and he's holding you against the wall. You try to hit him but it's like a fly landing on a horse's tail and being flicked away. He's too strong. You sag against the wall and close your eyes.

You feel a hand cup your breast, his calloused thumb rolling over your nipple. You gasp for a different reason and then his other hand cups your other breast, paying attention to it. Your legs tremble.

He stops his thrusting and pulls out of you. For a split second you consider running and he's eying you as though he guesses that's what you will do. Then, he yanks you by your hair. You gasp, and try to fight your way from him. He's pushing you to the floor.

You have no choice but to lay down on the floor, and he removes your shirt. Now you're naked on the floor and at his mercy. He's removing his shirt now and you notice how lean and broad he is. You've never noticed that before, not with him wearing those stuffy clothes of his. He's got strong, well shaped thighs. Your eye travels down to his manhood. He's watching your every movement, breathing hard.

He bends over and forcibly kisses you, his mouth set in a smirk. You turn your head as to deny him but his hands force your head back to his view. He takes your hands and brings them to his chest, closing his eyes.

Your eyes close as well and you feel his hand covering yours, slowly sliding it down his chest. It's going lower and lower. You feel him cup your hand around his package, feeling it come to life. You try to yank away but he forces your hand back and lets out a soft moan.

He bends over and drops your hand and gives you another hard kiss before swiftly entering you. You cry out and he thrusts hard into you. Your eyes snap shut and you can hear him mumble something that you can't make out. "Come."

At first you're not sure what he said but then you realize. "I'm not sure..." You trail off.

He lets out a tutting sound and shakes his head, grunting hard. He pushes more into you and you cry out, your body not used to being filled like this. He starts to move faster, and mutters more things you can't hear.

"Come!"

He seems to give up then and you feel something warm and wet. Your eyes open and you look up at the Professor. He seems calmer now and leans over you for a second, catching his breath. He props his hand on the carpet next to you. Then he pulls out and rolls over next to you.

Neither one of you speak for a few moments.

Then, you're up on your feet and looking frantically for your clothing that's been discarded. He props himself up and watches with amusement.

"And where are you going?"

"Away! I can't believe you just did that!" You yell. You feel violated as you should. If this had to happen you would have at least wanted to fully participate. "That was my first time and I didn't even say yes."

"You kissed me back." He says nonchalantly.

"So! That doesn't mean I wanted to sleep with you, you..." You trail off and find your skirt slipping into it.

"Please. You are making far too much of this. It had to happen eventually, right?" Now he sits halfway up and reaches for his pants, pulling out a package of cigarettes. You watch as he gets one out and lights it.

"To someone I choose! Not my dirty old professor!" You yell.

Something flashes across his face and before you know it he flings the package of cigarettes at you. You're surprised as it bounces off your head. What. The. Hell.

You watch as he rises like a slinky cat and walks towards you. You stand your ground though you're trembling. He yanks your arm and pulls you towards him.

"You. Wanted. It."

Your hand shoots out and slaps him across the face. He's surprised, but doesn't let go. Instead he laughs. "You practically came onto me all week. Sitting there in that desk crossing your legs. Watching me...not to mention the little story of yours I found. You think I'm a villain do you?" He laughs once and lets you go.

You rub your arm and watch as he stalks towards the desk. He roots through something and pulls out a piece of paper. He begins to read.

"He's a jerk. He acts high and mighty because he's had some things published, a novel that I've read over and over. Not to mention when he used to be a singer... Who knew that the novel I loved to read was written by such a jerk? Fame does go to some people's heads. He's a stereotypical villain. He'd be scary enough for any horror movie..."

Shit. He'd found that page you wrote instead of the boring ass assignment he'd given the class a few days ago. You swallow. "So? I'm allowed to have my own thoughts. And it's true. If I'd known someone I used to admire was like the way you are now I don't think I would have given you the time of day!"

He smirks, and chuckles. "So you're standing half naked in my classroom and telling me that? Pity love, I don't believe you. You resisted at first but you wanted it too." He sits naked in his chair and looks at you across the room.

You're fuming. You can't find your bra but you find your shirt and yank it on. You smooth out your skirt, run a hand through your messed up hair. "I could get you fired for this. You're not a rock star anymore."

He looks up, and his eyes turn dark. You've mentioned a part of his past he'd rather forget. "You won't do that."

"And why not?" You demand.

"Because you'll come back for this." He rises and walks over to you, and uses his thumb and forefinger to tilt your chin back sharply. "You'll come back for this."

"No I won't." You say. "I'm not one of your little groupies."

He smirks and tilts your head back again. You wince but won't give in to him.

"Come back to me, love. The next time will be different." His voice, so smooth feels like a warm blanket around you. You hate how you can hate him one moment and be attracted to him the next.

Ass.

You try to shake your head. "I won't. You raped me you jerk, you think I'd come back for more?"

You bring your leg out to kick him but he anticipates the movement and slides out of the way still holding your chin. He chuckles.

"Oh my little spitfire. I think you will come back. Now say it "Please professor, I will come back. I want you to make love to me until I can't see straight."

You'll never say that. You shake your head and he laughs, pulling you by the chin to him and kisses you. He lets you go. "Now, are you going to tattle on me love?"

You're undecided. "I should."

"But you won't."

But indeed, you won't. He shakes his head once and goes to his own clothing, slipping into the boxers, the pants. He puts the sweater on last. "Next time will be easier. And maybe if you're a good little girl we can make it a habit. Maybe even at my place, once."

You swallow back your words and find yourself asking, "When?"

He smiles as though he's got you and maybe he has. "I'll let you know." He says. "And my dear? You're excused." He walks back over to you fully clothed now and leans down to kiss your forehead. "I think your lesson has been well spent."

And oddly enough, so do you.

FIN.