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alleiradayne · 5 years

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Hot For Teacher

Summary: Natalie Murphy is a new teacher on the Stanford campus and Sam offers to shower her the Green library. Square Filled: College AU Warnings/Tags: Semi-public sex, vaginal sex, dirty talk Characters/Pairings: Sam Winchester/Natalie Murphy (OFC) Word Count: 2,992 A/N: For @spnkinkbingo this fills the College AU square. And a giant thank you to @atc74 for beta’ing all of my shit lately. I also accidentally deleted this trying to edit it so if you get the notification and want to reblog it again, feel free. Song: Hot for Teacher by Van Halen.

“Sam? Are you… hello?”

Natalie crossed the threshold of Sam Winchester’s office as she knocked on the trim. “Are you in here?”

Stacks of books towered in piles, covering every inch of the floor and taking up every surface available. He had amassed a tiny library of his own over the years, his passion for knowledge boundless.

“Back here, Professor Murphy!”

Natalie followed the sound of his voice as she placed careful steps, navigating the maze of books. “You know, if I'm going to call you Sam, you can call me Natalie.”

Silence meet her ears as she listened, all sounds dampened by the heavy books that surrounded her. A rustle of paper from behind served as her only warning before Sam appeared with a book in hand, hair disheveled, and glasses askew.

“I know, Professor,” he started. “Found the book you mentioned.”

Mythical Creatures of the Renaissance rested in her hands at long last. “Oh, Professor Winchester, thank you so much! I've been digging through the library for weeks!”

“It's Sam,” he stated as he towered over her with his dimpled smile and brilliant hazel eyes. “And I found it right away. Our library is odd. If you want, I can show you around some time?”

His office had grown too hot in the span of a single heartbeat. It wasn't as if she hadn't noticed before, but so close, she consumed every single amazing thing about him. Perfect lips, gorgeous hair, strong jaw, and stronger shoulders. God, but he was massive.

“I’d like that, Prof-er, Sam. That would be very kind of you,” she said.

“Excellent,” he started as he headed for his desk. He picked out a scrap note card and scribbled on it. “Hand me your book?”

Natalie did as he asked, and Sam opened it in the middle, then placed the card in it. He snapped it shut and handed it back as he said, “I'll see you later.”

She tried to grab the book but instead touched more of his hand than she had bargained for. Fire lanced through her fingers and along her arm to send a rush of arousal straight to cunt.

In a sudden hurry to leave, Natalie rounded on her feet and made for the door, only to knock over a stack of books on her way out. “Shit… ah, sorry, Professor. Er, Sam.”

“It's fine, Natalie,” he excused as he rounded his desk. Near the door he knelt at her feet to pick up a few of the fallen books. In one giant hand, he held four of them, and once again, she realized too late that she stood close enough to smell his scotch and leather and parchment scent.

“You go enjoy your book,” he added as he stood, rising to his full height. “Let me know what you think of it?”

Natalie backed into the hallway as she stammered, “I will… thank you, Sam.”

“My pleasure.”

Green. 2am. Doors will be unlocked.

Natalie shoved the paper into the drawer of her desk and bit her bottom lip. Her watched showed a quarter to two. She had but five minutes to decide if she should go.

How dare he? How dare he presume with his stupid glasses and his stupid nose and his stupid gigantic hands. Hands big enough to wrap around her waist. Big enough to grab her by the ass and lift her onto a table and—

God dammit. There was no way. No. She wouldn't go, and she would scold him in the morning. Yes. He should be stripped of his tenure and fired. But she would at least allow him the dignity to quit on his own.

Maybe it would be best to put it to rest right then. She could meet him in the Library and tell him off for… for behavior unbecoming a tenured professor, taking advantage of a transferring instructor. That would be better. Yes. It was too risky to wait until morning. People might not believe her if she waited. Best if she took care of it immediately.

At least, that was what Natalie told herself as she threw on her leather jacket and stormed from her office.

The quad sprawled empty but for the straggling late-night researcher or reveler. Rousers of rabble dotted the sidewalks as they stumbled back to their campus homes after a Friday night of partying. A part of her missed those days. She felt as though she might have squandered her youth at MIT, attending too few parties and experiencing even fewer drunken nights.

But you don’t become a professor at Stanford by partying through your undergrad.

Before Natalie knew it, she stood at the large doors to the library, towering not unlike how Sam had towered over her in his office. Maybe he hadn’t meant to do it. Truth be told, he hadn’t exactly intimidated her. Hunched shoulders, a lowered head, and bent knees suggested he had done the exact opposite. He was intimately familiar with how intimidating he could be and had done everything possible to prevent that.

Why write the note then?

Natalie wrenched the handle and pulled the heavy door aside with a disgruntled growl. Excuses. Those were excuses and she was making every single one for him because… because somewhere in the back of her mind she hoped he was as sweet and kind and gentle as he outwardly seemed. She liked him, that was true. He had helped her ease into the department and get settled on campus. He cared deeply about his field of study and his cohorts.

Sam Winchester was an honest-to-god real-life Indiana Jones.

She shook the image from her mind as she stalked through the Library, emptier than the campus bars recently vacated, not a soul in sight. Up two sets up stairs, Natalie headed directly for the stacks as per Sam’s instructions. A single research lamp illuminated the space between two massive bookcases at least a hundred yards down the aisle. With a deep breath and a set jaw, she steeled herself for what she was about to do.

When she rounded the corner, Natalie stopped dead in her tracks. Sam at a large research table surrounded by books, one hand in his hair and the other scribbling away furiously on a notebook. He hadn’t noticed her, hadn’t heard her stomp around the shelves, and he clearly hadn't heard her indignant huff.

“Samuel!”

Sam shouted a bellow that startled Natalie so terribly, she shrieked. Her hand clamped over her mouth and cut off her ringing voice, only to tear it away as Sam began to laugh.

“Dear Lord, Natalie, you'd wake the dead with a scream like that,” he said as he clutched his chest.

“What is the meaning of this?!” she hissed as she brandished his note.

Sam took it and smiled. “It's easier to show you around when the place isn't crawling with undergrads. Here…” He stood and offered his hand. “Follow me.”

Serious. He had literally meant to show her around the Library. And she had assumed the worst.

“Sam, I am so sorry,” she started.

He approached her, his hand still held out for her to take. “For what? What could you possibly have to apologize for?”

She shook her head. “I… I came here to tell you off.”

A bewildered shake of his head loosened his too pretty hair from behind his ears. “What did I do to deserve that?”

“Nothing,” she started, “Absolutely nothing. You've been the perfect gentleman. I assumed the worst and—”

“The worst?” Sam interjected. “What do you…” Understanding widened his eyes as he quieted and gazed across the library. “Oh… you mean…”

She cringed at that, then turned for the stairs. “Yes… I'm so sorry, I should just go.”

“Natalie.”

She had barely taken a step. That rolling baritone with its subtle sub-Midwestern lilt suggested too much. But she stopped. Despite everything instinct screaming at hear to go, to leave, a little voice in the back of her head reminded her that he had been nothing but sincere. He had only intended to show her around the Library.

“You're not offended?” she asked.

Sam shook his head as he smiled. “Not in the slightest. Simple misunderstanding.”

Misunderstanding. “Have you ever done this before?”

“Uh…” Pink colored his nose and brow as his outstretched hand faltered. “No. Not… no.”

“Why are you helping me so much? First, you helped me move into my apartment,” she held up a finger, “then my office,” another finger, “then you show me around campus,” a third finger, “a list of the best restaurants in town,” a fourth finger, “and now you’re showing me the Library at… two o'clock… in the… morning.”

His face fell flat as an inquisitive brow crooked towards his hairline. “What’s your point?”

“You like me.”

She had muttered it under her breath, more for herself than for him. But Sam stepped closer and asked, “What was that?”

She looked up to him, understanding scouring her skin with gooseflesh. “You like me.”

“Of course I do, you’re a professor in my department and I hired you,” he stated. “Why wouldn’t I like you?”

Was he really that oblivious? “No, Professor. You like me. More than that. How many other instructors have you hired and helped move in or shown them around campus or given your list of favorite restaurants to?”

Sam searched the surrounding bookshelves for an answer. “They’re not my favorites…”

“Professor.”

“I mean, some of them are, but not all of them.”

“Professor Winchester.”

“The Italian one is actually my favorite, but the rest—”

“Sam!”

“I know! I get it! Yes! I like you! There! Happy?!” he spat. “Look, this was a bad idea, you were right. I’m just…”

When he turned around to gather his books, Natalie reached for his hand and grasped it. “Wait.”

He froze with a bout of tension seizing him in place as he glared over his shoulder. “What?”

“Why didn’t you just ask me to go out? Like on a date?” she asked.

“Uh, you’re my employee,” he started, “You said it yourself. Tenured professor using his position of power over his newly hired instructor to coerce her into having sex with him. The optics are not in my favor.”

Natalie tugged at his hand as she spoke. “But all the nice gestures are allowed so long as you don’t come knocking? That’s a little manipulative.”

“Look, Natalie, I never expected anything in return,” Sam stated as he straightened. “Ever. I know what it’s like to be all alone in a new place. If we had become friends, that’d be great. Other than that, I was just trying to be helpful. Kindness of my heart and all that.”

“Thank you,” she muttered to her feet. “For what it’s worth, I like you, too.”

“What?”

When he looked up to him, Natalie found his gaze blown wide as though she had two heads. “I… really like you,” she repeated with a scoff as her eyes slipped to his shoulders, his chest, passed his narrowed hips, down his long legs, then paused at his shoes. “A lot.”

His hand tightened around hers as Sam straightened from the table. He said nothing, but he didn’t have to. The furious shade of pink that covered his face, rushed through his neck, and colored his collar bone said all the words she needed to hear. He towered over her again, though this time he did nothing to hide his stature, standing tall and proud as he pressed himself flush to her chest. Waves of heat rolled from him, a walking furnace, and so close Natalie saw the subtle damp along the neck of his shirt. As she stared, a tentative fingertip traced the collar of her own shirt, following it over the swell of her breast to her sternum. An unbidden arch of her back pressed her closer as she gasped, and then everything happened at once.

Her jacket fell to the floor in a heap, but once Natalie had dealt with that, she wasted no time with discarding any other clothes. Sam picked her up, large hands grasping her ass, and set her on the research table as she tore at his belt. With the zipper undone, she shoved her hand down his pants and gasped as she found him stiffer than steel.

“Liar.”

Sam unfastened her jeans and rent them unceremoniously to her ankles as he said, “Am not.”

“Then when did this happen?” she asked as she stroked him through his boxers.

“Just now. You do that to me,” he said as he hooked his fingers into her underwear, “That’s what you’ve always done to me.”

She grasped him by the collar of his shirt and hauled him down to her lips for a bruising kiss, so rushed to make up for lost time. Sam’s tongue laved over her as her lips parted, his taste sweet, almost bitter. When he tugged at her underwear, Natalie parted from him with a surprised moan.

“What about all that talk about the sanctity of library,” he breathed against her lips.

“Forget the library,” she hissed as she jerked on his pants and pulled him between her thighs. “I want you to fuck me, Professor.”

Sam growled a throaty moan as he withdrew himself from his pants. Long and thick, he cut an impressive figure. And instead of removing her underwear, he wrenched them aside, the fabric cutting into her hips and drawing a seething breath between her clenched teeth. Christ, but he was big. Not that she couldn’t handle him. Good thing all he had to do was look at her to ruin her panties.

The swollen crown of Sam’s cock pressed to hear sopping cunt, and another unbidden moan rent from Natalie's pursed lips. She watched as he disappeared inside her, filling her inch by inch, until his pelvis meet hers and he moaned a sound so pathetic, she wouldn't have believed it was him if she hadn’t seen his face.

“Son of a bitch, Natalie, you feel fucking amazing,” he sighed as short rolls of his hips started his rhythm.

That terribly full sensation stretched her with such an arousing ache, Natalie could hardly think straight. “Holy shit, Sam, that's so good. You’re a big boy.”

The slap of his hands as they grasped her ass once more rang through the Library, and Natalie hoped to God they were alone. When Sam pinned her against a large bookcases, she grabbed his massive shoulders and held on as best she could.

There was no build up or easy crescendo to his pace. Sam pounded his cock into her pussy as hard and as fast as he could—surprisingly fast given their position—and Natalie succumbed to her arousal, that hazy, heady aroma of sweat, spit, and cum all mixing one indelible scent. The slap of their bodies echoed so loud, she wondered how anyone ever fucked in the stacks without getting caught, but that thought soon vanished when he grasped her hair at the back of her head and tilted her chin up to him.

“Your neck is perfect,” he sighed.

“Do you have a thing for vampires?” she panted between his thrusts.

A hungry lick of his lips clenched her pussy around him, and Sam winced as his hips stuttered. “I have a lot of things for mythical creatures.”

“Then bite me, Professor.”

His teeth sank into the flesh of her neck and Natalie grunted back her howl of pain. He soothed the sting with a suckle and long lick of his long tongue, then released her. His lips returned to hers once more for a deep kiss with tiny moans and fervent passes of tongues as Natalie’s hands dove into his hair. Softer than sin, she reeled in complete awe of it all. As each minute ticked by, Natalie drowned, sinking deeper and deeper into his lust filled kiss, his furious pounding, and her impending orgasm.

“Fuck, Sam, I'm so close,” she whispered, their kiss broken for much needed air.

“Professor,” he stated.

She grinned through her moan as she repeated him, “Professor, I’m gonna come.”

“Shit, that’s so hot,” he grunted, face buried in the crook of her neck. “Keep saying it.”

“Oh, Professor, I love your big fucking cock inside me,” she mewled, “Come for me, I want to feel you come in me, Professor.”

Sam’s hips stuttered once more, a hard flex rocking Natalie violently into her orgasm. Her head tossed back, and a long high moan reached the cavernous ceilings of the library as she came undone. Hot on her heels, the warmth of Sam’s orgasm filled her, his grunts and soft whimpers mingling with hers for a song so lewd, her cheeks stung.

Several long breaths traded between them before Sam and his blessed strength carried her back to the table. There, she looked up to find his hazel gaze so brilliant, the gold and blue and green shined even in the shadowy dark of the library. His lips found hers then for a tender kiss as he cupped her cheek, and Natalie all but melted into him.

Parted, Sam sighed as he withdrew from her and righted himself, pants fastened and shirt smoothed. Natalie rushed back into her clothes, pants and jacket replaced as though nothing had ever happened. But nothing could be further from the truth. Everything had happened, and she saw that indelible difference in Sam's gaze of longing.

“What?”

He gathered her up in his arms once more as he said, “How would you feel about a proper date tomorrow night?”

A coy smile curled the corner of her lips as she spoke. “Only if you promise we do that again.”

His free hand slipped to the small of her back as Sam leaned into her and held her so close, his lips brushed her ear.

“I’ll pick you up at eight.”

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