It had been months, three agonizing months to be precise, since Geralt had drunkenly kissed the chemistry teacher at Happy Hour. He hadn’t had enough to eat, one too many shots, and Yennefer was sitting next to him at the bar like an angel dropped from heaven. The kiss had been a misunderstanding, Geralt misreading the touch on his arm, her laughter at his lame jokes, and her lean forward - to get a napkin to clean up a spill, he learned, when Yennefer pulled back, hand over her mouth to cover a gasp.
“I’m sorry, it’s not you. I just - don’t. Not with coworkers.”
Geralt had frantically escaped after that, bent over in an alley to throw up halfway back to his flat from the effort. Geralt was out of practice with relationships of any kind, let alone ones he fucked up out of the gate.
In three months, he had done all he could to avoid Yennefer at school. She worked in the Science wing, him in the Social Studies department, so it wasn’t completely impossible - but when their paths did cross, Geralt could feel the heat creeping up his neck instantly and it was all he could do to mutter an excuse to his colleagues to duck away or avoid knocking over a student to dart down a different hallway.
In three months, he had also managed to create a visceral reaction to the scent of Yennefer’s perfume. Replaying the memories of that night at Happy Hour (before Geralt fucked everything up) while taking himself in hand in the cover of night. Jerking himself off to every possible outcome the night could have ended in if Yennefer had only felt the same way.
Geralt had even bought a lotion with a lilac scent similar to the notes of her perfume.
A clatter of books pulled Geralt from his musings. He had thought himself alone in the library, finishing up grading papers after the last of the students had trickled out.
“Oh, I’m sorry - “ Yennefer stopped in her steps: hair falling out of her clip, framing her sharply featured face and large, round eyes, top almost as deeply unbuttoned as that night three months ago, the top of her cleavage heaving with each breath, and pencil skirt disheveled so it fell slightly uneven at the hem.
Geralt adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat, unsure what to do in a room now heavy with tension.
Yennefer’s gaze finally dropped from him to the heavy texts in her arms, likely the cause for the heavy breathing. “Would you mind?”
“Oh!” Geralt rushed to stand. “How rude of me, of course.” He hurried to the Chemistry instructor, helping to alleviate the burden of books from her hold - Geralt gulped, eyes unable to peel themselves from the tops of her plump breasts now that he’d brushed his hands right by them.
And then the worst possible situation occurred, when the scent of Yennefer’s lilac noted perfume curled into his nostrils and the blood rushed to his cock with the lack of control of an adolescent boy. Geralt nearly dropped one of the heavy books rushing to cover the tent in his pants, surprising Yennefer and sending her off balance in her heels with a yelp.
The books dropped in a clatter, Geralt grabbing on to Yennefer to save her from falling over - and she stumbled right against him in the crash of activity. Stumbled right against his hard dick, only aching further at the press of her swells of breasts now pressed against him.
“Is that - “
“Oh, Gods, I’m so sorry, Yen, I - “
The words were cut off by soft lips catching his, taking the words right from him. Geralt’s hands stopped struggling to keep his offense erection from touching her, moving to caress the curves he has been fantasizing about as she deepened the kiss enthusiastically. Everything was even better than he imagined: the handfuls of Yennefer’s tight, tear drop shaped ass cheeks soft in all the right places, the delicate curve of her spine, how small she felt pressed against him.
When she pulled away, lips already swelling red, Geralt’s glasses were fogged with steam at the edges of his frames. “Yennefer, I thought you didn’t ...”
“Fuck my rules. I can’t stop thinking about you, touching myself to you at night,” Yennefer said huskily, pulling at his loosened tie, “It seems like you’ve felt the same way.” She firmly palmed Geralt’s hard cock, eliciting a sharp moan from the history teacher.
“We shouldn’t, not here ...” Geralt could hardly think straight, how could this really be happening right here, right now? How could he really be trying to say no? She could surely feel the wet spot of precome from where she was working his dick through the fabric of his slacks.
Yennefer crushed their lips together once more, this time seizing his bottom lip with her teeth. “I need to suck that cock of yours, Geralt,” her words came out like a feral growl.
A less than masculine whine was all Geralt could manage before he was pushed back against the bookshelf.
“I want red knees, a bruise in the back of my throat from you fucking into me,” Yennefer elaborated while dropping to her knees and hungrily undoing his belt, the clasp of his pants, and then yanking them and his briefs down in one fluid motion.
The veins running the length of his hard cock indicated just how much blood had rushed to Geralt’s lower region and the head hit Yennefer’s chin when released from the confines of his briefs. She gasped, but this time it wasn’t the shock following a bumbled kiss - this time it was with anticipation.
One of Yennefer’s hands curled around his balls, already tight from excitement, the other firmly gripping his freely leaking cock.
“My, my,” Yennefer chided before the tip of her tongue swiped the weeping slit at his head.
Geralt gulped once more, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose and suppressing another moan. “I - I haven’t been with anyone recently, I might - “The hand at the base of his cock suddenly squeezed tight and every thought, every bit of air in his lungs, escaped him.
“You’ll come when I’m ready,” Yennefer purred, having to know the mixture of intense pain and pleasure she was sending coursing through Geralt, “I’ll take care of you, Mr. Rivia.”
“Fuck, okay.” Geralt let his head fall back against the books, dulled to any pain it may have caused. His hands found Yennefer’s hair, pressing his fingertips through the strands to maintain a gentle grip without any demand.
Yennefer made a pleased noise from the touch from around the head of his cock she had just taken into the warm cavern of her mouth. Her tongue swirled around the most sensitive skin at the lip of the head, matching the rhythm she kneaded at his balls.
Movements slow and deliberate at first as if easing his length and girth into her mouth, readying herself, Yennefer kept her hand at the base of his shaft firmly in place. The blood trapped beyond pulsed, precome continued to mix with her salvia, and Geralt didn’t know how he could last much longer even as he grew lightheaded from the denial of his tight balls wishing to release.
It was only made worse when Geralt finally allowed himself to open his eyes and look down. Yennefer’s hair had fallen out of its clip even more, her lips were stretched to accommodate him, her cheeks hollowed with the action. When she looked up at him from under heavy lashes, the drool that dribbled from the corners of her mouth twisted his gut.
“Fuck, you’re so hot, Yen.”
A dirty, unholy wet pop sounded as Yennefer pulled off of his cock. “I like when you call me that.”
“Yen. Your mouth feels so good on my cock, Yen.”
She smiled devilishly. “You’re learning well, Mr. Rivia.” The hand released the base of his cock and Geralt’s hips bucked with the release of pressure without his control. Yennefer placed both hands on his hips. “You can fuck me til you come.”
With skill he had only seen in porn, Yennefer took his length to the hilt. Geralt could feel the press of the back of her throat, but she didn’t gag, only swallowed around him. She dug her nails into his ass, commanding even without words, and Geralt began slowly thrusting.
Without her hand in place to act as a cock ring, Geralt could barely contain the delirious bucks of his hips that soon took over. When he looked down at the beautiful woman he had mistaken as an angel when she so clearly was something darker released to torment his every rational thought, Geralt could all but cry out as his body seized with orgasm. He forced his hands not to grab too tightly at her hair through the waves of euphoria, struggling to hold himself steady.
Yennefer moaned and let her jaw slacken to make room for his flow of seed. She lapped at his shaft, milking all he had, until the sensitivity made Geralt jump and she pulled back. She made a point to keep eye contact with him as she swallowed the remainder of his spend in her mouth and licked her lips with a contented smack.
“Holy shit.” HIs life as he knew it was over. Geralt could feel it in the boneless quake of his thighs, barely holding himself up, and the utter sense of completion filling him. He would do anything for this woman.
Using her hold on his hips as an anchor, Yennefer pulled herself back up to her feet. With little delicacy, she grabbed the hair at the back of his head and pulled his mouth to hers. Lips already parted as he tried to catch his breath, Geralt was open to her tongue as it plunged into his mouth and pressed the taste of his come against his palette, his own tongue.
“Does that feel a little better?” She asked coyly as she pulled back, looking a complete wreck.
Geralt nodded, unable to find any words with the overwhelming sense of her.
“Good.” Yennefer used the back of her hand to wipe away any excess moisture still around her mouth, then stepped back until she was seated on one of tables students used for studying. painstakingly slowly, she pulled her skirt up, placed either heel clad foot on a chair, legs spread open to give Geralt the full view of her lack of panties. “Your turn.”