Author's Note: This was made in part with the authorial-roleplay help of u/malloccaro. We did a little roleplay session, and I just couldn't not turn it into a story (with their permission, of course, hehe). We hope you all enjoy our fun! :)

It was the end of the semester, and I was finally out of his class. I'd never get distracted by him again. He was tall, bookish, and always had a well-trimmed salt-and-pepper beard to match his straight, salt-and-pepper hair. And unfortunately for me, he was also the sexiest professor on campus.

Being an "older" student going back to finish my degree, I opted to live off-campus, so I'd commute home after class. I'd try to study, but his voice would still drum around my head. He'd picked the right profession; his voice was commanding and stern, perfect for leading a class, but his laugh was like music. I'd find myself fantasizing about what his voice sounded like "after class," if you catch my drift.

I knew I was in trouble when he asked me to meet him for a one-on-one after the final. As I turned my Scantron in, he slipped me a note reading, "If you don't mind, please meet me in my office for a discussion about your behavior this semester. This will not affect your final grade, but I need to clear the air on what is acceptable behavior for students." There was a date and a time scrawled on the paper; we'd be meeting after the semester ended and just before the school wrapped up for summer.

By the time I went up for our discussion, most of the faculty were gone and the office floor was mostly barren. The lights weren't even on in some of the hallways. No use for professors to be here when there weren't classes being taught, I guess.

I followed the lit hallways to his office, which was illuminated by soft lamplight and was filled with books. As a literature professor, this made sense, but I'd be lying if I said he didn't look fucking great in this light.

His hair and beard was mussed more than usual, probably a result of the stress of finals. His signature glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, but his shirt wasn't buttoned all the way up like it normally is. He's usually very buttoned-up--in every sense of the word--but that night, I caught sight of chest hair I hadn't realized was there before.

"Please," he said, nervously gesturing to the chair in front of his desk, "take a seat."

I took my seat equally nervously. I made sure to press my dress down as I sat, and my tits weren't falling out of the low neckline. Looking back on that "discussion," I'm certain I caught his eyes falling to my chest as I sat down.

"I'd like to clear the air on some things before we break for summer, now that the semester is officially over." He leaned forward in his leather chair and wrapped his arms together on the desk. "To be clear, I want to make sure I didn't misunderstand some things."

"What do you mean," I asked, my heart in my throat. Did he catch me staring at him? I mean, come on, who wouldn't in those pants he wears.

"I think you had a certain... affinity for... staring."

Shit.

"I, uhh, I'm not sure I follow," I said, completely understanding him.

"Well," he said, removing his glasses "I just wanted to confirm that you were. I think we both remember one incident in which I asked you a question about symbolism in Wordsworth and... It took a moment for you to reply. Does this ring a bell?"

"I think," I said, flashing back to the embarrassment of snapping out of a sex daydream and not having a fucking clue why everyone was staring at me. "I know I have some problems paying attention to literature."

He eyed me. "I think that's why I've asked you here. Are you sure you had trouble focusing because of the curriculum? Or was it something else?"

I stared back at him like a deer in headlights, seriously regretting my decision to not wear a bra; my nipples began to grow hard at what he was suggesting.

"We're both adults, these things happen," he said reassuringly. "I just wanted to clear the air before we parted ways officially."

"Clear the air?"

"Ahm, yes," he put his glasses back on and cleared his throat. "I, uh, was curious, if you didn't mind divulging, what, uhm--"

He faltered, laughing a little. "I've never really had this happen before, I'm sorry."

"Had what happen?" I asked shakily.

"Uhm, been uh, been attracted to a student."

Silence.

"Oh," I said, weirdly relieved. "So, I wasn't crazy either, then? You were staring at me too, right? I caught you looking a few times as I left class, you were checking me out!"

He sighed, his eyes softening. "All of my students are so young. So immature. You always brought a certain understanding to discussions, I just couldn't stop myself."

"I know the feeling," I said with a laugh. "Imagine going back to school and not getting the 'college experience'. I think being hot for teacher was my closest shot."

"Hot for teacher?" He smiled coyly, leaning back in his chair.

"I mean," I stopped myself. "If this is too inappropriate, I can go," I said, rising and heading for the door.

"No," he said--no, he ordered. "I know what attracted me to you, it's your turn now."

"I'm not sure it's appropriate," I breathed, my back to the cracked door. "Are you sure you really, really wanna know?"

He nodded, chewing his thumb seductively.

"Your jeans." I looked down--fuck--he was wearing them. His jeans. His thighs were thick, and the denim hugged his hips so everything was defined. *Everything.*

"My jeans?" He feigned confusion, as if he hadn't worn those tonight knowing damn well those weren't the pants that distracted me that day, that sparked the daydream he snapped me out of.

"Your pants. They're the problem."

"What's the problem," he said with finality. He wants me to say it.

"They're too tight. I mean," I started breathing heavier, "they can't be comfortable in... some situations."

"You mean in situations like this, where my student who didn't pay attention in my class, is clearly distracting me today? With full intent to seduce me even though it's against college policy?"

"It's not like you're--you're totally innocent," I said, nervously stepping towards him. "You--you asked me here, with your smooth voice and lingering eyes and tight pants and--and--"

My eyes fell to his lap. It was clear they were tighter than when I came in a few moments ago.

"And your uncontrollable lust." My eyes never left the long bulge growing in his pants. "That can't be comfortable, Professor."

"Do you want me to be comfortable?"

My breath faltered. Was I really about to do this?

"Yes, Professor."