"Sam, you're not just doing this to get a good grade, right?"

Sam would have glared up at Professor Milton, but considering how difficult it is to look indignant with a cock in your mouth, he refrains. Instead, he runs a finger over the puckered skin of his teacher's hole earing a soft 'Oh Jesus' from the older man.

Unfortunately looking smug with a dick in your mouth is just as hard.

Sam attempts anyway.

If the way Gabriel is laughing at him is any indication, he's doing a piss poor job. He pulls off with a wet popping noise and the professor groans as he pulls Sam up gently to lick his way into his student's mouth.

"I have the best grades in the class, professor," Sam says as they break apart, foreheads still touching.
Gabriel has the audacity to smirk. "I must be doing a bang up job teaching then."

Sam rolls his eyes and lifts the smaller man to deposit him on the hardwood desk before moving to stand between his legs.

He leans in, his mouth next to his teacher's neck. "I've mostly been having to teach myself. You're so fucking distracting during class. I can't stop watching you." Sam bites down on the skin beneath the smaller man's ear and Gabriel breathes out a contented sigh. Sam leans back and sets to work undoing the pants that started this whole mess, trying his best not to be distracted by the hands running over his body and unbuttoning his over shirt.

It's not really fair for a teacher to come into class dressed like Gabriel does. Sam understands that colleges don't have dress codes for professors, but the shit Milton wears is ridiculous.

It started off the first day of class. Gabe came in wearing an Indiana Jones outfit, complete with leather jacket, fedora, and fucking whip. And it's not Sam's fault that being forced by his brother to watch mobster movies gave him a fedora fetish that he's never quite shaken.

He's not sure where all the other kinks came from.

Or how Gabriel seemed to hit every single one of them.

Sam gets it that this is a theater class (that he's taking for the easy grade, thank you very much) and that Gabe is a weird dude but dressing like movie characters for almost every class is playing dirty, especially when the professor is already so freaking adorable as it is. Like, the guy is pocket-sized. And Sammy may be a 'freaking sasquatch' (according to Crowley, his TA for physics) but Gabriel is seriously tiny.

But the pants.

The fucking pants.

It turns out the thing that gets Sam the hottest is when Gabriel dresses like an actual professor for once. Like not a regular professor, but like one of the fuckin' stereotypical ones. Full on tweed jacket, bow tie, wire rimmed glasses, fucking sweater vest and dress pants. Which, it's not like Sam has a fetish for dress pants because if that were the case he'd never get shit done, but Gabe's dress pants look like they're a size too small and leave nothing to the imagination.


Sam was hard from the second he entered the room.

Gabriel wriggles on the desk and pulls his student forward but the collar of his now open shirt to smash their lips together. He runs his hands under the plaid material and pushes it off Sam's shoulders, small hands flitting to the button of the larger man's pants. Panting, Sam looks between them, his hands braced on either side of Gabriel's thighs, gripping the dark wood of the desk because right now that's the only thing stopping him from pushing the professor out of the way and getting his jeans open himself. He chokes back a groan as the older man accidentally but totally on purpose brushes his knuckles against the zipper and, through the transitive property (thanks, geometry or algebra or what the fuck ever) Sammy's denim imprisoned erection. He thrusts forward out of instinct, and practically whines when Gabe decides instead to slip his hands under Sam's white t-shirt after he pulls it from the confines of the jeans.

"Jesus, come on Ga—"

The rest comes out as a garbled sound when the professor's deft fingers pinch and tease one of Sam's nipples. He arches into the touch and doesn't even have to look to know there's a satisfied smirk on Gabriel's face.

"I prefer to be called 'Professor', Mr. Winchester."

Oh, fuck.

Right in the professor kink.

Fucking Gabriel.

Fucking Gabriel with his hands inside Sam's pants—

"Unngghh, please, Professor," and fuck does Sam feel dirty as he makes a little half aborted thrust into Gabe's hands. Jesus, they don't feel so tiny now. He's unbalanced and unprepared so it's not really a surprise that Gabriel uses his advantage to push Sam backwards into the leather upholstered chair behind the desk.

"Push down your pants, Mr. Winchester. I want to see if your dick is going to pass my examination."

Sam does it, his cock hard and leaking, curling up towards his stomach. "Yes, Professor," he breathes.

He sees Gabriel's eyes darken before the older man hops off the desk, his pants pooling at his ankles, a mirror image of Sam's jeans. He crawls slowly onto his student's lap, thighs bracketing Sam's legs.

Sam's fingers find their way to Gabriel's hips, pushing lightly on the soft skin and tightening when the teacher leans down to assault his mouth with a dirty, wet kiss. Gabe grinds his erection against Sam's, thrusting with purpose, his slick head leaving a trail of precum along the other man's hip. They're both sweating now, the slippery slide of skin against skin fueling them on as Gabriel rocks harder on his student's lap. A hiss escapes his mouth when Sam's hand leaves his hip and the professor has never been happier that Sam is so big—well not counting when he first saw the kid's dick for the first time about 10 minutes ago—as when it wraps around both of their dicks and sets a counter rhythm to the way Gabe is thrusting.

"Oh jesus fuck—" Gabriel grinds out, his head falling forward to the other man's shoulder.

Sam is in no position to respond as he pants into the air of the office. His thumb finds the sensitive bundle of nerves below the head of Gabe's dick and he feels the professor's body go tight, his thighs trembling on either side of Sam's legs just as he feels the rush of liquid heat between them. His hand is shaking as he milks Gabriel through his orgasm. There are lips next to his ear whispering dirty promises of what's going to happen later but it's the "Come on, Mr, Winchester, come now" that has him biting down on his professor's shoulder, eyes squeezed shut as his own release slams through him, leaving him shaking and pliant.

Gabriel's lips are at his throat now, pressing wet, sucking kisses, worrying the skin and pulling blood to the surface and Sam doesn't want to think about how he's going to explain what's sure to be an epic hickey to Dean later. He decides he doesn't give a shit when he feels Gabe's fingers trailing through their come, mixing it together before leaning back and bringing them to his mouth to clean them. Sam's dick gives a valiant twitch at the sight and he fists a hand in Gabriel's hair to crush their lips together, wanting to taste them both and the unique sugary flavor of the professor's tongue.

When they part, Gabe is looking down at Sam, a smile pulling at his lips.

"What're you smiling about?" Sam asks.

"Well, Mr. Winchester," Gabriel smirks, "I think, as far as grading goes, your performance is a solid B. Maybe a B+."

Sam sure Gabe will deny his shriek later as he stands and pushes the smaller man up against the wall. His hands dig into the professor's ass cheeks as he lifts him up and buries his face in his neck, leaving a bruise of his own.

"I guess I'm just going to have to stay after for extra credit then," he growls. "Now, where do you keep your Indy whip?"