Hush

When we fuck in his office we have to be silent. Not just quiet, but silent. He bites my lip when he kisses me and I stifle the cry that rises up my throat. Not more than a metre away, on the other side of the wall, the corridor is filled with a babble of voices and footsteps. Jostling students queue up, fat and clumsy in their winter coats; a hundred file out of the adjacent lecture theatre and a hundred more wait to file in.

The door to his office is unlocked. Any one of them would only have to turn the handle and they would see us standing there, mouths pressed together.

That is why, when he bites my lip, I don’t cry out. When he puts his hands on my hips and turns me around, I turn pliantly and without protest. And then his hand is on the back of my neck and he’s pushing me down so that I’m facing the surface of his desk.

Obedient, I spread my legs, my skirt hushing against my skin. It is the loudest thing in the room. He is standing behind me and the two of us are barely breathing. From where I am I can see the door – my whole body is tense as a bridge. I’m wet enough that my panties cling to me as he peels them away.

Something – a bag or a body – bumps against the wall that divides his office from the corridor. We tense a little, the both of us. I feel it in his hand, which still rests on the back of my neck. If we’re caught, it could mean his job – but he pauses only for a moment, and then I hear the buckle of his belt clink as he unfastens it. There is a shift of fabric.

My face is an inch from the polished wood of his desk, and my breath makes a fog against it. I don’t breathe as he presses against me, the naked tip of him finding the void in me and pushing forward, in. As he fills me I feel my whole body shudder and tighten. I can’t stop the groan that slips from my throat. It’s an animal noise. Involuntary, deep.

He bends over me. His lips an inch from my ear, the full length and weight and tension of him inside me. “Hush.” Just that one word. And then he starts to fuck me. Hard.

The way his cock fills me I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming. Even then it’s a struggle. The breath rushing in my lungs, my hands leaving hot imprints against the smooth wood of the desk. It’s so quiet in here I can hear the sound of his flesh sinking into mine – my wetness dewing from me. My breath seizes in my throat, hot and shivery: all the screams I am not voicing.

I come quickly. Danger always pushes me over the edge before I’m ready. My mouth clamped shut. Eyes shut. I feel for a moment like the pressure might make me explode – white light ripping out through the seams of my body. Everything that is me dissolving into nothingness. The waves roll up through me from my groin to the back of my brain, and he is holding me as I come, holding me down against the desk and pushing harder still, deeper still into me.

I can feel my body clutching him. My hands are fists against the wood of the desk. It’s so much. It’s more pleasure than I can process. For a second, and then another second, and then another second after that I cannot breathe. To breathe would be too much. I am floating, as if underwater and – distorted, distant – I can hear the sounds of the students filing by in the corridor outside.

He finishes inside me. I feel the twitching, the sudden deeper thrust. He doesn’t groan. Doesn’t make a sound, but his fingers dig into the soft flesh of the small of my back. I reach back, my fingers ghosting his hip. I touch him there as he empties into me.

Afterwards, there is silence of a different sort. The kind you’d hear after emerging from a black hole. The sounds of the world rushing back, gaining pace – as if someone had hit the pause button just for a moment – now everything resumes. He pulls out of me. I drip. He sinks into his chair, and me to my knees, forehead on the desk.

There are tears wet in the corners of my eyes. My legs are shaking. He puts a hand on my back, gentle where before he was harsh. I rock back into his lap and place my head against his thigh. With my ear to his skin I can hear a pulse there, racing, fast. It’s so loud it seems impossible that I’m the only one who can hear it.