A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago. Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.
Word count: 3934
Warnings: Language, Adult Situations, NSFW, Dom Tom, sex in a public place, fingering, exhibitionism
Summary: Tom takes Thalia out on a date to the movies – and he has much more planned than just watching the screen!
Click here for intro to Educating Thalia
Tom approaches their meeting point in his car, anticipation making him drum his fingers on the steering wheel. He’s looking forward to spending some quality time with Thalia. Even though – or maybe because – they see each other every day at work, he’s been missing her.
It should probably bother him that he’s grown so attached to her, that he feels a little possessive pinch every time he sees her in someone else’s company – even if it’s just other students – but it doesn’t.
In the past, he used to overthink everything, and all that ever did for him was make him brood and steal his happiness. So for the past few years, he’s taken things at face value, has stopped questioning himself. His brain might be telling him that he’s inviting trouble by ‘dating’ Thalia, but his heart insists that it’s exactly the right thing.
“Shut up, brain,” Tom mutters under his breath, “just lose yourself in Shakespeare sonnets so my heart can get what it wants.”
He’s even considered going to the bar on the outskirts of town where Thalia works off and on. There’s a curious part inside him that wants to watch her in an environment completely different from campus. He has a feeling it brings out her tough side, the one that is closely linked to the sassiness she lets shine through the more he gets to know her. He’s heard talk from students and faculty who have visited the bar about how she handles the tough guys and takes no shit, of how she somehow rises above all the drunken stupor, boisterous shouts, sullen drinking and rowdy games.
But Tom isn’t a bar guy at all, and it’s a ‘local’ bar, not designed for the college crowd. Something, a different voice at the back of his head, cautions him that it wouldn’t do him any good to stalk her like that. Perhaps it’s better this way. Perhaps she needs a domain that’s exclusively hers, where she knows she isn’t watched by him and can be whoever she chooses to be.
He rounds the corner, slowing the car a little when the movie theater comes into view. For a moment, he wishes he could just pick her up at home, maybe have her invite him up for a cup of tea and some lazy kisses on the couch.
Turning right, he steers the silver Lexus into the parking lot.
There she is. Thalia is standing next to her cute little junky excuse for a car, her riotous curls tamed by a ridiculously long, pink scarf wrapped around her neck a dozen times and still hanging down to the hem of her knee-length skirt. Her coat and her skirt are black, so the splash of hot, feminine color is twice as striking from the distance. She’s stomping her bare legs in the cold, wearing her signature cowboy boots. Her hands are stuffed in her coat pockets, and she’s not watching the area for him but waiting with her head half-lowered.
When she hears the approaching car, she looks up, and he notices her thoughtful expression before a smile slowly transforms her face.
Tom parks a little away and gets out, shuddering once at the cold. He should’ve brought his own scarf. Then again, they weren’t planning on walking but on watching a special screening of Coriolanus, a stage play performed recently in London and now released worldwide for select theaters.
Pulling the hood of his coat tight around his neck, he ignores the fog on his glasses as he approaches. His lips stretch in an answering smile, forming laughter lines around his eyes.
“Fancy meeting you here, Miss Bareo,” he says with the lift of a brow. “Then again, I do know you’re a huge Shakespeare fan too.”
Her smile falters a little and she lifts a hand to tug on her orchid-pink enormity of a scarf.
“Who could resist the Bard – especially if such magnificent actors reenact one of his best plays?”
Shooting a glance left and right, Tom comes closer. He can’t help himself, he needs to touch her. There’s nobody to be seen anywhere near, and as the car park is at the back of the building, they’re in no danger of being discovered.
He leans closer and wraps her in his arms, inhaling her unique scent mixed with wool and biting winter cold.
Thalia takes a moment, then melts into his embrace, her arms coming up around his waist to press herself closer.
They remain like this for a precious moment while Tom resists the temptation to kiss her.
A gust of wind makes her shiver against him, and he rubs her back.
“Let’s go inside. We’re a bit early, but I can’t wait to feel warmer.”
She nods and they step away from each other, walking into the building. They’re close enough for their arms to touch, and Tom brushes a finger softly over her hand before putting a tiny bit more distance between them.
The next few minutes are spent exploring the place with all its Shakespeare-themed posters and paraphernalia, and then bickering goodnaturedly over what snacks to buy and what is the correct way to eat one’s popcorn. Tom insists on carrying their drinks and snacks, and he watches mesmerized as she unwraps those seemingly infinite layers of scarf and then loops the soft material around a hand so it’s finally small enough to stuff into a coat pocket.
He takes her to the hall, which is half empty. Their seats are at the very back. There are a few people right at the front, and judging from their animated talk they are Shakespeare enthusiasts. Several of the seats in the middle rows are occupied by younger and older couples who obviously had the same idea as Tom and want to share some privacy, probably not caring much for Coriolanus.
They settle down, Tom helping Thalia out of her coat because the place is surprisingly warm. She’s wearing a pink sweater underneath that is exactly the same shade as her scarf and stretches fetchingly across her ample breasts. He runs a hand over her shoulder and down her arm, briefly entangling their hands.
“Pretty. You don’t just smell like orchids, you look like them too.”
She raises her brows at him. “Ever the complementing gentleman, huh?”
“Why, of course.” He feigns shock, clutching his chest. “I couldn’t possibly not pay you a compliment about your outfit before we get down to business. About a million dead ancestors would roll over in their graves.”
That makes her giggle. “And what on earth do you mean with ‘getting down to business’, Professor?” she asks, her brows rising even higher.
He gives her his most innocent puppy-dog face. “Oh, just a general way of summarizing whatever may or may not happen during the next few hours.”
Now she’s narrowing her eyes at him, getting that sharp look of curiosity and intelligence that he loves so much.
“I thought we came here to watch a play?”
“Among other things,” he says airily and holds down a seat for her.
With an eye roll, she sits down, her skirt riding up to her thick thighs and making his hands itch to explore.
Tom takes a seat next to her and hands her the Coke. “Did you know that critics consider Coriolanus as the most opaque of Shakespeare’s tragic heroes? Compared with other grand works like Macbeth or King Lear, there’s hardly a revelation of his motives or a soliloquy. It makes him appear more like those ancient classical literature heroes like Odysseus or Achilles.”
Thalia cocks her head a little, listening intently. “Interesting. Wouldn’t that make him kind of difficult to sympathize with?”
“It does, yeah. Perhaps that’s why this play isn’t performed as much as others.”
“I heard there was a movie starring Ralph Fiennes that gave the story a modern twist?” Thalia asks, momentarily distracting him from lecture mode when she gulps a bit of her soda and licks a drop from her lips.
“Uh… yes. Yes, you’re right. A highly acclaimed actor and a stunning, quite provocative movie. Then again, today’s interpretation has earned a lot of praise too. There’s all that pride and militarism and Roman grandeur, but also so much subtle background story.”
They spend the next few minutes talking about the play and then veer to small talk, and something feels a little odd to Tom. Thalia seems distant, a bit subdued almost, although her smile – when she does smile – reaches her eyes.
Didn’t she mention she’d been with a friend? But that should have left her in a good mood. He wonders why she isn’t as enthusiastic or flirty as he’d hoped?
Deciding to pull her out of her thoughts during another lull in conversation, Tom says, “You know, I’ve been in a couple of Shakespeare plays myself.”
That does catch her attention. She gapes at him, a handful of popcorn halted in mid-air.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
He grins. “I swear, scout’s honor.”
“Wouldn’t have pegged you for an actor, Professor Hiddleston.” Wide-eyed, she grins back at him. “Tell me all about your acting career.”
With a sheepish smile, Tom rubs the back of his neck. “It’s not actual acting, just a bit of dabbling. It was for a college play both times, actually. I starred in Cymbeline and Othello. It was fun, once I’d died a thousand deaths of mortification.”
He’s interrupted by the lights going out and the sounds of people settling down for the movie.
For the next half an hour, they’re much too intrigued and enthralled by the play to talk much. They munch on their snacks, off and on elbowing each other or exchanging a glance or tugging on a sleeve when they want to share their delight.
When a shift of her body makes her skirt ride up higher, Tom remembers what had been his plan today.
Leaning over, he nuzzles her hair softly before taking her arm and draping it over the back of his seat so he can get closer and lean against it. She makes a content little sound, and after a moment, her head drops to his shoulder. It’s dark enough for them not to fear discovery.
Tom switches his popcorn to the other hand and rests his free hand on her knee. Thalia shoots him a glance but focuses on the shouting Roman general again when he simply keeps it in place.
He waits until she’s so immersed in the play that he will catch her off guard. Slowly, he lets his hand wander higher until he slinks it beneath the hem of her skirt and runs his nails over the inside of her thigh.
Thalia’s legs close, effectively trapping his hand between them.
“What are you doing?” she hisses out of the corner of a mouth, staring determinedly ahead.
The light is too low, but he bets she’s blushing.
“I think I’ve had enough popcorn. I’m hungry for a different kind of treat,” he murmurs, keeping his voice low and letting it drop to the deeper register that always works wonders with her.
He feels her shiver. When he wiggles his fingers against her skin, her legs open ever so slightly. It gives him enough room to slide his hand higher until his fingertips are brushing the crease where skin meets panties.
“Are you up for some naughty shenanigans, Miss Bareo?” he asks, leaning close enough to her ear that his breath fans warmly over her.
He sees her grip tighten on her popcorn bag before she draws in a deep breath.
“What kind of shenanigans did you have in mind, Professor Hiddleston?” she asks back in the same low tone.
“Let me surprise you, darling.”
A few seconds tick by, making him wonder again why she’s not as responsive to him today. But then she nods, and he licks his lips in anticipation.
“We’re in the last row, remember. Nobody can see us. And everyone’s either too busy making out or watching the play to notice anything out of order. And you remember our safe word?” Sexual encounters in a public place aren’t for everyone, and he wants her to know she has an out if she chooses.
She nods again.
“Are you a good girl, Thalia?” His voice is even lower and deeper now.
God, she remembered that. Tom feels himself grow harder and adjusts his position surreptitiously.
“Then you deserve a treat. Spread your legs wider, love.”
Thalia complies, her gaze never leaving the screen. He can hear her breath come a little faster.
Bending his wrist a bit, he runs his fingers softly over the front of her panties, stroking rhythmically without touching high enough to brush her clit. After a few strokes, the fabric goes damp.
Her popcorn bag wobbles in her now unsteady grip, so she sets it down in the seat next to her and puts her empty hand into her lap. It clenches into a fist when he moves his fingers higher and adds some pressure, rubbing over the hidden nub.
In the dim light, he can see her dig her teeth into her lower lip.
“Do you trust me, darling?”
“Yes.” Her voice is husky.
Tom leans closer still, speaking with his lips pressed against the shell of her ear.
“Then be a very good girl for me and take your panties off.”
“What?” It comes out as a mix between a soft shout and a startled squeak. From somewhere, a voice shushes them, and he can feel her muscles grow tense.
Tutting softly, he gives her clothed clit a pinch that makes her jerk and suck in her breath. Her eyes are on him now, wide and dark.
“Take them off. Now. And I’ll reward you.”
He removes his hand from under her skirt and shrugs out of his coat, draping it strategically over their laps. Moving with deliberate jerkiness, he knocks a chocolate bar down.
“Bend to pick this up and use it as a pretense.”
She holds his gaze for a moment, her breasts heaving with unsteady breaths.
“Hell, Tom, you’re a fucking menace,” she mutters darkly.
“And you love it,” he whispers back with a smirk, his cock twitching when she moves to obey his command.
Wriggling a little under the cover of the coat, Thalia slips her panties down and slowly lifts a foot at a time out of it while grabbing the wrapped candy.
“Hand them to me.”
Avoiding his gaze this time, she drops the wadded damp silk fabric into his waiting hand and he pockets it.
They settle down, watching the play for several minutes as if nothing happened.
Tom takes her hand, entwining their fingers and squeezing reassuringly. He can feel her shift, crossing and uncrossing her legs and fully aware of going commando in a movie theater.
“Have you ever had a quickie, Thalia?” he asks, taking care to keep his voice as low as possible. He brushes his leg against hers. “Some forbidden little tryst in the restroom or up against the wall in a dark corner?”
She sucks in another breath. “No.”
“Wrong answer. You should say ‘no, not yet’. How about I introduce you to the thrill of that one day?”
Her grip on his hand tightens like a vice.
“Would you like that? To let me pull you to a semi-secluded place and grind against you, plunging my tongue into your mouth and my fingers into your sopping cunt? Would you wrap your legs around me and let me take you so hard and fast you see stars? Make you feel so good that you’ve never wanted to scream more in your life but know you can’t? Would you let me fuck you so mercilessly that I’ll have to clamp my hand over your mouth and let you bite my fingers so nobody can hear you when you come all over my cock?”
He hears her mutter expletives in Spanish and English and can’t hold back a devilish smirk, although he’s enjoying this so much that his trousers are way too tight now.
“Does the thought of it make you wet?” he taunts softly. “Shall we verify that, love?”
Tom moves their joined hands beneath the coat and her skirt, brushing over the inside of her trembling thigh and inexorably closer to the Promised Land.
He touches her slick folds, their tangled fingers stroking and spreading the proof of her arousal. Biting back a groan of his own, he listens to her needy, soft whine. After a minute of stroking, her hips rise, her breath a harsh pant that only he is close enough to hear.
“More, darling? Want me to make you come right here and right now?”
“Fff…. god yes. I hate you for this, but… yes. Make me come. Please, Tom.”
“As you wish, darling.”
He tugs free of her grasp and moves her hand to her own thigh. “Dig your fingers in and hold on for the ride.”
Tom leans over her on the pretense of adjusting his coat over her, and it allows him more flexibility. At the same time when he slides two fingers into her soaking heat, he bends to capture her lips in a kiss.
He knows they’re not the only couple kissing at the moment, but nobody will be the wiser that he does it to swallow up the moans now rising from deep in her chest.
Without further teasing, he crooks his fingers up inside her to rub over the spot that will trigger her release. He rubs his thumb over her swollen nub and glides his tongue into her mouth, dancing with hers as she gasps, freezes and then clamps rhythmically around him.
While stifling her whimper and his own, he slows his movements to bring her down from her high.
Once she has stopped convulsing around him, he pulls out and settles somewhat painfully in his seat, his erection straining to have some fun too. He waits until she focuses hazily on him before he brings the slick digits to his mouth and licks them clean.
“Definitely tastier than the sweets they sell here,” he growls before stealing another breathless kiss from her.
Thalia slumps in her seat, so dazed she doesn’t even ask for her panties back.
“I think you’ve ruined Shakespeare for me,” she says amidst soft pants, and he can hear the reluctant grin in her husky voice. “I’ll never be able to talk about Coriolanus again without remembering this.”
“Likewise, darling,” he admits with a chuckle. “And I have to present it once a semester in class.”
She catches him totally by surprise when her hand slides over his bulge and squeezes gently.
“Let me help you too?”
Tom presses her hand down, forcing himself not to buck into the more than welcome warmth so close to where he’s dying for her.
“Not here, darling. I need to be inside you, and I haven’t made you come nearly enough yet.”
He laces his fingers with hers, keeping their hands on his lap but out of the danger zone, not entirely sure that he’ll be able to control the monster he’s unleashed. Since Chicago, she’s a little more forward, more daring, and he loves it, but it also fills him with the weirdest wistful ache deep inside. For she isn’t his, as much as he wants to convince himself otherwise. She’s like a wild creature who needs freedom, who shouldn’t be tamed, but could stand a little training. As much as he wants her to himself, he reminds himself to be realistic. He can’t keep her forever.
That thought sits with him, a lump in his chest, and he can’t focus on the film before him, although the portrayal is amazing work. The rest of the play goes by in a blur, neither of them paying full attention or finishing the snacks, although his throat is parched with longing and he could guzzle two bottles of water right about now.
Tom rises as soon as the credits start rolling, tugging her out with him before people might take notice of who had occupied the last row.
They dump their stuff on a bench in the lobby and juggle their clothes, Tom taking it upon himself to wrap her in the never-ending loop of her scarf and nuzzling the softer than soft material that smells of her.
“Where would you like to go now?” he asks her. “I could rent us another hotel room and order take-away or room service?”
Something shifts in her face, which is still slightly flushed. She looks away for a moment and takes a deep breath.
They’re in a corner towards the back, alone for the moment. After checking left and right, Thalia takes his face in her hands. It’s an odd gesture, the tenderness of it jolting through him.
“Will…will you be mad if I decline?” she asks, her voice a little uncertain.
Tom feels something heavy settle on his chest and sinking lower into his gut.
There it is again, a small sign that something is off today.
He’d love to know why she’s reacting like this, but he knows it’s none of his business unless she wants to share it with him. So, he forces a smile onto his face, happy when it brings the spark back into her beautiful eyes.
“I have no right to be mad at you, Thalia,” he says. “Please don’t ever think you’re in any way obliged to spend time with me.”
She nods once, letting go of his face. He wants her hands back there, where they feel as if they belong. He wants her in his arms, in his bed, goddammit.
“Tom,” at the sound of his name he knows their little game is over for today. “Don’t be that way. I love being with you, but I’m…tired. And I didn’t get much studying done this afternoon, because I was getting ready to see you. This was a nice surprise for our ‘day off,’ but can we just go grab a quick cup of coffee? Maybe sit and talk for a bit? I’d really like that.”
Tom feels himself nodding like a loon, hears himself speak in a tone that grates on his nerves because the cheerfulness is all fake. “Sure, totally fine with me. There’s a great little bakery just around the corner?”
Her hand gently runs across the stubble on his chin as she teases, “You always know the best places to eat!”
He feigns a chuckle, and something in her expression tells him she’s seeing right through the farce.
Shit, he didn’t think it would be so difficult to face rejection from her. Not so soon, not like this when they’ve barely explored all the magnificent possibilities, but he feels like she’s leaving him behind. Like something is weighing heavy on her beautiful mind.
Then again, he’s probably taking this far too seriously. Everyone has a bad day once in awhile. He shouldn’t read anything into this.
Pulling himself together, he leans in and kisses her on both cheeks, lips lingering a tad too close to her mouth.
“And I’ll share them all with you, love,” he says quietly, trying to mask the sinking feeling in his stomach. Buoyed when she links her arm around his, she pushes them out the door and onto the deserted sidewalk.
“Come on, Professor. Although I quite enjoyed the reasoning behind your clothing request, I’m freezing now. Let’s go!”
Click here to read Chapter 20 Disclosure
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