Chapter Text
Jacaerys whimpered, his hand shaking as he tried to write on the whiteboard, the writing on it already crooked from his previous attempts.
He sagged against it, closing his eyes and trying not to smear his writing; he'd already been punished enough in the last hour, and he didn't know how much more he could take.
His body was on fire, the heat of his loins having traveled further up his body, his face and ears becoming hotter with each pulsating trigger from the thing inside of him.
When he felt his legs buckle from a sudden jolt he immediately snapped his eyes open, the reflection of the whiteboard giving him a brief glimpse of his burning face. He didn’t need a mirror to see how debauched he looked his face red and flushed, his curls in disarray and clinging to his brow with sweat, the way his white uniform dress shirt clung to his skin, damp and ruined and his legs, sweaty and shaking, traces of cum splattered from his restrained cock was slowly trailing down them, pooling onto the ground.
Gods if someone walked in and saw such a scene, prim and proper, straight A student, goody two shoes, Jacaerys Velaryon leaning against his history teacher’s whiteboard, looking thoroughly ravished and resisting every urge to fuck himself against it for release; they’d be in for quite a shock.
His musings were abruptly interrupted when a sharp and sudden feeling of tremors sprung from the vibrator inside of him, the assault causing him to gasp and slam his palm against the whiteboard, the marker clattering to the floor loudly, the words he had just written smearing in the process, causing a curse and desperate sob to escape his lips.
A smooth, husky, resonant voice echoed throughout the empty classroom, a tinge of amusement accompanying those naturally taunting lips.
“You shouldn’t be so distracted Jacaerys you only have twenty minutes left to write those paragraphs for detention….we wouldn’t want to add another day, do we? You’re already spending two weeks with me after class.”
Whimpering and shaking even more now Jacaerys slowly turned, his eyes wet as he tried to focus on the image of his history professor leaning against his desk, watching him.
The man was regal-looking, he always was, standing there, collected with his simple black slacks, pristine and dark, his plain white dress shirt, not a wrinkle out of place, rolled up sleeves showing off defined muscles, his long white hair loose and cascading down broad shoulders, arms crossed a pink device tucked away in his fist.
His face that disgusting handsome face was the epitome of nonchalance as he watched his student come undone in front of him, half naked and sinfully leaning against his white board, his cum staining the expensive floor of his classroom.
His history professor; Aemond Targaryen, his uncle, the most renowned, youngest, brilliant, and most attractive professor at King's Landing University, someone he admired, someone he worshiped, someone whose class he eagerly anticipated, his favorite teacher who taught his favorite subject.
Who was now his tormentor.