Work Text:
...kinematics for rotational motion is completely analogous to translational kinematics, as defined by quantities such as displacement—
You can’t help the groan that tears from your throat as you sink forward in your chair, burying your throbbing head in your arms. You had been reading the same chapter of the textbook for what felt like hours and yet you understood no more than you did two days ago when the topic was first introduced. If it weren’t for the fact it was a required course for your major you would have given up long ago.
Forcing yourself to sit back up, your eyes lazily sweep over the room, eager to find a distraction—not that there are many particularly interesting things around, to be honest. You are in Albedo’s lab, as per usual after classes. The walls around you are covered with tall shelves lined with glass vials, beakers, and funnels. Plastic bottles with sloppily jotted labels of names you didn’t dare even attempt to pronounce border machines you are positive cost more than your life is probably worth on the black market. In short, it is the typical laboratory scene you had grown familiar with over the course of your relationship with Albedo.
Albedo…
You chance another quick glance at your homework before making up your mind and gathering the loose papers in your arms.
Padding over to the next room you find your boyfriend seated at a back table, working diligently on jotting down notes on a titration system of some sort. As you approach you begin to feel slightly guilty, knowing you don’t deserve to interrupt his important research with your stupid homework question but he’s turning toward you before you can even think to back out. He offers you a small smile that makes your heart skip a beat and politely asks if you need something, seemingly unbothered by your interruption.
When you explain your struggles with an assignment, Albedo is quick to offer his help, assuring you that he isn’t working on anything particularly time sensitive as he moves his own notebook and flasks out of the way to make room.
You’ve always been at least slightly perturbed by just how attractive your boyfriend is—effortlessly charming blue eyes that hold a visible intelligence only further enhanced by the fitted white coat resting on his shoulders. You have spent more time than you’d like to admit thinking about Albedo’s blue latex gloves on various parts of your body, undivided attention on you as he gazes down at you with that intense expression he gives his experiments, taking note of your every reaction while your overstimulated body trembles beneath him-
“Y/n?”
You startle at the sound of his soft question, flustering at where your thoughts had strayed while he eyes you curiously.
“S-sorry, what?”
Albedo only offers another achingly sweet smile, ever patient with you as he repeats himself.
“I said, unfortunately I don’t think there are any other chairs so you’ll have to sit in my lap—if you don’t mind.”
Your brain nearly short-circuits.
He looks at you so earnestly, unaware of your inappropriate thoughts as he offers his open lap to you. You know for a fact here is another chair in the next room you had just been sitting on five minutes ago. It was only a few meters away, you could easily roll it into the room and beside him—but when will you ever get this chance again? Could you really turn down such an opportunity?
The answer is no.
Eagerly, you perch yourself on one of his thighs, careful not to rest all of your weight on him for fear of making your usually reserved boyfriend uncomfortable—but it seems the effort was for nought as he wordlessly wraps his hands around your hips and maneuvers you more firmly into his lap as if you weigh nothing.
The casual show of strength sends a flash of heat straight through your gut and you find yourself forgetting how to breathe as Albedo takes the papers from your hands and sets them on the table in front of you two.
He takes only a few moments to read over your notes, scanning the words you hardly understand with ease while you try not to notice how his hot breath fans over your neck when he softly exhales.
Albedo seems to comprehend the assignment quickly, the concepts familiar to him despite never taking your course and he begins to explain the assignment in detail. In the beginning you tried to pay attention—you made an honest to Barbatos effort to listen—but the way his chest softly rumbles against your back every time he speaks along with his natural minty scent invading your nose proves too great of a distraction and his words quickly become background noise.
Truthfully, studying physics becomes the last thing on your mind. Instead, you find yourself studying Albedo’s features from the side, watching the way his half-lidded cerulean eyes flit across the paper before your gaze hones in on his lips that look temptingly soft as they curve to form words in that calming tone you’ve always loved.
It’s shameful how quickly your thoughts shift as you imagine what else you know those pretty lips are capable of. Where those lips had been...
You shift uncomfortably in his lap as the dampness between your thighs becomes apparent.
“Do you understand?”
Huh?
Albedo looks down at you expectantly, expression impassive as he patiently awaits your answer. Beneath his fingertips lay your scattered physics notes, hastily copied from the whiteboard in lecture despite you not even knowing what the hell you were writing down. In the margins you spot Albedo’s own tiny, messy but pretty handwriting as he had meticulously explained your professor’s lesson in his own words in the hopes that you would better understand.
You try to school your features into something you hope resembles confidence as you nod.
Albedo returns his attention to the papers with a hum and you sag in relief, thinking he bought your white lie—but his next words quickly prove otherwise.
“I don’t think you’ve been paying attention at all.”
You freeze, feeling like a child caught with their hands in the cookie jar. You open your mouth—whether to defend yourself or apologize you aren’t sure, but Albedo beats you to it anyway, his hands returning to your waist with a firm grip as he speaks.
“In fact,” he drawls, “you’re squirming so much—I think you’ve been thinking about other things.”
He presses you more firmly into his lap, completely thwarting all potential chance of escape as his eyes slide back over to you, trapping you in his unreadable gaze.
“Tell me,’ he orders, “what exactly were you thinking about?”
Your throat suddenly feels bone dry, incapable of making a sound as your thoughts become little more than radio static. At your silence, Albedo seems to grow impatient and his grip on you tightens before he forces you into a rocking motion that sends you gasping and scrambling to find something to hold on to. Your hands brace you on the edge of the table in front of you as every muscle in your body tenses, the sensations of your clothed crotch brushing against his firm thigh sending shockwaves through your body.
“Hm? I need an answer, Y/n.”
“Y-you,” you manage to choke out, tongue feeling heavier than usual.
Albedo hums thoughtfully continuing to roll your hips into his own in pace that is almost infuriatingly slow. However, the moment you begin to consider taking matter into your own hand, he abruptly halts, a hand on your back pushing you forward so suddenly that you’re forced to splay your hands out on the table in front of you to prevent yourself from face-planting. Albedo pays your surprised squeak no mind as his hands find purchase on your ass in his lap, shamelessly lifting your skirt so the fabric gathers over your hips, exposing your cotton panties to his analytical gaze.
You nearly choke on your own spit when you feel him press a finger into the rapidly dampening fabric, pressing right over your hole that flutters needily upon contact. The sensation makes you squirm, involuntarily pressing your clit over the hardness in his crotch that makes his breath audibly hitch.
“Hn...’Bedo,” you slur, pressing back into the rhythmic stroking of his fingers.
“I believe it may be easier for you to understand if I showed you the laws of motion firsthand, no?”
You shiver at the implication before startling with a high pitched mewl as his finger stealthily slips past the side of your underwear to enter your cunt without warning.
You’re soaking—the squelching sounds making it apparent along with how easily his long index finger slides in and out of you. When he presses a second finger alongside the first you clench down instinctively before your gummy walls accept the intrusion, sucking his digits in in a way that makes both of you slightly lightheaded.
“You’re already drenched,” Albedo comments coolly, as if making a casual observation on an experiment. It only serves to make you whimper and rock your hips into him impatiently.
After only a few more moments he removes his fingers and you whine at the loss, ready to verbally complain until you feel him shift beneath you and you hear the familiar sound of a zipper.
You use what little strength you have left in your arms to lift your upper body and sneak a peak over your shoulder as he pushes his pants down enough to release himself. The familiar sight of his cock, not particularly girthy but long and flushed with desire makes you clench around nothing, nearly losing your breath when a dribble of precum catches in the fluorescent lights. Albedo’s cock, like the rest of him, is achingly pretty.
Your silent admiration is cut short when he grabs your hips again, pushing you up just high enough to perch directly above his length, the head brushing against your opening. Your breath hitches in anticipation as you gaze unsteadily down at the table, your forgotten homework staring back mockingly.
“Are you ready?” he asks softly.
Without turning around you can feel how his gaze lingers on the back of your head, patiently awaiting your permission regardless of how apparent your arousal is.
The tenderness makes your chest clench.
“Yes,” you whisper, and it is enough to have Albedo steadily easing you down, breaching your walls even as they spasm at the intrusion.
It stings even more so than usual due to the limited preparation, Albedo undoubtedly mindful of how the two of you are still in his lab where other students or professors could walk in at any moment. Even so, the moment he bottoms out, his tip brushing against something deep deep inside of you, you can process little more than pleasure as you call out for him to please just move already.
Ever attentive, Albedo follows your instructions, using his grip on your waist to rock your body into him, forcing you to follow his pace even as your legs begin to tingle from their unconventional position trapped between his thighs and the armrests of the chair.
Albedo steadily picks up the pace, the force of his thrusts threatening to knock the wind out of you as your whole body shakes with the momentum. The slick slaps of your skin against one another echo around the laboratory walls but your mind is too preoccupied with the sensation of him battering your insides to even consider keeping the noise down.
You squeal when he suddenly pulls you towards him. Your back meets his chest, warm even with layers of clothing between you two and his right hand snakes around to pull your skirt higher, offering you the perfect view of his cock moving inside of you when you look down, spearing your pussy open repeatedly while your arousal clings to you thighs and the dark fabric of his pants in cloudy strands.
“You’re more responsive than usual—perhaps you’ve always wanted to be defiled in my lab,” Albedo muses, lips nearly brushing your ear with how close he is.
You want to deny it. You want to look away. You want to disappear from the shame—but instead you clench harder around him, tearing a stuttered moan from his lips as you babble out something you hope resembles a denial.
“If you keep that up I might not be able to hold back,” Albedo warns, breathless.
The hand holding up your skirt shifts downward to apply pressure to your swollen clit, circling the nub relentlessly until you’re jerking around in his lap, unsure if you want to be closer or further away.
“P-please,” you whimper helplessly.
“Hm? You don’t want me to hold back?”
If he was hoping for an answer you don’t provide one, merely shaking uselessly in his arms as he bounces you on his cock like a ragdoll. Your stomach tightens while your thoughts scatter.
“Do you want me to breed you?”
The moan his suggestion rips from your throat borders on pornographic and he shudders when he feels the way you gush around him, sullying his slacks beyond repair. It only encourages him to fuck into your willing body faster, rutting into you with a force that would knock you off his lap if it weren’t for the firm hold he has on your body. You swear you can almost feel the tip of his cock brushing your cervix on a particularly hard thrust.
“Ah,” he huffs out, “of course you do—it’s the natural biological response. Your body craves to be bred, filled with my seed until you’re nice and swollen, fulfilling your duty to repopulate the species."
You can barely understand what he’s saying anymore but your body seems to respond anyway, heating to the point you fear you’ll burn from the inside out, your walls rhythmically clenching around his pistoning length, urging him to release deep inside of you, to leave his mark.
Abruptly, he pinches your clit, urging you to yelp as the tension in your body snaps, spasming until he’s stuttering your name and spilling inside of you, painting you walls with his own hot release. His hips stutter for a few thrusts before he resorts to just gently grinding into you, fingers releasing your clit to avoid overstimulating you.
The two of you take a few moments to catch your breaths, limbs feeling like jelly as you lie against him, your own heartbeat loud in your ears.
At some point, you eyes flutter closed and your exhausted body threatens to fall asleep until you feel him shift beneath you, softening length still lodged firmly inside of you.
“Y/n,” Albedo starts, voice entirely too steady to have just fucked your brains out thirty seconds ago.
You murmur noncommittally, secretly hoping he’ll just let the two of you rest for an hour or two.
“You still need to finish your homework.”