Chapter Text
Being a TA isn’t the worst job in the world.
Okay, yes, so Laura might’ve preferred being a barista, or an employee at Silas’ on-campus bookstore, but she could do a lot worse than being a TA for Professor Klaus’ English class. Even with its meager pay it’s better than nothing.
And sure, there’s the odd disrespectful student that flat out ignores Laura when she’s handing out papers or addressing the class (the cons of looking perpetually sixteen), or there’s the odd asshole student who thinks with a bit of puppy dog eyes she’ll up his grade from a C- to an A+ (talk about barking up the wrong lesbian; plus that wouldn’t even work if said puppy dog eyes were coming from a female. Laura has morals) because she’s apparently “less scary and threatening than Professor Klaus,” and it pretty much cuts Laura’s social life in half because her workload essentially doubles.
Then again, it’s not like Laura had a packed social calendar in the first place, evidenced by how out of place she feels at the packed bar Danny has dragged her to on a Saturday night, two days before the fall semester officially starts.
“Kirsch just texted, he’s on his way, says he’ll be here soon,” Danny shouts over the loud music, appearing back at the table Laura has commandeered armed with a tray full of drinks. Oh joy, just what Laura needs; to feel like an awkward third wheel to her roommate and her not quite boyfriend.
Laura graciously accepts the first shot of whatever Danny offers her, which smells, and thankfully tastes, like straight sugar, before going back to sipping at her regular-sized drink, something an alarmingly bright shade of orange and that tastes like fruit and tequila. Danny chatters at top speed about something in her English syllabus she’s excited about starting, sliding a few more of the sugary tasting shots towards Laura, until Kirsch shows up. His cheerful greeting of hey hotties promptly changes to hey Danny, hey Laura and he cowers slightly under the dual glares thrown at him.
Danny promptly starts distributing more alcohol, shoving a shot of…something under Laura’s nose, and she grimaces as she catches a whiff of what smells like bleach, plucking the shot glass gingerly from her hand.
“So, we are gathered here today to congratulate Laura,” Kirsch announces, raising his shot of bright pink liquid in a toast. “To your successful employment!”
“Yes, congratulations Hollis,” Danny continues. “May you be the best English TA Silas has ever known, may you not incur the wrath of Professor Klaus, and may you have no illicit affairs with students.”
They clink glasses, Kirsch howls with laughter at the scandalised look Laura is sure is on her face, and Laura downs the shot of what not only smells like bleach, but also tastes like it.
“That is disgusting,” she coughs, waving her hand in Danny’s face to signal a polite hell no when she proffers another shot at her. “I’m getting another drink. One that isn’t going to burn a hole in my throat.”
Danny waves her off, immediately turning to Kirsch with a sickening smile on her face. Laura rolls her eyes — they’re fooling precisely no one — and shoves her way through the crowd towards the bar. She orders the most sugary sounding thing on the menu, and while the bartender is busy making it, someone slides into the small gap in between Laura and the sombrero-wearing frat boy to her right.
“Hey cutie.” A low voice washes over Laura, and once she glances around and realises it must be aimed at her, she turns to be met with a cocky smirk and a pair of bedroom eyes that send a shiver straight down her spine.
“Uh, hi?” Laura squeaks, hoping her voice doesn’t actually sound as annoyingly high pitched to the other girl, who is perhaps the hottest person Laura has ever seen in her entire life, as it does to her.
The bartender chooses that moment to reappear, sliding Laura’s drink across the bar and announcing seven euros please in a bored voice. Before Laura can rifle around in her pocket for some cash, the mysterious attractive stranger is handing a ten-euro note to the bartender and telling him to keep the change.
Hot Girl picks up the drink — an alarming shade of cyan this time, and Laura idly wonders if this bar has any normal coloured drinks — and hands it to Laura with a wink, before sliding an arm brazenly around Laura’s waist and escorting her away from the bar. Okay then, clearly this girl works fast.
She leads Laura away from the throng of frat boys congregating around the bar to a little alcove opposite the pool table, and Laura takes the opportunity to surreptitiously check out at her new companion. Leather jacket, black jeans so tight they look painted on, dark hair that Laura can picture herself tangling her fingers in tumbling in waves down her shoulders, and a smug looking smirk that alerts Laura to the fact her leering isn’t as subtle as she’d hoped.
Hot Girl turns to face her when they stop walking, but her hand doesn’t leave Laura’s body, drifting round from the small of her back to rest on her hip. Laura glances down at it, taking a large sip of her drink to try and ease how flustered she feels. It doesn’t really work.
“Little presumptuous, don’t you think? Dragging me over here?” Laura babbles like an idiot, since apparently being around a girl with a jawline probably sculpted by Michelangelo himself reduces her brain function to that of a coma patient. “What if I was planning on going straight back to my friends after I got my drink?”
“I don’t think your friends are going to be looking for you anytime soon, cupcake,” Hot Girl says, raising an eyebrow and nodding her head towards Laura’s previous table. Laura turns around and catches sight of Danny and Kirsch, attached at the mouth and oblivious to everyone around them. Typical. “And well, I wouldn’t say it was completely presumptuous when it’s pretty clear that you’re…interested.”
Laura turns back around at the low purr of the stranger’s voice. She seems a lot closer than before Laura witnessed Danny and Kirsch failing miserably at not being a couple, and now she’s close enough that Laura can see the exact shade of brown her eyes are. And how dark her pupils are. She gulps.
Laura might be a little…slow on the uptake sometimes, but even she isn’t oblivious enough to not realise she’s being blatantly hit on. “What makes you so sure I’m interested? I don’t even know your name.”
“I’m Carmilla. And it’s just a guess. I could be wrong,” she says with a smirk, her thumb slipping under the hem of Laura’s shirt and brushing against her hip. “But I’m usually pretty good at telling when a girl is interested in me.”
So, Carmilla seems like kind of an arrogant douche. However, she’s also incredibly hot, and a total stranger. Perfect one night stand material, Laura muses.
“I’m Laura,” she says, and after two seconds of internal debating — Danny and Kirsch are always telling her to let loose a little after all — she decides to throw caution to the wind. “And well, clearly the interest is reciprocated.”
It’s far from the smoothest of lines, but it appears to work, if Carmilla inching closer to her is any indication.
“Oh definitely,” Carmilla murmurs, her eyes drifting down to Laura’s lips where they’re wrapped around the straw, a predatory grin on her face.
Carmilla’s thumb ceases brushing against her hip, and instead her entire hand slips under Laura’s shirt, nails dragging lightly against her skin as her hand slides around to Laura’s back to pull her closer, close enough that the backs of Laura’s hands brush against her jacket where they’re still clinging onto the drink. Close enough that Laura can smell her perfume, making her head spin more than any of the alcohol she’s already consumed. Close enough for Laura to reach out to the nearest table to place her half-finished drink down, before mustering up the courage to grab the lapels of Carmilla’s jacket and tug her forward into a kiss.
Ten minutes later, Laura’s back is against the wall, her hands tangled in Carmilla’s hair, her tongue in her mouth and Carmilla’s hips pressing against her, grinding achingly slowly.
“You wanna get out of here?” Carmilla mumbles into her mouth, vocalising what Laura has wanted to say since Carmilla popped up beside her at the bar, but not had quite enough guts to say out loud.
Laura really isn’t the type for one night stands, but she’s slightly inebriated, one of the hottest girls she’s ever seen is one ‘accidental’ brush away from full-on groping at her ass, and she’s clearly being propositioned, so what else is she supposed to do? Say no? Laura is not that kind of girl.
She groans, “Definitely,” while Carmilla kisses down her neck in a manner far too obscene for public. Carmilla chuckles, laving her tongue over Laura’s hammering pulse. “Your place or mine?”
“Yours,” Carmilla replies, dragging her mouth back to Laura’s and kissing her deeply. “I don’t think my roommate will appreciate being a witness to all the things I want to do to you.”
Good God.
Laura starts to worm her way out from between Carmilla and the wall, but gets stopped by Carmilla’s hands slipping down from her waist, shamelessly grabbing her ass, and pulling her back for another filthy kiss.
Somehow, Laura is still conscious and standing when Carmilla pulls back, licking her lips with a grin. “Okay, now we can leave.” She gestures towards the exit. “After you, sweetheart.”
/
Laura’s apartment that she shares with Danny is only a ten minute walk from the bar, but it takes them at least double that to finally reach it, what with Carmilla’s wandering hands that lead to regular pauses to make out against a wall or an appropriately clean looking lamppost. Carmilla suitably distracts Laura from finding the correct key by letting her hands drift up the front of Laura’s shirt while she kisses her neck, and once they’ve stumbled through the door Laura has enough presence of mind to text Danny and politely request she stays with Kirsch tonight — I have an 'overnight guest' so if you're not staying at Kirsch's I suggest you wear earplugs :) — before she drops her keys and phone onto the table beside the front door and lets Carmilla pin her against the wall.
Carmilla wasn’t exactly shy about touching her and kissing her in the bar, but now that they’re alone Carmilla seems to have zero reservations about kissing Laura heatedly. Her tongue licks into Laura’s mouth as Laura pushes at the leather of her jacket, and Carmilla lets go of her hips long enough to shuck her jacket off. Laura’s jacket follows almost instantly, hitting the floor with a quiet thump, and then Carmilla’s fingers are on the buttons of Laura’s shirt, undoing them quickly.
An embarrassingly loud moan echoes down the hallway when Carmilla ducks her head to drag long hot kisses onto Laura’s chest, undoing the last button and leaving Laura to wriggle out of the shirt and let it join the pile of clothing on the floor.
“God you’re so fucking hot,” Carmilla whimpers against her chest, trailing her lips up and up towards Laura’s ear, tugging gently on the lobe with her teeth.
Laura moans, manages to gasp out a desperate sounding, “You’re not too bad yourself,” and leans her head back against the wall, tangling her hands in Carmilla’s hair. Carmilla continues her assault on Laura’s neck and chest, kissing every inch of exposed skin and sucking bruises across her body. Her hands drop from Laura’s back to squeeze her ass, sliding her hands down further to the back of Laura’s thighs, urging her to wrap one leg around her waist.
Laura acquiesces, and Carmilla does the same with her other leg before picking her up easily, which, okay wow. She thrusts her hips forward, grinding hard against Laura while her teeth graze over her pulse point, and if Laura wasn’t turned on enough already, she certainly is now, and wants nothing more than to get them both very naked very soon.
“Where’s your bedroom?” Good thing Carmilla appears to be on the same wavelength.
“Second door on the right,” Laura groans as Carmilla starts kissing down her neck, sucking harshly at the base of it.
Managing not to trip or drop Laura as she stumbles down the hallway, Carmilla carries her into her bedroom, kicks the door closed after her, before making a beeline for the bed and depositing Laura on it, following to crawl on top of her immediately. She leans up on her knees to yank her shirt over her head, and Laura feels her mouth drop open as she stares at Carmilla’s torso.
“Try not to let your tongue fall completely out of your mouth cupcake,” Carmilla purrs, prowling back over Laura on all fours and leaning down to brush their lips together teasingly. “You’re going to need it later.”
Laura’s moan is swallowed by Carmilla’s mouth when she kisses her deeply, teeth nibbling at her bottom lip before her tongue strokes into her mouth. Carmilla doesn’t seem to have a lot of patience — not that Laura’s complaining — and her hands immediately slide under Laura’s body to unclasp her bra, tugging the straps off her shoulders and throwing it across the room.
Laura’s hands fly to the back of Carmilla’s head when she breaks the kiss in favour of dragging her lips down Laura’s throat, and across her chest. Carmilla promptly wraps her lips around one nipple, her hand coming up to her other breast and her fingers brushing across the nipple, and if she’s bothered by the way Laura digs her nails into her scalp, she doesn’t show it.
Laura squirms beneath Carmilla’s weight on top of her, whimpering and moaning quietly while Carmilla spends what feels like hours sucking and tugging at her nipples. A thigh makes its way between her legs, pressing against her and Laura’s too far-gone and far too wet to care about seeming desperate when she rocks up against Carmilla’s leg.
Carmilla’s teeth graze across the nipple caught between her lips and Laura groans out a ragged ugh Carmilla please, which Carmilla thankfully listens to, letting go of Laura’s nipple with a wet pop, before starting to make her way further down her body.
Carmilla sucks a few marks against Laura’s hipbones as her fingers go to the waistband of her jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them before dragging them down Laura’s legs as far as she can, leaving Laura to kick them off. Her soaked underwear follows quickly, and before she knows it Carmilla is pushing her thighs apart and sliding a finger into her.
One finger quickly turns into two, pushing in and pulling out of Laura roughly as Carmilla starts kissing her way back up Laura’s body. It feels incredible, and Laura tosses her head back against the pillow to moan embarrassingly loudly, her hips jerking up against Carmilla’s hand.
Carmilla stops at her chest, swirling her tongue around her nipples again and tugging on them lightly with her teeth. Laura gasps out a string of curse words when Carmilla circles her thumb against her clit, one hand clawing at the bed sheets, the other tugging on Carmilla’s hair.
Lips slide against her neck as Carmilla sucks what is probably going to be a giant hickey against the skin of her throat, and she briefly considers telling Carmilla not to leave a mark, but then teeth are scraping against her skin and Laura forgets every word in the English language that isn’t a swear word or Carmilla’s name.
“You feel good, cutie,” Carmilla purrs into her ear, nibbling at the skin just below. “I wanted to fuck you the second I saw you. The entire time we were talking, all I could think about was doing this—“ She pushes a third finger in, curls them roughly and Laura’s eyes roll back in pleasure. “—while you were spread out naked underneath me.”
Laura’s gasping and whimpering too much for Carmilla to really kiss her, and before she knows it Carmilla is slipping back down her body, and then there’s a warm tongue sliding across her clit right as the fingers inside her curl and brush right against the spot that makes her see stars.
“Fuck, Carmilla, I’m—“ she babbles, the heat pooling in her lower abdomen getting hotter and hotter until Carmilla’s tongue slides against her clit just right, and she goes flying over the edge with a long moan of ecstasy.
Carmilla’s fingers continue sliding in and out gently, bringing her down from her high, until Laura collapses breathlessly against the bed.
Laura watches through half-lidded eyes as Carmilla sucks her fingers into her mouth to clean them off, before fixing her with a grin so predatory that it might actually be terrifying if it didn’t make Laura want to fuck her through the mattress.
Laura reaches up to grab the back of Carmilla’s head, intending to kiss the smug arrogance right off of Carmilla’s pretty face. She groans against Carmilla’s lips at the taste of herself on the other girl’s mouth, bites at her bottom lip and sucks on her tongue, kissing her deeply until Carmilla is shifting to straddle her waist and grinding down hard against Laura’s stomach.
She gets the message of I want you to fuck me please hurry up pretty quickly — although she gets the feeling Carmilla isn’t the type to say please — and pushes at Carmilla’s shoulder until they’re rolling over and Laura’s settled in between Carmilla’s legs.
Lifting herself up to hover over Carmilla, Laura pushes her hips forward to grind against Carmilla slowly, just so she can watch the way her eyes flutter shut in pleasure. She does it again and again, until Carmilla’s nails are digging into her shoulders and she’s whimpering quietly in time with the rhythm of Laura's hips. Her head is tossed back, her hair a dark mess against Laura's bright yellow pillow, her eyes shut and her mouth half open while her hips rock up to meet each thrust. It's a pretty great sight, and Laura commits it to memory for future use.
“Laura,” Carmilla whines, and Laura’s pretty sure that’s the first time Carmilla’s referred to her as her actual name, and not cutie or cupcake or sweetheart. She likes the way her name sounds as a breathy gasp coming from Carmilla, but she’ll probably like it more when Carmilla’s moaning it loudly.
“Much as I enjoy grinding like two teenagers in the backseat of a car,” Carmilla groans, her voice ragged. “Are you actually planning on fucking me anytime this decade?”
Laura laughs, “Well, since you asked so nicely.”
Bypassing Carmilla's mouth, she leans down to trail kisses along her jaw and down her throat. Carmilla's hands drift down to her ass, pulling Laura against her harder, and Laura happily complies, picking up the pace of rolling her hips against Carmilla to pull long low moans from her mouth.
Laura moves down to her collarbone, sucking hard as payback for the hickey she can feel blooming on her neck, and smiling when she hears Carmilla groan and feels her shiver underneath her. Laura disposes of Carmilla’s bra quickly, slipping her hands around to Carmilla’s back, unclasping it and pulling it off to throw onto the floor, before peppering kisses down towards her bare chest.
Carmilla whimpers breathily when Laura’s mouth closes around her nipple, flicking her tongue against it and sucking gently. Laura feels hands tangle in her hair to hold her in place and she glances up. Carmilla’s hair is fanned out against the pillow, her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth and she’s watching Laura through dark half-lidded eyes.
Heat surges through Laura at the lust-filled look being directed at her, as does the sudden urge to have Carmilla shaking and gasping underneath her as soon as possible. Once she’s paid an equal amount of attention to Carmilla’s other breast, and Carmilla’s whimpering quietly, her fingers tightening in Laura’s hair and her hips twitching upwards, Laura starts making her way down Carmilla’s body, leaving a trail of light red marks down her stomach — something to remember her by — before she gets to the waistband of Carmilla’s insanely tight pants.
Quickly, she undoes them and peels them off Carmilla’s legs, along with the tiny scrap of red lace that’s masquerading as underwear, before tossing them behind her and raking her gaze over Carmilla's naked body. Laura doesn’t miss the shiver that goes through Carmilla when she pushes her legs apart and licks her lips at the sight of Carmilla wet and open before her, settling back down between them. Sliding her hands around to get a good grip on Carmilla’s hips, Laura leans forward to kiss her way slowly up the inside of her thigh, nipping and sucking as she goes.
A low strangled moan rips its way from Carmilla’s throat at the first stroke of Laura’s tongue, sliding through wet heat from bottom to top, before swirling over her clit. Laura groans quietly at the taste, pressing her tongue back against Carmilla and licking at her relentlessly. She traces light circles around Carmilla’s clit with her tongue, sucks it into her mouth and flicks at it repeatedly with her tongue, licks broad strokes through her, pushes her tongue into Carmilla as deep as she can, all to see what Carmilla likes best.
Carmilla seems to like everything Laura does. Her hips rut up against Laura’s face repeatedly, there’s a constant stream of moans and curse words falling from her lips, and when Laura glances up, Carmilla’s head is thrown back against the pillows, eyes squeezed shut and mouth half open, and her chest is heaving.
The sight sends Laura’s libido skyrocketing again, and her pulse drops to throb between her legs. She doubles her efforts with her tongue, licking and sucking until Carmilla’s whole body is quivering, she’s gasping raggedly, her back is arching, and then she’s coming with a unrestrained and incoherent moan.
Laura laps at Carmilla’s clit a few more times, prolonging the aftershocks, before crawling back up her body, where Carmilla immediately pulls her into a messy kiss. Laura moans into it when she realises Carmilla will be able to taste herself on Laura’s tongue, and shifts to straddle one of her thighs, shamelessly rolling her hips down against it in an attempt to alleviate the ache between her own legs that flared right back up at the sight of Carmilla falling apart.
“Holy shit, you’re good at that,” Carmilla mumbles breathlessly. Laura shivers as Carmilla drags her nails lightly down her back, taking ahold of her hips and encouraging her grinding against Carmilla’s thigh.
Laura groans, and Carmilla smirks, leaning up to kiss her again. “I take it you’re not too tired for another round, then?”
She’s not.
/
Laura wakes up the next morning (afternoon) to the sunlight streaming in through her open curtains, and with the beginnings of a thankfully small hangover. A voice that sounds suspiciously like Danny’s crows the word lightweight gleefully in her head, which doesn't help the headache Laura can feel approaching. She buries her face further into her pillow, trying to will some helpful clouds to take pity on her and drift in front of the sun to make it stop brightening up her room, and catches a whiff of an unfamiliar perfume.
Which is when she remembers she had company last night.
Laura doesn’t hear or feel anyone behind her, and when she rolls over to be met with rumpled sheets and an empty bed it confirms her suspicions that Carmilla’s already left. There’s no sign of any kind of note with a number, or even a thanks for the sex cutie, scrawled at the bottom left on her desk. How rude.
Then again, Carmilla did seem like kind of a douche, so despite how amazing the sex was, it's probably better that the previous night stays an extremely pleasant memory.
Her stomach rumbles loudly, and Laura untangles herself from the sheets and heaves herself out of bed, pulling on clean underwear and the first shirt her hand comes into contact with when she opens her closet.
On her way to the door, she pauses in front of the mirror to inspect the damage left by her guest. There are two visible hickeys, one on her neck and the other just above her left breast, faint smears of lipstick across both nipples and her lower stomach, and Laura doesn’t need to twist round to look at her back to know there’ll be red lines raked into it, courtesy of Carmilla’s nails dragging down her back.
Quickly buttoning the oversized — like, seriously oversized; she thinks it might be Danny’s. Or Kirsch’s. For someone who is absolutely not Danny’s boyfriend, his shirts turn up an awful lot in the laundry — plaid shirt up, Laura steps out of her room, and her gaze immediately lands on the shirt she was wearing last night laying on the floor outside the bathroom door. At the same time, she hears familiar humming coming from the kitchen. Bracing herself for a full twenty-four hour’s worth of teasing and sex jokes, she shuffles into the kitchen.
“Good afternoon you little sex fiend,” Danny beams at her. "There's a trail of your clothes leading down the hallway to your room, so I take it you had a good night?"
Laura grunts an affirmative noise, busying herself with making coffee. She is adamant that it still counts as coffee even if she dumps three teaspoons of sugar and some vanilla syrup in it, despite what Danny claims. Whatever Danny's doing at the stove smells like there’s a large amount of grease and calories involved and it makes Laura’s stomach rumble again.
“Where’s your friend?”
“Left before I woke up,” Laura replies, plonking herself down at the kitchen table with her coffee, awaiting a plateful of Danny's magic hangover cure.
“She good? You get her number? Going to see her again?” Danny bombards her with questions while she distribute scrambled eggs and rashers of bacon onto two plates. A slice of buttered toast follows, and then the plate gets placed in front of Laura for her to dig in to.
“Ugh, you are a goddess,” Laura exaggeratedly moans through a huge mouthful of food. She’s still waiting for the day where she somehow manages to absorb Danny’s cooking talents via osmosis, since Danny’s attempts at helping her expand her cooking skills past sandwiches and picking up the phone to order takeout usually end in situations such as The Waffle-On-Fire Incident, or The Exploding Potato Disaster.
“Thank you. You can address me as Your Highness from now on,” Danny deadpans, before returning to her interrogation. “So, answer the question. Do we need to schedule times when I need to be far, far away from the apartment so you can get your freak on with leather girl?”
Laura quirks an eyebrow in question. She thinks she’d remember introducing Carmilla to Danny. Hello Dan this is the girl I’m going to spend pretty much the entire night screwing, please stay at Kirsch’s tonight so you aren’t scarred for life, thanks. “I saw you guys leaving the bar,” Danny explains. Clearly it must've been one of the few moments she didn't have her tongue down Kirsch's throat. “Caught sight of her jacket and the back of her head. It was a nice jacket and back of the head, congrats Hollis. I’m proud.”
“The top of her head’s a nicer view,” Laura says without thinking, laughing when Danny nearly chokes on a forkful of eggs. “And no, don’t worry, I think she was just a one time thing. I didn’t get her number and she didn’t leave a note or anything, so I’m probably never gonna see her again.”
Danny hums in agreement, and changes the subject to something Summer Society related, and Laura lets the previous night drift further away from the forefront of her memory. Really, it’s a big city, so what are the chances of her bumping into Carmilla ever again?
/
After a ten am psychology lecture on Monday morning, Laura has half an hour to make her way to the other side of campus to Professor Klaus’ classroom for her first TA class of the day. She stops at the coffee shop to get some hot chocolate, which the barista manages to screw up twice, and she ends up having to race up the three flights of stairs when the out of order sign on the elevator stares at her mockingly. She dashes into the classroom, only a few seconds after Professor Klaus. Being late her first day might not have made the best impression, and Laura would rather not be subjected to being yelled at by a six foot scary German lady.
Thankfully, the nerves building up in her stomach that she has steadfastly refused to acknowledge are completely unfounded; the class goes smoothly. The room full of students — a lot more than Laura was expecting — actually pay attention to her, and she manages not to embarrass herself by doing something stupid like tripping over on her way to the trashcan.
The class lets out two hours later, Professor Klaus almost immediately dashing out of the door, muttering something about an important meeting and throwing a goodbye over her shoulder at Laura. Laura's not meeting LaFontaine at the library until one pm, so she takes her time packing up her stuff while the students slowly trickle out of the room.
She’s just about to stand up and head out when a familiar voice pipes up. “Hey sweetheart.”
Laura’s head snaps up in horror to see the last person she ever imagined to see in front of her desk, a look of pleased amusement on her face. A look that the last time Laura saw it, she was kissing it off her before going down on her for a third time in one night.
“What are you doing here?” Laura blurts out stupidly. And slightly rudely.
Carmilla raises an eyebrow, a hint of that familiar smirk tugging at her lips. "I’m in your class this semester.”
Oh.
Oh no.
“Um, so you are,” Laura stutters after glancing down at the class list that, had she bothered to look at it, would’ve told her that Karnstein, Carmilla is indeed one of the students in her class.
“I didn’t think you’d realised I was here, so I figured I should uh, come say hello.”
There’s a full blown smirk on her mouth now, a mouth that Laura vividly remembers kissing almost every square inch of her body, and there’s several incredibly inappropriate teacher/student roleplay scenarios flying through her head right now that she absolutely cannot think about because Carmilla is now her student.
Oh God, Carmilla is her student. She’s Carmilla’s teacher. Sort of.
Carmilla’s staring at her like she knows exactly what kind of dirty things Laura’s thinking, and more worryingly, that she’s thinking the exact same thing.
“Um, thank you,” Laura squeaks, trying to will away the flush she can feel spreading across her face. “You uh, you never mentioned you went to Silas."
“Neither did you,” Carmilla points out with a raised eyebrow. Laura prays the I didn’t get a chance to tell you I go to Silas because I was too busy fucking you senseless is going to go unsaid. "Although I guess we didn't really do much talking, did we?" Guess not.
Laura wonders if this is some kind of nightmare.
Carmilla smiles like she hasn't just reminded her TA of the night they spent a majority of naked. “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, Laur- uh, Professor Hollis.”
Oh dear God Laura thinks she’s going to explode.
“I’m not a professor,” she babbles nervously, desperately trying not to think of roleplay scenario number five where Carmilla has her bent over the desk that’s currently separating them. “Just a TA. So uh, you don’t need to call me professor.” Please don’t call me professor it’s only going to feed my wildly inappropriate fantasies about my student is what she wants to say, but doesn’t. Because that would be inappropriate. “Just Laura is fine.”
“Okay,” Carmilla smiles, hitching her red messenger bag further up her shoulder. Laura recognises the jacket she has on as the same one Carmilla was wearing that night, the one that makes her look like a damn goddess in leather. “Laura.”
Laura represses the shudder that tries valiantly to make its way through her body when she remembers the last time she heard her name coming from Carmilla’s mouth, the other girl was moaning it wantonly as she rode three of Laura’s fingers.
“Yeah. Um, see you tomorrow Carmilla,” Laura squeaks, and Carmilla bites her lip like she’s remembering the last time she heard her name in Laura’s voice. If Laura remembers correctly, it was when Carmilla had an arm thrown over her body to keep her hips immobile while her tongue licked her to two consecutive orgasms.
“By the way,” Carmilla says airily as she turns to leave for the door, swaying her hips in a way that Laura is sure is deliberate. Not that she’s looking. Of course not. “Nice scarf.”
Laura blinks in confusion for a second, trying to deduce if there’s an ulterior motive or reason for the compliment, or if Carmilla just really likes blue plaid, before she remembers the enormous hickey still decorating the left side of her neck that the scarf is hiding.
Laura groans loudly into the empty classroom, and she hears Carmilla’s faint laughter drifting in from the hallway.
She is doomed.
/
LaFontaine howls with laughter for at least ten minutes straight, before they make Laura tell them the story again, before laughing for another ten minutes.
“So, you fucked your student,” they grin like this is all a big joke. They’re not the one panicking about their reputation and current employment here.
“She wasn’t my student when we met!” Laura objects. “How the hell was I supposed to know the next time I saw her was going to be in my English class?” She groans, letting her head drop into her hands. “Oh God, I’m going to get fired. I slept with a student, and Professor Klaus and the rest of the administration are going to find out and they’re going to fire me and I’ll probably get sent to prison.”
“I’ll be sure to look out for your guest starring role on the next season of Orange Is The New Black.”
“LaFontaine.”
“Okay, sorry,” they say, holding their hands up in surrender. “Look, you’re not going to go to prison alright? A TA sleeping with one of their students isn’t illegal, it’s just…”
“Wildly unprofessional?” Laura offers.
“Well, yeah,” LaFontaine nods. “Anyway you’re only going to get into trouble, and okay yes, possibly fired, if someone finds out about it, and I take it you’re not going to go running to the Dean to tell her in graphic detail about your roll in the hay with a student?”
“Oh my God no. Dean Morgan terrifies me enough as it is, I don’t need her out for my blood because I couldn’t keep it in my pants.”
“Well do you think Carmilla would tell anyone about it?”
“I don’t know,” Laura whines, dragging out the last word into a long knooooooow. “I met the girl once LaF, and we didn’t exactly do a whole lot of talking. All I know about her is what she looks like naked.”
Danny chooses that moment to show up, brandishing her phone and asking what the huge emergency is that she got texted about, multiple times, in all caps, from both Laura and LaFontaine.
“Laura slept with one of her students,” LaFontaine supplies unhelpfully.
“That is not what happened!” Laura squeaks.
“Already?" Danny says, fixing her with an expression that somehow manages to be both disapproving and impressed. "It’s only the first day of the semester Laura.”
Laura rehashes the Carmilla story, LaFontaine laughs for another ten minutes, and Danny gives her a look of sympathy.
“Oh God, that sucks,” she says, glaring at LaFontaine and their muffled laughter on Laura’s behalf. “But is she even technically your student? You’re just a TA.”
“I’m pretty sure it still counts, Danny. Like, I grade papers and I’ll see their test papers before they do and stuff, so I have that like, advantage of power over her or whatever.”
Laura kicks LaFontaine under the table when they mumble something under their breath about a different kind of advantage of power. They squeak fuck louder than intended, and the librarian glares menacingly at all three of them.
“Maybe you should talk to her about it?” LaFontaine suggests, thankfully lowering their voice. “See where she stands on it, and if she’s going to tell any of the faculty about it.”
It’s a good idea. Hopefully Carmilla isn’t interested in airing their indiscretion to anyone of relative importance at Silas, such as the Dean, and they can just pretend it never happened.
“I agree,” Danny pipes up. “Just ask her if she’s going to keep quiet, and if she says no, then you can tell the Dean, or Klaus or whoever first, and they’ll probably just move her to a different class if you explain it properly. And if she says yes, then hallelujah, you’re both safe and no one will have to get fired or transferred,” she continues, making it sound oh so simple. Her eyebrows furrow. “You know, unless you end up fucking her again. You don’t want to though, right?”
A bigger-than-she’d-like-to-admit, extremely immoral part of her screams that yes, she wants to fuck Carmilla again, regardless of who’s a student and who’s a TA, but Laura does her best to squash that annoying part, instead saying, “No, I have no intentions of sleeping with her again. If they don’t fire me for sleeping with a student before she was actually my student, they definitely will if I sleep with her while she is my student.”
“Good point,” LaFontaine says, looking deep in thought. “You know now that I think about it, I heard JP, my biology TA from last year, going on about some kind of policy rulebook he got given.” They raise their eyebrows, waiting to see if Laura has any clue what they’re talking about. Laura vaguely recalls flipping through the handbook full of rules and regulations she got given before shoving it somewhere on her bookcase. “Different schools probably have different policies on things like this, so it’ll probably say in there if you’re prohibited from having, uh…relations with a student.”
“Yeah,” Danny agrees enthusiastically. “Like I said, you’re technically not her teacher, so maybe you’ll be fine.”
Laura can only hope.
/
Rifling through her bookcase later that day, Laura eventually finds the TA handbook wedged between a copy of Harry Potter & The Chamber of Secrets and the first season of Veronica Mars.
Teaching Assistants are prohibited from having relationships (whether sexual, romantic or familial in nature) with a student of whom they have authority (evaluative, supervisory or instructional) over. Long-term preexisting relationships must be reported to the department head and/or Dean of Students for discussion and assessment. Failure to comply with these rules will result in removal of the student from the class, and in extreme cases the Teaching Assistant will be relieved of their duties and be terminated from the Silas University staff.
Oh God.
/
Danny suggests a movie night complete with their combined body weight in popcorn to try and get Laura’s mind off it. Two minutes into the movie, Laura realises that it is not Cruel Intentions, and is in fact Bloomington, and slams her bedroom door pointedly after stomping off to escape Danny’s laughing.
She needs new friends.
/
The good news is that Laura successfully makes it through the rest of her first week without making a complete imbecile of herself. The bad news is that Carmilla’s out the door before Laura can catch her on both Tuesday and Friday, and Laura doesn’t see her lurking around campus any other time, so she hasn't had a chance to talk to her about not telling anyone about their...pre-existing acquaintancy. Therefore she's spent the last seven days living in a near constant state of terror that Dean Morgan is going to materialise in a cloud of disappointed smoke to personally fire her from her position.
The following Monday, Laura is resolved to talk to Carmilla, even if she has to chase her down the hallway. It’s not until the students are filing out of the door after the class is dismissed that she starts to feel nervous at the prospect of being alone in a room with Carmilla. Not that anything’s going to happen. It’s just— well the few other one night stands she’s had haven't then turned up in her English class a few days later, so she hasn’t had to deal with any awkwardness that could arise. She's slightly out of her depth here, that's all.
Laura glances up, trying to pick out Carmilla in the sea of people, before spotting her sauntering down from the back row, clad in ripped black jeans and that blasted leather jacket.
“Uh, Miss Karnstein?” Laura calls, and Carmilla’s head jerks up from staring at her phone. “A word, please?”
Miss Karnstein. Laura wants to smack herself in the face. There is literally no way Laura could have worded that without the underlying implications at an offer of round two — or technically a round like, seven or eight — but calling her Carmilla instead of Miss Karnstein might’ve helped.
“Hey,” Carmilla says, stopping in front of her desk and smiling at her. Laura’s thankful she doesn’t bust out any dumb nicknames. Yet.
She waits until the last remaining students have vanished out of the door before looking up at Carmilla. “Have you told anyone?” She blurts out before her brain gives her mouth permission to speak. Carmilla raises an eyebrow. “About, you know, you and I. Us. That we uh, knew each other already.”
“Did I tell anyone that I fucked my TA before I knew she was my TA?” Carmilla chuckles, and Laura tries not to squirm in her chair. “No, I didn’t.” Laura breathes a sigh of relief. Oh thank God. “I don’t kiss and tell. Or fuck and tell,” Carmilla continues, her voice lowering slightly and Laura promptly drops the pencil she’s been fiddling with. “Your job and reputation are both safe, don’t worry cutie.”
Somehow cutie seems a little underwhelming considering Laura still has a vivid memory of Carmilla candidly telling her how hot she is while her fingers worked her into orgasm number three. She’s slightly concerned that that was her first thought upon hearing the nickname, and not that Carmilla shouldn’t be calling her cutie at all.
Anyway.
So, Carmilla might say a few wildly inappropriate things referring to their night together, but she’s not going to rat her out to the Dean. Excellent. Fantastic. Superb.
Now onto a less pressing concern, but one that Laura has nonetheless. “Um, is this going to be weird? For you?”
Cause it’s going to be weird, right? Spending a lot of time in a professional environment with someone you spent an entire night having (amazing, incredible, fantastic) sex with has got to be at least slightly weird.
“Why would it be weird?” Carmilla shrugs, looking annoyingly unruffled.
Laura gapes at her. “Seriously?”
Okay, so Laura doesn’t exactly have an extensive repertoire of one night stands to draw appropriate post-sex etiquette from, but she’s pretty sure there’s got to be at least some residual awkwardness for a little while. Then again Carmilla had hit on her with way too much confidence for it to have been the first time she’s ever chatted up a total stranger in a bar, so maybe Carmilla finds herself in this position all the time.
“No, I mean specifically, which particular part would it make it weird? That we’ve seen each other naked? That I’ve had my fingers inside you? That I know what your tongue feels like on—“
“Carmilla!” Laura hisses, whipping her head round to make sure there’s no one lurking in the doorway to overhear. “I— We— You can’t say stuff like that okay. I’m your teacher.”
“You’re my TA, and somehow I doubt that principle still exists when you’ve already fucked a student,” Carmilla points out, and Laura wants to smack her in the face with the heaviest textbook she can find, just so Carmilla will stop talking. “And besides, that rule and all similar ones only apply to the faculty members. Doesn’t say anywhere that the students are prohibited from fantasising about their professors.” Carmilla pauses to blatantly rake her gaze across Laura. “Or TAs.”
Laura is incredibly glad there’s a desk between them preventing her from doing something completely stupid and impulsive.
“Why, is it gonna be weird for you?” Carmilla asks, and Laura is infinitely glad she doesn’t make another brazen sexual reference to that night. Laura shakes her head minutely, not trusting her voice. “Excellent. No one’s going to tell anyone, and no one’s going to feel weird about it. Glad that's cleared up. Guess I’ll see you around.”
Carmilla smirks at Laura and spins around, heading towards the door without waiting for a reply.
She’s almost out of the room when Laura blurts out, “Wait, why does it matter which part, specifically?” before she can tell herself that it’s probably a stupid question that she doesn’t want to know the answer to.
Carmilla turns around in the doorway and throws a lecherous smirk in Laura’s direction. “Just so I know which bit to not think about next time I touch myself. You know, just so it isn’t weird.”
Carmilla winks at her, breezing out the door and leaving Laura sitting slack jawed in the empty room. Definitely a question she didn’t need to know the answer to, because now all she can think about is Carmilla thinking about her.
Which is inappropriate.
Because Carmilla is her student.
And she cannot think about her student like this.
Oh God.
/
The first paper Professor Klaus assigns to the class is on Lord of The Flies. Laura spends at least twenty minutes cursing her bad luck, before reluctantly scrawling a big red A at the top of Carmilla’s paper.
The grade is because Carmilla’s paper is annoyingly good. It’s well thought out, well written, and Carmilla clearly has a good grasp on the book. It’s not because of the sex. She's knows that's how it could look, but it has nothing to do with the sex. Laura’s an adult; she’s perfectly capable of thinking rationally with her head, and not irrationally with her vagina.
She's busy wondering if Carmilla being placed in her class like a constant leather clad reminder of her classy one night stand is some kind of karma for when she stopped going to church at age eleven, when Danny finally shows up to the library.
She plops down opposite Laura and raises an eyebrow at Carmilla's paper sitting at the top of the marked pile.
“Wow. She must’ve been amazing in bed.”
Laura groans.
/
Danny (12:56pm): i was in the locker room earlier after a track team meeting and i overheard this girl complaining about how 'carmilla' didn't call her after 'the most life changing sex of her life' last night
Danny (12:57pm): your girl gets around
Laura (1:32pm): she's not my girl!!!
Danny (1:35pm): i see you didn’t dispute the sex being life changing
Laura (1:37pm): i hate you so much
Danny (2:56pm): i forgot my house key, can you come down and let me in?
Danny (2:58pm): ???
Danny (2:59pm): laura i know you’re home, your window is open and i can hear you singing the wicked soundtrack
Danny (3:05pm): laura!!!
/
The Thursday that Laura had planned to devote the entire day to studying for her own classes is the same day that Danny invites some of her Summer Society friends over, and they collectively decide on a full volume Mario Kart tournament. Laura huffs and stomps out of the apartment, laden with textbooks, and heads towards the nearest coffee shop when the first shriek of, “Fuck you Yoshi!” is hollered loudly down the hallway.
Once she’s at the creatively named Cafe Styria, a much quieter and less annoying environment than the apartment, Laura buys a latte and a cherry Danish, retreating to an empty table in the corner. She’s halfway through her psychology paper, chewing angrily on a piece of Danish (a second one) because she just can’t get this damn paragraph to sound right, when a voice interrupts her thoughts. “Well hello there, Professor.”
Laura glances up from glaring at her laptop, blinking at the sight of a certain student of hers standing on the other side of the table.
“Carmilla. Hi,” Laura says, unable to help the hopefully subtle once-over her eyes give Carmilla. She’s wearing shorts so tiny they’re probably illegal in some of the more conservative parts of Europe, black knee socks that really do not dissuade Laura’s incredibly inappropriate schoolgirl fantasies starring herself and Carmilla, and a red plaid shirt.
At the greeting, which she apparently takes as an invitation, Carmilla grins and places her coffee cup and chocolate donut down on the table. She nudges one of Laura’s textbooks out of the way so she can place her own down, and sits down in the empty seat opposite Laura.
“Please, feel free to join me,” Laura comments dryly.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Carmilla smiles smugly at her, before gesturing to Laura’s laptop. “What are you working on?”
“Psychology paper,” Laura says, watching Carmilla with mild suspicion. She’s not entirely sure what Carmilla’s doing here, or why she even decided to sit down opposite her, but for whatever reason, Laura doesn’t immediately tell her to get lost. Carmilla’s drink is in a takeaway cup, so clearly she wasn’t intending on staying, and now she’s sat opposite Laura, rifling through her bag for her own laptop and cheerfully informing Laura she has a philosophy paper due in the following day.
Having a study session with Carmilla Karnstein wasn’t exactly what Laura had envisioned when she’d escaped from her Mario Kart hell of an apartment, but an hour later she has to admit that she’s actually enjoying Carmilla’s company. She hasn’t made any inappropriate lewd comments (yet), she doesn’t try to initiate any games of footsie under the table, and when Laura swallows her pride and asks, she reads over parts of Laura’s psychology paper, giving her helpful suggestions about what to change so it doesn’t sound like a third grader wrote it.
There’s a brief moment of panic when Carmilla mentions her brother Will is three years younger than her, and the sudden realisation that Laura has no idea how old Carmilla is smacks her in the face with all the impact of a judge’s gavel sentencing her to jail.
Laura steers the conversation around to birthdays with the subtlety of a fire alarm, and tries not to make her sigh of relief too obvious when Carmilla tells her she turned nineteen in August.
Thank God, Carmilla isn’t some kind of genius sixteen year old child prodigy. Laura’s seen Orange Is The New Black. And Wentworth. And season five of The L Word. She would not survive jail.
Laura has almost managed to forget that a) Carmilla is her student, and b) that she’s slept with her, until Carmilla takes a bite of her donut, accidentally getting a smear of chocolate icing just above her top lip.
Laura watches, her mouth hanging open slightly as Carmilla wipes it off with her finger, immediately sucking the digit into her mouth and licking the icing off. Laura was not aware that someone licking icing off their finger, despite the obvious sexual innuendos of the action, could look quite so pornographic. Laura’s pretty sure that Carmilla over exaggerated on purpose. The smirk and wink thrown in her direction after Carmilla licks her lips confirms Laura’s theory.
“You don’t need to look quite so scared of me, cupcake, I’m not gonna bite you,” Carmilla says, wiggling her eyebrows in lieu of adding some ridiculous pervy comment about how Laura didn’t seem to mind the biting that night we spent hours fucking, did you sweetheart?
Scared isn’t exactly the word Laura would use for how to she feels in regards to Carmilla right now. Insanely turned on is probably more accurate. She’s never going to be able to look at a chocolate donut the same way ever again. That’s one of her five main food groups essentially ruined.
Laura sighs, pushing her laptop out of the way and leaning forward so there’s less chance of anyone overhearing. She pretends not to notice the way Carmilla blatantly stares at her chest, and wishes she’d gone with a damn turtleneck jumper instead of a v-neck one. “Look, Carmilla, this—“ Laura motions between them with an awkward hand gesture. “—it just, um… You know it can’t happen again, right?”
Carmilla raises an eyebrow, lifting her cup towards her mouth to take a sip, clearly waiting for Laura to elaborate.
“I mean I don’t know if you’re just flirting with me for the sake of flirting, or if you’re flirting in an attempt to sleep with me again, but if it’s the latter, it’s not going to happen.” Carmilla stares intensely at Laura over the rim of her coffee cup. Laura shifts uncomfortably under her gaze, opening her mouth to babble some more, just like she does every time she’s nervous. “Because you’re my student, and I’m your teacher—”
“Teacher’s assistant,” Carmilla interrupts, lowering her cup back to the table.
Laura ignores her. “That’s irrelevant, it just— it can’t happen again, okay?”
“Okay,” Carmilla shrugs, a grin spreading over her face. “But what makes you so sure I want to sleep with you again?”
Laura gapes at Carmilla, doing an excellent impression of a stunned goldfish, and she can feel a flush spreading across her face alarmingly quickly. Is it possible to die from extreme humiliation?
“I’m kidding, relax cutie.” Laura’s not entirely sure if Carmilla saying she’s kidding about not wanting to sleep with her again makes her feel better or not. “I know the rules, don't worry.”
Laura isn’t sure if she’s imagining the slight edge of disappointment to Carmilla’s voice. She hopes she is, because even if that does make her seem kind of desperate, at least it means Carmilla really does have zero interest in a repeat performance.
"Anyway, I’m still hungry, so I’m getting another donut,” Carmilla announces, changing the subject abruptly and standing up from the table, looking down at Laura. “You want one?”
Laura opens her mouth, shuts it when she realises she’ll probably accidentally say something stupid like why don’t you just eat me instead, and shakes her head mutely.
/
For all her talk about only flirting for the sake of flirting, and not because she wants to sleep with Laura again, Carmilla seems to amp it up a lot over the next few weeks.
Carmilla’s sitting in the front row when Laura gets to class the day after their little study session. Her left hand is holding the pen she’s absent-mindedly chewing on up to her mouth, the fingers of her right hand drumming against the table while she gazes out of the window. Laura surreptitiously leers at her like a creep while the rest of the students file into the room, nearly dropping her cup of coffee all over herself when she catches sight of Carmilla’s tongue flicking against the end of the pen.
It’s pretty hard to focus on basic tasks such as breathing, or not spilling boiling hot liquid all over herself, when all Laura can think about is how she knows exactly what Carmilla’s fingers and tongue feel like. She doesn’t think she’s ever wanted to be a pen so badly in her life.
Laura’s not sure if Carmilla’s even doing it on purpose, but then Carmilla’s gaze is sliding over to her rapidly enough that Laura is quickly convinced that she knows exactly what she's doing. The corner of Carmilla’s mouth lifts up into a smirk and she winks.
Laura’s mildly worried she’s going to be sent to an early death by suffering a fatal aneurysm in the middle of class if Carmilla doesn’t cut it out.
(Carmilla doesn't cut it out, and two hours later Laura gives serious consideration to locking herself in the fifth floor bathroom that nobody uses and finally giving in to the urge to masturbate over a student. She resists the temptation. Barely.)
/
Late October, there’s a new transfer in the class, a blonde girl that the class list informs her is named Elsie, who seems to take an immediate liking to Carmilla.
Now Carmilla is obviously an...attractive individual, what with the leather and the smirk and the cheekbones — all objectively speaking of course — so Elsie is hardly the first girl that Laura has had to witness fawning over Carmilla instead of paying attention or taking notes. However, she is the first one that Carmilla seems to actively encourage, rather than flirt with for the duration of one class, before disappearing out the door together at the end of the class, and the next day the other girl would be sulking as far away from Carmilla as possible.
(Laura overhears the term study buddy at one point, from a girl she's seen making heart eyes at Carmilla since the beginning of the semester. She doesn't want to know.)
Elsie goes on for about a week, and Laura steadfastly ignores the feeling she gets in her stomach while subtly watching her drape herself over Carmilla, flat out refusing to put a name to it. Because she can’t be jealous, she just can’t. She’s Carmilla’s teacher. Elsie isn’t. There’s nothing stopping Elsie and Carmilla from dating or kissing or doing everything that Laura and Carmilla are prohibited from doing.
It’s also a ridiculous idea that she’s jealous because it’s not like she likes Carmilla. They slept together once, and okay yes, Carmilla’s papers are always interesting and well written and Laura enjoys reading them, and the one study session revealed that, while frequently bitingly sarcastic, Carmilla’s actually funny, but even disregarding the student/teacher thing, they barely know each other anyway.
And fine, maybe she wouldn't say no to sleeping with Carmilla again, but Carmilla was pretty phenomenal, incredibly hot and could go for like, hours, so who wouldn’t want a repeat performance? But considering the repercussions of sleeping with a student, it can’t happen again, so Laura is resigned to simply being distracted by Carmilla while simultaneously wrestling with an internal morality crisis for two hours, three times a week.