The "detention" was in full swing, and Ethan found himself in a state of sensory overload. The "McGonagall" persona was terrifyingly accurate—the way she looked down at him with that combination of disappointment and absolute authority was enough to make any student's knees rattle, but for Ethan, it was pure fuel.
As she rode him with a rhythmic, punishing pace, her hands stayed braced against his chest, her fingers digging into his skin as if she were trying to transcribe a particularly difficult lesson directly into his bones.
"Mr. Williams," she breathed, her voice a sharp, Scottish rasp that cut through the haze of his pleasure. "Your lack of... restraint... is truly deplorable. I expected better from a Master of the Mystic Arts."
Ethan let out a choked laugh, his hands sliding up her thighs to grip her hips, anchoring her as he drove upward. "I'm a slow learner, Professor. I think I'm going to need... extensive tutoring."
"Clearly," she replied, her eyes narrowing as she leaned forward, her face just inches from his.
She reached down, her fingers finding the Elder Wand that was still resting near the heat of their junction. With a slow, deliberate movement, she didn't just use it for friction this time. She shifted her weight, leaning him back, and pressed the cool, knobby wood against his entrance again.
"Focus, Ethan," she whispered, dropping the formal 'Mr. Williams' for a split second as her control wavered.
With a steady hand, she began to slide the wand back in, deeper this time. The sensation was a bizarre, intoxicating mix of cold, ancient wood and the humming magical residue of the artifact. It felt like a tether of pure energy was being threaded into him. Ethan's back arched violently, a guttural groan echoing through the vaulted ceiling of the classroom.
"Ah... fuck, Tonks—Minerva—"
"Quiet," she commanded, her face returning to that mask of iron-clad discipline.
She began to move in a complex, dual rhythm—her hips grinding down on his cock in a heavy, wet circle while the hand holding the wand worked with a clinical, relentless precision. The internal friction against his prostate, combined with the crushing tightness of her pussy, sent Ethan's "Adamantine Focus" into overdrive. He could feel every micro-twitch of her anatomy, every pulse of her heart, and the way her magic was leaking out of her skin in shimmering, translucent waves.
Ethan couldn't stay passive. He sat up, his hands tangling in the severe black bun of her hair. He didn't pull it; he used it to guide her head back, exposing the pale line of her throat. He leaned in, biting softly at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, marking the "Professor" as his own.
"You're... a very... bad boy," she gasped, her Scottish lilt finally breaking as her hair flickered from black back to a shocked, electric pink for a heartbeat before she forced it back into the stern bun.
The pace intensified. The "clapping" of their bodies became a frantic, desperate sound, a rhythmic thunder that drowned out the ticking of the distant clocks. Ethan was seeing stars, the golden Tao Mandalas of his own magic beginning to flare unconsciously around his wrists, lighting the room in pulses of amber.
"I'm... going to... finish," Tonks whispered, her eyes rolling back as her internal muscles clamped down on him like a vice.
"Do it," Ethan roared, his grip on her hips tightening until his knuckles were white.
He didn't pull the wand out. He wanted the full, overwhelming weight of the moment. As Tonks let out a final, shimmering scream of "Mr. Williams!", her body went rigid, her hair exploding into a blinding, white-hot radiance as she peaked.
Ethan followed her a second later. A massive, earth-shaking surge of release ripped through him, his eyes glowing with golden light as he filled her. The magical feedback from the Elder Wand, still nestled inside him, amplified the climax until it felt like a localized supernova had gone off in the center of the room.
*****
Silence crashed back into the classroom, heavy and thick with the scent of sweat and cooling magic.
Tonks slumped forward, her head resting on Ethan's shoulder, her breathing coming in ragged, shallow gasps. Her skin bubbled one last time, the severe features of McGonagall melting away like wax. Her hair settled into its natural, satisfied lavender, and her face returned to the youthful, mischievous Tonks Ethan had come to know.
Ethan stayed buried inside her, his heart hammering against his ribs. He slowly reached behind him, sliding the Elder Wand out with a wet, lingering drag, and set the legendary artifact back on the nightstand.
"Holy... hell," Tonks panted, her voice finally back to her own bubbly tone. She lifted her head, looking at him with wide, glazed eyes. "I think... I think I just saw the beginning and the end of the universe at the same time."
"That," Ethan wheezed, "was definitely not in the Hogwarts curriculum."
Tonks let out a weak, shaky laugh, rolling off him and collapsing onto the silk mattress. She curled into his side, her skin still humming with the aftershocks. "I have to say, Williams... that wand play? Highly unorthodox. If the real McGonagall ever found out we used the Elder Wand for... that... she'd Transfigure us both into toilet brushes and never look back."
"Worth it," Ethan muttered, pulling the silk sheet over both of them.
Author's Note:
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