Unaware

(NB dom/F sub; amnesia, time dilation)

“Sarah? Sarah!”

Sarah came back to herself with a start. “Oh, sorry, did I zone out? I’m just… what?”

CJ was sitting on the other end of the couch, gazing at her with their head tipped to one side. “CJ, you’re giving me a look. Why are you giving me a look?”

“Who, me?” asked CJ, all innocence. “I’m not giving you a look! We’re just having a normal conversation, right?”

“Right…” answered Sarah uncertainly. Usually when CJ asked a question like that, it was a pretty good clue that they were not, in fact, just having a normal conversation. (Her hands, lightly stroking her sides, moved further under her shirt to begin toying with her nipples. Sarah’s hips responded, stirring slightly.) “I uh, I think we’re having a normal conversation, but something about the way you say that makes me doubt that.”

CJ smiled that long, slow smile that sent shivers down Sarah’s spine. “Don’t worry about it,” they told her laughingly. “Now, you were telling me about your day?”

The Best Thesis Defense Is a Good Thesis Offense

Happy birthday, @bunbunlittleone! If anyone could pull this off, it would be you. Thanks to @daja-the-hypnokitten for edits, encouragement, and help with sciencebabble.

* * * * * * * * * *

Iris Konijnenberg was, objectively speaking, brilliant. She had co-authored her first journal article at 16, graduated early from Yale with numerous accolades, and was the youngest neuroscience Ph. D candidate that Elman University had ever seen. She was also, objectively speaking, gorgeous—and that was the whole problem.

With her flawless skin, full lips, tiny waist, and breasts so perky they seemed to defy gravity, she could have been a model. Instead, she was a promising young neuroscientist—but half the men in this field couldn't seem to see past her tits.

"Breathe, Iris," she muttered to herself as she paced the antechamber. "Breathe, and don't go there. It'll be fine. Your research is water-tight. Even the Phallus Brigade will see that."

Intellectually speaking, she could not have been more prepared for her thesis defense. She had double- and triple-checked her work with respected researchers around the country, her PowerPoint was lucid and well organized, her accompanying handouts were pristine. But Iris and her groundbreaking findings on the differing effects of hypnosis on the occipital and parietal lobes were about to enter a room of walking, talking penises who refused to take her seriously as a scientist.