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“I didn’t promise you anythin’, Mr. Romero. I said I’d consider you for the position, not that I was offerin’ it to you.”
Jalen was pretty damn sure he heard otherwise. He remembered being extorted, seduced, sucked off, and then promised the world on the platter—or at least promised the limited-but-all-important world of acting as Professor Pierce’s undergraduate TA.
He had been told to apply, at least. The professor had said he would be considered above other applicants. But, now that he thought about it—now that he was forced to think about it, red-in-the-face at the front of the lecture hall with an entourage of needy students queuing up behind him—he hadn’t really been promised the position, had he? It had just been… implied.
“Don’t look so glum,” Professor Pierce said. His arms were crossed over his chest, glasses gleaming in that inscrutable way that obscured his eyes (Jalen had seen what he looked like without them, raw and blue: the sight plagued his every dream). “I’m still considerin’ you. I’m considerin’ you very highly. I just need to make sure you’re the right candidate for the job. There’s a process for these things, you see.”
Sweaty. Jalen was getting sweaty again, shit. He felt the judgmental eyes of his peers on the back of his neck. “Umm, right. S-sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep, sir.”
“I appreciate your enthusiasm,” Pierce said, notably not accepting his apology. Fantastic. One minor slip-up, and he had messed up the one good thing that had ever happened to him.
(“One good thing?” His common sense, tied up in bondage at the farthest corner of his mind, cried out to him that no, it was good that Pierce hadn’t made a decision yet. Pierce was a bad man that he needed to stay far away from. He had coerced him, taken advantage of him.)
But no, no—Pierce had protected him. If he hadn’t offered his sympathy, then Jalen would’ve been back in his shithole Arizona town by now, dirt-sledding and simmering under the wrathful eye of his mother and The Holy Mother alike. Not to mention that he had given Jalen exactly what he had asked for. He hadn’t been coerced in the slightest.
“May I ask what that process is, sir?”
“An interview, of course,” said the professor. “But I also need to make sure you can keep up with the workload. I’ll have you go through a trial period of sorts, gradin’ homework and papers under a deadline. I also need to make sure we operate on the same schedule. If y’ain’t a night person, this won’t be the job for you.”
Jalen’s gaze drifted from Pierce and took a jaunt around the room, locking eyes with several of his irritated classmates. He swallowed awkwardly and said, “I’m a night person too, sir. But—I was just wondering, umm… is there another TA I could talk to? You don’t have one for this section, do you?”
“I don’t. I rarely put in for one.”
“Ah.” Jalen’s heartbeat roared in his ears, drowning out the wails of what remained of that common sense. “May I ask what changed? Why are you looking into one now?”
“Modernization,” answered Pierce, not sounding particularly thrilled about it. “I’m expected to make more content available online. I ain’t above admittin’ the fact that I have difficulty finagling the finer points of Blackboard.”
“I don’t blame you, sir. It’s a terrible program. The UI isn’t intuitive, and the backend architecture is archaic.”
“Tryin’ to puzzle together how to use it is makin’ me feel archaic,” Pierce half-joked. His ever-present smile still rode high on his face, but his eyebrows ticked in annoyance. “You’re majorin’ in engineering, aren’t you, Mr. Romero?”
Jalen nodded. “Computer science,” he affirmed, then added hastily, “with a dual major in pre-law, sir. I wasn’t able to add it my first semester, but I’ll be officially enrolled come January.”
“Excellent. I’m glad to hear you’ve found your callin’. You have a knack for law, and I’d be sorry to see that talent squandered somewhere else.”
Jalen’s heart swelled with pride. If he was red before, now he was sure to be stained in it.
“That, and you’d need to be enrolled in the college if you wanted the TA position,” Pierce said. He pushed up his glasses. “University policy.”
“Of course, sir. That’s completely understandable.” He didn’t need any more urging—he had already signed up for all of his courses next semester. He had woken up at six A.M. on the dot to make sure he would nab a spot in Professor Pierce’s American Legal History class. Not that he needed to fight anyone for it—he wasn’t the most popular professor on the block.
Professor Pierce’s smile softened ever-so-slightly. “I’ll be in touch, Mr. Romero. Now, if you don’t mind?” He gestured to the swarm of obviously-eavesdropping students. “You’re makin’ the rest of your peers antsy.”
Who cared about them? If they were antsy, let them be antsy. If they were jealous, let them be jealous. They should be jealous. Jalen had seen a side of the professor that nobody else had, and he wanted to flaunt it. He wanted Pierce to grab him by his hair and pull him into a kiss—he wanted to take his dick into his mouth right there in front of the class and revel in their envy. He didn’t care. All he wanted was Pierce.
And Pierce knew that, didn’t he? How could he not? Jalen had groveled in his presence every night since that shared juncture in the office. He had gone above and beyond to exceed his every expectation, all in the hopes that he would earn a single morsel of that honey-sweet praise. He craved it. He was starving without it.
But he wouldn’t beg. One wrong move and Pierce would toss him aside for someone more competent. Not only that, but he had the power to ruin his entire academic career. Who was the school going to believe: the tenured professor with a sparkling clean record, or a repressed, horny gay kid from Nowhere, USA?
As Jalen was mulling over his options, his view of Professor Pierce was suddenly blocked. One of the students—a tall, muscular man with a buzzcut and a sleeve of roses tattooed on his arm—had braved the crowd and stepped between them.
“I hate to interrupt, Professor, but there’s something urgent I need to discuss with you before class,” the man said.
“Ah, yes, we were just finishing up. What can I do for you, Mr. Thorne?”
The tattooed man glanced at Jalen out of the corner of his eye. His lips twitched, and Jalen realized, with a sickening groan in his gut, that he was smirking.
“Just wanted to check in with you on the matter we discussed in your office the other day, sir,” the man said with such carefree familiarity, Jalen wanted to puke. He couldn’t stand it, knowing other people had such easy access to the professor. Despite his best efforts, all he had was a night. He thought about cheating again—maybe he could perform so poorly on a test that Professor Pierce was bound to notice. But he couldn’t do that: he had been offered a second chance, and he wasn’t about to waste it.
Gulping down his envy, Jalen ducked his head, stalked back to his seat, and focused on no one but his professor for the rest of the evening.
It wasn’t long before Jalen received an official email from the office of Professor Pierce regarding the aforementioned “trial TA period”, along with an attached link to a Google Drive containing about sixty different students’ most recent homework assignments. He nearly fell out of his chair at the sheer volume of shit he suddenly had on his plate—not to mention that the message said he needed everything printed out and graded by Monday.
Jalen’s school-assigned roommate—a lanky, red-haired boy with freckles named Linus Woodstock—leaned over Jalen’s desk and took a privacy-violating gander at his screen. “Your professor can’t be serious about this,” he said in his trademark nasally whine. “I mean, this is, like, exploitation! You don’t work for him yet! And dude, printing isn’t cheap! ‘Trial period’—what the heck. I’d go to the dean.”
Jalen grabbed his laptop and hid the screen against his chest. “It’s not that big a deal,” he said defensively.
“Bro, it totally is. Dude sounds like a jackass.”
“Don’t talk about him like that,” Jalen mumbled, but he didn’t pack much power in his words. He felt too embarrassed—he hadn’t exactly gone around bragging about boning his professor. Linus wouldn’t get it. He hadn’t seen how Pierce had looked at him: like he was the only person in the world that mattered.
“I don’t understand why you’d want to work for a guy like that,” Linus went on. “Guess you really want that letter of recommendation, huh.”
“I have to prove I deserve it. Besides, it’s not that big a deal—I just finished the CSE111 switch-case assignment. It’s not like I don’t have time.”
At the mention of the homework, Linus groaned and swung his head back. “Ugh, don’t even mention that, dude! I’m not even halfway through! Hey, let me take a look at your code, would you, Jay? I’ll pay your XIV sub this month.”
“That’s cheating.”
“Oh, right. Like you’ve never cheated.”
“Nope,” Jalen lied. “I’m a pillar of moral virtue.”
Linus scoffed and said, “Yeah, yeah. You’ll make a great lawyer with that kind of attitude, I’m sure.”
“Thanks. I think so, too.”
While it seemed like a ludicrous amount of work at first, with Pierce’s given answer key, grading didn’t take much time at all, and Jalen was able to finish the assignment far before Pierce’s given deadline. His heart was in a state of flutter from that moment onward: Pierce had asked him to turn in the papers to his office on Monday evening. It would be the first time they would be alone together since November—and with finals coming up, it could, potentially, be one of the last times he would get the opportunity to speak to him privately that year.
Jalen gathered the stack of assignments in his arms and took off into the shiny Las Ganas night. The campus was quiet so late into the evening: only a handful of professors offered nighttime classes, and most of the students were too busy partying in the downtown district to contemplate signing up for them. The chilly sea breeze stung his nostrils, and he pulled the sleeves on his oversized hoodie down to cover his palms.
When Jalen arrived outside Professor Pierce’s office, he noticed that, milling outside the closed door, was another man. He too had a stack of papers under his arm, holding them with far more ease than Jalen could. He was tall and broad, with herculean muscles straining against the buttons of a too-small dress-shirt.
Jalen couldn’t recall where he had seen the man before, up until his sleeve rolled up as he stretched, revealing a splattering of inked roses on his skin. He shared a class with him, he realized: it was the same man who had cut off his conversation with Professor Pierce earlier that week.
As if sensing the ominous aura emanating off of Jalen in droves, the man turned to him. He offered a smile. “Oh, hey. We’re in the same class, aren’t we? The 9-11 Tuesday-Thursday section?”
“What are you doing here?” was Jalen’s deadpan response.
The man eyed the bundle of papers Jalen was clutching to his chest. “For the same reason as you, I’d have to guess. Professor Pierce asked me to grade some papers for him. You’re applying for TA too, huh?”
Jalen, suddenly feeling faint, dropped his entire armful of papers, sending them spiriting towards the floor in a flurry of white.
“Shit,” he cursed, then collapsed to his knees to fumble together the papers as best he could. Fuck, they had been in alphabetical order, too—and now they were going to be all crumpled and crappy looking, and—shit, why was someone else here? Why was someone applying for his position? How good of a student was this guy? More importantly than that—how close was he with Pierce? Were they involved? Surely not. Pierce was a professor, after all, and he wouldn’t fraternize with his students like that—not unless the student was special… not unless the student meant something to him, like Jalen did—
“Yo, man, is everything okay?” The man didn’t bend down to help, but he still had the time to jeer at him, it seemed. “You look… uh, really red.”
“Fine,” Jalen said through his teeth. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just—slipped.”
“Need some help?”
“No, I’m fine. Everything is fine.” Everything was not fine.
When Jalen had scooped the papers back up, he found the man shooting him that same half-pulled cocky sneer he had lobbed his way earlier that week. Jalen considered punching him, before begrudgingly coming to the conclusion that it would take about five clones of himself to come anywhere close to posing a challenge for the guy. He was at least twice his size: he could grab Jalen’s head in one hand and crush it like he was juicing a lemon.
“I’m applying to be a TA, yes,” Jalen said, trying his best to scrounge up some dignity. “Professor Pierce wanted me to apply for the position.”
“That’s awesome. I applied the old-fashioned way—I asked him if he needed any help, and he told me to go through the process. I wonder how many TAs he’s looking for.”
“Just the one, I’m pretty sure.”
“For real? Rough. I’m sure that can’t be the case, though. He has so many sections.” The man shifted his papers under one arm and held out a hand. “Name’s Stephen, by the way. Stephen Thorne.”
“Jalen Romero. I, uh, can’t shake your hand. Arms are full.”
“Oh, right.” Stephen’s smirk slanted, and he pulled his hand back. “Well, it’s nice to get the chance to talk to you. You always sit by yourself—I’ve always kind of wondered what your deal was.”
“I don’t want to be distracted during the lecture.”
“Gotcha, gotcha. Don’t want to take your eyes off the main event, right?”
Jalen’s heart pounded in his ears. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
Stephen laughed, loud and roiling. He leaned forward into Jalen’s face, and Jalen had to take a step back to maintain an inkling of comfort. His breath smelled of cigarette smoke. “Nothing, nothing. I’m calling you cute, that’s all.”
“Cute,” Jalen echoed.
“Sure.” Stephen brought a hand up to his face and leaned on his knuckles, sighing like a caged princess gazing wistfully out the window of her tower. “You look just like this during lecture, all doe-eyed and dreamy. Someone’s hot for teacher, huh?”
Jalen short-circuited. He tried to put together a rebuttal, but all he managed to force out was a spitty sputter. Who—who was this guy? What gave him the right to waltz in here and try to take the position he was offered, and then have the gall to make fun of him for it? He didn’t know anything about Jalen or Pierce. He was just some… some guy—a handsome guy, sure, but nothing compared to Pierce, so proud and beautiful and wise. Pierce was a king. This dude was a—a—something less than a king… not a prince, not a baron, those were still too regal, uh—
Stephen laughed again. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. And hey, I don’t judge. I mean, the professor’s eye candy. I get it.” He took another step forward and playfully nudged Jalen on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry too much about being obvious about it. I don’t think a lot of people are staring at you. I just have an eye for cute guys—can’t help but pay attention to them.”
“Are you—are you flirting with me?”
“Well, yeah. I thought that much was obvious.”
“I am not interested.”
(His sense screamed at him: what was he doing? Having a guy flirt with him so openly—high school him would have fainted on the spot. He had never been flirted with before. Nobody had ever been remotely interested in him.)
Pierce had been interested in him. He couldn’t look for a relationship—not until he confirmed what he meant to Pierce.
(What the hell? Pierce had coerced him. Jalen didn’t mean anything to him. Who knew how many other vulnerable students he had preyed on? He was just a tally mark on his pursuit of conquest.)
But he had to know for certain. He was in love with him—he owed it to his heart.
“I’m taken,” Jalen eventually decided, lips pulling into a snarl.
Stephen patted the air in front of him. “All right, that’s cool. Just wanted to—”
“Gettin’ along well, are we?”
That caramel-dipped twang, the one that sung every one of Jalen’s fancies, wrenched him from his anger. He turned on his heel: standing partway down the hallway and adjusting his glasses was Professor Pierce. His eyes darted between the two of them, observing and calculating.
“Oh, Professor!” Jalen stood up a little straighter. “Sorry, sir, we were just—”
“Jalen and I here were introducing ourselves to each other,” Stephen said, fully cutting Jalen off. Jalen, mouth mid-motion, gawped at him. Oh, he wanted to strangle this guy.
Pierce hummed. “Mm. Well, thanks so much for comin’. I appreciate the punctuality.” He strode past the two of them, unlocking the door to his office and opening it up. “Come in.”
Stephen, tall and dominant, took the lead. Jalen followed in his shadow, inwardly cursing every biblical name he could think of.
The office was the same as the last time he had seen it—it had been burned into his memory. The scent of lavender hung loosely in the air. There was only the one guest chair to sit in—Stephen had the sense to remain standing.
“Any problems with the assignment?” Professor Pierce asked as he circled around his desk and took a seat behind it. He leaned forward, elbows propping up his clasped hands.
“Nope. It was a straightforward task,” Stephen said. He placed his pile of papers on the desk. Jalen hastily followed suit.
“Yes, sir—no problems here.” He winced at how sloppy his papers looked compared to Stephen’s. “I apologize for the disarray. I… erm, dropped them.”
“Not to worry. It happens.” Professor Pierce smiled, charming and gentle, and—oh, Jalen’s head was spinning.
“L-l-let me know if you’d like any changes in the future, sir. I, uhm, wasn’t entirely sure what format you wanted, so I tried to be as thorough as possible. I’ll change whatever you need me to, though.”
“I’m sure you did a remarkable job. There’s no need to worry so much, Mr. Romero. You’re lookin’ awfully—feverish.”
“That’s what I said,” Stephen jibbed, and Jalen strongly contemplated elbowing him in the gut.
Jalen cleared his throat. “I’m fine, sir. Just let me know what you’d like.”
“I certainly will,” said Pierce. “Thanks so much, Mr. Romero. I’ll be in touch.”
Jalen nodded. He looked at Pierce, expectantly, and shifted from one foot to the other. He felt hot under the collar—combined with the familiar room and Pierce’s steely gaze, he could feel his dick twitching in curiosity.
Pierce raised a brow. “Is there somethin’ else you needed?” he asked.
“Uhm? Umm. Erm. Not—not if you didn’t need something, sir.”
“I actually needed to discuss somethin’ with Mr. Thorne, while he’s here.”
Jalen’s heart plummeted into his stomach. He looked over to Stephen, only to see him wearing the most self-satisfied simper Jalen had ever seen.
“Oh. Umm. Okay.” Jalen bowed his head, letting his black bangs fall into his eyes. “I guess I’ll… leave, then.”
“Like I said, Mr. Romero—I’ll be in touch.” Pierce smiled at him. He never once stopped smiling. “Have a wonderful evenin’.”
“See you later,” Stephen added as a final jab.
He couldn’t handle any more shame. Before anyone could get in another word, Jalen scampered out of the room and slammed the door behind him.
Why were they so close?
There was no way the professor and Stephen were seeing each other, no way. The professor wouldn’t be that sloppy. He wouldn’t go for someone like that, either—all brawny and inked and handsome and—fuck, fuck, fuck!
“Hey, Jay, you okay? You’ve been screaming into that pillow for… uh, three hours now.”
In response, Jalen whipped the pillow at Linus’s head, turned onto his stomach, and screamed into the mattress instead.
(Hadn’t he known this would happen? Pierce didn’t owe anything to him. He had threatened him, sucked his dick, and then threatened him again to keep quiet about it. That wasn’t love. It was an exchange of power, just as he had told him. Jalen was just something for him to control.)
No, no, no. He had heard him moan, heard him laugh. That was something that couldn’t be faked. It may not have been love, but it was something special—something that stupid, handsome Stephen knew nothing about.
He was going to beat him. He was going to beat him into the ground.
Jalen made sure to complete all of Pierce’s demo grading assignments as soon as they were given. He continued sitting in the front row of the lecture hall and paid even more voracious attention to Pierce’s classes. He studied every day for his final, which he was going to ace. Never mind his other classes—he’d ace those too, no sweat. Definitely. Or, well, he’d study for them when he found the time (thank goodness his law final was scheduled for a Monday).
The final Thursday before finals week, Professor Pierce locked eyes with Jalen before class and beckoned him over to his podium. Jalen skipped to his side, tail wagging.
“I hate to ask this before what I know is a stressful week for you, Mr. Romero, but I wanted to know if you had time for an official interview.” He smiled, all lip and fang. “I need to make a decision about the TA position by the end of the semester, which is technically next Friday. Would you be available?”
“Oh, of course!” He would just have to rearrange his studying schedule—no problem, no problem. “I could do any time tonight, tomorrow… any time for you, sir.”
“Tomorrow is better. Would nine P.M. work?”
Jalen had no idea how Pierce managed to keep his job while working such late hours. He wondered if it was some sort of condition. Pierce was so pale—did he ever see the sun?
“Nine P.M. sounds great,” Jalen said with a flurry of nods. “Should I bring anything with me?”
“Nothin’ but your best behavior.”
“Will it—umm.” Jalen tripped on his tongue. “—Will it just be the two of us, sir?”
Pierce’s eyes narrowed: there was no way he hadn’t noticed Jalen’s spreading blush. “Indeed,” he said lightly. “I apologize for not havin’ the time to speak with you on a more individual basis. I’ve been terribly busy. You’re a good student, though—I’m certain you don’t need my help with anythin’.”
“What about Stephen, sir?”
“Mr. Thorne? What about him?”
“I just noticed that you’ve been talking to him a lot, one-on-one.” Jalen squirmed, hands balling in his too-long sleeves. “Sir.”
This was the first chance he had in weeks to talk to Pierce without someone leaning over his shoulder, Stephen or no. He needed to know. He could be rejected, and that would be fine. He just needed to know.
Pierce studied him for a poignant moment. His blue eyes searched his face, from his brow to his lips.
“He needs the extra help,” he said, purposefully vague. Jalen was starting to recognize the cadences of his voice—his frustration, his praise, his deviance.
Jalen accepted the challenge. “I thought that a TA needed to pass the class with an A in order to qualify for the position.”
“Oh, they do. I’m just helpin’ him get the grade he wants.”
“There must be better choices than someone who’s struggling so much, sir.” Jalen puffed out his chest. “I—I’m a candidate, of course, but… why aren’t you considering a student who shows more… aptitude with the class?”
“You’d be surprised how rare those students are,” said Pierce.
Jalen wasn’t surprised. Judging from the upset whispers that coiled around the room before every lecture, the class average wasn’t exactly stellar.
“But I’m more than willin’ to lend a helpin’ hand to those students who need it.” Pierce pushed up his glinting glasses. “I’m a very patient man, provided I know they’re… let’s say, serious about wantin’ to improve.”
(That was how everyone was passing the class, wasn’t it? They would see him for help, and he would offer them a trade: a positive grade for sex. A flagrant, disgusting abuse of power.)
Jalen shook the clinging thought from his mind. “That’s kind of you, Professor.”
“It’s my job,” Pierce said with a smile.
(What did he need them for? Did he get off on seeing young boys drool over him, or did he get off on having complete control over someone’s success? Would he take advantage of Jalen again? Would he do something worse, now that he had his claws in him?)
“Nine P.M. tomorrow?” Jalen asked.
“Nine P.M. tomorrow. No later and no sooner, please.”
“Of course.” Jalen smiled at him—and when Pierce smiled back, he felt like he was about to melt. “I’ll—I’ll see you then, sir.”
He didn’t know where that pesky inner voice of his was coming from. He had his doubts about Pierce’s intentions, sure, but they had been buried, buzzing, at the back of his brain ever since that shared night. As the reality of once again being in Pierce’s office alone with him drew nearer, his fight or flight stuttered into overdrive. It was stupid, he knew—Pierce would never hurt him. He cared about him.
He wondered if it would be better to talk to somebody about it. Linus wouldn’t get it, and he could only imagine the response if he posted it online: people would accuse him of sleeping his way to the top. Who else was there—his family? What a joke. Jalen didn’t have anyone else who cared about him.
(Nobody would miss him. Maybe Pierce could sense that.)
When Friday evening approached, Jalen made sure to slap on his best outfit—which was, in standard hungry college student fashion, a pair of wrinkled khaki slacks and a dress-shirt missing its bottom-most button. He wished Linus farewell (taking care not to mention exactly where it was he was going) and traced the familiar trek to the law building.
As always, the university was abandoned: and when he rounded the corner to the hallway containing Professor Pierce’s office, he found it as desolate as the rest of the building. Jalen smoothed out his shirt, took a deep breath, and knocked on the door before that aforementioned pesky voice could give him a good reason not to.
He waited. One second, ten. No response.
It was a heavy door, Jalen figured. The one other time he had done this, he was pretty sure it had been propped open a couple inches. He knocked again—no response.
He slipped his phone out of his pocket: he had knocked at precisely nine P.M. It was now nine-o’-one. He was getting queasy.
Maybe Pierce was late—that was completely understandable. Traffic and all that. Or maybe… maybe he had already made his choice about the TA, and it wasn’t him. Or worse, maybe he had forgotten about the meeting entirely, and Jalen was just that unimportant to him.
Nine-o’-two. Nine-o’-three. The hallway was dead quiet. He was going to be sick.
Jalen pursed his lips. Maybe—maybe he couldn’t hear the knocking? It was possible, the door being as heavy as it was. Curiously, he tried the handle, only to feel it give way at his touch. It was unlocked.
Jalen didn’t give himself time to think. If the door was open, Pierce was inside, and he was already late. He wasn’t about to make a fool of himself. Thus, he swung the door open, strode inside, and shut it behind him.
“Sorry for being late, Profess—oh. Oh my god.”
The first thing that struck Jalen was the smell. He had smelt it earlier in the week, buried in his memories beneath the blush of lavender: it was the raw, potent stench of sex, stretching languidly over every surface of the room. It made his stomach churn, and he slapped a hand over his mouth and nose to combat the urge to puke.
Sight and sound followed suit. Jalen’s gaze darted straight for the center of the room. The papers and pens normally so neatly arranged were shoved haphazardly to either side of the desk, leaving a wide enough berth for Professor Pierce himself. He was bent over the desk, chest pressed flush to the surface, forearms propping him up and nails scrabbling at the wooden desk-top. His slacks were pulled down just below his knees, though the positioning of the desk allotted him some modesty. What wasn’t modest, though, was the man behind him—wide and muscular, his skin patterned with crimson roses snaring all the way from his arms up to his bare chest—with hands on either side of Pierce’s hips, humping into him like a stud in heat.
Stephen was so lost in lust, he barely registered the door opening. His cloudy eyes met Jalen’s, then promptly passed him over. Pierce, on the other hand, whipped his head up, glasses falling askew. His cheeks flushed pink, and his skin was glossy with sweat—yet despite the balls slapping against his ass, his expression was as carefully guarded as it always was.
“Mr. Romero,” he said evenly, voice not shedding an ounce of his immaculate dignity. “You’re early.”
Jalen was speechless. A chill rooted in his veins, and jealous bile started to boil at the back of his throat. He couldn’t tear his eyes away: he drank in every detail of the scene, from the exposed skin of Pierce’s thigh, to the wrinkled crumple of his dress shirt, to the way his lips twitched ever so slightly when Stephen pulled all the way out and thrust back in to his hilt—
“I told you to arrive no earlier and no later,” said Pierce. “You couldn’t even do that, hmm? That ain’t a sign of a responsible assistant, Mr. Romero.”
“I—that—?” Jalen covered his face with his hands, as if that would somehow hide his shame—but he couldn’t break eye contact with Pierce, and he found himself staring at him from between his fingers. “It’s—I’m sorry, sir, I’ll leave, I didn’t—”
“I want to know why you deliberately disobeyed my order. What made you think it was a good idea to be earlier than what I told you?”
Jalen’s mind reeled. He tried to connect the dots in his mind, but the squeaking of the desk and the slapping of flesh stickied his thoughts. He gagged before managing to speak, tasting bitter acid on his tongue.
“It’s—nine P.M., sir, and the door was open, so I—”
“Our appointment was for ten P.M., not nine.”
“What?” That wasn’t right. It had definitely been nine. He—he hadn’t written it down, granted, but he was absolutely certain. He remembered the way Pierce said it, deep and drawling. It was the same time as class—that’s how he had remembered it.
Before Pierce could respond, Stephen craned forward over him, splaying his hands on either side of the professor’s head as he fucked into him with further ferocity. Pierce’s nails scraped against the table, and his eyes snapped shut.
“I—uhn.” His words hitched into a breathy whine. He swallowed, subtly, before he opened his eyes and composed himself. “I explicitly told you ten P.M.. So it wasn’t a matter of being early—it was a matter of not listenin’ to me, was it? That doesn’t bode well for you, either.”
“That’s not—Professor, sir, I’m so sorry, but you—you definitely said—”
“You know that I said ten.”
Pierce’s voice constricted around Jalen’s heart, squeezing and squeezing until it shattered inside him. Tears bubbled hot in the corner of his eyes, and his vision blurred—the only thing he could make out was blue. Always, always blue.
“You’re right,” he sobbed, because he was. How could he have been so stupid? He had been so worked up about making a good impression that he had completely forgotten the actual time of the appointment. He was an idiot. “I’m so, so sorry, Professor, I—I messed up, I—I can’t believe I forgot—”
“And then you went and blamed your incompetence on me?” Pierce accused, eyes burning. “If you make a mistake, I expect you to own up to it.”
“You’re right, Professor—of course you’re right.” He was always right. He’d always be right. “I’m so sorry, I’ll—I’ll leave, I’m sorry for interrupting, I’ll—”
“Now hold on. You’re here, ain’tcha? Might as well take care of business. I’d hate to waste even more of my time on you.”
“I—huh?”
“Unless you’re rescindin’ your application?” Pierce asked. Stephen, from behind him, let a hand snake under Pierce’s shirt to grope his pecs. Pierce didn’t seem to notice.
The tears were still streaking down Jalen’s cheeks, but his distress had devolved into full-blown shock. He physically couldn’t process the situation. It was like his brain had blue-screened.
Pierce craned his head back to whisper something into Stephen’s ear. Stephen nodded his head between pants, then wrapped both his arms around Pierce’s torso. He stepped back and plopped himself down in the professor’s chair, taking Pierce with him. They were still joined, and Jalen could finally see their full coupling: Pierce, sitting backwards on Stephen’s lap, canted his hips and speared himself on Stephen’s bare cock. The motion was mechanical, as if he were scratching an itch rather than having his guts stirred up. His own uncut dick strained against his stomach, pearling with pre.
“Well?” the professor asked as he fucked himself. The office chair creaked. “Are you still interested in the position?”
Jalen stared, wide-eyed and dumbfounded, at the voyeuristic portrait in front of him. How could Pierce be so composed? He didn’t look the least bit perturbed. With that straight-laced smile, those patient eyes… part of Jalen wondered if this had been his plan all along.
His eyes flitted for the briefest moment towards Stephen. He was showering Pierce in his sweat. His mouth was open, tongue lolling out like a panting dog. He didn’t look like he was entirely present—surely he would’ve had some reaction to Jalen by now. Was he drugged? Or was he just that drunk on lust, drunk on Pierce?
“Don’t look at him,” Pierce ordered, snapping his fingers. “Look at me.”
Jalen’s attention immediately went back to him. “S-sorry, sir, I—I, erm, I just….” Where the hell was he supposed to begin? He was torn between wanting to flee into the night and wanting to get closer. He wanted to taste Pierce’s shuddering breath, fondle his dripping cock. The room clouded with sweat and sex, fogging his thoughts.
“I’ll be takin’ your silence as a no.”
“A-ah, no, that’s not—!” Jalen frantically shook his head. “I—I still… I want it, sir, yes.”
“Oh?” Pierce quirked both eyebrows. Stephen’s hands roamed up his torso and under his shirt, exposing more of his flat belly. “Even after this?”
“I-it was my fault, not yours. I take full responsibility.”
“I’m glad you’ve come to your senses on that front. But even still—you don’t have a single issue with your current predicament, Mr. Romero?”
Jalen swallowed. “Of course I do,” he said. “But… I’m not sure what you want me to say about it, sir.”
“Whatever it is you’re thinkin’,” Pierce proposed.
“I’m—I don’t think that’s—”
“Speak your mind.”
“I honestly can’t fucking believe you.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, pulled from his thoughts by Pierce’s command. He squeaked and slapped both hands over his mouth. “Sir! Sorry, Professor, I didn’t mean—”
Pierce interrupted him with a chuckle. It was breathy, soft—and when Stephen thrust up at a particular angle, it splintered into a moan. His fingers clenched and unclenched, as if they were seeking something to latch onto. Jalen wondered what it would be like to have his hair pulled.
“I gave you permission—no need to apologize,” the professor said through his teeth. “Go on. I insist.”
It had to be a trap. Jalen did not trust this. He was giving him permission, sure, but one wrong move and—what? He’d lose the TA opportunity? It was worse than that: what story would Professor Pierce tell the dean about a nosy, voyeuristic creep like him?
But no—Pierce wouldn’t do that. He may not have trusted the situation, but he trusted Pierce. That, he could count on.
“I don’t understand,” Jalen whispered. “Why don’t you… care? That I’m here?”
“It upsets you more than it upsets me,” Pierce said.
“But—why? Why him?” His jealousy sharpened his tongue.
Pierce thought for a moment. He bowed his head back to look at Stephen in profile before planting a kiss on his cheek. The motion, so tender, made Jalen see red—he gritted his teeth so hard, he heard bone split.
His gaze returned to Jalen, and his lips curled. “You two were gettin’ along, last time I checked,” he said.
“I hate him. He—he’s a total jerk. And you said it yourself—he’s stupid! I don’t understand why you’d be interested in someone like him, Professor.”
“He liked you,” quipped Pierce.
“I—I mean… uh.” Jalen sputtered and tripped over his words. How did Pierce know about that? “I don’t—that’s not—”
“If I offered you the position, Mr. Romero, would you take it?”
Jalen’s thoughts froze at the sudden change in topic. “I—umm, that’s—”
“If you take it, Mr. Romero, you must understand that it’s going to be more than what it says on paper. You have to be there for me whenever I need you. You need to be willin’ to go that extra mile to help me, please me. I need your devotion. Do you understand?”
“I do, sir,” Jalen said, nodding his head. “I want to. I’d do anything for you, sir.”
Pierce’s hips stuttered, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. One of his hands went to his dick and stroked himself. “I can’t have’ya gettin’ distracted, Jalen,” he said, his twang thickening. His poise was slipping as he strung closer to release. “Not by oth’ah men. I need’ta know that’cha’re sere’ous. That’cha’ll b’loyal n’matta’h whad’I ask’a’ya.”
Jalen was panting now, too. He was so hot. Wet—he was soaked in sweat. “I will be, P-Professor. I’ve never been more serious about anything before in my life.”
“Swear it.”
“I swear. I promise you, Professor Pierce: I’ll do anything for you. Whether it’s related to academia or otherwise, I—I’ll be there for you. You’re all I care about.”
Pierce groaned. He threw his head back, burying himself in the crook of Stephen’s neck.
“You’re so beautiful,” Jalen marveled. He relished the way Pierce’s face pinched and the way his milky legs were starting to quiver. He looked good. He’d look better against Jalen: warm against cold, white against gold.
“You’re the only person who matters to me,” he went on. Pierce was squirming, sputtering—Jalen’s praise was pushing him towards the edge, and Jalen wanted to savor every second. “I’d follow you into the darkness, Professor. I’d—I’d have you teach me how. You’ve already taught me so much. You’ve taught me how to want, and what I want is you.”
He imagined himself in Stephen’s position: he would take Pierce into his arms and fuck him with wild abandon. He’d strip his clothes and memorize what his naked body looked like. He didn’t care how old he was, how experienced he was—he’d make his body remember the shape of Jalen’s cock.
Pierce planted a wide, open-mouthed kiss to Stephen’s neck. Not a kiss, Jalen realized after a moment, but a bite—and a hard one, by the look of it. Stephen, whose presence Jalen had long since blurred in his mind’s eye, moaned vulgarly, and he sheathed himself fully into Pierce as he notched their hips together. He came—selfishly. It pissed Jalen off. He would make sure Pierce was taken care of, first: he’d pamper him, worship him. He’d suck him, finger him, fuck him until Pierce’s balls were empty. He deserved the world and more.
He didn’t say any of that, though. Instead, he revealed his delicate heart.
“I want to kiss you,” Jalen whispered, and Pierce—with a full, trembling shudder—climaxed. Beautifully. The muscles in his bare legs tautened, and his back arched like the bend of a bow. Seed spurted up onto his ruined suit and onto his desk, staining him in sin. He parted from Stephen to cry, and Jalen caught the sight of dewy crimson oozing from two perfect puncture wounds on Stephen’s neck. Blood ran down Stephen’s throat and down his chest in ropey rivulets.
Professor Pierce was out of it for a solid minute, lashes fluttering and dick still twitching. When he returned to himself with a blink and a breath, his attention immediately focused on Stephen. He murmured something to him—without the sound of sex muddling the room, Jalen could make out a, “Stay silent, please.” He dipped his head and licked a stripe from chest to wound, lapping all the blood along with it. His mouth closed around the bite mark, and it stayed there for a handful of more moments.
When Pierce was ready, he pulled away a single inch and tongued along the edges of the wound. Like ink disappearing into water, the rawness of the mark faded into Stephen’s rose-coiled skin. Jalen was left wondering if he had hallucinated the whole thing. He would’ve sworn he had hallucinated the whole thing, if not for his whining cock pushing against his zipper.
Pierce’s eyes turned towards Jalen. They ambled from his face and down to his obvious erection, hesitating over it. “That’s all the questions I have to ask you,” he said, his voice revealing zero indication that he had just come—that he still had a dick inside him. “Do you have any for me, Mr. Romero?”
The atmosphere had snapped, and in its fracture had grown a new type of tension. No longer was Jalen in the position to fantasize about the object of his affections; he was once again a college student interviewing for a position as a teaching assistant. He felt the need to adjust himself and hide his bulge.
“Umm—n-no, sir.” What the hell was up with that bite, maybe, but this was not the time to ask. “I think I’ve made my position on this clear.”
“You have indeed.” Professor Pierce smiled at him. The corners of his mouth were dyed red. “I’ll let you know my decision by the end of next week. Sometime after your final.”
Oh shit, his final. He had been so caught up there, he had completely forgotten about that, and—oh god, it was two days away! How was he supposed to concentrate on it now? The only thing he was going to be able to think about for the next day, week, and century was how Professor Pierce looked when he came.
Professor Pierce braced himself on the ground and desk and pushed himself to his feet. Stephen’s limp dick slipped out of his ass, and with it trickled viscous strings of come. It dribbled onto the carpet in thick globules, and Jalen finally realized the reason why the office always smelled vaguely of lavender soap.
“Have a wonderful night, Mr. Romero,” Pierce said. “See you Monday.”
He didn’t want to leave. He still hadn’t kissed him. He wanted to stay with him into the night, and he wanted to wake up by his side the next morning. (Or evening? He didn’t care. If it meant pleasing Professor Pierce, he never had to see the sun again.)
Jalen hissed through his teeth, “Yes, Professor.”
He left Pierce and Stephen together. He was in a daze, and when he got back to his dorm, he made a beeline for the shower and jacked off into the drain.
Jalen’s mind was in shambles. Try as he might to study for his exams, his thoughts would always wander off to Professor Pierce. He thought of his thighs and how they would feel wrapped around him. He thought of that saccharine voice and how it sounded when it was pushed to its brink. He couldn’t stop getting distracted, and he could only pray that he had retained enough information from the rest of the semester to get by. He felt confident enough in his engineering courses, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he realized that his morning Intro to Java final was on content he had mastered in the seventh grade.
Things got more complicated the evening of his pre-law final. Before the classroom unlocked and far before the professor had arrived, Jalen’s wandering gaze caught the sight of Stephen Thorne slumped against the wall of the hallway, reading his textbook. Jalen knew what he looked like naked, now. He retched at the thought.
Whether it was out of jealousy or morbid curiosity, he wasn’t sure—but before he had time to think through the ramifications of his actions, Jalen marched up to Stephen and blatantly cleared his throat. Stephen jumped at the noise, and when he recognized Jalen’s face, his lips kinked into his patented side-smirk.
“What’s up?” Stephen asked. “Ready for the final?”
Jalen crossed his arms over his chest. He only came up to Stephen’s chin… man, if they were about to fight, Jalen should say good-bye to his teeth. And face. And life, probably.
“Is that all you have to say to me?” he asked, frowning.
Stephen’s eyebrows met at their middle. “Uh. How… are you?”
“That’s it? You’re just going to ignore what happened?”
“Uh, maybe? Depends on what we’re talking about?”
Was this guy for real? He was more dense than Jalen anticipated. He rolled his eyes and said, “I’m talking about the… you know. You know. The office. The capital-I Incident.”
Stephen’s vacant, pretty face didn’t show any signs of recognition. “Uhm. Are you talking about what I said to you? Listen, it’s fine if you’re not interested. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Let’s just drop it, okay?”
“What—no, I’m not talking about that, obviously! I’m talking about you and Professor Pierce!”
Jalen’s voice broke into a shrill screech towards the end of his sentence, earning him beguiled glances from the other students mulling around the hallway. He coughed and fiddled with his backpack straps, trying to act as casual as possible. “When I walked in on you,” he added in a strangled whisper.
Stephen’s furrowed brow only deepened. “Okay, what? I have no idea what you’re talking about, dude. This was recently?”
What the hell? Stephen was looking at him like he had started growing tentacles. Surely he couldn’t be serious—how could he not remember that? Granted, he had looked pretty out of it at the time… even during those moments when they had made eye contact, Stephen didn’t look like he had entirely been there. Was that because of drugs? Jalen was so straight-laced (in every situation that didn’t relate to Professor Pierce)—he had no idea what kind of drug that sounded like. But surely he had to remember something.
“Where were you last Friday?” Jalen pressed.
“Where was I? God.” Stephen rubbed the back of his neck. “I went to a frat party at the Beta Tau Mu house. Got entirely wasted—woke up at my friend’s place half-naked and dizzy as all hell. Great time—but I had a real bad time at my final this morning, if you catch my drift.”
Frat party? No way. Fraternity housing was on the opposite side of the university from Pierce’s office. He could’ve gone there afterwards, maybe, but why wouldn’t he remember? It didn’t make any sense.
“Did you take anything?”
“Did I what? What’s up with all the questions, dude?”
“I need to know,” Jalen asserted.
“Like hell you do.” Stephen slammed his textbook shut and took a step back, putting some space between them. “I don’t know what your problem is. I don’t know if you’re trying to catch me in something so I don’t get the TA position or what—but it isn’t any of your business. Fuck off.” He gave him one final glare before turning away and sauntering off towards the other end of the hallway.
Jalen watched him go, and he felt a headache starting to pinch at his temples. It was so bizarre. Pierce—Pierce wouldn’t drug somebody, would he? Even if he did, Stephen was very much conscious. Why couldn’t he remember anything? It was like his memory of the night had been entirely erased.
Jalen didn’t get the chance to dwell on that thought for very long, though: in the next moment, Professor Pierce arrived and unlocked the door. When he looked at Jalen, he smiled kindly—and Jalen knew that everything would be all right.
It was all right. Jalen passed his test with flying colors. By the end of that same week, all of his finals were graded, and he was walking out of his first semester of college with a 4.33 GPA.
The matter of his TA status was still up-in-the-air, though. He had it added to his schedule, but he hadn’t heard from Pierce since the Monday of the exam. He was starting to get nervous—the dorms were about to kick him out for winter break, and he wanted to talk with the professor before that. He had never dreaded vacation so much in his life: he did not want to go back to Gila Bend, not with Las Ganas’s stars and studs seducing him out of sincerity.
Linus moved out that following Friday. Most of the floor had moved out, actually: he had never heard the dorm so quiet. (Most people had family who loved them.) He had the entire place to himself.
That was why, when he heard a knock on his door at 9:29PM on Saturday evening, he nearly spilled out of his gaming chair. He typed in a quick “AFK” to his raid chat and scurried over to open the door.
Standing in the hallway was a woman Jalen had never seen before. She was about his height, with long, black hair, almond-shaped eyes, and a slender face. The instant he made eye contact with her, a shiver tickled his spine. She didn’t… look right. She was incredibly pale, and her eyes so dark a shade of brown that they looked black. She looked like a corpse.
“Uh.” Jalen glanced past her and looked both ways down the hall. They were alone. “Can I help you?”
“Jalen Romero?” the woman asked. Her voice was deep and dark, like the canvas of night.
“Yeah, that’s me…?”
She inspected him from head to foot. Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “So, what? You’re cute? Young? Is that it?”
Jalen had no idea what was happening.
“What do you do, Poindexter? Why did Pierce request you?”
The mention of the professor made Jalen snap to attention. “You know Professor Pierce? Is this about the TA position?”
“Is that what he’s calling it?” The woman hooted out a short, cruel laugh. “Man. I fucking hate that guy.”
Now Jalen really had no idea what was happening.
“So, what is it? Don’t just tell me you’re a star pupil or whatever. What’s your secret? What’re you good at?”
“Oh, uhm.” Jalen blinked at the barrage of questions. “I—I, uh. I’m… I’m studying compsci?”
The woman uttered one long ahh. “That would explain it. He needs someone to teach him how to use a damn phone.” She rolled her eyes with such vehemence, they looked like they were about to pop out of her head. “Let’s see if you stick around longer than the last one, I guess. At least tech is an actual useful skill. I think the last guy, like, painted or some shit. Think Pierce realized pretty early on that he had made a mistake—shoved him off to some Tory. Like he was pawning off a fucking trading card—man, have I mentioned how much I hate that guy?”
Jalen nodded along with her words. Smile and nod, smile and nod—maybe then this crazy lady would leave him alone.
“Sorry, sorry. Getting ahead of myself. Sure he wants to do the hard part himself.” The woman cleared her throat and set her hands on her hips. “Name’s Hyong. Something happen to your regnant? You contact me, no matter what else he tells you. I know you won’t because you’re gonna go stupid for him, but if you want to actually do the right thing, try to think with your brain and not your stomach. Got it?”
“…Uh?”
The woman fished through her pocket for a moment before she found what she was looking for and slammed a note with a crudely scrawled address onto the nearest wall. The drywall buckled, and it took Jalen a second to realize that she had managed to dent it.
“Show up there,” she said, pointing at the note. “Or send a letter. Raven. Whatever.” Seeming satisfied with her incomprehensible explanation, Hyong turned on her heel and took off down the hallway, leaving Jalen reeling like he was having a fever dream. Mid-stride, though, the woman stopped and looked back around.
“Oh, by the way—I shouldn’t have to mention this, but don’t do anything stupid, okay? You’re replaceable, first off. But if you do anything too stupid, that’s gonna reflect on Pierce. So, if you care about him, just listen to what he has to say. I think he’s on his way up.”
“He’s—what?” Jalen had a billion questions. Knowing Professor Pierce’s track record, though, he couldn’t imagine any of them actually being answered. Pierce had a knack for leaving him hanging.
“I’m getting out of here before it gets too gross. See ya.” Hyong pointed two finger guns at him. “Don’t lose that address. Or I’ll eat’cha,” she jibed, before she span back around, rounded the corner of the hallway, and vanished from sight.
Jalen faltered in the doorway. He glanced at the post-it note. Surprisingly, it didn’t transmogrify into a fourteen-headed spider with teeth, as was usually the case in his nightmares.
“Cool,” he said aloud. “Cool cool cool cool cool.” He closed the door, turned off his computer, and decided that it would be best if he went the fuck to bed.
Jalen was in the middle of brushing his teeth when yet another knock rapped on the door. Maybe this time it was the police, coming to whisk him off to the hospital because he was obviously having a brain aneurysm.
Already in his pajamas, Jalen crept across the carpet and cautiously creaked open the door. This time, he recognized the face—from both his dreams and his nightmares (he hadn’t decided which one he was having, yet).
“Oh, P-Professor!” For half a second, Jalen wanted to slam the door in his face in order to change into something more presentable (preferably something with a shirt), but he resisted the urge. He opened it wider, exposing himself and all of his embarrassment. “What are—what are you doing here?”
Professor Pierce was dressed down. Rather than his normal expensive suit and tie, he was wearing a soft, baby-blue button-up shirt tucked into blue jeans with a belt. Professor Pierce in jeans—okay, yeah, he was definitely hallucinating. He should call 911.
Pierce smiled at him pleasantly. “Good evening, Mr. Romero. There was something I needed to discuss with you. May I come in?”
“Oh, of course!” Jalen made way for him and gestured him inside. He was suddenly mortified at the mess: the room was half-packed, with Jalen’s clothes and textbooks scattered about with little regard. The only clean places were his unmade bed and the spotless computer desk, which he prided himself on keeping immaculate.
“S-sorry, it’s not really built for guests,” Jalen said, scratching the back of his neck. “Umm, the common room should be empty, since everybody’s left for break. Do you want to head over there, sir?”
“Thank you kindly for your offer, but I’m fine. This is a matter that needs to be discussed privately.” Pierce was doing a poor job at hiding his antipathy—his eyebrows twitched at the rat’s nest of junk. He wasn’t vocalizing it, though. “You can take a seat on the bed.”
Despite being in his own home, Jalen obeyed. He plopped himself down on the mattress and folded his hands politely into his lap. Pierce remained standing a few paces away, and his ambling eye caught notice of the post-it note still pinned to the wall.
“I take it you spoke with my associate? Miss Hyong?” he asked.
“Oh, so you do know her?” Jalen shifted in his spot. He felt naked, wearing only flimsy flannel pants. No underwear. “I, umm, had no idea what she was talking about. I thought I was hallucinating. I’m… pretty sure I’m still hallucinating.”
“You’re not, though I understand how it must have been confusin’ for you. I don’t know why she felt the need to do that.”
“What did she come here for, sir? She… mentioned you.”
Professor Pierce was silent for a moment. His eyebrows creased, and he rubbed his chin. He looked like a philosopher contemplating the holiest of text.
He eventually heaved a sigh, then crossed the floor to take a seat on the bed next to Jalen. Jalen folded up on himself to make room. His pounding heartbeat drowned out all of his previous concerns: all he could focus on was Pierce in his room, Pierce on his bed.
“Before we have this conversation, Mr. Romero, I need to confirm something with you.” Pierce angled himself to face Jalen properly. “You swore yourself to me. Is that still true?”
Jalen felt his heart prodding at the back of his throat. Pierce had never mentioned their rendezvous outside of his office before—this was unfamiliar territory. “S-sir, I—of course it’s true. You didn’t need to ask that.”
“I need you to look at me when you answer, Jalen. Really look. I want you to look at me and tell me what you see.”
Jalen wanted to object, but the gravity of Pierce’s tone made him think twice. He looked Pierce in his gorgeous blue eyes and searched his beautiful face. There, in the hazy half-light of his dorm room, Pierce looked… different. The bright blonde of his hair looked more ashy, and his angles weren’t as pronounced. He didn’t look bad, per se, but… strange. Tired, maybe? He couldn’t think of the word. That near otherworldly charisma and beauty he wielded so gracefully had fled, leaving behind only truth. Only Cecil.
“I see you, Professor.”
“And what am I to you?”
“Someone I respect very deeply. Someone I care about.” Someone he wished cared about him.
“Even now?” Pierce asked. “I ain’t here as your professor. I ain’t here to pull your strings, either. I’m here as all that I am. And now that you see that—you still care?”
Pierce blinked. He wasn’t maintaining eye-contact as resolutely as he normally did. Recognizing the absence of that innate strength, Jalen finally realized the word he had been stumbling over before: Professor Pierce looked human. He was all the more beautiful for it.
“Now more than ever,” was Jalen’s decided response.
Pierce’s lips parted, too stunned to speak.
“I don’t think there’s anything you could do that could make me care for you any less,” he went on. That was Jalen’s truth. He was terrified of it.
(This was how he was going to die. It would be by Pierce’s hand, by Pierce’s teeth. He had known from the second he stepped foot into Las Ganas’s shadow that he was going to drown in it.)
And he accepted it. He would die for him—gladly.
After a moment of charged silence, Pierce set a hand on Jalen’s knee. It blistered him through the fabric. “You said you would follow me into the darkness,” he murmured, thumb rubbing back and forth. “Are you ready to meet it?”
He thought back to Pierce’s beauty—to his silvered tongue, to his enrapturing eyes. He thought back to when he had lost himself in a pleasure so transcendent, it was hellish. He thought back to the bite and the blood.
(He knew what this was. Part of him always had.)
“Only if you’re there to teach me, Professor,” he vowed.
The professor tilted his head. Expectantly, Jalen realized.
“…Cecil,” Jalen murmured. The name tasted like golden ambrosia. It made him greedy for more. “Cecil, Cecil, Cecil.”
Pierce’s—Cecil’s—hands ghosted up Jalen’s side, all the way to his face. He brushed Jalen’s frizzy hair out of his eyes. He looked so vulnerable—Jalen wanted nothing more than to hold him close.
“I’ve been cruel to you, Jalen, and I apologize for that. I needed to make sure that you were being honest.” His thumb grazed over Jalen’s cheek, caressing the corner of his lips.
“I’m mortified you could think any differently, sir.”
“It wouldn’t be your fault. It’s easy to fool men into thinking they’re loyal. Few actually are.”
“Like Stephen?” Jalen had the guts to ask.
Cecil’s eyes crinkled at their corners. “Exactly like him.”
Jalen pursed his lips. While he had him here, he might as well try to ask his questions. “I spoke to him about that,” he whispered. He was afraid if he spoke too loudly, he’d wake himself up from his dream. “About the two of you. He didn’t… he didn’t remember anything about it. It happened, right? I—I wasn’t sure if I—it was so—”
“Hush.” Cecil’s finger pressed against the bow of Jalen’s lips. If Jalen opened his mouth, his tongue would taste him. “I’ll teach you, I promise. But I must warn you, Jalen, that you’ll never be the same if I do. It’s terribly selfish, askin’ you to join me. It’s one of the greatest sins one can commit.”
Cecil’s touch remained on his lips for a stuttering handful of heartbeats. The moment he pulled away, Jalen took the opportunity to speak: “If you want something, take it. If you want me, take me, sir.”
“You ain’t somethin’ to take. You’re human, Jalen. You’re young, and you’re innocent. I’ll ruin you. I already have.”
“I’m not as innocent as people think I am,” Jalen reiterated. He reached up and took Cecil’s wrists into his hands. “And I don’t care what people think about us. I think you’re wonderful, sir, and I want to know more about you. I want to be there with you. Be with you.”
Cecil analyzed him for a moment. His glasses cloaked his eyes in mirrored shadow. “It wouldn’t be love,” he said. “I need you to know that.”
“It doesn’t have to be. Being with you is enough.”
“I need you to be honest with me, Jalen. This can’t work if you ain’t honest with me.”
“It’s true, sir.” Jalen squeezed Cecil’s wrists. “I—might not stop hoping, but… as long as I’m important to you in some way, then I’ll be satisfied with that.”
“Oh, sweetheart. You need to demand more than that. What did you just tell me?”
Jalen squirmed. He wasn’t in the position to be making demands. Whatever Cecil was willing to give, he’d take. “But—sir, I’m… it’s true, I really—”
“I don’t want you to be a thrall to my will, Jalen, even if that’s what the name implies.” One of Cecil’s hands fell from Jalen’s face and traipsed along his shoulder. “It’s an exchange. It’s power. If you’re going to do me such a honor, Jalen, then I want to offer you something in return. I want to reward you for all that you have done and will do for me.”
“I—umm.” A blush crept up his face. He wondered how dark he must’ve looked against Cecil’s pale skin.
“So before we have this conversation—before I teach you—I want to offer that to you. Anythin’ of your choosing. Anythin’ I have to give.”
Jalen’s heart thundered. “Anything, sir?”
“I said what I said.”
Jalen’s answer was easy. He had said it a thousand times in his fantasies. “I want to be with you, at least once,” he said. He flushed even deeper as he amended, “I want to make love to you, sir.”
Cecil smiled. At some point during their conversation, that vulnerability creeping into his shadows had faded: his grace had returned, painting him in angelic visage. His hand wandered along Jalen’s chest as he familiarized himself with his form. Jalen was soft and skinny—feminine, even. He still got carded for R-rated movies, he looked so young.
“What would you have me do?” asked Cecil.
Jalen trembled at the question. Cecil wasn’t just gifting him a favor, Jalen realized: he was gifting him control. He was Cecil right now, not Professor Pierce, and that prestige he wielded like a sword was no longer pointed at his throat. If anything, he had handed it to Jalen. The implication was obvious: take my offer, and this power could someday be yours.
“Take off your clothes,” Jalen ordered.
Cecil curtly nodded his head and slipped away from him. The first garment he removed were his glasses, which he set neatly aside on the bedside table. He unbuckled his leather belt next, then untucked and pulled off his shirt. It was the first time Jalen had seen his bare chest: he was lithe and hairless, with pink nipples pebbled in the cold. In the next moment, Cecil kicked off his shoes and socks, followed by his pants and underwear. His dick was already half-hard. When he was finished, he leaned back on the bed, flaunting his naked body and smiling all the while.
Jalen licked his lips. “I can’t believe you’re so pretty,” he goggled. “God, you’re pretty.”
“You flatter me,” said Cecil, but Jalen was certain he knew damn well he was pretty.
“Is it—can I touch you?”
“You can do whatever you want to me.”
He shivered at the permission, swallowed, and reached out to brush his hands along Cecil’s chest. He was remarkably cold, considering the given situation—though when Jalen swirled a finger around his nipple, he saw how his dick twitched. Laid so utterly bare, not even Cecil could hide anything anymore.
“Umm.” Jalen continued to cosset Cecil as he spoke. “I… don’t really know what I’m doing. I’ve never—not with anyone besides you, sir.”
“That’s all right. You can take your time.”
Jalen’s hands ran down Cecil’s torso, hesitating just above his dick. He was sweating bullets, and his hand was shaking so badly, he couldn’t even focus on it.
“Do you like women, Jalen?” Cecil asked.
“I—huh?” That came out of nowhere. It took Jalen a couple seconds to process the question. “No, sir. I don’t have… experience, but I’m definitely gay.”
“How did you learn that about yourself?”
Porn. That didn’t sound very eloquent on his part, though, so he decided on something else. “Erm, w-well… in high school, you know, everyone’s really horny, and everyone has crushes on each other. I wasn’t really interested in anyone like that, though—nobody except for my friends, who were all, you know, guys.”
“Did you ever tell them you were interested in them?”
“No. I didn’t live in a very progressive town. And they were all religious—family was, too. If my mom found out, I… I don’t know what would’ve happened.”
Cecil hummed. He adjusted himself into a more comfortable position on the bed, spreading his legs wider. “You’re headin’ back home over break, is that right?”
It was hard to maintain the sexy mood while also maintaining small talk. “I am. I’m getting kicked out of the dorm, come Monday.”
“Do you want to stay here?”
Jalen’s heart buckled. “Sir?”
“I could arrange somethin’ for you,” Cecil offered. “I’d rather have you close. And I wouldn’t want you facin’ your parents—not with come in your teeth.”
His pajama pants felt way too tight. “I… that would be amazing, Profes—Cecil. Thank you.”
“Of course. I want to help you succeed in any way that I can.” He laid down onto the mattress, propping his head up with his forearm to maintain eye contact. He looked so unbelievably sexy, Jalen salivated. “Anythin’ else you wanted from me?”
“Fuck,” Jalen hissed. “Can you—I’m not—can you… touch yourself?”
Cecil’s hands roamed down to his dick. He took himself into one hand and began to rub, dryly.
“Ah, lotion!” Jalen leapt towards his bedside table and threw open a drawer. He scrambled through his mess of belongings for an embarrassingly long time, before he located the bottle and handed it off to Cecil. “S-sorry, I’m—I’m really not used to this.”
“No need to apologize. As I’ve told you before—I find it cute.” He squirted the lotion into his hand and moistened his palms. When he took hold of his dick again, he was firmer with himself—he jerked himself from root to head in long, twisting pumps.
“Oh my god,” Jalen drooled. “You look… good at that.”
“Years of practice,” said Cecil.
Jalen didn’t doubt it. “Do you—do you feel good? What do you, umm, like?”
“I like it when my partner doesn’t ask too many questions.”
“Ah. You—uhm. You like your hair pulled, don’t you? I noticed that… umm, earlier.”
Cecil’s breath hitched, and his hips canted to fuck his fist. He didn’t seem keen on acknowledging the question.
“I’d like you to answer me, please,” Jalen said, voice as soft as it was stern.
“I do,” Cecil confessed without a beat of hesitation. “I enjoy being touched. Which, for someone who’s never had the opportunity before, you seem awfully hesitant to do.”
Jalen had thought he had been doing a good job of being dominating there for a moment, but Cecil had effortlessly turned his words against him. He blushed and suddenly remembered—yeah, he was a lawyer, wasn’t he?
Deciding to just take the loss, Jalen sat up onto his knees and crawled closer to Cecil. He squirted some lotion onto his hands, then set about massaging Cecil’s legs. He squeezed the toned muscles of his thighs and slipped into the divot of his groin.
“You’re so smooth,” Jalen admired. “You’re so… wow.”
“I picked a lucky day to shave.” Cecil’s voice remained ever even, even as he jerked himself off. He was definitely getting hard, but Jalen had a hard time telling if he was, you know, enjoying himself.
Ever so gently, Jalen nudged against Cecil’s pumping fingers with his knuckle. He brushed experimentally down the length: it felt hot, heavy. He swallowed down his nerves, then gripped it lightly around its girth. Cecil acquiesced to his silent request and pulled his hand away, giving Jalen room to play around with hesitant strokes of his own.
Jalen looked up at him. “Is this—is this good, sir?”
Cecil’s response was a thoughtful hum. Jalen stroked a little faster, a little rougher. “Better, sir?” he asked.
“Do you want my honest opinion?”
That didn’t sound positive. “I’d like for you to teach me. I want to learn from you, sir—oh!”
Cecil wrapped one of his hands around Jalen’s. He made him grip his dick a little firmer, then pumped the two of their hands together with frightening vigor. Cecil’s hand on his, the heat of his dick—Jalen felt like he was going to faint.
“Be confident,” Cecil urged. “Don’t dance around me. I ain’t gonna break.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“I’ve slept with too many folks who aren’t confident. I prefer a man who knows what he wants and acts on it. Are you that man or not?”
“I am,” answered Jalen. His other hand slipped beneath Cecil and brushed over his balls. He wasn’t sure what to do with them—Cecil had touched his before, and it felt good, but… god, he had no idea what he was doing. “But you’re still my mentor, sir. I value your opinion. I’d like to hear it.”
Cecil sighed—apparently, that wasn’t the answer he had been looking for. Maybe he hadn’t phrased himself well enough.
“I love your voice,” Jalen tried again. He leaned into Cecil as he spoke, pressing his lips to his shoulder. “I want to hear you talk more.”
“I appreciate that. I pride myself on my public speakin’.”
“I want to hear you swear,” Jalen went on, drunk on the idea alone. “Talk… you know, dirty.”
Cecil raised an eyebrow at him. He slipped his hand off of Jalen’s and set it down onto the mattress. His fingers knotted in the sheets.
“You’d look good with my cock in your mouth,” Cecil said, and Jalen nearly came right there on the spot. He whimpered out a strained “fuck,” and his hips bucked into empty air.
“You’re droolin’ over me again. Maybe you’d rather me suck you off, is that it? You wanna pull my hair? Drown me on your dick? Don’t think I didn’t notice how wild you got the last time. I bet you’d wanna come down my throat—make me fuckin’ choke on it.”
Jalen nodded his head. “Fuck yes,” he muttered.
“Or I could fill you up,” Cecil suggested. “I’d breed you from behind like the horny bitch you are, but I’d wanna see how dumb you’d look when you felt a cock up your ass for the first time. I’d split you in two. Fuck you so hard you’d bleed—so hard that you couldn’t walk the next day, next week, and every zealot in your backwater, hick town would know you’re a cockslut in trainin’. Every one of those repressed priests you grew up with would line up for a piece of that perky little ass.”
Jalen’s strokes were getting sloppy. Cecil must have noticed: he sat up and pressed Jalen back down onto the bed, breaking their touch. He planted his knees on either side of his hips, hands on either side of his head, then fell forward and rutted against his still-clothed dick. Jalen cried out—his hands gripped Cecil’s thighs, nail scraping and breaking skin as he humped back.
“Listen to you, moanin’ like some cheap-rate whore. Shit, do I wanna give you somethin’ to cry about. I wanna drain you fuckin’ dry while I plug your throat with my cock.” He looked down under his shoulder, back at where he was grinding. “You’re makin’ a fuckin’ mess of yourself. Are you gonna come in your pants, frottin’ like a teenager in summer? Oh wait—you are a teenager, aren’t you? Still just a needy child, desperate for his teacher’s approval.”
Stars spangled behind Jalen’s eyes. He fumbled with his waist and tugged his pajama pants down to his calves. Cecil’s dick rubbed against his, and—fuck, fuck, fuck, he was close.
“Is this what you set out to become? Teacher’s pet? My own pretty whore?” Cecil shifted all of his weight to one arm, then grabbed for their dicks. He cupped them both together, hot and wicked and wild. “You wanna be a virgin cocksleeve for an older man’s dick, tight little thing that you are? You wanna be my personal blood bag? My lick?”
“Please, Professor, yes,” Jalen gasped, back arching. He couldn’t help but slip back into formality: Cecil commanded respect.
“You will be. You’ll belong to me. My blood in your veins, my come in your ass. They’ll smell me in you. They’ll take one look at you and know that you bow to my dick. You want that? You wanna be my pet? My thrall?”
“Yes, yes, fuck yes.”
Cecil’s face was inches away from Jalen’s. He looked him in the eye and smiled wide enough to bare teeth—bare fangs. He bit down on his lip with them and punctured his skin. Blood coated his lips and dribbled down his chin, blushing like wild roses budding in the snow. Droplets splashed onto Jalen’s chest.
“Then pray,” Cecil said, and he leaned down to kiss him.
The taste of him—the taste of that blood on his tongue, beating so darkly with sin—sent Jalen spiraling over the edge. It tasted like nectar, like twilight—like how Cecil’s name felt on his lips. It was more delicious than anything Jalen had ever tasted before, and he swallowed all that he could. He moaned into Cecil’s mouth, and Cecil’s tongue tangled with his. He came in white-hot spurts between them, splattering both of their naked bodies.
Cecil parted from his lips and fell into the bend of Jalen’s neck. He took him between his teeth, and he bit. Fuck, he bit—and that same magnificent rush of pleasure that had overwhelmed him back in Cecil’s office swept through his senses a second time. This time, though, he was able to stay conscious, and he felt felicity course through his veins like venom. He could feel Cecil’s mouth move on him, sucking him—drinking him. Jalen’s muscles tensed, and he reached one dry, painful climax after another. It wasn’t long before Cecil’s pumping hand quickened in pace and he whined as he reached his own peak.
While Jalen didn’t black out, his vision had gone spotty, and his mind felt like Swiss cheese. He barely registered Cecil licking the wound on his neck. He only really came to when Cecil collapsed onto the bed beside him. He nuzzled into Jalen, tongue still tracing patterns on his skin.
Jalen’s lips were buzzing in the aftermath of their kiss. He licked them, savoring what remained of the sweetness. Darkness bubbled in his blood.
“Thank you,” Cecil eventually said. His voice was as soft as cotton. “I hope you feel confident in your decision—and I hope that was reward enough for your sacrifice. For the time bein’, at least.”
Jalen wrapped an arm around him. It was a mockery of a romantic gesture—one that he was surprised Cecil didn’t shrug out of. “That was—I mean, that—god, Professor, I can’t even—”
“I’m sure you have plenty of questions,” Cecil interrupted. “I’ll answer them all, in time. All you need to know right now is that you’re bound to me.”
“I already was, sir.”
“Mm. I suppose so.” Cecil pulled away a breath to look Jalen in the eyes. His blonde hair was rumpled, and a pink flush washed from his cheeks down across his throat. His eyes were heavy, too. He looked, by all measures of the phrase, fucked out. He was a picture: beautiful, divine.
“I’m in love with you,” Jalen uttered. He had been for months. But there—in that soft, tender moment—Jalen realized that Cecil wasn’t just his first love, but his last and only. He would never love anyone as deeply as he did Cecil Pierce. He was going to be by his side until the final nights rained chaos on them both.
“Please,” Jalen whispered desperately. His voice came apart in his throat. “It doesn’t have to be true, but—I’d like to hear it, in your voice. I just want to hear you say it.”
Cecil blinked at him. His eyes were so dark: blue had given way to ocean depths, to dusky skies. Jalen was enthralled by them. They tangled him in Cecil’s evil, spiriting him beyond the edge of his humanity and further into an unfathomable, all-engulfing, and unforgivable world of darkness.
“I love you too, Jalen.”
And that smile, as sweet as vitae, was the only light Jalen would ever need.