MY OFF-LIMITS PROFESSOR... BUT HE'S MINE

008

RYDER'S POV

Professor Adrian stands behind his mahogany desk, the polished wood reflecting the harsh afternoon light. He lifts a hand, his fingers trembling slightly, and adjusts the wire-rimmed glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. The lenses magnify his eyes, eyes that are currently wide with a mixture of professional resolve and lingering anxiety. He clears his throat, the sound scraping against the quiet air, and fixes his gaze on Ryder standing opposite him.

"Mr. Knight," Adrian begins, his voice dropping into that deep, resonant baritone that usually commands lecture halls but now feels thin in the confined space. "We need to discuss the incident that happen yesterday. The way you speak to me, the comments you make during lecture hours... it constitutes s****l harassment." He pauses, smoothing the front of his tweed jacket, trying to impose order on the situation. "I have every right to take this to the Dean. The way you look at me, the things you’ve said about my... my person. It is unacceptable."

Ryder stood tall his hands tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket. He doesn’t look at the file on the desk. He doesn’t look at Adrian’s eyes. His focus has narrowed, tunneling in on a single, distracting point.

Adrian continues, his voice tight. “However, considering your academic record and the absence of any serious previous issues, I’m letting this go with a warning. But don’t mistake my patience for weakness. This behavior ends here. Show some respect when you speak to me, and stop looking at me like I’m something to be claimed.”

The words wash over Ryder like static, meaningless noise. His brain has short-circuited. All he can see is Adrian’s lips. As the professor speaks, his lips move with a wet, inviting rhythm. They are naturally red, a flushed crimson that contrasts starkly with his pale skin. They look pouty, the lower lip fuller than the top, glistening slightly with a sheen of saliva. Every syllable Adrian utters makes that mouth move, and Ryder feels a visceral throb in his groin, a sudden, rush of blood that makes his d**k twitch against the denim of his jeans.

Why the f**k is he reacting like this? Ryder shifts, his jaw clenching. It’s just the professor. It’s just Adrian, with his stiff tweed and his glasses and his f*****g mouth. But the reaction is undeniable. His c**k is hardening, thickening as he watches those red lips form words he isn’t even listening to. He imagines them wrapped around something else, imagines the heat of that mouth, the softness of the tongue. The thought sends a jolt of electricity down his spine, clouding his vision with a haze of lust.

"Mr. Knight?" Adrian’s voice rises a notch, the deep baritone cracking with uncertainty. "Are you listening to me?"

Ryder doesn’t blink. He stares at the lips, mesmerized by the way they part slightly as Adrian takes a breath. The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating.

"Ryder!" Adrian snaps, his patience fracturing.

Still, Ryder doesn’t move. He is lost in the fantasy, lost in the visual of that pouting, red mouth. He doesn’t hear the panic rising in Adrian’s tone. He doesn’t see the way the professor’s knuckles turn white as he grips the edge of the desk.

Adrian’s heart hammers against his ribs, a frantic rhythm that drowns out his own thoughts. He calls Ryder’s name again, louder this time, but the student remains catatonic, his eyes glazed and fixed unerringly on Adrian’s face. Fear spikes in Adrian’s chest. Is he having a seizure? A stroke? The sheer lack of response is terrifying.

Adrian scrambles out from behind the desk, his chair screeching against the floor. He rushes to Ryder’s side, reaching out to grab his shoulder. He shakes him, hard. "Mr. Knight answer me!"

Ryder’s body is solid, warm, and unyielding under his grip, but he doesn’t react. He just keeps staring.

Panic, cold and sharp, floods Adrian’s system. He needs help. He needs security. He pulls his hand back as if burned and spins toward the door. He has to get out. He has to call someone.

His hand barely grazes the brass doorknob before a vice-like grip clamps around his left bicep, yanking him backward. The force is staggering, stealing the breath from his lungs. Adrian stumbles, his back hitting the wall with a dull thud. He whirls around, his eyes wide, breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

He looms over Adrian, his expression unreadable, his dark eyes burning with an intensity that makes Adrian’s stomach drop. The hand on Adrian’s arm is iron, fingers digging into the muscle, pinning him in place.

"Ryder, let go—" Adrian starts, his voice trembling. "Are you okay? You weren't responding, I thought—"

Ryder doesn’t answer. He takes a step closer, invading Adrian’s personal space, eliminating the distance between them. He ignores the question, ignores the fear radiating off the smaller man. His eyes drop back to Adrian’s lips, the hunger in them unmistakable now. It’s a predatory look, a starving look.

"Your lips" Ryder mutters, the words a low growl.

Adrian’s head hits the wall again from the impact, a sharp pain blooming at the base of his skull. He freezes, his entire body locking up in shock. This is wrong. This is impossible. He can’t move, can’t breathe, can't think.

Ryder doesn’t wait for permission. He doesn’t care about permission. He grinds his mouth against Adrian’s, tasting the lipstick, the fear, the heat. He feels Adrian trying to pull away, trying to clamp his mouth shut, and it only fuels the fire in his blood.

Ryder’s teeth sink into Adrian’s lower lip, hard.

Adrian cries out, the sound muffled by Ryder’s mouth, and his lips part in a reflexive gasp of pain. Ryder takes the invitation instantly, his tongue surging forward, plunging deep into Adrian’s wet, unresisting mouth. He licks into the heat, claiming the space, tasting the inside of Adrian’s cheeks, his teeth, his tongue. The metallic tang of blood blooms where the bite broke the skin.

Adrian’s hands claw at Ryder’s shoulders, pushing, shoving, but Ryder is an immovable wall of muscle. He holds Adrian’s head in place, forcing the kiss deeper, harder, stealing the air from his lungs. The professor’s glasses are knocked askew, the frames digging into the bridge of his nose, but Ryder doesn’t stop. He devours him, sucking on Adrian’s tongue, biting his lips again, ensuring the older man can’t close his mouth, can’t deny him entry. The wet, sloppy sounds of the kiss fill the silent office, loud and obscene.