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

010

ADRIAN'S POV

The fluorescent light above the sink flickers, buzzing like a trapped insect. Adrian leans against the cold porcelain basin, the taste of tobacco lingering on his tongue. He takes a long drag from the cigarette pinched between his fingers, the smoke curling up toward the stained ceiling tiles. He needs this. He needs the nicotine to settle the jittery energy rattling his bones, but it isn’t working. The image of Ryder’s mouth on his keeps replaying behind his eyelids—soft, hesitant, completely wrong. It woke something up in him, a restless, hungry beast that he usually keeps chained in the dark. He can’t think about Ryder. He can’t afford to. He needs to f**k the thought out of his head.

He taps the ash into the sink, watching the grey flakes crumble. With his free hand, he pulls his phone from his pocket and dials the number he knows by heart. It rings twice.

“Yeah?” Brian’s voice is breathy, already knowing why he’s calling.

“My office,” Adrian says, his voice rougher than usual. “Five minutes.”

“On my way,” Brian replies, a smirk audible in the tone.

Adrian ends the call and tosses the phone onto the counter. He and Brian have a system. They met at a dive bar on the edge of town, sweating under neon lights, and ended up in a stall much like this one. The next week, Adrian saw him in the faculty hallway, grading papers in the English department. They made a deal: no feelings, no dates, just relief. A hole to fill when the pressure gets too high. It’s clean. It’s simple. It’s exactly what he needs right now to scrub the memory of that kiss from his skin.

He stubs out the cigarette, grinding the butt into the porcelain until it’s nothing but shredded paper. He checks his reflection—dark circles under his eyes, jaw tight. He looks like a man about to commit a crime.

A sharp knock echoes through the outer office.

Adrian moves fast, striding out of the bathroom and across the carpeted floor. He unlocks the heavy oak door and pulls it open before Brian can knock again. Brian stands there, dressed in a tight polo shirt that shows off his gym-built chest, a grin plastered on his face. He opens his mouth to speak, probably some quip about Adrian being eager, but Adrian doesn’t give him the chance.

He grabs Brian by the collar and yanks him inside, slamming the door shut with his foot. Before the latch even clicks, Adrian crashes their mouths together. It isn’t a kiss; it’s an attack. He tastes mint and the lingering ghost of coffee. Brian stumbles, surprised by the force, but his hands instantly find Adrian’s waist, pulling him closer.

“f**k, someone’s eager,” Brian tries to laugh against Adrian’s lips.

Adrian doesn’t answer. He spins them around, marching Brian backward toward the open door of the bathroom. He kicks the door shut behind them, locking them in the cramped, sterile space. The air is still thick with the smell of his earlier smoke.

“Turn around,” Adrian growls, shoving at Brian’s shoulder.

Brian hits the tiled wall with a dull thud, but he obeys, bracing his hands against the mirror. He arches his back, sticking his ass out in a silent invitation. Adrian reaches around, roughly undoing Brian’s belt and yanking his trousers down to his knees. He doesn’t bother with finesse. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of Brian’s underwear and drags them down, exposing the tight, pale muscle of his ass.

Adrian drops to his knees. He spreads Brian’s cheeks and spits directly onto the hole, watching the saliva glisten. He leans in and licks a broad, wet stripe over the puckered entrance, tasting the soap and skin. Brian gasps, his head falling forward.

“God, Adrian…” Brian moans, his voice echoing off the tiles.

Adrian ignores him. He stands up, undoing his own slacks with frantic, jerky movements. His c**k is already rock hard, straining against the fabric of his boxers. He frees himself, the heavy length slapping against his stomach. He spits into his palm, stroking his d**k twice to coat it, then lines the head up with Brian’s hole.

He pushes inside in one brutal thrust.

“Ah! f**k!” Brian cries out, his knuckles turning white as he grips the edges of the sink.

Adrian doesn’t pause. He grips Brian’s hips hard enough to bruise, pulling him back onto his c**k. He sets a punishing rhythm, slamming his hips forward with enough force to rattle the mirror on the wall. The sound of skin slapping against skin is loud, wet, and aggressive. It’s exactly what he wanted. The friction burns away the confusion, the heat replacing the cold knot in his chest.

“Shut up,” Adrian snaps, noticing Brian’s moans getting louder. If anyone walks by the office, they’ll hear.

Brian just whimpers, pushing back to meet every thrust. “I can’t help it, you’re so deep today, f**k…”

Adrian reaches forward, clamping his left hand over Brian’s mouth. He presses his palm tight, smothering the noise. Brian’s hot breath fans out against Adrian’s fingers, his tongue flicking out to wet the skin. Adrian uses the leverage to f**k him harder, driving his c**k in until his balls slap against Brian’s taint.

“You take it so good,” Adrian grunts, his breath hitching. “Just a tight little hole, aren’t you?”

Brian’s muffled groans vibrate against Adrian’s hand. His eyes roll back, pleasure and pain warring on his face. Adrian watches him in the mirror, watching the way Brian’s body jolts with every impact. He focuses on the physical—the tight heat gripping him, the sweat beading on Brian’s neck, the smell of s*x filling the small room. He forces himself to exist only in this moment, in this animalistic act.

The pressure builds at the base of Adrian’s spine. He can feel the orgasm tearing through him, violent and sudden. He buries himself to the hilt, grinding his hips as he spills deep inside Brian. He bites down on his own lip to stifle a groan, his vision whiting out.

He stays there for a moment, panting, his forehead resting against Brian’s shoulder. Then he pulls out, his softening c**k slipping free with a wet sound. He steps back, tucking himself away and zipping up his fly.

Brian slumps against the sink, breathing hard. He pulls his pants up slowly, his legs shaking. He turns to look at Adrian, a mix of awe and concern on his flushed face.

“Jesus, Adrian,” Brian says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You were a little aggressive today. Everything okay?”

Adrian doesn’t look at him. He walks over to the paper towel dispenser and pulls out a handful, wiping his hands clean. He says nothing. The deal was no feelings, and that includes concern.

“Right,” Brian huffs, adjusting his shirt. “Silence. I get it.”

Adrian moves to the bathroom door and holds it open, a clear dismissal.

Brian walks past him, hesitating for a second in the doorway to the outer office. “Call me if you need to blow off steam again,” he mutters, then steps out into the hallway.

Adrian follows him out, intending to lock the door and be alone with his cigarette again. But as Brian opens the office door to leave, he nearly collides with a solid figure standing in the hallway.

William stands there, his hand raised as if he was about to knock. He’s wearing a tweed jacket that looks too warm for the weather, his eyes sharp behind wire-rimmed glasses. He stops short, looking from Brian’s disheveled appearance to Adrian standing in the doorway of the bathroom.

Brian mumbles an apology and sidesteps him, hurrying down the hall without looking back.

William watches Brian go, then slowly turns his gaze back to Adrian. His eyes narrow, scanning Adrian’s rumpled shirt, the flush on his neck, the heavy scent of tobacco and s*x that must be wafting out of the room. The suspicion is written all over his face, a detective finding a clue he didn’t expect.

“Adrian,” William says, his voice low and measured. He takes a step closer, invading Adrian’s personal space. “I was looking for you.”

Adrian grips the doorknob, his knuckles tightening. He doesn’t have the patience for an interrogation. “I’m busy, William. Whatever it is, make it quick.”

William ignores the brush-off. He leans in, his eyes darting past Adrian to the open bathroom door. “That was… quite a visit. Is everything alright? You look… unsettled.”

“I said I’m busy,” Adrian snaps, starting to close the door.

William wedges his foot in the gap, stopping the door from shutting. The wood hits his shoe with a dull thud. He looks Adrian dead in the eye, the playfulness gone from his expression.

“I’m not here about your extracurricular activities,” William says, his tone dropping, serious and grave. “I tried calling, but you didn’t pick up. It’s your mother, Adrian. Something’s happened.”