Twice through the lecture, while Kinney was doing his visual scan, his eyes locked with Greg’s. “Current methods of producing silver... silver nanoparticles include...”
Kinney paused.
The first time, Greg let him glance at his lecture slides to remember his sentence. The second time, Greg raised his hand, stopping Kinney halfway through an awkward pause. “Professor. Most of the procedures involve aqueous solutions. Are there nanoparticles synthesized in solid state?”
Kinney froze, and a slow smile crept over his lips. “There are, actually. Carbon nanotubes are an excellent example of solid-state synthesis. Several studies have reported...”
He’s smiling because of me. Greg’s cheeks burned. He glanced down at his lecture notes, then back up when Kinney went on a tangent about the nanotubes. Kinney wasn’t looking at him, of course, but his smile lingered, and Greg couldn’t stop looking at it.
For a fifty-minute lecture, time whizzed by like a basketball game. Except all Greg had done was remain seated, his heart jumping through hoops in his chest.
At the end of the lecture, Kinney said, “Your homework is the assignment I’ve uploaded on the intranet. Please submit last week’s homework on the podium according to your classes.”
Greg waited until the lecture hall cleared. When just a few people remained, Kinney unplugged his flash drive, stacking the assignments together, his movements hurried.
He was fleeing from Greg, as usual. Greg stepped off the stairs, striding to the podium just as the professor turned to leave.
“Hey,” Greg said, lightly catching Kinney’s wrist. It was thin in his hand, warm.
Kinney looked up, his breath hitching, his eyes flying to the empty seats.
If Kinney had pulled away, or looked at him with revulsion, Greg would’ve let him go. But he stayed, his eyes raking down Greg’s chest, his nostrils flaring.
The doors slammed shut. There was no more movement in the empty room, no more people, save for Greg and Kinney. Kinney’s chest heaved.
“You keep running,” Greg said, watching his professor. Kinney smelled like a mix of alpha and omega and musk, and Greg wanted to lean closer, breathe Kinney’s scent right off his skin.
“This isn’t appropriate,” Kinney murmured, but he didn’t pull his hand away. “You know that.”
“You forgot my homework.” Greg held his assignment out. Kinney made to accept it, but Greg held on to his hand, sliding his assignment between Kinney’s chest and the stack in his arm. The end of the sheet scraped against Kinney’s shirt all the way down, catching on the buttons. When he’d gotten the homework almost aligned with the rest, Greg stepped closer, raising Kinney’s trapped hand to his lips.
Kinney’s throat worked, and he couldn’t look away.
Greg turned Kinney’s wrist toward himself, dragging his nose over smooth skin, to where Kinney’s hibiscus scent was the strongest on his wrist. There wasn’t a trace of birch here, no silvery scar. On this wrist, there was no marking from an alpha.
Something in Greg’s chest roared. What if he’s mine?
“You’re not stepping away,” Greg whispered. His grip was feather-light.
“I would if you’d let me,” the professor breathed, but Greg felt the flutter of his pulse. Faint musk curled into his nostrils, like he’d gotten Kinney hot, just by smelling his wrist.
“You want me,” Greg said.
Kinney’s throat worked. “No.”
But his eyes read I need, and Greg parted his lips, dragging his tongue over Kinney’s scent gland. Then he sucked lightly on it, two short, firm tugs, and musk rolled through the air between them, heady and sweet, distinctly omega.
Greg glanced down. There was a telling line in Kinney’s black pants now, and Greg’s blood surged between his legs. Then he looked up.
Kinney’s pupils had blown wide, his lower lip bitten red. He yanked his hand out of Greg’s, striding away to hide his erection. But the sight of it had burned into Greg’s mind, and he couldn’t think about anything else.
Kinney had stayed. Kinney had gotten hard for him, and maybe he didn’t actually want that relationship with his TA, after all.
A spark of hope lit in Greg’s chest, tiny and bright, like the candle he used to keep by his window.
The professor didn’t look back at him as he left, but Greg was fine with that. He had a chance with Kinney. Now he needed not to fuck everything up.
3
Dale
A week later, Dale stared at the ungraded assignments on his desk, his body aching.
His heat had begun yesterday, taking him by surprise—it was supposed to be milder now that he was forty-two, except his hormones were acting up. He’d spent his weekend preparing for this week’s classes, adjusting the syllabus.
Then his hormones had swollen like the tide and torn through his body, sending a throbbing ache through his limbs.
Dale wanted.
All of yesterday, Dale had locked himself up in his apartment with his hands down his pants, trying to work off the ravenous desire in his body. He’d thought about last week over and over, Greg’s large hand around his wrist, Greg’s nose dragging along his skin.
The thought of Greg’s tongue on his wrist had ripped an orgasm through him, and there’d been no refractory period before he was hard again. Dale had groaned, sliding a plug up his ass, pretending it was Greg’s knot.
He’d gone through three pairs of briefs before he’d given up on clothes, stroking himself until he’d barely had any cum left. His body had given him a two-hour break. Then lust had crawled through his limbs, and Dale had gone back to stroking himself sore. He was still a little tender, his foreskin pinkish, sensitive to touch.
To force those thoughts from his mind, he’d dragged himself to work, popping a suppressant so he wouldn’t be distracted.
Except the suppressant didn’t seem to be helping, and he was faintly damp, a vague restlessness whispering through his mind.
Stop thinking about him. He’s your student.
The assignments stared up at him, accusing. They were due in an hour. Dale had promised to return them to his class today, so
