If he packed up now, he’d probably feel even more like a failure.
Then the door opened, and Brad looked up.
Instead of June Kindling’s muscular frame, he found someone slender at the door—blond hair streaked with gray, steel-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. Sea-blue eyes, sharp jaw, a long-sleeved shirt and dark pants.
Seven years later, Ian McMillan looked the same. Maybe a little more tired, a little older.
Brad’s heart stumbled.
He didn’t know why he was this excited, when McMillan could’ve already found himself an alpha.
McMillan froze in the doorway, his eyes locking onto Brad. Then his gaze dragged down Brad’s chest and up his arms, and an answering warmth coiled between Brad’s legs.
Brad stopped stretching. He put his hands down on his desk, and watched as McMillan took a tentative step forward, his eyes still locked on Brad. He hadn’t so much as glanced at the rest of the class.
You still remember me, then.
Brad wet his lips. He wanted to say Hey, but he was in a class with nineteen other students. It wasn’t the right time.
The professor blinked, shaking his head. Then he looked away, setting his things on the teacher’s desk. Like he was trying to pretend Brad didn’t exist.
“Good evening,” McMillan said, his voice smooth and mellow in Brad’s ears. “I’m Ian McMillan—June Kindling has been teaching this class for me for the past couple months. I’m happy to say I’m finally able to conduct classes again.”
“Why?” Brad blurted. Barely stopped himself from adding, I’ve been waiting for you.
McMillan looked up, meeting Brad’s eyes for a second. Brad’s stomach flipped.
Then McMillan looked away, giving a lopsided smile. “Health issues. It won’t affect our class schedule, though. You won’t have to worry about that.”
Brad sat straighter in his seat, looking McMillan over. What sort of health issues had kept him away for three months? It sounded like something serious.
There were crow’s feet at his eyes, and his skin was pale—but McMillan looked the same as he had. Brad still remembered; maybe he shouldn’t have. Maybe he’d been staring at McMillan’s portrait on the college website too many times.
The professor handed the nearest student a stack of graded assignments. Then he began setting up the visualizer on his desk.
Visualizers were sort of new to Brad—he’d never seen them before he’d enrolled in college. They were an advanced version of overhead projectors, with a camera that streamed videos in real-time onto a projector screen.
As he watched McMillan, Brad bit down a smile. That habit had stayed the same—most teachers these days preferred presentation slides, instead of drawing things on paper and showing those drawings to the class.
On McMillan’s hands, there was no ring. It wasn’t indicative, though. Maybe the professor had a bonding mark on his neck, or his wrists. His shirt hid all those spots, and Brad shouldn’t want to unbutton McMillan’s shirt, peel it off his skin. Kiss his collarbones.
Instead, he breathed in deep. No alpha’s woodsy scent. Just rose, and an almost overpowering musk.
McMillan was in heat.
Brad gulped, his mouth going dry. The last time Brad saw McMillan, he’d been in heat, too.
He shouldn’t want to pin McMillan beneath himself, shouldn’t want to see him shiver and beg. Shouldn’t want to step up close and ask, Do you remember that afternoon in your office?
Once upon a summer afternoon, Brad had kissed this omega, and McMillan had smiled, his eyes fluttering shut.
Brad had been with other omegas since, but none of those encounters stood out as much as that afternoon with McMillan. Having McMillan’s nails rake down his back, having him stare up at Brad like Brad was the most important person in his life.
Like Brad was the only one who could give him something he craved.
“We’ll be going through the methods of large-scale nanoparticle production today,” McMillan said, dimming the lights at the front of the classroom. “As always, these lessons work best if you’ve already read the prescribed text.”
He was so different when he was at work, that Brad knew none of the other students had seen McMillan the way he was in bed—hungry, flushed, vulnerable.
And Brad wanted to see him that way again—just the two of them, McMillan begging him for touch.
McMillan with his throat bared, groaning when Brad sucked on his pulse point.
McMillan with his cock throbbing, spurting all over Brad’s hand.
Brad’s pants grew tight.
He watched as McMillan sat behind the visualizer, uncapped a marker, and began to draw an introduction to the commercial manufacturing processes.
He couldn’t help remembering those days, back when he’d sat with his professor in the office, talking about inorganic compounds and reaction speeds. McMillan had smiled, and Brad had asked if McMillan had always been good at his studies.
I wasn’t great with some classes, McMillan had answered. Failed a couple. But I’m here, aren’t I? I retook those classes, figured out what I did wrong, and got better. Life’s like that sometimes.
He had been so very human, and maybe Brad had nursed a crush on him.
Maybe that crush still burned in his chest.
He breathed in deep, picking out McMillan’s heat scent amongst all the other scents. Wondered if McMillan would want him again, for just one night. No strings attached. Just some heat, some loving, and McMillan’s writhing body beneath Brad’s.
McMillan, taking every inch of Brad’s cock.
Brad swallowed, needing to adjust his pants.
“Now, a question before we move on,” McMillan said, glancing around the classroom. “Name some examples of nanoparticles in everyday items. Household goods, if you can think of some.”
Brad knew the answer to this. Hell, he’d read up on it, seen it in stores.
What came out of his mouth was, “Cocks.”
McMillan froze. Brad’s face burned, and the students laughed.
“I mean, socks,” Brad said, fumbling over his words. “Silver nanoparticles to reduce odor.”
“Ah. That is one of the applications,” McMillan said, relaxing a little. His cheeks darkened though, and he looked away from Brad. “Anyone else?”
Someone else volunteered an answer, but it didn’t get a reaction out of McMillan like Brad’s answer had.
Brad’s chest puffed up at that.
McMillan returned
