Twenty minutes before the end of class, he started on the questions from the graded assignment.
A hand waved in the air. Greg.
Dale’s stomach flipped. Gods, what did he want?
For a second, Dale thought about ignoring him. If he turned around and explained five questions, Greg would give up and put his hand down.
Except the other students would start to notice his waving, and they might still remember it when they filled in their end-of-semester survey. Dale wanted his tenure. He couldn’t let his unease stop him from answering a question. “Yes, Greg?”
“You didn’t grade my assignment.” Greg’s eyes met his, black and steady, and Dale couldn’t look away.
He barely knew this boy. Greg had stepped up to his podium multiple times through half the semester, asking questions about the lectures. He was bright, he read the textbooks ahead of the classes, and he noticed little things, like Dale’s shoelaces about to unravel, or the shirts Dale had forgotten to iron, or the splotch of red ink on Dale’s cheek that he’d worn through multiple classes.
If Dale had turned down all his invitations for coffee, well. That was only appropriate.
Except there was this assignment. Dale had forgotten to grade it. And now the entire class was staring at Dale, waiting for him to say something and move on. He gulped.
“I’ll grade it after class,” he said, heat creeping up his neck. “Could you hang on to it for now?”
“I’ll come by your office,” Greg said.
“Sure,” Dale said, because he didn’t think he had another choice. Except Greg in his office was something he’d been trying to avoid all semester. Because it would be just the two of them, and he wanted Greg’s scent on him, wanted Greg closer.
Blood surged down his body. His pants were tight, and Dale couldn’t turn around to face the class at all. They’d see the outline of his cock. Greg would see, and he couldn’t let Greg find out how much he needed him.
He spoke over his shoulder, raising his voice to compensate for the bad angle. Dale tried to focus on question after question of semiconducting solids, the intricacies of electrons and band gaps, and everything he said was something he’d memorized from long ago. He couldn’t think about anything but the pressure between his legs.
By the time he got to the last question, he was sweating a little, his skin damp, his throat dry. He probably smelled like hormones, and everyone probably knew he was in heat. And he didn’t have an alpha’s scent on him. How embarrassing.
He couldn’t meet Greg’s eyes at all.
Dale said, “That’s all for today. Feel free to email me if you have any questions. I won’t be in my office this afternoon, but you can come by tomorrow.”
He scooped up all the loose sheets on his desk, feeling the prickle of Greg’s eyes on him, hot and hungry. His heat throbbed through his limbs, intensifying the ache in his body. He needed to hide away. Needed Greg pressing up against him, inside him.
Dale swept out of the classroom, thinking about the horrendous amount of musk he must’ve left behind, his cheeks scorching. Hopefully, he’d score okay on the student survey this time. Hopefully, he hadn’t blown his chances of tenure into smithereens. Working as a professor had been a childhood dream.
With how early he’d ended the class, the hallways were almost empty. Dale strode past the cream-colored walls, needing to hide his face until his students forgot he existed.
Which professor was afraid of his students? Which professor dreamed of his student in bed with him?
Halfway back to his office, Greg said behind him, “Professor.”
Dale’s heart crashed into his ribs, and his cock was so hard he was surprised the zipper held. He slid his papers in front of his hips, and kept walking.
“Professor!”
Dale walked faster. Who was he kidding, trying to flee? Except he tried anyway, weaving down the hallways and up the stairs, until he reached his office.
Three steps from his office door, Greg closed the distance between them, grabbing his arm.
“Professor,” he said, turning Dale to face him.
Greg smelled like musk, like arousal, and his eyes bore right into Dale’s. Then his gaze dragged down, past Dale’s throat to his chest, to his belly. Dale hadn’t realized that Greg had pulled his papers away from his hips, leaving the hard line in his pants painfully obvious. Greg licked his lips, as though he imagined tasting Dale.
Dale’s throat went completely dry.
“What?” he gasped, painfully aware of the scents they were leaving in the hallway. A mix of aspen and musk, and his own hibiscus scent. “I need to—to get in my office first. Please.”
Greg released him. Dale pulled his key from his pocket, his hand shaking with how much he needed. He unlocked the door. Shoved it open. He was three steps into the little room when Greg walked in behind him and turned the lock.
The sound rang through the room like a deadbolt sliding home.
Dale leaked in his pants, leaked down his thighs, and he didn’t know how he could refuse Greg right now. His body said, Climb him. Take his cock. Fuck him.
“Your alpha isn’t taking care of you,” Greg said from somewhere behind.
Dale dropped his papers on his desk, not caring that they scattered across its surface, fluttering onto the floor. “M-my alpha. Uh.”
Behind him, Greg’s nostrils flared. His gaze darted over Dale’s desk, over his photo frames, the various pictures of Dale and his students over the years. “June’s not your alpha?” he asked, his eyes widening, as though he was realizing this for the first time.
Dale hesitated. More and more frequently, June had been lending Dale her scent—because Dale didn’t know how to deal with Greg’s interest, because he was trying to find excuses not to sleep with Greg. Because his own self-control barely existed at all.
“It’s not information you’re entitled to,” Dale said, gulping.
“But you’re not going out with anyone.” Greg studied him, his gaze drifting to Dale’s throat
