Dale opened his mouth, on the verge of saying No means no. Except he wanted to say Yes, wanted to moan it into Greg’s ear, into his mouth, and he could think of a hundred reasons why he shouldn’t.
Greg took a step closer. His shirt stretched snug over his pecs, his jeans hugging his thighs, and there was a hard line at his groin. Dale wanted him inside, wanted Greg’s full lips on him, kissing his breath away.
He ached, and he still didn’t know why the hell Greg was here.
“Why me?” he asked, his breath catching. He regretted the question the moment it left his lips, because Greg could tell him anything now, then fuck him and leave. And never return.
“Because you’re different from the other profs,” Greg said, stepping closer.
Dale backed into the desk, his pants damp. But he couldn’t look away from Greg’s intense gaze.
“Because you don’t care about yourself,” Greg said. “The other profs talk about their research group and their grants and their achievements. You’ve got a ton of them too, but you’ve spent maybe five minutes talking about it all.”
“That’s not much of a reason,” Dale croaked.
Greg took another step forward so his basketball shoes touched Dale’s oxfords, and all Dale could smell was the musk rolling off his skin. “Because you want me. You’ve been looking at me like you’re thirsty, Professor. It’s in your eyes.”
A wave of heat swept through Dale’s face. Was he really different? He tried not to think about himself too much, so he didn’t know. But the one thing he knew was that he wanted Greg, and he hadn’t thought he’d be so painfully obvious. Greg was a student. And twenty years his junior.
When Dale didn’t answer, Greg took a step back, uncertainty flashing through his gaze. “Did I read you wrong? D’you... want me to leave?”
“No,” Dale blurted, his heart squeezing. “I mean. I—I have to grade your assignment. There’s that.”
Greg glanced down at his backpack like he’d just remembered it. He slid it off his shoulder, set it down on the floor. “You want the assignment now?”
No, Dale wanted Greg’s cock now. He couldn’t help looking down at the bulge in Greg’s jeans. It was hard for him, he realized. Greg wanted him. And Dale’s hole quivered in anticipation.
“You’re in heat,” Greg said.
Dale licked his lips. “It’s that obvious, huh?”
And Greg’s gaze coasted down Dale’s body again, hot and slow, like he was stripping Dale in his mind, pulling away his shirt and pants and shoes. Dale had never felt this naked in front of anyone, but him.
“You want my cock,” Greg said, his eyes glinting.
Heat flushed through Dale’s face. “I can’t answer that. I’m your professor.”
And a little smirk tugged on Greg’s lips, the one that made Dale’s stomach flip. “But you know the answer.”
Yes, Dale did.
They stared at each other, inches between them. Greg took a step closer. Then another, and he slid one foot between Dale’s feet, nudged his legs apart with his knee, his breath brushing over Dale’s clavicles. Dale’s slick trickled all the way to his calves.
Greg closed the distance between them, kissing Dale firmly on the lips, his mouth soft. Dale parted for him with a groan, his spine arching, pressing himself closer to Greg, his pants so tight he couldn’t think.
“You triggered my rut,” Greg whispered against his lips. Then he caught Dale’s hips, ground them together, and his cock pressed against the top of Dale’s thigh, a hard line through his pants.
“I—-I did?” Dale gasped, rocking back, wanting to touch this boy, this man. Greg, who had watched him for so long. For years, Dale hadn’t thought he could do anything for an alpha. Somehow, miraculously, he’d affected Greg, yanked a bodily reaction from him, and it was... amazing. Shocking. Dale ground against his cock, needing to see him. See how hard Greg was for him, see the cock he’d been jerking off to. He shouldn’t.
“In class,” Greg said, sliding his hand around Dale’s body, following the dip of his spine down to the small of his back. Then he cupped Dale’s ass, his fingers easing between Dale’s covered cheeks, right where he was damp. “Fuck. You’re so damn wet.”
“I’m older than you,” Dale hissed, rutting at Greg’s cock. “Twenty years.”
“I don’t care about age,” Greg muttered. He pushed his finger against Dale’s entrance, the smooth cotton of Dale’s briefs catching on his skin. Greg wanted to be inside. Dale’s breath punched out of him. “Want you, professor.”
“I’m not doing this with you if you keep calling me Professor,” Dale panted, squirming against the hot wall of Greg’s body. “My name is Dale.”
“Dale,” Greg murmured into his mouth, sliding his tongue in. Dale gasped.
Greg’s tongue slid against his, soft and probing, pushing into Dale’s mouth like he owned him. Dale leaked in his pants, needing more.
They hadn’t even done anything yet. Just kissed sloppily, Greg’s breath puffing hot on Dale’s skin. Greg’s biceps wrapped snug around him, sturdy and strong. For a moment, Dale forgot where he was, who he was. He knew only that he was omega, that he had an alpha hot for him, an alpha who wanted to fuck him through his heat.
His body ached, his slick soaking through his pants. Dale leaned back into his desk, spreading his legs, pushing his hips up. “Greg,” he whispered, touching Greg’s hip hesitantly. Greg didn’t move away. And Dale flattened his hands against Greg’s sides, smoothing down the muscles of his back, squeezing his firm ass. He was so damn young. And he wanted Dale.
Greg slid their cocks together hard, so pleasure shot up Dale’s spine. Dale arched, fingers digging into Greg, his body thrumming. He couldn’t think.
“Need—need you,” Dale gasped, shoving his hips at Greg.
Greg slipped his hand between them, slid it heavily over Dale’s cock, tip to base. It felt better than he’d imagined. Hotter. Heavier.
Greg tugged at Dale’s belt,
