3. Jules #3
“You’re—” Connor started, then stopped. His grip tightened, making Jules moaned.
“What?” Jules managed. “What am I?”
Connor didn’t answer with words. He kissed him instead, pouring into action what he chose to avoid speaking. The man was falling apart at the seams. There was no doubt about it.
Jules kissed back with everything he had, one hand gripping the collar of Connor’s shirt, the other braced on the desk as his hips moved into Connor’s fist.
The orgasm hit him like a wall. Jules broke the kiss to gasp against Connor’s jaw, his body locking and shaking through it while Connor’s hand continued to stoke him every second of the release. Jules kept his eyes open, watching the expression on Connor’s face -- fascination, hunger, confusion.
Jules slumped forward. His forehead dropped to Connor’s shoulder. For a moment, the only sounds were their breathing and the absurd normality of a world that kept turning outside this office while seismic events had just occurred inside it.
Connor stepped back first, of course. He moved to the small sink in the corner of the office and washed his hands. The noise of the water felt more like warning alerts than something he’d heard his whole life.
Jules watched his professor from the desk, still sitting with his jeans undone and his composure in ruins. A pleasant, post-orgasmic haze softened the edges of his vision enough to keep him from overthinking what they’d just done.
Connor dried his hands with a paper towel thoroughly, then dropped it in the trash.
When he turned back to Jules, his face was unreadable. The mask was back, rebuilt in the time it took to cross the room.
But Jules didn’t get upset at the change. He’d seen behind it. Had felt it crack open under his mouth. He’d heard the sounds Connor had tried to swallow and failed.
There was no unseeing that for either of them.
“This can’t happen again.” Connor’s attempt at coldness was ruined as his gaze remained on Jules’s still exposed length.
Not wanting to seem as if he were playing at keeping the man distracted, Jules tugged his zipper up and buttoned his jeans. Then he slid off the desk, taking a second to make sure his legs were solid beneath him.
They were. Mostly.
“You keep saying things like that,” Jules said. He picked up the pen that had fallen to the floor. Set it back on the desk. “And then you do the opposite.”
Connor didn’t deny it. He couldn’t. The room smelled of sex. He hadn’t washed that away like he had his hand.
Jules picked up his bag from the chair, throwing it over his shoulder. He could feel Connor watching him, so he took his time, letting the man look. No matter what his professor said, he’d enjoyed himself and, if Jules were to bet on it, wanted a repeat.
Before he left as asked, Jules did something he hadn’t planned.
He grabbed up the pen on the desk, along with the notepad beside it. He wrote his number down with the initial J beside it. Ten digits, clean and legible.
He set the paper on the desk, right in the center of the space. Connor wouldn’t be able to miss it.
Connor approached his desk, making sure he took a wide berth from where Jules stood. He stared at the number.
“It’s your move now, Professor.”
Jules left after issuing the challenge. He stepped into the hallway without looking back, because Connor hadn’t looked back at Veil and Jules understood now that the exit was part of the conversation. It was part of the game between them.
The corridor was empty now. Even the other professors must have called it a day. He was thankful no one would be there to see how disheveled he was. The aftermath of Connor Thorne was brutal.
Jules made it to the stairwell before he stopped. Leaning against the railing, he pressed both hands over his face and breathed deep.
His hands were shaking. The adrenaline rush, the teasing, the comedown. All of it had torn through him so quickly. Not being affected was impossible.
Thinking of Connor staring at his number made things even more dramatic. With the ball in his court, Jules had to wait for his professor to reach out.
Jules knew he would. Not because Connor wanted to.
Because Connor couldn’t resist the pull.
Jules straightened up, running a hand through his hair. As he started down the stairs, he felt like a brand-new person. Like he’d been taken apart and reassembled slightly differently.
His phone buzzed. For a second he wondered if Connor had already succumbed to need. The professor hadn’t come when Jules did. His cock had been hard. Jules knew as much from how it rubbed against his thighs. But there’d been no outward signs to show the other man had found relief.
He checked his cell. It was Davis.
Roomie: You forgot to get milk.
Jules laughed. It came out louder than he’d intended and bounced off the stairwell walls.
Jules: On it. Be home soon.
He pocketed the phone and walked out into the late afternoon grinning. While he didn’t get everything he’d come for, there’d been some progress.
Professor Connor Thorne would be his soon. It was only a matter of time.