With both a sense of dread and desire, I brace myself for the barrage of heat and emotion that is going to hit me the moment I look into his angular, freckled-face, and hazel eyes. A face that probably gets a thousand likes every time he posts a selfie on Instagram.
Eyes that I’ve seen half-lidded with desire and wide open in pleasure as he’s climaxed in my mouth.
I swallow down the need that bellows low in my groin and tip my glasses off my nose to rub away the ache at my temples.
“Hello again, Professor.”
Kyler’s voice is velvety soft, like the lick of honey off a teaspoon. Fuck, I like the sound of that coming from his mouth.
I realize I’m staring at him, my nerves stretched tight and ready to snap at the slightest provocation. Just like the pencil in my curled fingers. I slide my glasses up my forehead to rest on top of my head as I lift my chin toward the chair and gesture with the flip of my palm in front of me.
“Come in, Kyler. Take a seat.”
He gives an uneasy glance behind him, as if he were walking into the lion’s den instead of my office, and then steps across the threshold, letting his backpack sag down his arm to hit the floor as he takes the chair offered.
Despite my earlier pep talk, this proves to be more difficult than I imagined. It’s awkward and uncomfortable. Calling upon my advantage as the older and wiser of the two of us, having at least seven years on him, I decide to get everything out on the proverbial table.
“Listen, Kyler. This is weird and a strange twist of fate. But what we did together this summer needs to remain in the past so we can move forward without any discomfort. For the record, I’ve never had any type of relationship with a student before.” I emphasize this as I stare down my nose at with and narrow my eyes, to which he lifts a skeptical brow.
“Really? Never?" He asks incredulously as if that's so hard to believe. "Not even a quick blowie under the desk?”
I choke out a cough, trying to erase the image of Kyler on his knees under my desk, his mouth and hand wrapped around my pulsing cock. It’s no use though because my dick has already seen that graphic depiction and there’s no going back.
I discreetly adjust my half-mass erection with my hand.
“Never. And it won’t happen, either. I pride myself on being the type of educator who doesn’t abuse privileges or the trust of my students. I don’t aim to be a scandal-making professor that has rumors and gossip spreading around about his Lothario dalliances.”
Kyler meets my glance briefly and grins a sexy smirk. “Lothario dalliances? You’re so old-fashioned.”
I want to laugh, but level him with my insistent gaze instead. “My point is that whatever happened between us this summer – while fucking fantastic – won’t happen again. Ever. Period. We must erase it from our memories.”
Fat chance of that happening for me, at least. Before I knew he was my student, I was willing to do anything to get another taste of Kyler. One more chance to see if it really was as spectacular as I remembered it.
But all that chemistry has to remain in the past. There’s no time for dwelling on it because Kyler Scott is now my student and I am his teacher. End of fucking story.
As if finally grasping the sincerity of my pledge and urgency in my tone, his agreement is swift, signaled with a curt nod of his head.
“Good. I like things uncomplicated.”
I mutter under my breath as I dig through my stack of paperwork. “Kid, you are anything but uncomplicated.”
Once we set the ground rules, we got down to the business of his independent special fields course outline. In his undergrad program, Kyler chose to develop his own course of interest, in lieu of other classes in his program’s curriculum. Because it was the first day, his task was to initiate the dialogue of the direction and focus and what he believed the end goal of his studies would procure.
Kyler nibbles unconsciously on his bottom lip, his eyes cast downward at the notebook in his lap, as he considers the question I posed about his outline proposal.
“I guess I’ve been thinking a lot about the theoretical perspectives on gender and sexuality in art.”
“That’s an excellent topic. I think you’ll find a plethora of scholarly articles and books on the subject matter. How do you think you’ll distinguish your perspective from what’s already been written?”
I lean back in my chair in a reflective position, giving him some time to ruminate over his position. This special fields course and the work that it entails is a far cry from reading some textbook and answering a few questions on a final exam. It’s meant to be thought provoking and aimed at combining historical, critical, and theoretical perspectives for the student to narrow down their thesis.
While he taps at his laptop keyboard, I can’t help but admire Kyler’s physical beauty and the way his uncertainty in this moment transforms him from overly-confident twenty-two-year old college student to an insecure fourteen-year-old kid, worried that he’ll do or say something wrong.
And that goddamn lip biting is about to drive me crazy because it draws my attention directly to his full mouth. The mouth I have been very acquainted with and wanted seconds of for months.
“Professor?”
Kyler’s voice jerks me out of my perverse reverie, driving my eyes up to meet his inquisitive gaze.
“I’m sorry. Say that again?”
His face flushes a bit, which is something I haven’t seen him do before, and a hint of a smile forms around the corner of his mouth. This lifts his entire face, which only emphasizes the freckles on his pronounced cheekbones even further.
“Well, like you said, Professor, there are many books and articles on the male and female gender in art, but I want to pay homage to the gayness of art.”
I choke out a cough and lean forward, thrown by how cavalier he is with this revelation.
“Excuse me? Is that a thing?”
Kyler’s laugh is milk and honey and warm kisses floating on a breeze. How utterly poetic I am.
He’s too young. Too pretty. Too much my student.
I keep reminding myself of those three complications as I listen to him expound on his ideas with an almost timorous smile. Because he’s not only beautiful, but Kyler is bright and speaks with excitement over his chosen topic of study. Which, I’ll admit, turns me on more than his pretty looks.
“Yes, it is,” Kyler continues, a note of anticipation in his voice. “You see, art has impacted history, cultures, and civilizations throughout time, and gender and sexuality are at the center of it all creating the framework in which we derive art. But there’s so much more to that, you know? Over the years, as the LGBTQ and queer people began to openly share their sexuality and represent it in their arts – the forms of art in music, or writing, or visual and structural arts, there’s been a shift in how we ‘see’ art. I want to peel the layers back and identify how art speaks to audiences and whether that queer label changes the significance of the piece.”
He takes a breath, inhaling and exhaling as his chest expands and deflates underneath the blue cotton T-shirt and gray jean jacket he wears, his expression hungry for my approval.
When I meet his eyes, I give him an encouraging smile, nodding thoughtfully at his explanation and obviously thorough thought process.