The TA (Kingston College Book 1)

by Vivica Dorn

  “Well, good, at least I’m not the only one,” Michel huffed, leaning back into the sofa and finishing off his wine.

  “Indeed,” Lance replied, staring into the fireplace again. He looked suddenly pained, his grey eyes dark, and Michel’s sense of relief began to fade. Maybe aspiring to be like Lance wasn’t such a good idea. After all, would someone with their shit together, someone who was truly happy, be staring into those flickering flames with an expression of anguish so raw that Michel could practically see his heart breaking in his chest? Somehow, he didn’t think so.

  He had to fix things. The sudden certainty of it exploded in his body and his brain and left no room for opposition. He had to make things right with Sam, no matter how afraid he may have felt. I’m in love with you. The words pounded in him like an alarm, over and over again, stirring him to action. If he thought he was afraid, Sam must have been twice as scared. After all, Sam had actually been the one to say the words, to freely offer up his heart for Michel’s judgment and reaction. And Michel had just stared down at his shoes, swallowing the reciprocating sentence that he already knew, deep down, to be true. He leapt to his feet. Lance barely looked up, so absorbed was he in the fire and his dark and quiet pain.

  Michel thanked his silent friend for the drinks and quickly left, running from Lance as if fleeing from the ghost of his own future.

  The next day Michel felt far less sure of his plan. Or, he may have felt more sure if he actually had a plan. But he didn’t. All he had was a vague sense that he had to meet Sam, speak to him, tell him that he wasn’t alone in this, that Michel... loved him. He thought of the agony he had felt when Sam had left him in the pool that day after he had successfully swam the lap, thought about the hot, relieving ecstasy that had filled him when they had found their way back to each other on Halloween. He thought of the way, under Sam’s touch, he had totally come undone. And the way Sam had looked at him as if he meant absolutely everything. There was no denying it. He really was in love.

  His face burned at the thought. He didn’t understand why he was so embarrassed by his feelings. Maybe it was his lack of experience holding him back, or maybe it was because he had never expected to fall in love with a student, let alone another man. Whatever the reason, his awkwardness around the topic, his fear, had helped to lead them to this painful impasse. And he couldn’t bear it any longer.

  But Michel also didn’t think that he should try to approach Sam just yet. The student needed some time to cool off after their last conversation, and Michel had to prepare himself. Besides, he didn’t want to distract Sam right before his exams. The Politics and Governance exam was to be held on December 14. A few more weeks to get ready.

  And a few more weeks of anguish.

  CHAPTER 16

  Sam’s pen flew over the paper, words flowing out of him quickly and easily, constructing an organized, thoughtful essay in the blank space provided. Students in the large hall fidgeted around him, sitting at desks in evenly spaced rows, sighing and scribbling furiously as they worked on their own exams. The huge hall housed 400 students at least, from three different courses, writing their respective exams. Sam looked up at the clock on the wall. He still had 48 minutes left, and he was already close to completing the last essay question on his Politics and Governance exam.

  The exam had turned out to be easier than expected. Or, rather, he had been much more prepared than he thought he had been. All those sessions with Michel, and all that grim studying over the last month and a half, really had paid off.

  Michel. He hadn’t seen the TA since he had berated him in the athletic centre. He gripped his pen painfully as a vision of Michel staring down at his shoes, silently biting his lip, swam into focus in his mind. He shook his head, trying to turn his attention back to his paper and attempting to ignore the fact that he had been disappointed to see that Dr Adams, and not Michel, was proctoring their exam today.

  If Michel had been there today it wouldn’t have made a difference, anyway. It wasn’t like Sam could have approached him before the exam, and Michel likely would have ignored him if he’d seen him. Like Sam had basically ordered him to. Every time he thought back to their bitter conversation in the hall of the athletic centre, he was overcome with the sick sensation that he had played the situation all wrong. He should have just been grateful to see Michel, his aching heart be damned. He should have just taken whatever crumb Michel had offered, a lifeline in the dark, no matter how small. No matter how unfair.

  He sighed harshly, sending strands of his golden bangs fluttering from his forehead. After these 48 minutes (43 minutes now) he would no longer be Michel’s student. And they’d be free to pursue whatever kind of relationship they wanted. But what if it was only Sam who wanted? Grimacing, he darkly acknowledged that this had been his greatest fear – that ultimately, Michel would pull away from him, rejecting him utterly and completely. And without the excuse of their student/teacher relationship, it would simply mean that Michel really just didn’t feel the same way Sam did. And Sam didn’t know what he would do if that were the case. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for that outcome.

  I’ll wait a little longer, he thought, before I try to talk to him again. He felt that he needed to build up some kind of armour, to fortify himself against the beauty and the passion and the pain he was sure would accompany their next encounter. With a massive surge of will, he began writing again, and finished the exam with half an hour to spare.

  He hadn’t quite had time to build up that shield before, only two days later, he received a text from Michel. He stared at his screen for a moment, surprised that Michel was reaching out first, then clicked to open the message.

  I’m grading the exams now. You did very well. Très bien fait.

  Sam smiled softly. It was unusual for Michel to give that kind of praise. He was used to Michel being exacting and strict when it came to academics and he knew that Michel would die before he gave Sam any kind of preferential treatment. He really must have impressed the TA.

  Thanks, he texted back, unsure what to say next. He had never been so brutally uncool in a relationship. In the past he’d always known what to say, had always felt relaxed.

  The grades for the class won’t be posted until I’ve marked everyone’s exams, but if you wanted to meet, I could tell you your results in person.

  Sam’s heart throbbed. Was Michel using this as an excuse to see him? God, he hoped so. Optimism rose into his chest and throat, light and soft and melodious. Now that Michel had marked his exam, now that the course was done, maybe he had come to some kind of decision about the future of their relationship. Maybe he would let Sam into his world a little more. Sam was absolutely desperate for it. He couldn’t stand the on-and-off nature of this, the back and forth, the uncertainty, the ecstasy immediately followed by pain.

  A nagging voice at the back of his head chided him for his hope. He could be about to end things for good, the voice whispered poisonously. Sam set his jaw. Either way, he would get an answer. Tonight.

  Can I come over? Now?

  He half held his breath as he waited for a response. He didn’t have to wait long.

  Oui.

  When he reached Michel’s house he was surprised to see Lance outside, bringing a box of recycling to the curb. He narrowed his eyes.

  “What are you doing here?” He asked, feeling prickly and annoyed. Lance stared at him with that flat, dark gaze of his. No, flat wasn’t the right word. There was something shifting beneath the surface, shadowy and grey and strange. It set Sam dangerously on edge.

  “I live here,” Lance said simply. Sam felt his eyebrows shoot up. He had no idea that Michel’s downstairs neighbour was the fellow swimmer who had recently thrown him into a wall. Sam shifted from one foot to another, wondering if he should say anything else. Lance didn’t give him the chance before he spoke again.

  “I’d like to apologize for my behaviour on Halloween. I acted... irrationally. And I should have said something before now.�
� He spoke stiffly, as if apologizing were totally foreign to him. Sam shivered, feeling like he was watching a shark crawl out of the ocean and try to walk on the sand instead of swimming in the water. That really was the last thing he had expected to hear from his strange teammate. But, no matter how unexpected the words, and how uncomfortable Lance looked, Sam appreciated the gesture. Relaxing somewhat, he flashed an easy grin.

  “Thanks, man. That’s good to hear. See you in practice, yeah?”

  Lance gave a quick nod, then turned his back, moving around the side of the house to the entrance to his apartment. Sam didn’t waste time watching him walk away. Half second later, he was at Michel’s door and ringing the bell, and it was only another second more before Michel yanked the door open, cheeks flushed, mouth parted, eyes wide. His loveliness terrified Sam. He had never seen something so perfect.

  “Hey, Mi-” Sam couldn’t finish the words before Michel had wrapped his arms around his neck and crushed his mouth to Sam’s, standing on the tips of his toes. Sam stood still for a moment, hands locked at his sides, totally stunned. This was the first time Michel had ever initiated anything between them. And it almost sent Sam to his fucking knees.

  There was a messy sort of courage in the kiss, as if Michel were trying to push through some kind of timidness or fear by exerting extra force. If his lips weren’t being practically held hostage, Sam would have laughed at the innocent fury of the action. Michel made tiny, whimpering sounds, his hands roaming desperately over Sam’s shoulders and back, his chest pressed tightly into Sam’s. Sam groaned into the kiss. There was no way he’d be able to stand this much longer, to let Michel continue to take the lead like this. His hands found their way to Michel’s hips, then his ass, and he clutched at the smaller boy as he forced Michel’s mouth open savagely with his tongue. Michel moaned into his mouth.

  Without tearing his mouth from that of the boy he loved, he tightened his grip and yanked Michel upwards, picking him right up off the floor. Instinctively, Michel wrapped his slender thighs around Sam’s waist, and Sam’s breathing hitched as he felt Michel’s hardness press into his abdomen.

  He’s so prim and proper, but look at him now, such a fucking slut for me, jumping me as soon as I walk in the damn door, he thought headily, carrying Michel up the stairs to his apartment, kissing him all the way there. Sam fumbled with the door, clutching Michel to him with only one muscled arm, before they almost fell their way inside. Sam didn’t let Michel down yet, though. Not until they had moved all the way into Michel’s room. He laid Michel down onto the mattress tenderly, like he were a precious thing, then pressed the full ferocity of his hard body on top of him. Michel gasped, his mouth wet and panting, his wavy hair mussed, eyes glazed with desire. Sam pressed his throbbing cock against Michel’s pelvis. Then he stopped.

  Michel was opening and closing his mouth soundlessly, eyebrows furrowed. Sam brushed his thumb against Michel’s trembling lower lip, back and forth, fascinated by the fevered expression on Michel’s face. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he lowered his mouth to the beautiful boy’s again, but Michel cried out, “wait!”

  Sam pulled back, stomach dropping. Was Michel having a change of heart? Was he about to tell Sam to get out and never come back? Sam paused, jaw clenched, gaze hard as Michel took a steadying breath.

  “I have to tell you something,” Michel started, worrying at his lip with his teeth. Sam’s cock throbbed almost painfully. He wanted, needed, that soft red lip between his own teeth. He wrenched his gaze back to Michel’s eyes, sensing he was trying to say something important.

  “I was scared to say it before. I wasn’t sure how to put words to the feelings. Or, I maybe I was just to afraid to. But I’ve realized that I’m more afraid of losing you.”

  Sam froze, not even daring to breathe.

  “I’ve fallen in love with you. I love you. Against my better judgment.”

  Sam stared at that celestial face for what felt like an eternity, taking in every long eyelash, every glint of light on porcelain skin, every shivering sigh. This face was his. This boy was his.

  Cradling Michel’s jaw in his hands, his thumbs drawing small soft circles on Michel’s flushed cheeks, he whispered the phrase he had learned and committed to heart less than a month after they had first spoken.

  “Je t’aime. Je t’aime. Je t’aime.”

  Michel made a choked sound. He looked like he was about to cry. And it fucking broke something in Sam. He snarled like an animal, bringing his hungering mouth down against Michel’s white neck, sucking bruises into that flawless skin. Michel moaned and clutched at Sam’s shoulders.

  Sam wrenched Michel’s shirt off over his head. Sam hadn’t even taken off his winter jacket yet, but he did so now, throwing it to the floor, followed by his own T-shirt. His mouth working back and forth over Michel’s nipples, he undid the trembling boy’s belt and jeans, pulling them down, down, then totally off in one strong motion. Michel stared at him with dazed eyes.

  “You, too,” he whispered, gesturing at Sam’s jeans. So full of dark desire that he almost felt sinister, he finished undressing, standing at the side of the bed as Michel lay watching him. His thick red erection sprang forward and Michel gasped. Jesus Christ.

  Falling to his knees, Sam grabbed Michel’s hips and yanked him forward before sliding his large hands up the insides of Michel’s soft thighs and parting his twitching legs. He swallowed, head swimming at the sight: Michel, arching his back against the mattress, legs spread filthily, cock twitching and hot, pink hole pulsing. Sam growled, then his mouth moved down and inward, his tongue finding its way to that tight opening.

  Michel almost shrieked.

  “What are you doing, ah, that place, ah, ah!”

  Michel’s legs jerked and tightened at the sides of Sam’s head, trying to push him away. But Sam only licked and sucked harder, his grip turning to iron on Michel’s thighs, forcing those legs to fall open once again.

  “This, this is crazy,” Michel panted, his voice cracking with pleasure. His hole was starting to loosen and relax, and Sam pressed the tip of his tongue inside.

  “Putain, Dieu!” Michel’s hands scrabbled at Sam’s shoulders, his hips clenching and bucking.

  “I’m going to get you so fucking wet,” Sam said between licks, and Michel responded with an agonized groan. When his entrance was sufficiently slick and relaxed, Sam slipped a single finger inside, feeling his stomach clench as Michel tightened around him. Soon enough, he promised himself darkly, he was going to feel that same tightening around his cock. Steadying himself as best he could, trying not to rush, trying to do this right, he began to move his finger, exploring that deep and secret place.

  Michel was barking out tiny little cries, his head thrown totally back, white hands clutching at the bedspread. When Sam’s finger brushed a certain spot inside, Michel cried out, loud and uninhibited, and his cock noticeably strained. Sam froze, utterly fascinated, heat spreading in his cheeks and in his groin, and then he brushed that spot again experimentally. Michel reacted even more beautifully this time, gasping and tightening mercilessly against Sam’s finger, hips rolling. His prostate, Sam realized, mouth going dry. He had had anal sex with girlfriends in the past, and they had always seemed to enjoy it, but none of them had ever reacted like that. He inserted another finger. Then another, moving and scissoring them, as Michel clenched and moaned.

  “Fuck, I can’t take much more of this,” Sam half groaned, half whispered, his voice hoarse. “I need to be inside you.”

  Michel raised his chin and met Sam’s eyes. He looked feverish and shy, but he didn’t seem afraid. He nodded, and without a further word Sam shoved him further back on the bed, positioning himself on his knees between the TA’s strewn legs. He gripped Michel’s knees and forced them up to that pale and heaving chest before taking his aching cock in his hand and pressing it against Michel’s slick and waiting hole.

  Michel mewled, long and low, as Sam entered him with gritted teeth, breath his
sing. It was incredibly tight, and for a moment Sam worried that he hadn’t prepped Michel well enough. But when Michel reached for him, for his waist, for his hips, for his ass, pulling him further, pulling him deeper, he knew that Michel was not in pain. He waited for a moment as Michel clenched maddeningly around him before pulling out and then slamming back in, brushing against that deep and sensitive spot his fingers had found just moments ago. Michel’s eyes flew open, unseeing and wide, bright as fallen stars. Sam lost himself in that glorious flushed face, moving his hips slowly, calling on every store of strength he had not to lose control and destroy Michel like an animal. Michel was so gorgeous, so perfect, so goddamn fuckable, that it was incredibly difficult to maintain his composure. He placed a large tanned hand on Michel’s pale abdomen, his thumb circling the soft navel, his other hand stroking up and down Michel’s throbbing hardness as he thrusted.

  Michel locked his ankles around Sam’s waist. Sam’s breath caught in his throat and he leaned forward, gripping Michel’s wrists and forcing them above his head. Michel whimpered and moved his hips in time with Sam’s thrusts, arching up off the bed into Sam’s chest, as if his skin were seeking more and more contact with Sam’s own.

  Michel breathed raggedly into Sam’s ear, the hot breath sending electric shocks zinging down Sam’s spine, straight to his steel cock.

  “J’arrive, j’arrive,” Michel whispered.

  Sam buried his face in Michel’s neck, mouthing against his glistening skin.

  “Come for me. Come all over my cock, my baby.”

  With a strangled cry Michel tightened with ecstatic force around Sam’s erection and came, spurting hot and hard against Sam’s stomach. Sam didn’t stop moving, though, and drove himself in, over and over, riding the aftershocks of Michel’s extraordinary orgasm. He could feel himself getting close, too.

  “Hey, Michel, say it again,” he panted, his thrusts getting faster and losing their rhythm, becoming primal and chaotic.