The Ties That Bind

by J. L. Langley, Jet Mykles, Jet Mykles

  "Excuse me. I didn't..."

  His words were cut off as strong arms closed around him and he was pulled against a lean body. He barely had time to register the identity of his assailant before lips claimed his in a fierce kiss.

  Dylan.

  On a sigh, Val's lips parted, Dylan's tongue sliding in to tease his.

  Mmm, so good.

  Val allowed himself to linger a minute before he broke the kiss. But when Dylan didn't release him he pushed at the other man's chest.

  "Dylan, let me go. We can't make out in the library."

  "Why not?” Rather than letting go, Dylan walked him backward, deeper into the stacks. Val's back was pushed against the shelf he'd been perusing only moments before. Pressing in against him, Dylan took his mouth again. This time the kiss was slow and soft, the kind of kiss that made Val's insides go all hot and gooey, the kind of kiss that made his dick hard, the kind that was uniquely Dylan's.

  "We have to stop.” Val shoved at Dylan.

  "Don't want to stop.” Hands slid under Val's shirt. “Mmm, you're wearing your present. Good boy.” Fingers traced his ribs. “Do you like it? Does it make you feel sexy?"

  Val's breath caught. The heat from Dylan's palms seared him right through the leather. “Yes.” He licked his lips. “Yes, it does."

  "And does it make you hard, my little Valentine? Is your dick hard for me right now?"

  "Yes,” Val breathed, “so hard for you right now."

  "Show me."

  "Not here."

  "Yes, here.” Val's nipple was pinched.

  His cock jerked. “Ow. Stop that."

  "You don't mean that.” Dylan pinched the other nipple. His thigh slipped between Val's legs.

  "I do mean it. I have work to do. I can't fool around. I shouldn't even have worn this...” Val stopped, his cheeks going hot.

  "It's called a corset, Valentine.” Dylan nipped Val's lower lip. “C'mon, say it with me. Cor-set."

  "Shhh. Be quiet. Somebody will hear."

  "Yeah? Like who? Nobody ever hangs out back here except you classics majors."

  "I don't know. Somebody might come.” Almost against his will, Val rubbed against Dylan's thigh.

  "If we're lucky, somebody'll come.” Dylan pressed his leg up against Val's crotch. “Mmm, you are hard for me.” Reaching down, he gave Val's prick a squeeze.

  Val groaned. His head fell back and bonked against the shelf. “C'mon, man. I really do have work to do. I have this translation due tomorrow and it's not even close to being done."

  "Latin or Greek?"

  "Greek.” Val rocked against Dylan's leg. “God, you're making me so horny."

  "Where's your stuff?"

  Val's jaw dropped.

  "Not that kind of stuff.” Dylan laughed. “I meant your books and stuff, Valentine. Geeze, is sex all you ever think about?"

  Val grinned. “Over there in the study cube.” Dylan stepped back and held out his hand. Val took it. “You can't stay, though. You'll distract me."

  He led Dylan over to the study cubicle where his books, papers and laptop were set up. Leaning over, Dylan frowned down at the page. “Homer. Cool."

  "You can read Greek? I thought you weren't a classics major. Why are you taking Greek?"

  And how had Dylan known that was Homer just from those few lines? Had he told Dylan that's what he was translating? The man got him so turned around he very well might have and just forgot.

  Dylan didn't answer. Hooking the single chair with one booted foot, he pulled it out and pointed. “Sit. Work. I won't bug you."

  Val sat. “What are you going to do?"

  "Watch you.” He leaned back against the cubicle wall and crossed his arms over his chest.

  "You're just going to stand there and watch me translate Greek? Don't you have anything better to do?"

  "Nope. Go on. I promise I'll be good.” The look he sent from under his lashes spoke of anything but goodness.

  Val dropped his head to the desk and thumped it once, then again. Dylan was going to be the death of him. But what a way to go.

  Aeolus entertained me for a whole month, asking me questions all the time about Troy, the Argive fleet, and the return of the Achaeans.

  Val read the line again, then the entire passage, changed the order of two words and erased half of what he'd written.

  "No wonder I'm bombing Greek.” Totally disgusted with himself, he threw down his pencil.

  "You aren't bombing Greek.” Dylan leaned over Val's shoulder and read what he'd just written. “What are you pulling, like an A minus?"

  "No.” He was pulling a B, but he didn't have to say so.

  Dylan picked up his pencil and wrote something in his notebook.

  "Hey, man, that's my homework. What are you doing?"

  "I'm helping.” Dylan kept writing, but when Val tried to look, he nudged him away. After several minutes, Dylan put down the pencil and slid Val's notebook under his nose.

  Val read what Dylan had just written, then he read it again. He had crossed out several of Val's phrases, rearranged others and rewritten one entire line. His changes were not only correct, but they made more sense and flowed more smoothly than the lines Val had agonized over.

  Val met Dylan's gaze. “How the fuck did you do that?"

  "Do what?” Dylan blinked. “I didn't do anything."

  "Bullshit. You just fixed my translation so it makes more sense, and you did it without a dictionary or anything. How did you do that?"

  His answer was a shrug. “I just tweaked what you had. You're the one who did the work.” He picked up the Greek text and flipped pages. “How much of this do you have to do for tomorrow?"

  "Mac said to do as much as I could."

  "This is for one of MacDonnough's classes?"

  "It's an independent study. Mac's working on a translation of Homer and I'm assisting him. For credit."

  Dylan's lips thinned briefly then he shook his head. “Okay, let's do some more. Another couple pages should do."

  "You can't just do my homework for me.” He didn't bother to ask again how Dylan had even managed to do as much as he had. Clearly, he wasn't getting an answer.

  "I'm not doing it for you. I'm just helping."

  "Why?"

  "So you'll be grateful.” Dylan smiled. “You will be grateful, won't you?"

  Val lowered his lashes. “How grateful do you want me to be?"

  "Grateful enough that you'll let me suck your cock."

  The suggestion went straight to Val's prick. He swallowed. “I don't ... You want to suck my cock?"

  "Unless you have your heart set on sucking mine.” He leaned down close. His breath fanned over Val's lips. “But I really, really want to taste you. I'll bet you taste sweet."

  He should back away and not let Dylan distract him. He really should. He had a ton of work to do. Work that wouldn't get done if he let himself drown in those merman eyes.

  Instead of backing away, Val leaned forward and brought their lips together. He drank in Dylan's sigh and returned one of his own. Long fingers slid into his hair and angled his head so the kiss could go deep.

  Soft lips teased his, teeth nipping, tongue sliding in to taste and explore. Dylan took his time, fucking Val's mouth with his tongue, drawing little breathy moans from him until Val could do nothing but let Dylan have his way.

  Sliding Val's chair back, Dylan nudged his thighs apart and stepped between them.

  "What are you doing?” Val tried to get to his feet but Dylan pushed him back.

  "Sit and be quiet or someone will hear.” He sank to his knees and dropped a wink. “People are trying to study, you know?"

  "You can't.” Aware that his voice had gotten much too loud, Val shut his mouth. Dylan wouldn't stop anyway, and truthfully, though he would never admit it out loud, Dylan's brand of public affection was thrilling beyond anything Val had ever imagined.

  Scooting backward under the desk, Dylan rolled Val's chair in close. “Put your hands o
n the desk, baby. And don't move or I'll stop. Understand?"

  Val nodded.

  "Good boy.” Dylan buried his face against Val's crotch, nuzzling his prick through his jeans. Green eyes rolled up to meet his. “Gonna make you come so hard you'll see stars."

  Oh God.

  Val strained his ears, listening for approaching footsteps. But the library remained quiet. Thank God. If anyone did walk by they would surely hear his thundering heartbeat.

  Nudging his thighs farther apart, Dylan settled into the intimate vee of Val's thighs. Strong hands slid up his legs, fingers kneading his muscles. Dylan mouthed Val's erection through his jeans as he drew the zipper down inch by agonizing inch. Fingers slid between denim and flesh, wrapped around his prick and drew it out.

  The walls of the cubicle pressed in close on both sides, the back of the chair high enough that anyone passing by would have trouble seeing the surface of the desk let alone the action underneath.

  Warm breath ghosted over his cock. A drop of moisture welled from the slit and was quickly licked away.

  Val squirmed, inching his ass closer to the edge of the chair.

  "Don't move, Valentine, or I'll stop.” Dylan's voice was low, pitched for Val's ears alone.

  Shutting his eyes, Val flattened his palms on the desk and forced himself to be still. Sitting there with his cock exposed and Dylan kneeling between his legs, he wanted nothing more than to shoot his load in that hot, silky mouth. Wanted to feel his lover drink him down then watch as he licked him clean.

  In one smooth motion Dylan gulped him to the root. Val's eyes rolled back and he stifled a cry as Dylan's throat constricted around the head. Teeth scraped his shaft. A tongue teased his slit. Val's hips jerked and Dylan's hands tightened on his thighs. Be still, the move said, and Val struggled to obey.

  Dylan's head bobbed as he set up a rhythm, laving with his tongue, teasing with his teeth, sucking hard, calling the orgasm up from Val's balls.

  On the desk Val's hands curled into fists. He gripped his pencil hard as he fought to stay still. Biting the inside of his cheek, he panted through his nose. If he dared to open his mouth he would moan for sure.

  With each glorious suck his thigh muscles tensed and need coiled tighter in his belly. God, how he wanted to fuck that beautiful face. Fist his hand in that glossy hair and come in that luscious mouth.

  "Close,” Val whispered.

  Dylan doubled his efforts, licking and sucking like he was starving and Val's cock was the best thing he'd ever tasted.

  Val squeezed his hands tighter and tighter until his nails bit into his palms. Blood pounded in his ears, his dick swelled and throbbed against Dylan's tongue as the orgasm exploded up from his sack and out his prick. The pencil snapped in two in his hand, the sound as loud as a gunshot.

  * * * *

  "Your translations are really improving, Val.” Mac's desk chair creaked as he sat back. A smile curved his lips and crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Your progress this semester is very impressive."

  They were seated in Mac's office, just the two of them. The morning sun poured through the window behind Mac's head, bathing everything in a clear golden light.

  "Thank you.” Val grinned, recalling how Dylan had “helped” him with his homework.

  After the blowjob of a lifetime, they moved from the cubicle to one of the large tables. Dylan had located an online copy of the very translation Val couldn't find on the shelves then sat with him while he worked, tweaking and refining Val's assignment until late into the night. But when Val invited him home, Dylan shook his head and muttered something about having his own stuff to get done. Then he'd dropped a light kiss on Val's lips and left the library.

  "Val?"

  "Hmm?” Shit, Mac was talking to him. Val's cheeks heated. “Sorry, Mac. I was just thinking."

  "Oh? Care to share?"

  Not really.

  "I was thinking about the translation."

  It wasn't a total lie.

  Mac nodded as if this made perfect sense and was just what he'd expected. “I asked if you found the Butler translation helpful.” He glanced down at the pages on his desk. “It certainly seems so, judging from the quality of your work."

  "Very helpful.” He ignored the prickle of guilt at not telling his mentor about his special tutor. Not the details, of course, but that he was getting outside help. But even if he'd wanted to tell Mac, which he didn't, how could he explain Dylan's facility with Greek when he couldn't even reason it out for himself?

  As they sat together working, he had tried once again to quiz Dylan about his life—where he came from, what high school he'd gone to, did he have any brothers or sisters? But all he got were the same noncommittal answers and evasions as before. Just when he'd begun to feel like a total pain in the ass, Dylan had told him he'd transferred from a small liberal arts college called Olympia State where he had indeed been a classical studies major. So that explained at least a little.

  "I'm going to hold on to these pages, if that's all right.” Mac tapped the edges of the papers together and slipped them back in the folder. “You do have another copy, don't you?"

  "I do.” He had the copy with Dylan's notes scribbled all over it. He'd kept it, liking the way the bold loopy scrawl looked next to his own small, tight script.

  Mac opened his desk drawer and slid the folder inside. Folding his arms, he leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk blotter, blue eyes keen on Val's face.

  "I'd like to put aside our usual discussion of Homer for a few minutes. I have something else I want to discuss with you."

  Val glanced from Mac's face down to his own text, already open on his lap, then back. “Is something wrong?"

  "No, no, it's nothing bad. It's ... well, it's rather good, at least I think it is."

  Despite Mac's assurance, apprehension slid through Val and coiled itself tight in his belly. He closed his book, giving his teacher and friend his full attention.

  "In June, I'm going to be leaving for Greece. It's a sort of combined sabbatical and research trip. I expect to be there for three months, returning in time to teach again in the fall. I find myself with a need, and a moderate budget, for engaging a research assistant and I was hoping you would consider the position."

  Val opened his mouth but no words came out. He swallowed and licked his lips. Mac was asking him to go to Greece for the summer as his assistant. It was almost too good to be real. So why did the sensation in his gut feel more like dread than elation?

  Mac lifted a hand. “You don't have to answer right now. I know it must be something of a surprise.” He smiled. “I must confess, I've known for a couple of weeks that I was going to ask you. I was just waiting for the right time."

  "Why me?"

  "Why not you?” The chair squeaked as Mac leaned back. “You're the perfect choice, Val. You're a graduating senior. Your work ethic is unquestionable. Your interest in the classics closely mirrors my own. And you are my best and brightest student in years."

  This brand of unvarnished praise, coming from a man he liked and respected, should have had him dancing in the street. And he did feel a warm glow of pride at Mac's high opinion of him. Add to that the fact that ever since high school, when he'd first fallen in love with classical literature, he'd harbored a secret desire to go to Greece. He should be jumping at this opportunity.

  But if he said yes and accepted Mac's offer and went to Greece for the summer, what would happen to his relationship with Dylan? A week ago the question would not even have occurred to him. A week ago he hadn't even known Dylan. And now? What was so different now that it should cause him to hesitate to accept Mac's generous and flattering offer?

  "Val? Are you all right?"

  Val jerked himself back to the conversation at hand. “I'm fine. I'm just ... I don't know what to say."

  "As I said, you don't have to answer me today. Take some time, perhaps talk it over with someone whose opinion you trust. Then you can let me know."

 
; Val nodded. The trouble with that suggestion was that Mac was the person whose opinion Val most trusted. Briefly, he let himself imagine that discussion.

  Yeah, so Mac, there's this beautiful man I've been fucking for the last week or so. I don't know much about him but I think I might be just the tiniest bit addicted to him because I can't get him out of my head. And now I'm thinking about not going to Greece because I don't want to leave him.

  Yeah, that would be good.

  "So, I suppose we should spend just a little time with Homer.” Mac opened his text.

  Val did likewise, but after only a few minutes spent with Odysseus on his ship, Mac returned to the subject of Greece.

  "I don't think I mentioned that if you decide to take the position, you'll be paid a small stipend for living expenses. It won't be much. Of course, you won't need much, I shouldn't think. We'll be staying in a small villa just outside Athens.” Mac's cheeks colored just a little. “I mean ... well, it's a two bedroom house that belongs to a colleague, a man I've known for years and who is spending the summer in London. I'll be working a good deal of the time, completing my translation, and you would, of course, be expected to assist me with that. But we would certainly have ample time for leisure activities, seeing the sites and so on.” He paused. “Not that I'm trying to unduly influence your decision."

  Val said nothing.

  A villa. Just outside Athens. The Acropolis. The Parthenon. Hadrian's Arch. And the monastery at Kaisariani.

  God.

  For the rest of the hour Val heard little else that Mac said, too caught up in his own thoughts.

  At last, Mac looked at the clock on his desk, the way he always did, and said, “Well, it seems our time together is at an end.” Pushing back his chair, he stood up and rounded the desk.

  With a sense of relief that far out-stripped the situation, Val stuffed his belongings into his backpack, stood up and slung it over his shoulder.

  Mac walked him to the door, then paused with his hand on the doorknob. “I meant what I said about not wanting to unduly influence your decision. But I do hope you'll accept the position."

  "I'll give it very serious consideration.” God, why was he suddenly sounding like a stiff-necked old fart?