by Willa Okati
When he heard the click-whirr of an instant camera, though, Quinn jumped violently and turned around. “Billy!”
Standing naked behind the lens, Billy laughed. He took another picture. “Take it easy, babe. Just wanted one for the memories. This is prime jerk-off material.”
Quinn’s cheeks burned. “Billy…please. Don’t.” His heart pounded in his throat. “Put the camera down.”
“Aw, come on. Turn that ass this way.” Billy mugged for Quinn, angling back and forth. He turned the camera down to his own groin and shot a picture. He tossed it aside into a growing pile of snapshots. “I want to remember you like this.”
“You won’t need pictures.” Quinn licked dry lips. “You’ll have me around to fuck as much as you want.” For as long as this lasts… No. No. Think about that later. “Come back to bed. Please.”
Billy shot one more picture, probably out of pure cussedness, then set the camera down.
“Billy—don’t.” Quinn wanted to curl up and die from embarrassment. And pictorial proof…if he ever…one day…if Billy…
He wouldn’t let himself think about it.
“Hey, easy, it’s not a big deal. I’ll burn them after we’re done here. I was just playing around.”
“You’ll give me your word on that?” Quinn dared to ask.
“My hand to God. Okay, you. Assume the position.” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “I’m coming in for a landing.”
“Hurry,” Quinn breathed. He relaxed a little in relief as he felt Billy climbing back on the bed, then tensed again as he felt those slippery fingers playing at his hole. Billy pushed Quinn’s hips down a little, adjusting him just so, and then Quinn felt the blunt pressure of Billy’s cock against his entrance.
“Yes,” Quinn whispered as Billy echoed, “Yes.”
His first stroke was bold, no playing around. Quinn cried out at the suddenness of the invasion, tensed up until it truly hurt, then forced himself to relax. Billy was rubbing at his back, making soothing noises. “It’s okay, Quinn. Ease up.”
Quinn let himself breathe for a moment, then nodded. “Go on.”
“Slower this time.” Billy drew back, the drag of his cock exiting exciting Quinn more than he might have thought possible. “Maybe a different angle…” Billy shifted, and thrust slowly back in.
This time, when Quinn let loose with a yelp, it was one of pure pleasure. Billy had homed in on his sweet spot again, and once it had been found, Billy wouldn’t miss again. Billy grunted in satisfaction, and pushed carefully back inside.
I can do this. I want this. God, how I want this. Quinn deliberately relaxed all his muscles, opening the path for Billy’s cock. Billy made another noise, one Quinn hoped was gratified surprise, and drew back, rubbing over that delicious point inside Quinn’s ass. His next thrust was quicker, and his withdrawal speedy. Quinn closed his eyes, giving himself over to the ecstasy.
His lids flew back open when he felt a still-slippery hand reach underneath to grasp his cock. “Billy?”
“Shh. Gonna make you feel good.”
And Billy did. Thrusting in time with his pulls on Quinn’s cock, he set up a rhythm that soon had Quinn melting into a mess that tensed and loosed in turn, squeezing his body in a vise of pleasure. The feel of Billy’s hand…he couldn’t hold out for long. Especially when Billy paused at the end of each pump to play with the head of his cock, flicking a thumbnail across the slit.
When he came, it was with a gasp of surprise and bliss. Come spattered down in heavy drops, covering Billy’s hand and creating a vast wet spot on the sheets. “Oh, yeah,” Billy panted. “God, so hot. So fucking hot. Quinn, God, you move like that and I’ll—I’ll—”
Quinn bore down, pressing hard with his muscles. It was involuntary, but felt so very good. The iron rod in his ass jerked hard, and Billy burst out with a string of curses that should have turned the air blue. Even though there was a condom in the way, Quinn felt the blasts of semen, their heat and weight both filling the latex.
Billy slumped briefly over Quinn’s back. “Damn. What do you do for an encore?”
Quinn laughed raggedly, unable to form any other words. He would have collapsed, but he didn’t want to cause Billy any pain or lie in his own wet spot. “Don’t need an encore,” he answered honestly. “Just you…”
Billy was quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he replied gruffly. “Just you.” He withdrew, then, with his usual speed of motion, jerked Quinn down to lie in his arms, spooned up against his stomach.
They’d have to get rid of the condom in a minute, but for the time being, Quinn savored the feeling of being held tightly. As if he mattered. As if he was cherished. It couldn’t go on forever—no, no, think about that later—but he loved this. Every bit of it, from Billy’s breath tickling the back of his neck, to the sweaty chest pressed against his back, to the long leg wrapping over his own.
“This feels right,” he surprised himself by whispering. “You and I.”
“Mmm.” Billy held Quinn tighter. “That’s because it is. Now shut up and enjoy the afterglow.”
Quinn obeyed, pushing away every doubt and fear, letting himself surrender to the glow of orgasm. He felt lighter than air, as if he were flying—and he never wanted to come back down to earth. Billy was his only anchor, but he could soar while in the man’s arms.
He felt…free.
“So,” he murmured, feeling playful, “what do we do next? We have all Saturday, after all.”
Billy groaned and slapped his hip. “Right now, this is fine. God, Quinn. I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad Bitch-lissa came into town. Otherwise, you might still be in that other room and I’d still be dreaming.” His arms tightened. “Reality’s better.”
Quinn sighed in agreement. This small pocket of reality was better than anything he’d known in years.
He’d cherish it for as long as he possibly could. And then…well, he’d cope with what life threw at him next. In the meantime, he’d work on pleasing Billy as best as possible.
He could do that. He was sure of it. And he would.
Chapter Eleven
“…the question of homosexuality?”
Quinn flinched. He adjusted his position on the high stool behind his teaching lectern and wished he had a pair of glasses to take off and polish. Something—anything—to do with his hands besides lace them loosely together like a fool as the young student standing before him waited. He didn’t quite dare look back at the boy’s face. He was far too eager and impressionable. One wrong word could send him spiraling down the wrong path.
Quinn knew this to be true. Hadn’t his own life been altered by the smallest of things?
And the largest, his inner Billy boasted. Quinn smiled despite himself.
“Dr. Whiteside?” the student asked tentatively. “Is something funny?” He fidgeted. “I mean, I know this is a lot to ask, but I figured you would be the best person to come to.”
Quinn coughed. “Yes, well…I’m not sure that asking me is the wisest thing to do. You might be better off researching this on the Internet, or asking Dr. Jennings.” He wiggled a little himself. “Perhaps a counselor?”
The student frowned. What was his name? “I was just asking about Oscar Wilde.”
“You were? Oh.” Quinn cursed himself. He’d heard the word “homosexuality” and his brain had dived down to matters at his personal hand. “Oscar Wilde…yes. A genius.”
“And what society did to him was wrong,” the student persisted. “He was just being himself. Right?”
Quinn glanced around and found a pencil to fiddle with. He turned it around and around in his hand as he spoke. “Society rules more of our lives than we like to acknowledge. The culture we live in influences us all in more ways than we can count. For example, it’s nothing for any of us to eat a hamburger. In India…”
“What do hamburgers have to do with Oscar Wilde’s sexuality?”
“Ah. Yes. We’re back on that, are we?” Quinn tes
ted the pencil’s point with his thumb, not quite looking at the student. “What was your name again?”
“Josh.” Josh crossed his arms. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but are you paying attention? If you’re serious about me doing some independent research, I can get behind that. Just something that’ll help me add another dimension to my term paper.”
“The term paper isn’t due for several weeks, Josh,” Quinn said kindly, although he sympathized with the young man’s eagerness to do well. He’d done the same thing in more than a few classes. “We’ve still got a lot of ground to cover before you’d be expected to start work. And yes, we will discuss Wilde in some small part. He’s not the focus, however. Austen is our primary subject of intercourse. I mean, discourse.” Quinn felt himself blush at the slip. “Research on your own for a few weeks,” he suggested. “I’ll remind the class in plenty of time to begin their projects.”
Josh looked disgusted, but otherwise kept his feelings to himself. “Okay, fine. Thanks, Dr. Whiteside.”
As he turned aside, Quinn heaved a sigh of relief. It had been a week since he and Billy had begun sleeping together, and each day as he woke in Billy’s arms, Quinn had promised himself that he would think about things “later”. Right now he couldn’t seem to bring himself to take a step back and get a logical look at the situation.
He was, simply, floating. Hovering in a bubble he didn’t want to break. One wrong move and pop. Something would happen eventually, but until then he’d step carefully, move cautiously, and watch his words.
The one thing he knew for sure was that no one else could know. Billy hadn’t pressed the issue of going public yet, although Quinn couldn’t understand why. It seemed to him that Billy would be the sort who’d want to walk to the cafeteria hand in hand, or sneak into class and kiss him silly in the middle of a lecture. How would the students react to such a thing?
The pencil fell from Quinn’s fingers, clattering onto his lectern, as the image filled his mind. Billy would do exactly that thing if the notion struck him. After a week of being woken by blow jobs in bed, being fucked through the mattress every night, once up against a wall, once on the floor and twice in the shower, he’d learned that when the whim struck, Billy acted.
He could see it so clearly:
The back door of the lecture hall swinging open while Quinn was using a PowerPoint presentation, pointing out key elements of Sense and Sensibility.
Billy walking in through the darkness, casual as if he were strolling through the gardens. Students murmuring as they recognized him.
All eyes on Billy as he ambled down to the lecture platform.
Quinn looking out into the audience and seeing him. Dropping his laser pointer from suddenly nerveless fingers.
Billy mounting the platform, grabbing Quinn by the shoulders and wheeling him around, tipping his chin up with two fingers and pressing a hard kiss to his lips.
The class would go wild. Quinn could almost hear them cheering. And as for himself? He’d stand frozen with shock for a moment, and then, unable to stop, throw his arms around Billy and kiss him back. The noise would double, some of the pupils bursting into applause…
“Professor?” a small voice broke into his fantasy. “Dr. Whiteside, do you have time to talk for a minute?”
Quinn blinked and looked down to see yet another student waiting patiently. Hasty, he swung his seating chart down to cover his lap and the erection that had half-woken. “Yes…um…Shelly?” he hazarded.
Apparently he got the name right, because she beamed. “I was just wondering if you could recommend a private tutor. I’m trying to get this stuff, really I am, but it just goes right over my head. I try to read Austen and I fall asleep.”
Not the best way to endear herself to Quinn. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said a little stiffly, trying to recover some of his dignity. “I do not suggest you use the Cliff Notes, if that’s what you had in mind. You’ll miss out on all the subtle nuances of Austen’s writing. If you’re having difficulty, I suggest that you ask among your classmates for tutoring assistance.”
Shelly turned slightly pink. “I was sort of hoping you could be the one to help me.” She reached for a strand of honey-brown hair and began to twirl it around one finger. “I know you’ve got to be busy. But who gets this stuff better than you? If we spent some time together one on one…you know, just you and me…I bet I’d understand all of this in no time.”
“I see.” Quinn combed his memory. If he recalled correctly, Shelly had never gotten less than an A minus on any of the quizzes or tests. Her attendance had been perfect. She had an odd habit of gazing directly at Quinn during lectures… Oh.
“I’m sorry, Shelly, but I don’t think this would be wise,” he said as gently as he could. “You’ve been doing just fine. There’s no reason to think you won’t perform as well in the future.”
Shelly pouted. Quinn reflected vaguely that a few weeks ago, he would have been equally as horrified at the thought of becoming involved with a student, but now he couldn’t help comparing her soft, female lips to Billy’s hard, manly ones.
His cock filled a bit more. Quinn squirmed. “I really am busy,” he demurred, shuffling his papers out of sheer nervousness. “Here’s an idea. I’ll organize study groups next class. You’ll be able to compare notes with others among your peers.” He looked down at his lecture notes, dismissing her by refusing to meet her gaze. “I’ll see you next time, Shelly.”
Shelly gave a huff, but after a moment of waiting for him to look back at her—and, presumably, fall into the spell of her eyes—she turned on her heel and clattered away. Quinn tsked to himself and shook his head. Really, he’d developed an unhealthy dislike of heels.
He focused on his notes, ticking off everything they’d managed to cover before their allotted class period was up. They’d gotten further into the characters of Sense and Sensibility than he’d hoped, halfway down the cast of characters and their motivations. Quinn felt himself glowing with pleasure. The students, even if some of them were problematic, learned well for the most part. They seemed eager to learn the material. Perhaps some of them even enjoyed it, as opposed to merely wanting a passing grade.
Billy always teased him for being so intense when it came to his classes. Quinn closed his eyes, remembering Billy sprawled out on his stomach on the messy floor of his bedroom, smoking and scrawling doodles on the back of an unused quiz form. “You take this way too seriously,” he’d said. “Ease up, will you? Your students are all gonna have heart attacks if you don’t, first.”
Then he’d grinned that irrepressible grin of his and raised up to his knees. “Hey, you on the bed. I’m talking to you, but I’ve got a better idea of how to use my mouth. Pants down and get on the edge.”
“I’ve got to focus on this,” Quinn had protested, but with only half his heart in the objection.
“Yeah? I want you to focus on me.” Billy had grabbed his legs and pulled until Quinn was barely balanced on the bed. “Pants down, I said.”
“Billy…”
“You want this. You know you do. Your mouth says no, but I see your cock jumping. Come on, baby. I’ll suck you and you suck me. God, you taste good. All that health food shit must give you some kind of special flavor.” He’d spread his hands wide on Quinn’s thighs. “Give me what I want. You need this. Need to relax, Quinn…”
Quinn sighed. Billy had won the argument, of course. Somehow, between Billy’s teasing and his own awakening libido, they’d both ended up naked and lying on the bed with a cock in reach of their lips. God, the feeling of having Billy’s prick in his mouth while Billy sucked on his own dick! He’d been messy and uncoordinated, but Billy had just laughed and pushed him harder.
Every time Billy drove him into an orgasm, Quinn thought it couldn’t get any better.
He was always proved wrong the next time.
Shaking his head, Quinn returned to his notes. Part of him wanted to linger on thoughts of Billy and wondering what the
night at home would bring, but despite the inner devil teasing at him, he’d concentrate and get this done.
A copper-colored hand landed on Quinn’s lectern. “You handled that well,” a genial voice said, startling Quinn into jumping. He jerked his head up and stared into Ten Hawks’ face. His heart began to pound. He hadn’t talked to the Chancellor since his first week at Sweetwater, although he’d certainly heard a great deal about him from Andy during his visits.
Had he done something wrong? What warranted a personal visit from the man? Quinn felt himself grow professionally formal as he sat up straight. “Thank you,” he replied, although he had no idea what Ten Hawks had approved of. “I try my best, of course.”
Ten Hawks nodded. The severe lines of his face were softened by a tilted half-smile. “Shelly Roberts. She’s trouble. I’ve had several of my male faculty complaining about her. I’ve put her on probation, but she just keeps trying, doesn’t she?”
“Trying? Oh. Oh. I see.” Quinn picked his pencil back up. “I would never dream of getting involved with a student, sir.”
Ten Hawks frowned. “Don’t call me that. It’s Ben, or Ten Hawks if you can’t stand to use my first name.”
“I—I didn’t mean—” Quinn stammered. “Ben. I apologize.”
“Ah, well, water under the bridge now, isn’t it?” Ten Hawks waved his hand. “You’re probably wondering why I stopped by.”
Quinn nodded, heart in his throat. Oh, God. What if Ten Hawks had found out about his relationship with Billy? Quinn hadn’t breathed so much as a word, not even to Andy, but there were ways that things got out. If he was in for a scolding about romance on the job, it would shatter his fragile bubble. He’d have to think about things again.
God, but he didn’t want to.
“It’s no big deal,” Ten Hawks said, leaning on the lectern. He patted the notes reassuringly. “You’re not in trouble, Quinn. Stop looking like you’ve just been sentenced to the guillotine.”