Seducing Professor Coyle (9 page)

“Don’t call me that. My name is Dr. Coyle, or Professor Coyle if you prefer.”

“Fine. Dr. Coyle, I know you don’t know me, but you can trust me. I would never use your personal life against you. I’m gay, always have been.
I
was at Thorn’s party too, remember?”

“I remember,” he said. “You were spying on me. At the cabana. Weren’t you?”

Benjamin stepped back, his face stricken. “That was an accident.”

Peter let out a long breath. “So it
was
you in the window.”

Even in the darkness, he could see a blush climb the boy’s cheeks. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

Peter shook his head. “This conversation is over.” He turned to walk away, when Ben caught his arm, whirling him around. “Don’t touch me, what are you—”

Benjamin kissed him, catching his mouth in mid-word. For a moment Peter couldn’t move, the sensation freezing him. Ben must have taken his stillness as acceptance, and he gripped his shoulders, pulling Peter against him, his warm tongue sliding into his mouth. For an instant, Peter responded, lust stampeding through his body, and his tongue glided with the boy’s, his body leaning to press closer to his hard body.

Then a switch flicked in his mind, and he pushed Benjamin off him, breaking the kiss. “Stop it.” His voice came out breathier than he would have liked, heart thudding in his chest.

“Why?” Ben asked, his voice hoarse. “I want you.”

Peter held his hands up. “Do not do that again. Ever.”

Taking a slow step toward Peter, Ben reached for him again, and Peter couldn’t seem to move his legs. Catching him in another kiss, he eased Peter backward until he was against the bark of a tree. He gasped as the boy’s hardness met his own erection, grinding urgently. Peter’s hands moved of their own accord, suddenly tangled in Ben’s hair, gripping it roughly, eliciting a groan from the boy as they kissed.
Stop
, his mind ordered.
Stop
.

But he couldn’t yet. He devoured Ben’s mouth savagely, even as he ordered his body to cease. He actually felt Benjamin’s erection lengthen against his hip, the boy’s breath coming in short gasps. His tongue held the faint flavor of liquor, along with the more intoxicating taste that was simply
him
. Peter made the kiss even deeper, using his teeth, all but gnawing at his delicious young mouth. He flipped them around, pressing Ben against the tree, flattening himself against his body, kissing him roughly. Ben moaned, a desperate, pleading sound.

“You’re perfect.” Benjamin breathed the words into Peter’s mouth, and it snapped him back to reality. He was mauling a student in the woods. He was anything but
perfect
. Releasing himself from the lip lock, he stepped back, his head whirling.

Benjamin leaned against the tree, eyes closed, panting. “Why...why did you stop?”

“Because,” Peter said, struggling to control of his breath. “I do
not
want you!” he shouted. “Now leave me the fuck alone.”

He sprinted out of the woods, and this time Benjamin didn’t follow him. Peter was in his car and halfway home before his heart rate slowed to normal, but his face was beaded with sweat, his erection still stiff enough to tent his pants.

When he pulled into his driveway, he turned the engine off and sat with his head on the steering wheel. “Oh, Christ,” he muttered. “I am so screwed.”

Chapter Seven

Dominick stepped into the kitchen, eyes boggled and squinting from sleep, just as Ben took a swill off the rum bottle. The burning liquor warmed his belly, and he let out a sigh. “Oh, sorry. Did I wake you, bro?”

Dom scowled, scratching his pajama-clad butt. “Why are you drinking? Isn’t the dean’s party tonight?”

Ben sat on the counter, still in his tan slacks, but otherwise shirtless and barefoot. The rum bottle dangled from his left hand. “Was,” he said. “But I left.”

Dominick eyed him warily, moving to the kitchen table and sitting. “You never drink like this. You look shitfaced.”

“Getting there,” Ben said.

“And your hair’s a mess. Your hair’s never a mess. You’re neurotic about it.”

Ben sighed, and took another slug of rum. “Hair’s a mess because someone was tugging on it. Which I’m hoping to forget about once I drink enough of your rum. I’ll buy you another bottle.”

He smiled at his roommate. Dominick looked cute in his PJ bottoms and tee shirt, such sweetness shrouding that sinfully beautiful body. As distraught and angry as he was over the failed attempt at seducing his professor, it had most definitely sent his libido skyrocketing. And it was still at peak velocity, must be if he was looking at Dominick with a lustful eye. Dom was gorgeous, sexy, manly, but Ben never thought of him
in that way
anymore, not since the single night they spent together so long ago.

But Dom didn’t return his grin, in fact his roommate was looking at him with concern, and perhaps a bit of fear. It was understandable. Ben’s behavior was out of character. But then Ben’s behavior had been out of character for days now, ever since his first encounter with
that man
. Peter Coyle had ignited something in him. Those few mere moments in the woods had set his soul ablaze, and then it was ripped away from him. Leaving him numb, empty, needing to be filled. Needing Coyle’s hands on him again, his mouth rough and urgent, his cock grinding against Ben’s.

“Is this about that Coyle guy?” Dom asked, as though in response to Ben’s thoughts.

Ben’s head fell back as he laughed drunkenly. “Yeah. The Slutty Professor.” He looked at Dominick, who still studied him as though he was a puzzle that needed to be solved. His red hair was mussed up from sleeping, and Ben wanted to touch it, run his fingers through it and tug on it, as Coyle had done to him. “You’ve got bed head. You’re all messy hot.”

Dom shook his head slowly. “What’s gotten into you?”

Ben snorted. “Nothing, unfortunately.”

“I’ve never seen you like this. You’re a control freak, but the past few days...”

“The past few dayyyss,” he said, slurring slightly, “have been fucked up.”

Dom’s expression turned sympathetic. “I know. But at least you got your lit grade sorted out. I think it’s time you forgot about that damn teacher, though. He does
not
have a good effect on you. You never drink this much, this isn’t you.”

Ben shrugged, taking a pull off the bottle. “Is this what love feels like?”

“Being shitfaced? No. And you’re not in love. You barely know the guy. You’re
obsessed
.”

“Is there a difference?”

Dom huffed. “Hell yeah, there’s a difference. Love gets your heart broken. Obsession gets you tossed in jail if you’re not careful.”

Ben hopped off the counter and set the bottle down. Dom’s eyes did a quick scan of his bare torso as Ben walked slowly toward him. “Maybe I should prepare for that eventuality, roomie. Wanna have prison sex?”

Dom’s chair scraped the floor as he pushed back. “Cut the shit, Ben.”

“Come on,” he said, pulling another chair out and sitting clumsily. “You be the warden and I’ll be the naughty prisoner. You still think about me, admit it.”

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Dom scowled. “Why do you say that?”

Ben leaned toward him, grinning. “You never bring guys home.”

He shrugged. “So what? I like having this place as our sanctuary, I don’t want to bring my pick-ups here.”

“Do you actually have any pick-ups, Dom?”

“What the fuck? You know I do.”

Ben shook his head. “I know you stay out late some nights. I also know you never left that pool at Thorn’s party. Which means you didn’t get laid. No ejaculation in the water, remember?”

“Again, so
what
?”

“Sooo, I think you were waiting for me. I think you brought me to that party to loosen my inhibitions, get me in the mood. So
you
could have me.”

A bright red flush climbed up Dominick’s cheeks. “Would that be so bad? We get along. We’ve proven we can live together. Who else would be able to put up with the two of us?”

Ben stopped grinning. Dominick’s words shocked him. He hadn’t expected him to admit it. He knew he should end this conversation now. They were bordering on friendship altering stuff here. If it stopped now, they could salvage what they had. The awkwardness would eventually pass.

But his body still throbbed with desire; that angry, scalding flame Peter Coyle had ignited in him. He needed to get laid. His eyes trailed over Dom’s body, remembering the night they made love. It had been nice but hardly earth shattering. But Dom was so big, so muscular, surely he had it in him. Surely he could be aggressive if provoked...aggressive like a certain lit professor who made Ben’s heart ache almost as much as his cock.

“Kiss me,” he whispered.

Dom’s eyelids fluttered. “No. You’re drunk.”

Ben grabbed his tee shirt and pulled him in. “So
what
?” Tugging Dom closer, he kissed him. The kiss was awkward at first. Dominick was stiff, his lips tight. But after a moment they softened, accepting Ben’s tongue in his mouth. It grew more heated, and soon Dom was kissing him back, slowly but passionately. But that wasn’t how Ben wanted it. “Kiss me harder,” he hissed. “Bruise my mouth.”

Dom pulled his head back, his breathing heavy as he looked into Ben’s eyes. “I don’t want to do it harder. I want to savor you. I want to take my time.”

Ben pulled him in again, capturing his mouth, delving in with his tongue. He slid off his chair and straddled Dom, grinding against him, fingers tugging at his long hair. Dom’s cock swelled beneath him, and he moaned into the kiss. Ben kissed him harder, urging him to let go, to be primal. He needed Dom to use that hard body of his, wanted him to toss him around. Ben’s groin swelled at the thought, an incredible, unfamiliar need. He needed to be taken roughly, hands gripping him, a cock in his ass.

“Ouch!” Dom pulled back. “You bit me. That hurt!”

“Don’t be a baby,” he said, and went in for another kiss. Dom resisted for a second, then melted into it, his arms wrapping around Ben’s back, pulling him down onto his groin. Dominick’s kiss grew more fevered, and a thrill ran through Ben’s body, tightening his asshole, making him swoon. “Fuck me,” he breathed into Dominick’s mouth.

“Let’s go to my room,” Dom said, his voice trembling. “I want to touch you everywhere.”

“No, fuck me here. Now. Bend me over the table and just slam me.” He reached down and squeezed Dom’s cock through his pants. Dom flinched. “Come on, do it.” He climbed off him and unzipped his slacks, tugging them down along with his underpants.

“Ben...”

“
What
?” He accidentally shouted the word, his frustration—and the alcohol—getting the better of him.

Dom flinched, then stood. “You know what? I don’t want to fuck you, Ben. You’re a mess. Go to bed.”

He started past him, and Ben grabbed his arm, tugging him roughly back. “You can’t stop now, you teasing prick!”

Dominick shoved him, and he went flying back onto his ass, naked buttocks stinging as they slapped the linoleum floor. He was stunned, but his anger was right behind it. “That’s more like it,” he hissed. “You finally learned proper foreplay.”

“Fuck you, you fucking prick!” Dom shouted.

Ben went very still. He’d never heard Dominick raise his voice, not like that. The veins in his neck bulged, his fair skin crimson, eyes ablaze with fury. Pointing down at Ben, he gritted his teeth. “You are a fucking prick, Ben LeClair. What happened, did Mr. Teacher Man reject you? Is that why you thought you could come home and use me as a fucking
dildo
? Well fuck you! I’m moving out tomorrow. Go to hell.”

Naked on the floor, pants tangled around his ankles, Ben watched Dominick strut down the hall, flinching when he slammed his bedroom door so hard the whole house shook.

He simply sat there for several minutes, stunned, drunk, confused. His erection shrank and softened, and finally he pulled his pants up, climbing to his feet. Stumbling down the hall, he went into his own room and closed the door. Falling face down on his bed, he wept into the pillow. He hadn’t shed tears since the night he left his father’s house for the last time.

Frozen tears on his cheeks. Hunger pains. Horror and sympathy on the neighbors’ faces.

The memory made him cry harder, and suddenly the flood gates opened. Every pain he’d kept bottled up over the years came pouring out, from old wounds to more recent. He cried for his childhood. He cried for his dead mother. He cried over Dr. Coyle’s rejection of him. He cried because he’d hurt Dominick.

When he finally dozed off around dawn, the pillow was saturated with his tears.

Chapter Eight

Ben was too hung over to attend classes, so he called his teachers and got his assignments. He had the flu, he told them. They were sympathetic, which made him feel guiltier. Guilt and shame were the emotions du jour. And Dominick hadn’t come home from work yet. He was usually home by five, and it was half past.

He checked Dom’s room to be sure he hadn’t packed his shit and left already. All his things were still there. Tears threatened again as he sat on the bed, though he couldn’t imagine he had many left in him. His head was still pounding, so he went into the bathroom to get some painkillers, and that’s when he heard the front door open, keys jangling as Dom came in the house.

He swallowed the pills and stared into the mirror. He looked awful, dark circles under his eyes, his usual healthy color ashen and pale. All day he’d waited for the chance to apologize to Dominick, but now that he was here, he was almost afraid to face him. He’d acted like such an ass last night. And Dominick said he was moving out.
No. He can’t. I’ll die
.

Finally mustering his courage, he trudged out into the living room, where Dom sat on the sofa, a bag of takeout in front of him on the coffee table. He looked up at Ben. “I got you something,” he said.