“Like what you see?” he asks, his tone both shy and hopeful. Damn it to hell, he’s adorable.
“Very much,” I respond, my eyes still trained on him. “Tell me, this diet you’re on—”
“It’s more of a meal plan, but ok.”
“Pardon me,” I mock, clearing my throat. “Thismeal plan, does it require you to limit carbs and avoid cotton? Is that the trick?”
“Cotton? Oh, haha. Very funny. Nah, I’m just hot.”
I nod. “No lies detected.”
He smiles bashfully. “I meant that I get hot. As you know, I’m the weirdo who wears shorts in the dead of winter.”
“Well, despite how good your legs look in shorts, I vote we ban them in favor of sweatpants. All in favor say, ‘fuck yes.’ Fuck. Yes. It’s decided.”
“I’ll take it under advisement,” he tells me before heading downstairs to refill his water. I finish up the journal I was reading and add some comments at the end before submitting the grade. I read through the last few submissions in the same fashion, and before I know it, Booker’s back.
“Hey, sorry. I got hungry,” he shrugs. “I heated up some chicken and steamed some broccoli. Did you want some? There’s plenty left over in the kitchen. Maybe not plenty, but enough.”
“Thanks, but I’m still full from dinner. And no worries. I actually had a chance to finish up the journals for the Tuesday/Thursday class, so that’s a win.”
“Great,” Booker says, but I notice he’s still lingering in the doorway, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
“You good?” I ask.
“Yeah, totally. Just…um…” without finishing his sentence, he shucks his sweatpants to the ground and stands before me, gloriously naked. His cock is thick and heavy and hard, and I swear my mouth waters.
“Is there something I can help you with?” I tease.
“I want to touch you. To kiss you. I want to just…explore, you know?”
“Yeah, I do,” I tell him, pulling my t-shirt off and tossing it to the floor before doing the same with my flannel pajama pants. I pull back the covers and pat the space next to me. “Crawl in.”
He does as I ask, and he’s right. His body is like a furnace next to mine, but it’s tense.
“Hey,” I soothe, stroking his arm. “You sure you’re ok?”
He looks at me. “I'm pretty sure I’m going to come in about two minutes and embarrass the heck out of myself. It’s like, I’ve had these thoughts, these feelings for so long, but I could never let them swim to the surface. And then you oversaw my class, a class that dealt specifically with all the things I’d been conditioned to suppress, and that made things better and worse. But now? I’m not your student. And I’m no genius, but I think it’s fair to say that you feel the same way about me as I do about you?”
The slight hesitancy in his voice breaks me. “More than fair,” I say, cupping his cheek and running my fingers across his strong jaw.
“That’s good. Great. Amazing. But it’s like this switch has been flipped in my body, and I have, like, zero chill. I look at you or hear your voice or even think about you, and my dick gets hard. I’m like a horny middle-schooler. But the funny part is, I was not this horny in middle school. It’s that thing you talked about in class. At least, I think it is. I’m demi. I need that deep connection, and when I have it, with the right person, well, the floodgates kinda open up,” he says, gesturing at his cock, hard and throbbing.
“Nothing wrong with that,” I say sincerely.
“It’s your fault,” he says, the words more playful than accusatory. “I’d seen you in Drip, of course. You’re kind of hard to miss with those hazel eyes and that smile and that whole hot-guy-with-glasses vibe. But I don’t know. I just sort of registered you as good looking and moved on. But then you started coming around with Phoebe, and I couldn’t stop looking at you. You had to notice that, right?”
I shake my head. “I was too busy stealing surreptitious glances at you.”
“Good. That makes me feel less like a creeper. I just…” He trails a hand down my side, rests it on my hip, holding me in place. Looking down at me with appreciation, he smiles. “You’re gorgeous. You know that, right? This lean body feels like it was made for my hands. That night you fell and I carried you to my car, brought you here? I was about to lose my mind with wanting you. I couldn’t deny it anymore. Holding you in my arms felt so good. And my body knew it.”
“So, the hasty exit?” I ask.
“Was so I didn’t make a fool of myself. Ironic, because I totally made a fool of myself by rushing out of here.” He shakes his head. “But now that I can say the words out loud, now that I know you want the same thing, now that I have you here? It’s like my body’s on fire. I’m like a hungry hockey player at a buffet. I want it all, but I don’t know where to start.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing I’m bossy,” I say, leaning up to kiss him, before sliding over to switch our positions. “Lie back, Booker. Let me show you how good it can be.”
“But you already—”
