Off Syllabus

The setting sun streamed through the blinds of Lecture Hall 404 like thick amber syrup, casting long golden streaks across the desks. The footsteps of the last students had already faded from the hallways of the humanities building. All that remained was the hollow clatter of the cleaning cart's wheels and the rustle of the mop on the linoleum.

Mrs. White, a woman with thirty years of service at the university, sighed wearily. She loved this lecture hall: it always smelled of old books and mint candies, and Professor Wayne, the young assistant professor in the Department of Ethics, always left the blackboard perfectly clean.

She walked over to the wastebasket by the lectern to replace the bag. And froze. Among the crumpled drafts and coffee cups lay two used condoms and a torn foil wrapper.

Mrs. White blinked slowly. She shifted her gaze to the professor's impeccably neat desk, to his neatly folded jacket hanging on the back of his chair.

"Oh, young people..." she muttered under her breath, blushing to the roots of her hair. "If only they'd do that in the dorms, not where people give lectures. Poor professor."

She hurriedly tied the trash bag, trying not to look inside it, rolled the cart out into the hallway, and closed the lecture hall door tightly but silently behind her. The lock clicked.

An absolute, ringing silence hung in the room. All that could be heard was the wind rustling through the elm trees outside the window.

One minute. Two.

BAM!

The cabinet door flew open so violently that it slammed against the wall. Two people tumbled onto the floor in a pile of wires and projectors with muffled groans.

"Get your... elbow out of the way! Move your elbow! You're getting on my nerves!" hissed the young man, trying to untangle his long legs, which were caught in the wires.

His white shirt was unbuttoned almost to his chest, revealing reddened skin covered in fresh hickeys, and his hair stood on end.

The second man, rising to his knees, leaned heavily on his hands. His glasses sat askew on the bridge of his nose, his tie was hopelessly crumpled and wound around his wrist, and his lips were swollen and glistening with saliva. Professor Adrian Wayne (28) closed his eyes, trying to catch his breath and gather the remnants of his shattered authority.

"This is..." Adrian's voice cracked into a rasp, and he cleared his throat, trying to sound like someone with a PhD. "This is the last time, Lucas. I swear, the last time."

Lucas (21) finally freed his leg. He lazily rolled onto his back, right onto a pile of HDMI cables, and looked up at his professor. Absolute triumph and a devilish spark danced in his dark eyes.

Lucas stretched, cupped Adrian's face in his hands, pulled him close, and kissed him squarely on the lips with a wet smack. "Incredible sensations, huh, baby?" Lucas whispered right into his mouth, grinning brazenly. "Admit it: did you like that the cleaning lady was two meters away from us? Do you think she could smell us?"

Adrian closed his eyes, feeling a treacherously hot wave surge through his groin at the mere sound of the boy's voice.

"I'll fail you on the final exam," the professor growled hoarsely, but his hands had already slid of their own accord around Lucas's waist, pulling him closer.

"Promise?" Lucas breathed, tilting his head back and offering his neck. "Then I'll have to come to you for a retake."

"Yes, I promise," the man continued as he licked the young man's neck. "The retake will be at my house."

As if nothing had happened a couple of minutes ago, the men melted into a passionate kiss on the floor.

***

The morning sun shone mercilessly into his eyes, reflecting off the chrome bumpers and glass storefronts of the university campus. The parking lot in front of the humanities building was already teeming with students: some were finishing their coffee on the go, others were frantically finishing their homework, leaning against the hood of a car, and still others were simply standing in groups, laughing and discussing upcoming parties.

Lucas stood with his back against his friend Mark's burgundy Mustang, lazily blowing smoke into the blue May sky. His usual morning crew was hanging out next to him: Mark, Danny, and a couple more guys from their department. They all looked very disheveled, as if they'd just rolled out of bed, and most likely, that was exactly the case.

"Did you see what that Insta-model posted yesterday?" Mark waved his hand with the cigarette, flicking off the ash. "The one with the tattoo on her hip. Damn, I'd..."

"Shut up, Mark," Lucas lazily cut him off, not taking his eyes off the parking lot entrance. "You've been with 'the one' with the tattoo on her hip for three months now. Change the tune; you're not getting anywhere anyway."

Mark snorted but didn't argue. Everyone knew: Lucas was quite the womanizer. And definitely not the type to get fixated on a single conquest. Talking to him about "pure love" was like discussing quantum physics (no wonder these guys had deliberately switched to the humanities).

Lucas took another long drag, feeling the nicotine pleasantly go to his head after yesterday's events. His body ached slightly from too much activity in too small a space. He chuckled to himself, recalling how Adrian had hissed in his ear, "That was the last time," and how he himself had replied with a smug smile.

I wonder what he'll wear today, Lucas thought, surprising himself, squinting against the sun. That dark blue suit with the vest? Or maybe the gray one with the thin stripes today? The one with the pants that fit so snugly... Damn, will I be able to rip that suit off him right in the classroom? Or will I have to wait until tonight?

He could already picture Adrian trying to keep his cool, standing at the blackboard and explaining something about Kant's categorical imperative, while Lucas sat at a desk in the front row and slowly, deliberately slowly, unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. The professor would stumble over his words, adjust his glasses, look away... and blush.

God, how arousing that was. Lucas's cock began to swell slowly.

"Oh, look who the wind has blown in," Danny's voice snapped Lucas out of his daydream.

A group of girls was approaching the parking lot: they were all acquaintances from school; some had even been in the same class as Lucas and Mark. High heels clicked on the asphalt, short skirts fluttered in the morning breeze. In Lucas's opinion, they all looked much hotter than Mark's favorite model.

Some of them headed straight for their boyfriends: one threw her arms around the neck of a guy in a leather jacket, while another planted a kiss on the cheek of a tall blond man standing next to a silver Tesla. The rest stood a little further back, chatting and looking around.

But one...

She was walking straight toward Lucas. She was wearing short denim shorts that accentuated her long, tanned legs; a crop top that revealed her flat stomach; bright, almost neon lips, painted to look even fuller; and eyes: hungry, predatory, self-assured.

"Mia," Mark drawled, smirking. "Her again."

Lucas just smirked in response, not taking his eyes off the approaching girl. Mia was... interesting. Not the prettiest, not the smartest, but with that certain spark that made guys turn their heads. Lucas and Mia had run into each other a couple of times at parties, but they'd never slept together.

Mia walked right up to him, and without saying a word, turned around and sat down on Lucas's lap. Her thighs felt pleasantly heavy, and the scent of sweet perfume hit his nose.

Whistles and cheers from their friends cut through the air.

"O-o-o, Lucas, you're the center of attention again!"

"Get lost!"

Lucas, without a hint of embarrassment, placed his hand on Mia's thigh, squeezed it, and then slowly, almost tenderly, ran his hand up and down.

"What kind of greeting is that, beautiful?" he asked in a low voice that he knew sent a shiver down girls' spines.

She turned around, her lips stretching into a smile, her eyes sparkling.

"I don't know how else to get you interested enough to ask for my number," she purred, leaning in closer.

What a first-class slut.

Everyone around them burst out laughing. Lucas chuckled, feeling Mia press her butt against him and grind slowly, unnoticed by anyone else.

"You know I don't give out my number that easily," he said, running his finger along her waist.

Mia leaned even closer, her breath tickling his ear.

"I'm ready to continue even without a number," she whispered, and there was so much promise in her voice that Lucas's breath caught for a moment.

Damn. He smirked to himself. And Adrian would be jealous if he found out. Or would he? Maybe he should tell him? See how red he'd get?

Lucas loved to play games, but he loved knowing he was desired even more - by everyone, always, everywhere.

"Maybe we can meet up tonight?" Mia asked, running her finger along his cheek.

Lucas had already opened his mouth to answer when his gaze caught something.

A black Range Rover was slowly pulling into the parking lot. The car headed toward the private faculty parking area.

Adrian.

Lucas's heart skipped a beat with anticipation.

He slowly removed his hand from Mia's hip, feeling her turn around in surprise.

"Sorry, beautiful," he said, and the playfulness from a second ago was gone from his voice. "I'll find you later."

Mia pouted but didn't argue. She slid off his lap, quickly cupped his face, and playfully kissed him on the lips.

While everyone around them whistled and cackled with satisfaction, Lucas's gaze was fixed solely on the immaculately clean, tinted car.

Lucas merely smirked as he watched the black Range Rover pull up a few meters away from them. The door opened, and out stepped... him.

Adrian Wayne. In a dark blue suit with a vest, a briefcase in his hand, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, and a sexy, pensive expression on his face.

Their eyes met.