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Chapter 13


I had a problem. A really big problem.

A big problem that involved Madden Sylar.

For the past few days, he had been talking to this other guy. Who he seemed to be very uncomfortable with. I was acutely aware of that because my eyes kept flitting over to him without my consent. This other guy touched him too closely and too intimately. I hated him.

For once, I wished I had actually bothered remembering the names of my students so that I could know who this fucking guy was. It wouldn't be difficult to look him up but somehow, I couldn't seem to admit to myself that I cared that much.

Then, something happened.

His lips were on his. And his hands. His fucking hands were touching places they should not be touching.

I passed them in the corridor, trying to ignore the irritation rising in my throat. Then, he kissed him.

I could feel all the possessiveness and irrationality bubble to the surface. White-hot anger ripped through me.

Madden wasn't mine. I had spent months telling myself that he wasn't mine. He would never be mine, and I couldn't have him. But damn it if he was going to be anyone else's.

But I wasn't going to watch them kiss. I tried not to snarl, brushing past him and slamming the door to my office shut.


About ten minutes later, Madden stuck his head in my office door. I glared murderously at him and he frowned. "What's wrong?"

What's wrong? What the fuck was I supposed to say? That I was jealous? That's bullshit.

"Get out," I hissed.

"That's not happening," Madden mutters, closing the door behind him. He doesn't sit down but he stares at me with concern in his eyes. Damn him.

"Get the fuck out of my office," I said again. "Otherwise-"

"I'll regret it?" he finished with a smirk.

I growled, marching over and locking the door with a click. Grabbing his wrist, I yanked him pulling him towards the desk.

"What are you doing?" Madden asked, wincing as I shoved him against the wall, his ribs slamming against the white plane, probably hard enough to crack. He makes choked noise but doesn't say anything else.

"Just be quiet," I sneered, pulling down his pants in one quick movement. Madden's pupils only grew as he realized where this was going.

But damn it, he didn't stop me.

"Avery," he whispered.


"Lube," he mutters. "Please."

I snarled, grabbing his wrists and twisting them behind his back. Pulling the lube from the drawer in my desk, I shoved a finger in him. His fingers curled and I could tell he was holding back a yelp.

I don't know what my plan was. There was no fucking the thought and entire memory of the guy out of him, as much as I wanted that. There was a blinding hot ball of emotion that I've never felt, pulsing inside my veins. But I was pissed. And frustrated. And jealous.

I barely had the senses and the coherency of any right mind to actually prep him first. I could smell the musk and the arousal from him. This was turning him on. I could feel the need radiating off of him. He was so damn responsive under my touch.


My fingers stretched him open and he slumps against the wall, soft moans and squeals slipping from his lips.

"You're a fucking whore," I sneered into his ear.

"But-" he gasps softly, my fingers hitting his prostate. "But, why?"

"You kiss your boyfriend," I said harshly, "Then you get hard for your professor.

"I'm sorry, sir," he moaned. His lips were wet with saliva, permanently parted as he stared up at me already breathless.

Madden squirmed, pushing his ass against my already hard erection. I cursed. I undid my pants, pulling out my cock and pressing it against the crook of his hole.

I slammed myself into him and he cried out, his scream cutting through the walls, probably loud enough to echo through the halls.

He whimpered, his eyes welling with tears as I forced him down on my cock, pressing myself deep into him in jerky, aggressive motions. With each slam, Madden's mouth fell open, more cries slipping out as he writhed slightly against my hold, the angle pushing me further inside him.

I channeled all my anger into each thrust, pressing into him roughly. The tears visibly streaming down his face only made me groan, my strokes tearing him apart. "A-avery," he whines pitifully.

I scowled, prying his jaw open and shoving a finger down his throat till it hit the back. I cut off his voice and he gagged, crying softly at the sudden intrusion. But, being Madden, after his initial shock, he took my fingers willingly into his mouth sucking on them. My eyes narrowed slightly at that, zeroing on the motion. He took every damn thing I gave him with relish and submission.

He was a nightmare sent from heaven for me.

I pulled away from his face and pushed my hand backward in a sudden motion, slamming my palm into the front of his neck, cutting sharply into his airway and his vocal cords. He gasped in scarce alarm, defeat settling over his features. I pressed into him and he met my eyes, just barely, slightly begging, slightly in fear.

My fingers dug into the sides of his neck, hard enough to bruise, hard enough to choke. Madden whimpered, his mouth seeming unable to close as he squirmed under me, trying to catch a bit more breath than I was allowing him. I pulled my hand tighter for a few seconds and he shook his head desperately. The tears from earlier only pooled, streaming more steadily down his face as his eyes slipped shut. When I finally let him go, he wasn't given any time to catch his breath as I forced his hips backward again, my cock gaping him in a rugged thrust. He hung his head, his eyes still closed.

I stabbed into him, each turn angrier than the last as Madden's lips parted, desperate pleas falling plainly. He clenched tightly around me, edging me on. He felt so perfect, warm, and fit around my cock, his body humming with pure need, despite how unstructured he was right now, bent and almost certainly testing his limits.

My body pulsed and I pushed him off of the wall letting him crumple to his knees on the floor. He makes a pained noise as his knees hit the ground and he glanced up at me pleadingly. "Professor," he panted. "Please..."

"Tell me what you want," I commanded.

His tongue darts out across his lips, wetting them and I felt myself strain not to continue just yet. "P-please...fuck me, sir," he begged, his voice quivering. His eyes were rimmed with red, his lashes wet and dark. "I-I...I need..." his voice falters slightly and he stared down at the ground. "Please...Sir... make me sorry."

This boy was a living, breathing, walking fucking temptation. He was on his knees, begging to be fucked into ecstasy. I went again, pushing him onto all fours, entering him, making him cry out. I was making him dirty, fucking him on the floor. I pressed his torso down, capturing his hands behind his back again, forcing his ass further into the air. Pulling him into submission. Madden's eyes slipped shut, his lashes dark and wet, as tears slipped out, his entire figure trembling beneath me. "Too much?" I challenged, using his forearms as a grip, massaging into his spot with each stroke, yanking him into me.

He shook his head, stubbornly. "N-no, sir."

His breathless words added fuel to my thrusts forcing tortured moans from his throat. He was still crying, his hands curling against the one that was holding him in place, his lithe frame shaking underneath me, a soft sob racking his body each time. My hands found his neck again and I could feel each quiver that he got running through him as I wrapped my fingers around his throat, not planning on letting go this time.

"Please," he whispers.

"Say it," I growled. "Say the word."

"No," he said quietly. "Don't stop."

"You like being fucked like this?" I demanded.

He made a noise of protest. "...only for you, sir."

"That's a lie," I growled, fucking him harder at his words.

"No," he insisted.

"Whenever I want, wherever I want, however, I want," I said harshly. He moans softly, limbs weak and useless at this point. And he wasn't the only one making noises.

"Yes, sir," he breathes.

I grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling his head back and yanking his face up next to mine. "Look at me," I commanded.


"Look. At. Me." I punctuated each word by another slam into his prostate.

His eyes fluttered open and his eyes shined back at me. "Please, professor," he cried, back arching against my chest.

I ignored that statement, rolling my hips against his. Madden's sharp cries of pain, curdled in gasps and whimpers as I held his body like a rag doll as he stopped resisting, letting me use him, fucking him, breaking him.

I caught him before he crashed into the floor.


My hand looped around his forearm, and I held him up by the arm as his legs folded underneath himself. His breathing came in ragged, angled breaths and he sat down on the floor his own arm leaning against my office desk for stability.

He seemed to be taking some time to both process and regain coherency.

There were so many things I was feeling right now. Not from the anger or envy but the heavyset guilt and remorse.

I had genuinely lost control. Something inside me clenched painfully and I swallowed the lump lodged in my throat.

I wanted to run. But I wasn't going to leave him crying on the floor. Carefully, I knelt down next to him, unsure what I was supposed to say. But I did know what I needed to do.

As soon as I was with arms reach, Madden wrapped his arms around my neck, clinging to me. I pressed my lips together, tentatively sitting down on the floor and pulling him into my lap.

I wanted to run, why the hell didn't he?

He did not look terrified, as I would have presumed. He looked sad.

Well, he was crying.

Instead of saying anything, simply because I didn't have anything acceptable to say, I gently tucked his head against my neck and let him cry. Almost absentmindedly, I ran my fingers through his hair, lips pressing against the top of his head.

An unquantified amount of time passed, before he finally whimpered, "You're mad."

I paused.

"I'm not."

Madden made another noise. "Why are you mad?"

"I'm not," I said more forcefully.

He avoided my eyes. "You're mad at me."

"I'm not."

For a second, he didn't say anything else. Sniffling, he stood unsteadily to his feet, knuckles gripping so tightly around the edge of the desk that they whitened. I watched blankly as he pulled his pants back up, righting himself. I could still see a slight tremble in his limbs as he smoothed his hands down against his shirt.

"What are you doing?" I asked flatly.

"I-I'm leaving," he mumbled.

I scowled. "Why?"

He still wasn't looking at me. "B-because you're being an m-massive dick right now and I don't want to d-deal with it." Had he not been crying, that might've been threatening. His lower lip quivered and he started moving towards the door.

I sighed, grabbing his hand before he could get far. I yanked him back down against my torso, eliciting a small whimper from him. He doesn't resist, however when I wrapped my arms around his waist and pinned him against me so he couldn't move away again. He just bowed his head in an almost ashamed manner.

As hard this was going to be for me to admit, I didn't enjoy seeing him upset. Especially when I couldn't tell where that was coming from.

"I'm not mad at you," I told him somewhat irritatedly.

He didn't look a bit like he believed me.

"Yes, you are," he cried softly.

I had no right to have gotten that angry with him. I had no right to control who he chose to kiss and who he slept with. Because, damn it, he wasn't mine to have.

I stared down at his face and I realized with a start why he was upset.

He was upset because he genuinely believed he'd displeased me in some way. "It's not you," I murmured quietly. "Believe me."

Madden pouted.

I rolled my eyes. "Look at me," I commanded.

He did, peeking up at me through his wet lashes. I pushed his head up further, enough so I could see his face. "Are you alright?" I asked.

He swallowed, nodding. "I'm okay," he assured softly. I hardly relax. I studied his face carefully, focusing him in a hard stare and searching his face for signs of distress. I hadn't wanted to actually hurt him.

His eyes softened and he took my hand. "Stop worrying, Avery."

"I'm not," I muttered, running my thumb across his cheek, brushing away a stray tear.

He leaned into the touch, letting me see just how much damage I had done. He really did seem okay so I let him go. Madden gave me a small smile. "Satisfied now?"

"Not really," I admitted. "You're still crying." He immediately starts wiping at his eyes and the corner of my lips lifted slightly. I reached up over to my desk drawer and retrieved a tissue. I pued his hands away from his face, setting them in his lap. His fingers twitched, almost as if he wasn't happy that I had moved them, but he keeps them lowered. I pat his face dry, an odd sense of calm took over as he allowed me to take care of him. I brushed his hair from his face, gently sweeping his bangs from his eyes.

He looked up at me shyly. "Thank you."

"Yes, well, do not get used to it," I murmured.

"I think I already have, professor," he said in a light tone.

"You can leave now," I replied, not bringing myself to respond to that comment.

He frowned. His eyes were big and still slightly watery, staring up at me pleadingly. "Do I have to?"

I scowled down at him. "Do you just always make that face and get your way?" I asked without thought.

He laughed softly. "Usually. It works surprisingly well on you."

I rolled my eyes, helping him off of the floor. "Do you have nothing better to do?" I remarked dryly.

"I don't want to go home," he confessed quietly.

I tilt my head to the side. "Why?"

He shifted slightly, looking uncomfortable. "It's not important." More than what had been bothering him minutes earlier, there was another thing upsetting him recently. And I couldn't very well ask, even if I had a compulsive need to know what it was.

"It's important," I said, hating that I really cared this much.

Madden opens his mouth, but shakes his head, looking down. "Not to you."

I was starting to see the problem. It definitely was important to me if it was making him upset.

I almost insisted that he leave my office out of sheer denial, but I clearly didn't want him to go. "Come here," I muttered.

He obediently floats over to me, sitting back down in my lap, legs dangling over the side of the chair. He squirms a bit and I put a hand on his leg. "Stop that."

"Yes, sir," he mumbled, stilling immediately.

"Good," I murmured reflexively. He flushed, biting his lip and I raise a brow at him. "What?"

He shook his head, tucking his head against my chest. I leaned over, gently biting down on the outer helix of his ear making him stiffen. "Tell me," I demanded.

He swallowed, his face a light shade of pink. "I like it when you tell me I'm good," he mumbled.

My lips twitch. "Do you?" I mused. He was only confirming my earlier thoughts, which gave me a sense of satisfaction. Madden nodded.

He was more obvious than I was, so there was that.

"You would make a good whore," I commented offhandedly. He blinked several times before smiling.

"Wow, you're such a dick."

Strangely, he sounded sincere. "My pretty little whore," I murmured.

His smile slipped. "You're going to call me that, aren't you?" he faltered.

I smirked. "It has a nice ring to it."

"Out loud," he said slowly. "You're going to call me that."

"Well, it's no fun if I don't use it to make you squirm."

"Why would it-" His eyes widened. "Don't."

"Don't what?" I asked, entertained.

"Call me that in front of actual people."

I got a wicked glint in my eye. "We'll see."

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