2 weeks was apparently too long.
For the past weeks, I hadn't gotten to see Madden nearly as much as before. I wish that didn't bother me as much as it did. He was oddly absent from my office and I sort of hated that.
But I couldn't pinpoint why.
When I did see him, he seemed tired and a bit sad. And at the current moment, I hadn't seen him for two entire weeks. Since I kind of went into a jealous rage and fucked him into the floor of my office.
I was getting irritated. Not at him, per se. But at the guy that kept kissing and touching him.
More and more irritated.
Right now, I was really fucking riled up.
Madden always sat at the back of my class, making him usually one of the last ones to leave when my lecture was over. He also always sat next to this guy who, although I recognized from the times I've been to his apartment as his roommate, Liam McCauley, was still way too close with Madden for my liking.
My liking? What was this fucking kid doing to my brain?
"Um, professor?" a student asks quietly.
"What?" I snapped.
Her eyes widened and she took a step back. I almost cringed visibly. "What do you want?" I said more evenly.
My eyes darted over to where Madden was still sitting, despite my class having ended. Madden's roommate was gone, leaving him alone with that other son of a bitch. They seemed to be just talking, but Madden looked uncomfortable.
Or maybe it was all in my head. Maybe I wanted him to be uncomfortable because right now I was being blinded by the idea that any other guy would put his hands on Madden. Even if that guy was his age and wasn't a twisted fuck like me.
But I wasn't mistaken. Madden was not happy with this guy.
I had given in and looked him up. Patrick Arnold. During my lectures, he kept talking and Madden actually squirmed away from him.
"Would it be possible for me to get an extension for the paper that was due yesterday?" she squeaked.
I forced my attention away from Madden and turned to her. I didn't particularly feel like having this conversation right now. I wanted nothing more than to just pull a certain person into my arms and fuck him senseless.
Nevertheless, I listened to her talk, answering her request, and trying not to grit my teeth. I really scared her. By the time we were done, she looked like she wanted to die.
"Thank you, professor," she mutters before quickly rushing out of my class.
Madden was still talking to him. What the fuck were they talking about that was so damn interesting. Finally, the guy left him alone and Madden looked...worried. His full, pink lips were pressed into a small pout and his hands twisted together. I had seen that look on him before. He, lost in thought, followed the remaining students filing out of the classroom.
As a last-minute thought, I reached out and grabbed his wrist. I pulled him back, yanking him against my torso. His entire body tensed but after a few seconds, he relaxed.
"Are you avoiding me?" I asked after we were left alone. It was a ridiculous question. It really shouldn't matter to me if he was.
"No," he whispers. He tried to turn to face me but I kept his back firmly planted against my chest.
"Really?" I said harshly. My eyes landed on his neck. Most of the last bruises I had left on his fair skin were fading and I was dying to leave another mark.
"I'm not," he mumbles. "I've been busy."
"Busy doing what?" I prod.
He wets his lips and I zeroed in on his tongue darting out. I hadn't touched him in a week, and I was feeling really damn clingy. "It's not important." Based on the look on his face, it was important.
"What is it?" I murmured, dropping my voice.
"I can't tell you," he said softly.
I leaned down to his neck, my lips brushing against his nape. "Can't or won't?" I put my mouth on his porcelain skin, sucking a bruise into his neck.
Madden whimpers, but he tilts his head to the side, giving me access. "I know you're going to think it's dumb, so I'm not telling you." He almost sounded dejected about it. There something so very off about him. Madden was such a bubbly, happy person. Usually. Right now he seemed very....not.
I frowned. Something I thought was dumb? And he cares that much about what I think? "Fine," I replied, trying not to be annoyed. Was it this guy that was hanging around him?
Because, yeah. I definitely thought he was dumb.
"I'm sorry," he breathed out.
I paused, my teeth just grazing the skin above his collarbone. "Why?"
"I..." He swallowed, biting his lip nervously. "I wanted to see you. I'm sorry I didn't."
A felt a twinge of affection for him, but I don't respond to the apology. I left another mark on his neck. He let out a quiet cry, but he didn't protest, clamping his lips shut.
Oh, that wouldn't do. I wanted to hear all his noises. I pulled a piece of his skin into my teeth, biting him hard enough to at least leave an indentation.
"Avery," he gasps. My name rolls off his tongue shot instantly to my cock and I groaned. "Please."
"What do you want?"
He whines. "I need you."
"Yeah?" I growled.
"Fuck me, professor."
I read it again. And then I frowned.
Okay, Madden's paper was decent. It was...good.
And that was kind of shocking. I knew Madden wasn't stupid, but for a student that averaged a D minus in my class and was borderline failing at the start of the semester? This was very surprising.
Actually, I've noticed a rapid rise in the quality of his work in my class over the past month. It was all very weird.
A small knock sounded at the door to my study and Madden sticks his head in. I leaned back in my chair and he gave me a shy look. "Are you busy?"
I scoffed. "Has that ever stopped you?" He smiled softly, stepping inside the room and closing the door behind him. "Come here," I muttered.
He gently pads over to me and I pull him into my lap. His head rests against my chest and it just felt so perfect, his body cradled against mine.
"Is..." Madden blinks. "Is that my paper?"
I swallowed. "Yes."
He seemed to be fully awake now, sitting up slightly. "Did you grade it?"
We hadn't talked a lot about Madden's grade in my class. Because every time I thought about I wanted to rip someone's hair out. I never missed the way he leaned into my touch or the way he smiled at me or flirted so easily with me. But the fact that I was well aware he was playing me like a fucking violin for a grade in my class made me distressed beyond measure. No, I was pretty much furious. Not at him. But mostly at myself for letting him get to me. And for not being able to resist him in the beginning, before it got this bad.
"Yes." My voice came out stiffer then I intended.
He turned, looking up at me, a look of childlike hopefulness in his eyes. "How did I do?"
I scowled. "You'll see. The grades will go up on Wednesday."
He pouts. "I don't get to know now?"
I wanted to tell him to stop fucking with my head. "Why do you care?" I snapped. For fucks sake, he had no reason to even check his grade anymore.
His smile falters slightly. "I...um...I guess I don't."
That was confusing. I stared at his face but he wasn't looking at me anymore. He looked very conflicted. But I hated that look on his face. He looked genuinely upset. I sighed, wanting to kick myself. "You got a B." His face brightened. I rolled my eyes. "Minus."
"Really?" he asked, sounding a little in disbelief. He hesitated, his face falling again. "Did you..."
It took me a moment to get what he was trailing off about. He wanted to know if I gave him some sort of special treatment. "No, it is an objective grade," I said a bit defensively.
He beams, seeming very pleased with himself. I kept my expression blank, watching him carefully. Then he looked up at me and a small look of hurt flashed in his eyes. "Sorry," he mumbled, shrinking back down against me.
My blood froze. What the fuck? I almost asked, but I didn't. Why was he sorry? "If you had the capabilities of getting a decent grade, why didn't you?" I mutter.
He pressed his lips together. "I...that's not important," he brushed off.
"Sure," I said dryly. I didn't really know how to feel about think. I'd be the last to admit that I had been totally wrong about him being dumb when he walked into my office that day. I was trying to wrap my head around the idea that he would rather sleep around for a grade instead of trying. Because clearly, he could. My question was why was he doing this now? His semester is coming to a close. He really didn't need to.
"I'm not that smart," he said quietly. "It took me a hell of a lot to get that paper done."
I blinked. I wasn't sure if he was being generally self-deprecating or if he just actually believed his words. "Like what?"
"Don't say it's not important. Clearly, it is," I cut him off sharply.
He stares down at his lap. "To me it is. But you don't want to hear it."
As much as I could definitely see why that should be the case, it wasn't true. With damn near any other person, it would be true. I didn't want to sit and listen to their problems, especially if they were going to start being emotional about it. But if this was bothering Madden... "You're right," I agreed curtly. "I don't."
He just knots his fingers together, intertwining them anxiously. "I'm sorry I brought it up."
I hated this. There was something bothering him and he wasn't himself. Whatever was going on was making him sad. And I hated that. Worse, he kept apologizing. Like he had done something wrong.
My jaw tightens, teeth-gritting. "Stop that," I snarled.
He frowned. "What did I do?"
"Stop apologizing," I hissed. "It's weird."
He opened his mouth but held his tongue. "I'll stop," he said softly.
"And stop looking so...sad," I muttered. "It's throwing me off."
Madden blinks a few times seeming to pause. Then a small smirk plays at his lips and wrapping his arms around my neck, he stared teasingly at me. "Was that a hint of empathy, Professor Castien?"
I glared down at him. "Shut up."
"It was!" he said with a grin.
"Just...shut up," I sighed, running a hand through my hair.
"Don't worry about me." I would've scoffed. I could've come up with a thousand different snide remarks.
He sits up a bit straighter. I tensed up feeling his lips pressed gently against my cheek. His face was so close and for a second I just stared, admiring the curves of his face. "You're wearing glasses," he murmured, his lips an inch from mine.
My eyes narrowed. "What is your kink with these glasses?"
"The kink isn't the glasses," he hummed "The kink is when the hot professor in the glasses, slams me against the wall and fucks me until I can't walk."
And he was back to normal now. I made a face and Madden smiles. "You still don't believe me."
I scowled. "You're delusional and you talk too much."
He chuckled, resting his head down on my collarbone. "Admit it, professor. You're warming up to me."
I scoffed. "Brat."
His eyes closed, tension leaving his body. "I missed you."
I suck in a breath. "It's been two weeks," I said, trying to sound annoyed.
"I know," he mumbled. "I just....it's been a long two weeks, Avery."
I still wanted to know why the fuck he had been so absent this week, but I didn't ask. Because he was falling asleep now. In my arms. As he should.
(a/n: i apologize in advance for the next chapter. don kill me, k?)