I had wanted him from the moment I laid eyes on him. It was like a raw, desperate need.
It was fucking infuriating.
Nothing about this had been in any way civilized or controlled. It had been a complete loss of my instincts. I had fucked him raw and holy fuck, it had been every bit, if not better then I could’ve imagined.
Again, fucking infuriating.
What was it about this tiny human being that could cause him to lose all form of restraint he had?
For the past several months, since the moment he had sat down in my class, I had been plagued with images and fantasies of him, begging and squirming, and moaning for me. It was fucked up. What was even more fucked up was that when he had asked, I went through with it.
I never fucked students. It wasn’t a thing, ever. And most certainly not for a grade. So what the fuck had happened? Madden got on his knees and all those morals just flew out the window?
I had called him to my office to get him to drop my class. To end my misery of having to stare at something I couldn’t have. Quite literally, I had intended on bullying him into taking another course. That did not turn out the way I had expected.
I disposed of the condom, glad that at least one thing had happened right, and untied his hands. As soon as I had relinquished my grip on him, his limbs had buckled and he had fallen onto the bed. As usual, I was disgusted and very disturbed by what I saw. His face was pale and flushed, tears streaked down his cheeks and his eye puffy. Bites, bruises, and claw marks spotted across his perfect porcelain skin.
Fuck, what was wrong with me?
Not only had he done this to someone, that someone was his student. Who was 15 years younger than him.
Honestly, with someone who seemed as delicate both physically and emotionally as Madden was, I had expected to tap out immediately. The fact that he hadn’t didn’t make it right.
What was happening to me?
Madden’s eyes had slips closed in a matter of minutes since he had collapsed onto the bed. He was asleep.
My jaw clenched and I slid my arms carefully underneath him. I lifted him off of the bed and his eyes fluttered open as he looped his arms around my neck for support. “What are you doing?” he says sleepily.
I don’t bother answering. Instead, I carried him down the hall and set him down on the bed. My bed. In my bedroom. “Just go back to sleep,” I demanded.
He didn’t need much convincing, his eyes closing again. I left him, unwilling to stare at his angelically beautiful sleeping form and the harsh contrast of the marks I had left on him. I had marked him. Like marking your property.
I forced myself to get dressed and retire to my study to at least get some work done and not overthink what I just did.
About two hours later the door to my study opened a small crack and I rubbed my temples, preparing for a nightmare. Madden sees me and gently closes the door, padding over to me, his bare feet treading lightly over the wooden floorboards. He was wearing a shirt that reached his mid-thighs. My shirt. I had left him in my bedroom, I wasn’t sure what I had expected. His hair was tousled slightly but brushed to one side as if he had run a hand through it and his eyes were slightly hooded as I assumed, he just woke up.
I took off my glasses, folding them and setting them down on my desk, turning warily to him. “What?”
He shakes his head softly, climbing into my lap. I scowled, unsure where he was going with this. Madden didn’t take up that much space but as he sat in my lap, letting his legs dangle over the edge of the chair, he rests his head against my chest and closed his eyes. “Ignore me,” he mumbles.
I glared at him. How the fuck was that supposed to go? I could’ve just pushed him onto the floor and yet, he looked so peaceful with his eyes closed. I wasn’t heartless.
“Why don’t you just go to sleep?” I sighed. I was too fucking tired for this. For him. For the stupid thoughts that he made me think.
“Can’t sleep,” he said, despite his already closed eyes and his soft, sleepy tone.
“You’re falling asleep right now,” I said dryly.
“Because you’re here,” he said quietly. “Please don’t make me go back.”
I swallowed. Was I just supposed to say no to that? “Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “Can you be quiet?”
He nods, biting his lip and pressing himself against my torso.
I let him stay while I finished working. By the time I was done, he was asleep again. I had known he was pretty, otherwise, this whole thing wouldn’t have happened but it was different when he was asleep. He had an ethereal look, lips were still red, wet and parted ever so slightly. His pale skin seemed to give off a faint glow and his lashes swept low, fanning out underneath his eyes. Down to the slope of his nose and the curve of his cupid’s bow, he was ridiculously beautiful.
I considered leaving him in another one of the guest bedrooms and but for some reason, that idea did not appeal to me. I carried him back to my bedroom, yet again, except this time he didn’t wake up. I didn’t blame him. I had worn him out pretty well. But he wasn’t running and screaming from here.
He had done that all just to pass my class? Really?
When I got into the bed with him, his arms almost immediately wrapped around my torso and my eyes widened. My first instinct was to just force his hands away from me, but I...didn’t want to.
I hadn’t gotten a chance to ask if he was okay but from the way he was acting now, he seemed fine. Content, even. Like he had enjoyed it. I sighed, absentmindedly running my fingers through his hair. And I slept, peacefully with Madden wrapped around me.
When I woke up, Madden was still untangled against me, half on top of me and half wrapped around me. His arms were tightly secured around my waist and his head rested on my chest.
I didn’t particularly want to wake him up, but there was no way of me getting out of bed unless I unraveled him from me. Luckily, I didn’t have to wake him up. As soon as I tried lifting one of his arms away from me, one of his eyes opening ever so slightly. He blinked several times, confused and probably still half asleep.
“You have to let go of me,” I muttered. To my surprise, he pouts, sticking out his bottom lip. But, still, he unwraps himself from me.
I climbed out of bed, and got dressed at least halfway decently, and left him on my bed.
I cooked breakfast and about 20 minutes later, Madden slowly walks into the kitchen looking very, very puzzled, and frowning. The frown created a slight crease between his eyebrows that gave off the effect that he was a small child who just lost his ice cream. As annoying as it was that he had such an effect on me, he was adorable.
I could’ve expected him to say a million things but he said, “You cook?” His voice was soft but still held all his shock and disbelief.
I almost smiled at that. “Yes.”
“You don’t cook,” he states flatly.
I turned to him, leaning against the counter of the kitchen island and peering at him curiously. “Why don’t I cook?”
“I-” He seemed to pause before shaking his head. “I need to process this. Give me a sec.”
I turned back and finish pushing the food off of the pan and onto two plates. I walk past him and into the dining room setting the plates down on the table. Madden follows after me still looking confused. “Sit,” I said lightly.
He sits. “Okay, you’re...single?”
Wow. I did not expect that. I suppressed a look of surprise and I pursed my lips before giving him a nod. “Okay,” he repeats. “How?”
I blink. Then I blinked again before scowling. “How am I supposed to answer that?” I said dryly.
He flushed, ducking his head. “Sorry,” he mutters. “Just...this is scary.”
“Of all the things that happened, this is the scary part?” I scoffed.
Madden smirks. “If you want to make me regret it, you’re going to have to try harder then that, professor.” I glowered at him and he offers me a smile. “It’s just really weird to see you act so normal,” he explains.
I arch a brow at him, unsure what exactly he meant by that. “Normal,” I echoed.
“Yeah,” he nods. “Everyone at school kind of treats you like you’re some untouchable god or something. Everyone’s scared of you for some reason.”
And I’d like it to stay that way. “And you’re not?” I didn’t quite believe that. He couldn’t possibly not be scared of me. Especially after what I did to him last night.
“Well,” he bites his lip, pondering it. “A little. But not that much anymore.”
I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “Why?” I ask, staring at him. His hair wasn’t the neatest, but it seemed to have been lightly brushed through. His entire aura at the current moment was very relaxed and at ease. Nothing like how it was last night when he first got to my house.
“I...I don’t think you’re that scary anymore, that’s all.”
No. There was something more to it than that. But as curious as I was, I forced myself not to ask. “Eat,” I commanded gesturing to the food I had put in front of him.
I could tell he wanted to make another comment about me cooking, but he held his tongue. “Yes, sir,” he mumbled, picking up his fork.
Those words alone, coming from him made me suppress a groan. He had been so compliant and so submissive. And he had seemed too small and fragile that I was so tempted just to see how far I could push him before he snapped in half. It was a satisfying feeling, despite the hint of remorse I felt when I saw just all the marks I had left on his skin that had still lasted.
What had been weirdest of all was that as much as he had cried and whimpered, he had edged me to keep going. Like he wanted more. Like he wasn’t being mangled.
I’m all yours.
I was going to have fun playing with him.
He had no idea what he was talking about when he said that.