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"Ross?" Barry asks from across the dorm.
"Yeah?" Ross asks in response, not bothering to look up from his DS. He's so close to beating this level on Shovel Knight that he can't afford be distracted.
"Don't you have class in, like, ten minutes?"
He pauses the game and glances at the clock hanging on the wall above Barry's head before orienting his gaze back at the screen. He's so close to that last checkpoint... "Yeah, but it's okay. I can be a little late."
If he'd been looking up, then he would have seen the less-than-impressed look that passes across Barry's face. "Don't you have Professor Wecht for this class?"
"Yeah?"
"Dude, Professor Wecht is, like, one of the worst professors that you could be late for. He's gonna slaughter you."
Ross snorts, hitting the last checkpoint and finally standing. "Professor Wecht is all talk. The dude is crazy boring. He just tries to intimidate people."
Still, he has about six minutes to get to class and he hasn't even left the dorm. Thankfully, the science wing isn't too far from their section of the campus, and, if Ross hurries, then he can probably make it there in about ten minutes. He clacks his DS closed, making sure to leave the game paused so that he can resume it in class if things get especially boring - which is practically a guarantee when it comes to Professor Wecht's classes. He toes on his sneakers, grabs his backpack, and speeds out of the door into the busy hallway. All the while, Barry shakes his head like a disapproving mother hen.
Even though Ross races across campus as fast as he can without looking like a total idiot or bumping into people every ten seconds, he doesn't arrive to his physics class until five minutes after it's started. He takes a moment in the hall to catch his breath, trying not to look like a sweaty mess, before he shoulders his backpack and peeks through the small window on the door that looks into the classroom.
He can see Professor Wecht already at the podium at the front of the lecture hall, probably droning on endlessly about shit that Ross barely understands. He sees him motion toward the board and knows that he should really get inside and at least pretend to be taking notes.
He takes a breath, steeling himself for the moment when all eyes will focus on him, and opens the door, trying to slink inside as casually as possible. He avoids eye contact with Professor Wecht as he makes a beeline for the back of the lecture hall, hoping that, if he's fast and silent, then no one will notice that he's late.
He knows that it isn't working, though. He can feel the piercing weight of Professor Wecht's gaze on his back, practically pinning Ross to the wall behind him.
He keeps moving, shuffling to a seat near the back and dropping into it. His heart is beating quickly from his sprint and the nerves that come with entering the room late, but he calms as he settles into his seat. Professor Wecht is talking about something that goes completely over his head, but he figures that he can catch up if he gets his textbook out. He glances at the kid next to him's open book, trying to place exactly where they are in the chapter.
He unzips his backpack, digging around inside of it for the hulking mass of paper that makes up his pricey physics textbook. As he pulls his textbook out, he realizes that he'd tucked his DS into his backpack to continue his Shovel Knight quest. He realizes too late, though, and watches with wide eyes as his precious DS topples out of his bag and lands with a loud clatter against the floor.
He winces, watching as every head in the hall turn toward him, trying to seek out the source of the sound. At the front of the hall, Professor Wecht's eyes narrow.
"Mr. O'Donovan," he says, voice stern and cold, "if you must come late to my class late, then the least that you can do is not create a racket as you try to play catch-up."
Ross frowns, scooping up his DS and dropping it back into his bag, and nods, feeling his insides quiver with embarrassment and the urge to explain himself.
"Sorry, Professor Wecht, I - "
Professor Wecht raises a hand, effectively silencing him. "I don't want to hear your excuses, Mr. O'Donovan. You're consistently late to my class. I know that you think that you don't need this class, that it isn't important because you're an animation major, but consider this: there are people here who do want to learn. You could at least try to think of them."
Ross feels heat rise to his cheeks. A few people around him nod in agreement, some snickering quietly under their breaths. It's true that Ross is only in this class because he needs his science requirement met, but that doesn't mean that he actively tries to disrupt the class. As he glances around the room, he catches his fellow classmates glancing at him, looks in their eyes similar to the hardened one that Professor Wecht's giving him.
His face practically burns as he realizes just how much of an odd man out he is. He's not a genius, a brainiac like Professor Wecht or half of the students in this class. He's an animator who excels in his technical classes. It's in this moment that he gets a glimpse of how these ace students must view him. They probably see him as an annoyance, an idiot who can't get his shit together.
Ross frowns, his jaw tight, but Professor Wecht has already resumed his lecture, picking up exactly where he'd left off without missing a beat. Ross feels embarrassed. He feels stupid. He longs to wipe the smug look off of Professor Wecht's face.
--
Class can't end quickly enough for Ross. He stays silent for the remainder, mindlessly copying text from the board without drinking it in, the same going for Professor Wecht's voice prattling on around him. It pisses him off that he has to sit here and listen to Professor Wecht ramble on after what an asshole he was to him. Right now, all that he wants to do is slip into a hole in the ground and hide for a bit while he tries to figure out the easiest way to drop this class without his parents finding out.
He packs his shit up the second that Professor Wecht stops talking and keeps his head down as he waits for half of the students to file out before merging into the herd of bodies moving down the stairs. He's not sure if Professor Wecht had intended on speaking to him, maybe even apologizing to him (though the idea seems laughable), but Ross isn't going to stick around to find out.
Professor Wecht's physics class is Ross's last class of the day, so the rest of his night is open. He's free to do whatever he chooses, which should be homework but might end up being animating or beating Barry's ass at Smash Brothers for the hundredth time.
Speaking of Barry, his class had ended thirty minutes before Ross's. Ross leans against a brick wall outside and pulls his phone out of his pocket to tap out a text to him.
Hey, man, are you at home?
Ross scans the campus. It's slow right now, low foot traffic, as most people have just arrived to their evening classes. Not thirty seconds later, Ross's phone chimes, signaling Barry's reply.
I'm at Chubs with Dan and Arin. Want to come?
Ross grins. Chubs is the local pizza place just off-campus. The food isn't incredible, but they pull business by offering decently-sized pizza for broke-college-student prices. Ross had to admit that he's pretty obsessed with the restaurant, and a nice, greasy piece of pizza sounds perfect right now.
I'll be right there.
--
Fifteen minutes later, Ross plops into a seat at the circular table between Arin and Barry. The restaurant is fairly crowded - it usually is around dinner time - and the clatter of the other customers and the cooks shouting from the back are doing well to distract Ross's addled mind.
"Hey, man," Arin says, smiling at Ross.
"Hey," Ross replies, not exactly forcing a smile - he's happy to see his friends - but not exactly in the best mood right now, either, the sting of Professor Wecht embarrassing him in front of the whole class having not yet faded.
"How's your animation coming?" Arin asks.
"What?" Ross asks, distracted by trying to decide what to order, though, most of the time, he gets the same thing: a huge slice of mac and cheese pizza.
"You know, our big animation project that's due in, oh, three weeks?"
"Oh, that," Ross says, setting down his menu. "It's going okay. You?"
Arin shrugs. "I can't complain."
"Yeah," Dan cuts in, "you can't complain to him, but you'll call me at three in the morning bitching about Adobe Animator."
Arin rolls his eyes, flashing Dan a charming smile. "Are you telling me that you don't enjoy our late night chats?"
"I'm telling you that I like to sleep."
Arin is an animation major like Ross, the two of them taking several of the same classes, including the one this semester where a heaping animation project is due in a few weeks' time.
Dan is a music major with a minor in music therapy. He doesn't share any classes with the rest of them - at least, not this semester. A few semesters ago, Dan and Arin had shared a public speaking class. They'd been paired up for one assignment and were practically inseparable from that moment on.
A waiter comes around to take their orders. True to his word, Ross orders a slice of mac and cheese pizza, the others going for more standard fare.
Once the waiter walks away, Barry focuses on Ross. "Were you late to class or, by some miracle, did you make it on time?" he asks.
Ross sighs, pouting slightly. He doesn't want to talk about what had happened in class, the embarrassment still making his face hot, still rolling around in his stomach like a lead ball. He can't shake the quiet snickering that he'd heard coming from the other students, the way that they'd all seemed to agree with Professor Wecht that Ross didn't belong there, wasn't one of them.
"I was late," Ross says, "but Professor Wecht is an asshole!"
"Well, yeah," Arin says. "Everyone knows that. He's tough as shit."
"Which is why you should probably get to his class on time," Barry adds.
Ross shrugs. "The class is stupid. I don't even get why we're required to take a science course. When the fuck am I going to need to do physics while I'm animating?"
His friends shrug. It's just one of those things, a rule that may not make any sense but still exists. No, he probably won't ever need to use physics, but he still needs a science credit to move forward in his program.
He's still feeling pissy and a little vulnerable, like the whole restaurant knows what had happened and can see his insecurities. Ross hates that feeling, like he's broadcasting every single thought in his mind.
He feels a little better once he eats, the conversation easy between him and his friends. He's been roommates with Barry for close to two years now. He'd met Arin on his very first day of university in his very first animation class. Dan had come a little later, but he and Ross are just as close as he and Barry or Arin.
Ross finishes his pizza, leaning back in his chair and patting his stomach as he sighs. "I was thinking of heading to The Grind, grabbing a few beers. Anyone up for it?" He figures that a couple of drinks might clear his head, relax him, let him feel more normal, less pissed off at his asshole of a professor.
Barry frowns. "No go, man. Suzy and I are doing dinner tonight."
Ross pouts again. "I liked you better when you were single and desperately crushing on her."
Barry grins, reaching out to pat Ross's hand. "No, you didn't."
Okay, that's true. Barry moping around their dorm, all lovesick and convinced that Suzy, a fashion major, could never like him back, got to be tiring. At least he could get that Barry to go to the bar with him, though.
He turns his gaze to Arin and Dan, trying not to look as desperate as he feels.
"Sorry," Arin says. "I'm going to go back to the dorm and work on my animation project. Otherwise, I would, man."
"Dan?" Ross asks in what he hopes is his sweetest tone. Dan's mouth flattens and he can feel the impending excuse ready to leave his mouth. "Hey, remember the last time that we went? You got, like, fifteen free drinks."
Dan laughs. "Yeah, that you got to drink because I don't partake."
"Well, I mean, I enjoyed it." And he did. It was hilarious to see guy after guy stride up to Dan and hit on him, blatant and tinged with sexual offers, Dan's face turning bright red as he mumbled out in the nicest way possible that he wasn't interested. Arin hadn't found it as funny as Ross had, which Ross still doesn't fully understand but doesn't question.
"As much as I'd love to be able to score your ass free drinks all night, I'm going to stay in and just relax, you know?" His gaze shifts from Ross to Arin for a moment, barely noticeable.
Ross sighs. "You guys are literally the most boring people that I know."
--
Ross ends up going to The Grind alone. The club is a short distance into town, tucked in among the other bars and nightlife spots in their college town. He always comes here because...well, the most important reason is that there are hot guys willing to buy him free drinks. It helps that they're one of the only bars around that doesn't bother to check ID.
Ross had first heard about The Grind during his freshman year of college. It was at a frat party that Mark had invited them to. Well, he had invited Arin, but Ross had tagged along. The frat guys had been running down a list of places to drink and places to avoid drinking. They had labeled The Grind somewhere in between. The pros were that they didn't card and that the security was lax. The con - to them, at least - was that it was a gay bar. That didn't bother Ross, however. In fact, he was glad for it. Since then, the bar had been a regular thing for him on weekends and stressful days.
He flags down Vernon, the bartender. The bar isn't too busy, so Ross doesn't really have to fight for his attention.
"Ross! Hey! What can I get you?"
"Just a beer," Ross says, slapping down his cash onto the counter.
Vernon nods, taking the cash and going to fetch Ross his drink. While he waits, he looks at the crowd of people mingling around the club, looking for anyone that he might recognize. More than once, he's spotted someone here - a classmate, a friend of a friend - and he can always tell by the looks on their faces whether or not they wanted to be spotted.
He already feels better being here, more relaxed. He lets the pulse of anger and embarrassment sink lower in his stomach. Vernon returns with his beer and Ross smiles gratefully, the tang of the alcohol only helping to ease his mood.
As he drinks his beer, he pads around the club. It's good-sized, small tables and chairs off to the right side, a dance floor in the middle, and, to the left, soft, velvety couches that Ross tries really hard not to sit on thanks to some advice from Vernon.
The bar is dim as he skates around the edge of the crowd, not quite ready to engage. He sort of wants to turn his mind off more than he wants to interact with anyone, but drinking alone in his dorm hadn't seemed all that appealing, so he'd ended up here.
As he winds a corner, he catches a snippet of conversation, something about the new Star Wars movie, and his ears perk up. He can totally get in on that! He heads toward the voices, intent on trying to find a way into the conversation, when, suddenly, a new voice speaks, the rough but light cut of it slicing through him like a cold knife.
He freezes before pressing himself against the nearest wall and scanning the area where he'd heard the voice.
"I mean, I was worried that it wouldn't live up to the classics, but I really enjoyed it," says the cool, calculated voice of Professor Wecht.
Ross is finally able to make him out. He's seated on the edge of a dark chair, turned sideways as he talks to another man and a young woman. He's not wearing the same dull suit and dress shirt that he'd worn to class; no, he's got a simple black t-shirt and some worn jeans on. He looks so casual and relaxed, his face opening up into a smile as he laughs at something that the woman says. He hadn't even fucking thought that Professor Wecht was capable of laughter.
He leans against the wall and takes a swig of his beer. He can feel his stomach roll as he remembers what had happened today, how this asshole had embarrassed him, made him feel inferior. Why did the very reason that Ross was here drinking tonight have to be directly in front of him? He was trying so hard to forget the incident and seeing Professor Wecht does nothing but bring it back to the forefront of his mind.
Why is Professor Wecht here, anyway? The Grind certainly doesn't seem like the kind of scene that he'd enjoy. Ross would have figured that the stuffy professor would consider it too loud, too lowbrow for his liking. And doesn't Professor Wecht know that this is a gay bar? He must, judging by the amount of flirting and hook-ups happening around them. Does that mean...
...that Professor Wecht is gay?
He tries not to jump to conclusions because he's dragged Barry, Arin, and Dan here before and none of them are hooking up with other guys at the rate that Ross is when they come here. Maybe Professor Wecht is straight. Maybe he came here with friends. Maybe the woman next to him is his girlfriend or fiancee or wife.
That pisses him off even more. Here he is, trying to relax, and fucking Professor Wecht is here, invading his territory.
He watches quietly, not daring to move, like Professor Wecht might be able to detect him even in the darkness of the bar. The woman nods at the Professor and the other man before slipping away, disappearing around the table. The other man smiles at Professor Wecht, something soft and warm, and Ross arches an eyebrow, his stomach beginning to roll again. The other man's hand finds Professor Wecht's arm, fingers curling around a well-defined forearm, something that Ross had never noticed in class before. Professor Wecht returns the other man's smile and leans in close to whisper something into his ear. The other man nods.
Ross is frozen as he watches the two men get up from the table before he moves to avoid running directly into Professor Wecht. He'd already gotten chewed out for interrupting his class. He can only imagine what would happen if he'd accidentally cock-blocked him.
The nearest place for Ross to hide is the bathroom of the bar. He's quick to head inside, ducking into a stall, his beer still in hand. His mind spins, not really from the fact that, apparently, Professor Wecht is gay, but more because Professor Wecht is about to get fucking laid. Knowing that doesn't actually bother Ross as much as he thinks it should. It's just...surprising.
He waits fifteen minutes, polishing off his bottle of beer in the bathroom stall before figuring it safe enough to travel back out into the main area of the bar. He scans the area, but Professor Wecht and the man that he was with are nowhere to be found, so he relaxes, setting his beer bottle onto the bar counter. Vernon is busier than he had been when Ross had gone to hide; otherwise, he might have tried to scoop some information off of him, might have tried to see if he knew anything about Professor Wecht visiting the club prior to tonight.
It's the second time that day that Professor Wecht has managed to fuck up Ross's mood. He feels thrown off, the club suddenly feeling too loud. Ross longs to be at home, tucked under his blankets and watching crap shows on Netflix, and he ends up leaving the club much earlier than usual.
--
The whole walk back to campus, his mind feels like it's bursting open. Professor Wecht has always seemed so uptight, so ridged, like, to gain that vast intelligence, he had to give up the part of his brain that made him any fun. Clearly, Ross had misjudged. Professor Wecht certainly seemed to be enjoying himself tonight.
Ross arrives back at his dorm. It's empty, Barry still out with Suzy. Maybe that's for the best. The information inside of Ross is practically burning a hole through him; if Barry were home, then Ross isn't sure that he'd even make it two steps inside before confessing what he'd seen at the club.
The knowledge plagues him even as he flops into bed, opening Netflix and queuing up the shows that he'd been working his way through. He has studying that he could be doing, homework that he should definitely be doing, but he can't shake the strange feeling swirling through him. Hell, he can barely focus on the show that's playing on his laptop.
Professor Wecht had seemed like a totally different person tonight at the bar, a world away from the stuffy man who had embarrassed him in class that day. What pisses Ross off, what has him thrown, even if he doesn't want to admit it, is that the Professor Wecht who he saw in the club is the kind of guy who Ross finds himself drawn to. He realizes abruptly that the odd feeling inside of him almost feels like jealousy.
Ross shakes his head. No, no, Professor Wecht is an asshole. He embarrassed Ross, made him feel like shit. It doesn't matter that he has a nice smile, that he looked almost too good in that simple, black t-shirt.
Ross can't help his thoughts from wandering. He imagines where Professor Wecht took the man who he'd left the club with. He sees flashes of an imaginary scene playing before his eyes, Professor Wecht rucking the man's shirt up, going for his belt with swift hands, blue-gray eyes practically burning as he smirks and promises the man the fuck of his life.
Ross gasps when he realizes that he's getting hard in his sweatpants. He forces himself out of the scenario, erasing any thought of Professor Wecht and what he might be doing (or had already done) tonight. It didn't matter. Not to Ross. That's what he tells himself, anyway.
Hours later, Ross starts nodding off in front of his laptop. He finally decides to go to bed, shutting his laptop and setting it gently onto the floor. He rolls over onto his stomach, his cock still twitching with interest, a curiosity that he flat-out refuses to explore.
--
"What are you doing?" Barry asks.
"Um," Ross says, looking down at his bowl of cereal and then back up at Barry, "eating?"
Barry rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I can see that. I meant, why are you still in your pajamas? You have class today, right?"
Ross nods. "Professor Dickface again. I'm not going."
Ross had made up his mind that morning. He was going to skip his physics class. The thought of showing his face there again is currently not at all appealing.
Barry frowns, a hand rising to his hip in a near-perfect impression of Ross's mother.
"You know, if you don't go to class, then you're just showing them that they were right, that you don't belong there."
Ross takes a big bite of his cereal and shrugs. "Maybe I don't. I don't want to be in that class with those eggheads and stuck-up snobs who think that they're better than everyone else."
Barry sighs. "You'll just end up taking another science course next semester."
"Yeah," Ross says around his mouthful of cereal, "a different class with a better professor."
Barry is still frowning, but, if his time living with Ross has taught him anything, it's that Ross is ungodly stubborn and it's better to let shit drop than to run around in circles arguing with him. Ross isn't going to class, but Barry still has to. Fifteen minutes later, he's shouldering his backpack and throwing Ross a worried glance as he slips out of the door.
What Ross hadn't told Barry is that skipping class is only step one. Step two would come later this evening.
Even though Ross is skipping Professor Wecht's class today, he still goes to his animation class that afternoon, nabbing his usual spot next to Arin.
"Wow, you've got a lot done so far," Ross says as Arin plays some frames of his animation for him.
Arin beams, full of pride and excitement over his project. He points at a handsome and slender male character on screen. "I'm thinking that Dan will voice this guy," Arin says. "I kinda talked to him about it. He seemed really into the idea. He might sing the theme song, too."
"Cool," Ross says, and he means it, even if he twinges with jealousy a little at how much Arin has done already. Ross may slack in some of his other classes, but he tries not to when it comes to animation and drawing.
Ross throws himself into his work, trying to get the most done during class that he can, Arin working next to him, occasionally giggling at his phone as he texts someone, someone that Ross is fairly sure is named Dan.
By the time that class gets over, it's late. Ross pads back to his dorm to drop off his backpack. Barry is home, Suzy visiting their dorm. The two of them are cuddled on the couch, Barry's arm draped delicately over Suzy's shoulders, her feet tucked under Barry's thigh.
They're so cute that Ross is sure that he could just puke...or roll his eyes...or both.
"Hey, Ross," Barry says, smiling brightly. He always smiles seventy-five percent more than usual when he's with Suzy.
"Hey, guys."
"We ordered some Chinese. There's extra if you want some," Suzy says, her own smile wide.
"Aw, thanks, Suzy," Ross says. He does help himself to some of the couple's shared meal.
He doesn't stick around the dorm long, though, finishing his plate of food and darting into the bathroom to check his reflection before heading to the front door.
"You leaving?" Barry asks. Suzy's got her head pillowed on Barry's shoulder, looking extra comfortable. Ross figures they’ll appreciate the alone time without Ross interrupting them or playing the third wheel.
"Yeah," Ross says as he toes on his sneakers. "Just going to have some beers. I'll be back soon."
The couple nods at him, bidding him quick goodbyes as he slips out of the door.
--
He walks the familiar path from campus to the city, back to The Grind, ready to put the second part of his plan for the night into action. As soon as he slips into the club, he starts looking around, eyes sweeping the low black tables for a familiar face, broad shoulders, a laugh that shouldn't be as bright as it is. Mild disappointment fills him as he finds the tables nearly deserted. He had plotted out his time between class and stopping at the dorm, planning so that he'd arrive at the bar right around the same time as he had the night before.
Ross sighs and slips to the counter, happy to see Vernon working again tonight.
"Back so soon?" Vernon asks as he spots Ross.
Ross shrugs and orders the same beer that he had last night. "What can I say? It grows on you."
Vernon smiles and brings Ross his beer. Just like the night before, Ross leans against the counter and scans the area around him. That same disappointment rushes inside of him like a thick jet of water as he doesn't find what he's looking for...or who he's looking for.
Suddenly, he hears a voice from down the bar.
"Can I get a gin and tonic?"
Ross peers around the guy next to him and looks down the bar, greeted by the near-instant sight of salt-and-pepper hair, a relaxed smile that still seems out of place. His heartbeat quickens. Professor Wecht. Ross had been hoping that he'd find the professor here again, hoping that he'd have a chance to do what he should have done the night before instead of being a fucking wuss and hiding in the bathroom.
Ross swallows thickly, slugging down half his beer, his heart thumping in his chest. He had gone through it all in his head on the walk over - what he'd say, how he'd really give Professor Wecht a piece of his mind, how he'd tell him how goddamned unprofessional it was to make one of his students feel like shit.
Ross knows that, if he doesn’t move now, then he'll lose his nerve. He sets his nearly empty beer bottle on the counter and pushes himself away from his stool, moving quickly, thanking whatever God that's looking out for him that he has the upper hand, that he can stage an ambush.
"Hey, Professor Wecht," Ross says, sharp and rough, and Professor Wecht turns in surprise, an eyebrow cocked.
Ross takes in the genuine shock on Professor Wecht’s face at finding Ross here. Perfect! That's just what he had wanted. See, Ross had known that Professor Wecht would be here, but Professor Wecht had had no damn idea that Ross also frequented the bar, that he knew that the professor comes here, too.
"Mr. O'Donovan. Nice to see you," Professor Wecht says, playing calm. It frustrates Ross that he can barely detect the nerves that he so desperately wants to see.
"Oh, is it? You could have fooled me," Ross says, his heart thumping quickly against his ribs. He's running on adrenaline, the pulse of anger that's building up inside of him as he finally confronts his asshole professor.
Professor Wecht sips at his drink before setting it down on the bar counter, turning his broad body to face Ross better. "You seem upset, Ross."
Ross is taken aback slightly by Professor Wecht using his name, dropping the formalities so fast. He hadn't even been aware that the professor remembered his first name.
"I am," Ross says, "because you're a shit fucking teacher."
Professor Wecht barely flinches at Ross's harsh tone. He barely bats a fucking eye. Ross can feel himself getting angrier.
"That's not the first time that I've heard that, believe it or not."
"Oh, really? You embarrass other students of yours in front of the entire class? Or am I just that lucky?"
Professor Wecht sighs, dragging a hand through his graying hair. "Oh, that," he says. Ross's heart is beating so loudly, blood rushing in his ears as his professor frowns up at him. "I was actually hoping to see you in class today to talk with you about that."
Ross is surprised. Professor Wecht had noticed that he hadn't come to class? The science class was huge and Ross usually sat near the back. He hadn't thought that Professor Wecht would notice or even care that Ross had skipped class today.
"Why? Wanted to berate me again?"
"Wanted to apologize is more like it," Professor Wecht says. "You're right. It was a shitty thing for me to do. I guess that I was frustrated. It's always hard to see students with so much potential not using it when you know that they could do so much better."
Ross can feel himself flush, can feel his chest quiver as the burst of confidence that he'd gotten begins to leave him. He holds firm, though, standing his ground. Wecht is the asshole here, not him.
"No offense, but I don’t need a fucking lecture about how I'm not doing my best in a class that has nothing to do with what I want for my future."
Professor Wecht nods. "I know that you aren't going into the sciences, but I do know that you are very bright, Ross. When I read your papers - the ones that you manage to turn in - I can sense that you could do wonders in my class if you'd just applied yourself."
Ross rolls his eyes. What had he expected? Professor Wecht is a teacher. Of course he's going to try to get Ross to actually do his damn work for the class. This isn't going the way that Ross had hoped. He'd wanted to embarrass Professor Wecht here at the bar the same way that Ross had been embarrassed in class, but it isn't panning out that way. Professor Wecht is being sincere, soft in a way that Ross has never seen him be before. It makes something warm slide into his chest.
"I'm sorry," Professor Wecht continues, "for making you feel bad. It was wrong of me. I do hope that you'll come back to class. You keep things...interesting."
Professor Wecht levels Ross with the same smile that Ross had caught sight of last night, and Ross feels both momentarily blinded and dizzy at the same time.
"Really? I was sure that you hated me."
"Looks can be very deceiving, Mr. O'Donovan," Professor Wecht says as he stands. Like this, he's taller than Ross, and his eyes burn into Ross's form. Ross feels his mouth go dry. Professor Wecht's tone is soft, warm, and Ross can feel the heat of it slide down to his crotch, making him tingle as the images from his imagination resurface.
"Professor - "
"You can call me Brian," Professor - no, Brian says. His voice is light but deep and Ross can feel his eyes flutter. What the fuck is happening to him? He came here to bitch Brian out, not fucking, what, be charmed by him.
"You come here often, Mr. O’Donovan?" Brian asks.
Ross's mouth is dry as he nearly whispers, "Ross. Call me Ross. I come here about as much as you do, apparently. I, ah, saw you last night. I saw you leave with a guy."
"A friend," Brian explains, his voice growing low, "who is sometimes more than a friend. Do you happen to find those here, too?"
Ross nods, aware of the slight tremble to his body. "Y - yeah."
Brian's eyes sweep over him in a totally new way, with a fire and intensity that Ross has never felt before. "I'll bet," Brian says, "that you have no trouble making friends here."
Ross's head swims as he goes back to those scenes from last night, the way that the strange man had curled his fingers around Brian's forearm, the absolute confidence that had radiated from Brian in waves.
"Not usually," Ross says, meeting Brian's gaze head-on, tipping his chin up, his heart beating wildly, like a bird in his chest, looking desperately for an escape route.
Brian reaches out with a firm hand, catching Ross's chin lightly and smiles. "Do you want to be my friend, Ross?"
Ross's heart stutters in his chest, but there's no hesitation as he nods.
"Yes."
Ross sees a smile bloom across Brian's face, and his hand leaves Ross's chin, sliding down to find Ross's hand. Brian takes Ross's hand in his own, holding it loosely, his palm rough and hot. Ross shivers, his mind reeling. What's happening? He had come here to get his revenge on Professor Wecht, but now all that he can think about is taking the role of the man in his imagination.
Ross is painfully aware of how he's half-hard in his jeans already, his heart thumping so loudly that he's sure that Brian can hear it even over the dull pulse of music that rumbles through the club. Ross has hooked up with guys from the bar before, going back to their places or his own. It isn't unusual. What is unusual is that this is his teacher. Ross is pretty sure that there's a firm rule at the college about not doing this exact thing.
"The bar has a back room," Brian is saying. "Fairly private."
Ross nods. It sounds a lot better than trying to sneak Professor Wecht into his dorm, and Ross isn't sure that he'd want to hook up at Brian's place.
Brian leads Ross through the club and back into a quiet, dim room. As soon as the door to the room closes, Brian advances, taking Ross's face in his large hands, tipping it up, and connecting their mouths in a fierce kiss. Brian kisses possessively, with an edge of hunger. Ross moans into the kiss, grunting as Brian backs them up against the nearest wall.
Ross's hands seek out Brian's forearms. How had he never noticed how muscled his professor is? His fingers curl over warm skin, clinging as the kiss deepens. Brian's tongue is urging Ross's mouth open and Ross obeys easily, letting Brian inside, the slick of their tongues meeting. The slight stubble of Brian's face scratches at Ross's cheeks. Ross is dizzy, all of the blood in his body rushing to his cock as he continues getting hard.
Brian is pressed against him and Ross would be more ashamed of his eager dick if Brian didn't move one hand from his face, letting it trail down Ross’s body before palming lightly over Ross's bulge. Ross groans into the kiss, his hips bucking up against Brian's hand, wanting more - more of a touch, more friction, more of whatever Brian is ready to give him.
Ross is aware of how crazy this is, how much of a bad idea it is, but he can't stop. He doesn't want to. Their mouths break to breathe, but Brian is nipping at his jaw, his neck, teeth grazing his throat, and Ross's hand finds the back of Brian's hair, fingers skating through the short strands.
"Have you ever hooked up here?" Brian asks as he straightens up, face to face with Ross, his hand still rubbing lightly at Ross's dick, working him up even more, making him even harder.
Ross shakes his head. "No, I... usually, it's at my place? Or theirs?"
Brian smirks, kissing Ross again, light and almost sweet, nearly tender.
"Then this should be interesting."
Brian's other hand slips down to join the first, one hand squeezing at Ross's hip, fingers slipping under the hem of Ross's t-shirt so that Brian's fingers can brush over warm skin. Brian's other hand moves up to the button on Ross's jeans, popping it quickly and tugging down the zipper with ease. Before Ross can even speak a word, Brian's hand is sliding inside of his opened pants, stroking Ross through the thin fabric of his boxers.
Brian's eyes are intense, studying Ross, and Ross feels pinned, feels so exposed but so turned on by how Brian's gaze is focused solely on him. Brian's fingers are skilled, Ross's cock twitching under his touch. They've barely begun and already Ross feels so hard, his dick leaking damp spots against the fabric of his boxers.
Ross tips his head back on a soft moan, exposing his throat, and then he feels the rasp of Brian's beard against sensitive skin, then a wet kiss to his throat.
"Are you going to let me fuck you?" Brian asks, slowing his hand so that he can get Ross to focus on him.
Ross's eyes fly open and he squeaks. This isn't what he's used to. Usually, he's the one topping, the one doing the fucking, and he hadn't really considered what the roles would be here. Now that he's thinking about it, he can't see Brian as anything but a top.
Ross's mouth goes dry. He does bottom sometimes, infrequently, but he isn't afraid of or uncomfortable with doing it. The thought of being opened up by Brian, being fucked by Brian, is enough to make Ross's knees go weak.
Ross nods. "Yes, fuck, okay."
Ross can feel Brian smiling against his throat, and then he pulls back, his hand leaving Ross's cock. Ross nearly sobs from the lack of Brian's touch, but the man doesn't make him wait long. He cups Ross's hips in his large hands and then, with ease, like Ross is weightless, he turns Ross around so that, suddenly, it's Ross’s front that's pressed to the wall, Ross's hands scrabbling for purchase against the smooth surface to support himself.
Brian's hands move and, without a second thought, Ross feels his jeans being tugged down to his ankles. Brian certainly moves fast, but maybe it comes with being sure of what he wants. Ross shivers because he knows that, right now, Brian wants him.
Brian's hands find Ross's ass again, cupping the warm weight of his cheeks, squeezing lightly at Ross's ass before he spreads Ross apart. Ross lets his forehead rest against the cool wall, breathing heavily already, anticipating Brian's touch. Everything is happening so fast, but Ross wants it, doesn't want to hesitate, like, maybe if he thinks about this too much, then it will all fall apart. Brian is still holding him open when Ross feels the sudden ghost of warm breath against his hole. He shivers in surprise.
"You're so cute," Brian says before quieting, dragging the flat of his tongue over Ross's asshole. Ross gasps. He wants to press back, but Brian's hands keep him centered. Brian's mouth is skilled, his tongue clever as it traces over the rim of muscle, not too fast, just slow enough to be teasing. Ross bites his lip, his body on fire, that heat centered where Brian's mouth is touching him.
"Ah, Br - Brian," Ross says.
Brian shifts and Ross feels the point of his tongue beginning to breech the ring of muscle, barely pressing inside of Ross's asshole. It's so delicious, so hot, and Ross can't help but let out a surprised moan.
Just as Ross is beginning to think that he could come just from having Brian's tongue lapping at his ass, his mouth is gone, that burning heat leaving him. Ross wants to sob.
"You're eager. It's okay. I won't make you wait, Ross."
Ross's head spins as he hears the plastic snap of a cap. He hadn't even thought about how the room is probably pre-stocked with lube and rubbers, how clear it is that everyone knows what this room is used for. Before he knows it, Ross can feel Brian's thick fingers rubbing so slick and wet at his entrance. Ross's eyes flutter and he groans, beginning to press back against Brian's touch, eager for more. His head swims. He almost feels drunk despite barely drinking even a quarter of his beer.
Brian's fingers trace that same path his tongue had taken, teasing the rim of muscle of Ross's asshole. Ross presses his forehead to the wall, his chest heaving with arousal. Against the wall, he can feel the distant thump of the music from the main room of the bar seeping into his skin, vibrating down into his bones. Brian presses one finger inside, working Ross open, and Ross shudders, letting out a soft moan.
"You're so tight," Brian says, "and it's just my fingers. Can't wait to feel you stretched around my cock, Ross."
Ross groans at the thought, his body so desperate and hungry for Brian's cock to fill him up. Already, he knows that it will better than anyone else whose fucked him before. Brian's got one finger inside of him, thrusting easily, and Ross wriggles back against the digit, trying to get more. He wants more.
Brian presses a hand against Ross's lower back, stilling his movements with a firm hold.
"I'll give you more, sweetheart."
Brian's second finger joins the first and he moves a little faster, just brushing the edge of rough as he starts to move two slick fingers in and out of Ross.
"F - fuck," Ross whimpers.
"That good?" Brian asks, his mouth against Ross's shoulder, pressing a kiss there, mouthing through his t-shirt. "My fingers feel good inside of your needy little ass?"
Ross's eyes are screwed shut, Brian's fingers fucking into him in a way that has Ross seeing stars. He takes a shaky breath and slides a hand down his body, seeking out his own throbbing dick and giving himself a squeeze, stroking his shaft slowly, rubbing his thumb over the wet head of his cock.
"Professor Wecht, please," Ross begs, the name slipping out of him without him even realizing.
"Fuck," Brian practically growls behind Ross.
The fingers are gone and Ross is distantly aware of the crinkle of a condom wrapper. His face is so hot, flushed with need and slight embarrassment. The plastic snap of the lube sounds out again and it's only a second before Ross feels the thick, blunt head of Brian's cock pressing at his entrance, rubbing against his opening.
One of Brian's hands opens against Ross's hip, squeezing tight. Brian is close again, his chin pressing against Ross's shoulder.
"You ready to take me inside of you? Ready for me to fuck you, Mr. O'Donovan?"
Ross moans at Brian talking to him in that firm, almost smug voice laced with arousal.
"P - Please," Ross breathes against the wall, rutting his hips back and feeling Brian's cock rub at him, slick and thick and absolutely perfect. "I want it, holy shit, please."
Brian huffs a laugh into Ross's shoulders. "You're being so slutty right now," he says. "A cute little slut."
With his hand braced on Ross's hips, Brian starts to press inside of him. Ross moans, trembling at the feeling of Brian breeching him, at how big the other man feels already. Ross's head spins, but he stays still, letting Brian work into him inch by inch.
"Jesus," Brian grunts once he's inside nearly all of the way, staying perfectly still so that Ross can adjust to the feeling of him.
"You're so fucking tight, just squeezing at me. You really haven't been fucked much, have you?"
Ross shakes his head, forehead against the cool wall as he pants. Brian feels so good there, filling him up, and Ross is so turned on, almost mindless already.
"U - Usually, I'm the one doing the fucking."
Brian's hand moves from Ross's hip and begins inching up the smooth skin of Ross's stomach up under the fabric of his t-shirt. Brian rocks his hips, beginning to move inside of Ross. Brian's fingertips slide over Ross's nipples, brushing light and teasing.
"I'll take care of you, Ross, don't worry."
Brian pulls out nearly all of the way before pushing back inside smoothly and completely, and Ross moans louder than he has all night. Brian's teeth dig into his shoulder through his t-shirt before Ross feels him pressing a kiss to his ear.
"Quiet, Mr. O'Donovan...unless you want everyone to know that we're back here." Brian sets an easy pace and Ross whines as he bites his lip, eyes fluttering, head spinning at the heat of Brian's body against his, Brian inside of him, filling him, fucking him. "Is that it, huh? You want everyone to know exactly what's happening in here? You want the whole club to know that I'm fucking your sweet little ass? That, right now, you belong to me?"
Ross whimpers, wishing that he could turn and kiss Brian again, to press against him and hold on, but he's left pressed against the wall. Brian's hands slide down to Ross's hips, gripping tightly, firmly, squeezing with the promise of leaving marks behind. Brian uses Ross as leverage to start fucking him harder, faster, and Ross's mouth falls open as he tries to bite back his noises.
"B - Brian," Ross pants. "Ah, fuck..."
"I knew that your cute little ass would feel so good," Brian says. "I fucking...I pictured it so many times. Watching you in class, watching you hiding in the back and playing that stupid little video game you bring with you...so many times I sat there and imagined what it would be like to bend you over a desk and fuck you so hard."
Ross moans and drops his head from the wall. Brian's fucking him with fast, quick thrusts of his hips that have Ross's body lurching with each movement, each thrust pressing him against the wall. He's practically trapped between the warmth of Brian's body and the cool surface of the wall. His cock is so hard, leaking. Now that Brian has mentioned it, Ross can't shake the idea, the thought of what it would be like to fuck Brian in his classroom.
Brian presses a kiss to the back of Ross's neck, thick fingers sliding into Ross's hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, and Ross chases the movement, turning his head back as far as he can. He can't quite see him, but Brian leans in, finds him, meets him halfway so that their mouths can slide together sloppily, messily, their teeth clicking because Brian's not stopping his fast, rhythmic pounding for even one second.
Ross feels all of his senses dwindling down to nothing, boiling down to just focusing on Brian's body and how he feels, how hot and firm and good it all is. Ross never knew that being fucked could feel this way. Clearly, college guys have no fucking clue what they're doing because every time Ross has bottomed it's never felt this way, never felt so good. Professor Wecht is taking him apart piece by piece and Ross is going out of his fucking mind.
Ross and Brian break their kissing to breathe. Ross is aware of how hard he is and how close he feels even though no one is touching his cock. His aching dick is trapped against the wall just like the rest of him.
"For someone who doesn't bottom much, you take cock like a fucking pro," Brian says. "Such a good little bottom for me, Ross."
Ross whimpers. "Br - Brian, I... I need..."
"Shh," Brian says, kissing Ross's shoulder again. "I know what you need."
Brian holds Ross's waist and tilts Ross's body, pulling him back slightly so that Ross's legs open a little wider, his hips tilted down. Ross has to scramble for purchase against the wall, hands open and bracing himself, his head hanging down between his shoulders. He can't touch himself now. If he moves a hand, then he'll lose his balance and topple over.
The next time that Brian thrusts inside of Ross, full and complete, the movement makes sense. Brian had titled Ross's body, changing the angle, so that the next time that Brian pushes inside, his cock finds that spot inside of Ross that makes his whole body jerk.
"S - shit!" Ross moans, loud, surprised. His whole body is trembling, shaking.
Brian is relentless even here, thrusting into him so fast and hard and hitting that delicious spot each time. Ross tries to press back, but he can't move, locked by Brian's hands. He can only shiver and cry out, no longer in the right mind to even attempt to hold back his noises.
A fire moves through Ross, hot, searing pleasure that he's never, ever felt before. Brian's insistent cock is nudging that beautiful knot of nerves inside of Ross. He can't handle much more of this intense and utterly perfect feeling.
"P - professor," Ross moans, "I'm...I..."
"Come on," Brian says in a deep growl, his own breath short and tight in his chest. "Come for me, Mr. O'Donovan."
Brian slams into him again and again. Ross can feel his head swimming, vision blacking, and then his orgasm slams into him and he comes harder than he ever has before. He comes without even being touched, which has never happened to him in his entire life, his cock spurting thick, white ropes of come against the floor and wall in front of him.
Brian keeps going, holding Ross so close to him, and Ross whimpers as he feels Brian pounding into him, once, twice, and then Brian freezes completely inside of Ross as he comes. Ross can feel Brian's cock jerking deep inside of him as the older man tumbles over the edge.
Ross is dazed, limbs like jelly, wobbling on liquid legs. They stay locked together for a moment before Brian pulls out of Ross, the young man whimpering at the loss of the thick cock inside of him. When Ross feels like he can barely support himself, he feels Brian's arms catching him and he feels himself being backed against the wall, his mouth caught in a searing kiss.
Ross clings to Brian, arms around his shoulders, holding on because that's all that he can do.
They break apart and Brian smiles at Ross, intense but warm, reaching out to brush sweaty hair out of Ross's eyes.
"How was that?" Brian asks, voice soft but no less deep.
"Fucking amazing," Ross sighs almost dreamily.
Brian kisses Ross again before bending down to grab at Ross's pants, tugging them back up over his sweaty, sticky body and buttoning them, getting the zipper back into place, Ross lazily watching the whole time.
Ross leans in again, holding Brian and kissing him, slower now, less intense with the need to come. It feels just as good.
"Will I see you class tomorrow, Mr. O'Donovan?" Brian asks, smiling against Ross's mouth.
"Absolutely," Ross breathes before he kisses Professor Wecht one more time.