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“What the bloody—” scrutinizing, amber eyes scanned the unfamiliar room until they landed upon his bed partner, words dying on his tongue quickly. Beside him lied a person he’d have never imagined waking up, in the situation he was in, beside. Unruly mocha shaded hair whirled in each direction, tanned, freckled skin, exposed to his lower back, and wide, unblinking chocolate eyes lied nestled at his side.
“Marco,” he uttered softly, unsure of his words “this—”
“Jean,” Marco replied wearily “you were going to say they can never know what happened last night, correct?”
“Yes,” Jean stated flatly before quirking a brow “so how exactly are we going to do this?”
Speaking through a yawn Marco shook his head slightly “Hmmm, you just don’t tell ‘em?”
Jean rolled his eyes “Tch, like they’re that stupid, Marco. We both skirted our movies around the same time, ditched the idea of going to the bar with them, now you have to see them at work and I have to see them on campus. You know they’re going to ask us what happened last night since we were being dodgy.”
Chocolate eyes brimming with concern met his own as a tanned hand delicately brushed his cheek “And what do you want to tell them, Jean? That you’re sleeping with your professor? Or would you prefer to lie about what happened last night and say was a fluke, a flaw in your better judgement, or a sober “drunken” mistake?”
Leaning into the tender caress Jean sighed lowly “I don’t want to tell them anything.”
“You’re a doctoral candidate, Jean, they can’t punish us too harshly. What are you truly worried about, hmm?” Marco hummed.
Jean jerked away from his hand crawling out of bed to locate his pants “I’m worried I can’t finish my dissertation, you’ll get fired and lose your chance at early tenure, my friends and your friends will have too much of a laugh at our expense, but mostly the fact that I want it to continue and I don’t know how to feel about a conflicting turmoil quite like this one.”
Groaning Marco rolled out of his bed and shuffled around to Jean, wrapping his arms around his hips “You’re 27, I’m 30, and though our friend circle intermingles it doesn’t mean that we have to be around them at the same time. If you’re that scared of things coming to light, Mr. Kirschtein, perhaps it is for the best we pretend this night never happened.”
“And can you really do that?” Jean called admittedly a bit downtrodden. “Can you see me in class and not make eyes at me or smile like the sun when I answer something correctly? Can you control the urge to ask to see me after class? Marco,” he paused to turn carefully in his arms “can you seriously pretend last night didn’t happen?”
Kissing his forehead gingerly he nodded “If I have to. Even if we were to see each other I would still have to conduct myself similarly. Retaining my professionalism is key and, therefore, I can do what I must. The question isn’t if I can maintain myself it’s if you can Jean. Since the start of the semester I’ve felt the heat from your unwavering gaze practically seer holes through my blazers, the lingering touch when you would collect your term papers, and even the way your speech changed when I asked you something directly. Can you be the one to pretend last night didn’t happen?”
Leaning his head forward, resting it against Marco’s shoulder, Jean mumbled “I don’t know. It’s hard, Marco. I want to be with you but we could be at risk of losing everything. I could potentially lose my scholarships, all my work, and you can lose your entire career if the department board is against it. You’re even up for tenure, one of the youngest professors in the university history. Is it really worth it?”
Raking his fingers through Jean’s hair Marco replied calmly “That’s a decision you have to make. I understand one way or another and I’ve made my own already. Sneaking around isn’t optimal, as prying eyes and ears are everywhere, but neither is the thought of never being with you again exactly pleasant. You have class at 1pm so go ahead and shower. I’ll know your answer by then.” As Marco released him gesturing a hand across the hall to the open door, Jean collected his clothing and shuffled towards the bathroom. That had said it all. Jean Kirschtein was a doctoral candidate finishing his dissertation and sleeping with his Criminal Psychology 407 professor. Ultimately his life had flipped upside down and one decision would decided if he liked getting hit on the shin by lighting fixtures or if he preferred them overhead.
Sleeping with a professor as graduate student wasn’t illegal but it was frowned upon and in most cases it meant academic hardships. From the first day of classes it had been hard not to stare, hard not to ignore the man in front of him commanding attention. A broad fame, perfectly tanned skin dusted with freckles, sparkling, umber doe eyes, and a voice not unlike rich honey. Behind his wire framed glasses professor Bodt’s eyes lingered on him carefully and Jean continued to stare. The animal that looked away first lost and he hadn’t been about to show weakness in front of a man like that.
At first he, wrongly, assumed that he could handle that decadent “come hither” stare and bedroom eyes. When he began making friends and was invited out to a local watering hole his internal thought process wavered. His friends Eren Jaeger, Armin Arlert, Sasha Blouse, and a few more, had been friends with professor Bodt for several years. It seemed scampering away from the man was impossible….not that he minded so much. After having several conversations on an equal footing he discovered Marco was a fantastic man. A delightful sense of humor, a sharp wit, and quick tongue along with his looks and Jean had practically tossed Marco the key to his apartment except he hadn’t.
Jean and Marco danced the dance of “should we or shouldn’t we?” for far more longer than they had anticipated. It seemed neither of them was ready to take the plunge after a few flirtations. Flash forward 5 weeks later, however, and there he was having slept with his professor after they were supposed to have drinks with their friends. Keeping a secret as momentous as the one he currently held was going to be nigh impossible, he wanted–no, needed, to tell someone about it.
While showering away the clinging aroma of Marco’s apartment off his skin Jean allowed himself to process things. On one hand the department could declare it breaking academic rules and have him suspended or, at the least, placed on academic probation. The latter wasn’t quite as bad but he was less worried for himself, more so for Marco’s sake. Having the board declare it breaking sanctions of Marco’s contract meant that he could be terminated from employment and his hope for tenure would be shot. It was the last thing in the world he wanted to come from their mutual attraction and desire to be with one another.
Jean wanted Marco in more than a classroom, he wanted him in his bed, in his shitty, little one bedroom apartment, a half hour from campus, sitting on the couch and watching bad movies, and he wanted everything that was him. All of him. Was it such a bad longing to possess? Was it worth the potential of losing everything they’d both worked so hard for? At the moment his heart screamed yes but his mind calmly calculated the response no.
Being at odds with himself rendered him practically catatonic the next few hours. Leaving Marco’s apartment had been hard enough: seeing the emotion twisting in his eyes, feeling it laden in his touch, tasted on his lips in the kiss that was meant to so obviously be a “goodbye” kiss if he’d decided to no longer see him, and yet by noon his mind still wasn’t made up. Everything whirled past him as if it was but an insignificant speck of dust fluttering about the wind. The only thing he could think of was what to do about Marco.
Calling a friend, or two, before class to admit what happened and ask for their input only confused him more. The decision was split once again leaving him to ultimately decide his own fate, as was right. His mind raced to how truly mesmerizing Marco Bodt was. That night he’d treated Jean as if he were something too precious to hold tightly. Yet somehow, after that, during their sleep Marco clung to him as if he was going to slip from his grasp. Even that drowsy, heavy, half-lidded gaze and radiant smile when he awoke to stare back at him spoke volumes to his ideals. It was clear to him that Marco clearly wasn’t doing this for a sexual release.
Come 1 o’clock Jean was slinging his messenger bag across his body, adjusting his tie, and anxiously chewing on the two hoops through his bottom lip. His fingers curled around the silver handle to room 419 in the Virginia Hall ready to push it open. Taking a deep breath to steel his resolve he opened the door and stared ahead as he made his way to his seat on the far left side of the lecture hall. Exhaling raggedly he shifted his gaze to the desk below the tiered rows of seating.
Marco wasn’t there yet.
It was almost more nerve wracking that way. Knowing he could enter at any moment when the heavy wooden door creaked open set him on edge. His mind raced between looking intently towards the door each time it opened or avoiding it and staring at the computer screen in front of him. Deciding it was best to follow the latter he kept his gaze affixed to his laptop until the sound of Marco’s voice flooded the room.
“Good afternoon everyone,” he began fluidly “I hope you all had a decent day thus far. Please do excuse my tardiness I had some things to take care of first.” Marco continued with a speal about the rise in organized crime across the world. He’d have to loved to say he paid attention during the lecture but he just couldn’t find it in himself to do so. Instead he shifted from the laptop screen to the whiteboard and caught nihl to none of the information spoken. Only when an email notification popped up in the corner of his screen did he get jarred from his neverland.
The email was from Marco. Was he doing this to call him out and tell him to pay attention? Looking down he watched as he shoved his cellphone into the back pocket of his khaki slacks. Resolving himself to open the email Jean took a shaky breath and clicked it. Upon reading its content his eyes turned owlish and he blinked down at Marco who was wearing only the widest cheshire cat’s grin. Throughout the lecture he could only continue to stare.
By the time the lecture was over and the class had emptied Jean began to pack his things while Marco pulled the blind over the door and flipped the lock. Jean walked carefully down the steps and stopped in front of Marco. A hand carefully wound it’s way around Jean’s hips and lips pressed to his cheek sweetly.
“I can’t believe you,” Jean muttered.
Marco chuckled airily “Haha, why not? I’m a great professor aren’t I?”
“Yes but—”
“But what?” Marco interrupted.
Jean grumbled and tossed his arms around Marco’s neck “But now the night that didn’t happen has to have happened and we have to tell the board and our friends.”
“Tenure is such a marvelous thing isn’t it?” He chuckled “Having to jump through hoops to fire me would be seen as problematic and as for you I think they’ll probably put you on probation if that.”
“How do you know that?” Jean mused cautiously.
With a wide grin Marco arched a brow “Oh, because I know the head of the disciplinary board professor Ackerman, the tenure board head Erwin Smith, and the dean Mr. Pixis. We go drinking every other Wednesday with some others…or did I neglect to mention that? Must’ve slipped my mind.”
“You asshole!” Jean shouted mildly irritated as he narrowed his eyes “You let me believe this was going to ruin our lives if I stayed with you!”
“But at least I could see which was more important to you. The potential of love or your doctorate. I knew when I watched you coming into this room what you picked. You’re a smart man, Jean, picking your career instead of something that could fizzle, but now you don’t have to.” Marco offered with a shrug “After all I am a psych professor and I enjoy playing with your mind so I enjoyed this little test.”
Furrowed brow Jean shoved him back and crossed his arms with a huff “After that you better play with more than my mind, Marco.”
“I guarantee my apology will be worth the momentary pain you suffered.” His features fell, twisting into something he’d only had the pleasure of seeing once, his eyes darkened a hint as primal instinct churned through them “So tell me Jean, have you ever wanted to be bent over that desk?”