The heavy oak door closed behind the last student, cutting the classroom off from the hum of the evening corridors. A long-awaited silence fell over the lecture hall. Adrian leaned back in his leather chair, tilted his head back, and slowly ran his hands over his face, pressing on his temples. His neck muscles ached from nine hours of teaching, and his chest still heaved with labored breathing.

Even in a state of complete exhaustion, he looked impeccable: the shirt collar, unbuttoned one button, exposed his collarbones; the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms with visible veins; and his fatigue only emphasized his sharp cheekbones and heavy, magnetic gaze. He allowed himself a moment of complete relaxation, feeling the warmth spread through his tired muscles, softening every line of his body.

The hands of the wall clock crept inexorably toward nine o'clock. Adrian sighed, reached for his planner, and neatly stacked the piles of lesson plans spread out on the table. The paper rustled in the half-empty room, echoing the rhythm of his thoughts about dinner at the nearby diner. He was just about to snap his leather briefcase shut when Lucas's face suddenly flashed into his mind.

A barely perceptible, crooked smirk touched his lips, which turned into a low chuckle.

He wasn't naive. Adrian knew perfectly well how these kinds of dynamic relationships worked with young guys who were inexperienced in matters of the heart but confident in their own attractiveness. Lucas was far from the first, and certainly not the last, to try to use jealousy as a way to control Adrian.

The theatrical scenes this young man had been putting on all day long, following their wild and destructive sex in the lecture hall, struck Adrian not merely as funny, but downright pathetic.

"Idiot," the professor thought with firm conviction. He had no intention of reacting the way the young man's ego craved. Jealousy was a weapon of the weak, and Adrian was used to controlling the battlefield.

He zipped up his briefcase and headed for the mirror in the corner of his office. As he adjusted his shirt cuffs, he met his reflection's gaze. In the dim light of the room, he looked damn good: tousled hair, eyes puffy from lack of sleep but burning with an inner fire, and that light, predatory ease in his shoulders. Adrian knew his own worth. He had always known how handsome he was, and he had never planned to lock that beauty away in a cage for the sake of one capricious young man, who demanded exclusive rights to his body and time.

"I've been stuck in one place for too long," he whispered to his reflection.

This needs to end. Tomorrow he'll call Lucas, dot the i's and cross the t's, and officially put an end to this chaotic experiment. And right after that, he'd head to the club. He suddenly craved, almost painfully, to feel soft, supple feminine curves, to drown in the scent of sweet perfume, and to forget about the tense, muscular, and flat bodies that brought nothing but trouble and headaches.

How long have they been fucking this boy? Two months? Three?

Having made that decision, Adrian felt an unexpected sense of relief. He picked up his closed briefcase from the desk, turned toward the door, and had already wrapped his fingers around the cold brass doorknob, preparing to step out into the hallway…

His fingers closed around the cold metal doorknob. He had already pressed it, preparing to step into the empty hallway, when suddenly a sharp, unexpected blow to the chest knocked him off his feet. The world swayed. Adrian hadn't even had time to exhale before he was literally shoved back into the office. Stunned, mixed with instinctive tension, his pupils dilated. Gravity pulled him down, and, losing his balance, he fell. The floor was already close, and he mentally braced himself for the fatal blow of his head hitting the hard floor. But instead of a hard impact, a hand firmly supported his head.

Adrian froze, breathing heavily and looking up, where a familiar, now enraged figure loomed over him.

"Damn, that really hurts!" Lucas hissed, yanking his hand out from under the professor's head and grimacing as he rubbed his own wrist, as if he were the one who'd suffered the most. "It's not a head, it's some kind of dumbbell!"

Adrian blinked slowly, trying to regain control of the situation that had just slipped through his fingers with a crash.

***

Adrian didn't try to jump up. Instead, he slowly braced his elbows against the hardwood floor and raised his upper body. The movement caused Lucas to freeze instinctively, halting his aggressive surge. The professor ran a finger along his shirt collar, brushing away an invisible speck of dust, and only then looked up. There was not a trace of panic or anger in his dark eyes—the very emotions the young man had been so desperately trying to provoke. There was only cold, analytical curiosity, the kind with which an entomologist examines a beetle that is too noisy but entirely predictable.

"If your goal was to test the strength of my skull, congratulations, the experiment can be considered complete," Adrian's voice sounded disgustingly calm. "However, your methodology, as always, suffers from an excess of impulsiveness and a complete lack of logic."

Lucas froze, his chest heaving heavily. He'd expected at least a scream, the very reason he'd dragged himself here straight from the club. But this icy mockery struck his ego far more painfully than any physical collision with a weight.

"Don't make a fool of me," Lucas growled, leaning forward. He was dangerously close again, his knees pressed against Adrian's hips, blocking any attempt he might make to get up. The young man smelled of cheap tobacco, sweet women's perfume, and that sharp, metallic scent of semen that Adrian knew so well.

Adrian exhaled slowly. He could have lied and pretended not to understand where the young man had come from. But this game of hide-and-seek was beginning to wear on him just as much as it was on Lucas. To the young man's utter astonishment, the professor didn't push him away but raised his hand. His fingertips touched Lucas's jawline, tracing his tense cheekbones with a frightening, almost tender gentleness.
Blood pounded furiously beneath that hot, taut skin, but Adrian himself felt only utter exhaustion. Looking into those eyes brimming with rage, he realized with crystal clarity just how drained he was by this boyish drama. Suddenly, he longed painfully once more to touch a woman's curves.

"You're trembling, Lucas," Adrian whispered, and his thumb slowly slid across the young man's lower lip, smearing the moisture. "And I'm very curious: is it from anger at me, or because you still haven't gotten the performance you're so desperately trying to direct?"
Lucas jerked away sharply, shaking off that deceptive caress, but his voice betrayed him with a tremor.

"Don't you dare touch me," he hissed, and in his gaze flashed the very vulnerability he had so diligently hidden behind a mask of cynicism. "What play are you talking about?"

"What else would you call it, if not a one-man show? Oh, no, you found them minor roles as well."

"Me?"

"Well, not me."

"Just you!"

The words just slipped out. Lucas didn't even have time to realize that he'd just revealed his greatest, most shameful weakness and laid all his cards on the table.
An invisible lock clicked distinctly in Adrian's mind. The man immediately recalled the boy's solitary, furious back receding down the hallway when he'd caught him with his student.
The reins of power were now firmly in his hands. 
The boy had handed him the keys to his pride himself, and there was no point in giving them back.
Adrian blinked slowly, and there was not a trace of leniency or tenderness left in his gaze.

"We need to stop this," he said with chilling finality.

Lucas raised his eyebrows in confusion, and irritation instantly replaced his bewilderment. He tried to regain his usual arrogance.

"What's this all of a sudden?" he snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. "Are you bored? Or have you decided you're too good for me?"

Adrian rose from the floor, once again brushing nonexistent dust from his immaculate trousers. He looked down at Lucas, and a venomous smile touched his lips, sending a chill down the young man's spine.
The words just slipped out. Lucas didn't even have time to realize that he'd just voiced his greatest, most shameful weakness and laid all his cards on the table.

Adrian got up from the floor, once again brushing imaginary dust off his immaculate trousers. He looked down at Lucas, and a venomous smile touched his lips, sending a chill down the young man's spine.

"I'm just tired of pretending that I'm turned on by something halfway between teenage hysteria and your dick, which, by the looks of it, makes up for your absolute emotional immaturity with its size alone."

The air in the office thickened, becoming heavy and electric. Lucas froze, his mouth parting, but not a single sound could escape his throat, constricted by a sudden, humiliating shock. The insult was so unexpected that it knocked the wind out of him.
Without waiting for a reaction, Adrian bent down, picked up his leather briefcase from the floor, and with casual ease tossed the office keys onto the hardwood floor, right at the feet of the stunned young man.

"Lock the door behind you when you leave," the professor said, heading for the exit. His voice was even and emotionless. "Leave the keys with the guard."

The heavy oak door slammed shut, leaving Lucas alone in the oppressive silence of the empty office, where the faint scent of expensive cologne still lingered in the air.