Archive of Our Own

He didn’t know what higher power let him slink his way onto a college campus, but they’d probably regret it before the night was over. All things considered, Daniel should have had a reputation as a bad influence on anyone who spent time in his presence; double that for any young, starry-eyed undergrads meeting their hero for the first time. A situation like this was apt to get him into a whole heap of trouble. Anyone with brains would keep him far away from a respectable institution like UMass. 

Despite this, Andy Klein (a friend of a friend of his editor and the programme director for journalism at Amherst) had, with some nudging, gotten Daniel to agree to a reading and Q&A on a cold night in February. He had appealed to Daniel’s ego — which was a surefire way to succeed — as well as his contempt for 'journalism-by-theory'. 

“It would be good for the students to hear from someone actually out there doing it, instead of sitting behind a desk all day,” he’d said over the phone. “And maybe you can remind those desk-jockeys what real journalism is about, huh?” 

It was an easy manipulation to see through, but a paid gig and a night of undivided attention wasn’t exactly a hard sell either. Then there was the promise of access to someone youthful and adoring that he could catch the attention of for one night. 

He felt guiltier about not feeling guilty when he closed the door to his New York apartment, leaving Alice and his daughter behind to make the three-hour drive to Massachusetts. It was the same way every time he lied, cheated, relapsed. He was resigned to the inevitable and a slave to carnal pleasures, bored by the cycle of thinking he could do better before realizing he didn't want to. He'd rather be lost in the feeling of something good, something electric in his veins. It would have been nice to feel more conflicted about it though. 

For the reading, he settled on his most recent spread: a piece on the fall of the Berlin Wall and the ramifications that a likely German reunification would have on the people living under Soviet rule. It was decent writing for the most part. He hadn’t been 'boots on the ground' on the night of November 9th, but within a day he was there, interviewing East and West Germans as they flooded through the now opened border crossings. It was usually his favorite kind of work: taking the bigger picture and drilling down to the man on the street. 

The reading itself was fine overall, and followed by polite applause with a fielding of a few questions from the audience. It was the organized social drinks afterward that Daniel was more interested in. He liked to shoot the shit with those collegiate types, go hit-for-hit on real world practice over theoretical ideas. He was in a lively debate about the ethics of criminal sources with a professor who looked as if he were alive for the founding of the New York Times when Klein approached, flanked by four students. 

“Daniel, I hope I’m not interrupting,” Klein said, in a way that Daniel knew meant the debate had gotten too loud. 

“No, not at all,” he replied cheerily, before turning to the old-timer and patting his shoulder, more than a little heavy-handed. “I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree on this one, professor.” 

The old man rolled his eyes and chuffed out a curt reply before stalking away, and Daniel turned back to Klein. 

“How can I help?” 

“I just wanted to introduce you to some bright, young sparks we have on the programme. They’re all taking International Journalism with me this semester and I’m sure they’d love the chance to pick your brains.” 

Klein gestured to the four students, and Daniel looked them over. The group was made of two girls and two boys. For the girls, one was tall and thin, with mousy blonde hair and a pearl necklace that showed she definitely came from money. The other was short with straight, black hair cut into a severe looking bob, and frameless glasses. For the boys, the shorter of the two was stereotypically handsome— light brown hair, confident smile and wide shoulders. He had the kind of surface level, self-actualized look about him that usually made Daniel want to tear someone down, just so he could put the pieces back together. On any other night, he might have been the target of his ambitions. 

Everything changed when Daniel’s eyes settled on the last boy. He was taller than the other, although not by very much, and had rich, brown skin. Big eyes, a prominent nose, and a mass of curly black hair meant he was nearly dazzling to look at, so much so that he found himself pausing for more than a beat too long, caught in the hold of his deep stare, before snapping back to Klein. 

The professor introduced each one by name, letting them step forward to greet Daniel as he did. 

“This is Rebecca Ashton, Jennifer Tran, Jacob Potts and Arun de Romanus.” 

As Daniel politely shook each hand, he made sure to look the students in the eye and smile. The girls seemed nervous but happy to meet him, and the first boy had a breezy cockiness. Arun was a different story altogether. 

The name itself tugged at something in the recesses of Daniel’s brain, buried deep so that he couldn’t quite bring it to the surface. It was familiar in the way that a scent could be when it drifted, fleeting, past your nose. He couldn’t place where he knew the name from, and yet a pleasant hum associated itself with the feeling of it. 

He shook Daniel's hand with a firmness that took him off guard. Everything about the boy, from his thin body to his youthful face, meant that Daniel expected a timid personality. What he got instead was an unwavering assuredness. It was the kind that went all the way to the core. 

“De Romanus? That’s an unusual name. Italian or French?” he asked when shaking his hand, mostly because he couldn’t help himself. 

“Both in origin,” Arun replied, “although it was quite a few generations ago.” Daniel was surprised by the soft English accent that came out of his mouth. He’d been expecting something more of the continent. It was elegant and clipped, but somewhere around the edges was the hint of something more, a lilt of a romance language that was at odds with the statement about his name. 

He was usually pretty good at reading people cold, a necessary habit for a journalist, and yet in the space of a minute he realized he'd already read this kid completely wrong, twice. He let go of the hand and returned Klein and the other three. 

"International Journalism? Sounds like I picked the right article for you guys." He watched as they all smiled politely. 

"Yes, in fact I hoped you would. It's assigned reading for the course, but there's nothing like hearing the author read it themselves," Klein replied. 

Daniel laughed. "Yeah, nobody quite gets my dry delivery right. I'm glad you guys enjoyed it." 

"I loved the part about the two sisters seeing each other for the first time," one of the girls gushed. "How did you manage to find them?" 

"Chance mostly. I'd been waiting around Checkpoint Charlie for— five hours maybe? Managed to catch some good stories but nothing was quite… hitting, you know? Then I saw this woman wander through. She was in her 60s, all alone, coming from the East side to the West. She looked so unsure, as if any minute someone would grab her and drag her back to the other side. I thought she'd go the whole way like that, little steps, one foot in front of the other, but all of a sudden she took off running. I thought maybe she was just trying to flee but then she collided with someone and they were hugging and crying and I realized. It was probably the first time in forty years they'd seen each other. I gave them a few minutes before I dragged my translator over to talk. But yeah, I guess it was just dumb luck, being there at the right time." 

"It seems as though you have a keen sense for a story and a boundless patience to follow it." 

Daniel's eyes flicked over to the source of the voice, and was secretly grateful to have another excuse to look at the striking young man. He smiled. 

"I wouldn't necessarily put it that way. Sometimes you just get a feeling and you have to wait it out. It usually comes together eventually."

Arun didn't blink, but continued to stare at him. Eventually a small smile spread its way over the boy's mouth. Daniel knew in an instant how this night was going to end. 

"Well, writing is definitely an art and not a science," Klein interjected, letting Daniel break the stare. 

"Exactly." 

He let Klein lead him away, towards some more colleagues and a table with glasses of dark red wine. He didn't have to check to know a pair of eyes followed him around the room, but he preened under the gaze anyway. He was familiar with this game, performing casualness and waiting long enough that whoever stared him down got desperate for him to finally look. When he did, with a knowing smirk, he would be in full control. 

He gave himself ten minutes before looking at Arun— a little longer than usual to allow for that airy sense of confidence to falter. He imagined it, what it would look like when they finally locked eyes. The kid would probably look away, embarrassed and with a pink flush in his cheeks. When he dared to look back up he would find Daniel staring him down with a smirk, and maybe a wink for good measure, and he would be caught. 

As he counted down the minutes and made polite, if half-engaged, conversation with a group of academics, he let himself imagine the after. He'd done it plenty of times before, so it wasn't hard.

Readings, conferences, book signings: they were easy places to pick up the awestruck and easily impressionable. He could flash a smile or offer to read someone's work in some bar after the event was over, and they were like putty in his hands. They usually played it up a little, the demure, doe-eyed-student shtick. Maybe it was for his benefit, maybe their own— he couldn't say. Either way the end result was the same; they got to fuck someone semi-famous and he got his rocks off, along with the ego boost that his late thirties hadn't seeped away his appeal just yet.  

When the ten minutes were finally up, he casually tilted his head up and around, slowly searching out Arun. He wasn't with the three other students from before, so Daniel had to scan around for him. When his eyes landed on his mark, he froze. In an alcove of the room, tucked away where it was secluded and dimly lit, Arun leaned casually against a wall and stared Daniel down with an affronting intensity. He didn't shrink away when their eyes met, just continued to stare into Daniel's soul with the look of someone hunting. 

Daniel blinked, unable to break the heat of it as the blood rushed in his ears. It was unexpected and overwhelming. After thirty seconds, he couldn't hold out any longer and had to look away, stammering an apology to one of the men he'd been talking to and gulping half of his wine in one mouthful. When he chanced another look, he found Arun unmoved and still staring. He tried again and again to look away, ignoring the wavering intensity coming from across the room, but his eyes inevitably drifted back, almost helpless to it. Every time he was met with the look of a man dissecting him for his pleasure. 

Daniel panicked a little. 

He excused himself to the bathroom just so that he could breath and escape the unwavering feeling of being under the kid's microscope. He had fleeting but crazed thought that maybe Arun would follow him inside, all eyes, and shove them both into a stall. He couldn't tell if he wanted to suck his dick or murder him. Thankfully (or not) no one followed, and as Daniel splashed water on his face, he considered his options. 

Okay, so his first plan had gone out the window, but it didn't mean the night had to end with him running away to drown his sorrows. So Arun wasn't some blushing youth? He was definitely still into Daniel. It leaned closer to the obsessed-stalker-fan side of things than post-teenage crush, but he'd fucked scarier people for sketchier reasons— mainly drugs. Plus, he was wildly attractive, and completely Daniel's type: slim and dark and eye-catching. He just needed to go at this with confidence, turn the scope back around and wrestle control from Arun's hands. 

When he left the bathroom, the kid hadn't moved. Daniel made a beeline in his direction, scooping up two glasses of wine on his way, and holding one out with a raised brow. He said nothing until Arun took the glass from him. 

"Have you tried a subtler style?"

There was a pause as he seemed to consider his reply.

"I am only trying to emulate the professionals. It was you, was it not, that said the pen may be mightier than the sword, but it won't decapitate when needed?"

Daniel swallowed. He remembered the line. It was from an article that was at least three years old. The scales tipped a little more in favor of 'potential murderer'. 

"Maybe if you're trying to crack open a story, but what you're trying usually needs a more delicate touch." He watched the way Arun's cheek ticked, holding back a smile. "I have to hand it to you, really. Usually when I meet people your age, they get a little… starstruck. If they know who I am. But you've kind of thrown me."

"My apologies," Arun remarked without an ounce of authenticity. It made Daniel smile. 

"No, it's refreshing. As long as I'm not misreading the signs?"

He watched as the kid edged a little closer. When he did, he spoke with a quieter tone. 

"I suggest you trust your instincts." 

Daniel smiled. “Are you a senior?” he asked. 

“Will it be easier on your conscience if I am?” 

“Probably should be. I’m hoping you’re at least old enough to drink given that I just handed you a glass of wine.” 

He watched as Arun slowly raised the glass to his mouth and took a long pull. A drop of liquid remained on his lip as he swallowed and lowered the glass, and Daniel was nearly overcome with the urge to reach out and swipe it with his thumb. 

“Do you want me to tell you, or will it ruin the illusion?" Arun asked. 

"The illusion?"

"Of power. That is what you are looking for, is it not?" 

Daniel leaned back instinctively, suddenly, he felt caught. 

"Was it not your intention when you came here? An evening designed to celebrate your work and allow you to bask in the praise of your contemporaries before finding some young, nubile student to bend over in the back of your car?"

"I don't know what you've heard, but I'm not—" he started, but was interrupted when Arun encroached fully into his space. He laid a hand on the lapel of Daniel's suit jacket, smoothing the edge between his forefinger and his thumb. When he looked up into his eyes again, he swore for a moment the shade had changed from a deep brown to something else shocking and almost unfathomable. 

"I can be as young as you would like me to be, Mr Molloy." It was almost a whisper. 

"Jesus Christ," he murmured. He swiveled his head to see if anyone was looking, but they were hidden from judgemental stares in their little corner. When he returned to Arun again, his head was cocked waiting for a response. A giddy pang of arousal shot through him, low and heavy. He could play that game. "Is that what you want? Some older guy to take advantage of you?" 

He watched as Arun's mouth stretched into a sharp smile, wicked and unnerving. For a moment Daniel felt a flash of something in his memory, faded and obscured. It wasn't unusual, given the haze of drug abuse that had defined his twenties and early thirties. He had lost so many stretches from that time that a clearer, defined memory was much more surprising. He tried to pull at the thread of this one and make it real, but the only thing he could settle on was teeth. He was drawn away again by Arun speaking, and lost the memory entirely. 

"Will you teach me, Mr Molloy?" Arun asked, indulgent and artificially sweet. "I want to learn from the best and you have so much… experience." 

There was no escaping the pretense of it, not when an almost evil glint that had settled into Arun's eyes, only exasperated by the comically dramatic arch of his eyebrow. It shouldn't have been hot at all, in fact it sounded like bad porn dialogue. And yet, as he felt the kid's hand run up his chest, stroke over his shoulder and squeeze his bicep, Daniel very quickly realized he couldn't give less of a shit. 

"Yeah baby, I bet you do." 

He let his hands come up and grasp firmly at Arun's waist, caging him in. His hips felt small and pliable in the cradle of Daniel's hands, and it wasn't hard to imagine the two of them tangled together, somewhere dark and hidden. He could picture it so clearly, like déjà vu with how real it seemed in his mind. 

All at once, he had the image of it. It was Daniel's hands gripping tightly to the contours of Arun's waist, squeezing hard — hard enough to hurt — and thrusting wildly inside of him. Arun's own hands circled his wrists, as if he were urging him to crush even tighter, whilst he bounced in Daniel's lap. When he looked up, he could see the taut muscles of the other man's throat as his head tipped back to moan unashamedly. 

Daniel had to blink to clear the visceral sight of it, and even then he was left by the familiarity of Arun in his palms. A groan threatened to weave its way out of his throat. 

"Have— have we met before?" he asked, and he could feel how desperate it sounded. 

"Is that what you need? I can be your student, if you would like that. I'll let you do anything if you give me an A, Professor Molloy." 

"God that's— that should not be as hot as it is. But I mean it, have we met before?"

This time, Arun considered him. There was a stoniness to it, the first time all night he'd looked anything other than completely alluring. 

"I have been told I have one of those faces," he said, trying to step outside the reach of Daniel's hands. The words lacked any kind of conviction, in fact he seemed wholly unconvinced by his own lie. 

"I think we both know that's not true. C'mon kid, what are you hiding? I feel like I know you." 

"And through what circumstances could we possibly know each other? But of course, you make a habit of finding and fucking swaths of dazzled, youthful undergraduate prospective journalists. Tell me, Mr Molloy, is it just the fact that they are barely legal that fulfills your untempered want? Or are they required to stroke your ego as well as your cock?" 

The harshness of the words, cold and calculating, cut across him like steel. Daniel considered rising to it. Feeling the familiar sting in his jaw that made him want to work the muscle and spit venom. On a worse night, he would have. It was such an easy shape for him to fill, like coming home to a bed that knows your shape. He could snap, load a rifle with pointed verbal rounds and shoot to kill— it wouldn't be the first time. 

The only problem was, he couldn't shake the feeling when he looked into the kid's face. Underneath the beauty was a ghostly visage resting in the corner of his vision; he knew this wasn't their first time meeting. 

"If I fucked you and I never called after, I'm sorry," he said, slowly. "I wish I could say I intended to, but I know I didn't. I'm a bastard, but typically I'm pretty upfront about it. I mean, I'm married for Christ's sake. Faceless poundings in the backseat are kind of all I'm good for. My question is, if it pissed you off the last time, why the hell do you want to do it again?" 

There was a long pause between them. It stretched out and out, waiting for one of them to break. Arun stared at him, hard and unblinking, with a pinpoint focus, and all of a sudden it was as if they were the only two people in the room. Eventually, he relented. 

"I find you fascinating, Daniel." 

~

He made Arun go and wait outside whilst he went to look for Klein. The professor was holding court with a group of other faculty members, telling some story that had them chortling in polite laughter. He smiled at Daniel when he approached. 

"Daniel! I was wondering if you'd saddled us with an Irish goodbye." 

"Thankfully I'm a little more polite than that. I'm headed out now though, long drive tomorrow." 

"That's a shame, I was hoping to chat with you. There's an opportunity I think you'd be interested in if you can stomach a semester of teaching instead of being out in the field." 

Daniel raised an eyebrow. The idea of teaching a full class was intriguing, although he'd probably have to reign in the swearing, as well as the side notes on where to score the best heroin. 

"I'll call you Tuesday, we can talk about it," he replied, and reached out a hand to the other man. He took it and smiled, shaking it vigorously. 

"I'll hold you to that. Before you go, say goodbye to the students? They're big fans, especially Arun." 

Daniel grinned. "Oh I will." 

He bypassed the three other students, not wanting to get waylaid, before nearly sprinting toward the door. He hoped Klein didn't notice, but the likelihood was slim. 

As he made for the exit, he considered why he couldn't conjure a memory of Arun when the boy implied he should be able to. He was usually pretty good at remembering faces when he was sober, and he hadn't been on a bender big enough to black out a whole sexual encounter since '87. If he was optimistic, three years ago put Arun down as a freshman. Was he fucked in the head enough to cruise some kid that was barely out of high school? If he had enough drugs in his system, the answer was probably yes. 

When he stepped into the cool air outside, the walkways of the dark campus were lit but empty. He looked around but couldn't see Arun anywhere. The sour taste of disappointment made a home in his throat and he rubbed a hand over his forehead. Had the kid really run away after all that? He considered the prospect of heading to a bar and finding other company for the night, but it sounded flat and boring in comparison. 

The quick, cutting shrill of a whistle interrupted his thoughts and he swung around to find the source. Tucked around the side of the building, and away from the illuminating yellow lights, was Arun. He was wearing a long coat that almost buried him, and he tipped two fingers in a salute as Daniel approached. He saw a cigarette held delicately between them as he was led to a secluded spot around the back of the building. 

"I thought you'd taken off," he said when they stopped. He watched as the boy tipped the cigarette to his mouth and inhaled, holding for a moment, before he let the smoke seep out from between his lips. 

"I thought it was best to be subtle. I wouldn't want to affect your potential employment opportunities." 

Daniel's eyes widened. 

"Klein told you about that? He only just mentioned it to me." He watched Arun smirk and blow smoke into the air.  

"I have my ways of gaining information. Helpful for a prospective journalist, no?"

"Are you sleeping with your professor, Arun?" The words fell out his mouth before he had the chance to hold them in, caught off-guard with a small, nagging spike of jealousy that seemed ridiculous to have. 

The kid tilted his head back and forth as he surveyed him, like he was searching for something in the planes of his features. He inhaled around the cigarette again, before pushing into Daniel's space and guiding him backwards. He moved until they came up against the brick wall behind. With nowhere to go, their faces were only inches apart. He let the smoke drop slowly out of his mouth, seeping into the gap between their lips, and Daniel couldn't help but inhale with a shuddering, desperate breath. 

"Would that ruin the fantasy for you, if some other, older man had defiled me first?" 

Daniel's mouth dropped open, and he almost groaned at the words. 

"Nah. Fuck who you want, kid. As long as you're nice and pliable for me," he murmured, and caught Arun in a firm grasp to finally close the distance between them. He was met with the acrid taste of smoke that lingered on the other's mouth, delicious, and enticing him to work those lips open to chase more of it. It didn't take long for Arun to push forward into his mouth with a force that made Daniel groan. It turned into a messy, open-mouthed thing; a fight as much as it was a kiss. He couldn't help but reach out and grab Arun's hips again, like he had before, and squeeze at them possessively as their mouths worked over each other. 

He could already feel the heat pooling in his abdomen. 

He wanted to spin them around and shove Arun into the brickwork— push the air out of his lungs. He wanted to grab a fistful of that dark hair and pull hard to expose the long column of his neck, just so he could bite at the skin and mark it. He could feel the sensation of it mirrored on his own throat, sharp and throbbing where the scar on his neck lived. 

He was struck again with bursts of images that felt like a memory even though he knew they couldn't be. The sound of Arun moaning his name and the feeling of a dull pain followed by exquisite pleasure. The warmth of the sun on his skin and sand between his toes. Orange eyes, like fire, pierced into his soul as foreign but familiar words rang in his ears: rest, beloved, rest, forget, rest. 

He gasped and jerked his head backwards, breaking the kiss and knocking his skull into the cold, hard brick behind. The pain caused him to shout out, and Arun was out of his space in an instant. There was silence between them, only broken but the heavy breathing as they both stared. 

"We really have met, haven't we?" he asked. When Arun said nothing, it pulled an outburst from him. "Fuck! Why won't you tell me? Is it because you were…" Underage. He couldn't quite say it out loud. 

"I would not follow that line of questioning if I were you. It might unearth some truths you are not ready to face." 

"Yeah, it's probably better you don't tell me. I'm not in the habit of checking IDs." 

He watched as the hint of a smile tugged its way at the corners of that beautiful mouth, like there was some joke in the words that Daniel wasn't aware of. 

"But it wasn't just one time, was it? I can't remember it clearly but I know it's more, it's so many times. I try to hold onto them, but it keeps getting torn away." The back of his head throbbed and he had to rest it softly on the brick so the cold would seep in and comfort the pain. "It's like I'm trying to hold my breath underwater and my lungs are burning." 

With his eyes closed he didn't see Arun approach, but he felt it when cold hands came up to cup his cheeks. 

"Hush," he said, quiet and comforting. "Do not try so hard, it will only cause you pain." 

"Why don't you want me to remember?" 

In lieu of an answer, Arun kissed him instead. 

He should have fought against it. He should have run away. He swore he was going to, but then he felt the taste of something on his lips. A sharp, metallic taste as Arun's tongue brushed up against his. Blood. It flooded from the other man's mouth into his own, resting hot and wet on the back of his tongue. 

Before he could panic, Arun pulled away just enough to look him in the eyes. 

"Swallow," he said, like a command. And Daniel did, almost without thinking. 

The moment the mouthful of blood sank down his throat, a warm floating sensation overwhelmed him. The throbbing pain in the back of his skull disappeared and he was overcome with a sense of euphoria. It was like every high he'd ever had combined, but somehow even better. All of his senses were heightened, like he'd been looking at life with a film over his eyes that was only now being removed. 

He watched the way the yellow light of the streetlamps danced off Arun's skin, as if he could see every individual particle. He listened to the shallow breaths the other took and they rang like musical notes in his ears. Every ache and pain was gone, replaced with a resonant hum that massaged his veins. Every negative thought he had, every deep psychological wound he'd run from, needle in hand, was cleared out. Not masked, not fogged, covered over or drowned out, but cleared. 

"What did you give me?" 

"Something to soothe. To calm your mind. You were in pain and I remedied it." 

"How long does it last?" he asked. He watched Arun's mouth twitch into a smile, whilst his eyebrows remained knitted together. 

"Do not think of it as you do your other drugs. It is a balm." 

"And when does this balm wear off?" 

"Eventually. But we have time before that." 

Daniel jolted when he felt Arun's hand grasp him, sudden and firm, through the front of his pants. He'd been so caught up in the feeling of whatever he'd taken that he hadn't even realized he was hard, in fact he'd kind of assumed he'd be pretty limp-dicked during this kind of high.

He laid a hand over Arun's wrist, and ground his hips in search of friction. The pleasure singed his nerve endings. He'd fucked high plenty of times and didn't mind the feeling of it, floaty and a little dreamlike. When he was young, dumb and trading his body for drugs, being high made the ride better. Less pain, less of the whirling thoughts of shame rolling around between his ears. He craved the disconnectedness. 

At that moment, he didn't feel disconnected at all. He was more in tune with every part of himself than he maybe ever had been. 

"We gonna do this here?" 

"Yes," Arun replied, dropping to his knees. 

He stared at the way his eyes shined in the dark, catching what little light filtered through the trees behind the back of the building. He stared up at Daniel even as he unbuckled his belt and opened his trousers; intense and inescapable. It was only broken when he reached into the front of his boxers to pull his cock free. The other man wrapped his delicate fingers around the base, and Daniel marveled at the contrast between them as Arun began to move his hand. 

He felt the air rush out his mouth, a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding onto, as the beginnings of the familiar ripples of pleasure moved through him. He leaned back against the wall for support, embarrassed by how immediately shaky he felt. The last time he'd done this, it was with bravado and cockiness. He'd shoved his hips forward into some faceless kid's hand, down his throat, murmured filthy praise as he came across his tear-stained cheek. He wondered if Arun would even let him do that. 

A groan was pulled out of his throat when the kid in question twisted his wrist suddenly, up and fast the way Daniel did when he jerked himself off in the shower. 

"Did I— did I teach you that the last time we did this?" 

"I know exactly what you like, Daniel," Arun smiled, wickedly. He punctuated it with another twist, making him groan again. "But we can pretend, if that makes it better for you." He watched Arun close his eyes and hold for a moment before slowly opening them again. "What would you like me to do, Professor Molloy?" he asked, saccharine. 

"Fuck," Daniel cursed, drawing out the sound. He let a hand come down and stroke across his cheekbone before burying itself deep in Arun's curls. "Your mouth. I want your mouth on me." 

He did as he was told, diligent and never breaking eye contact. Daniel marveled, mouth agape, as Arun swallowed him with expert precision. He stifled a moan as the tight heat of the other man's throat closed around the head of Daniel's cock, lips meeting his hand still wrapped around the base. He held there for a moment before beginning to move, bobbing his head up and down, over and over in a maddening rhythm. Daniel was embarrassingly easy for it, dragged along for the ride without a semblance of control, fast careening towards what he knew would be a mind-melting orgasm. 

It wasn't playing into their little fantasy at all. Really, Daniel should have been fucking Arun's throat whilst the boy gasped and whined, tears pricking the corner of his eyes. Instead, he was fully at his mercy, biting his lip in an effort not to moan so loud that it gave them away to any potential passersby. In image flashed in his mind again, orange glow of the sunset filtering in through tall windows as he laid out in a soft bed, Arun swallowing his cock. It left him again when the version in front of him pulled off to lick a stripe up the side, letting the brisk night air run sensitive shivers up his spine, before diving back down. 

He barely managed to choke out a warning as he felt the crushing wave begin to overtake him. 

"Baby— fuck! I'm gonna come, you better— fuck I'm gonna come." 

Arun gave no indication of slowing down as Daniel finally hurtled over the edge, just hollowed his cheeks to make a tight passage for him. Daniel's hips stuttered in half-aborted thrusts as he filled the boy's mouth, swearing uncontrollably between ragged breaths. He would have slid down the wall when Arun slipped his mouth off if it wasn't for his hands holding Daniel up. 

When their eyes met, he swallowed dramatically before opening his mouth and slowly lowering his tongue. There was nothing left except for a few translucent streaks of cum. 

"Jesus— fuck!" was all he could muster in response before grabbing Arun hard and pulling him up into a desperate kiss. The taste of himself on his tongue should have been disgusting, but it only made him shudder as he searched out the remnants. 

"What do you need?" he asked when pulled away, hushed and close against the front of Arun's mouth. He felt the twitch of a smile again. 

"I remember being promised a backseat tryst."

"Sure, kid. It's a nice thought, but I'm thirty-seven. I need at least an hour before I can get it up again."

"Where are you staying?" He balked at the idea of dragging Arun back to his hotel in Northampton, through the lobby and up to his room. It must have shown on his face, because the kid laughed. "I only ask to gauge if the drive is long enough for you to recover." 

"Twenty-five minutes maybe? Probably not long enough." 

"I'm sure I can give you an incentive." 

~

The incentive turned out to be listening to Arun moan as he fucked himself on his fingers in the backseat. Daniel spent the entire drive white-knuckling the wheel and stealing glances in the rearview mirror. He was pretty sure the over-dramatic noises were for his benefit only, but he wasn't complaining. It peeled like bells in his ears, still coming off the high of whatever he'd taken earlier. By the time they reached the hotel parking garage he was fully hard again. 

He pulled into the designated space and barely shut off the engine before he was up and out of the driver's seat. When he pulled the back seat door open, he swore it nearly ripped off its hinges. His mouth went dry at the sight he was presented with.

Arun's head was thrown back, back arched, as three fingers stuffed and stretched his hole. His shirt was unbuttoned, laying open at his sides, and a sheen of sweat covered his skin. 

"How do you want to do this?" 

Arun looked up at him, eyebrows pinched together in frustration. "Get in the car, Daniel." 

"Yes, boss," he breathed, climbing inside and slamming the door closed behind him. When he clambered over the other man's lithe form, he ran a hand over the skin of his chest and followed it with his mouth. He swore he could taste a hint of that metallic tang again, but he let the thought slip away at the sight of the boy underneath him. Arun's head was thrown back, shoulders drawn tight as his back arched. 

"God, you're beautiful. How could I have forgotten you?" 

He reached down to stroke a finger around Arun's hole and felt him squeeze and tense. It dragged a gasp out of the boy that made Daniel preen. He pushed more firmly, hoping Arun would get the message — which he did — and as he felt the other's hand withdraw, he shoved three of his own fingers inside. 

He listened to the choked off moans it solicited as he roughly fucked his fingers inside. Arun's legs tensed where they bracketed him, surprised at the treatment. Through gritted teeth, the boy protested. "It is enough, your— ah, your cock is not so large that I require more. Stop wasting time." 

Daniel smirked in response, and let his hand slow. He was struck with an idea as he did. 

"I know, baby. I know you think you've had it before. All romance and candlelight and hushed 'I love you's. You probably even came, or at least he jerked you off after if you didn't. But fumblings in the dark with your teenage crush isn't going to compare to what I'll give you." 

They locked eyes and he watched in real time as Arun considered what he was offering. Slowly, he leaned up into Daniel's space, pausing for a moment when their lips were almost touching, before laying a soft kiss on his lips. When he pulled away and laid back down, he blinked up at him with a soft, open expression. 

"Please, Professor. I want to know what it really feels like." 

Fuck yeah. 

"It's not gonna be soft. I'm gonna be fast and rough. I just want you to lay there, look gorgeous and take it; moan for me and arch your pretty little back when I tell you to. Got it?" 

"Yes, Professor." 

"Good boy." 

Daniel removed his fingers fast with every intention of making Arun moan and tense, and was glad when it worked. As he grabbed his wallet from his back pocket and fished out a condom, Arun got to work on his pants for him so he could roll it on smoothly.

"I can't decide how I want you. Like this so I can see you cry when I bend you in half, or on your front like a fucking animal." 

He watched as Arun slowly turned over on the seat, laying on his chest and stretching his arms up to grab the handle of the door. He spread his legs further and let his spine curve beautifully to lay his torso flat. There was a moment of pause before he turned his head to look back over his shoulder. 

"Like this?"

He answered by slapping Arun's ass, hard, and digging his fingers into the flesh enough to bruise. 

"Whoever sent you fucking loves me." 

Rubbing the head of his dick against Arun's hole a few times was all the warning he gave before pushing inside with one, rough thrust. It pulled a shout out of the boy's throat, followed by a shaky breath. He didn't give any time for him to adjust before he was setting a brutal pace, enjoying the tight squeeze of Arun's walls around his cock. He probably should have been kinder, set a slower pace and build him up to it. He knew how to angle his hips so the head of his dick brushed against exactly where Arun needed, but this wasn't the game they were playing and he didn't want to. 

Neither of them were bothering to muffle any noises, which was a risky choice. It wasn't so late that someone else at the hotel couldn't drive up and park for the night but he couldn't find it in himself to care. He reached forward and grabbed a fistful of curly, black hair— wrenching Arun's head back to hear him even better. The angle looked like it hurt, and he gave little punched-out cries every time Daniel filled him up. He wanted to savor the noises. 

"Are you like this for everyone, baby, or is it just me?"

He didn't answer at first, so Daniel pulled him all the way up onto his knees. His chest was plastered to the boy's back and he shoved his cock in a deep, grinding thrust. 

"I asked you a question. Answer it." He gripped at Arun's jaw as he said it, shoving it to the side so he could run his nose over the sweaty skin of his neck. 

"What would you like me to say?" he answered through gritted teeth. "That no one has had me like you? That I'm desperate for you to be inside of me? Is that what the other boys tell you, when they cry as you stretch them out on your cock?"

"Yeah, something like that. Who am I to say no if that's what they want?"

"As long as you can chase your own pleasure, what does it matter?"

"You know maybe I prefer you quiet," he spat, moving to shove Arun back down onto the seat when he suddenly found he couldn't. It was like coming up against stone. 

"Perhaps enough of your pedestrian fantasies, Daniel," Arun murmured. Very suddenly, Daniel was shoved backward against the door of the car. Pain rocked through his shoulder as it collided, leaving him wincing. He watched as Arun climbed off his lap and turned around to deposit himself so that they were facing each other. Gone was the look of a boy playing at demure, instead replaced with the blank, unreadable intensity he had surveyed Daniel with in the function room. 

Before he could protest, Arun was already grabbing his dick and sinking down. His hands came up to land on his hips instinctively, despite the cold shock of fear that was creeping up the back of his neck. 

"I know it was your plan to use me and leave me sobbing, but it seems I have changed my mind. I would prefer to take what I want instead." 

He punctuated the words by rising up before slamming back down. A bruising hand on his shoulder pinned Daniel in place as Arun set a brutal pace, alternating between dropping harshly onto his dick and grinding in his lap. He couldn't do anything but sit there and take it, groaning and swearing as they both careened closer to the edge of orgasm. He was reminded again of the memories that flashed in his mind when they were back on campus, but too lost in the feeling to connect it to some coherent thought. 

He could feel the familiar tightening in his gut, toes curling in anticipation. 

"I'm going to—" he started but he was interrupted. 

"Don't," Arun commanded, locking eyes with him. 

And it was like he hit a wall, unable to pass through. He was on the edge of coming but unable to fall over and the oversensitivity of it was almost unbearable. He couldn't even form the words to ask, just stuttering out the start of some half formed words as he watched Arun jerk himself off whilst still bouncing on his cock, chasing his own completion. He begged whatever god there was that it would be soon. 

When Arun's breathy sighs turned to drawn out moans, and he slumped forward to rest his head on Daniel's shoulder, he knew it was happening. He felt warm spurts land on his stomach, the rhythmic squeezing of his cock inside the other's hole, and mercifully — as he tried not to scream — his orgasm finally pushing through. As his brain nearly whited-out, he just barely registered a sharp pain in the side of his neck paired with a pulling sensation that was familiar, but he couldn't place. 

It was only on the other side of it, coming down shaking, that he realized Arun was sucking on his neck, and it was wetter than expected. The feeling was fast becoming painful, making him light-headed. He tried to shove at the other man's shoulder to pull him off, but found he couldn't move him. 

"Arun, stop!" 

The shout seemed to break whatever force was holding him in place and he reared back. The sight of him made Daniel run cold over his whole body. His mouth was covered in blood — Daniel's blood — and elongated fangs had emerged where his normal canines had been. His eyes were wide and half-crazed. 

"What the fuck—" was the last thing he got out before Arun interrupted him. 

"Rest." 

~

When Daniel woke up in his hotel room on February 12th it was with a severe headache. The small amount of sunlight filtering in through the gap in the curtains felt blinding, and he rolled over to try and escape it. 

When he faced the night stand he saw the culprit: an empty bottle of scotch. He tried to recall the hazy memories of the previous night, but struggled. Everything until the drinks social was clear, but after that it was flashes of scenes, disconnected images. He remembered a young man but couldn't conjure the image of his face, only a stirring feeling that he knew meant they'd hooked up. 

When he blindly reached for his wallet, beside the bottle on the night stand, he found the slot the condom usually lived in was empty. At least there was that.