All Chapters of My Off-limits Professor... But He's Mine (MM Romance): Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

43 Chapters

CHAPTER 10 ~ BRIAN

ADRIAN'S POV The fluorescent light above the sink flickers, buzzing like a trapped insect. Adrian leans against the cold porcelain basin, the taste of tobacco lingering on his tongue. He takes a long drag from the cigarette pinched between his fingers, the smoke curling up toward the stained ceiling tiles. He needs this. He needs the nicotine to settle the jittery energy rattling his bones, but it isn’t working. The image of Ryder’s mouth on his keeps replaying behind his eyelids—soft, hesitant, completely wrong. It woke something up in him, a restless, hungry beast that he usually keeps chained in the dark. He can’t think about Ryder. He can’t afford to. He needs to fuck the thought out of his head. He taps the ash into the sink, watching the grey flakes crumble. With his free hand, he pulls his phone from his pocket and dials the number he knows by heart. It rings twice. “Yeah?” Brian’s voice is breathy, already knowing why he’s calling. “My office,” Adrian says, his voic

CHAPTER 11 ~ FUCK, ADRIAN

RYDER'S POV The fluorescent lights of the clinic hum with a sterile, headache-inducing buzz that vibrates against Ryder’s skull. He sits on the crinkly paper of the examination table, his knuckles white where he grips the edge. The nurse, a middle-aged woman with a name tag that reads Betty, leans over him, swabbing a stinging antiseptic across the angry, purple bruise blooming on his cheekbone. “You look like you went a few rounds with a Zamboni, sweetheart,” Betty chirps, her tone light and teasing, completely at odds with the throbbing agony radiating through Ryder’s face. She dabs at a split near his eyebrow. “Though, I’ve seen worse. Usually from a high stick, not a fist.” Ryder flinches, a sharp hiss escaping through his clenched teeth as the alcohol seeps into the cut. He doesn't smile. He doesn't engage with the humor. The pain is a hot, heavy weight pulling at his features, making even the simple act of blinking feel like a chore. He keeps his eyes fixed on the poster o

CHAPTER 12 ~ SUCK MY DICK

ADRIAN'S POV The antiseptic stench of the hospital room clings to the back of Adrian’s throat, a sharp, chemical taste that refuses to mix with the metallic tang of blood lingering in the air. He stands beside the bed, his hands shoved deep into his pockets to stop them from trembling. His mother looks smaller than he remembers, swallowed by the starched white sheets and the humming machinery that monitors her fragile heartbeat. A purple bruise, blooming like a violent flower, mars her left cheekbone, trailing down to her jaw where the skin is split and scabbed over. "I missed you so much, Adrian," she whispers, her voice rasping like dry leaves over concrete. She reaches out, her fingers trembling, seeking his hand. "Every day since you were gone... the house was so quiet." Adrian pulls his hand free slightly, then forces himself to let her take it. Her skin is paper-thin, cold. He stares at the monitor, the green line blipping in a rhythmic, hypnotic cadence. "I know, Mom.

CHAPTER 13 ~ YOU ARE A CUDDLER

ADRIAN'S POV The neon sign above the club entrance buzzes with a dying, electric hum, casting a flickering pink glow over the damp pavement. Adrian steps out into the cool night air, the bass from inside still thumping a heavy rhythm against his ribcage. He spots Ryder immediately. The hockey player is bent double near a dumpster, one massive hand braced against the brick wall, his back heaving. Adrian wrinkles his nose at the acidic tang of vomit hanging in the air, sharp enough to cut through the smell of exhaust and cheap cologne. He marches over, his shoes splashing in a puddle of something he doesn’t want to identify. Ryder is retching, his broad shoulders shaking under the tight fabric of his polo shirt. "Fuck," Ryder groans, spitting onto the asphalt. He wipes his mouth with the back of a hand that looks like it could crush a skull. "I’m dying, man." "You’re not dying, you’re just wasted," Adrian says, though his voice lacks any real bite. He sighs, reaching out to g

CHAPTER 14 ~ SO CLOSE

RYDER'S POV Ryder leans back against the headboard, the sheets pooling low around his hips, exposing the sharp V-lines of his abdomen and the dark trail of hair disappearing beneath the fabric. He watches Adrian scramble around the room. A smirk tugs at the corner of Ryder’s mouth, slow and predatory, as he takes in the flushed skin and the wild look in Adrian’s eyes. "You know where the door is," Adrian snaps, clutching a bundle of fabric to his chest like a shield. He refuses to look at Ryder’s naked body, his gaze darting anywhere but the bed. "Since you’re conscious enough to know your address, you should get the fuck out before I come back from the bathroom." Without waiting for a reply, Adrian spins on his heel and marches into the en-suite bathroom, slamming the door with a definitive thud. The lock clicks into place, a sharp, final sound that echoes in the sudden silence of the bedroom. Ryder’s smirk widens into a grin. He stretches his arms over his head, his muscles

CHAPTER 15 ~ TENSION

ADRIAN POV Adrian’s palms pressed against Ryder’s chest, the friction of the cotton shirt grounding him even as his heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He pushed, not with force, but with the trembling urgency of a man waking from a deep sleep. Ryder’s lips were warm, tasting faintly of spearmint and the lingering heat of the afternoon, a dangerous combination that Adrian knew he should have rejected. "Wait," Adrian breathed, the word barely a whisper. He took a stumbling step back, putting a foot of distance between them, though the air still felt charged with static. "You have to go. I have someone coming over." Ryder leaned forward, his eyes dark and unfocused, a smirk playing on the corner of his mouth as if this were all a game. "Go?" "I’m serious," Adrian insisted, his voice cracking. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to smooth the disarray Ryder’s fingers had caused. "It’s not—" The heavy brass of the front door handle turned, the metal mechanism

CHAPTER 16 ~ FUCK THIS

RYDER'S POV Rain hammers against the roof of the taxi, a relentless, rhythmic drumming that matches the pounding in Ryder’s skull. He sits in the backseat, water dripping from the soaked hem of his jeans onto the expensive leather upholstery. The driver shoots a nervous glance in the rearview mirror, but Ryder doesn’t acknowledge it. He just stares out the window, watching the city lights blur into streaks of neon and grey. He is drenched, freezing, and furious at himself—not for getting caught in the downpour without his bike, but for what happened in the club yesterday before. He had been buried balls-deep in a woman, a tight, willing body that should have been enough to drown out the world. But when the peak hit, when his breath hitched and his spine arched, the name that tore from his throat wasn’t hers. It was Adrian. The Professor. Ryder grips his knees, his fingers digging into the denim hard enough to leave creases. He can’t believe it. He hasn’t been able to think s

CHAPTER 17 ~ BURNING TENSION

ADRIAN'S POV The fluorescent lights of the lecture hall hum with a low, headache-inducing buzz, but Adrian barely hears it over the drone of his own voice. He is dissecting the themes of repression in The Picture of Dorian Gray, but his mind is miles away, roaming the rows of tiered seating with a predatory focus. His eyes skip over the bowed heads of the students, the glowing laptop screens, the hands scribbling notes, searching for one specific face. The third row, center seat. Empty. A hollow void in the sea of bodies. Adrian hasn’t seen Ryder since the incident in his house. The memory plays on a loop behind his eyes, vivid and nauseatingly erotic. He remembers the dark liquid soaking through the thin cotton of the boy’s short, the fabric clinging instantly to the hard ridges of his laps, and the way Adrian’s own anger had curdled into a dark, throbbing lust as he watched the stain spread. He needs to know if the skin beneath is blistered, if the burn mark is still there. "

CHAPTER 18 ~ IN FRONT OF HIS DICK

RYDER'S POV The sharp scent of Zamboni polish and cold ice fills the arena, mixing with the sweat-heavy musk of the locker room tunnel. Ryder skates off the ice, his chest heaving, sweat dripping down his temple and stinging his eyes. Usually, he lingers, trading jabs with his teammates, slapping asses, and basking in the post-game adrenaline, but tonight his focus is singular. He saw him—Professor Adrian. The man was sitting in the crowd stiff and out of place amidst the chaotic roar of the hockey crowd, wearing a coat that cost more than Ryder’s tuition. Before the professor can melt into the shadows, Ryder strips his gloves and helmet, shoving them at a equipment manager, and sprints down the tunnel, his skates clacking harshly against the concrete. He catches Adrian just as he reaches the heavy metal doors leading to the parking lot. "Professor," Ryder calls out, his voice raspy from shouting plays on the ice. Adrian freezes, his hand hovering over the push bar. He turns, and

CHAPTER 19 ~ BLOWJOB

ADRIAN'S POV The mahogany door clicks shut, sealing the quiet hum of the hallway outside. Adrian sits rigid behind his desk. Across from him stands Ava, a senior student clutching a notebook to her chest like a shield. She smiles, eager and bright, completely unaware of the disaster unfolding three feet below the polished wood surface. "Professor Vale," she says, her voice chirping. "Thanks for seeing me. I know office hours are technically over." "Not at all, Ava," Adrian replies. His voice sounds steady, a miracle of vocal control given the current location of Ryder Knight. "What can I do for you?" "I just had a question about the thesis requirement," she says, stepping closer to the desk. Under the heavy oak desk, hidden in the shadowed gloom between Adrian’s thighs, Ryder shifts. The heat of his breath ghosts over the fabric of Adrian’s trousers. Adrian’s jaw tightens. He keeps his eyes locked on Ava’s face, terrified that if he looks down, his expression will betray the

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