Just a Bit Twisted Page 2

  “Mr. Wyatt?”

  Shawn flinched, flushed and looked back at the man.

  “What are you still doing in my office? You’re dismissed.”

  Looking at Rutledge’s hard expression, Shawn couldn’t for the life of him imagine flirting with him. “Flirting” and “Professor Rutledge” shouldn’t even be mentioned in the same sentence, period. And Shawn didn’t have much experience with flirting, anyway: the few girls he’d had sex with hadn’t required any seducing. Truth be told, he usually didn’t have to make any effort at all.

  Shawn took a deep breath in and met Rutledge’s eyes. “Sir, I…” He swallowed. “Is there any way I can get a better grade? I’ll do anything. Anything.”

  Rutledge stared at him.

  Then, his eyes narrowed.

  “Mr. Wyatt,” he said at last. “Are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting?”

  Shawn swallowed again. Was he? He wasn’t sure himself what he was suggesting. “Um, yeah?”

  Rutledge’s nostrils flared. He leaned back in his chair and studied him intently. “Please clarify to avoid confusion.”

  Shawn swept his gaze around the room before looking down at his feet and shrugging. His sneakers were worn, but he couldn’t afford new ones. “I think you know, sir.”

  Silence.

  Seconds ticked by.

  “I see,” Rutledge said. “Lock the door and come over here.”

  Shawn’s stomach lurched. His legs unsteady, he walked to the door and locked it, all the while trying to ignore the panicked little voice in his head that was yelling at him, What are you doing?

  Looking anywhere but at Rutledge, he rounded the desk and stopped next to his professor, his heart pounding in his throat. Rutledge turned in his chair so that he was facing Shawn now. Shawn focused his gaze on the dark fabric of the professor’s suit.

  “On your knees,” Rutledge said softly.

  Dropping to his knees was almost a relief, as unsteady as his legs were.

  Rutledge took his chin with his fingers and tipped his head up, forcing Shawn to meet his gaze.

  “I can have you expelled for this,” he said.

  Shawn’s eyes widened.

  Rutledge cast him a look of such loathing Shawn flinched. “I have students who never miss classes and work very hard just to get a C. And then there are pretty, empty-headed boys like you who think if they suck my dick, they’ll get a good grade.”

  Shawn felt his face heat up. Hearing the word “dick” from Professor Rutledge was weird as hell. Weird and downright obscene.

  Rutledge’s grip on Shawn’s chin tightened. “Do you think it’s fair, Wyatt?”

  Shawn swallowed, but he forced himself to meet the man’s gaze firmly. “If you’re going to report this to the board, remember that I didn’t say a word about sucking your dick, Professor. You did. If you report me, I’ll report you.”

  A muscle in Rutledge’s jaw twitched. “You little shit.” His other hand sank into Shawn’s hair and yanked him closer to his crotch. “Fine. You want a passing grade? Go ahead. Try to impress me.”

  Shawn sucked a breath in.

  Rutledge smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “Backing out already?”

  “No,” Shawn said firmly and reached for the guy’s zipper, telling himself it was just a dick. He would suck the guy’s dick and get a passing grade. How difficult could it possibly be? It would probably taste disgusting, but it wouldn’t kill him or anything.

  Right.

  Slowly, he unzipped the professor’s pants and then… then he stopped. No matter what he told himself, he couldn’t move, staring, transfixed, at the bulge under the man’s black boxers.

  Rutledge let out an irritated noise. “As I thought. Get out, and if you bother me again—”

  “No.” Shawn shoved a hand into Rutledge’s boxers and grabbed his cock.

  A beat passed.

  Shawn was torn between laughing hysterically and panicking. He had a hand on another guy’s cock. Professor Rutledge’s cock.

  It was warm in his hand. That was his first thought. It was growing and becoming thicker with every passing second. It freaked him out a bit, but it also gave him confidence. No matter what Rutledge said, he wanted him.

  Shawn gave it an experimental squeeze and looked at the guy. Rutledge’s face remained impassive. For some reason, that pissed Shawn off. He smiled. “Looks like you have a thing for ‘pretty, empty-headed boys,’ Professor.”

  Rutledge’s lips pressed together. Otherwise, he looked almost bored. “It’s just a physiological reaction to stimuli and a pretty face. You are not responsible for your physical appearance, so it’s hardly something to be proud of. Now, if you really intend to do it, stop wasting my time.”

  Glaring at him, Shawn stroked the cock to full hardness, watching a subtle change in the man’s breathing. The angle was awkward, so he pulled it out. It was big and thick—and very close to his face. Inches away. Shawn licked his lips nervously, unable to look away. It had to be at least eight inches long.

  Rutledge sighed, as though disgusted with his own body’s reaction, and shifted slightly. The head of his cock pressed against Shawn’s lips. “Suck.”

  Shawn inhaled carefully. It didn’t smell that bad. Tentatively, he licked the head. The taste was…strange but nowhere as terrible as he had expected. He licked again.

  The professor grunted, his hand gripping Shawn’s hair tighter. “Open your mouth.” It was an order.

  Shawn did as told, and the fat head pushed inside his mouth. Shawn sucked gently. A part of his mind was still stuck on the fact that he had Professor Rutledge’s dick in his mouth and couldn’t quite believe it, but the warmth and heaviness of the cock stretching his lips wide made it very, very real.

  Rutledge’s eyes were fixed on his face as he pushed his cock deeper, his hand heavy on the back of Shawn’s head. Shawn met his gaze, flushed, and closed his eyes, determined to just focus on getting the job done. The sooner Rutledge came, the sooner it would be over and the sooner he could forget about it.

  But with his eyes closed, his other senses came to life and he could feel everything more acutely.

  It was…so strange. Rutledge was hard and thick in his mouth, tasting like skin and something else. It was strange, but it wasn’t terrible. Shawn pulled off, took a breath and sucked the head in again, going down a bit further, testing it out. He had a brief moment of worry that he wasn’t doing this right, but told himself not to be silly: there was no such thing as a bad blowjob, right?

  Shawn went down a bit more, trying to take as much of the big cock in as he could. He went down, then back up, setting up a rhythm, trying to get used to it. He was focusing so hard on this, trying to count in his head, that it took him a while before he realized Rutledge was telling him something.

  Shawn pulled off the cock with a little pop and looked up at Rutledge, still tasting him all over his tongue. He blinked up at him and had to suppress the ridiculous urge to ask if he was doing okay, like a pupil eager to please his teacher. “What?” he said instead. As usual when he was nervous, his voice came out a bit cocky. He tended to overcompensate sometimes.

  Rutledge just looked at him for what seemed like forever, his dark eyes heavy-lidded and glazed over. Eventually he said, “Is this your first dick, Wyatt?” Rutledge’s voice was rough and guttural, as though he was the one who’d just spent the past few minutes with a dick in his mouth.

  “Does it matter?”

  Rutledge’s lips twisted. “No. But that explains why you’re so bad at it.”

  Shawn scowled and squeezed the guy’s erection. “Your dick seems to think I’m doing all right.”

  Rutledge sneered. “It just proves how easy we men are.” He looked at Shawn’s lips. “Go on, but stop overthinking it. You don’t think in class, but now you think too hard when you shouldn’t be thinking.”

  Shawn glowered at him but nodded.

  He gave Rutledge’s dick a few licks before wrapping his l
ips back around it and doing whatever he wanted, rhythm and concentration be damned.

  It was a lot messier this way. He went down as much as he could without choking, came back up and off, licking a long stripe up the underside of Rutledge’s dick and tonguing his slit, tasting salty bitterness.

  Shawn tried not to think about how obscene he probably looked like this, bobbing his head and dripping spit everywhere as he sucked his teacher’s cock. Rutledge was grunting and pushing down on his head, so he was clearly doing something right. Reassured, Shawn kept sucking, working his mouth faster now, ignoring the ache in his jaw and moving his hand faster all along the part of Rutledge’s cock he couldn’t fit in his mouth.

  “Open your eyes,” Rutledge bit out.

  Shawn did and looked up at him. Their eyes met, and Shawn flushed, acutely aware that his lips were still wrapped tightly around his professor’s cock. His professor’s cock. Jesus fucking Christ.

  “I’m going to fuck your mouth now,” Rutledge said, his tone conversational, as though he didn’t have his dick in his student’s mouth. “Sit back and let me do the job. Look at me.”

  Shawn felt his cheeks and neck redden, but he did as he was told. Rutledge shifted, his strong, big hands cradling his face. His cock slid out of Shawn’s mouth until only the head stayed in it. Shawn looked at Rutledge. The man looked back at him and thrust deep into his mouth. Shawn gasped, fighting his gag reflex and trying desperately to breathe around the cock, but he still held his professor’s gaze, as instructed.

  Rutledge’s nostrils flared, his eyes roaming all over Shawn’s face. He pulled out and thrust back in. Then again. And again. All the while looking at him. Shawn was sure he was blushing, because it felt incredibly filthy. It was his professor—the most feared professor in school—that was using his mouth to get off. Everything felt too much and overwhelming: the taste, the weight, the feel of Professor Rutledge’s cock in his mouth, the strong hands holding his face firmly as Rutledge thrust in and out of his mouth, Rutledge’s breath becoming more labored, his dark, intense eyes fixed on Shawn’s—

  Rutledge bucked his hips and Sam nearly choked, but he rode it out, feeling hot come hit the back of his throat, spurting in quick succession. Coughing, he let the softening cock out of his mouth.

  “Swallow,” Rutledge ordered.

  Shawn glared up at him but did as told, albeit with some difficulty. Thankfully, it didn’t taste as gross as he had expected.

  Looking down at him through heavy-lidded eyes, Rutledge took a deep breath. The next moment, his face closed off. He removed his hands and tucked himself in. “Passable.”

  Shawn didn’t know whether to laugh or punch the asshole in the face. He got to his feet, wiped his swollen lips and said, “Thanks, Professor.” His voice was hoarse and scratchy—from sucking his professor’s cock. “So, what about that grade?”

  A muscle pulsed in Rutledge’s cheek. He looked downright pissed off. “Dismissed, Wyatt.”

  Shawn left.

  As the door to the professor’s office closed behind him, Shawn breathed out. He couldn’t believe he’d actually done it. He had sucked another guy’s dick. He had let Derek Rutledge, of all people, fuck his mouth in exchange for a grade.

  Shawn flushed and looked around, suddenly paranoid that everyone could guess what had happened just from looking at him. But no one was paying him any attention. No one knew.

  Everything was fine.

  What was done was done. He could put the incident behind him and pretend it had never happened.

  Now he could only hope Rutledge would keep his end of the deal.

  Chapter 4

  “Relax, man,” Christian said, dropping into the seat next to him.

  “What do you mean?” Shawn said, glancing around the lecture hall before looking at his hands.

  “You’re tense as hell. Are you nervous about your grades? Didn’t you say you talked to Rutledge and convinced him to give you a second chance?”

  “Yeah, I did. He didn’t fail me yet—I just found out he gave me a D.” And god, it had been such a relief. Shawn didn’t think he had ever been so happy to receive a D.

  “Congrats,” Christian said with a grin, patting him on the back. “I’m still amazed you managed to convince him.”

  Shawn studiously avoided his friend’s eyes.

  “Speak of the devil,” Christian muttered.

  The instant hush that fell over the lecture hall was almost amusing. Almost.

  Shawn glanced at Rutledge’s tall form before dropping his gaze.

  “The midterm grades are in,” Rutledge said, without preamble. “I reported the grades of thirty-eight students whose grades were below C-. The reports were sent to the Office of the Registrar, which distributed them to the individual students.” He paused. “If you have any questions, ask.”

  Silence.

  Some guy lifted his hand.

  “Yes, Mr. Taylor?” Rutledge said, walking toward the student. Shawn didn’t look; he just saw it in his peripheral vision.

  “I don’t understand,” Taylor said. “I got an F, and apparently that’s it! I can’t even improve my grade? In every other class, midterm grades don’t affect our overall GPA. They’re pretty much there to tell us where we are in the class, and whether or not we need to work harder, but apparently, not in your class. What the—I don’t get it!”

  Shawn cringed.

  “Poor guy,” Christian muttered.

  There was a pause.

  “Mr. Taylor,” Rutledge said at last, his voice dangerously soft. “Have you read the syllabus?”

  “Well, yeah, sure.” Taylor sounded anything but sure.

  “If you read the syllabus, you would have known that in my class midterm grades do affect your final grades. In other words, if you receive a failing midterm grade, you will not get a passing final grade. No exceptions.”

  “But it’s not fair!” Taylor said. “That’s not how things are done! ”

  “That’s how things are done in my class.” If possible, Rutledge’s voice became even softer. “I will not pass a student who had an abysmal attendance record for half of the term and failed to turn in his assignments or turned them in late. If you read the syllabus, as I told you all to do on the first day of the term, you would not be in this predicament. You can thank only yourself. Do you have other questions? Intelligent questions?”

  “No,” Taylor grumbled.

  “Now are we done with that, or does anyone else want to waste my time with pointless questions you’re supposed to know the answers to?”

  The silence was almost eerie. No one dared to breathe.

  “Good.” Rutledge returned to his desk.

  “Wow,” Christian whispered, barely audibly. “What crawled up his ass and died?”

  Probably pissed off he couldn’t fail me, Shawn thought.

  His skin prickled. He looked up and found Rutledge giving him a look of such loathing it made him feel like he was being repelled from the room. Shawn lifted his chin and met his gaze firmly. Seriously, what was the guy’s problem? It wasn’t like he had forced Rutledge to put his dick into his student’s mouth.

  The thought—the memory—made Shawn blush and shift in his seat uncomfortably. Looking at Rutledge’s stony face, it was hard to believe it had really happened.

  But it happened.

  Shawn glanced at Rutledge’s hands—gripping his face as Rutledge pushed his cock into his mouth—

  Shawn licked his lips, his skin uncomfortably hot, and fixed his gaze in front of him.

  He wouldn’t think of it.

  He wouldn’t.

  * * *

  He had thought he could put the incident out of his mind. He had thought Rutledge would just ignore him after the incident.

  He had been wrong on both counts.

  Shawn sighed and stared moodily at the assignment in front of him. Rutledge had been incredibly difficult the past few days, giving him brutally difficult assignments and constantly scolding
him in front of everyone when Shawn failed to complete them to Rutledge’s satisfaction.

  “Are you done, Wyatt?” said a familiar cold voice, and Shawn tensed. He glanced at Christian to his left, but his friend eyed the book in front of him with exaggerated interest. Traitor.

  “I’ll be done soon,” Shawn lied. He stiffened when Rutledge put a hand on the desk and leaned down to look at the blank piece of paper in front of him.

  “I see,” Rutledge said.

  Shawn turned his head to glare at him and was taken aback by how close the other man’s face was. Inches away. Dark eyes locked with his for a moment before their owner’s lips twisted derisively. Rutledge straightened up to his impressive height and said, “Your assignment is due in ten minutes, Wyatt.”

  “But you said—”

  “Ten minutes,” Rutledge repeated in a voice that clearly said it would bear no argument.

  He walked away, and Shawn glowered at his back.

  He returned his gaze to the paper in front of him and stared at it sullenly. It wasn’t fair. How was he supposed to complete this assignment in such a short time? The questions were ridiculously difficult and barely reflected what they’d learned in class. Why couldn’t the asshole just leave him alone? It felt like Rutledge was determined to make his life a living hell—and he was succeeding.

  Shawn scowled, trying to keep his temper in check and failing. He was tired, sleep-deprived, hungry and angry—never a good combination.

  Later, he would blame everything on his sleep-deprivation. He would blame his sleep-deprivation for writing what he would have never written had he not been so damn tired, hungry and angry.

  Shawn turned in his “assignment” exactly ten minutes later and walked back to his desk. He wasn’t even halfway to his desk when Rutledge said, his voice very soft, “Mr. Wyatt, my office after your classes.”

  His mouth dry, Shawn nodded.

  Idiot, he told himself. He shouldn’t have let his temper get the better of him.