Fic: Educating Mr Snyder 4/? (NC-17)
Title: Educating Mr Snyder
Chapter: 4/?
Story Rating: Eventual NC-17
Fandom: As The World Turns
Pairing: Luke/Reid
Disclaimer: Luke and Reid aren't mine. Were they mine, Reid would not be dead, he and Luke would be having hot sex in a public space somewhere and we would all be eating popcorn and watching.
Summary: Okay, so this one time? sixtieshairdo and sexyscholar wrote this awesome fic after I mentioned that I was contemplating an AU!Luke/Reid fic with Reid as a brilliant, crusty English professor and Luke as his newest student - thanks to Daddy Grimaldi's hefty contribution to the university where he teaches. Anyway, after two months of writing it, I'm finally posting it.
Notes: Apologies for how long this took and the Luke/Noah in the last instalment. This chapter is nearly 6,000 words so I hope the length and the content helps you all forgive me!
Other Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4
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Educating Mr Snyder (4/?)
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When Professor Oliver refused to look in Luke's direction the first lesson after the 'incident', Luke told himself profusely that he didn’t care.
Even if he had sat front and centre, stared unblinkingly at the lecturer throughout and had then submitted an inappropriate story about lusting after authority figures, it didn’t mean the lack of response hurt Luke’s feelings.
Because it didn’t. Luke convinced himself it didn’t and he almost believed himself, too.
Of course, that was until the second lesson came along with nary an interaction between them. And then the third. And then the fourth.
By the fifth lesson, Luke was beginning to feel such a sense of frustration about the entire situation that he began to scrawl fraught anecdotes all over his notepad, from tortured poems about unrequited love to downright filth that was so explicit that it made Noah blush when he had accidentally chanced a look over Luke’s shoulder.
If Luke were honest with himself, he would have admitted that he didn't know what he had expected after the not-a-kiss in the auditorium. More flirting, perhaps. Maybe even a speech from the professor telling Luke that it hadn’t meant anything. This cold, awkward avoidance, however, was definitely not what he had hoped. If Luke wasn't so sure it had taken place, he could be forgiven for doubting that it had even happened in the first place.
But it had happened.
Even the most accomplished of writers couldn't invent the taste of Reid Oliver's breath as it ghosted over Luke’s tongue or how his burning eyes felt as they sizzled over Luke's skin like he was the only thing in the world.
Now, however, Professor Oliver did nothing more than continue to be the bad tempered, gifted and charismatic genius he had always been.
Absolutely unrelenting in his mission to educate his class, the professor meandered between using his brash opinions to engross them or adopting teaching methods so unorthodox that the occasional person questioned if they were strictly legal. He used his lectures to call out Chaucer, informed everyone that Hemingway was a horny old drunk and he declared that Dickens was nothing but a bleeding heart socialist. He tore pages out of books, recited choice passages from Orwell and was so enthralling to watch while he worked that the entire class seemed to hang on his every biting word.
In short, he was still his infuriating, brilliant self and all Luke could do in response was squirm in his seat and find it the most affecting thing in the world to watch.
It was embarrassing.
Which was why, this lesson, Luke would try to get back to focusing on the assignment he was due to hand in. He would not act like a lovesick puppy, he would not neglect his note-taking to draw ridiculous hearts in his margins and he would not daydream in the middle of class about what would have happened if Noah hadn’t walked into the auditorium that day.
So he ducked down his head and tried to write.
Unfortunately, he only got to the second line before Noah dropped a lurid matchbook on the paper he had been scribbling on.
Inclining his head slightly to the right, Luke looked wholeheartedly at the picture staring back at him with the interest only a teenager could truly muster.
" ‘Seamen Central’?" Luke repeated, his voice half amused, half intrigued as he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the two pictured sailors who had their tongues down each others' throats. Their caps and bellbottoms gleamed a blinding white, their striped navy t-shirts were tight and complimentary and the ‘SC’ of the ‘Seamen Central’ logo was tattooed on each of their well-oiled arms.
Their muscles shone back at Luke invitingly and prompted him to lean a little closer with interest. He ran his tongue across his teeth.
"Um, yeah, it's a new place, just opened up," Noah elaborated, scratching behind his ear. He seemed to be buzzing with a nervous type of energy that Luke hadn't seen from him before, as though he was broaching a topic that he wasn't quite sure how to approach. Noah tapped the matchbook with his index finger almost as an afterthought and Luke noticed his fingers were shaking slightly. "I was just wondering if you wanted to... I mean, we don't have to... but, you know, it’d be nice if we... maybe…"
Luke looked up at Noah with an almost wary smile.
A few weeks ago, Luke would have found Noah's bumbling nerves endearing. Right now, all he wanted to do was get to the point.
It was his own doing, really. As much as it pained him to admit it, Luke knew it spawned from his mistake.
It was one moment of weakness. One moment. And that one moment was all Professor Oliver’s fault.
Luke gave Noah a quizzical look.
"So... this is a date?" Luke asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.
Noah shrugged, looking both cocky and coy at the same time as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
"If you want to call it that," he said with a soft smile, looking up at Luke from under his lashes.
Luke, who really didn't want to call it that, picked up the matchbook and studied it in greater detail to avoid looking at Noah's hopeful eyes. The sailor on the right had curly auburn hair and a jaw strong enough to slice cheese on. Luke swallowed. He wondered if that was the reason why he couldn't stop gawping at it.
"So, do you want to go?"
Almost forgetting Noah was still there. Luke lifted up his rather distracted eyes and blinked at him almost stupidly. Shaking his head like a dog with water in its ears, he tried to get the glazed look off of his face.
"Er... sure, when?" Luke asked, sneaking another look down at the matchbook and feeling his body flush as he stared at the pink tongues on display.
Noah opened his mouth to answer but Casey dropped into the bench beside them and howled dramatically before he could.
"Whoa, put that thing away, would you!" he wailed, covering his eyes. He peeked through his fingers and Luke could see the white of his broad grin glinting back at them. "Seriously, dudes, too early in the morning. Give a guy a little warning next time, will you?"
"Oh, you're just jealous someone is getting more action than you," Maddie pointed out, her eyes lingering with interest over the picture before pointing at it, grinning and asking, "Got anymore of those, sailor?"
Luke smiled at them both so fondly - so fiercely that he was sure his face was about to split into two.
Perhaps it was because of how disastrous the Kevin-debacle was, the unfriendly way his mother had reacted when he first came out or Damian's elaborate plan to 'fix him' but Luke appreciated that they were both still there - exactly the same as they always were - more than he could ever tell them.
Somewhere in the back of his head, he could hear a Professor Oliver-like voice telling him he was nothing but a sentimental idiot.
Blushing, Luke tried to ignore it.
And then the real Professor Oliver walked into the room.
Immediately sitting bolt upright with attention, Luke almost elbowed his notebook off the table in his enthusiasm.
"Yes, I'm late," the professor snapped as rainwater seeped through his hair and his clothes, leaving little puddles on the stage and his jacket bleeding a darker shade than usual. His glasses had misted up and Luke told himself this should have been comical. The way the professor's clothes clung to him like a second skin, however, was anything but funny.
Angrily dropping the broken umbrella in his hand into the wastebasket with a loud clang!, Reid Oliver looked a little more harried than usual as he glared at his students.
"No, you may not know why I was late and no, this does not mean I haven't had time to mark your dismal assignments, which were frankly so appalling I don't know how I survived reading them without choking myself on them."
Storming over to his desk, he shucked off his soaking jacket and used the back of his hand to wipe at the wetness that dripped from his hair to his temple. Suddenly feeling thirsty, Luke leaned forward and watched, mesmerised by every move the lecturer made.
Briefcase on desk. Glasses off. Handkerchief pulled swiftly from pocket. Lenses cleaned. Glasses back on. Briefcase locks opened. Items pulled out. A folder. A red pen. A green pen. Four Hardbacks. Placed neatly on desk. Worshipful. Almost loving. Fingers linger over one book. Dorian Gray.
Luke devoured the scene and checked off the actions like there was a list in his head. Whom the professor stared at, whom he glared at, whom he pointed at and the variety of different ways he insulted them when he did. Luke went through them all like they were a ritual in his mind. Every action, every look, every word, every breath.
And Professor Oliver didn’t once look back at Luke.
“Now, after trawling through that sea of cliches and bad grammar," the professor continued, shuddering slightly as he recalled a particularly hideous typo that had kept him awake at night, “somehow, I dug deep within myself and found the strength to give constructive criticism. In some cases, this consisted of throwing the abomination in the trash and setting it alight so it can never be read by anyone ever again. In all other cases, I point out the gross ineptitude of the author in the margins." He pulled out the marked assignments (which looked more red pen than white paper) from one of his crisp folders before dropping them in front of a particularly scared looking redhead. He then stared up at the ceiling in exasperation. "For Christ's sake, stop gulping at me and hand them out."
The noise of rustling paper filled the room as the assignments moved between the students, passed along from person to person until they finally found their rightful owner. Before long, a few familiar-looking sheets were handed over to Luke from the row above him.
Taking a look at them, his shoulders slumped.
He should have felt used to seeing the giant 'F' in red but it still made his heart drop to his stomach every time he did.
"F, too, huh?" Maddie sighed at Luke, wincing at what she assumed was once her work. It was hard to tell under all the red ink.
“Yeah,” Luke said hollowly, folding the assignment in half so he didn’t have to look at his failure. He almost didn't know why he bothered. It should have given him some solace that groans emitted from everyone else in the room but it really didn't. Even Casey, who usually got along fine by using Professor Oliver's books as a reference, had dropped his head into his hands and moaned.
"You've got to be kidding me, I quoted half his book!"
Looking back at Professor Oliver, Luke shook his head with awe as realisation slowly began to dawn on him.
Reid Oliver had actually listened to him about the fairness of his marking. He had been impartial, he had been objective and he hadn’t humoured the students who used his bias over his own novels to gain more marks.
A grin overtook Luke's face before he could even stop it.
Reid Oliver had listened to him.
"Psst, Snyder!" a student he knew as Hunter hissed at him from the next row along, brandishing a few sheets of paper at Luke. He then smiled. "Good going, man."
"For what?" Luke asked absently as he took the papers from him but Hunter had already gone back to the important task of winking at Maddie while Casey looked unamused.
Shrugging, Luke looked down at the second assignment in his hands before his jaw dropped open.
Good work.
Luke looked from his grumpy professor to the big giant 'B' on his paper, running his fingers almost reverently across the green scrawl on his assignment. He then let out an uneven breath as the smell of paper and old books and ink almost suffocated his senses. Something stirred deep inside his belly, made his veins pulse with want and filled him with a yearning so strong that his head spun and his skin tingled with heat.
Wetting his parched mouth, Luke fixed his eyes on Reid before croaking out to Noah,
"Tonight."
Blinking with confusion, Noah leaned his head a little closer to Luke.
"Tonight?" he whispered with a bemused smile.
“That bar. The date. We should go tonight,” Luke said, swallowing hard as his eyes remained fixed on the professor. His heart thumped hard within his chest as Reid looked up and their eyes briefly locked for the first time in weeks. The professor then quickly turned away and Luke pretended that it didn't hurt.
"Okay," Noah replied, his face breaking into a pleased grin that Luke barely noticed. “Tonight, it is.”
Luke nodded absently in reply, tearing his gaze away from the man standing at the front of the room.
He needed to get Professor Oliver out of his system and if he had to go out on a date with Noah to do it, then go on a date Luke would.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
The very first time Luke saw 'Seaman Central', he bit hard on the tip of his tongue, twisted his lips until they felt numb and tried terribly hard not to laugh out loud.
The snort that escaped him when he saw Blackbeard the Pirate working the door, however, simply could not be helped.
Luke hadn’t expected a great deal of class from an establishment with a name like ‘Seaman Central’ but this place looked like the rather warped lovechild of a Mexican brothel and the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyworld. If the fake ship sitting on the roof of the building wasn't already in bad enough taste, the bright neon lights flashing 'Seaman Central’ in every colour under the sun certainly pushed it quite firmly into tacky territory. Lifebuoys were suspended from every available inch of the building, a papier-mâché mermaid appeared to have been hoisted up onto the mast and the glittery writing on the side of the ship proclaimed that the ‘HMS Rainbow’ was ready to set sail.
And that was just the exterior.
"Holy crap," Noah said when they stepped through the door, staring with a mixture of horror, amusement and genuine interest at the sailor boys gyrating in the hold under their feet.
Naval paraphernalia adorned the interior walls as they had the exterior, from large compasses that pointed to 'S' for 'Sexy' to rather unconvincingly weathered maps that smelled like coffee. The shape of the club wove unevenly around the edges of the building and private rooms were placed in every nook available, nautical-themed and lined with aquarium walls that had actual fish swimming in them.
The main room was shaped like the deck of a ship; huge, wood-panelled and lined with cages filled with dancers. At the front of the room were two short sets of stairs, leading up to a small stage where the DJ stood, a navigator's wheel and his decks in front of him.
Songs like 'Macho, Macho Man', 'YMCA' and dance mixes of 'Don't Rain on my Parade' thundered out of the speakers as hundreds of men, women and those in-between ground against each other in unison, their bodies pulsing to the music. The sailors in the hold underneath them continued to vibrate under their feet, moving in time to their counterparts in the square cages above.
Luke stared at it all with amazement. This place was cheesy, trashy and depraved.
It was fantastic.
“Wow,” said Noah, laughing as he blinked at the elaborate sights. “I guess you don’t see a place like this every day.”
Luke grinned back.
“Definitely not,” he agreed as a man in a dress blew him a kiss as he passed. Chuckling about it, Luke and Noah made their way over to a less hectic side of the room, where a small side bar stood closed and a couple of barstools sat vacant. Sitting down, they looked across at the wild scene around them, enjoying the view.
Luke watched the chaotic main bar across the room and the throngs of people waving their money, chanting for service and harassing the lone pirate bartender for drinks. His hat was bent askew, his stuffed parrot had drooped over his shoulder and he looked dangerously like he was going to unsheathe his plastic sword and attack his customers with it.
It made Luke grin. Pointing it out to Noah, they joked about a real-life pirate attack and soon settled into comfortable conversation about school, the books they had to read and the films they both liked.
Luke grinned at him, having a surprisingly good time. Noah smiled back, looking equally as content. He really did have a nice smile.
“So, drink?” Noah eventually asked.
“You’re brave enough to fight through that?” Luke replied, gesturing towards the bar, where people were now leaning over and trying to drink beer from the taps.
“What, you don’t think I can handle it?” Noah asked, pretending to sound mortally offended. Luke threw up his hands in mock-surrender.
“Okay, okay! You’re manly and capable. I’m sorry for doubting you.” Dropping his hands, he smiled warmly. “Just an orange juice, thanks.”
“Coming right up,” Noah said with a salute before heading off, making Luke shake his head after him in amusement.
He really was a nerd. It was sort of endearing.
"Can I get you a drink, good-looking?" a smooth voice suddenly purred into Luke's ear as soon as Noah disappeared behind a crowd of people. Amazed at how fast people worked, Luke turned and found himself caught in the smouldering gaze of an attractive brunette. He was in his mid-thirties, well-dressed, very cute and had Luke seen him under any other circumstances he may have found himself attracted to him. As it was, Luke really wasn't very interested.
Blushing at the attention, Luke shook his head at the stranger politely in refusal and tried to look after Noah.
"Um, thanks for the offer but I don't..." Luke's voice faltered slightly. The closed bar he was leaning against began to light up and a barmaid had shuffled over in a wench's outfit, her bosom spilling over in a way Luke was sure was lost on the majority of the clientele.
"Can I get anything for you?" she asked the two men. Luke looked over his shoulder, trying to find Noah in the crowd. If he knew what Noah wanted to drink, he could have saved Noah the hassle of the wading through the angry mob.
"Um-" Luke began but the stranger cut in suavely.
"A glass of your best champagne and whatever handsome here wants."
"I really don't need a drink, my friend is getting one for me..." Luke tried again but the man waved this off.
"I insist," the stranger said firmly. "Whatever you want."
Whatever he wanted...
Luke turned and looked at the florescent bottles gleaming over the barmaid's shoulder, like bright colours of liquid temptation. Luke felt his fingers twitch at his sides.
“Come on, dimples, indulge me,” the man said slickly, his smile charismatic and predatory all at once. “What harm will one drink do?”
Luke mulled this question over in his head before looking back at the elaborate glass bottles lined up one after the other. Each bottle seemed to be more enticing than the one before.
Luke wet his lips.
He had already been denied of enough of the things he wanted. What harm was there in indulging a little?
Feeling emboldened, he sat up a little straighter in his chair and smiled back at the stranger.
"Rum and coke, thanks."
The man smiled silkily and motioned at the barmaid to carry out the request before leaning back to sweep his eyes appreciatively over Luke's form. After what felt like hours, he finally opened his mouth and said,
"You're adorable.”
Luke laughed uncomfortably, focusing on the barmaid as she poured something that looked suspiciously like sparkling wine into a champagne flute. She then mixed Luke’s rum and coke and topped if off with a straw, pushing the flute in the direction of the generous stranger and the tumbler towards Luke.
The dark, pungent smell of the rum drifted up Luke’s nostrils and he happily let himself drown in it, ignoring the shrill voice in the back of his head that was telling him to back away from the situation.
Leaning forward, he picked up the icy glass and swirled the dark liquid around in it, revelling in the way the cold nipped sharply at the pads of his fingers.
He then closed his eyes, lifted the glass to his lips and was about to take his first sip when a strong hand closed around his wrist, stopping him.
Snapping his eyes open, Luke nearly slipped off his seat as Professor Oliver's angry blue eyes glared down at him.
"Are you a complete idiot?" the older man asked him in an infuriated voice.
"Er, excuse me, pal," piped up the brunette, looking a little irked that his play was being interrupted. Luke simply gawped at his professor with his mouth hanging open unattractively, sure he must have been imagining him. "I think you'll find that the kid is with me-"
"And I think you'll find that the kid isn't even legal, you moron," Reid snapped back, his hand tightening around Luke’s wrist almost possessively as he spoke. Luke just stared transfixed at the fingers on his skin, his drink long forgotten. “So, unless you want to end up in a jail cell, I suggest you back the hell off.”
The stranger opened his mouth and looked like he wanted to argue some more but, after braving the look Reid was throwing at him and deciding this fight wasn't worth it, he snapped his mouth shut. Picking up his drink, he then prissily took the one out of Luke's hand as well before stalking off to find another potential bedfellow.
Still sitting there with his mouth hanging open, Luke blinked repeatedly at his professor and wondered if hell had frozen over
Professor Oliver couldn't be here. He couldn’t have stopped Luke from having a drink and saved him from the unwanted advances of a stranger as well. It was just too noble. Too dashing. Too Darcy or Heathcliffe or some other fabulously tragic romance hero.
He was Luke's knight in shining armour.
Of course, knights in shining armour didn't usually look like they were going to smack their damsels over the head like Reid Oliver suddenly did. Luke winced as the professor dropped his wrist like it had offended him, staring at Luke with angry exasperation.
"Of all the stupid, bonehead things to- seriously, were you dropped on your head as a child or were you just born brainless? You had a kidney transplant, you idiot. Are you trying to undo everything?"
Luke stared, his eyes as big as hubcaps. He hadn't even told Noah about his drinking.
"How did you know about my-"
"I’m your teacher, Einstein. It’s in your records," the professor said harshly, his unimpressed tone cutting deep into Luke. "So you can count yourself lucky, Mr Snyder. Next time, I won’t be there to stop you from being an imbecile.”
But I want you to be there, Luke wanted to say desperately. He wanted to lean forward. He wanted the professor's hands on him again. He wanted to grab his face and drink in his lips, sure they would give his alcohol addiction a run for its money. But he didn't. Instead, he gulped loudly and remarked, almost out of the blue,
“Why are you even here?”
Professor Oliver tilted his head at Luke, running his eyes over him. When the stranger had done it, Luke had felt bashful but amused. When Reid Oliver did it, he wanted to both launch himself at him and melt into a puddle at his feet.
“And my being here is your business because…?” the professor asked lightly, his eyes giving nothing away in the dim light.
“It’s a gay club,” Luke said almost stupidly.
Professor Oliver looked over his spectacles at Luke like he was a moron.
“Funnily enough, I had gathered that.”
“People come here to hook up,” Luke carried on, unable to stop his mouth from stating the obvious. Despite himself, Professor Oliver’s thin mouth twitched to a slight smirk.
“Again, another thing I’m aware of,” he returned smoothly.
Luke let out an exhale at his words, his heart feeling lighter by the second. He had missed this. This chance to talk to him - just them - one on one. He had missed the professor’s voice. His strange little quirks. His biting wit. The way he pushed up his glasses when they began to slip down. Luke had just missed him.
And then the reason why he missed the professor suddenly floated back into his brain.
“You’ve been ignoring me,” Luke said bluntly. Professor Oliver’s small smirk dropped from his mouth quicker than a flash.
“And you give yourself far too much credit,” he said in a short, blank voice, shutting Luke out. It made Luke want to scream and hit the professor until he listened but Luke didn’t do either of these things. Instead, he took another deep breath and steeled his courage.
“Look, if this is about what happened that day in the auditorium-” Luke broached.
“Nothing happened in the auditorium,” Professor Oliver cut in coldly.
“You know that’s not true.”
Professor Oliver groaned and stared up at the ceiling, as though asking the Gods why they were torturing him like this. He looked tired. He looked fed up. His mask of composure was barely staying on.
“What do you want from me, Mr Snyder?” he asked genuinely, staring at Luke like he had nothing more to give.
Letting out a breath, Luke decided to bite the bullet.
"I am legal, you know.”
Blinking for a second, Professor Oliver soon raised a wary eyebrow and looked unsure of where Luke was going with this.
“Excuse me?” he asked.
“You told that guy who was hitting on me that I wasn’t legal,” Luke elaborated, his voice breathy and desperate with just the professor’s proximity. Thinking for a second, he took a step closer, feeling brave. “I am.”
“Barely,” Reid said shortly as he took a step back, his eyes suddenly devoid of any emotion. Luke could practically hear the professor’s brain closing off his feelings.
"Reid..." Luke persisted, feeling nervous but bold enough to place his hand over where the professor's sat on the bar. Its warmth seemed to tingle up Luke’s arm and fill his body with contentment. "I'm still legal."
Reid's eyes seemed transfixed on their joined hands. After a few seconds of gazing, he eventually opened his mouth to reply.
"I thought I told you on your first day to never call me by my first name," he said, not sounding half as sardonic as he probably wished he had.
Luke took this as an invitation to take another step closer. He could feel the professor's heat through his clothes. It felt exhilarating to be that close to him.
"Are you going to kick me out of your class now because I called you ‘Reid’?" Luke murmured.
Professor Oliver licked his lips. Luke wanted to lean forward and catch his tongue with his teeth.
"I should refuse to teach you," Reid said hoarsely. "You're insolent."
"I have an opinion."
"You backtalk."
Luke broke into a slow, knowing smile. It looked sultry on his lips.
"You like it."
"No, I don't," Reid returned, quicker than a heartbeat. Luke shook his head. The professor had responded far too swiftly for Luke to truly believe him.
"You like me," Luke persisted, relentless in his approach. Professor Oliver smirked wryly at him, his thin lips only slightly curled at the edges.
"I don't like anybody.”
"I don't think that's true."
"What you think, Mr Snyder, would barely fill a thimble."
“Then why did you give me a ‘B’?”
To Luke’s surprise, Professor Oliver took a minuscule step forward so their chests touched a fraction. It made Luke’s legs tremble and his body ache with need.
“A moment of madness,” Reid said simply, his deep voice sounding like sex to Luke’s ears. Luke leaned forward tentatively, his eyelids heavy and hooded. He was suddenly finding it very difficult to concentrate.
“You know,” he said, his voice cracking, “some people say that ‘no great genius has ever existed without some touch of madness’.”
This time Professor Oliver was the one to look impressed. Despite himself, he let out a chuff of a laugh and shook his head, his eyes glittering back at Luke in the dark.
“An eighteen year old who quotes Aristotle,” the professor said, unable to keep the admiration out of his voice. He blinked at Luke, as though seeing him properly for the first time, the soft smile on his face a genuine one. “Not bad.” His face was suddenly, dangerously, close. Luke held his breath. "Not bad at all..."
A forehead pressed against Luke's and a nose softly bumped his own. A hand almost tentatively cupped the side of Luke's face and Luke had to fight to keep his eyes open because it all felt just too damn right. He finally let out his exhale.
This wasn't just lust. This was tender, this was reverential and this felt suspiciously like the beginnings of love. It should have terrified him and sent him running in the other direction but all Luke really wanted to do was drown in this feeling until he died.
"Reid..." Luke moaned almost worshipfully, clutching at the front of the professor's shirt to bring him as close as humanly possible. He wanted to smell him on his clothes, taste him on his lips and feel his soft hair under his fingers. Luke wanted him all around him, pressed against him and deep inside of him. "Please..." Luke begged, clawing at the professor desperately, offering himself completely. “Reid… please. I want you, I want this, I-”
A strong pair of lips claimed Luke’s mouth before he could finish, feverish and hungry and descending with such speed and fervour that Luke could feel his lips bruising with the impact.
Throwing his arms around the professor’s neck, they kissed like their lives depended on it while thumping music and a tidal wave of people pounded around them. Luke’s hands were everywhere he could touch, from clutching handfuls of Reid’s hair to running down his sides, touching his face and smoothing down his collarbone to frantically undo the knot of his tie.
Luke felt himself being pulled out of his chair and nudged towards a doorway as he suctioned his lips to Professor Oliver’s neck, happy to let the professor manhandle him to wherever it was he wanted to take them.
Luke barely registered where they had blindly stumbled into but when they landed on top of a pile of coats and he saw Noah's beige jacket trapped under their bodies, it turned him on even more than he already was.
Reid’s hands made quick work of Luke’s shirt buttons and belt, unfastening and unclipping so hurriedly that his fingers occasionally fumbled until they finally managed their goal. Luke bit his lip hard as a hand skimmed down his bare chest and brushed against his nipple. The nerves of his body were so heightened that he felt like every part of him was on fire, his pants straining so tightly that he was beginning to see spots in his vision. He didn’t think he was going to last much longer.
"Oh, Christ, I've never had...” he tried to speak but then gasped at the hardness that thrust against his own. Lifting up his hips wantonly, Luke sought out Reid’s lips again and pulled them back to his own.
“Never had what?” Reid hissed back against his mouth, undulating and rocking his body against Luke’s jean-clad erection so frenziedly that they could barely speak. Luke threw back his head and continued to grind, seeing stars begin to blink in front of his eyes. He could scarcely remember his own name.
“I… sex…” Luke moaned against Reid’s lips, licking the lips in front of him “Never… done... not before..."
Reid's body froze on the spot.
Luke felt his eyesight petering in and out of blackness as he continued to clutch desperately at the sides of Reid's face, as though he was the one anchor keeping Luke from slipping completely into unconsciousness. Luke then let out a breath that burned deep in his chest, making him feel as though he couldn't get enough air into his lungs
He swooped in for another kiss but Reid moved back, out of reach. His complexion had gone from flushed with lust to pale and almost sickly in the space of a few minutes. His slender hands closed over the ones desperately grasping at his face before prying them off, the tips of Luke's fingers leaving white fingerprint marks on his cheeks. Reid then shook his head.
"What in the hell are you thinking, Oliver?" he muttered aloud in an appalled voice, apparently talking to himself. He then looked back at Luke and winced, jumping to his feet as though the blond had suddenly transformed into something so hideous he couldn't bare to look it directly in the eye. Reid swallowed hard and fumbled behind him to close his hand over the cloakroom doorknob. "I-I can't do this," he said before pulling the door open and leaving.
Luke watched him go, his mouth open in shock and frustration, his body still painfully turned on. Looking down at himself, Luke groaned dropped his head back on the coats, the buttons on Noah's jacket digging into his back.
He really needed a cold shower.
previous chapter | next chapter
Chapter: 4/?
Story Rating: Eventual NC-17
Fandom: As The World Turns
Pairing: Luke/Reid
Disclaimer: Luke and Reid aren't mine. Were they mine, Reid would not be dead, he and Luke would be having hot sex in a public space somewhere and we would all be eating popcorn and watching.
Summary: Okay, so this one time? sixtieshairdo and sexyscholar wrote this awesome fic after I mentioned that I was contemplating an AU!Luke/Reid fic with Reid as a brilliant, crusty English professor and Luke as his newest student - thanks to Daddy Grimaldi's hefty contribution to the university where he teaches. Anyway, after two months of writing it, I'm finally posting it.
Notes: Apologies for how long this took and the Luke/Noah in the last instalment. This chapter is nearly 6,000 words so I hope the length and the content helps you all forgive me!
Other Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4
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Educating Mr Snyder (4/?)
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When Professor Oliver refused to look in Luke's direction the first lesson after the 'incident', Luke told himself profusely that he didn’t care.
Even if he had sat front and centre, stared unblinkingly at the lecturer throughout and had then submitted an inappropriate story about lusting after authority figures, it didn’t mean the lack of response hurt Luke’s feelings.
Because it didn’t. Luke convinced himself it didn’t and he almost believed himself, too.
Of course, that was until the second lesson came along with nary an interaction between them. And then the third. And then the fourth.
By the fifth lesson, Luke was beginning to feel such a sense of frustration about the entire situation that he began to scrawl fraught anecdotes all over his notepad, from tortured poems about unrequited love to downright filth that was so explicit that it made Noah blush when he had accidentally chanced a look over Luke’s shoulder.
If Luke were honest with himself, he would have admitted that he didn't know what he had expected after the not-a-kiss in the auditorium. More flirting, perhaps. Maybe even a speech from the professor telling Luke that it hadn’t meant anything. This cold, awkward avoidance, however, was definitely not what he had hoped. If Luke wasn't so sure it had taken place, he could be forgiven for doubting that it had even happened in the first place.
But it had happened.
Even the most accomplished of writers couldn't invent the taste of Reid Oliver's breath as it ghosted over Luke’s tongue or how his burning eyes felt as they sizzled over Luke's skin like he was the only thing in the world.
Now, however, Professor Oliver did nothing more than continue to be the bad tempered, gifted and charismatic genius he had always been.
Absolutely unrelenting in his mission to educate his class, the professor meandered between using his brash opinions to engross them or adopting teaching methods so unorthodox that the occasional person questioned if they were strictly legal. He used his lectures to call out Chaucer, informed everyone that Hemingway was a horny old drunk and he declared that Dickens was nothing but a bleeding heart socialist. He tore pages out of books, recited choice passages from Orwell and was so enthralling to watch while he worked that the entire class seemed to hang on his every biting word.
In short, he was still his infuriating, brilliant self and all Luke could do in response was squirm in his seat and find it the most affecting thing in the world to watch.
It was embarrassing.
Which was why, this lesson, Luke would try to get back to focusing on the assignment he was due to hand in. He would not act like a lovesick puppy, he would not neglect his note-taking to draw ridiculous hearts in his margins and he would not daydream in the middle of class about what would have happened if Noah hadn’t walked into the auditorium that day.
So he ducked down his head and tried to write.
Unfortunately, he only got to the second line before Noah dropped a lurid matchbook on the paper he had been scribbling on.
Inclining his head slightly to the right, Luke looked wholeheartedly at the picture staring back at him with the interest only a teenager could truly muster.
" ‘Seamen Central’?" Luke repeated, his voice half amused, half intrigued as he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the two pictured sailors who had their tongues down each others' throats. Their caps and bellbottoms gleamed a blinding white, their striped navy t-shirts were tight and complimentary and the ‘SC’ of the ‘Seamen Central’ logo was tattooed on each of their well-oiled arms.
Their muscles shone back at Luke invitingly and prompted him to lean a little closer with interest. He ran his tongue across his teeth.
"Um, yeah, it's a new place, just opened up," Noah elaborated, scratching behind his ear. He seemed to be buzzing with a nervous type of energy that Luke hadn't seen from him before, as though he was broaching a topic that he wasn't quite sure how to approach. Noah tapped the matchbook with his index finger almost as an afterthought and Luke noticed his fingers were shaking slightly. "I was just wondering if you wanted to... I mean, we don't have to... but, you know, it’d be nice if we... maybe…"
Luke looked up at Noah with an almost wary smile.
A few weeks ago, Luke would have found Noah's bumbling nerves endearing. Right now, all he wanted to do was get to the point.
It was his own doing, really. As much as it pained him to admit it, Luke knew it spawned from his mistake.
It was one moment of weakness. One moment. And that one moment was all Professor Oliver’s fault.
Luke gave Noah a quizzical look.
"So... this is a date?" Luke asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.
Noah shrugged, looking both cocky and coy at the same time as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
"If you want to call it that," he said with a soft smile, looking up at Luke from under his lashes.
Luke, who really didn't want to call it that, picked up the matchbook and studied it in greater detail to avoid looking at Noah's hopeful eyes. The sailor on the right had curly auburn hair and a jaw strong enough to slice cheese on. Luke swallowed. He wondered if that was the reason why he couldn't stop gawping at it.
"So, do you want to go?"
Almost forgetting Noah was still there. Luke lifted up his rather distracted eyes and blinked at him almost stupidly. Shaking his head like a dog with water in its ears, he tried to get the glazed look off of his face.
"Er... sure, when?" Luke asked, sneaking another look down at the matchbook and feeling his body flush as he stared at the pink tongues on display.
Noah opened his mouth to answer but Casey dropped into the bench beside them and howled dramatically before he could.
"Whoa, put that thing away, would you!" he wailed, covering his eyes. He peeked through his fingers and Luke could see the white of his broad grin glinting back at them. "Seriously, dudes, too early in the morning. Give a guy a little warning next time, will you?"
"Oh, you're just jealous someone is getting more action than you," Maddie pointed out, her eyes lingering with interest over the picture before pointing at it, grinning and asking, "Got anymore of those, sailor?"
Luke smiled at them both so fondly - so fiercely that he was sure his face was about to split into two.
Perhaps it was because of how disastrous the Kevin-debacle was, the unfriendly way his mother had reacted when he first came out or Damian's elaborate plan to 'fix him' but Luke appreciated that they were both still there - exactly the same as they always were - more than he could ever tell them.
Somewhere in the back of his head, he could hear a Professor Oliver-like voice telling him he was nothing but a sentimental idiot.
Blushing, Luke tried to ignore it.
And then the real Professor Oliver walked into the room.
Immediately sitting bolt upright with attention, Luke almost elbowed his notebook off the table in his enthusiasm.
"Yes, I'm late," the professor snapped as rainwater seeped through his hair and his clothes, leaving little puddles on the stage and his jacket bleeding a darker shade than usual. His glasses had misted up and Luke told himself this should have been comical. The way the professor's clothes clung to him like a second skin, however, was anything but funny.
Angrily dropping the broken umbrella in his hand into the wastebasket with a loud clang!, Reid Oliver looked a little more harried than usual as he glared at his students.
"No, you may not know why I was late and no, this does not mean I haven't had time to mark your dismal assignments, which were frankly so appalling I don't know how I survived reading them without choking myself on them."
Storming over to his desk, he shucked off his soaking jacket and used the back of his hand to wipe at the wetness that dripped from his hair to his temple. Suddenly feeling thirsty, Luke leaned forward and watched, mesmerised by every move the lecturer made.
Briefcase on desk. Glasses off. Handkerchief pulled swiftly from pocket. Lenses cleaned. Glasses back on. Briefcase locks opened. Items pulled out. A folder. A red pen. A green pen. Four Hardbacks. Placed neatly on desk. Worshipful. Almost loving. Fingers linger over one book. Dorian Gray.
Luke devoured the scene and checked off the actions like there was a list in his head. Whom the professor stared at, whom he glared at, whom he pointed at and the variety of different ways he insulted them when he did. Luke went through them all like they were a ritual in his mind. Every action, every look, every word, every breath.
And Professor Oliver didn’t once look back at Luke.
“Now, after trawling through that sea of cliches and bad grammar," the professor continued, shuddering slightly as he recalled a particularly hideous typo that had kept him awake at night, “somehow, I dug deep within myself and found the strength to give constructive criticism. In some cases, this consisted of throwing the abomination in the trash and setting it alight so it can never be read by anyone ever again. In all other cases, I point out the gross ineptitude of the author in the margins." He pulled out the marked assignments (which looked more red pen than white paper) from one of his crisp folders before dropping them in front of a particularly scared looking redhead. He then stared up at the ceiling in exasperation. "For Christ's sake, stop gulping at me and hand them out."
The noise of rustling paper filled the room as the assignments moved between the students, passed along from person to person until they finally found their rightful owner. Before long, a few familiar-looking sheets were handed over to Luke from the row above him.
Taking a look at them, his shoulders slumped.
He should have felt used to seeing the giant 'F' in red but it still made his heart drop to his stomach every time he did.
"F, too, huh?" Maddie sighed at Luke, wincing at what she assumed was once her work. It was hard to tell under all the red ink.
“Yeah,” Luke said hollowly, folding the assignment in half so he didn’t have to look at his failure. He almost didn't know why he bothered. It should have given him some solace that groans emitted from everyone else in the room but it really didn't. Even Casey, who usually got along fine by using Professor Oliver's books as a reference, had dropped his head into his hands and moaned.
"You've got to be kidding me, I quoted half his book!"
Looking back at Professor Oliver, Luke shook his head with awe as realisation slowly began to dawn on him.
Reid Oliver had actually listened to him about the fairness of his marking. He had been impartial, he had been objective and he hadn’t humoured the students who used his bias over his own novels to gain more marks.
A grin overtook Luke's face before he could even stop it.
Reid Oliver had listened to him.
"Psst, Snyder!" a student he knew as Hunter hissed at him from the next row along, brandishing a few sheets of paper at Luke. He then smiled. "Good going, man."
"For what?" Luke asked absently as he took the papers from him but Hunter had already gone back to the important task of winking at Maddie while Casey looked unamused.
Shrugging, Luke looked down at the second assignment in his hands before his jaw dropped open.
Good work.
Luke looked from his grumpy professor to the big giant 'B' on his paper, running his fingers almost reverently across the green scrawl on his assignment. He then let out an uneven breath as the smell of paper and old books and ink almost suffocated his senses. Something stirred deep inside his belly, made his veins pulse with want and filled him with a yearning so strong that his head spun and his skin tingled with heat.
Wetting his parched mouth, Luke fixed his eyes on Reid before croaking out to Noah,
"Tonight."
Blinking with confusion, Noah leaned his head a little closer to Luke.
"Tonight?" he whispered with a bemused smile.
“That bar. The date. We should go tonight,” Luke said, swallowing hard as his eyes remained fixed on the professor. His heart thumped hard within his chest as Reid looked up and their eyes briefly locked for the first time in weeks. The professor then quickly turned away and Luke pretended that it didn't hurt.
"Okay," Noah replied, his face breaking into a pleased grin that Luke barely noticed. “Tonight, it is.”
Luke nodded absently in reply, tearing his gaze away from the man standing at the front of the room.
He needed to get Professor Oliver out of his system and if he had to go out on a date with Noah to do it, then go on a date Luke would.
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The very first time Luke saw 'Seaman Central', he bit hard on the tip of his tongue, twisted his lips until they felt numb and tried terribly hard not to laugh out loud.
The snort that escaped him when he saw Blackbeard the Pirate working the door, however, simply could not be helped.
Luke hadn’t expected a great deal of class from an establishment with a name like ‘Seaman Central’ but this place looked like the rather warped lovechild of a Mexican brothel and the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyworld. If the fake ship sitting on the roof of the building wasn't already in bad enough taste, the bright neon lights flashing 'Seaman Central’ in every colour under the sun certainly pushed it quite firmly into tacky territory. Lifebuoys were suspended from every available inch of the building, a papier-mâché mermaid appeared to have been hoisted up onto the mast and the glittery writing on the side of the ship proclaimed that the ‘HMS Rainbow’ was ready to set sail.
And that was just the exterior.
"Holy crap," Noah said when they stepped through the door, staring with a mixture of horror, amusement and genuine interest at the sailor boys gyrating in the hold under their feet.
Naval paraphernalia adorned the interior walls as they had the exterior, from large compasses that pointed to 'S' for 'Sexy' to rather unconvincingly weathered maps that smelled like coffee. The shape of the club wove unevenly around the edges of the building and private rooms were placed in every nook available, nautical-themed and lined with aquarium walls that had actual fish swimming in them.
The main room was shaped like the deck of a ship; huge, wood-panelled and lined with cages filled with dancers. At the front of the room were two short sets of stairs, leading up to a small stage where the DJ stood, a navigator's wheel and his decks in front of him.
Songs like 'Macho, Macho Man', 'YMCA' and dance mixes of 'Don't Rain on my Parade' thundered out of the speakers as hundreds of men, women and those in-between ground against each other in unison, their bodies pulsing to the music. The sailors in the hold underneath them continued to vibrate under their feet, moving in time to their counterparts in the square cages above.
Luke stared at it all with amazement. This place was cheesy, trashy and depraved.
It was fantastic.
“Wow,” said Noah, laughing as he blinked at the elaborate sights. “I guess you don’t see a place like this every day.”
Luke grinned back.
“Definitely not,” he agreed as a man in a dress blew him a kiss as he passed. Chuckling about it, Luke and Noah made their way over to a less hectic side of the room, where a small side bar stood closed and a couple of barstools sat vacant. Sitting down, they looked across at the wild scene around them, enjoying the view.
Luke watched the chaotic main bar across the room and the throngs of people waving their money, chanting for service and harassing the lone pirate bartender for drinks. His hat was bent askew, his stuffed parrot had drooped over his shoulder and he looked dangerously like he was going to unsheathe his plastic sword and attack his customers with it.
It made Luke grin. Pointing it out to Noah, they joked about a real-life pirate attack and soon settled into comfortable conversation about school, the books they had to read and the films they both liked.
Luke grinned at him, having a surprisingly good time. Noah smiled back, looking equally as content. He really did have a nice smile.
“So, drink?” Noah eventually asked.
“You’re brave enough to fight through that?” Luke replied, gesturing towards the bar, where people were now leaning over and trying to drink beer from the taps.
“What, you don’t think I can handle it?” Noah asked, pretending to sound mortally offended. Luke threw up his hands in mock-surrender.
“Okay, okay! You’re manly and capable. I’m sorry for doubting you.” Dropping his hands, he smiled warmly. “Just an orange juice, thanks.”
“Coming right up,” Noah said with a salute before heading off, making Luke shake his head after him in amusement.
He really was a nerd. It was sort of endearing.
"Can I get you a drink, good-looking?" a smooth voice suddenly purred into Luke's ear as soon as Noah disappeared behind a crowd of people. Amazed at how fast people worked, Luke turned and found himself caught in the smouldering gaze of an attractive brunette. He was in his mid-thirties, well-dressed, very cute and had Luke seen him under any other circumstances he may have found himself attracted to him. As it was, Luke really wasn't very interested.
Blushing at the attention, Luke shook his head at the stranger politely in refusal and tried to look after Noah.
"Um, thanks for the offer but I don't..." Luke's voice faltered slightly. The closed bar he was leaning against began to light up and a barmaid had shuffled over in a wench's outfit, her bosom spilling over in a way Luke was sure was lost on the majority of the clientele.
"Can I get anything for you?" she asked the two men. Luke looked over his shoulder, trying to find Noah in the crowd. If he knew what Noah wanted to drink, he could have saved Noah the hassle of the wading through the angry mob.
"Um-" Luke began but the stranger cut in suavely.
"A glass of your best champagne and whatever handsome here wants."
"I really don't need a drink, my friend is getting one for me..." Luke tried again but the man waved this off.
"I insist," the stranger said firmly. "Whatever you want."
Whatever he wanted...
Luke turned and looked at the florescent bottles gleaming over the barmaid's shoulder, like bright colours of liquid temptation. Luke felt his fingers twitch at his sides.
“Come on, dimples, indulge me,” the man said slickly, his smile charismatic and predatory all at once. “What harm will one drink do?”
Luke mulled this question over in his head before looking back at the elaborate glass bottles lined up one after the other. Each bottle seemed to be more enticing than the one before.
Luke wet his lips.
He had already been denied of enough of the things he wanted. What harm was there in indulging a little?
Feeling emboldened, he sat up a little straighter in his chair and smiled back at the stranger.
"Rum and coke, thanks."
The man smiled silkily and motioned at the barmaid to carry out the request before leaning back to sweep his eyes appreciatively over Luke's form. After what felt like hours, he finally opened his mouth and said,
"You're adorable.”
Luke laughed uncomfortably, focusing on the barmaid as she poured something that looked suspiciously like sparkling wine into a champagne flute. She then mixed Luke’s rum and coke and topped if off with a straw, pushing the flute in the direction of the generous stranger and the tumbler towards Luke.
The dark, pungent smell of the rum drifted up Luke’s nostrils and he happily let himself drown in it, ignoring the shrill voice in the back of his head that was telling him to back away from the situation.
Leaning forward, he picked up the icy glass and swirled the dark liquid around in it, revelling in the way the cold nipped sharply at the pads of his fingers.
He then closed his eyes, lifted the glass to his lips and was about to take his first sip when a strong hand closed around his wrist, stopping him.
Snapping his eyes open, Luke nearly slipped off his seat as Professor Oliver's angry blue eyes glared down at him.
"Are you a complete idiot?" the older man asked him in an infuriated voice.
"Er, excuse me, pal," piped up the brunette, looking a little irked that his play was being interrupted. Luke simply gawped at his professor with his mouth hanging open unattractively, sure he must have been imagining him. "I think you'll find that the kid is with me-"
"And I think you'll find that the kid isn't even legal, you moron," Reid snapped back, his hand tightening around Luke’s wrist almost possessively as he spoke. Luke just stared transfixed at the fingers on his skin, his drink long forgotten. “So, unless you want to end up in a jail cell, I suggest you back the hell off.”
The stranger opened his mouth and looked like he wanted to argue some more but, after braving the look Reid was throwing at him and deciding this fight wasn't worth it, he snapped his mouth shut. Picking up his drink, he then prissily took the one out of Luke's hand as well before stalking off to find another potential bedfellow.
Still sitting there with his mouth hanging open, Luke blinked repeatedly at his professor and wondered if hell had frozen over
Professor Oliver couldn't be here. He couldn’t have stopped Luke from having a drink and saved him from the unwanted advances of a stranger as well. It was just too noble. Too dashing. Too Darcy or Heathcliffe or some other fabulously tragic romance hero.
He was Luke's knight in shining armour.
Of course, knights in shining armour didn't usually look like they were going to smack their damsels over the head like Reid Oliver suddenly did. Luke winced as the professor dropped his wrist like it had offended him, staring at Luke with angry exasperation.
"Of all the stupid, bonehead things to- seriously, were you dropped on your head as a child or were you just born brainless? You had a kidney transplant, you idiot. Are you trying to undo everything?"
Luke stared, his eyes as big as hubcaps. He hadn't even told Noah about his drinking.
"How did you know about my-"
"I’m your teacher, Einstein. It’s in your records," the professor said harshly, his unimpressed tone cutting deep into Luke. "So you can count yourself lucky, Mr Snyder. Next time, I won’t be there to stop you from being an imbecile.”
But I want you to be there, Luke wanted to say desperately. He wanted to lean forward. He wanted the professor's hands on him again. He wanted to grab his face and drink in his lips, sure they would give his alcohol addiction a run for its money. But he didn't. Instead, he gulped loudly and remarked, almost out of the blue,
“Why are you even here?”
Professor Oliver tilted his head at Luke, running his eyes over him. When the stranger had done it, Luke had felt bashful but amused. When Reid Oliver did it, he wanted to both launch himself at him and melt into a puddle at his feet.
“And my being here is your business because…?” the professor asked lightly, his eyes giving nothing away in the dim light.
“It’s a gay club,” Luke said almost stupidly.
Professor Oliver looked over his spectacles at Luke like he was a moron.
“Funnily enough, I had gathered that.”
“People come here to hook up,” Luke carried on, unable to stop his mouth from stating the obvious. Despite himself, Professor Oliver’s thin mouth twitched to a slight smirk.
“Again, another thing I’m aware of,” he returned smoothly.
Luke let out an exhale at his words, his heart feeling lighter by the second. He had missed this. This chance to talk to him - just them - one on one. He had missed the professor’s voice. His strange little quirks. His biting wit. The way he pushed up his glasses when they began to slip down. Luke had just missed him.
And then the reason why he missed the professor suddenly floated back into his brain.
“You’ve been ignoring me,” Luke said bluntly. Professor Oliver’s small smirk dropped from his mouth quicker than a flash.
“And you give yourself far too much credit,” he said in a short, blank voice, shutting Luke out. It made Luke want to scream and hit the professor until he listened but Luke didn’t do either of these things. Instead, he took another deep breath and steeled his courage.
“Look, if this is about what happened that day in the auditorium-” Luke broached.
“Nothing happened in the auditorium,” Professor Oliver cut in coldly.
“You know that’s not true.”
Professor Oliver groaned and stared up at the ceiling, as though asking the Gods why they were torturing him like this. He looked tired. He looked fed up. His mask of composure was barely staying on.
“What do you want from me, Mr Snyder?” he asked genuinely, staring at Luke like he had nothing more to give.
Letting out a breath, Luke decided to bite the bullet.
"I am legal, you know.”
Blinking for a second, Professor Oliver soon raised a wary eyebrow and looked unsure of where Luke was going with this.
“Excuse me?” he asked.
“You told that guy who was hitting on me that I wasn’t legal,” Luke elaborated, his voice breathy and desperate with just the professor’s proximity. Thinking for a second, he took a step closer, feeling brave. “I am.”
“Barely,” Reid said shortly as he took a step back, his eyes suddenly devoid of any emotion. Luke could practically hear the professor’s brain closing off his feelings.
"Reid..." Luke persisted, feeling nervous but bold enough to place his hand over where the professor's sat on the bar. Its warmth seemed to tingle up Luke’s arm and fill his body with contentment. "I'm still legal."
Reid's eyes seemed transfixed on their joined hands. After a few seconds of gazing, he eventually opened his mouth to reply.
"I thought I told you on your first day to never call me by my first name," he said, not sounding half as sardonic as he probably wished he had.
Luke took this as an invitation to take another step closer. He could feel the professor's heat through his clothes. It felt exhilarating to be that close to him.
"Are you going to kick me out of your class now because I called you ‘Reid’?" Luke murmured.
Professor Oliver licked his lips. Luke wanted to lean forward and catch his tongue with his teeth.
"I should refuse to teach you," Reid said hoarsely. "You're insolent."
"I have an opinion."
"You backtalk."
Luke broke into a slow, knowing smile. It looked sultry on his lips.
"You like it."
"No, I don't," Reid returned, quicker than a heartbeat. Luke shook his head. The professor had responded far too swiftly for Luke to truly believe him.
"You like me," Luke persisted, relentless in his approach. Professor Oliver smirked wryly at him, his thin lips only slightly curled at the edges.
"I don't like anybody.”
"I don't think that's true."
"What you think, Mr Snyder, would barely fill a thimble."
“Then why did you give me a ‘B’?”
To Luke’s surprise, Professor Oliver took a minuscule step forward so their chests touched a fraction. It made Luke’s legs tremble and his body ache with need.
“A moment of madness,” Reid said simply, his deep voice sounding like sex to Luke’s ears. Luke leaned forward tentatively, his eyelids heavy and hooded. He was suddenly finding it very difficult to concentrate.
“You know,” he said, his voice cracking, “some people say that ‘no great genius has ever existed without some touch of madness’.”
This time Professor Oliver was the one to look impressed. Despite himself, he let out a chuff of a laugh and shook his head, his eyes glittering back at Luke in the dark.
“An eighteen year old who quotes Aristotle,” the professor said, unable to keep the admiration out of his voice. He blinked at Luke, as though seeing him properly for the first time, the soft smile on his face a genuine one. “Not bad.” His face was suddenly, dangerously, close. Luke held his breath. "Not bad at all..."
A forehead pressed against Luke's and a nose softly bumped his own. A hand almost tentatively cupped the side of Luke's face and Luke had to fight to keep his eyes open because it all felt just too damn right. He finally let out his exhale.
This wasn't just lust. This was tender, this was reverential and this felt suspiciously like the beginnings of love. It should have terrified him and sent him running in the other direction but all Luke really wanted to do was drown in this feeling until he died.
"Reid..." Luke moaned almost worshipfully, clutching at the front of the professor's shirt to bring him as close as humanly possible. He wanted to smell him on his clothes, taste him on his lips and feel his soft hair under his fingers. Luke wanted him all around him, pressed against him and deep inside of him. "Please..." Luke begged, clawing at the professor desperately, offering himself completely. “Reid… please. I want you, I want this, I-”
A strong pair of lips claimed Luke’s mouth before he could finish, feverish and hungry and descending with such speed and fervour that Luke could feel his lips bruising with the impact.
Throwing his arms around the professor’s neck, they kissed like their lives depended on it while thumping music and a tidal wave of people pounded around them. Luke’s hands were everywhere he could touch, from clutching handfuls of Reid’s hair to running down his sides, touching his face and smoothing down his collarbone to frantically undo the knot of his tie.
Luke felt himself being pulled out of his chair and nudged towards a doorway as he suctioned his lips to Professor Oliver’s neck, happy to let the professor manhandle him to wherever it was he wanted to take them.
Luke barely registered where they had blindly stumbled into but when they landed on top of a pile of coats and he saw Noah's beige jacket trapped under their bodies, it turned him on even more than he already was.
Reid’s hands made quick work of Luke’s shirt buttons and belt, unfastening and unclipping so hurriedly that his fingers occasionally fumbled until they finally managed their goal. Luke bit his lip hard as a hand skimmed down his bare chest and brushed against his nipple. The nerves of his body were so heightened that he felt like every part of him was on fire, his pants straining so tightly that he was beginning to see spots in his vision. He didn’t think he was going to last much longer.
"Oh, Christ, I've never had...” he tried to speak but then gasped at the hardness that thrust against his own. Lifting up his hips wantonly, Luke sought out Reid’s lips again and pulled them back to his own.
“Never had what?” Reid hissed back against his mouth, undulating and rocking his body against Luke’s jean-clad erection so frenziedly that they could barely speak. Luke threw back his head and continued to grind, seeing stars begin to blink in front of his eyes. He could scarcely remember his own name.
“I… sex…” Luke moaned against Reid’s lips, licking the lips in front of him “Never… done... not before..."
Reid's body froze on the spot.
Luke felt his eyesight petering in and out of blackness as he continued to clutch desperately at the sides of Reid's face, as though he was the one anchor keeping Luke from slipping completely into unconsciousness. Luke then let out a breath that burned deep in his chest, making him feel as though he couldn't get enough air into his lungs
He swooped in for another kiss but Reid moved back, out of reach. His complexion had gone from flushed with lust to pale and almost sickly in the space of a few minutes. His slender hands closed over the ones desperately grasping at his face before prying them off, the tips of Luke's fingers leaving white fingerprint marks on his cheeks. Reid then shook his head.
"What in the hell are you thinking, Oliver?" he muttered aloud in an appalled voice, apparently talking to himself. He then looked back at Luke and winced, jumping to his feet as though the blond had suddenly transformed into something so hideous he couldn't bare to look it directly in the eye. Reid swallowed hard and fumbled behind him to close his hand over the cloakroom doorknob. "I-I can't do this," he said before pulling the door open and leaving.
Luke watched him go, his mouth open in shock and frustration, his body still painfully turned on. Looking down at himself, Luke groaned dropped his head back on the coats, the buttons on Noah's jacket digging into his back.
He really needed a cold shower.
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