Page 11 of Dream a Little Dream

Aaron’s breath caught. He couldn’t tell if it was triumph or terror clawing its way up his throat. Maybe both.

But he was shunted out of it when the girl next to him nudged his knee with her own, leaning in to hush her voice, “He’s like Indiana Jones for theCriminal Minds’fangirls.” She then wafted a pack of mints under his nose.

Relieved by the intrusion, Aaron ripped his scrutiny off Dr Kennth Lyons to the offer of a chance to dull the recollected taste of his professor’s spunk in his mouth with a Trebor Extra Strong. He squirmed out of his scarf. “Huh?”

“Him. Professors arehotthese days.” At least she kept her voice hushed enough so as not to alert anyone to their muted conversation in the front row.

Why he was in the front row summed up his life. He’d been late. He was always late. But he hadn’t envisaged the queue for the bathroom on the first Monday of classes to be as long as it had been and as he hadn’t showered since the man currently talking about evil in front of him right then had had his hand around his cock, he couldn’t forgo the wash.

The girl waggled the mints again.

Aaron took one, popped it in his mouth and sank lower into his scarf to focus his attention back onDoctorLyons.

Despite his initial faff and sliver of recognition causing his stammer, he had the same aura he’d had on Saturday night. A presence commanding attention. And thatsuit. It hugged him in all the ways he shouldn’t have noticed. Aaron cocked his head as Lyons twisted, leaning over the desk to press the keyboard to bring up the next slide. He had a slight pang of regret about not having squeezed that arse.

And ahugepang of regret for not having listened to the alarm bells.

Talk about danger zone.

Lyons wriggled out of his jacket, sweat marks already forming under his pits, and Aaron glimpsed a soft tuft of hair spilling out from his open collar. Yeah, okay. The girl was right. Hewasa hot professor. But he avoided looking at Aaron again. To anyone else, nothing would seem untoward. Their shared recognition was over in a blink. But to him, it had felt like an eternity. The eye contact. The stark realisation. The flashback to when they’d been each other’s source of temporary amnesia in the backroom of a basement nightclub.

Wouldn’t know it to look at him now, though.

Aaron was impressed.

Lyons stopped abruptly, motioning toward the screen behind him. The haunting, grainy image of Norman Bates loomed large, an iconic reminder of fictionalised evil and his voice sliced through the heavy air, sharp and commanding.

“This isn’tCriminal Minds,or any of those ludicrous shows glorifying the Behaviour Analysis Unit as psychic detectives able to pluck the inner workings of a killer’s mind from thin air.” His words carried a sharp edge of disdain, but they were solid, like the blows of a hammer striking steel. “This isrealwork.Hardwork. You will need to think. To question. Dissect. Theorise and prove your hypothesis with unflinching rigour.” Lyons then struck his fist down hard on the wooden surface with a crack echoing like a gunshot. “You’ll need topay attention!”

A visible jolt ran through the students, nervous laughter rippling in pockets of the room. Not Aaron, though. His heartleapt. Cock stirred. The punishing authority. The dark gravitas. It ignited Aaron’s chest with a burning flame and he grinned, a predatory curl he masked behind his knuckles. But beneath the surface, his mind thrummed with a dangerous thrill.

His attention had already been bought and paid for.

Lyons stopped, planting himself in the centre of the room. He swept his gaze over the students, and then his words dropped like a guillotine. “What isevil?”

Aaron stiffened, the question reverberating through him like a tuning fork. He knew the answer. Or at least his own version of it. But the way Dr Lyons asked, as though demanding the truth from some shadowy abyss within each of them, sent a shiver up his spine.

“Is evil born? Or is it made? Is it the monster hiding under the bed? Or is it the person sitting next to you?”

Lyons was off in his element, clicking through the various slides of his intro presentation. Aaron’s vision blurred. Because the images flashing before him weren’t the characters of evil but Dr Lyons’ kiss. His hand around his throat. Sharp teeth sinking into his neck. And he couldn’t make out anything over the penetrating voice holding him hostage. Kenny had masked his accent further, giving it all the vibes of an academic poshness that had Aaron’s detachment wavering, curiosity pricking his resolve, and straining to listen through the dull roar of his internal conflict.

Except it wasn’t the words talking through the complexity of evil echoing in his mind, it was,“Take more. Good boy. Like sucking my cock, huh?”Along with his own whimpers. Racing pulse. And his garbled release along with theslap, slap, slapof flesh on flesh.

Lyons clicked to the next slide.“Some say the Howells were born evil. Others argue they were made. Shaped by circumstance and moulded by trauma. But the truth? That’s for us to uncover. Foryouto uncover.”

The lecture continued, the words barely registering as Aaron’s mind churned. Dr Kenneth Lyons might not realise it yet, but he was circling closer to the edge, closer to the truth.

“What is evil?” Dr Lyons asked.

Aaron leaned back in his chair.You’re looking right at it, Doc.

But for the next hour, Aaron played up to the next word highlighted on the screen.Obedience. And the lecture rattled on, ending with students bolting out of their seats to rush down the stairs and get their fifteen seconds with Dr Kenneth Lyons. The best thing for Aaron to do was scarper, so he gathered up his stuff when a hand thrust at him.

“Melanie,” the girl next to him said. “Mel, if you like.”

Aaron stared at her hand, weighing up all the options. He hadn’t offered his friendship to anyone. Not at the various schools he’d attended. Nor during the ridiculous activities the virtual schools put on for kids like him. Or at anything Jervine, his sort-of social worker, set him up for. He liked it that way. Apart from the sort-of-siblings he’d had in the halfway house, he’d been a loner. He hadn’t touched another human being unless he was being fucked, for he didn’t even know how long. He was fairly certain he wastoxic. But she was giving off poison vibes herself. Externally, that was. Her goth aesthetic was a monochrome contrast against the lecture hall’s attempt at warmth, her presence as definitive as the black ink on a blank page. She was probably an absolute sweetheart beneath the guise of a metal head, black hair and a nose bolt. Aaron appreciated those who hid their true selves. The same way he did with his dusky pink hair, a nose ring, and tattoos.

And like Dr Kenneth Lyons did, it would seem.

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