Page 9 of Kiss Me Honey Hone

Aaron was still figuring himself out.

Hence his change in hair colour. He was starting over.

“No,” Aaron said, eyes betraying him by pinging to the lecture theatre doors every time they opened. He’d arrived early, so he didn’t have to walk in with Kenny already there. He wanted Kenny to have to do that. And another gaggle of second year psych students clambered in, relieved they’d beaten their professor to the punch, too. Although probably not for the same reason as Aaron. “He needed an early night as he started placement today.”

“Oh.” Mel pouted. “Boring. Where’s his placement?”

“The Ryston Gazette. Doing their social news. He’ll be digging up local stories and the first to shove them online for clickbait.”

“Nice.” She fished out her phone from her bag. “Wonder if he’ll be covering the random death of that netball girl.”

“What?” Aaron turned to her, but the doors clanged open in that demanding authoritative way Aaron knew belonged to Kenny without having to look.

Look, he did, though.

How could he not?

Kenny strode into the lecture theatre with the commandingpresence of someone who knew exactly the effect he had on those watching. Dressed in his dapper three-piece suit, a dark, charcoal-grey paired with a crisp white button-down and black waistcoat cinched close to his body, bringing out the striking definition in his shoulders, finished with a tailored jacket, with his glasses on and hair pulled back, he was everything Aaron craved. And he couldnotcontrol how much he wanted that man to lie on top of him in all that academic get up and crush him. Preferably while Aaron was naked. Aaron would rip his hair out of its tail, let it fall onto his face, and grip the strands while he rutted against him until he came, ruining the expensive fibres of that glorious suit.

Scanning the room, Kenny adjusted the stack of notes and papers under his arm, and he had a practiced detachment, a slight tightening at the corner of his mouth suggesting he’d rather be anywhere but here. Was that because he knew Aaron was here? That this was their official shunt back to student-teacher dynamics? Or was it just a case of the post-holiday blues?

Whatever it was, it had him moving with composed steps toward the front, and Aaron’s pulse racing in sync with each one. Kenny then set his things down on the desk, rolling his shoulders as if settling into the space, adjusting the papers into alignment, his OCD playing out for everyone to see. But only Aaron knew how badly he had it from having been in his impeccably ordered home. Then he looked up again, expression unwavering and unreadable. And, just for a heartbeat, his gaze stopped.

Settled onAaron.

The noise in the lecture hall seemed to fade, and Aaron felt as if the world had narrowed to that single, charged moment. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and for a split second, Aaron could’ve sworn whatever tension simmered between them was written plainly on Kenny’s face. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry as the corner of Kenny’s lips twitched, before he moved on, restoring his distant, authoritative demeanour and theworld swung back into balance as Kenny unbuttoned his jacket with a quick, almost unconscious motion, shrugging it off and folding it neatly over the back of his chair. He then rolled his shirt sleeves to the elbows, exposing strong forearms coated with dark hair that Aaron could still feel tingling against his lips, and tapped a finger on the desk once. A subtle gesture to quieten the last pockets of conversation before he finally spoke.

“Welcome back.” His voice carried an unmistakable note of command travelling effortlessly to the back row of the two-hundred-tiered seating lecture hall.

Aaron’s chest fluttered, watching Kenny take control of the room, the authority in his tone setting him apart. This was Kenny in his element, his words infused with a confidence that left no room for question.

“For those who were with me last year, I expect more from you now. For those who are new, you’ll find I don’t offer easy answers or simple explanations.” Kenny paced in front of the desk. “We’re here to delve into the darker side of human psychology. The motivations behind violent crimes. The mindsets of those incapable of feeling remorse and how that can affect survivors.”

He stopped, resting on the edge of the desk, fingers lightly tapping in a measured rhythm, as if counting each beat with absolute control. Then, with a slight incline of his head, he settled on Aaron once more, almost as if daring him to look away. Maybe to go away.Leave.

“We’ll explore cases that could make us uncomfortable,” he said, as if describing his own feelings right then. “Motives forcing us to question our own boundaries. Because understanding these impulses requires a willingness to confront parts of ourselves most people prefer to ignore.”

Mel tapped Aaron’s hand, pushing over her phone for him to read the WhatsApp chat she was part of detailing the sudden death of a third-year netball player called Connie. Poor girl.

“I’ll assume you’re using that phone to take notes, Melanie?” Kenny barked from the front. “Because I wouldn’t expect you to be sharing TikToks inmyclass. Onmytime.”

Mel snatched her phone back, offering an apology, and Aaron turned to meet Kenny’s gaze. It lingered. Just a little too long. Long enough for Aaron to recall the way he’d gripped his neck and called himbaby.

“This term, we’re diving into the dark intricacies of criminal psychology.” But off Kenny went into what he was here for and not ripping out Aaron’s heart. “Specifically, the psychology behind serial killers. What drives someone to commit such repeated acts of violence, often with chilling precision? What motivates them?”

Ah. Shit.That’s why Kenny looked so concerned. That was why he longed for Aaron not to be here. Nothing to do with feely feelings. He worried this was too close to home for him. So Aaron gripped his pen and concentrated on note taking. Because it didn’t matter he’d lived with serial killers, was born from them, what mattered was knowingwhy.

“Our first topic will be motives. Why would someone kill, and keep killing, despite the obvious risk and consequences?” It was as if Kenny were directing the question to him. He didn’t fucking know. It was why he was here. To find out why his mother had shattered his entire existence by committing multiple homicide. “We often think of murder as a crime of passion. Spurred by anger, jealousy, revenge. But with serial killers, it’s different. There’s often something that goes beyond impulse.”

He paced back and forth along the front row, hands tucked loosely into his trouser pockets as he let the words linger. Then, turning back to the screen behind him which held his slides, courtesy of his PhD student aide, Kenny slipped a hand from his pocket to ruffle back a stray hair and Aaron swore everyone could see the pounding hearts in his eyes as he tilted his neck, staring at Kenny as if he was some lovesick teenager.

Fuck, he’s sexy a f.

All right, a lovesick twenty-year-old.

“Some killers act out of a need for power and control. Others are driven by a psychological urge that they can’t fully explain themselves. Then there are those who kill not for revenge or gratification, but to create a sense of intimacy they can’t find elsewhere. Does anyone know of a case where a killer’s motive might be tied to intimacy?”

The silence in the room deepened, his question pressing on them.

---