Page 23 of Matthias's Protective Embrace
I almost laugh. Feel good? About a test? I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything even close to that. The closest I’ve ever come is ambivalent. Most of the time, it’s more like dread with a hearty helping of anxiety. “Not really.”
“Can I help?” He leans over to see my work better. “I used to be pretty good at this sort of thing.”
No doubt a straight-A student. Or maybe he got one B that he now refers to as a character-building opportunity.Either way, he doesn’t need to be near my C-plus work. “Only if you know a secret way to stuff this whole book into my head.”
“That bad?” He chuckles. Easy to do when it’s not his ass on the line. If I fail this class, I’ll have to pay to retake it, which will also delay my graduation. Not that the time is that important. It’s going to take me a million years to get through college.
“It’s not great.” I drop my pencil and sigh. “I’m a little behind on my studying.”
“I’m sure we can fix that.”
Who’swe?I don’t remember signing up for tutoring. Though if the people who usually tutored math were half as hot as Matthias, I might be a more frequent visitor to the help center. “How?”
“Well, the first step is getting you a better place to study.” I stare at my materials strewn across the coffee table. “Grab your stuff.”
I scoop it all up in my arms and follow Matthias into the dining room. I’ve seen the space a few times walking past, but I’ve never been in. Anytime I eat, it’s always in the kitchen, either at the breakfast bar or the small table he has off to the side. The dining room is luxurious in comparison. A long, dark table that easily seats eight fills most of the room. Overhead is some ridiculous chandelier with a bunch of glass pendants hanging from it. Who even has stuff like that in their home? The china cabinet on the side is full of the kind of plates and glasses that I’m not sure anyone even uses these days. Does Matthias use any of this or is it purely for decoration? It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask when he pulls one of the high-backed chairs away from the table and says, “Sit,” in a tone that says he’s not to be argued with. I hate how quickly my body responds, dropping into the chairand spreading my notes out. The fact that my cock takes interest in the tone of his voice is nothing new. At least when it comes to Matthias.
“Now, tell me where you’re at.”
“Um… chapter ten.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize how stupid they are. How should he know what’s in that chapter? “We’re covering infinite series. The exam is basically everything up to and including that, but focusing on differential equations and infinite series.” The fact that I even know those words is a minor miracle.
“And how did you do on the prior test?”
Shit. “Medium?” He raises an eyebrow at me, and I swear it’s worse than anything he could say. “I get low Bs and a few Cs. I understand most of the material, but I usually run out of time at the end and either don’t finish or rush the last question.”
“Thank you, that’s very helpful.” I sit up a little straighter. “That means you’re in good shape overall. We can focus in on the recent material.”
“Yeah, but that’s where I’m struggling.” I can’t help the whiny way my words come out. I’m tired, and this is hopeless.
“We’re going to get it. I promise.” The weird thing is, is that I believe him. Nothing in my life so far suggests he’s right, but I can’t help but have a tiny bit of faith. Not necessarily in myself, but him. “Show me the problem you were working on.”
All that confidence? It comes crashing down around me. My paper is a mess of scratched-out numbers, eraser marks, and a distinct lack of answers. It’s embarrassing to look at it myself, let alone show it to Matthias. Somehow, I swallow the small amount of pride I have left and slide the notebook across to him.
He stares at it for a while. Too long. Maybe I should’ve asked if he knew anything about calculus before I blindly followed him to the table?
“Alright. Try again, but this time, talk through your thinking—out loud—as you go through the process.”
“Fine. I’ll try it.” Do I sound like a petulant teenager right now? Probably. But I hate this stuff. I swear my head hurts simply thinking about it. I start talking through the first problem, trying not to be overly self-conscious as Matthias watches as I work through what I think are the correct steps. Even when I pause or scratch something out, he doesn’t interrupt. It doesn’t keep me from attempting to interpret all the little satisfied hums he’s making or to differentiate them from the noise he makes when I veer off track.
Usually, I have music or the TV playing while I study to break up some of the monotony, but Matthias might be my new favorite soundtrack. Do you think he’d be willing to always sit next to me while I work?
MATTHIAS
“Ugh. It’s impossible.” Frank’s head falls against the table with a thud. We’ve been at this for the better part of three hours now, only stopping for the occasional bathroom break or to refill our coffee mugs. I’m going to regret having this much late-night caffeine later, but right now, it’s a necessity. As it will be when I go to work with only a few hours of rest. If I’m lucky.
“It’s challenging, but not impossible.” I put my hand between his shoulder blades for a second before I think better of it and pull away. As soon as I do, I miss thecloseness between us. “But you have to believe you can do it.” I reposition myself in my seat to put space between us. Somehow, over the course of the night, the gap between us has practically disappeared. There’s no way for me to move my chair further away without him noticing.
“Are you quoting inspirational posters to me?” Frank peeks out from beneath his arms, his eyes narrow, challenging me.
“I am if they have good advice. Now, let’s do a little bit more before you get some sleep.” I glance at the clock. I don’t remember the last time I stayed up past midnight. Maybe I can rearrange some of my meetings tomorrow and go in a few hours late. There’s no way I’ll be able to focus on so little rest.
“I can’t sleep until I learn math.” He sits up straight and pulls his book closer, gripping the pages so tightly I’m worried he’ll tear them.
“You can’t absorb information if you’re exhausted.” I tap the book with my pencil. “Come on.” I wish I didn’t remember this feeling so well, the struggle to figure out how much to study versus how much to sleep. Admittedly, my college days were less stressful than this. I wish I could explain to him how much of it is in his head. Maybe not the formulas, but the processes. The constant negative self-talk only makes it easier for him to give up on problems when the answer doesn’t come right away instead of working harder and believing in his abilities. From what I’ve seen, he might not be a math genius, but he’s got the basics down. A little bit of studying and he should be able to pass the class easily. Maybe even pull off a B. It’d be an A, but he’s too far into the term to be able to turn it that far around based on what he’s told me.
“Fine. What’s next?” I pry the book from his hands andflip to the end of the chapter, selecting three questions for him. The first one is simple, but I hope it’ll boost his confidence before he gets to the more challenging ones. If he can do these, he’ll pass the exam. I hope. Fuck, I donotmiss school.
He goes through the steps, writing and erasing his work multiple times. I could never be a teacher, but I can see why people love it. There’s a sense of pride in helping him reach his potential. It’s part of what draws me to being a Daddy in the first place. I like being able to help someone get what they need, achieve their goals, and grow. Clubs are fun, but they don’t give me the same satisfaction. My previous partners typically referred to it as overbearing and demanding, but I never forced them to do anything. I only tried to help them get where they wanted to go.I wouldn’t force Frank to study if it wasn’t in his best interest. He’s the one who wants to do well in this course. If I can help him achieve those goals, then why wouldn’t I throw myself into it?
