Page 55 of Hot for Teacher
Killian stormed into his house, beelining to the coffeepot, since it was too early for whiskey. He needed to send some emails. He was too close to his rut and clearly in no state to teach his classes for the rest of the week. He had some prerecorded lectures to fall back on, and a TA would have to do the rest.
Killian could feel things building, could feel himself getting more aggressive, more protective over what was his.
And horny. He was getting fucking horny.
He didn’t need to be off hounding random omegas about how to woo Chase. He needed Chasehere.
The thing was, Killian had a feeling that if he simply told Chase, in no uncertain terms, “We’re dating now. It’s official. You’re mine,” Chase would allow it. He’d go along with Killian as he always did, pliant and eager and a good fucking boy until the end.
But Killian couldn’t do that with everything that came their way; it couldn’t always be his decision. If they were going to build something real, Chase had to be an equal partner. He had to want it just as much as Killian.
Even half as much would be acceptable at this point.
Killian couldn’t go around ordering, “You’re moving in.”
“We’re getting married.”
“I’m claiming you.”
A claiming bite. A perfect, bite-shaped scar on the back of Chase’s perfect, unmarred neck.
Fuck. Killian’s dick was hard. Rock fucking hard.
He abandoned his coffee and went straight to the couch, undoing his buckle hurriedly. He shoved his hand into his pants and grasped his cock. Tugged it. Growled in frustration.
This wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all. Killian needed something hot and wet and tight around him. Chase’s pretty pink mouth. Or Chase’s hole, spit-soaked and lubed to all hell. Or fuck, he’d even take Chase’s thighs, muscular and firm and squeezed tight around his cock. They hadn’t done that yet, but Killian was already planning to during his rut, when Chase needed a break from his knot. Killian was going to lube those thighs and squeeze them together and fuck into them like a madman.
Fuck. Killian was hot. Too hot. His clothes were terrible too. He’d thought they were good quality—fucking expensive as hell—but they itched at his skin.
He took them all off.
The smell of the coffee was aggravating now too. Killian rose from the couch and strode naked into his kitchen. He turned the coffee pot off and dumped it all out in the sink.
No foreign scents, even coffee scents. Only Killian’s pheromones. And his beta, wrapped up in them so tightly everyone knew he was Killian’s.
Wherewashis beta?
Chase was supposed to be here. Naked. Safe. Only Killian would get to see him wet and flushed and desperate. Killian would make sure all the windows and doors were locked so they wouldn’t be interrupted. Because he was going to knot his beta, and that would take time. Killian was going to be careful. Gentle. No hurting him. Because Chase was strong, but he was also fragile. And he was … not here?
His phone. Killian needed his phone. And lube. There needed to be lube everywhere. His bedroom. The living room. The kitchen. Because he was going to knot Chase, and he wasn’t going to hurt him. Not once.
Killian went back to the couch and gathered his clothes. He took them to his bedroom and set them on his bed. Chase might want them. He might want to be surrounded by soft things that smelled like Killian.
They needed more blankets.
Killian went to his closet and started gathering the extras he kept there, setting them with his clothes. He added his robe to the pile, the one he wore on cooler winter mornings.
There. That was good. Chase could arrange them however he wanted. He would like that, wouldn’t he? A soft pile of nice things that smelled like Killian?
WherewasChase?
Right. Killian needed his phone.
He went back to the bed and took his phone out of his pants pocket.
Killian: Come here.
Killian: Come now.
