A/N: tbh i'm stuck finishing up my assignments so here's a real quickie chapter for you readers! thanks for all the reviews and favorites and follows! /throws sparkles everywhere
Presa knows Alvin's a bad luck charm.
Rich guys always are; he's not excluded from the category.
She's a big girl now, she knows how to take care of herself, so if Alvin turns out to be Mr Wrong instead of Mr Right, she's got her heart ready to move on with life. Although it'll be painful and devastating just like what breakups are, what doesn't kill her makes her stronger and she's been living with that principle for as long as she could remember. The cat lover slicks on some of her lipstick—Riezain, Alvin loves kissing and licking it off her lips because of its sensual rouge shade—and sprays some perfume on her nape, slicking it on her wrists and over her cleavage before adjusting her snug-fitting bodice and washing her hands.
She leaves the washroom with a flick of her hair and parades down the hallway, her four-inch stilettos clicking with every step, and she catches some boys giving her longing glances, yearning to be part of her world. Sadly, Presa's world isn't all flowers and sparkles; she knows more than she lets on, her weathered eyes all jaded and her body all abused, but it doesn't stop her from picking herself off the floor and walking on with her chin parallel to the ground. She can stand whatever hell throws to her, winning through every battle, but now hell presents itself in the form of Presa's greatest challenge: a man, someone whom she could love, and she doesn't know if she'll make it out of this fight unscathed.
She prefers not knowing for now, to be honest.
At the end of the hallway, Presa sees a tall, dark, brooding figure, and hastens her steps.
"Dr. Gaius," she greets him curtly, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. He turns, there's no smile on his lips as usual because he's just like her, and she tilts her head to the side, crossing her arms under her heavy breasts. "What're you doing standing around here?"
He swallows hard, eyes flicking to the right in a second before it settles on her again, and murmurs, "Just done seeing a student. What about you, Presa? Isn't today your day off?"
"Submitted some papers—the merging of the two faculties is due any month now, so they're hurrying up with the important stuffs," she answers placidly, sighing. Gaius nods, accepting her words as it is, and Presa looks at her bracelet watch with its tinkling gilded ornaments—plump hearts, girly kittens, a lipstick and a flower because it's Alvin's custom-made gift to her—before deciding that she shouldn't waste any more time with mindless chattering. "I have to excuse myself, doctor," she says, giving him a small wave, "I've got a date to catch up with."
"Ah." He nods again, understanding what she means by that. "Take care."
"I will."
No she won't.
She's a reckless fighter, crashing in and out of relationships, and her life's also crashing and caving in around her but she fights, fights for her rights, fights to get her happy ending, and she fights to make it come true. So she blows him a goodbye kiss, which Gaius knows it means nothing because her flirtatious mannerism is just how she was brought up, and the younger professor saunters off, her hips swaying left and right, seducing all the watching students. She's strong, she's sexy, she's smart, and she knows normal guys can't hold a candle to her—they can't handle her at her worst, so they don't deserve her at her best, and Alvin looks like the only brightest prospect of her life.
He knows how to tame cats because he loves them, after all.
But does he love cats like her?
She doesn't know.
~eccedentisiast~
#1: there's this thing called resentment
It's so suffocating when he tries to push Alvin down his throat.
Jude's never good at this but he's trying because he has to, he doesn't have a choice, and so he forces himself to relax even though it's so hard to breathe and it's so hard inside his mouth, slick and throbbing. The man above him groans slightly, half-lidded eyes peering at him with a lazy smile on his lips, and it feels so awful having his hand clutching Jude's head, trying to force him to swallow deeper. It burns, the ache stretches his constricted throat, and all Jude wants is for this to be over because this isn't how everything's supposed to go, everything's so messed up, but rules are rules: If Alvin doesn't come, he doesn't get to go anywhere.
"Just a little bit more, Jude," the brunet encourages him, leaning back against his chair and dropping his head on the headrest, hands insistently pushing down on the boy. "A little bit more—and you can go back to class."
His hips thrust shallowly into Jude's mouth and the dishonoured student feels tears pricking his eyes, finding the pressure so horribly disgusting. He can't do it. He just can't. He wants to tell Alvin to stop it, to stop everything, to cut off their ties—but if he cuts off the thread binding them together, then it might get knotted like a noose and strangle Jude in the end. He just doesn't get a say in this. Jude's small hand clutched the base tightly and he removes his lips to catch a haggard breath, not liking how even though blurred tears, he can still see how Alvin smirks down at him, and decides on the cheapest tactic just to get Alvin to climax so that he can get this over with.
Jude lowers his head once more, wondering where he goes wrong with his life until he starts sucking on dicks instead of lollipops, and licks the tip where it's dripping with precum, wincing at the acrid taste. He's trying so hard to dull his senses, to forget how his head spins in circles as his tongue toys with the slit and makes Alvin groan again, and closes his lips over the slickened head, closing his eyes, closing his heart. Jude doesn't go to university to learn how to give blowjobs, he goes to the university to learn how to save lives, but how can he save lives when he can't even save his own? It's unanswerable, the erudite boy hasn't learned the answer from Professor Gaius yet, and he supposes that as long as he's doing this, then he'll never learn.
He must've lost track of his actions because he feels Alvin gripping his head tightly and pushing his cock so deep in Jude's mouth until it breaches his tight throat, and he resists the heaving of his stomach when something thick overflows his mouth, dripping from his lips. It's so disgusting until he could've cried, but Jude doesn't cry because crying isn't what mature adults do, and accepts the offering with a gulp when the brunet pulls back, quickly cleaning himself and zipping up again.
"As expected from the honours student, you learn quick," he quips, ruffling the boy's hair and pulling his seat up again as he adjusts the temperature of the air-conditioner inside his car. When he's not being mean during sex, Jude can somewhat tolerate Alvin because the man knows how to treat him real good, and he props his head tiredly against Alvin's thighs, feeling his entire consciousness spin around in circles. Alvin laughs, stroking his cheek softly, and says, "Good work, kid. You wanna go home and take a rest for a while? I'll drop you off at your dorm."
"No…" Jude finally manages a sigh, blinking softly. He wipes the corner of his mouth, careful not to miss a spot so that nobody knows how much of a whore he is, and stares out of the darkly tinted windows. "I think I'm gonna go ahead and have lunch."
A pause.
Alvin drags a hand through his meticulously styled hair and shrugs. Suddenly he's cold, callous, caustic like what his gesture of touching Jude earlier isn't anything, and taps the boy on his shoulder. "All right, you can get out of the car now. I'll call you again, the usual."
Jude nods. He's too brain-dead to process that Alvin has taken out his smart phone and punched in a series of numbers on the touch screen. Unlocking the door, pushing it open, and crawling out from the tiny space between the man's legs. Trying to straighten up on the sidewalk and adjusting his clothes as innocently as possible, Jude wonders if he smells like sex and musky sweat, and catches himself in time. Since when did he worry about his body smelling like sex? There are new things settling in his mind now, trying to blend in with his text book equations and theories, and he doesn't like how they're corroding his innocence, wrenching everything away from him, replacing them with everything sordid and depraved.
It's scary how much of an adult he is now, isn't it?
Alvin talks in a low voice, ignoring the boy as if he's just shit under the shoe, and Jude slams the car door shut, willing his body to walk away from his owner. He's lucky that there aren't any people around to gossip because it's lunchtime and everyone must be busy wolfing down the disgusting cafeteria food, so he thanks whoever there is to thank for this opportunity. Walking up to the university gates, Jude instantly straightens up when he sees Professor Presa strutting down the dusty asphalt, her bountiful breasts bouncing with every aggressive step forward that she takes. She's got her faux fur purse with her, always flicking her oddly-styled hair over her shoulders, and she holds her phone up to her ear, talking with a small smile on her lips.
She's one of his good lecturers and he likes her very much.
The boy jogs up to her and smiles—good day, he might've uttered; she mirrors his gesture and bats her eyelashes before going on her way, and Jude watches as she stops in front of the gates and ends the call, sliding her phone into the purse.
Within just a few seconds later, Alvin's car slides up the driveway and she slips into his ride quietly.
Jude's just left there, staring unblinkingly.
'… what?'