I considered demanding that he tell me what suddenly happened, but Justin was still somewhat of an unknown for me. Granted, this was my second semester with him, but I’d only really conversed with him in a classroom setting. The only personal things I knew about him were that he had a lot of family stress at home surrounding his sick sister and there were financial struggles.
After he busied himself with re-cleaning the microscopes, he wandered closer to the front table where I was working. Justin was still pale, but he set his hands on the table, and they didn’t seem to be shaking anymore. His head was still lowered as he watched what I was doing.
“Would you like me to help with the study guides?” he asked quietly.
I would like for you to tell me what the fuck happened.
“Yes, thank you.” I left it at that. Justin didn’t need further instruction. He knew what to do. All that could be heard while we worked was the sound of papers being gathered and the stapler. Once we finished, I looked at my watch. Justin had been working in the lab with me for close to two hours, and soon the lab students would begin arriving.
“Thank you for your help today, Justin.” He nodded but didn’t speak. “You’re free to leave.”
“Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, Professor Grant.”
As unsettled as I was about what happened, I felt better hearing him confirm that he’d see me tomorrow. And as much as I didn’t want it, he consumed my thoughts during the next four hours of labs. I tried pushing him out of my mind, though not very hard. On my way back to my office, I recalled how his shoulder felt under my hand for those brief moments … before he panicked and acted as though I had the plague. Maybe he was afraid of me. Maybe I made him uncomfortable.
The weather had turned shitty, just like my mood. I was glad I’d paid attention to the possible threat of late afternoon showers and remembered my light jacket with the hood. In the drizzle, I headed back to my office after what felt like the longest lab session of my life. I was instantly annoyed and surprised to find my office door was unlocked. I specifically told Justin to always double check to ensure he had locked my office door. Fuming, I went inside and stopped in my tracks when I saw Justin sitting at the table studying. Anger quickly subsided as both relief and concern entered my mind about why he was still here and not home.
“Justin, what are you still doing here? I thought you were going home.” I pushed my door closed to make sure we wouldn’t be interrupted.
He stood and put his pencil between his lips. Dirty thoughts made their way into my mind as I made the comment to myself about him putting wood between his lips. My cock stiffened as I imagined stretching those lips of his with my dick. Fuck. I’d love to look down into his eyes while he gagged on my girth.
Justin closed the book and notebook before putting them in his backpack and then tossed his pencil inside one of the smaller sections.
“I wanted to apologize for what happened in the lab. I couldn’t go home and leave without telling you that I’m sorry about what happened to Quincy,” Justin said while looking into my eyes.
I felt like his reaction in the lab was related to my story about Quincy. I thought that since he’d brought it up again, it meant he was possibly ready to discuss his earlier reaction.
“Thank you, Justin.” I walked to my desk and set my bag down. “Do you want to tell me what caused you to react the way you did?”
He looked like he was considering it, so I pushed him some.
“Whatever you tell me is in the strictest of confidence. It remains between us and us only.” He hadn’t retreated yet, so I pushed some more but from a different angle. “I’d like to know what happened, so I can make sure I don’t do anything to upset you like that again.”
“No, it wasn’t you.”
He pulled his backpack off the table and walked toward my desk.What is going on with this kid?I tried to be patient because he might tell me something as long as he didn’t feel rushed.
“It’s just … I feel bad about the crime… the hate crime that you and your partner were victims of. Violence is everywhere, and it’s sad.” Justin quickly closed his mouth, preventing anything further from slipping out.
Was he referring to the bullying he experienced, or maybe something else? He specifically mentioned violence, and he seemed to have a physical reaction to merely talking or hearing about it. Just when I thought he closed up and was heading back into his shell, he muttered something that gutted me and pulled me closer to him.
“We have a lot in common, Professor.”
“Violence?” I asked, to which he didn’t deny or confirm.
I sat on my desk to maintain a sense that he was talking to a friend. I wanted him to view me as such. I wanted to ask him so much, but his body language told me he was on the edge of possibly falling apart again.
“It’s late, Professor Grant. I need to get going. I’m sorry about today and about Quincy.”
Justin left my office, closing my door quietly behind him. I sighed, but I felt our day ended on a positive note. After finishing up the last few tasks of my day, I put my jacket on, locked the office, and headed to the faculty parking lot. As I walked, I let the inappropriate thoughts of Justin push out the concerned thoughts. Justin had perfect cock-sucking lips. He had lips and a mouth that beg to be fucked. And I could look into those eyes while I dumped load after load down his throat. I could reciprocate, of course.
My cock was uncomfortably hard by the time I reached the parking lot. I was eager to get home and jack off to filthy, hot, and erotic fantasies of the things I could do to Justin. When I reached my SUV, I glanced in the direction of the main street where some men were yelling. About fifteen yards away, I spotted a familiar bright blue backpack acting as a shelter from the light rain. Justin stood toward the back of a long line of students and campus employees who were trying to make it on the bus. Some were vocally agitated about having to wait in the rain and people taking their time to get on the bus.
The lights were on inside the bus and it looked jam packed. I was sure there weren’t any seats left, and even if there were, Justin was too far back in the line to get one. Just as I’d expected, the bus driver stopped more people from getting on. Most of the people at the bus stop had umbrellas or at least jackets or sweatshirts with hoods. Justin stood in a short-sleeved t-shirt holding his backpack over his head. A few men toward the front of the line who were turned away threw bottles of water at the bus as it pulled away from the curb. Another student toward the back of the line yelled at the men who threw the bottles. Justin stood between the angry people. I had an opportunity to pull him out of this situation.
“Justin!” I yelled.
When he looked around, I held my hands up and waved my arms so he’d see me. He waved back as if he were saying goodnight and that he’d see me tomorrow. I gestured for him to come over. He hesitated and looked at the long line of people behind him. I thought he was afraid to get out of the line and lose his spot. Still holding his backpack over his head, he jogged over.
