บททั้งหมดของ Professor Grayson's Favorite sin : บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

Damien's POVDamien paced the hallway outside his bedroom like a caged animal.The corridor was too narrow for the energy boiling under his skin; each turn felt clipped, boots scuffing the dark oak with sharp, frustrated sounds. The door stayed shut. Locked from the inside. Lennon had slammed it hard enough that the frame had rattled, turned the bolt with a decisive snick, and shut Damien out completely.And Damien—Damien. Fucking. Hated. It.He hated the sound of that lock more than he hated most things left in his life. The click of metal sliding home felt personal. Final.Like Lennon had chosen distance over him, and Damien couldn't breathe around the thought.He hated the way Lennon had stormed past without sparing him a glance, eyes already red rimmed and glassy, cheeks streaked with tears he clearly didn't want Damien to see, jaw set in a furious line that didn't belong on such a soft face. He hated that Lennon had chosen to hide behind a door instead of letting Damien take the

LENNON Monday morning arrived like a cold hand around Lennon’s throat.He was slowly getting tired of coming to this place.As he walked into the lecture hall, shoulders hunched under the hood of Damian’s stolen black sweatshirt, backpack slung low like it could shield him from whatever was waiting, the air felt wrong.It was thick in a way that made him feel something was coming. This always happened—he knew this feeling very well—and he always pretended not to notice or completely ignored it.He took his usual seat in the back row, far left corner. Notebook open to a blank page, pen tapping an erratic rhythm against the spiral binding. The tapping matched the beat of his chest. He didn’t know why he was so on edge.He kept his eyes down, made no eye contact. He didn’t exactly need to. He could feel glances sliding over him, silently judging him for what, he didn’t know. It was either that, or he was being paranoid.The grades dropped during the morning break. First was Professor Gr

LENNON Lennon froze. His hand still curled around Damien's now soft, spit slick cock. The faint tang of pre come was still on his tongue.The sudden knock cracked through the quiet like a whip and every muscle in Lennon's body locked tight.Panic slammed into him with full force, hot, blinding and suffocating.He was going to be caught.His knees felt raw on the industrial carpet, lips heavy and swollen, chin wet with drool, Damien's taste thick on the back of his tongue. His hoodie was still eucked up around his ribs from crawling under the desk. A jolt of terror ran through him.He'd been so mad earlier, he didn't even think straight. This wasn't time for extra sessions.It was still mid morning break.How the hell did he not think that far?Now everyone would know.Mr. Cole would catch them, and he'd be expelled.Damien's career would be over.He'd probably be arrested.His father would find out and all hell would break loose.The police would probably get involved and it would

DAMIEN Lennon stared up at Damian from the shadowed cave beneath the desk. His lips were swollen and slick, chin glistening with spit and the faint sheen of cum that hadn’t quite made it down his throat. Damian’s cock rested heavy against his tongue—warm and tasting of salt and skin and everything Lennon craved. His own dick ached painfully in the tight confines of his jeans, trapped and leaking steadily into the cotton of his briefs. Every throb was a sharp, needy reminder that he hadn’t been touched once.Damian glowered down at him. The look was lethal. His jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked beneath the stubble. Eyes narrowed to dark slits, nostrils flared like he was two seconds from hauling Lennon out by the hair, bending him over the desk, and fucking him until he screamed loud enough for the entire hallway to hear.Lennon almost laughed. The sheer absurdity of it—the dean had just strolled out after casually

Chapter 49Lennon was sprawled on Archer’s bed like he’d been poured there—legs dangling off the edge, hoodie rucked up around his waist to expose a thin strip of pale skin above the waistband of his sweats. His phone balanced precariously on his stomach, screen glowing soft blue against the late-afternoon sun that slanted through the half-closed blinds, striping the carpet in lazy gold bars.The faint smell of Mrs. Reeves’ lasagna still drifted up from downstairs—garlic, tomato, melted cheese—warm and comforting in a way that made Lennon’s eyelids heavy.Archer paced the room like a caged animal on a triple espresso—barefoot, hair still damp from a shower, wearing nothing but basketball shorts and a faded band tee. He stopped mid-stride and grinned at Lennon, showing perfect teeth. He looked manic, eyes shining with excitement. Lennon couldn’t help rolling his eyes. Whatever it was, he was sure it was weird as fuck.“Yo. You gotta see this.”He flopped down beside Lennon hard enoug