Semua Bab My Off-limits Professor... But He's Mine (MM Romance): Bab 41 - Bab 50

ADRIAN'S POV The air in the exam hall hangs heavy, stagnant with the scent of graphite dust and nervous sweat. It is a suffocating silence, broken only by the rhythmic, aggressive scratching of pens against paper and the occasional, shifting creak of a wooden chair. Professor Adrian paces the narrow aisles between the desks, the heels of his polished oxfords clicking sharply against the linoleum, a metronome for the students’ anxiety. He moves like a predator, his gaze sweeping over the bowed heads, looking for the slightest twitch of dishonesty. The fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a stark, clinical light over the room. Adrian stops near the back row. Something is off. Kai, usually a slouching mess of arrogance, is sitting rigid, his eyes darting not to his paper, but downward toward his lap. Adrian narrows his eyes, taking a silent step closer. The blue glow of a screen illuminates Kai’s thigh, reflecting sharply against the varnished wood of the desk. He is cheating,

ADRIAN'S POV The restaurant hums with the clatter of cutlery and the low murmur of lunchtime conversation, the air thick with the scent of frying grease and stale coffee. Adrian sits at a small, sticky table near the window, William already up and striding toward the counter to order. Adrian thumb flicking rapidly over his phone screen as he scrolls through Instagram account, It’s a memory from six years ago—a "On This Day" prompt featuring a photo of him in high school.He taps the image. It expands, filling the screen with the ghost of a boy who looks nothing like the man sitting here now. The sensory details of that time hit him like a physical blow. The metallic tang of blood in his mouth after a beating in the locker room. The rough scrape of concrete against his cheek as he curled into a ball. The sharp, cutting laughter of his school mate echoing off the tiled walls, slurs like "faggot" and "queer" hanging in the humid air. He remembers the teachers looking away, the isolation

RYDER'S POV "Meet me at the Grand Regency Hotel," Adrian cuts him off, not giving him a chance to refuse. "Room 412. Don't make me wait." He ends the call with a sharp tap of his thumb, the screen going black instantly. The phone is shoved deep into his pocket, the weight of it heavy against his thigh. Adrian strides out of the kitchen, his footsteps echoing on the hardwood floor. He passes his mother in the hallway; she offers him a small, sad smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners with a silent understanding that he isn't ready to accept. He doesn't stop. He pushes open the front door and slides into the driver’s seat of his sedan. The engine roars to life with a growl that matches the pounding of his heart. He throws the car into gear and peels out of the driveway, tires squealing on the asphalt, leaving the safety of his home behind and driving straight toward the desire he has denied himself for too long. ************ Ryder speeds through the city streets, the landsc

RYDER'S POV The blue light of the smartphone screen cuts through the dim gloom of Ryder’s bedroom, illuminating the goofy grin plastered across his face. He lies sprawled across his duvet, legs kicking idly against the mattress as his thumbs fly over the glass. The notification sound pings—a soft, distinct chime that sends a jolt of electricity straight to his groin. Miss that tight ass already. Can’t stop thinking about how you looked taking my dick in the bathroom.~ R Ryder reads the words, his breath hitching in his throat. The memory hits him like a physical weight—the steam of the shower stall fogging up the mirrors, the slick, wet sound of skin slapping against skin, and the way Adrian’s fingers dug bruisingly into his back while he fucked him against the tiled wall. It had been raw, frantic, the best sex of his life. He shifts his hips, his cock already half-hard and straining against the fabric of his sweatpants just thinking about the professor’s thick body. He typ

ADRIAN'S POV The heavy oak door of Adrian’s townhouse clicks shut, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. For two weeks, this rhythm has defined his existence—Ryder slipping inside, clothes already half-unbuttoned, the air between them thick with the promise of a rough, desperate fuck. But lately, the pattern has fractured. Ryder still comes, but he arrives swathed in layers, a black surgical mask obscuring the lower half of his face, a hoodie pulled low over his brow. He looks like a criminal hiding from a surveillance camera, not a lover sneaking into a professor’s bed. Adrian watches him from the couch, noting the tension in Ryder’s shoulders, the way he keeps his distance until the physical need takes over. He wants to rip the mask off, to demand an explanation, but the fear of breaking the fragile spell silences him. He tells himself to wait, to see if today brings a change. The day at the university passes in a monotonous blur of chalk dust and droning lectures. Adrian s