This work is copyrighted and is property of the author. If gay stories offend you or if they are illegal in your area, leave. Any resemblance to any people alive or dead, or any event is purely coincidental. If any of the main characters resemble you...well, lemme find my number...
Chapter 2
Sebastian was in a bitch of a mood. He maneuvered his utility rental into one of the less trafficked campus parking lots and came to an abrupt stop under the shade of a large, half denuded tree. He killed the engine then fumbled with the clasps and mesh pockets of his dull grey canvas gear vest in a habitual check for film and other necessities. He found his lighter, but the search for cigarettes came to naught.
Motherfucker.
He didn't smoke much, and never in the field, but sometimes a man just needed something to soothe frayed nerves. As Sebastian saw it, smoking was a hell of a lot better than some of the alternatives he had been offered. He resigned himself to a nicotine-free morning and got out of the vehicle, shouldering a large pack and tripod, mounting the pavement for the trek to the photography building.
Several people took note of him as he passed. One girl broke away from her friends and jogged up to him even though he deliberately shunned eye contact.
"Mr. Fell! I..." She broke off her tentative English as he raised his face to hers. "Ah. Perhaps I'll talk to you later," she said, as he hurried away.
Several others started to approach as he made his way through the quad, but they all retreated at the sight of his scowl. Their brightly expectant faces fell a bit and they retreated without saying a word. The last few weeks he had been so open, smiling, practically inviting you to say hello or venture a question. This new Sebastian was, well....new.
He had never cared about how he looked. In his line of work function was definitely preferred to form. Depending on the place, the weather or the assignment, you could find him in white button down and khakis, fatigues, or even a parka and snowshoes. Today was khaki day. He could go months without being able have a proper haircut so he resigned himself to a shoulder length style that was really no style at all. It was casually pulled back into a ponytail, but tendrils of his slightly curling dark hair usually escaped their insufficient prison to get in his eyes and annoy him.
He might not have cared about his appearance, but many others cared about little else having to do with him. He was a knockout. Nothing he did to himself, not the studious silver-framed glasses, not the broken nose he had gotten in an embarrassing incident in Brazil, detracted from his magnetism. The fact that he didn't realize his appeal made him all the more charming. Usually charming that is. Until today.
Whereas most days he found himself followed by a mixed bag of photo majors and predatory females, today they left him blessedly alone. He smiled with fierce satisfaction blazing in his green cat's eyes. Maybe some of them weren't as dumb as they looked. He wasn't feeling up to small talk and the polite dismissal of increasingly overt sexual innuendo
.
I wonder what they would say if I suddenly said sorry, honey, but I like cock. Can't get enough of it.
He entertained himself with the idea briefly before discarding it. He already had a few male students orbiting around him. No need to trade in the gaggle of biddies for a parade of sycophantic twinks. They were all much of a muchness. It wasn't like he was closeted really, he just didn't wave any rainbow flags. And it wouldn't do to poach in his own preserve.
Besides, the irony would be too much. If he didn't have one of his own firmly attached he would have forgotten what a penis looked like. He had lived like a monk since Jared made that spectacularly dramatic exit from relationshipdom a few years ago.
Sebastian tried to shake off his more morose thoughts as he entered one of the newer buildings that housed the photo lab and several studio classrooms. He searched for the key to the rather bare temporary office that was given to him but gave up the hunt when he saw that the door was already ajar. The smell of coffee wafted into the hallway. He closed his eyes, savoring the aroma for a regretful second.
Water of the gods.
He nudged open the door and glared at the rooms lone occupant.
"You jerk."
"What?"
His assistant Rob tried to look innocent, batting his pale blue eyes. He failed miserably.
"You know what. You know I can't drink it and you deliberately ambushed me with it. You....you..." Words almost failed him. "Coffee guerilla!"
Sebastian set down his equipment and dropped himself into an ergonomic nightmare of an institutional chair, glaring at his so-called friend. Rob only blinked.
"Well, who pissed in yer chili this mornin," Rob drawled, deliberately mimicking Sebastian's softly slurred southern accent and one of his favorite sayings. Sebastian just flipped Rob off and opened up the caffeine-free coke Rob handed to him from the tiny fridge in the corner. Friends could be the very devil.
"Darlin, who needs other people when I can piss in my own?" Sebastian deliberately matched Rob's teasing exaggeration. He was used to the grief his accent caused, and had actually come to enjoy it. He loved it when people naturally assumed that southern meant stupid. Almost as much as he loved proving them wrong. And when he traveled abroad like now; well, everyone loves a cowboy, even if he doesn't look the part.
Maybe not everyone. He winced at the memory.
"Ah. Just trying to get in touch with your inner asshole then?"
Even in the midst of a raging bitch fit, Sebastian couldn't quite turn off the banter he always fell into with Rob. "Yes Rob. Yes, that's it. You've found me out. That sabbatical I took last year was all a front. Instead of Spain I went to the highest reaches of the Himalayas where I was initiated into secret rites by monks trained in the shit-throwing-monkey style of ninjitsu. They realigned my chakras and made me a master of asshole kung fu. Happy?"
Rob licked his finger and fired an imaginary gun at Sebastian, an acknowledgement of a hit in their ongoing game of competitive one-upmanship. Score one for Seb; the first hit of the day.
"Very. So how did things go last night, or do I really need to ask?"
Sebastian groaned as he thought about how to best answer Rob's question. He had hoped to avoid this. Trust Rob to get to the heart of the matter.
"C'mon, you've been calling him for weeks, what happened when you just showed up on his doorstep?"
