Albert was paralyzed. Even in the chilling draft of the old fraternity house, beads of sweat began to roll down his forehead.
"Sir... you're drunk," Albert stammered, his voice cracking. "That drink... it was spiked. You aren't in your right mind! I never thought you'd be this dangerous when you've had a drink. Please, just sleep. I... I need to go."
Albert tried to wrench his hands free, but Louise's grip was surprisingly iron-clad. In a sudden, clumsy tug, Louise pulled Albert's weight toward him. Albert lost his balance and tumbled onto the bed, his body pinning Louise against the dusty mattress.
Their lips were inches apart. Their breaths hitched, mingling in the small space between them.
"I need to forget... I need to forget everything," Louise whispered, his voice trembling as a tear escaped his glazed eyes.
"Sir? Forget what?" Albert asked, his heart aching at the sight.
"My ex... he's torturing me. And my father..." Louise's voice broke into a sob. "He's a monster. He would kill his own blood if he had to."
Louise began to cry—a soft, broken sound that shattered Albert's resolve. He looked so small, so fragile, and so deeply buried in a depression that he had been hiding behind his sharp suits and cold glares.
Albert looked down at him, the desire he had felt all day warring with his conscience. But when Louise looked up at him with those pleading, wet eyes, Albert felt his control slip away. He reached out, gently brushing the messy hair away from Louise's damp face.
Slowly, as if pulled by a magnetic force, they moved. Their lips locked—first softly, then with a deep, desperate passion that tasted of tears and the bitter sting of the mocha.
In the heat of the kiss, Louise's hand moved downward, his fingers clutching and pressing against Albert's trousers. The bold touch sent a jolt of electricity through Albert's spine. He pulled back for a split second, his chest heaving.
"You're going to regret this in the morning, Louise," Albert whispered, his voice dark and husky.
"If I'm going to regret it... then make it harder," Louise challenged, his eyes clouded with a reckless fire.
That was the final thread of Albert's restraint. He stood up just long enough to shed his clothes, his gaze never leaving Louise. He dragged Louise back into his arms, their skin finally meeting in the cool air of the room.
They moved together on the bed, naked and desperate, lost in a haze of forbidden heat. Every kiss was a battle, every touch was a confession. In that dusty, forgotten room, the Professor and his student surrendered to a hard, passionate night that would change everything.
The first light of dawn filtered through the dusty windows of the fraternity guest wing. Louise groaned, his eyelids feeling heavy and swollen. As consciousness slowly returned, he sat up, his mind a hazy fog. He ran a hand through his birds-nest hair and blinked, trying to figure out where he was.
This wasn't his room. This wasn't even the Rev household.
He looked down and saw his expensive suit crumpled in a heap on the dirty floor. Panic flared in his chest. He gripped the edge of the bedsheet and peeked underneath, only to find himself completely bare. His heart hammered against his ribs as he realized he wasn't alone.
Someone was sleeping soundly beside him, skin glowing in the morning light. Louise's eyes went wide. In a fit of sheer terror and adrenaline, he delivered a sharp kick.
"OOF!"
Albert tumbled off the bed, hitting the floor with a heavy thud. "H-haa! Sir! What did you do that for? It hurts!" Albert sat up on the floor, shivering. "It's cold down here..."
Louise stared at him, his face a mask of pure, unadulterated rage.
Albert rubbed his sore back, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Why are you looking at me like that, Sir? Don't tell me you want another round already..."
Louise's mouth fell open, his hands shaking. Suddenly, the memories hit him like a lightning strike. The "Shakira" dancing. The crying. Him begging—begging—for his student to touch him.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Louise let out a blood-curdling scream, diving under the bedsheet and twisting himself into a cocoon. He began to wail, a mix of fake crying and genuine horror. "What have I done?! What did I do?!"
"Sir! Actually—" Albert started, trying to stand up.
"STOP! Don't come any closer! Cover your—" Louise's voice muffled from under the sheet.
Albert quickly reached for a pillow to cover his private parts. "Oh... okay."
"No! I mean cover your eyes!" Louise roared.
"Why, Sir? Don't be shy now... I've already tasted it all," Albert teased.
"WHAT!???"
"I mean... I'm covering them! See? Eyes closed!" Albert held his hands over his eyes.
Louise took the opportunity to bolt from the bed, but the moment his feet hit the floor, a sharp, searing pain shot through him. "Ahhhhh..." he moaned, instinctively clutching his lower back and backside.
Albert immediately dropped his hands and rushed toward him. "Sir! What happened? Are you okay?"
"AHHHHHH! Why did you open your eyes, you stupid brat!?" Louise roared, trying to cover his body with one hand while the other held his aching hip. He limped as fast as he could toward the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
Albert sat back on the edge of the bed, a soft, thoughtful smile replacing his grin. "I told you that you'd regret it in the morning," he whispered to the closed door.
He leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. Is this the start of our love story? Maybe this was fate. Thank you, God. But then, his smile faded. He remembered the broken man from last night. But last night... he talked about his ex. And his father. What was that all about? I was too distracted by the moment to ask, but is he really in that much pain? Why did he need to forget so badly?