[ tim stumbles a little when professor fuller grabs him by the arm, but he follows along in tow, a little perplexed and surprised by the sudden movement. strangely, it unmoors him, especially when he sees the older man immediately light up a cigarette. the smell burns his own nostrils and he has to adjust the coat on his shoulders. is it foolish that the exposed skin on his forearm almost burns from the contact? he hadn't been rough or unkind, just insistent, and yet something about it makes his stomach drop another floor. ]

You tried to gaslight me into thinking I'd been mistaken. I get why, I guess. Whatever situation this is can be delicate and sensitive, but there's nothing wrong with any of it. Not if it's what you want, and not if it's what I want.

[ but he can see the rationale - he is the man's student. a current student, in fact, and with that comes a lot of hangups, a lot of red tape and caution signs. ]

But you could have just said that from the start.

[ especially when i don't know what they're up to outside class

something in that makes tim's blood run cold, makes some of the warmth drain from his face. he's told no one he knows what he does. literally no one has found out how he makes ends meet, how he manages to put himself through school. his family thinks its all on campus work and financial aid and scholarships. his acquaintances just think he's on a full ride.

but something in the way professor fuller says it, makes it feel dirty, what he does. implies that maybe he might not be trustworthy because of that, that him doing what he does might be one of the reasons he can't, beyond it just being a student-teacher problem.

he has a right to think that.

it's a fair judgement. tim accepted a long, long time ago that he will have to answer to all of this later, when he dies and is faced with the questions of his life. purgatory, he figured, at the beginning. but maybe it's changed, now that he's seen professor fuller, knows the kind of things he wants and does, and still wants it now. yeah, those kinds of sins lead to nowhere good. ]

I don't - this is an anomaly. You and me, here. I don't do these things with people. I stay in my dorm, eat when I am able to, do my homework, do my research and I only do... the rest when I have to. It's not -

[ fun? enjoyable? exciting?

no, it's none of that. not with anyone else. ]

You were different. Or - I thought you were.

[ tim takes a half step back, self conscious and feeling the steam beginning to run its way out of his body. but he keeps himself upright, both hands gripping to the strap of his bag like a lifeline. ]

I don't want your money for all this. I don't care what you think it means to me - it's not right to take it. I don't want your money. I wanted -

[ he sucks in a little breath and shakes his head, though he stills when he's given the order. it makes the hairs on his arm stand up, makes a prickle rise up his nape, and he knows he shouldn't feel that way, but he does. ]

I understand all of it. I understand you're afraid your job might be affected if you fuck me. But it isn't really about that. It's me, of course. If I had been any other face I guess it might have ended differently but yes, I understand, sir.

[ the sir comes out on habit alone, and he doesn't even realize he's said it.

he understands that if he were some other brown-eyed, brown-haired pretty face that this man would have taken him to some hotel room, tucked him away for the day, and treated his boy to everything they have been deprived on camera. the touch, the connection, the murmured words in hair and ears, the hands on his body, around his cock, and -

he takes another half step back, boots dragging on the concrete path. ]

Is there anything else, Professor? I don't want to make you late. DC traffic, remember?