Chapter Four

Rand walked across campus, acutely aware of the sting on his butt cheeks and something hard and thick inside his ass. Every time he took a step, the plug moved inside him. God, so decadently perverted, what would McGuire think of next? Rand wondered if his cock would deflate at all today. Throbbing and leaking like a son of a bitch, his permanent erection served as a constant reminder of the spanking from Frank. Heat rose in his cheeks and he imagined his face matched the color of his ass right now. Christ, had he actually begged Frank to spank him? Oh, God, had he jerked himself off during the spanking and screamed louder than a colicky baby? He had. And he would again, given the opportunity.

Every man's dream, every woman's too if one went by the way they drooled over Frank. Rand admitted he had officially joined their ranks. Topping the charts at six feet, the man's ripped, muscled body, oozed primal sex. Crude and unabashedly bold, Frank delivered pleasure in spades. He frightened and thrilled Rand beyond comprehension. He ached for his touch, yearned to feel his cock slamming into him. Once the man touched him, Rand became like putty under his caresses. He'd do anything to have the man lick his flesh, stroke his shaft, or continue to touch him in the most intimate of places. He didn't care what Frank did to him, as long as kept on doing it. The man had the ability to make him whimper, squirm, and yes, beg.

He walked into class and looked at the students hunkered down at their desks. He wondered if any had anal toys up their asses. No, of course, they didn't. Only Frank McGuire would think of such a thing. He knew how to heighten the tension until Rand was nearly mindless with thoughts of what he'd do to him next. It could be any number of things, and the images brought him to the brink of orgasm.

He slid into the desk and resisted the urge to moan out load when the ass plug pushed upward. As soon as class ended, he'd have to do something about his stiff cock. Frank didn't say he couldn't jack off; he just couldn't remove the plug. Christ, had the man lost his mind? Who'd want to remove something that pitched them into mind-numbing sensations of being fucked all day?

Rand found it hard to concentrate on the professor's lesson of the day―anatomy of the temporal bone and ear. The ass plug and lying naked in Frank's bed tonight occupied his every thought. Oh, God. Tonight couldn't come soon enough.

His heart sank. It wasn't about the sex and mind-blowing pleasure the man brought him. He loved Frank, really loved him, and Frank thought of him as a plaything, a punk kid built for his sexual fantasies. Somehow, he had to get Frank to admit that deep down he loved him, thought of him as more than a sexual object. He knew Frank did; he saw it in his eyes sometimes when he looked at him. Not when they were having sex, but at other times when they were out on the town or playing Frisbee in the park. Frank looked at him strangely on those occasions, not with hunger for his body, but with something deep and secretive that the man wouldn't own. At least for now.

"Mr. Brennan, I asked you a question."

Rand jolted back to the classroom and looked at his professor. He didn't know if Doctor McBride had actually earned a Ph.D. A physician, the man came to John Hopkins to teach shortly after Doctor Bengston died. Rand missed Bengston, a young man of forty who passed away unexpectedly and left three young kids behind. Maybe the pangs of remorse Rand felt from his teacher's death hit too close to home after losing his father at such a young age.

"Mr. Brennan!"

"I'm sorry, sir, I missed the question."

"You missed my question about the carotid artery and jugular venous drainage system because you were too busy watching the meadowlarks outside, were you not?"

"Guilty as charged, sir, and I apologize."

"Are you aware of how many young men would give their eyeteeth to be occupying your desk, Mr. Brennan?"

"Yes, Doctor McBride, I am."

"If you don't want to be here, Brennan, give up your chair to someone who does."

"Yes, sir. I mean, I do want to be here, sir."

The doctor looked over his glasses. "See me after class, Rand."

Oh, God, the King of The Third World Order knew his first name. There would be hell to pay for this if Frank or his mother found out.

Rand made an attempt to sneak out the door after class, hoping McBride had forgotten the incident, but no such luck. "Mr. Brennan, you don't plan to leave without seeing me, do you?"

"No, sir, I planned to return after I visited the restroom."

"The restroom will have to wait." He motioned him forward. "Have a seat, and we'll attempt to get to the bottom of what's keeping you from your studies these days."

Rand slid into the chair, wilier than a snake winding his way through a garden, acutely aware of the plug knocking against his sensitive nerve endings.

"Where do you live, Mr. Brennan?"

"You mean in what part of Baltimore, sir?"

"No, I mean with whom do you reside?"

Rand faltered on the words. "My mother, Doctor McBride, why?"

The doc gave him one of those you-little-liar-looks before he spoke. "That's strange. Yesterday, you left your anatomy notebook on your desk, and today I stopped by the address listed in your file. A woman answered the door, introduced herself as your mother. When I asked to speak with you, she said you didn't live there."

"Well, I do and I don't." Rand squirmed in the chair. Between the plug and the man's intense scrutiny, misery could be his best friend right now. "That is, I lived with my mother until-until several months ago when I moved in with a friend."

"Hmm, well, your mother took the notebook. Did you receive it?"

"No, I did not, sir, but I haven't seen my mother yet today."

"I suggest you contact her tonight and retrieve your notebook." He pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I sense she's worried about you."

Rand's heart thudded. "You do? Did you tell her anything else, sir?"

"Now what else would I tell her, that you watch meadowlarks mate instead of participating in class? Hmm? Should I have told her that?"

"No, sir, she would be upset with me."

"As am I, young man." His tone softened. "Does your mother have a husband? Perhaps I should speak to your father about your latent distractions and boredom in class. I'm certain he'd want to know how his money is being frittered away."

"Not anymore."

Flashbacks of his father rose behind his eyelids, and tears surfaced. He fought them back and looked into McBride's eyes. "He died about six years ago, shot during a bank robbery."

The man stilled and studied him. "I'm sorry to hear that, but I don't think he'd be proud of your behavior these days. Hear me well, Mr. Brennan, I won't tolerate sloth. If you don't plan to be an active member of my class, I'll be forced to ask you to withdraw."

"It won't happen again, that thing with the meadowlarks. I promise to improve. You can count on that, Doctor McBride."

"Good, do we have an understanding?"

Rand nodded.

"One more thing and you may leave. As you know, I'm new to Johns Hopkins, and although I don't personally know the young men who recently died, what do you attribute it to?"

"Pardon, sir?"

"It's a simple question. Do you believe the students walked into the Patuxent like the police claim or do you think nefarious undertakings are underfoot?"

He hesitated and wondered which answer the man wanted. Deciding to go with his gut feeling he said, "I don't believe it's possible that five men, about the same age, would die under the same circumstances in the same city without some assistance."

An interminable amount of time passed before McBride spoke. "In other words, you believe, as do others, a serial killer stalks the streets of Baltimore?"

"Yes, sir, I think it's more than likely."

"Very well, Mr. Brennan, our little tête-à-tête is over. Remember what I said about participating in class from this day forward."

"You can count on it, sir."

With that, Rand scrambled from the desk and rushed out the door of the classroom, too horny at the moment to think about anything but jacking off in the restroom.