During the first day of the new semester, Professor Robert Callaghan sits patiently at his desk and waits as students take turns introducing themselves to one another. The sweet girl, the smiley one that towers over everyone, speaks first, then the tough looking one, the asian woman, terse with her replies. When Tadashi Hamada rises from his seat, he waves nervously, ignoring his friend's snickers, most likely waiting for him to stutter and flail but he doesn't.

"Hi, I'm Tadashi Hamada," he announces. The novice stands proudly, unabashed, despite any jitters he may feel. "I guess I really just want to help people. I'm pretty excited to start my robotics project and I hope it really makes a difference."

Robert smiles, chin elevated slightly as he mulls the boy over. He certainly has no interest in putting himself on a pedestal; confident but not to the point of arrogance. Robert likes that.

"I mean, it might not be as cool as hover crafts or microscopic spyware, but I'm sure I won't disappoint."

"Thank you, Mr. Hamada," Professor Callaghan replies. "Your humility is something I think we can all appreciate."

Tadashi nods, cheeks reddened and flushed from the appraise. He sits back down and looks away, shyly. Tadashi doesn't seem the shy type, Robert notes. This sort of...fumbling demeanor doesn't seem befitting for someone eloquent like Tadashi.

It's an obvious attraction on Tadashi's part and nothing more (possibly a harmless crush). Not that Robert has any qualms. This young man is certainly a charming one, gracing the classroom with his warm brown eyes and affectionate laughter. He's tall, slender, with dark hair cut above prominent ears.

On campus, when he walks among his peers, Robert notices that Tadashi doesn't mind lolling quietly in the background.

Everything carries on, as per usual. Fall semester brings crisp and crunched leaves, thick scarves, pumpkin spice lattes and on a less desirable note, piles upon piles of essays waiting to be graded. Robert takes his time. He writes encouraging notes on Tadashi's research papers and when he hands them back, he offers an appeasing grin to his protégé.

Soon enough, Tadashi comes knocking on his door during office hours.

"And I don't really know what to do," Tadashi is currently lamenting as he paces nervously in Robert's office.

When he speaks of his designs, he comes to life, hands fluttering in animated gestures.

Tadashi continues, "Last night I switched him on—Baymax, I mean. He set off an electric surge that shut down power in my lab. It took me forever to reboot him."

"Sounds like you could use a little guidance," Callaghan says, nodding thoughtfully. "I know you attend my workshops but maybe one on one tutoring might solve this problem?"

"Yes! I mean, absolutely, when I have time," Tadashi exclaims, lighting up from the suggestion. "I'll do whatever I can to get Baymax to cooperate with me. It would mean so much if—oh—"

A faint buzz reverberates in the pockets of Tadashi's pants. "That's probably my little brother."

"Go on, then," Callaghan urges with the wave of his hand. "Family first."

Tadashi reaches into his pocket and clutches for his phone. After skimming through the contents of his

text message, Tadashi inches towards the door.

"Sorry, I guess I should go. I can't leave that little twerp home alone for too long, otherwise he gets bored."

Robert relishes in the sheepish grin etched across the student's face.

"By all means, take care of those family matters. Mr. Hamada?"

Tadashi pauses in the midst of his ministration, his grip on the doorknob going slack. "Yes, sir?"

"Take care of yourself, too. I don't want you to wind up hurting yourself."

"I will, professor."

The door shuts. A crescendo of scurrying footsteps slowly fades into the empty hall.

Robert busies himself with menial chores. He checks emails he's received from the school board and tries not to memorize the broad tilt of the younger man's shoulders.

Another month passes by. Tadashi's visits during office hours become frequent. It's flattering, to say the least. Pupils have shown interest in him before. There was a unique bond between a teacher and a litter filled with opened minds waiting to be filled. Acting on sheer impulse and responding to Tadashi's inquisitive nature would be wholly unethical and just wrong. The boy is twenty, for god's sake, and Callaghan is a middle aged man.

And that's what he tells himself, repeatedly, during his tutoring sessions. This is the mantra he commits to memory when the two are huddled close, studying the details of an intricately detailed circuit board and he can smell the mixture of sweat and cologne on the boy's neck. This is what Robert Callaghan adheres to when he boldly holds his gaze as Tadashi turns his back to him and bends over to plug a cord back into the wall.

Today, Tadashi sits in the back of his class, in a desperate attempt to go unnoticed. He buries his face into his hands, thinking that will mask his drooping, tired eyes from his professor.

"Am I boring you, Mr. Hamada?" Robert asks, in the middle of his lecture, when Tadashi's head collapses into his folded arms.

"No, sir," Tadashi mumbles, snapping up from his slouched posture. "Sorry."

The classs sniggers and whispers jeering remarks. Tadashi's closest companions emit a long string of "ooohs."

For the remainder of class, Tadashi wills himself to focus. At the end of his lecture, Robert says, "Mr. Hamada? Would you mind speaking with me after lass?"

"Good luck, dude," Wasabi sighs, patting Tadashi on the back.

"He's going to drag you," Gogo hisses into his ear, stifling her laughter.

Robert pretends not to notice and instead shuffles papers absentmindedly. When everyone else leaves, Tadashi grimaces and waddles reluctantly towards Callaghan's desk.

"I suppose I'll let you explain yourself," Robert derides. The disappointment in his tone is abundantly clear and Tadashi ducks his head, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, professor. I was up late last night, I had something to take care of-"

"Let's pray that it was school related, for your sake."

"No, I—it was Hiro. My little brother."

"If these family issues become a weekly regime, Tadashi, you'll have to let me know. I don't tolerate

slackers and I certainly don't appreciate students napping during my lectures."

Tadashi sighs and rubs his temples. Robert is close enough now that he can see dark, sunken circles pooling under his eyes. When his student doesn't reply, Robert reprimands, "Are we on the same page, Hamada?"

"Yes, Professor Callaghan. It won't happen again."

"Mr. Hamada."

"Yeah?"

"I hope your parents are at least compensating you for the amount of time spent babysitting your brother," Robert jokes, lightly, seeking to provide some sort of relief. But the boy isn't amused.

Tadashi's expression crumbles, as though he had just been slapped across the face. His mouth parts open and he blinks and from what Robert can tell, it appears as though he's trying to choose his words carefully.

"I don't—my parents—I figured everyone knew—"

He trips over words that come tumbling out of his mouth quicker than he can process them in his mind. Robert is immediately ashamed but it's too late to take back his remark. Not much else needs to be articulated. He can piece together the gist of the story.

"That was careless of me, Tadashi, I'm terribly sorry."

"No," Tadashi protests, bidding a weary smile. He seizes the straps of his tote tight enough to whiten his knuckles. "You had no idea my parents were dead. It's not your fault. Really, its alright."

When the sunken frown on his teacher's face doesn't falter, Tadashi sways back and forth on the balls of his feet, and reassuringly adds, "I'm fine, professor. I promise."

"If I had known what you were going through-"

Tadashi waves his hands abruptly, in the guise of a stop signal.

"It was a long time ago and please don't treat me any differently because of it. You're right, I shouldn't be falling asleep during class. Water under the bridge, okay?"

In one swift motion, Tadashi swings his tote over his shoulder and pivots meekly through a sea of desks in order to reach the exit. The smile he gives Professor Callaghan before departing is both pained and genuine.

The guilt permeates and hangs over him for the rest of the day, particularly during his drive home—something about quiet and empty car rides permits him to reflect just how selfish his priorities are. When enters his apartment, he drops the keys on his counter and doesn't hesitate to pour himself a glass of scotch.

Robert is at least offered some relief, however, when he receives a text from his daughter, Abigail. Her messages goes into detail about exciting and new job prospects. The two arrange a time and place to have Sunday brunch together. Robert flips open his laptop and tries not to picture how Abigail would react if she somehow found out her father was lusting after his student.

It's alarming, to say the least, when Robert enters the facilities early the next morning and is confronted with the very object of his immoral desires. He sighs, wishing it were easier to avoid Tadashi during a task as routine as washing his hands in the bathroom.

Upon entering the restroom, it takes him a moment to realize that Tadashi is hunched over the sink, pressing paper towels into his face. Specks of blood pepper the otherwise spotless marble surface.

"Tadashi," Robert greets, warily. "Are you alright?"

"Oh-" Tadashi hasn't registered Robert's looming presence until now. With a humble swivel of his head, the student adds, still nursing his injury, "Hi, Professor Callaghan."

Robert stands inches apart from him, closing the gap between them when he cautiously steers onwards.

"Let me take a look at that. My daughter used to get bloody noses when she was a little girl. Allergies."

"I'm fine, Professor," Tadashi objects.

He crumples up the paper towel and stuffs it in the sink's chasm. Having a better view, Robert assess the damage. His fixation must've been too concentrated for Tadashi's liking, his face reddens and he darts his eyes elsewhere. However, he does not flinch when Robert gently reaches for his chin, clasping it with his fingers and thumb. He turns the battered face to the side so it meets his line of vision.

"Your nose isn't broken," Robert confirms. Tadashi sighs in relief. "Be thankful."

With very little dialogue, Robert gathers dampened paper towels and wipes the blood clean and shortly thereafter, the bleeding stops.

"Sorry," Tadashi apologizes when they both finish cleaning up the mess and throwing the used toiletries into the trashcan.

"Nothing to be sorry about, though an explanation would be nice," Robert says, grinning as the boy shifts his weight and runs his fingers along the nape of his neck.

"This is going to sound really stupid, but my robot punched me in the face. I tried rebooting him and he just started swinging his limbs around and—well—he swiped me pretty good."

Robert finds himself blurting out a very dry chuckle and he quickly disguises it by clearing his throat.

"I'm serious," Tadashi says, scowling, seeing through Robert's attempt to stifle his laughter.

"I''m sorry but picturing your friendly, healthcare companion actually punching someone-"

"I know. The irony isn't lost on me."

This time, when Robert snorts, Tadashi joins him only to stop abruptly. He winces and says, "I probably shouldn't-"

"Yes, take it easy. Go home if you need to. You don't look like you've gotten a lot of sleep."

Tadashi rubs his eyes and almost instinctively yawns, mumbling, "I was up all night trying to fix the glitch. I'll be okay, though. I just need some coffee."

Robert purses his lips and exhales through his nose, then warns, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?"

"You're overworking yourself."

"I appreciate your concern, sir, but I can take care of myself."

The boy gazes unflinchingly, leaning against the sink, arms folded. There's no malice in his voice, only the assured sense of self that drew him to Tadashi in the first place. This doesn't make his youthful stubbornness any less of a nuisance, however.

Robert sighs, then closes his eyes; a language he's used before on his daughter during her rebellious teenage years.

"Tadashi, you can't sacrifice your health to get the results you want."

"I'm not just doing it for me," Tadashi counters. "It—this isn't about me."

He lowers his voice towards the end of his sentence when he hears a nearby door open and close. Other faculty members are entering the building now. Robert isn't sure how much time he has left to speak with Tadashi, uninterrupted.

"I know, Tadashi," Robert reasons. "I'm just worried. You fell asleep in my class yesterday and today, you've lost yet another night of sleep. Go home."

"You're not my father," Tadashi argues, childishly. He's hugging his chest, fingers digging into his arms.

As if this exchange weren't uncomfortable enough. Robert digs his hands in his pockets, struggling to coin the nature of their relationship because he wouldn't use the term 'fatherly' to describe himself as of late.

"I'm sorry," Tadashi blurts, the apology dribbling nervously from his mouth. "That's-you're right-"

"No, you're right. I'm not your father and I shouldn't pry."

"I don't mind."

"Mind what?"

"You looking out for me. Thank you for that."

"Of course," Robert says. He places a hand on his shoulder and smiles. "If you ever need anything, Tadashi, you can talk to me."

When their gazes align, an electric surge snaps between them. Maybe its because the building is so quiet, he can hear the rise and the fall of the other man's chest. Perhaps its because they're close enough that Robert can spot the abrasions on Tadashi's knuckles, the tiniest hints of stubble forming along his jawline, the clean line of his throat, the way his Adam's apple bobs whenever he swallows- god he's pretty.

Alas, Tadash is far from imperceptive so when he finally catches up to wherever Robert's stare travels, his eyes widen in realization. Before Robert can explain himself—explain his unacceptable fixation— the air is withered from his lungs.

Tadashi grabs Robert by the front of his shirt, fisting his hands in the fleecy material of his sweater vest, jerking him forward. Soft lips mash against his with a brute force mighty enough to chip his two front teeth.

Robert freezes. His hands hover in place. He doesn't remember that he's supposed to blink and breathe manually. It all ends quicker than it began when Tadashi pulls himself away, gasping, mortified, mouth ajar, clutching the surface supporting his weight, as if he could collapse any moment.

"I'm sorry," Tadashi splutters. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that, sir, I'm-"

Adding this decision to the pile of mistakes he's made this year, Robert lunges forward and kisses him back. A startled whimper tears from Tadashi's throat as his professor pins him against the sink and coaxes him to part his mouth with a persistent tongue.

Robert wasn't sure what was worse; the fact that he hadn't stopped himself earlier, before their encounter, the fact that he had kissed Tadashi back, or his choice to plant his hands firmly at the kid's waist. Tadashi's own hands hover gawkily at his sides and it isn't until Robert nips lightly at his lower lip and slides his tongue inside, fully- to taste what he assumes is mint gum that the innovator had been chewing earlier- that Tadashi's find Robert's shoulders. He squeezes them hard, urging Robert to bend their bodies even closer together and Robert foolishly complies, shifting his knee to glide between Tadashi's legs.

It's Robert who breaks the kiss once he feels the beginnings of the beginnings of Tadashi's arousal brushing against his knee. He recoils as though he were bitten by a serpent, covering his mouth with dampened and sweaty palms. Tadashi catches his breath. His cheeks are pink and when his tongue darts to wet his lips, Robert has to look away.

"What..." Tadashi murmurs, dazed and shocked.

"Go home, Tadashi," Robert orders, hoarsely. He wipes his mouth with his hand, hoping it will remove any lingering bits of Tadashi that still cling to him.

Robert can see questions forming on his student's face but he shuts them down before he has the opportunity to reconsider.

"Sir, I—Prof—ah, C-C-allaghan-"

The poor thing; he's struggling to find the proper moniker suitable for his teacher because that barrier between mentor and protégée has been broken. He's intelligent but still so naive-too juvenile to recognize that there is no proper way to address the older man anymore. Robert had stupidly rid that stability when he stuck his tongue down a twenty-year-old robotics major's throat.

"Please," Robert begs. He shuts his eyes and waves of nausea overcome him.

It must've sounded pitiful, but Tadashi obeys, his face crumpled in rejection as he darts out the door and brushes past Robert's arm.

Focusing on his lecture is damn near impossible but Robert tries. His eyes skip across the room to rest on the empty desk that Tadashi usually takes.

It begins to rain on his drive home. How fitting. When Abigail calls, he answers on his bluetooth and he mask his sorrow (though it isn't hard to do when he hears her beamish tone).

Far, far too late into the evening, there's a knocking at his door, right as Robert finishes heating up his plate of lasagna. Sighing, he heads for the doorway and twists the knob, reluctantly because he wants nothing more than to sit down in front of his tv and eat his leftovers. Alone.

The door swings open and Tadashi Hamada stands before him, breathless, his hair damp from the rainfall. His pupils are dilated due to the rush of adrenaline he's been slapped with—clearly visiting Robert's place after the incident was a spur of the moment decision. Robert shakes his head and contemplates shutting the door but he'll give the boy the benefit of the doubt.

"What are you doing here, Mr. Hamada?"

"I had to see you, Mr. Callaghan," Tadashi explains. "I wanted to apologize for earlier."

"So you came to my apartment? Are you out of your mind?

"I got your address from the directory," Tadashi gulps. He paces woodenly, shifting his foot between the sliver of space between the entrance and the doormat that reads "welcome." Nevertheless, Tadashi isn't exactly being showered with such pleasantries at the moment.

"Wonderful."

"Please, just—I'm sorry, sir. Really, I am, but we need to talk about this."

"No, we don't," Robert replies, curtly. "This is inappropriate and I won't further this highly unethical meeting."

Robert slams the door shut, or at least tries to, but Tadashi manages to shove a foot within the doorway, halting any forcible movement.

"Hamada, for the love of god."

Robert grumbles in protest and swings the door open again. There's no use in stopping Tadashi. He'd probably keep knocking long after Robert booted him out.

"Come in," Robert grunts, irritably. "Just make it quick."

Beaming with enthusiasm, Tadashi bounces onward, scanning the premises in awe. He drops his book bag by the doorway and says, "Whoa, nice place. It's so big."

"Sorry," Tadashi rushes, when Robert frowns. "Right, make it quick."

Robert mumbles. "Take a seat."

The ascertained yet anxious adolescent nods, pulling up a chair at his professor's dinner table, sitting in the most contrived and rigid manner hat Robert thinks he's ever seen. Tadashi has always been polite to the point of sheer absurdity.

"Can I get you anything, Hamada?" Robert asks, tending to the counter to pour himself a glass of scotch.

"I'll have what you're having," Tadashi answers, quickly altering his response when Robert turns his head to glare at him. "Joking, of course!"

The Japanese man wriggles in his seat and bites his lip uneasily when Robert sits down adjacent to him.

"Mr. Callaghan, I'm so sorry for any distress I've caused," Tadashi blubbers, everything on his mind tumbling out all at once. "I'm sorry for grabbing you and kissing you."

After a harsh swig of scotch, Robert hisses, "Stop apologizing. None of this is your fault. It's mine. I'm your teacher. I took advantage of your...feelings when I should have stopped you much sooner."

"But you didn't," Tadashi adds. There's a warm glint in his eyes that more or less proves his sincerity.

"I didn't," Robert repeats.

"Why not?"

Robert sucks in a deep breathe. There's little time to prepare himself mentally for what he's about to admit.

"Because I'm attracted to you, Tadashi."

"Sir-"

"I've been attracted to you since the day I met you. You're a bright, thoughtful, compassionate, and hardworking young man. I see greatness in you and I haven't felt so much admiration for someone in-"

Sine his wife passed away, he wants to say.

"-a long, long time."

The microwave still beeps in the background, alerting Robert that his food has finished heating. The pitter patter from the rain hitting his windows is the only other distinguishable noise in the room that's fallen dead silent. If Robert were to lean any closer, he would be able to make out the sound of his student's heart thundering against his ribcage.

"I feel the same way," Tadashi proclaims, bluntly, disrupting the muted hearth. Brown eyes bore into his with a magnitude much too powerful for Robert's weary temperament. Tadashi rises from his seat to stand by Robert, who still slumps in his, hand clutching the glass of scotch.

"And we'll leave it at that."

"Why?"

"Why? I'm old enough to be you father and you're a twenty- year-old student—my student."

Tadashi towers over him from this angle. Robert swallows hard. When did he become so tall? He surveys the youth who refuses to budge, arms clung unflinchingly to his sides. He must have showered once he went home to get some rest because Robert can smell whatever shampoo Tadashi used. His legs are so long and rather thin, not that Robert hasn't noticed before, its just that this is the closest he's been to them—to him, to Tadashi.

"Mr. Callaghan."

Robert tears his eyes away from Tadashi's figure. The boy isn't stupid. He's felt this same stare inflicted upon him earlier. Today. In the bathroom. Right before Tadashi caught on and kissed him because of it.

Robert's free hand clutches the edge of the table. His mouth has become so parched and dry.

"Mr. Callaghan," Tadashi tries again. "I don't want any trouble. I thought maybe I could make you happy."

"Make an old man happy? Good grief, Hamada, can't you find someone a bit younger?"

"Hey, I think you're kinda handsome for an older guy," Tadashi playfully jeers. "A silver fox, or whatever."

"That's beside the point. I'm having a difficult time putting this behind me and you keep crossing these lines. I'm not sure what to do."

Robert squeezes his eyes shut and he grunts in frustration.

"You show up at my apartment. What if someone had seen you? Followed you here? You're making it more difficult than it should be."

Finally, Tadashi bargains, "You can do whatever you want to me," and Robert's lungs seize up, mid-sip, and he sputters his scotch all over the tabletop.

"I mean it. I-I like you a lot, Mr. Callaghan. I've wanted this."

Because Robert isn't professional enough-

Because Robert isn't strong enough-

Because Robert isn't smart enough, evidently, he lurches out of his seat like a predator in a savannah and pulls Tadashi forward until their bodies are flush against one another.

For a few moments, neither speak: they simply breathe, blink and wait for the latter to break apart or verbalize their disapproval. The kiss he stole was hungry and depraved, with scrapes of teeth, lips, and tongue, none too gentle.

Tadashi doesn't seem to mind, however, as he melts into Robert's firm grip, easily letting his mentor claim him. When Robert probes his tongue further and tickles the roof of Tadashi's mouth, a pleased gasp trickles from his throat.

Robert stops his ministrations and asks, "Are you sure about this?"

Tadashi lets out a tiny whine of protest, barely audible, so quiet that Tadashi probably didn't hear it himself and he answers, "Yes."

"Good."

Tadashi tilts forward hoping to continue, but Robert shakes his head.

"My bed," he orders, hoarsely, almost terrified by the command leaving his mouth,.

Robert hops onto the mattress and rests his back against the bed frame and a heap of pillows. When Tadashi climbs to join him, Robert says, "Stop. Stay by the foot of the bed."

"Okay," Tadashi abides, nonchalantly. He takes a few steps back.

Robert tries to swallow but his lips are chapped and there's little salvation in his mouth. He gazes intently at Tadashi, who waits patiently for his next step. Robert folds his hands neatly in his lap and asks, "Would you mind undressing for me, Tadashi? Strip down to your underwear."

Maybe that was too forward. Tadashi blushes and recoils slightly.

"You don't need to if you're uncomfortable," Robert soothes. "It's alright."

"No," Tadashi dissents. "I can. I just—I've never done this before."

"...Are you a virgin?"

"No," Tadashi replies, brusquely, his mouth tightening into a thin line. "Um, I've done it before with a girl."

"But never with a man," Robert completes for him, knowingly.

"Yeah," Tadashi says, arching his brow. Nonetheless, he reaches to yank his shirt over his head.

"Wait," Robert clarifies. "Do it slowly."

Tadashi obeys. Again, he grabs the hem of his top and pulls it over his neck and shoulders, tossing it aside until his chest is bare. Robert groansand its embarrassing. He's seen men and women undress before him but this was painfully arousing and its been over a decade since he's been with a man. No longer shy after seeing what kind of effect his nubile body had on the older man, Tadashi grins and unbuttons his skinny jeans.

They fall to the floor when he shimmies out of them and they pool around his ankles. Tadashi kicks them aside and looks away, bashfully, when Robert chuckles at his boxer briefs—they're black, dotted in little cartoony prints of happy sushi rolls. Still not entirely sure why he agreed to this and gave into his shameless urges, Robert places his hands behind his head as he enjoys the view.

Not overtly muscular or sinewy, Tadashi is blessed with a slim and sleek build. There are traces of tone on his biceps, along his torso, accompanied with soft hairs that dip into the area still cloaked by his underwear. Thin waist, narrow hipbones peeking through fabric—Robert growls and it doesn't startle Tadashi one bit. The boy seems rather pleased with himself.

"What now, sir?" Tadashi jokes lightly. He folds his hands docilely behind his back.

"Don't-" Robert groans. "Don't do that, lord above, I don't know if I can handle it. Get up here."

Eagerly, Tadashi springs onto the mattress to straddle Robert's thighs. He grins down at his mentor with a stupid, toothy, and beautiful smile. There's a charged vigor pulsing between, forceful enough arrest a heartbeat. It stretches among them, straining, until Robert mutters, "This is so wrong," partially declaring this to himself and partially to the rest of civilization.

"Are you sure you want this?" Tadashi asks, reversing their roles, watching him carefully.

To punctuate his consent, Robert places a pair of calloused hands on Tadashi's hips, kneading them in tiny circles. He pulls the half naked robotics engineer down to slide his tongue into his mouth. Tadashi's lips are warm and soft as they open thirstily for Robert. Savoring the feel of Tadashi's tongue against his own, he relishes the way Tadashi's responds so easily to his lead.

"Undress me," Robert pants.

Tadashi's fingers skim along the buttons of Roberts dress shirt and he plucks them apart, one by one, shaking somewhat, all the while. Attempting to salivate his mouth and throat, Robert seeks to encourage his protégé.

"You're nervous," He comments.

"A little," Tadashi admits.

"Don't be. You're gorgeous."

"That's—wow—thank you, that's really—oh—nice of you to say."

Lurching up from his reclined position Robert knots his hands in kitten soft hair, places a firm kiss on Tadashi's lips, then smothers his neck with bites and nibbles: it turns out he's very sensitive there. Gentle breathes hover above the junction in which his ear meets his jawline and Robert learns that licking the shell of Tadashi's ear generates a violent shudder. Suckling on the sensitive cartilage earns him a sharp gasp. In one swift maneuver, Robert grabs Tadashi by the waist and flips them over so the slender boy is trapped against his weight.

Fingertips and tongue take turns testing the hard peak of his nipples. He inhales crisply when Robert parts his thighs. A long swipe of tongue lavishes Tadashi's abdomen. The hair on his belly tickles Robert's nose as he nips his way closer and closer to the erection that didn't take much to spawn.

"S-sir? Can I call you Robert? What do I call you?"

Tugging the sushi printed underwear from Tadashi's hips, Robert answers, "Whatever you want," and proceeds to punish his student: not for any forthright purpose: he just wants to make the fledgeling squirm. Tadashi did say that Robert could do whatever he wanted. It was merely an obligation.

Robert wraps his lips around Tadashi's cock, taking his time, drawing it out with gentle suckles that aren't nearly enough.

When Robert applies a lubricated index finger, easing his way inside cautiously, with utmost precision, Tadashi can barely handle the pleasure racking his body. Attempting to wriggle and selfishly take the newfound bliss for himself doesn't earn Tadashi any favors. The flat of Robert's other hand presses down on his navel, restraining him.

The hot, wet mouth swallowing his erection whole resigns Tadashi to an obedience that could make Robert weep. He fights to keep his hips in place and dutifully allows his body to be picked apart and stripped bare. In a curious attempt to watch his stiff cock receive such torturous and delightful stimulation, Tadashi props himself up on his elbows.

Robert's probing finger reaches his prostate and his elbows give out. Tadashi slips onto his back, writhing, knees bent, spine arching off the mattress, throat bared. Robert can't help but chuckle, marveling in the way his practiced fingers make Tadashi twist, turn, and bend to his boundaries. The muscles in Tadashi's belly quiver and his lips move in a noisy tandem, mewls of, "Please, Professor Callaghan—Robert—yes, mmff, more," color the air surrounding them.

Continuing for what Robert is sure must feel like hours for his subordinate, he uses his fingers to prepare Tadashi with never enough pressure or speed, until Tadashi is openly wailing into his fist, hoping that will muffle the intensity of his pleas. By the time Tadashi has been tormented enough to render him slack and boneless, Robert rolls the condom over his erection and pushes inside, meeting very little resistance. Their lovemaking begins with slow, shallow thrusts while Tadashi lies on his back, wrapping his legs around Robert's waist, urgently bucking into each blow.

"That's good, Tadashi," Robert encourages him, through breathy groans. "Good boy."

Robert snaps his hips forward and his length rattles relentlessly against Tadashi's prostate. Whimpering, Tadashi reaches for his own throbbing member but Robert bats his hand away, using a free hand to pin Tadashi's wrists above his head.

A stream of whines trickle from Tadash's lips, followed by powerless chants praising, "oh god oh god oh god, Robert, Robert, yes," until Robert can tell how close the smaller man is. The way Tadashi clenches around him—the good pull and squeeze surrounding his cock feels perfect- alerts Robert that his climax is approaching. He doesn't care how loud and deep his own moans are and whether or not his neighbors can hear him, he only cares about the tightness engulfing his arousal and the fact that it's Tadashi below him, following his lead with the same enthusiasm.

Tadashi's toes curl and Robert can feel the pair of heels dig into his sides. If it weren't for Tadashi's incoherent babbling, he's sure he could determine the state of ecstasy the boy is in solely from the looks of it—disheveled, damp hair stuck to his forehead, eyes dark and hooded with lust, handsome face twining and wringing, contorting and stretching as Robert surges into the perfect angle, bottoming out each time his hips snap forward.

Tadashi tries to bite down his scream as he comes, his thighs clinching tight around Robert's torso and it proves to be a fruitless endeavor; he flagrantly yelps anyhow when his back arcs into a final thrust and he comes, spilling seed onto his abdomen. Robert removes his grip from Tadashi's wrists, allowing him to drag and rake his nails down Robert's back as he rides out his orgasm. Panting and applauding Tadashi feeling so incredible, Robert comes with a force equivalent to being punched in the gut.

Afterwards, Robert collapses atop his student, shrouded in disbelief, quivering and anxious from what they had just done. Stretched out naked below his mentor, Tadashi exhales, "Whoa," and Robert can't help but laugh. Albeit, its a dry and coarse laughter because burying himself inside a primed form- after what has been years- has robbed him the capacity to breathe.

They don't remain lifeless for long. Tadashi pushes the heavier man off him and he scrambles to pick up his clothes off the floor, blushing when he reveals his nakedness.

"What are you doing?" Robert snort.

"I didn't think you'd want to me stick around," Tadashi admits, woefully, hoisting his boxer brief up his skinny legs.

"You think I'd use you and then kick you out?"

"I wouldn't know. I've never done this before," Tadashi elaborates. "Sleep with someone I'm not dating, I mean. Also someone whose more than two decades older than me."

"Stay," Robert suggests, softly. "Spend the night with me."

Tadashi extends a watery smile as he clutches his t-shirt to his chest and says, "I just can't expect anything to come from this. You're my professor. I want it—I do—so much, but isn't it better if we end it now before either of us gets hurt?"

"You're the one who kissed me first."

"You kissed me back."

"So we're both in this together," Robert agrees.

"I-" Tadashi gulps crestfallen. "Mr. Callaghan I'm not good at losing people so if I'm setting myself up for something that can't work out, I don't know if.-"

Concerned, Robert motions Tadashi to come closer.

"Hey," Robert soothes. He places his hands against Tadashi's face, stroking the soft skin with his thumb. "I would never let you get hurt."

"How do I know you mean that? A lot of people promised me everything would be alright and I'm always telling my little brother that 'everything will be alright' and it's not. It's not-"

He turns his head and squeezes his eyes shut; they're wet and red with fear.

"Sorry."

"Hush."

He holds Tadashi like that, for some time, dragging his fingertips along smooth flesh.

"You'll stay the night," Robert confirms one last time.

Tadashi nods.

"I'll stay the night."

He listens to the familiar silence and waits for the change in Tadashi's breathes—shaky breathes that turn to evenly paced ones after enough time. Robert follow, eventually, yearning for everything to somehow fall back into place.

Lmao so um, this was originally supposed to be a lot deeper and more angsty than I intended but instead it just turned into lots of buildup that lead to smut. So fuck this because Robert Callaghan is a fucking dick and he let Tadashi die. Also, fuck me for writing Robert as an empathetic person who promises not to hurt Tadashi because he did hurt Tadashi. In fact, Tadashi is quite dead because of him.

But I really wanted to write Calladashi so aw welp. I still acknowledge that Callaghan is literally the worst but I thought I'd focus on the normal part of him that interacts with Tadashi before he goes ape shit.

I'm shamelessly using a Lana del Ray song as the title of this fic because her music is all about banging older dudes. My god, have you seen her music videos? The expiration dates of her sugar daddies just keeps dwindling.