Page 5 of Learn Your Limits
Chapter five
Reid
Marking papers.Why does the thought of Milo potentially being one of my professors have heat coursing through my body? The odds of that happening seem slim, but that doesn’t stop my mind from running wild with the idea. I don’t even know what he teaches or where. He could be a primary-level educator for all I know. Maybe we’ll end up being co-workers someday. And there I go again, getting way too ahead of myself.
CallMeCal:This is my last year in my program and I guess I’m just starting to feel like it’s time to grow up. Spending each night with someone new has sorta lost its appeal. I wanna find my person.
I should probably quit while I’m ahead and call it a night. I have no reason to get up early tomorrow morning and don’t necessarily need to go to bed. But being in the apartment by myself at this late hour, talking to a man who may or may not end up being one of my professors for the upcoming semester, feels like both the worst and best thing I’ve done in a long time.Something about the way he talks to me, about his ease with words, makes me feel comfortable. Like I could open up to him and he wouldn’t judge me.
And if he did? Well, that’s where the protection of my anonymity comes into play.
His last two messages have piqued my interest, and part of me wants to show him just howbadI can get. I only hope that I’m not reading him wrong.
Time to turn up the heat, Milo.
I shift on the bed, laying back more to stretch out my body. My gray joggers are slung low on my hips, the top of my black boxer briefs visible as I rest my hand near my groin, thumb hooked into the waistband. I tug the material down ever so slightly, ensuring the cut lines of my abdomen are on display as I hold my phone out with the other hand and snap a picture. I'm keeping my face out of it for now, but the rest of my body is visible for his viewing pleasure.
That's assuming he'll even like what he sees. My muscles are defined but not overly so. I have no desire to look like some roided-out gym bro, but I do take pride in my body and want my partner to enjoy it as well.
I inhale slowly and give myself a moment to breathe, willing my heart and body to calm the fuck down before I type out my next message.
CallMeCal:Well, Milo, how bad do you want me?
Tugging my bottom lip between my teeth, I send the picture I just took. My heart hammers in my chest, cock thickening at the idea of him sitting there with a glass of wine as he stares at my photo.
And that's when I realize that my last message could be interpreted in more than one way. How badly does he want me and just how bad does he want me to be?
His replies come through quickly, and I don't bother to suppress a groan as I read them.
JustMilo:Am I expected to respond to this picture with anything other than adoration and thinly-veiled arousal?
JustMilo:Propriety would tell me you’re way too young for me, Cal. A young thing like you shouldn’t be so interested in someone fourteen years older than you.
JustMilo:Or does my age turn you on, Muñeco?
Thinly-veiled arousal.
I’m pretty sure he just confessed that I’m turning him on, or at least my body is. The fourteen year age gap between us hasn’t really crossed my mind. Not until he just called attention to it. Does it turn me on? If I’m being honest with myself, I think it does. But it’s not just the idea of him being so much older; it’shim.His dark brown hair with wisps of gray near his temples, the neatly trimmed beard that has just a touch more gray in it, and his stormy green eyes are what initially caught my attention.
But it’s the eloquent way he speaks that has me feeling absolutely captivated.
Muñeco. What does that mean?Please let it be some kind of term of endearment.
I swipe out of our chat window and quickly open up my web browser, typing the foreign word in for translation.
Doll.
Well, damn. If I wasn’t already swooning over this man, I definitely am now. I slip my hand beneath the material of my pants and palm my embarrassingly hard cock through mybriefs, tilting my head back and letting my eyes fall shut. It’s ridiculous how worked up he has me through words alone. Once the electric buzz beneath my skin has calmed and the heat has lowered to a simmer, I pull my hand out and reach for my phone.
CallMeCal:I think the proper thing to do would be to respond with a photo. I showed you mine. Now show me yours *wink emoji*
CallMeCal:Fuck propriety. What if the fact that you’re more experienced than I am turns me on?
CallMeCal:You said you read, Milo. Ever heard of the age-gap trope?
I heave a sigh and cover my face with a hand, shaking my head in exasperation. Did I really just ask if he’s ever heard of the age-gap trope? Where the heck is the “unsend” option when you need it?
JustMilo:You’re a cheeky little thing, but you’ve asked nicely, so I guess it would be rude of me not to comply.
