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I sat on my desk to maintain a sense that he was talking to a friend. I wanted him to view me as such. I wanted to ask him so much, but his body language told me he was on the edge of possibly falling apart again.
“It’s late, Professor Grant. I need to get going. I’m sorry about today and about Quincy.”
Justin left my office, closing my door quietly behind him. I sighed, but I felt our day ended on a positive note. After finishing up the last few tasks of my day, I put my jacket on, locked the office, and headed to the faculty parking lot. As I walked, I let the inappropriate thoughts of Justin push out the concerned thoughts. Justin had perfect cock-sucking lips. He had lips and a mouth that beg to be fucked. And I could look into those eyes while I dumped load after load down his throat. I could reciprocate, of course.
My cock was uncomfortably hard by the time I reached the parking lot. I was eager to get home and jack off to filthy, hot, and erotic fantasies of the things I could do to Justin. When I reached my SUV, I glanced in the direction of the main street where some men were yelling. About fifteen yards away, I spotted a familiar bright blue backpack acting as a shelter from the light rain. Justin stood toward the back of a long line of students and campus employees who were trying to make it on the bus. Some were vocally agitated about having to wait in the rain and people taking their time to get on the bus.
The lights were on inside the bus and it looked jam packed. I was sure there weren’t any seats left, and even if there were, Justin was too far back in the line to get one. Just as I’d expected, the bus driver stopped more people from getting on. Most of the people at the bus stop had umbrellas or at least jackets or sweatshirts with hoods. Justin stood in a short-sleeved t-shirt holding his backpack over his head. A few men toward the front of the line who were turned away threw bottles of water at the bus as it pulled away from the curb. Another student toward the back of the line yelled at the men who threw the bottles. Justin stood between the angry people. I had an opportunity to pull him out of this situation.
“Justin!” I yelled.
When he looked around, I held my hands up and waved my arms so he’d see me. He waved back as if he were saying goodnight and that he’d see me tomorrow. I gestured for him to come over. He hesitated and looked at the long line of people behind him. I thought he was afraid to get out of the line and lose his spot. Still holding his backpack over his head, he jogged over.
“Let me give you a ride home.”
“Are you sure? It’s about a half hour from here to Hawthorne.”
Hawthorne wasn’t a great area.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s raining, and you’ve already stayed late. Besides, you’re wet and don’t have a jacket on.”
As thunder rumbled in the distance, Justin nodded and got into my SUV. I adjusted the heat and turned on his seat warmer before opening the GPS on the screen. I entered his address as he rattled it off to me. Before I pulled out of the parking spot, the rain began to pour down.
“Wow,” Justin said as the rain pelted the windows. “Thank you for the ride.”
“It’s not a problem. I’m sorry you ended up staying on campus longer than you intended. Will you have missed dinner?”
“They always save something for me when I’m late getting home.”
I’ll take that as a yes.
Since I had at least a half hour with him, I decided to be nosey and ask him about his sister. He had brought her up previously, so I didn’t take it as an off-limits conversation. I’d tread carefully, especially since he’d mentioned she hadn’t been doing well.
“How old was your sister when she was diagnosed with Batten?”
“I think she was three or so. She had poor vision and had to have really thick glasses. My parents knew something was wrong because it kept getting worse. They kept trying to get a doctor who could help. They would have to arrange to travel to the bigger cities back home.”
Good, he brought up “back home.”
“Where are you originally from?” I asked. I’d been curious about his origins ever since I’d heard him speak for the first time.
“Lithuania. We came to the U.S. five years ago, mainly for the chance of better medical care for my sister, Rami.”
I loved his slight accent.
“My real name is Justinas. But when we came to America to go to high school, my brother and I shortened our names to fit in better. I became Justin, and my brother, Dominykas, became Nic.”
“Some culture shock when you got here?”
“Yes, but it has been a good move.”
“Has the care been better for your sister?”
“Definitely. She’s on a trial medication now that’s supposed to slow or delay the loss of her ability to walk. She’s thirteen now and already can’t walk without us helping her.”
So sad. Thirteen.
“Do you guys have anyone come to the house to help with the care?”
