off, followed by a slight shrug, leaving the invitation and much more, lingering in the air.

“Sure,” I said quietly. This was insane. I knew it was insane, but damned if I could even begin to resist getting to know this man more.

I followed Miguel to a small coffeeshop in the Student Center and we spent the next two hours talking about art, artists, and ourselves. I found out he was thirty-three and single, much to my delight. But there was never any mention of sexual preference. I was beginning to think maybe I was chasing a white rabbit with this one, but then he fell silent for several minutes.

“You want to come over to my place?” he asked me quietly. “Maybe I could help you with picking art back up.” The look in his eyes was hopeful and I nodded slowly.

“I’d like that.”

We continued on in companionable silence, and before I realized it, we'd left the campus, or at least the main part of it. I followed Miguel toward an apartment building just off-campus. It was where a lot of the married students--and apparently, some instructors--lived. We went up to the second floor and stopped at #23. Miguel fished his key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, then stepped aside, waving me in and smiling.

"Wow, nice," I said as I walked into his home.

It was immaculately clean, to the point where I really wondered if the man lived here at all. Black leather couch, black leather recliner, glass and black lacquer coffee table, matching endtable and entertainment center. Damn. It made my own apartment look...lackluster.

Miguel tossed his keys onto the bar separating the kitchen from the rest of the open room that was the living room and dining room combined. "You want something to drink?"

I turned and shook my head. "Tell me we're here for the same thing..."

He just smiled, took my books and set them to the side, then stepped closer. "If not, stop me now."

Like hell I would. I grabbed the back of his neck and our lips met, tongues fighting for control as I pinned him back against the door. Miguel gave as good as he got, fingers digging into my shoulders as he pushed one knee between my thighs, giving me some good friction. I groaned and rocked, cock hard and grinding over his thigh muscle. Miguel pulled back, eyes wide, breath panting.

"Rubbers. Lube. Coffee table drawer."

"Uh huh."

I stepped back and tugged him with me. "Get naked," I said as I found the necessities. By the time I turned around, Miguel was completely naked. All I could do was stare.

One hand lowered, Miguel stroking his dark caramel cock. I licked my lips, drawn to that beautiful body like a moth to a flame. I'd had every intention of fucking him, but seeing that gorgeous prick, I wanted it in me. I wanted to see, wanted to watch the contrast of my pale skin and his dark, wanted to watch him slide into me, over and over.

"Fuck me."

Miguel smiled and took the rubber and lube from me, then nodded. "I'm waiting."

Swallowing, I started stripping, never once looking away from those mesmerizing blue eyes. When I was naked, I backed up and sat on the couch. I ignored the way I sort of stuck to the leather; I was too focused on the hands unrolling a rubber