48. Bohdi

Chapter forty-eight

Bohdi

A fter my chat with Cash, I realized I need to make a move. Teaching while being in love with Bray isn't sustainable. He's not any student; he means everything to me. Until he graduates, I'll keep things low-key for his sake, but I can't keep up this act. Those classes I teach him? They're a struggle—I want to treat him differently, but I can't.

He's the love of my fucking life.

Plus, do you know how hard it is to teach him, knowing what it feels like to have his tight ass wrapped around my dick? It's increasingly distracting. I'm tired of constantly adjusting myself, wearing my blazer as armor during lectures.

Last night, Brayden stayed over at my place, along with Cash and Rylee. We gathered around the table, ordered takeout, and Face Timed Bridget. Laughter filled the room as we reminisced about Jace and Bex. Rylee clung to Brayden, tears flowing freely. In those moments, it hit me—I want Brayden to be more than a secret. I want him to be part of my life, part of my family. Last night's glimpse of what could be confirmed my decision.

It's always going to be Brayden.

That's why I'm now standing outside his dorm room door, the number 13 biggest fan hap on my head pulled down low and a sweater on, with the hood pulled up. I need to tell him what I'm going to do.

I don't bother knocking. I know Cope has already left as I see him on my way up, to which he looked at me funny.

"Bra—" I halt my step as I open the door and see Brayden sitting on his bed, but that's not what's shocked me. It's Lance sitting next to him.

"What the fuck?" I growl. Brayden's eyes widen as they move from me to Lance. Lance eyes squint up at me, taking me in and then he looks at Brayden wide-eyed.

"Get the fuck out!" I snap. Lance looks at me like I've grown an extra head, but I don't care. I'm not thinking rationally right now. All I see is Brayden's ex fuck buddy sitting on his fucking bed.

"Get the fuck out, or I will drag you out myself." Lance's eyes open wide as he grabs his coat and bag and darts past me. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath before Brayden is in my face.

"You fucked up. You really fucked up," he spits.

"I fucked up? What the fuck are you doing with your ex fuck buddy sitting on your bed with you?" I grit, feeling my resolve about to snap like an overused elastic band.

"If you'd asked instead of going all caveman, I'd have explained. I invited Lan here to tell him I've met someone—someone I love. Lan has texted me a few times, and I never replied. I thought I owed it to him to clarify that I'm no longer available." Brayden runs his hands through his hair.

"He definitely knows who I've fallen for now." His gaze sweeps over me, head shaking. "This is totally fucked up. Shit, I need to go after him."

I grab Brayden's arm. "I'm resigning." Brayden freezes, staring up at me wide-eyed.

"You're what?"

"I'm resigning from this job."

"What why?"

"Because I chose you."

"No, no, you can't do this. This is your job, your livelihood."

"There are countless other jobs out there," I say, my voice trembling with emotion. "But what I want is a life with you, a real life. I want to wake up beside you every morning, share laughter, and proudly show the world that you're mine. No more hiding."

Brayden's expression shifts from shock to uncertainty. "I don't know what to say, Boh."

"Just tell me you support my decision," I plead. "Today, right now."

His eyes search mine, pleading. "If it means having you in every way possible, then yes," he says softly. "But promise me this is for you, not just for us."

"It is," I assure him, my heart pounding. "For my happiness, for our future." I lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "I have one more class, and then I'm heading to the dean." Brayden nods, excitement lighting up his face. He leans in for another kiss, but I pull back.

"I want you out of this dorm. I'm sick of guys being around you. It pisses me off. You're moving in with me." Brayden's mouth drops open. "See you in class." I smirk, and with that I walk out of Brayden's form, ready to teach my final lesson.

Glancing around the class, I realize that this is a bittersweet moment. Although I haven't taught here that long, it will be sad to not see the final presentations or see how well they do. Especially Brayden's. I know already I'm going to help him with every step toward his goals, whether that is the rehab center, or his hockey future. I'm going to be by his side, supporting him every step of the way.

My eyes immediately find Brayden as everyone settles down. His smile beams down at me and I know with everything, the way he looks at me, the butterflies that take off with every smile he throws my way, this decision is by far the right one.

Kal sits beside him, typing away on his phone, but the seat to his right is empty. Tray's transfer to another class was necessary. His resentment toward Daxton weighed heavily on him. Every time they shared a classroom, Tray's actions spoke louder than words, whether it was a shove, a trip, or even hurling hate at Daxton. I couldn't bear to watch Daxton crumble a little more with each blow.

So, I took Tray aside and had pulled him up on it. I explained that Daxton wasn't to blame, but Tray's hatred and grief had blinded him. Tray's removal from the class became the only option.

Daxton, surprisingly, never reported Tray's behavior. I offered my support if he wanted to, but he'd just nod and say he deserved it. Each time he uttered those words, it struck me. Now, Daxton sits at the front, lost in his own world, paying no attention to anything beyond that spot on the table.

"All right, everyone. Today, I'd love to hear about your projects. I would like a few of you to come up and share what you've chosen and why. Let's discuss our work—maybe we'll even spark ideas and support each other. So"—I clap my hands, scanning the students—"who wants to go first?"

Matilda's hand shoots up, and it doesn't surprise me.

"The stage is yours, Matilda," I say, stepping aside. She eagerly jumps up from her desk, bouncing on her tiptoes as she faces the front. Matilda proceeds to tell the class about her nonprofit veterinary and animal shelter for homeless animals. She envisions a team scouring the streets of Michigan, providing urgent care and rehabilitation for these vulnerable animals. Her passion shines through—words tumbling out, voice rising with excitement. It warms my heart because this is what it's all about.

Goosebumps prickle my arms, and my heart races. I can practically feel Brayden's eyes searing into my skin. When I steal a glance at him, he's already grinning. Kal, on the other hand, shoots me a look, then shifts his gaze to Brayden, rolling his eyes and shaking his head. Kal has warmed up to me, but he's still a broody ass boy.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I ignore it, trying to focus on Matilda's ongoing talk. But the damn thing vibrates again. Frowning, I pull it out, glancing at the screen, and nearly drop it. Clearing my throat, I place the phone on my lap. My eyes lock onto Brayden. He stares straight ahead, a model A class student.

I gulp as my dick hardens. I glance back at the screen.

B:

I know how much you love having pictures of me, so I took this for you last night.

There, on the screen, is Brayden's dick, swollen with the tip shining with pre-cum and all I want to do is lick it. Brayden's large hand wrapped around the bottom, as the veins bulge like they're about to burst. My balls tingle as I stare at it and my mouth waters and then I nearly drop my phone when the class erupts into claps. I clear my throat, clapping and smiling at Matilda, telling her thank you. As the silence lingers, I understand why no one volunteers to share their presentation. It's nerve-racking to stand before your peers and present something entirely of your own making.

"All right," I say, trying to ease the tension. "If no one wants to share, that's perfectly fine." I know Brayden isn't ready, and I don't blame him. Heads remain down, avoiding eye contact with me.

"OK, OK." I chuckle. "In that case, you can either stay here and do more research, or I'm happy to end class early."

The room erupts into motion. Chairs squeak against the floor. Hushed voices fill the air.

"Take care, everyone." I smile, realizing this is the end. No more teaching. Daxton grabs his bag and stands up. "Hey, Daxton." I pause, meeting his dark-rimmed eyes.

"Please take care of yourself," I tell him, my voice gentle. "And remember, none of this is your fault—none." He nods, shoulders slumped.

"See ya," he mumbles, navigating through the classroom as people rush past him. He allows himself to collide with the wall, as if he doesn't even feel it.

I spot Brayden descending the stairs. "See you around, sir!" he calls out, saluting me with a wink.

"Actually," I say, "I need you to stay behind."

"Damn," Brayden sarcastically exclaims. Kal bursts into laughter as his fists-bumps Brayden before raising his hand to me. As I push a chair against the door, I notice Brayden's hooded eyes follow my every move.

"You think that was funny what you just did?" I pace toward him, grabbing his hands, and rub it over my trousers, so he can feel how hard I am for him right now.

"It got the response I wanted."

"You were already skating on thin ice but after earlier, having another boy in your dorm room when I'm not there. Tsk-tsk. Now Brayden, you are skating on shattered ice." I smile

"You best get over on that desk. I want your pants down and your ass fucking up," I growl. Brayden's eyes dilate and he gulps, pacing over to the desk. He hesitantly drops his jogging pants and then his boxers. He leans over the table as a small moan breaks through, probably from his dick rubbing against the desk. I walk up behind him, undoing my belt and pulling my dick out.

"This is going to be rough and quick." I gather spit in my mouth and let it dribble on to his puckered hole while rubbing the head of my dick against it. His reaction causes his hole to pulsate, so I apply more spit to my dick and continue to rub it all around his opening.

"Bohdi."

"When we're in the classroom, it's ‘Sir,' Brayden."

"Fuck," Brayden moans. "Sir, spit isn't going to be enough."

I laugh. "It's gonna have to be."

Slowly, I push in and pull out, adding more spit. I do this two or three times, adding more each time until my mouth becomes dry. I bring my hand around to the front of a trembling Brayden.

"Spit." I cup my hand out in front of him as he spits in my hands. I slather my dick with it and then I slide myself in. Brayden's throaty moan sends shivers down my spine.

"Shit, sir," Brayden moans through gasps.

"I know you can take it, baby. Let me stretch this tight little hole."

Brayden's hands claw the desk as I push myself in, watching the saliva collect in my pubes.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I slowly rotate my hips inside him, which has him trembling and his legs kicking out as I swipe over his prostate.

"Ohmyfuckinggosh."

I get my camera open and move in and out of him slowly. The flash goes off multiple times as I take more pictures.

"What are you doing?" Brayden rasps.

"Now I have some pictures that I can send you when you think about talking to another guy when I'm not there. Call them little reminders of who owns every single inch of you."

I lean over Brayden, pushing myself in deeper as he chokes on the air, struggling to inhale. "Breathe, Brayden." I place a gentle kiss along the shell of his ear, just the way he likes it. His arms scatter in goosebumps and moans filter through his lips.

"See?" I bring my phone up in front of him, his hazy eyes meet the screen. Licking his earlobe and biting it between my teeth, he gasps, his eyes not moving from the screen as I slide along each picture, I took of me sliding in inch by inch.

"Be sure to remember how fucking perfect we look connected, Brayden." Slamming the phone down on the desk, I stand up, snapping my hips into his tight ass. His loud moans, which I love, echo through the hall as I get faster.

"Sir, fuck. Fuck. Yes, I want it. Give it to me, please." My spine tingles and my balls become heavy.

"Shit." I pull out.

"Turn around," I snap to Brayden who stands on wobbly legs as he turns and I push him down on the desk. His legs coming up and wrapping around my waist as I pump my dick with my hand. I push his sweater up and paint his bare abs with my cum. Brayden lies there moaning with every squirt and my release must bring on his release as he tenses, his hands clawing my arms as his dick pulses with mine.

"The prettiest canvas I've ever seen," I pant as I stare down at mine and Brayden's cum mixed on his abs. I don't know what primal beast takes over me, but I lean down, trailing my tongue over his abs, collecting our mixed cum in my mouth as I lean over Brayden, kissing him and pushing my tongue into his mouth.

"Be sure to remember how fucking amazing we taste together, too." I smile.

"I won't be forgetting that anytime soon," Bray pants as he licks his lips. Glancing down at his abs. I whip my shirt off, knowing I have a spare one in the draw, and wipe away our cum.

"I won't lie. I was kinda tempted to make you walk around with us drying on you all day. But the thought of anyone smelling you makes me feel quite sick, so it's best we remove this."

Brayden shakes his head, laughter dancing in his eyes. "You've officially lost it," he teases, leaning up as I finish and pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. "But I wouldn't have you any other way." His smile warms me, and as he leans back, his gaze lands on my chest. His hand brushes up, tracing my most recent tattoo.

"I've never paid enough attention to your tattoos up close, but this one is beautiful," Brayden says. I glance down as his fingers brush over the large lion portrait inked on my chest. "The eyes are so blue." He looks back up at me. "Does it mean anything?"

I nod, smiling. "Yeah, it's for Jace." Brayden smiles. "Jace was a strong character. He held everyone's attention when he walked into a room, but not in a cocky way, just in a way that everyone loved him. He oozed power and loyalty. He reminds me he's always there, carrying me through everything. He's my courage to confront agony, pain, danger, anything that comes my way. He's my strength in pain and grief. Just like you are." I smile, pressing a kiss to Brayden's lips.

"That's beautiful."

I place a gentle kiss on his head and step back so he can clean the rest of him and sort himself out. I tuck my dick in, putting my blazer on and take a deep breath.

"Well, at least you're leaving with a bang." Brayden smirks, and I already know what's coming. "Quite literally."

I roll my eyes, while shaking my head and laughing, "That was such a Tray line."

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Never been surer in my life." I press a kiss to Brayden's lips. "I'll see you at home." Brayden frowns and I wink as I walk out of the classroom heading straight for the dean's office.

I knock on his door, the echo of my knuckles reverberating through the room. His deep voice. usually steady and authoritative, booms, instructing me to come in. As I push the door open, dread floods through my veins. Before me stands a man on the brink of collapse, stress etching lines into his face. But it's not him who shatters my composure; it's Denny, standing at his side. Devastation mars his features.

"Please tell me it's not true." Denny's voice cracks, desperation clinging to each syllable. At that moment, I realize I've missed my chance. I should have spoken up earlier, but I wanted to be the one to explain everything—to soften the blow.

"Den, I—" I begin, but Richard, the dean, cuts me off sharply.

"Sit down, Bohdi," he commands, his tone leaving no room for argument. I comply, sinking into the chair as the door clicks shut behind me.

"Tell me," Richard demands, leaning forward, "why are you here?"

I meet Denny's gaze, his brows furrowing. His eyes silently plead with me to deny whatever rumors he's heard, to assure him it's all false.

"I think you know," I reply, my voice unwavering.

Richard slams his hand on the desk, frustration boiling over. "Ah, shit," he mutters.

Denny pulls at the strands of his hair. "I won't believe it. He's your student. My player. He's Nineteen!" Panic twists his features.

"Den, please listen," I implore.

"I will," Denny says, desperation thickening the air, "if you tell me it's not true. Tell me, Bohdi, that you're not currently in a relationship with Brayden Anders."

My shoulders sag, and my head drops. There's no way I can lie. I'm not ashamed, but I need Denny to hear me out.

"Richard, Denny," I declare, my chin raised, "I'm in a relationship with Brayden Anders, and I love him." Both men gasp. "And I resign."

Denny's face reddens, his hands clenching. He strides around the desk, our faces inches apart. "You make me sick," he spits, storming out of the office. The door slams with such force that the room trembles.

My gaze shifts to Richard. "We need to talk."

Three hours later, I trudge through my front door, tossing my keys onto the side table. Exhaustion clings to me like a heavy cloak as I survey the living room, now filled with Brayden's belongings. He walks out of our bedroom, eyes wide with anticipation.

"Boh," he breathes.

"It's done," I reply, my voice weary.

"What happened?" Brayden paces toward me, pulling me into a tight hug.

"Can I just hold you on the couch for a while?" I ask. Brayden glances back, concern etching his face. He nods, guiding me over to the couch.

We lie there in silence, the weight of the moment pressing down. Brayden rests his head on my chest, and I absentmindedly play with his hair, my gaze fixed on the blank white wall. The relief of completion mingles with regret over how it unfolded.

"Lance told the dean before I got there," I murmur to Brayden, whose head snaps up.

"What?" he gasps.

I chuckle. "Yep, he mentioned a student stepping forward today. I assume it was Lance, given our earlier encounter."

"That fucking prick. Wait until I see him."

"Don't." I shake my head. "It's done. I was going to tell the dean and then see Denny, but Denny was already there when I arrived." Brayden's eyes widen.

"You're good. I've squared it with the dean, but I doubt Denny will be speaking to me anytime soon."

"So, what happened? What did they say?"

I sigh, pulling him close. "I really want to savor our first official night together. Can we discuss it tomorrow? Just know that nothing will affect you."

"OK," Brayden whispers, but then he sits up, raising an eyebrow. "But you do know you're supposed to ask me to move in, not just arrange for removals. I thought I'd been robbed when I got back to my dorm."

"What are you talking about? I told you earlier."

"When?" His eyes scan the room, as if trying to recall when I mentioned it. I sit up, heading to the kitchen for a bottle of water. "I said you're moving in with me." I grab the bottle, smiling.

"Sweet Jesus." Brayden's head flops back against the couch. "I didn't think you meant today." He laughs, shaking his head. Then he leans to the side. Those ocean-blue eyes—capable of reducing me to a puddle—lock onto mine.

"You really do love me, don't you?" he asks.

Walking over, I plant a kiss on his forehead and crouch down to be eye level with him.

"Brayden Quake Anders, love doesn't even begin to describe what I feel for you. There isn't a word invented that captures it. But here's the thing: no one else on this earth can test your patience and make you smile simultaneously like I can. I promise you, for as long as I live, I'll bring a smile to your face on the worst days. Some days, Bray, you'll be out there on the ice, sinking pucks and laughing with your team. Other days, it'll hurt just to open your eyes."

"But know this," I continue, my voice steady. "I've got you on both days."