Sebastian POV
The advance reading list had been a small thing, easily justifiable in the warm glow of his love for Ethan. A trifle, really, for someone so dedicated. But as the weeks passed, Ethan's requests, always framed with an irresistible blend of academic ambition and lover's intimacy, began to subtly escalate. He'd ask about the likely thematic focus of upcoming seminars, his head resting on Sebastian's chest, his voice a soft murmur, "just so I can direct my preliminary reading more effectively, darling." Or he'd wonder aloud, with a charmingly furrowed brow as they shared a pot of tea, about the kinds of arguments that might impress a particular visiting lecturer, "because your guidance is always so spot-on, Sebastian, you understand these things so much better than I do."
Each request was a tiny pinprick to Sebastian's conscience, a small, almost imperceptible tear in the fabric of his professional integrity. He was a scholar, a man who had, until recently, prided himself on his fairness, his impartiality. Yet, his desire to see Ethan shine, to be the source of his beloved's success, was a powerful opiate, dulling the sharp edges of his ethical concerns. He found himself rationalising, telling himself that he wasn't giving Ethan answers, merely… guiding his intellectual curiosity. He was helping a brilliant mind reach its full potential. And wasn't that what a mentor, what a lover, should do?
But the justifications felt increasingly thin, like worn patches on an old coat. He started to feel a persistent, low-level anxiety, a sense of walking a tightrope over a chasm of professional misconduct. He'd catch himself glancing over his shoulder in the library, a sudden fear gripping him if another colleague approached while he was in quiet conversation with Ethan, their heads bent together over a book. His sleep became more troubled, punctuated by vague dreams of exposure and ruin, of stern faces and accusing voices.
***
Ethan POV
Ethan watched Sebastian's internal struggle with a detached amusement. The Professor's guilt, the slight tremor in his hand as he passed over a hinted seminar topic, the way his eyes would avoid Ethan's for a moment after conceding a point – these were all useful tools, further vulnerabilities to be exploited. Each small concession, each boundary crossed, made the next one easier for Sebastian to grant. Ethan was like a patient angler, slowly, expertly reeling in his catch, giving just enough line, then gently tugging again.
He was careful not to push too hard, too fast. His requests were always couched in terms of academic striving, of his deep desire to learn and excel, all for Sebastian's approval. He'd follow each successful "favour" with an outpouring of affection – a passionate embrace in the privacy of Sebastian's rooms, a whispered "you're my everything" that would soothe Sebastian's frayed nerves and reinforce the intoxicating link between professional compromise and emotional reward.
He also began, discreetly, to document their interactions. Not everything, not yet. But significant conversations, particularly those where Sebastian offered specific academic advantages, were noted down in a coded journal on his laptop. He saved copies of emails where Sebastian had offered "a few preliminary thoughts" on an essay topic that bore a striking resemblance to an upcoming assignment. It was all about building a portfolio, an insurance policy. One never knew when such things might become… useful. He recalled his father's bitter regret at having no proof of promises broken by academic superiors; Ethan would not be so naive.
***
Sebastian POV
The whispers started subtly, like the rustle of dry leaves in an autumn wind. A raised eyebrow from a fellow tutor when Ethan, in a seminar, produced a surprisingly sophisticated analysis that seemed to anticipate the direction of the discussion. A pointed question from a student after a lecture, "Professor, how does Blackwood already seem to know so much about the more obscure texts on the supplementary list? He mentioned reading them weeks ago."
Sebastian would brush these off, his face warming slightly, feigning ignorance or attributing Ethan's prowess to sheer brilliance. "Mr. Blackwood is exceptionally diligent," he'd say, his voice perhaps a little too hearty. But each comment was another twist of the knife in his own gut. He saw the resentment in some of the other DPhil candidates' eyes, the dawning suspicion. His relationship with Ethan, so precious and private, was beginning to cast a shadow on his professional life, a shadow he was desperate to ignore.
One afternoon, Dr. Marsh, a senior colleague in the English faculty known for her sharp intellect and even sharper tongue, stopped Sebastian in the Senior Common Room. Helena Marsh was not a close friend, but Sebastian had always respected her formidable mind and her unwavering, if sometimes uncomfortable, honesty.
Her direct warnings about Ethan's unusually rapid rise and seemingly effortless grasp of complex topics had, until now, been easy for Sebastian to dismiss as professional jealousy or an overactive imagination, especially when relayed with her characteristic bluntness. Sebastian, lost in the fog of his affection for Ethan, had found it simple to attribute her concerns to a lack of understanding of Ethan's "unique brilliance."
"Sebastian," she said, her gaze unwavering, her teacup held firmly, "young Blackwood is certainly making a name for himself. Remarkably quickly, wouldn't you say? Almost… preternaturally so."
Sebastian felt a flush creep up his neck. "Ethan is an exceptionally gifted student, Helena. Dedicated."
"Dedicated, yes," Dr. Marsh mused, tapping a pen against her chin. "Or perhaps just exceptionally well… informed. Some of the other students are beginning to wonder if he has a particularly insightful muse."
Her words, though not directly accusatory, hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Sebastian mumbled a noncommittal reply and made his escape, his heart pounding. The encounter left him shaken. Helena was no fool.
That evening, he tried to express his unease to Ethan. "Perhaps… perhaps we should be more careful," he began tentatively, as they lay tangled together in his bed, the scent of their intimacy still clinging to the air. "People are starting to notice your… progress. Helena Marsh said something today."
Ethan turned to him, his eyes wide with an innocence that Sebastian, in his compromised state, found utterly convincing, a stark contrast to the knowing glint he sometimes saw there. "My progress? Sebastian, darling, any progress I make is because of you. Your inspiration, your guidance." His voice took on a wounded tone. "Are you ashamed of that? Ashamed of me?" A subtle tremor entered his voice, his lower lip quivering almost imperceptibly.
Instantly, Sebastian was consumed with remorse. "No! No, of course not, my love," he stammered, pulling Ethan closer, his own anxieties dissolving in the face of Ethan's apparent hurt. "Never. I'm so proud of you. It's just… I worry. About us. About… appearances."
Ethan snuggled closer, his head resting gently on Sebastian's chest. The warmth of Ethan's body seeped into Sebastian, easing the tension in his muscles. A soft sigh of contentment escaped Ethan's lips, his breath warm against Sebastian's skin. "Then we'll just have to be more discreet, won't we?" he murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble. The words, though laced with caution, carried a promise—a promise of continued closeness, of secret moments shared between them.
Sebastian felt the weight of Ethan's head, a comforting pressure that anchored him in the moment. "Our secret is precious," Ethan continued, his fingers tracing idle patterns on Sebastian's skin, sending waves of heat through his body. "We can't let petty jealousies tarnish it."
Ethan's lips found Sebastian's neck, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against the sensitive skin. Sebastian's eyes fluttered shut as the kiss sent shivers down his spine, each touch a spark that ignited a familiar, intoxicating warmth. The slow, deliberate movement of Ethan's lips against his neck melted away Sebastian's anxieties, replacing them with a sense of peace and belonging.
As Ethan's kiss deepened slightly, Sebastian felt his heartbeat quicken, matching the rhythm of Ethan's own. The touch of Ethan's lips was tender yet filled with unspoken desire, a silent language that only they understood. Sebastian's hand moved instinctively to cradle the back of Ethan's head, his fingers tangling in the soft strands of hair, pulling him just a little closer.
In that moment, wrapped in the cocoon of their shared embrace, Sebastian's fears and uncertainties dissolved into the warmth and security of Ethan's affection. The outside world with its judgments and expectations faded away, leaving only the two of them in their private sanctuary.
***
Ethan POV
The conversation with Dr. Marsh, which Sebastian recounted with a worried frown, was a minor irritant, but also a signal. It was time to escalate, to bind Sebastian even more tightly to him before outside scrutiny became a genuine threat. He needed a bigger favour, something that would cross a more significant ethical line, something that would make Sebastian truly complicit.
A few days later, feigning a crisis of confidence over an upcoming departmental review of DPhil progress, Ethan made his move. He found Sebastian in his rooms, looking tired and preoccupied. Ethan let his own shoulders slump, his face a mask of carefully manufactured despair. "Sebastian," he said, his voice laced with anxiety, "I'm terrified I'm going to make a fool of myself at the review. The panel can be so brutal. Professor Davies, especially. If only I had some idea of the kinds of questions they focus on, the specific areas they'll probe…" He looked at Sebastian, his eyes wide and pleading, a picture of youthful insecurity. "You were on the review panel last year, weren't you? You must remember… something."
He paused, then added, as if an afterthought, his voice dropping to a near whisper, "There are those restricted archives in the department library… the ones with past review notes and sample student submissions. If I could just glance at them, just for an hour… it would make all the difference. Please, Sebastian? For me? I can't bear the thought of failing you."
***
Sebastian POV
Sebastian stared at Ethan, his blood running cold. The departmental archives contained confidential student records, internal assessment notes – accessing them for personal advantage was a serious breach of university policy, a fireable offence. This wasn't like sharing a draft reading list or discussing seminar themes. This was a different magnitude of transgression. His breath caught in his throat.
He opened his mouth to refuse, to explain how impossible, how dangerous, such a request was. The words no, Ethan, I can't formed in his mind. But then he looked at Ethan's face, at the desperate hope in his eyes, the implicit trust that Sebastian, his Sebastian, would help him. He thought of Ethan's brilliance, his ambition, and the crushing fear of failure that even the most gifted students sometimes experienced. He thought of their love, their secret world, the joy Ethan had brought into his desolate life. Could he deny him this? Could he risk that adoring light in Ethan's eyes dimming, being replaced by disappointment?
The internal battle was brief, but fierce. His professional ethics, his fear of exposure, his ingrained sense of propriety – all warring against the overwhelming desire to protect Ethan, to ensure his success, to keep that adoring light shining in his eyes. The image of Ethan failing, of Ethan looking at him with reproach, was unbearable.
With a sigh that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul, a sigh that felt like a surrender, Sebastian heard himself say, "The archives are usually locked. But I… I have a key. For research purposes, of course." He avoided Ethan's gaze, a profound sense of shame washing over him, hot and suffocating. "Meet me at the departmental library tonight, after it closes. I'll let you in. But Ethan… you must be incredibly discreet. No one can know."
Ethan's face lit up with a radiant smile, the transformation instantaneous and dazzling. He threw his arms around Sebastian, kissing him with a fervour that left Sebastian breathless and momentarily forgetful of the abyss he was stepping into. "Thank you, Sebastian! Thank you! I knew I could count on you. You're my saviour."
As Ethan held him, his body warm and vibrant against Sebastian's, Sebastian felt a chilling premonition, a sense that he had just stepped off a precipice from which there would be no return. But the warmth of Ethan's embrace, the intoxicating scent of his skin, the triumphant joy in his voice – it was enough, for now, to silence the screaming voice of his conscience.