triple indescretion

#Intro1 A few days ago, right after Cleo's level 4000 class–the one they firmly believe about a fourth of those students have what it takes to pass, mind–they got an email on their outlook from another professor in their department. "Professor Strategy Meeting–First Quarter of Fall Semester–Be there or Be a Rectangular Object with 4 Equal sides!!!!" Cleo rolled her eyes. Well, can't be that big of a deal, she supposed. Skizz probably got gifted another liter of whiskey that he wants to share with his favorite colleagues. Sweet guy. And then they looked again. It was set for six PM, which was strange, considering the very popular sportsball game that would be starting an hour later. Cleo didn't give a fuck, but, typically, Skizz does like those sorts of things. So, of course they show up, followed right behind by Ren, in front of Skizz's office. "Do you think it's whiskey or tequila again?" Ren asks. "I hope it's whiskey. The tequila he gets burns," Cleo sighs. And then the door opens. Skizz looks–a touch flushed, which gives him zero points in terms of asking 'when did he drink last?' but, eh. His supply. "Hey, you two, glad you could make it!" Skizz booms. He makes to lean back, and then doesn't, which results in an awkward, jerky sort of movment. "So, what's the occasion?" Cleo asks. Takes a seat furthest into Skizz's office, followed by Ren. "Uh. Actually–I didn't want this on the Outlook calendar. But it's kind of a more serious thing, see? Uh. So. I think you two also have this… problem student in your classes." Ren tilts his head. "Er. Problem student?" "I think I get what you're talking about. Blond, kind of cocky? I have him. He's annoying." "Yup, that one!" Skizz chirps. [Skizz feels Martyn freeze around his dick.] [[Intro2]]

#Intro2 Skizz feels Martyn freeze around his dick. "Yeah, he's been doing some, uh, propositioning me in office hours for a while now. Hard to turn students away, but, you know… you guys better be watchin' out for him, too, y'know? I thought I saw him come out of some of your classes, so I wanted to check in and make sure…" After a moment, Ren lets out the most overdramatic gasp possible. Let's be real here–if anybody was going to fall for a wayward student, it was going to be Ren. Cleo, on the other hand, shifts back and says, "Yeah, he was kind of angling for something, but I always shut that down," keeps their arms crossed, rubbing over her elbows. Skizz is always the type to love to read body language; sometimes, he has his shower fantasies of a division-wide poker game, so, well, it's good to know, yeah? And he remembers, one time, Cleo lying for Skizz in some meeting or another. And they looked the exact same. Attempted confidence, but– "So, for sure, both of you haven't had any… extracurricular time with him, yeah?" Skizz asks. Ren and Cleo both shake their heads, and then Ren goes, "No! Absolutely not. What kind of–kind of professor do you take me for, huh? Haha. Ha. Ha…" Martyn's trying to push against Skizz's knees, like getting a bit of space will allow him to worm out of this situation. Seems like everybody's getting impatient, so might as well get a move on, eh? "Hey, Martyn. You're the man of the hour, aren'tcha? Do you wanna confirm or deny?" Cleo and Ren's eyes dart to the door, and then right back to Skizz when they realize– Skizz hauls Martyn out off his cock by his hair. He's–so debauched, looks so good when he's this much of a mess, his cute outfits all wrinkled, face flushed, eyes still glazed over, so, so panicked. [Ren can't believe this– "Oh, my god, are you okay, Martyn?"] [[Intro3]]

#Intro3 "Oh my god, are you okay, Martyn?" Ren says, jumps out of his chair, steps to reach for Martyn. "Skizz, unhand him! Now!" "Hey, hey, c'mon, we all know he's gonna run, so don't let him, got it?" Skizz says. Lets go, lets Martyn rest his forearms against the desk, gasp for breath. Like–like Skizz has got a claim on him. Ren has to sigh past the anger that surges up, focus– Wait, Cleo's here, too. No way. He looks over, but they're just blank. Ren can smell things like an accelerated heartrate or increased sweating, but, because she's a zombie, her heartrate is about three or four beats a minute, always, and she doesn't sweat. So it's impossible to tell what she's thinking. "Look. Hey. We all know–you, too, Cleo, you ain't sly! We all have been fucking him. A student." Skizz sighs, and this gravity fills his expression, ages him twenty years. "We are all horrible people." Ren wants to tell him, 'Woah, hey, that's a little much,', but then Skizz continues: "We need to turn ourselves in." ["It's the right thing to do, we've all messed up big time."] [[skizzroute1]] ["I don't know what you're talking about. I have nothing to do with this."] [[cleoroute1]] ["No, no, no, dude, wait, we and Martyn both have our entire careers in front of us, it wasn't even that bad! We never commited academic fraud! ...at least, I didn't."] [[renroute1]]

#skizzroute1 He tries, tries to keep the worst of it out, but he can't help the way voice sounds so heavy with disappointment. "It's the right thing to do, we've all messed up big time." "No! No, god, please no, I–" Martyn squeaks. Ren and Cleo look ahgast. Twin expressions, mouths hanging open. "You should have known this could happen from the start, buddy," Skizz says. "I–I'm gonna, I can't get kicked out! Please, everything's riding on this–" Martyn grabs for Skizz's forearms, pleading. "Skizz–" Ren starts. "No, this'll be for the best. For him–" Skizz looks up, searches the faces of his colleagues for any amount of recognition. If he just tries hard enough, they'll understand the gravity of the situation, won't they? "And for us. All of us really are horrible people–you know it." Cleo scoffs, sounding like his words have stolen her air. "I don't know where this 'we' business came from, because I would never be dumb enough to fuck a student. That seems like a problem you two would have, not me." Ooh, that just makes him want to throttle them! Pretending like they aren't backed into the same corner everyone else is. They've got the prime witness right here, even, and still! "Well." Skizz purses his lips, like that'll suppress his agitation. Asks, instead, "Martyn? Have you fucked the art history professor?" No response. Skizz's eye gets drawn to movement; Ren's hands twitching, like like he needs to do something but is holding back. "Why no answer? It's a yes or no question. Easy, especially if you haven't." Skizz sighs. "Unless you're worried about their career, too?" Martyn looks down, his bangs hang over his face. "…I am." He's shaking where he kneels. "God, you're making him so stressed. Seriously?" Cleo's eyes are wide as they look away, cross their arms. "–Whatever. I'm sure somebody will be able to weasel it out of him, or, god forbid, will find the fucking nudes he submitted. Stupid, Martyn. That was a stupid thing to do." Rough scraping of plastic over cheap carpet as Ren shoves his chair backwards. "I'm, ah, so glad we got all that cleared up–I need to be going now." Ren claps his hands where he stands, so very stilted. "The fuck no you don't! We know you're involved too," Skizz laughs. Ren tries to chuckle along with him. But, no, he isn't joking! Skizz stops, leaves Ren all alone to notice. Cleo rolls their eyes. "Give it up, Ren." Skizz groans. God, this is gonna take a while. And, just to keep things from spreading any further than they already are– "…I'm gonna need to cancel my office hours, damnit. I'll tell everyone it's because of the game. There's a lot left that's important to do." He looses his grip on Martyn's wrist, turns and begins to type into his computer. [I cannot stick around for any of this, I need to get out. They're gonna question me further, and–] [[skizzmartynroute]] ["So? What do you all have to say for yourselves, you two?"] [[skizzroute2a]] ["Martyn, can you tell us who else decided to take you up on your... offers? They need to also be brought to justice."] [[skizzroute2b]]

#cleoroute1 The blood in Cleo's veins turn to ice. A 'fuck you' rises immediately to their lips–but they think better of it. Acting too vitriolic would give themselves away. They try to remain calm as they reply, "I don't know what you're talking about. I have nothing to do with this," and it still comes out as a spit. "I know you know something, Cleo," Skizz replies, his voice steady. "You can't pretend with me." Cleo can't help but roll her eyes at noticing it–to her right, Ren is watching Martyn where he kneels, his eyes soft and dreamy. Dear god, they think, he's so done for. He so clearly did it and he probably fell in love with him, too. There's a time and place for checking out your pretty student and it isn't now, nor here. Cleo huffs, leans forward in her chair to stand. "No, Skizz. This is a very large accusation you're lodging. Frankly? This whole situation is highly inappropriate and I don't think I should even be here." But Ren's apparently found his mind again, damn him. He grimaces, barks out "Stay right there! No! Skizz, he–he did visit their office a lot. I don't want to believe it, but… but I think you're right." Cleo's eyebrows twitch. They press their lips together tight. "He's my student. And a deeply attentive one at that, to my misfortune. You claim that just visiting me is suspicious? It's not my fault if office hours mean boning time to the both of you," they snarl. "I mean…" Martyn pipes up. He's got this stupid, undeserved, cocky smirk on his face. "Office hours does mean boning time for you." Licks of anger, betrayal curl within Cleo's chest. What does he think he's doing? They glare, offended, down at him–completely unsure of what to do next. Thankfully, Skizz gives them time to think. "Wait, err," he mumbles, spins his chair to face the bend in his desk, his keyboard. "Martyn, move over a sec. I gotta–gotta close office hours for the day. This is important. I'll say it's about the big game." [Ignore Martyn.] [[cleoroute2b]] [Scold him.] (Warnings- forcefem) [[cleoroute2a]]

#renroute1 Wait, hang on, what? "No, no, no, dude, wait, we and Martyn all have our entire careers in front of us, it wasn't even that bad! We never committed academic fraud! ...at least, I didn't," Ren says. Skizz doesn't seem to agree, though. "Well, do you think that makes things any better?" he demands. Actually–hang on. Ren might be able to press a point. "Why, yes, I do think it does. Martyn wasn't manipulating any of us for a better grade, now, was he?" Ren's argument is at least somewhat compelling; Skizz seems to pause and think about that. "I mean... I certainly didn't grade him any nicer after he blew me that first time." Martyn pipes up, says, "That eighty-nine on that first paper was uncalled for!" Skizz fires right back. "It was outlined in the rubric! I can't go against the rubric, now, can I?" Cleo snorts, and all the attention flips to her. Wait, hang on. Did she even admit to any of this? They've been letting them fly under the radar, but, "I didn't want to be the one to say this, but... you seem awfully familiar with Martyn's dick being out, seeming as you are the only party in the room who is denying that." "Well, I mean–in my focus area, I studied a lot of ancient greek statues. Those guys were pretty big on their penises! You get used to it," Cleo huffs. "Really, this whole thing is quite–" Ren cuts them off. "But you aren't revolted by it–as a matter of fact, I can smell your slick right now!" Cleo's mouth hangs open. They cross their legs. "Ren, you are such an intrusive man." "I'm just tellin' the truth!" Ren exclaims. But–nobody will be able to 'prove' this more than Skizz's proclaimed 'man of the hour'; he turns to Martyn, next, asks, "You know just as much as they do if they fucked you or not. You need to tell us the truth." The silence is deafening. Far, far away, there's rumbles from the on-campus game, but nobody's inside the building except the four of them, Ren bets. Martyn stares down at Skizz's desk. "...Yeah. Yeah. Me and Cleo fucked, too." Cleo sighs, but doesn't deny it further, either. "…I think I'm gonna need to cancel office hours, just in case a student gets a funny idea," Skizz mumbles, wheels his desk chair back over to his desktop. [Ask Martyn why.] [[renroute2a]] ["Martyn, do you need a moment to calm down?"] [[renroute2b]]

#renroute2a "There we go, all on the same page, now. Say, Martyn, why'd you do this?" Ren asks. Martyn starts spluttering. "I–I–it's not, I don't actually… um. Have a good reason, I suppose…" An aggressive scoff from Cleo. "So, you just went after your professors, putting your and our careers all at risk, just on a sexual whim? Just some dumb fancy?" Once again, Martyn stops looking at any of them. Like he's guilty, maybe. Ashamed. Can't figure out the advantageous thing to say, in any case. "I... um. Um." Which does make Ren ponder–hm, maybe a softer approach? At least for now, Ren thinks, coming around the desk, cups Martyn's cheek. Sickening to think of in these sorts of terms, but Ren does have to press his advantage, use Martyn's oh-so-obvious touch-starvedness against him. And Martyn leans right into the touch, too. "We aren't buying that, baby," Ren coos in his ear, keeps his tone sweet and the words chosen sharp. "There's a real reason, and we all know it." Martyn–he pulls away from Ren, glares at him, snaps, "Yeah, I'd think you would know the reason, considering I've said it multiple times. I just–impulsively did it! That's all!" "That's not right," Ren says. Skizz butts in, points out, "Wait, no, no, we aren't moving on from–you, you're calling him–pet names? Oh my god, Ren. We are so fucked." Wait, that's not quite fair! "I don't do it in front of the other students! He's just... you know. Special." Cleo rolls their eyes. "Ugh. Annoyingly so. I still can't even believe I fell into this with him." "I'm sorry, I just–I thought I could keep this an under the table thing, it, it's never been a problem before–" Martyn stops and gulps. Oh, no. This can't be– "It's always been just fine, huh? With all the other professors you've fucked?" Ren asks. He's hoping for an outright refutation, anything. But Martyn is silent. "Yeah, you fucked up," Skizz says. Sounds almost as pissed as Ren feels. "It's never been a problem before, huh? Who else have you fucked?" Ren feels this curl of betrayal down his spine, spiky apprehension overtaking him. His hand drops to the back of Martyn's neck. "Fucking tell us who else," he growls, too-much too-serious. Out of everything he could do–Martyn shivers, his mouth parts open. That smell–it can't be anything else. He's aroused by the sternness. "I think he gets off to his superiors telling him what to do," Skizz muses. Strokes his chin for a moment, ponders it. "Look at you. You're just such a mess." "I've noticed that, too," Ren says. Realizes. "You know, actually. You always acted like such a virgin, always telling me to tell you what to do, that you didn't know. Was that all a lie?" A soft breath. Shame is heady in the air off of Martyn. "...Yeah. I'm–I've fucked a lot. A lot." This entire time–shit. Ren, he, unfortunately, got off to how Martyn came onto him, where Martyn's eyebrows would come together, when he'd whisper, 'Am I doing this right?' and Ren got to supply his guidance, over and over. Got to be Martyn's first, his main guiding force. It's like a betrayal, even as they were never an item. Betrayal, in that Martyn just fed him a fantasy. Just to help himself get off. "Who else, Martyn?" Skizz asks, almost demands it. Martyn straightens up, declares, "I'm not going to tell any of you." [Challenging Ren? "Nah, I don't think you understand how things are working here, baby. We need to know. It's for your own good. You do realize that, right?" Ren asks. (Kinks- Impact Play/Spanking/Belting)] [[renroute3a]]

#renroute3a "Nah, I don't think you understand how things are working here, baby. We need to know. It's for your own good. You do realize that, right?" Ren asks. Because he won't stand for this, won't allow Martyn to fight against him like this. Martyn tries to jerk out his grasp, but Ren has him snatched up tight. Continues, "Do you need a punishment, huh? Need a professor to put you right in your place before we all help you?" Martyn keens, shudders. "...Yes, sir." God. Right. The other two. Ren makes eye contact with them, says more to them, "Poor thing. I bet–do you two know this? That he loves the pain?" "Yeah, kind of hard not to," Cleo says. Rolls their eyes, chuckles a hair. "We all tug on his hair and he moans so well for us, after all." "I mean, like," and Ren sits back in one of Skizz's chairs, pulls Martyn over his knee. "He did confess to me one time that he likes the short skirts because he likes to provide incentive for me to slap his ass." Skizz huffs. "Are you kidding? He told the same thing to me!" Ren–he has to know. Has to. "Well, did you ever take him up on that?" Ren asks. Was he special? Skizz shakes his head. "I don't like the idea of hitting a student. Even less than fucking them. Wait, Ren, are you about to–" "Here's what's going to happen," Ren says. "I'm going to whip your ass, Martyn, until you're all good and softened up, understood? And then... I got a plan." Ren flips up Martyn's skirt–it's so short, just Martyn vying for attention, that's all, trying to get it from anywhere he can, apparently–pulls down his panties to his thighs. Finds himself growling in approval, saying, "Look at this... You still got my marks all over you. and then you went to Skizz's office to suck him off? Insatiable slut." In response, Martyn just shakes his ass at him, grins. "Gonna leave more, Professor?" 'Professor', Martyn calling him it in this context, especially ahead of Skizz and Cleo–so fucked up. So fucked up, how hard it makes Ren throb in his jeans. "Fuck, yeah." His hand comes to rest on Martyn's ass–his attention-seeking, perky, fat ass–and he arches it into his palm. Ren can actually smell the dribble of precum coming from his cock. Ren could start with a hand spanking, but the redness of Martyn's ass, the overall impatience in the room–nah, nah. Ren's gotta make something happen now. He undoes his belt, loops it in his fist. Martyn's shoulders shudder at the sound, his hips jerk to where his cock slides between Ren's thighs like it's a hole to fuck. Smacks him once with the belt. A soft little cry from Martyn. "Ah!" "Yeah, baby?" Ren asks. Martyn might've tried to answer, but it just gets drowned out by the crack of belt against ass. Ren glances up, and–yeah. Yeah. Of course, both Skizz and Cleo are entranced by the way Martyn's ass jiggles with the impact, how much deeper red it gets. Again, again, a few more times, and then, once the tears start flowing, Ren takes a little break to grope those warm red asscheeks. "This is, like, his favorite thing, by the way." "God, I can tell," Skizz breathes. His eyes are locked on Martyn's ass. Cleo's typical humor comes next. "Okay, so, that's why you wear the belt, but why the suspenders?" Easy answer, really. "To make me look official," Ren says, and then starts laying into him again. He ends up having to clamp a hand over Martyn's mouth, both his hands around Ren's wrists to keep it there, muffling his shouts, just in case somebody walks by. Like they wouldn't hear the clear sounds of a spanking, but there's a possibility of it getting written off as literally anything else. Not like someone moaning would. Ren doesn't stop until Martyn's ass is a deep scarlet down his thighs, bruises making him look far more miserable than how his eyes reflect when they look up at him. "All good, now, baby?" Ren asks. Martyn nods, releases his hold, but he doesn't say anything when Ren stops blocking his mouth. "There we go. Skizz, mind cleaning off your desk for him, by the way?" The power's still thrumming his head, with the way Martyn looks so cute, so precious, sniffling the way he does for him. He looks up when Skizz stands up, starts shoving everything to the side. "You got it, Diggity," Skizz murmurs. [In no time at all, they've got Martyn laid up on the desk. (Kinks: Nipple Play, Anal Fingering, Edging)] #renroute5a In no time at all, they've got Martyn laid up on the desk. Legs spread, all his clothes off–fuck. Fuck. His ass is so red, all nice and punished for Ren. And the other two, he supposes. There's a cabinet that Ren sticks the bag with Martyn's clothes in; hopefully, it'll be enough steps that Martyn won't feel compelled to run. Well–just to be sure– "Martyn, wrists up," Ren says. "Bring 'em together for me, baby." Martyn does, eyes gleaming. "Yes, sir." Even in the classroom, Ren hates being called 'sir'. It's only here, only with Martyn– "Good boy," he murmurs, loops his belt around Martyn's wrists, gets him nice and held, there. Skizz and Cleo both are watching, leaned forward. "I–god," Skizz sighs. "I suppose this will be for the best. Maybe… hopefully." Really, Ren doesn't think he could care less about 'justice'; it's about knowing. Satisfying his own snarling animal pacing inside him. Cleo comes around behind Martyn, trails a finger down his chest. "Aren't you so pretty laid out for us… and who knows how many others." Such a pretty flush across Martyn's cheeks. Ren stares for a moment longer than necessary, and then– "You gotta tell us who else, Martyn. Might just keep you in here for the rest of time, if you don't. I mean, I don't exactly mind it, but…" "I–I can't," Martyn mumbles, shudders under the weight of three people's attention on him. "You're gonna, dude," Skizz says. His hand envelopes Martyn's dick, his fingers flexing in a squeeze. "You think we don't know how to make you talk?" Martyn sighs as Skizz starts jerking him off, slow. And Skizz doesn't even know how to squeeze his balls, make it all teasing, make Martyn keen and then tilt his head begging for more. But Ren should let him work, at least for now. At least for now. "I'll speed up if you give us a name," Skizz sing-songs. "And you'll get to feel so, so good!" "No, no, no, you aren't getting it out of me, you aren't–" Skizz stops, lets go, and Martyn's hips buck into air. "Please, please–" God, Ren just wants to sink his teeth in, bite Martyn's shoulder, anything. "Not until you tell us who else." A long moment. "…Um, I–there were, um, two. Just two. Impulse, um, Impulse SV and Tango Tek?" Oh, Ren kind of knows of them, but–he was kind of scared. Of it being somebody he knew. But Skizz gasps. "Impy and Top? Oh my–oh, my god. Oh, my god, I don't–I can't–" Martyn looks so guilty, horrified. Shit, they're going to make him clam up–because there's more, there has to be–but Ren doesn't know what to do. But Cleo does, says, "You're doing the right thing, Martyn, you're doing just fine." Skizz looks up, starts jerking him off again. "That's right, you're doing good for us. Doing very good–wait, hang on," and stops jerking him off again to fetch a legal pad. Writes the names in it, hand shaking. "Please, don't leave me hanging–" Martyn whimpers. "Stop complaining," Cleo says, slaps his nipple. "Shush all that, now, you'll get what we give you." Another cute sound out of Martyn. "He likes that, huh," Ren says. Just a snort from Cleo. Feels a bit like–he doesn't know. That he's completely in the dark, even though, surely, surely, he knows the most out of the three of them, right? "Actually, I swear he's nearly cum off his nipples before. He says no, but I saw it," Ren continues. Cleo starts kneading his tits, and Skizz backs off a touch. He does seem to enjoy watching, Ren supposes. At the words, or maybe at the touch, Martyn whines, squeezes his eyes closed. His knees press together. Oh, that's no good. "Uh uh uh! No, thighs spread, baby," Ren murmurs, pries Martyn's legs open, traces a line up his cock, back down, presses his fingers right under Martyn's ballsack, his taint. Above him, Cleo's rolling both his nipples between their fingers at once. Her voice is lower, saying, "You know we aren't going to let you cum, right? Not at all. Unless you tell us every damn professor on this campus that you've fucked. Hell, off campus too, if you're a total whore." "Fuck, fuck! Would you actually–actually. Send me home like this, if I don't…" Cleo scoffs. A grin's pulling their round cheeks up, eyes that frosty green. "More like we'll be here as long as we need for you to fess up." Martyn keens, probably just at the thought–what a total whore. His cock twitches. Begs, so sweet, "Please, please just fuck me then. I need–to be fucked, I want it so bad. Anything, anyone. Please." "And what do we say if we want more..?" Skizz asks, leading tone in his voice. Cleo tweaks his nipple, pinches it between the joints of two fingers. Pulls enough to make Martyn arch his back, pant, "I–I. There was also–oh, fuck, fuck. Doc, Doc Monster, he, I–" This time, Ren feels his own blood run cold. Doc? Doc got involved with Martyn, and Ren never knew? They weren't together, no, but it still feels like cheating, for some reason. Like a betrayal. But Ren's just–he has to press on. See. See who else it could've been. He gathers Martyn's precum on his fingers, swipes over his asshole. "Good! Good good. Well–not that you... had that illicit relationship, I mean. Especially with–Doc, of all people. But that you're telling us." A little smile from Martyn, something a little too innocent for the kind of fuckup he's done, and it makes Ren's cock throb again. "But, um... Sorry. That was the last one. You'll just have to fuck me good now, please." Something close to a shrug, but not quite. That familiar scent of a liar–if Ren were to lick Martyn's skin, he could taste it, he knows. Decides to keep goading him on, asking, "Are you sure, baby? Positive? I dunno..." Ren's fingers circle his hole, pull at the skin. "I still have the feeling you're holding back." They push just inside his rim, slow with the dryness. Martyn moans, loud, at the insertion. "God, you're such a slut–what if somebody was walking by, huh?" Cleo scolds. "They would've heard, and then, before we knew it, we'd have another person involved in your ring of professors you've fucked, Martyn!" The degradation seems to make Martyn's vision literally go in and out for a few seconds. His lips part. "Keep goin', Ren," Skizz says. Squirts lube over Ren's fingers, sighs at the excess splattering on his desk. "Eh. We'll just clean that up later." The words come out of Ren before he even realizes how cruel they sound. "Should make Martyn lick it up." Martyn whimpers at it, his eyes begging not to. "Why not? 'Cause it's gross? Lemme tell ya something, then, baby," Ren growls, leans in closer. "It's fuckin' nasty to have my fingers inside an ass that's as well-fucked as yours is. I don't know how many different people's DNA I could be comin' into contact with right now. That's disgusting, Martyn, I do hope you realize." This strangled sound comes out of Martyn's throat; it genuinely sounds like he's about to cum, and Ren's other hand moves to wrap tight around the base of his dick, just in case. But he doesn't. After a moment, Ren gets back to fingering him properly, curling into his prostate in a slow, steady pattern. "There… there hasn't been any other professors, please, I promise–" "You're lying, Martyn, I know it," Ren growls, shoves a third finger inside. Instead of refuting the point, Martyn starts begging, "Please, fuck me on your cock, please–" "Only if you give us one more name," Ren says. "Or two, if you have it!" Skizz chimes in. "It's just what's best for you, you should know that…" And then Cleo. "So come on, now, Martyn. Spill it." Silence–oh, Martyn's dick is jerking, he's about to–so Ren stops moving. "Please, I was on the edge–please keep going–" "Not until you get us what we want," Ren says. Pulls out, starts his wrist stretches. But Martyn stays quiet; after a few minutes of letting him come back down from the edge–well, what else is there to do? Ren starts fingering him again. It happens a few more times; Cleo keeps pinching his nipples, and Skizz keeps stroking his cock, and Martyn gets so, so close, to where Ren can smell the cum in his cock but he's not quite over the edge yet, not left up– And then, and then. "F-False. Symmetry… please…" Martyn whimpers. False? False? Of all the people– Damn it. Damn it. First Doc, and then– It's like Martyn knows who Ren's close to. Damn it! Ren yanks Martyn's legs up, makes him spread them. Shoves his jeans down. "Wait, Ren–" Skizz begins. "I don't give a fuck," Ren says, and shoves in. Martyn's arching his back, panting; the other two have their hands down their pants, watching Ren fuck a student like he threw down a few twenties for the 'privilege', not doing anything about it. Just like Doc, just like False, damnit– Cum splatters against Ren's torso, up onto his shirt. That'll be hell to clean later. "I'm done, please, hurts," Martyn whimpers. "Too much–" But Ren knows, when Martyn says 'too much', he means 'keep going'. So Ren does, keeps pounding him, while Martyn arches his back, almost wails before Skizz shoves his cock in his mouth, instead. [After that night…] [[renrouteend1]]

#renroute2b Oh, Martyn does seem stressed out; might be best to be kinder to him. "Martyn, do you need a moment to calm down?" Ren asks. "I–I, yeah, yeah," Martyn mumbles, tries to weasel out from around Skizz. "Can I get some space, please..." Ren gives Skizz a nod, and he does let him go, his hand lingering on Martyn. The second he lets go, though–Martyn attempts to book it, but Ren was expecting it, to be truthful, moves to catch Martyn. Tugs him to. "No, baby, we aren't doing that, no," Ren murmurs. If Martyn does escape–they might genuinely lose him. Cleo's voice makes Ren turn his attention. "You're calling him baby? Oh my god, Ren," they say, disappointed in him. "He's..." and Ren finds himself pulling Martyn closer. "It's hard not to, I suppose." "Even though we know he went and slutted it up with at least the three of us, if not more?" Cleo asks. "He's not this innocent boy, you know." Right. Lest Ren forget. "Um.... yeah. I guess." Ren exhales. He still keeps an arm around Martyn's middle, almost shielding him from the other two. He knows he shouldn't let Martyn run from the consequences of what he's done, but. He seems so lost, the poor thing. Eyes downcast, leaning into Ren's touch. Like he does need the protection. Skizz butts in. "All cool and all that, Diggity, but we need to find out who else, though." The smallest, "But, why?" from beside Ren. "Honestly? Curiosity, first thing. Second thing, though... we need to have you stop all this. This ain't right. It'll get you hurt." "But, I don't, I don't want to!" Martyn snaps, tries to break away. [Skizz is right. They need to know, so they can protect Martyn from his own bad decisions.] [[renroute3b]] [Skizz is damned wrong–Ren needs to protect Martyn from all this, from him and Cleo.] [[renroute3c]] [Something possessive surges in Ren. He needs to protect Martyn, keep him. He needs to.] [[renroute3d]]

#renrouteend1 After that night, Ren, Cleo, and Skizz all come to the decision–they need to make sure Martyn doesn't fuck any other professors. A brief bit of arguing occurs, but they all come to a conclusion of, hey, they can just keep sharing Martyn. He's got enough energy to go around, as has been shown. Somehow, Martyn doesn't seem to mind the assertion, when they confront him about it. "Eh–I was figuring I was getting too old for all that getting around," or something along those lines, even after Cleo reminded him he's twenty-one. They have plenty more three and foursomes past that point, and Martyn winds up taking a minor in filmology to keep taking classes with Ren, which makes him feel–well, at least a little bit special. Less so, when Martyn takes on Skizz as a mentor in the psychohistory master's program, but the make-up rimjob he gave Ren was pretty sweet, he's got to admit.

#renroute3b He needs to protect Martyn from his own bad decisions. From–this whole thing. "Martyn, you're going to tell us," Ren says. "Skizz, clean off your desk. I've got an idea on how to solve things." Skizz complies, seeming too shocked to even ask how or why. Doubled–especially the way Cleo's mouth hangs open–when Ren throws Martyn on the desk. He is rather even-tempered most of the time, he supposes, knows his reputation as an easy grader. Which, to be honest, is fine. The way Martyn gazes at Ren–hm. Maybe he's done the same, to Ren. To everybody else. Maybe he's done the same. ["Yeah. Yeah, I can get behind this, actually," Ren says. "Why don't we see how much he actually knows [[renroute5b]]

#renroute3c Skizz is damned wrong–Ren needs to protect Martyn from all this, from him and Cleo. But–how to do that, how to do that. "Martyn. You need to promise to stop all this. It's just as Skizz says, this is no good," Ren says. Martyn laughs, has this sly little grin. "Yeah. Sure, I promise." Behind him, Ren catches Skizz's eyes. He sticks out his tongue and then rolls his eyes. In response, Ren mouths, 'trust me.' Probably not the greatest, but–oh, well. As long as Skizz can go along with him long enough to make this happen. "Can you promise to stop all this... with everybody but us?" Martyn thinks. Lies, Ren's sure of it, "Um, sure, I suppose." Yeah. Ren was kind of hoping, from the second Skizz pulled him up from the desk, that it'd end up being something like this. "We'll have to convince you, huh? Wanting all three of your professors... Oh, well. Skizz, clean off the desk." Skizz mouths at him once more, 'are we seriously going to let him off?' ['Of course not,' Ren mouths back. But they just need to pull him along a bit further.] [[renroute4c]] [Ren knows it'll tear him up inside to hear about anyone else Martyn's been with. And it's not necessary!] [[renroute4d]]

#renroute3d Something possessive surges in Ren. He needs to protect Martyn, keep him. He needs to. But, but. These are such insurmountable consequences for something that's like, not that bad, even, in Ren's point of view. But, how can he protect Martyn–keep him– ["Skizz, seriously, do we need to know? I sure don't."] [[renroute4d]] ["Guys, why don't you just let me take responsibility for Martyn? None of this will keep happening, I promise you."] [[renroute4e]]

#renroute5b In no time at all, they've got Martyn laid up on the desk. Legs spread, all his clothes off–fuck. Fuck. He's so pretty, all on display for Ren. And the other two, he supposes. There's a cabinet that Ren sticks the bag with Martyn's clothes in; hopefully, it'll be enough steps that Martyn won't feel compelled to run. Well–just to be sure– "Martyn, wrists up," Ren says. "Bring 'em together for me, baby." Martyn does, eyes gleaming. "Yes, sir." Even in the classroom, Ren hates being called 'sir'. It's only here, only with Martyn– "Good boy," he murmurs. "Skizz, can I borrow your belt, please?" "I–god," Skizz sighs. "I suppose this will be for the best. Maybe… hopefully." Hands it over, and Ren cinches it around Martyn's wrists right away. It'll probably leave marks on Martyn later, but, hey, hey, that'll be just fine, Ren thinks. As for Skizz's hesitancy–really, Ren doesn't think he could care less about 'justice'; it's about knowing. Shielding Martyn from the worst of his own actions. <s>Satisfying his own snarling animal pacing inside him–</s> Cleo comes around behind Martyn, trails a finger down his chest. "Aren't you so pretty laid out for us… and who knows how many others." Such a pretty flush across Martyn's cheeks. Ren stares for a moment longer than necessary, and then– "You gotta tell us who else, Martyn. Might just keep you in here for the rest of time, if you don't. I mean, I don't exactly mind it, but…" "I–I can't," Martyn mumbles, shudders under the weight of three people's attention on him. "You're gonna, dude," Skizz says. His hand envelopes Martyn's dick, his fingers flexing in a squeeze. "You think we don't know how to make you talk?" Martyn sighs as Skizz starts jerking him off, slow. And Skizz doesn't even know how to squeeze his balls, make it all teasing, make Martyn keen and then tilt his head begging for more. But Ren should let him work, at least for now. At least for now. "I'll speed up if you give us a name," Skizz sing-songs. "And you'll get to feel so, so good!" "No, no, no, you aren't getting it out of me, you aren't–" Skizz stops, lets go, and Martyn's hips buck into air. "Please, please–" God, Ren just wants to sink his teeth in, bite Martyn's shoulder, anything. "Not until you tell us who else." A long moment. "…Um, I–there were, um, two. Just two. Impulse, um, Impulse SV and Tango Tek?" Oh, Ren kind of knows of them, but–he was kind of scared. Of it being somebody he knew. But Skizz gasps. "Impy and Top? Oh my–oh, my god. Oh, my god, I don't–I can't–" Martyn looks so guilty, horrified. Shit, they're going to make him clam up–because there's more, there has to be–but Ren doesn't know what to do. But Cleo does, says, "You're doing the right thing, Martyn, you're doing just fine." Skizz looks up, starts jerking him off again. "That's right, you're doing good for us. Doing very good–wait, hang on," and stops jerking him off again to fetch a legal pad. Writes the names in it, hand shaking. "Please, don't leave me hanging–" Martyn whimpers. "Stop complaining," Cleo says, slaps his nipple. "Shush all that, now, you'll get what we give you." Another cute sound out of Martyn. "He likes that, huh," Ren says. Just a snort from Cleo. Feels a bit like–he doesn't know. That he's completely in the dark, even though, surely, surely, he knows the most out of the three of them, right? "Actually, I swear he's nearly cum off his nipples before. He says no, but I saw it," Ren continues. Cleo starts kneading his tits, and Skizz backs off a touch. He does seem to enjoy watching, Ren supposes. At the words, or maybe at the touch, Martyn whines, squeezes his eyes closed. His knees press together. Oh, that's no good. "Uh uh uh! No, thighs spread, baby," Ren murmurs, pries Martyn's legs open, traces a line up his cock, back down, presses his fingers right under Martyn's ballsack, his taint. Above him, Cleo's rolling both his nipples between their fingers at once. Her voice is lower, saying, "You know we aren't going to let you cum, right? Not at all. Unless you tell us every damn professor on this campus that you've fucked. Hell, off campus too, if you're a total whore." "Fuck, fuck! Would you actually–actually. Send me home like this, if I don't…" Cleo scoffs. A grin's pulling their round cheeks up, eyes that frosty green. "More like we'll be here as long as we need for you to fess up." Martyn keens, probably just at the thought–what a total whore. His cock twitches. Begs, so sweet, "Please, please just fuck me then. I need–to be fucked, I want it so bad. Anything, anyone. Please." "And what do we say if we want more..?" Skizz asks, leading tone in his voice. Cleo tweaks his nipple, pinches it between the joints of two fingers. Pulls enough to make Martyn arch his back, pant, "I–I. There was also–oh, fuck, fuck. Doc, Doc Monster, he, I–" This time, Ren feels his own blood run cold. Doc? Doc got involved with Martyn, and Ren never knew? They weren't together, no, but it still feels like cheating, for some reason. Like a betrayal. But Ren's just–he has to press on. See. See who else it could've been. He gathers Martyn's precum on his fingers, swipes over his asshole. "Good! Good good. Well–not that you... had that illicit relationship, I mean. Especially with–Doc, of all people. But that you're telling us." A little smile from Martyn, something a little too innocent for the kind of fuckup he's done, and it makes Ren's cock throb again. "But, um... Sorry. That was the last one. You'll just have to fuck me good now, please." Something close to a shrug, but not quite. That familiar scent of a liar–if Ren were to lick Martyn's skin, he could taste it, he knows. Decides to keep goading him on, asking, "Are you sure, baby? Positive? I dunno..." Ren's fingers circle his hole, pull at the skin. "I still have the feeling you're holding back." They push just inside his rim, slow with the dryness. Martyn moans, loud, at the insertion. "God, you're such a slut–what if somebody was walking by, huh?" Cleo scolds. "They would've heard, and then, before we knew it, we'd have another person involved in your ring of professors you've fucked, Martyn!" The degradation seems to make Martyn's vision literally go in and out for a few seconds. His lips part. "Keep goin', Ren," Skizz says. Squirts lube over Ren's fingers, sighs at the excess splattering on his desk. "Eh. We'll just clean that up later." The words come out of Ren before he even realizes how cruel they sound. "Should make Martyn lick it up." Martyn whimpers at it, his eyes begging not to. "Why not? 'Cause it's gross? Lemme tell ya something, then, baby," Ren growls, leans in closer. "It's fuckin' nasty to have my fingers inside an ass that's as well-fucked as yours is. I don't know how many different people's DNA I could be comin' into contact with right now. That's disgusting, Martyn, I do hope you realize." This strangled sound comes out of Martyn's throat; it genuinely sounds like he's about to cum, and Ren's other hand moves to wrap tight around the base of his dick, just in case. But he doesn't. After a moment, Ren gets back to fingering him properly, curling into his prostate in a slow, steady pattern. "There… there hasn't been any other professors, please, I promise–" "You're lying, Martyn, I know it," Ren growls, shoves a third finger inside. Instead of refuting the point, Martyn starts begging, "Please, fuck me on your cock, please–" "Only if you give us one more name," Ren says. "Or two, if you have it!" Skizz chimes in. "It's just what's best for you, you should know that…" And then Cleo. "So come on, now, Martyn. Spill it." Silence–oh, Martyn's dick is jerking, he's about to–so Ren stops moving. "Please, I was on the edge–please keep going–" "Not until you get us what we want," Ren says. Pulls out, starts his wrist stretches. But Martyn stays quiet; after a few minutes of letting him come back down from the edge–well, what else is there to do? Ren starts fingering him again. It happens a few more times; Cleo keeps pinching his nipples, and Skizz keeps stroking his cock, and Martyn gets so, so close, to where Ren can smell the cum in his cock but he's not quite over the edge yet, not left up– And then, and then. "F-False. Symmetry… please…" Martyn whimpers. False? False? Of all the people– Damn it. Damn it. First Doc, and then– It's like Martyn knows who Ren's close to. Damn it! Ren yanks Martyn's legs up, makes him spread them. Shoves his jeans down. "Wait, Ren–" Skizz begins. "I don't give a fuck," Ren says, and shoves in. About–about shielding Martyn anymore, about anything– Martyn's arching his back, panting; the other two have their hands down their pants, watching Ren fuck a student like he threw down a few twenties for the 'privilege', not doing anything about it. Just like Doc, just like False, damnit– Cum splatters against Ren's torso, up onto his shirt. That'll be hell to clean later. "I'm done, please, hurts," Martyn whimpers. "Too much–" But Ren knows, when Martyn says 'too much', he means 'keep going'. So Ren does, keeps pounding him, while Martyn arches his back, almost wails before Skizz shoves his cock in his mouth, instead. [After that night…] [[renrouteend1]]

#renroute4c 'Of course not,' Ren mouths back. But they just need to pull him along a bit further. Skizz nods. [Right. With Skizz's blessing– "Hey, you wanna clear off your desk so we can lay our student up upon it?"] [[renroute5c]]

#renroute4d Ren knows it'll tear him up inside to hear about anyone else Martyn's been with. And it's not necessary! It's just not necessary if Martyn agrees he'll stop. "Skizz, seriously, do we need to know? I sure don't." "I think so–" "We're not letting him off," Ren says. Feels like a lie, but he presses on. "We're getting him off!" If he's only ours, he's safe. Ren has to be sure of that. Especially if Martyn were to become only his. Only Ren's. For now, though– "Go back to sucking his cock, okay, baby?" Ren indicates. Martyn seems almost gleeful, fumbling for Skizz's cock as he is, sucking it down so greedily. It seems difficult for Skizz to protest much more after that. "I–I. Fuck! Okay, man! Just one last time! And then–no more!" God, Ren would never be able to say that. Instead– "Cleo, don't we have such a good boy here? He's got an occupied mouth, but two free hands…" Martyn winds up being so good, pleasing all three of them at once, mouth ending up on Cleo's crotch, jerking off Skizz, Ren fucking Martyn's fat thighs. This low growl comes out of Ren, right in Martyn's ear. "No one else. You don't need to fuck any other professors ever again, Martyn, you understand?" Ren hears Martyn just barely; his whimper into Cleo, "Yes, yes–" "Good boy." Afterwards, cum down Martyn's thighs and smeared all over his face, he's shaking. Tears flowing out the corners of his eyes. Poor boy. Ren can't help but to pity him–ending up like this, needing to be cared for as so. Pull him close and let him cry it all out while Cleo cleans him up. [Afterwards.] [[renroute5d]]

#renroute5c In no time at all, they've got Martyn laid up on the desk. Legs spread, all his clothes off–fuck. Fuck. He's so pretty, all on display for Ren. And the other two, he supposes, loathe be Ren to say it. There's a cabinet that Ren sticks the bag with Martyn's clothes in; hopefully, it'll be enough steps that Martyn won't feel compelled to run when he realizes what Ren's pulling. Well–just to be sure– "Martyn, wrists up," Ren says. "Bring 'em together for me, baby." Martyn does, eyes suspicious, even as excited as he seems. "Yes, sir." Even in the classroom, Ren hates being called 'sir'. It's only here, only with Martyn– "Good boy," he murmurs. "Skizz, can I borrow your belt, please?" "I–god," Skizz sighs. "I suppose this will be for the best. Maybe… hopefully." Hands it over, and Ren cinches it around Martyn's wrists right away. It'll probably leave marks on Martyn later, but, hey, hey, that'll be just fine, Ren thinks. As for Skizz's hesitancy–really, Ren doesn't think he could care less about 'justice'; it's about knowing. Shielding Martyn from the worst of his own actions. <s>Satisfying his own snarling animal pacing inside him–</s> Cleo comes around behind Martyn, trails a finger down his chest. "Aren't you so pretty laid out for us… and who knows how many others." Such a pretty flush across Martyn's cheeks. Ren stares for a moment longer than necessary, and then– "You gotta tell us who else, Martyn. Might just keep you in here for the rest of time, if you don't. I mean, I don't exactly mind it, but…" "I–wait, we're still doing this?" Martyn shrieks, shudders under the weight of three people's attention on him. "I thought we weren't! I thought–" "No, you're going to talk," Ren demands. Martyn scoffs, all pissed off, turns his head. "You're gonna, dude," Skizz says. His hand envelopes Martyn's dick, his fingers flexing in a squeeze. "You think we don't know how to make you talk?" Martyn sighs as Skizz starts jerking him off, slow. And Skizz doesn't even know how to squeeze his balls, make it all teasing, make Martyn keen and then tilt his head begging for more. But Ren should let him work, at least for now. At least for now. "I'll speed up if you give us a name," Skizz sing-songs. "And you'll get to feel so, so good!" "No, no, no, you aren't getting it out of me, you aren't–" Skizz stops, lets go, and Martyn's hips buck into air. "Please, please–" God, Ren just wants to sink his teeth in, bite Martyn's shoulder, anything. "Not until you tell us who else." A long moment. "…Um, I–there were, um, two. Just two. Impulse, um, Impulse SV and Tango Tek?" Oh, Ren kind of knows of them, but–he was kind of scared. Of it being somebody he knew. But Skizz gasps. "Impy and Top? Oh my–oh, my god. Oh, my god, I don't–I can't–" Martyn looks so guilty, horrified. Shit, they're going to make him clam up–because there's more, there has to be–but Ren doesn't know what to do. But Cleo does, says, "You're doing the right thing, Martyn, you're doing just fine." Skizz looks up, starts jerking him off again. "That's right, you're doing good for us. Doing very good–wait, hang on," and stops jerking him off again to fetch a legal pad. Writes the names in it, hand shaking. "Please, don't leave me hanging–" Martyn whimpers. "Stop complaining," Cleo says, slaps his nipple. "Shush all that, now, you'll get what we give you." Another cute sound out of Martyn. "He likes that, huh," Ren says. Just a snort from Cleo. Feels a bit like–he doesn't know. That he's completely in the dark, even though, surely, surely, he knows the most out of the three of them, right? "Actually, I swear he's nearly cum off his nipples before. He says no, but I saw it," Ren continues. Cleo starts kneading his tits, and Skizz backs off a touch. He does seem to enjoy watching, Ren supposes. At the words, or maybe at the touch, Martyn whines, squeezes his eyes closed. His knees press together. Oh, that's no good. "Uh uh uh! No, thighs spread, baby," Ren murmurs, pries Martyn's legs open, traces a line up his cock, back down, presses his fingers right under Martyn's ballsack, his taint. Above him, Cleo's rolling both his nipples between their fingers at once. Her voice is lower, saying, "You know we aren't going to let you cum, right? Not at all. Unless you tell us every damn professor on this campus that you've fucked. Hell, off campus too, if you're a total whore." "Fuck, fuck! Would you actually–actually. Send me home like this, if I don't…" Cleo scoffs. A grin's pulling their round cheeks up, eyes that frosty green. "More like we'll be here as long as we need for you to fess up." Martyn keens, probably just at the thought–what a total whore. His cock twitches. Begs, so sweet, "Please, please just fuck me then. I need–to be fucked, I want it so bad. Anything, anyone. Please." "And what do we say if we want more..?" Skizz asks, leading tone in his voice. Cleo tweaks his nipple, pinches it between the joints of two fingers. Pulls enough to make Martyn arch his back, pant, "I–I. There was also–oh, fuck, fuck. Doc, Doc Monster, he, I–" This time, Ren feels his own blood run cold. Doc? Doc got involved with Martyn, and Ren never knew? They weren't together, no, but it still feels like cheating, for some reason. Like a betrayal. But Ren's just–he has to press on. See. See who else it could've been. He gathers Martyn's precum on his fingers, swipes over his asshole. "Good! Good good. Well–not that you... had that illicit relationship, I mean. Especially with–Doc, of all people. But that you're telling us." A little smile from Martyn, something a little too innocent for the kind of fuckup he's done, and it makes Ren's cock throb again. "But, um... Sorry. That was the last one. You'll just have to fuck me good now, please." Something close to a shrug, but not quite. That familiar scent of a liar–if Ren were to lick Martyn's skin, he could taste it, he knows. Decides to keep goading him on, asking, "Are you sure, baby? Positive? I dunno..." Ren's fingers circle his hole, pull at the skin. "I still have the feeling you're holding back." They push just inside his rim, slow with the dryness. Martyn moans, loud, at the insertion. "God, you're such a slut–what if somebody was walking by, huh?" Cleo scolds. "They would've heard, and then, before we knew it, we'd have another person involved in your ring of professors you've fucked, Martyn!" The degradation seems to make Martyn's vision literally go in and out for a few seconds. His lips part. "Keep goin', Ren," Skizz says. Squirts lube over Ren's fingers, sighs at the excess splattering on his desk. "Eh. We'll just clean that up later." The words come out of Ren before he even realizes how cruel they sound. "Should make Martyn lick it up." Martyn whimpers at it, his eyes begging not to. "Why not? 'Cause it's gross? Lemme tell ya something, then, baby," Ren growls, leans in closer. "It's fuckin' nasty to have my fingers inside an ass that's as well-fucked as yours is. I don't know how many different people's DNA I could be comin' into contact with right now. That's disgusting, Martyn, I do hope you realize." This strangled sound comes out of Martyn's throat; it genuinely sounds like he's about to cum, and Ren's other hand moves to wrap tight around the base of his dick, just in case. But he doesn't. After a moment, Ren gets back to fingering him properly, curling into his prostate in a slow, steady pattern. "There… there hasn't been any other professors, please, I promise–" "You're lying, Martyn, I know it," Ren growls, shoves a third finger inside. Instead of refuting the point, Martyn starts begging, "Please, fuck me on your cock, please–" "Only if you give us one more name," Ren says. "Or two, if you have it!" Skizz chimes in. "It's just what's best for you, you should know that…" And then Cleo. "So come on, now, Martyn. Spill it." Silence–oh, Martyn's dick is jerking, he's about to–so Ren stops moving. "Please, I was on the edge–please keep going–" "Not until you get us what we want," Ren says. Pulls out, starts his wrist stretches. But Martyn stays quiet; after a few minutes of letting him come back down from the edge–well, what else is there to do? Ren starts fingering him again. It happens a few more times; Cleo keeps pinching his nipples, and Skizz keeps stroking his cock, and Martyn gets so, so close, to where Ren can smell the cum in his cock but he's not quite over the edge yet, not left up– And then, and then. "Sh-shubble… please…" Martyn whimpers. "I mean–I dunno if you'd call it sex, but–" Ren has to blink down at him a few times, stunned into silence. It's Cleo who says, "The clownology professor?" "Oh, my god," Skizz cackles. "Our notches on the bedpost are carved right next to a clown professor?" It–everything about the situation, everything, makes Ren howl with laughter, having to wipe tears away from his eyes. "…Um. I'd like to cum now, please?" Martyn asks. Looks get exchanged around the room. "Oh, why not," Ren says, starts fingering Martyn once more, full intent of giving him a prostate orgasm. After Doc's name–god. Ren was worried it'd be somebody else he loves. Thank god it wasn't. [After that night…] [[renrouteend1]]

#renroute5d Afterwards, though, things shift. Towards the worst. Martyn doesn't come to Ren's office hours again, ever; nor does he for Skizz or Cleo, and the concern in their voices makes Ren believe them. It feels like Martyn's keeping to himself to a concerning degree–even dressing more modest, and he does seems so sad–but Ren just doesn't know what to do, how to confront him. He'd love to fuck him again, but, god, it's such a bad idea, at the same time. Even as he misses Martyn's presence, his tight ass and personality both. At least–well, at least as far as Ren knows, Martyn never tries again to fuck another professor. So, maybe everything does end well enough, he supposes? Maybe? Although, after graduation, Martyn just kind of disappears. Which, Ren has to keep reminding himself, could mean nothing. [Skizz notices something peculiar, though.] [[renrouteend2]]

#renrouteend2 A few years later, Skizz notices something peculiar, standing outside his door. Ren opening up his office door for a student. A cute blond one, dressing slutty, so hesitant in the hand they put on his bicep. And then it happens again. Again. Skizz asks his students who also have Ren's class if Ren keeps closing office hours, and, he is. God, what a stupid man. Letting this happen twice! Damn it all, Skizz goes to the department dean and incites an investigation.

#renroute4e There's only one way Ren can really see this situation getting fixed. "Guys, why don't you just let me take responsibility for Martyn? None of this will keep happening, I promise you." Skizz gasps, affronted. "What do you mean? The way to make sure this doesn't happen again is to enact consequences for everybody Martyn was involved in." Martyn snorts. Says, "I'd do this at any institution of learning… Like, we all know that, right?" All the air gets sucked out the room. Ren–Ren is boiling, has to temp it down, he has to. He's so close to being the only one. He's so close. Horrible way to think, but Ren can't help it. Skizz pipes up, contemplating. "So... wait, you have a point. We can't fire every professor–there'd be nobody left to teach!" "Right, yeah," Cleo says. Ren nods as well. He can't even talk. Martyn–Martyn saying that– And then, Skizz says, "Okay, I think–we can get somewhere. Just make sure you won't, you know, fraternizes with anybody else, understood, Martyn?" Martyn's gaze lands–on Ren. Pacifies him a touch. "Including Ren," Skizz states, arms crossed. That makes Martyn start up, almost shouting before Cleo grabs his arm and calms him down. "No! It's not that bad–Ren can keep it seperate, I'm sure. Look." Martyn sighs. "Just–if things do blow up, I'll... I'll release all the names. But please keep the secret, Skizz. Please. I really do just want to graduate, I'm so close. Please let me graduate… Don't. Don't let me fail all this..." The resistance in Skizz visibly crumbles; he slumps his shoulders, sighs, and nods. They usher Martyn out first, and, after a little bit, each of them leave, too. [Martyn gets a text that night, from Ren. One he cannot ignore.] (Warnings- possessive behavior, dubious consent, implied/referenced past child abuse) [[renroute5e]]

#renroute5e Martyn gets a text that night, from Ren. One he cannot ignore. 'Come over to my place this weekend, will ya?' Why not, really? Martyn trusts Ren, highly doubts he would kill him or otherwise. He goes to a gas station Friday evening, stands on a corner where the cameras don't point, waits for Ren to pull up. "Hey, baby," Ren says. "All buckled in?" Ren's care always makes Martyn's tummy flip, his smile makes Martyn's thighs clench together. And he doesn't get mad at Martyn, has never raised his voice at him. Martyn doesn't even get anxious when he sees Ren's hair in a ponytail anymore, not like how he does around his mother. "Uh huh," Martyn mumbles, overnight bag between his legs. "Mm?" Ren's not insistent on this from anybody else. Not even in the classroom, either. But– "Yes, sir," Martyn murmurs. "That's my good boy," Ren says, and drives Martyn off. They talk about–whatever. Not Skizz's office, basically, and Martyn's plenty happy about that. Like, the know-it-all in Ren's class who tries to show off all the stuff he knows, and Ren cautions Martyn not to get too rude but Ren is also about done with the guy, too, Martyn can tell. Truth be told, it's kind of instinct; Martyn always makes sure that there's somebody to be liked less than him, just in case. Just in case. About twenty minutes later, into a woodsey-type part of town, is Ren's house. It's a nice place, two stories. Ren has a mortgage, even, lucky guy. The place, for some reason, gives Martyn a weird sense of deja vu, even though he's never been here before. "Here we are!" Ren chirps. He's all smiles, still. "Hold off, 'n I'll fetch your door for you, okay?" "That's not necessary," Martyn mumbles. His limbs feel shaky at that, like–he's kind of being treated old-fashioned. Kind of being treated like he's being courted. It's a bizarre feeling. "Let me," Ren says, a tad more insistent. Hops out. Martyn lets him, and Ren even guides him out of the vehicle, hand on Martyn's back in this guiding gesture, takes his bag for him. That's the type Ren is. He loves to provide guidance, direction, and it's not so bad to have, every once in a while. At least, it reflects in the assignment rubrics Ren gives. He gets ushered into Ren's home. "Go ahead and sit, and I'll put this in my room," Ren says, walks off–with Martyn's bag. It's like, a bit, Martyn would really rather keep it with him, mostly because of his laptop, but he doesn't want to run against Ren, defy him, either. The banter feels good, the refusing to be a tease and get a few smacks on the ass. But Martyn's leery of something that might make him more than momentarily annoyed. Especially after Skizz's office. When Martyn made all that trouble for Ren. It's in the back of Martyn's mind, a bit; this could be a revenge plot by Ren. Martyn nearly cut him loose from his job! Of course Ren would be mad. Even as he doesn't seem it. A minute later, Ren's back, padding about. "Have you had dinner yet, Martyn?" "Nah." "I've got some steak resting, and I can heat the vegetables back up, how's that sound?" That's–a lot. "Oh, uh, a steak dinner?" Ren has that sweet, calm expression. "Unless you don't like that?" "That's fine!" Martyn squeaks. It just seems like a lot of money, mostly. Not too terribly necessary. They end up at Ren's kitchen table in front of windows with the curtains drawn, Ren–Ren doing up his plate, too. A thick cut of steak, potatoes and asparagus, a glass of water on the side. It really is a lot. "Feels a little like you're bribing me," Martyn jokes, filling in the time before Ren takes his first bite, so Martyn can start eating, too. Ren laughs, starts cutting his steak, so Martyn does the same. It's a tad closer to rare than medium rare, thick, still on the bone. Martyn doesn't know what the cut is called, but he does know he'd steer far away from it in the grocery store. "Hm, not quite," Ren says, takes his first bite. Finally! Well, being able to eat, before anything else. But also answers would be nice. "Okay. What is all this for, then?" "Just me taking more responsibility over you," Ren says, casual. Okay, that's weird. That's weird. Martyn's not looking too much into things, right? "Uh, so, like… in a date-y way, then?" "I suppose… not my intention, but you can take it that way." Ren shrugs. There's nothing else Martyn can think of. Except–he's not asking if this is supposed to be a parent-y way. Fuck no. Not when there's a dickdown in his near future. "Alright–the steak is, like, super good, by the way." It is! Ren's spice blend is fantastic, and it's formed this crust around the meat. The potatoes and asparagus have the juices flowing off the steak onto them, too, and it's just–nice. Martyn does have a habit of eating one food at a time until he's cleared his plate, but he'd been made fun of by his parents for it throughout his childhood that he knows not to do that in front of other people. Instead, he takes a bite of steak, another, and then potatoes, and then asparagus, mixes it up by going back to the potatoes. He's got to eat normally for Ren, after all, right? And Martyn should compliment the rest, yeah. "So's the veggies." Ren finishes up his own bite. "Oh, thank you so much, glad you're enjoying it!" "Um, thank you–for the food. Inviting me over. All that…" Makes Martyn feel bashful, to say it all. "Of course. My pleasure. I suppose… yeah. This wasn't date-y, as you put it. I just–I really wanted to make sure you were okay after Skizz's office. I recall you mentioning in class before that you lose your appetite when you're stressed, so…" When had Martyn said something like that? Was it in class? He wouldn't say something like that to a professor, even one he was fucking. That's, that's too close to a weakness for someone with power over him to exploit. "Oh. Y-yeah. Guess so…" Ren chuckles. "But, yeah. Are you alright after that?" "Yeah. I'm all good. I was more worried than anything else about you 'n Cleo's jobs, to be honest–okay, Skizz's was his own damned fault. But you didn't deserve–" 'the mess I bring, that I always bring' "–any of that. Neither did them." "Very sweet, but we really would've been just fine, you know," Ren says. "I–I didn't like the way he was flexing his power over you. It came off a bit… I shouldn't say that of a colleague." "He likes having control," Martyn says. "He likes it. That's why… that's why we started hooking up. He likes having the control over the situation, and, when he loses it, he'll do anything to get it back, I think." Ren nods, like he's impressed with Martyn's view of Skizz's character. But it's just something Martyn's had to hone over his life. It's nothing too wild. "I see. I'd agree with that." It does make Martyn feel–hm. Maybe, maybe giving Ren a little bit of something. "I guess, actually… um. I was a little bit shaken up. Mostly because of the your jobs thing." "Not your future, Martyn?" Ren asks. Hard to answer that. Martyn knows he shouldn't tell Ren the truth of that. That–Martyn can't really see a future for himself, one where he's in it. He can see how the world would keep turning, how much better Ren's night would've been if Martyn wasn't an active participant in it, but he can't really see enough to care. "Eh? I–probably a bit. Yeah." Weird answer. Ugh. Hopefully Ren doesn't think Martyn too strange, enough to call him out on it. "Uh, huh," Ren murmurs, doesn't say anything else. One of the things Martyn's realized throughout his prolific sex life in uni–professors have a keen knack for edging answers out of students, especially in office hours. Like a video game aura effect that they switch on. Hard to resist, but Martyn's got the practice in by now. "But, um, you–doing so much for me. Um. Caring so much. It's… it's helping. Lots of this feel really isolating, you know? So, um. It's nice not to feel so alone." Damnit, he spilled too much! It does make Ren seem more pleased with him, with his head tilted, attention on Martyn. "I'm quite glad to hear that. You know–if you do continue to feel isolated or alone, you can always come talk to me. I'll be more than happy to hear it." Better than a punch to the face. Martyn doesn't know why he expects it. "I'll keep that in mind… very appreciated, Ren. Er. Professor." "We aren't doing anything. Ren's fine," Ren says. They finish up the rest of the meal; Martyn has to insist to help with the dishes, which is new. Ren wanting to–well, um. Take care of him, or something. And then he gets directed onto the couch, sitting with Ren's arm across the back of it, behind Martyn. He's aware of it. Very, very, very aware. Like his hair is lit on fire behind him and Martyn's not allowed to turn around to confront the arson. Is it–hm. Martyn's not sure how to take it, still. If it's Ren being doting on him or something Martyn should be far more leery of. "I am… ugh. I hate thinking this way, being this way. But, you know," Ren says, reaching his right hand over to squeeze Martyn's thigh–wait, shit, Martyn's on his left, and Ren's lefthanded. That's not good. What if something goes wrong? "Do you… dress this way for my attention, or anybody else's?" Oh, really? His clothes? Of all things. Martyn just, uh. He likes the attention in general, how everybody likes to look to see if his skirt would actually lift enough to catch a glimpse. Likes rolling up the waist right before Ren's class, especially, though, and kneel on the ground when he picks up something so the bulge in his panties is on full display. "Just yours," Martyn lies, so easy. This is a good direction, though, he thinks. Especially when Ren's hand tangles in the back of Martyn's hair, starts to comb. Martyn only keeps it this long, almost touching his shoulders, to give his partners something real nice to yank. "Ah. A relief. What if I told you to cover up, because you look like such a slut and I can't tolerate anybody else catching a glimpse?" A very good direction. Martyn–he really shouldn't, but he likes the possessiveness, he has to admit. "I couldn't," Martyn admits. "I just–well, first, I don't have any other clothes. But also, I do really like it. Um. Feeling cute, sexy." "You really are," Ren says, voice dipping deeper in his throat, flirtatious. And then it pulls out of that. "Although–Martyn. I must ask. How many people was it, alongside me?" The breath catches in Martyn's throat. Shit. Shit. "I can't stop thinking about it. Answer me. How many others?" Martyn's heart starts hammering. He kind of feels more aware of where Ren's body is than his own, down to the direction Ren's feet are tilted. "Uh, just–you, Cleo, Skizz, I think…" "Why are you uncertain?" Ren's just asking about the semester, right? But Martyn doesn't think he should ask that clarifying question. "I'm not. There was nobody else." "Ever?" Oh, fuck. Martyn–he can't pull a convincing tone out of his throat, the right words out his brain. "Martyn." A tug on Martyn's hair, and his eyes whip to Ren's other hand, like he was angling Martyn's face up for a strike, but it's still on his thigh. Just clenching harder. "Tell me. Now. So I know." He can't! "It's not–I, I promised to never say–don't you want me to keep our promises, too, Ren?" Martyn pleads. Ren drags his left hand over Martyn's face, takes his chin, tilts his face so Martyn has to keep eye contact. "We're different. Tell me." "No!" Martyn jerks back, out of Ren's grasp, rushes his ass into a stand. This isn't–this is not a good situation. When the hell did things get so bad? Ren heaves to his feet, too. "Fine. We'll make this happen one way or another." [Give in and confess.] [[renroute6b]] [Refuse.] (Warnings- Dubious consent, ice play) [[renroute6a]]

#renroute6a Martyn refuses. "No, I told you, I keep my promises–" "I'm different," Ren insists. "They aren't broken if you just tell me, Martyn." It's–tempting, it is. It is. "Go get a glass of water from the kitchen," Ren says. "Extra ice in it. Okay, baby?" Obeying the order–well, Martyn might as well. Ren doesn't have doors on his cabinets, for some reason, so the glasses are easy to locate, ice and water out of the refrigerator dispensor, because Ren's just like that. Maybe professors do make money, after all? Martyn always thought they spent it on the clothes. He comes back, settles into the couch again at Ren's look. "Drink up." Fuck. Okay. Martyn does. The action's not sexy, but Ren's control is. "There we go, we'll get you being a good boy again in no time," Ren murmurs. "Now, look at this… what a whorish outfit, huh? Looking like a complete slut. Baby…" The whine Martyn makes in the back of his throat is strangled. "I–I wanted to look nice for you, Professor… wanted to be extra fuckable." Ren shifts Martyn around to where Martyn's legs are draped over Ren's thighs, and his own thighs are spread, showing off the bulge in his panties, framed by his short skirt. "You are, lord, Martyn…" Ren groans. He shoves up Martyn's skirt, tugs at Martyn's panties. His eyebrows knot together, and then–just like that, Martyn's panties are torn off, leaving scraps of fabric in Ren's fist and Martyn's mouth fallen open. "Sir–" "Your fault for not being easily accessible enough," Ren rumbles. "Take the last sip." Martyn obeys. "Glass." It gets passed into Ren's waiting hand, the ice clinking around in it. Martyn did put a lot inside; about ten cubes or so. Martyn only realizes why when Ren digs out an ice cube, presses it into Martyn's hole, slick and open from where he fingered himself earlier, keening out all needy into his pillow. Another, and it's so frigid, making Martyn's insides cramp and twist and ache. Another, another, no matter how much Martyn begs for it to cease. And then–just when Ren finishes the glass– "Go fetch another, baby," Ren says, thrusts it back into Martyn's hands. He has to get up, tries to clench his ass together, but ice water trickles down his thighs, leaving a little puddle behind with each step. It's so humiliating, the way Martyn's cock bounces, hard, under his skirt. And then, when Martyn comes back: "Drink up." It happens–again. Martyn drinking the water, and then more ice shoved inside, Ren's fingers fucking the biting cold deep inside Martyn. Makes him moan, "Oh, oh, oh, Ren–sorry, Professor–" Ren hisses, leans in for a second like he's about to kiss him, and then settles for biting his neck. Goes lower, where his shirt shows off so much of his chest, to nibble that, too. "Oh, there's the last of it. You didn't get as much ice as the first time, though. Go ahead and fill it up, this time, damnit." Once again, Martyn has to shuffle to the kitchen, freezing cold dripping down his clenched thighs where he just can't hold it in, he just can't. When he comes back, though, Ren just laughs at him, the way he's shuffling. "Baby–oh, you're so hard, cruel as I am. I dunno. Do you like this?" It makes Martyn's head spin to think about. Does he like–the meanness, Ren making him hurt. Does he like Ren wanting to know something about him? Does he like–Ren caring? Is this Ren caring, or is it his pride and posessiveness wanting to know? Something about this entire procedure feels like Ren shining a flashlight down Martyn's body cavity, lighting up all his faults from the inside out. It feels like–Ren sees it, and he still looks at Martyn, and no matter how angry and jealous he is, a more amiable emotion reins above everything else. "I–I guess so." Martyn drinks without being bidden. Gulps it down. Hands over the cup, spreads his legs, waits like a good boy. It's so much ice, this time. Martyn can't even feel the stabs of it into his body, just the cramps of his hot ass around freezing cold. His hitches and gasps. Ren's grin. Ren's– "That's it. Now, what to do with you next…" [Give in and spill.] [[renroute7a]] [Spread his legs.] (Warnings- cock & ball torture) [[renroute7b]] [Let Ren tug him over his lap.] (Warnings- impact play) [[renroute7c]] ["Wait, hang on, the water's hitting me, I need to use the bathroom–"] (Warnings- omorashi and piss play) [[renroute7d]] [Let Ren pull down his shirt.] (Warnings- nipple torture) [[renroute7e]] [Watch Ren grab a black box from off the coffee table.] (Warnings- e-stim) [[renroute7f]]

#renroute6b Martyn gives in. The anxiety clouds his throat, the way his feet won't even move to tote him out of Ren's wingspan– "I'll, I'll spill," Martyn murmurs. His hands are shaky. "That's a good boy. You gotta tell me everything, okay?" Ren says, that kindness back to the surface. He tugs Martyn back down to sit. "Okay. Okay…" Martyn sighs. "You know I won't hurt you, right?" Ren says. "I could never do something–actually bad. I could never. You know that?" He nods. "This is just–I need to know. Okay? That's all. And I know you're being so good and brave for me, and I know it's hard to deal with the anxiety, but nothing bad will happen." Ren keeps going, wraps his arms around Martyn, pulls him close, reassuring. And it is–familiar. Comfortable. Ren's not really like most the other professors he's fucked; only people that match, really, are Cleo and Skizz, because they don't shoo him out their office after they cum. All three of them always made him stay, actually. "Okay… Um. So. My… my first semester. There was Jimmy–um. College success? I dunno. He just… we got on super well, and like, two months into the semester, he messed up my grade, so I went to office hours to get it cleared up." "Okay. How did that end up?" Ren asks. "Uh. I was on my knees under his desk. He gave me a hundred on the test, even though I told him he should've given me a ninety-seven, the idiot." "Got it." "And then–I think that was it, for my first semester. Second is when things start to get unhinged, I suppose?" When Martyn looks up, Ren's eyes are wide. "Okay, so–oh, my god, that's right, Keralis. He was doing foreign language? I think I was taking… fuck, I don't remember. Spanish? Anyway. Literally made me stay the first class so he could 'lift my skirt and take a peeksee', I think was how he said it. And then the third class, he got his TA to hold me down as he fucked me." "His TA, xB?" "Yeah, that's his name! Oh, are you and Keralis acquainted?" A long sigh out of Ren. "…Yes." "I see. Um… are you sure you wanna hear all this?" "Yes." "Oh, god–right, the math prereqs. I'm not good at math. And, like, Jimmy did teach me one useful thing in college success to apply to the rest of my career, so… I wound up fucking–who was first, who was first–Impulse, I think? And then–no, wait, that was engineering. Sorry." Martyn has to pause, recollect who was fucking him that time the janitor pounded on the door. "Right! No, I kept swapping through engineering professors. My math prereq class was joint-taught by Impulse and Tango. They wound up sharing me a time or two." "So, the count is at… four, right now?" Martyn nods. "Seems about right. Okay, yeah–intro to engineering. Okay. Um. That was–I think it was… Etho first, right. I fucked him the second class, and then swapped into Mumbo's, fucked him, and then dropped engineering as my major. Seriously, what was I thinking?" No reply from Ren. "Okay. So, after that… Right, uh, the econ instructor. False was one of the nicer ones to me. Um… most of the time, I'd get kicked out right after the fuck, but she always gave me water and snacks." "…Falsie?" "You're familiar with her, too?" Martyn asks. "We're–oh, my god. We almost dated so many times–I can't believe she of all people would, I can't believe her–" Oops. Maybe Martyn should've left her name out? "Well, that's it for my second semester. Of course, occasionally I'd go and visit my former professors. Just, um. When I felt like it." Ren sighs. "Okay. Just… just two more semesters, right? How many more professors could you possibly have sex with in two semesters?" "Uh. Let's see… There was Bigb, the intro to psych professor? I honestly wasn't even sure what was going on there until he had my trousers down, but, like, I had fun. There was also–I got into the clownology class, just 'cause I had an empty slot and an elective that needed filled? Shubble ended up putting a red nose on my balls. Awakened something bizarre in me." Ren nods, traces circles on Martyn's bicep. "Okay…" "Right, yeah–third semester was weird. I fucked… Uh. Doc! Right. He was my intro to bio professor? And, um, he got super mad at me after I wrote all the atom names with the wrong letter capitalized, started yelling, and I asked, 'Are you gonna fuck me about it?' and he got so mad he kissed me. That guy was kind of an asshole, but, like, honestly. Deserved." "…Doc is another one of my best friends…" "Oh, shit, he is? This is rough. I'm sorry." "Just… continue. I've only got so many friends." "Got it. Um–took Graphic Design somewhere in there? With Scott Smajor. I'm pretty sure he was using my nudes I sent him as references for his design examples in the latter half of class. And then–Bdubs, yeah, yeah. He was doing architectural design? Ended up being pretty interesting. Hopped on his cock a few times. And then Grian had to sub in another architectural class–wait, that was… yeah, yeah, my fourth semester. But, yeah. Fucked the dean, too. Uh…" When Martyn looks back up, Ren is stunned. "We're almost done, no worries. I took veternarian science for a bit? I dunno, was feeling frisky… Uh. Zedaph. Probably some more in there. I dunno." "…and then, this is your fifth semester?" "Yeah." "Your undergrad has been…" Ren still seems flabbergasted. "How many professors has it been, total?" "At least–ten." Martyn starts counting on his fingers. "Uh… seventeen? That's a few. Wow. I never thought of it like that." "And I'm just… the latest in the line," Ren states, tone flat. Oh, shit. Martyn swings his thigh over Ren's, flips around, sits in his lap. "You're not," Martyn says, emphatic. "You're really not. I–I… like I said, most professors, they don't–they don't actually care. About me. I think. You always made me stay afterwards, and you made me tell you when my ass hurt the day after, and… you really, really cared." To Martyn's horror–he sniffles after he ends his spiel, eyes beginning to burn with tears. "Were you just searching for someone to care, Martyn?" Ren asks. "Oh, fuck, no, don't say it like that, I don't like that. I–okay. Maybe just a bit. There's also the thing of, um, you're really hot? So. I really like your hair with the grey in it… and I like your hands… and your fat knot that you make me sob around…" Ren's hand scratches up and down Martyn's chest, gentle, more like a pet than anything else. "Tempting me, mm?" "Yeah." Martyn grins. Feels like–for the first time, he's getting control back, from where Ren's had so much over him. Cleo, too, and especially Skizz. Especially Skizz. "Martyn–I must disclose. I did ask you, and I wasn't fully ready for the consequences of what you might have said…" Ren seethes. "I'm so, so angry right now." Martyn flinches back, finds himself trying to leave Ren's lap, gets stopped with a hand gripping his hip. "I won't hurt you, I said, and I stand by that. But–Martyn. Martyn. Fuck. Need to fuck you so good you won't ever think about fucking another professor again. Fucking anybody again." Ren's hands swap to one on Martyn's shoulder, one cupping his ass, and then he shoves Martyn over his own shoulder, stands up–oh, god, Ren's so strong, it's making Martyn's dick throb from where he'd been half-hard through the whole recollection–and then carted off to Ren's bedroom, presumably, watches the living room disappear. [A few seconds later, the bounce of a mattress under his back, and Ren's dark, hungry eyes under his front. ] (Warnings- rough sex) [[renroute8a]]

#renroute8a A few seconds later, the bounce of a mattress under his back, and Ren's dark, hungry eyes under his front. "Are you–god. I can't believe it, almost… except, I do have you in my class. And I've seen your ass." The crude compliments makes Martyn smile, and the humiliation makes him want to hide away behind his hands forever and ever. Maybe in Ren's blankets, his really nice bedspread, his big bed that feels made for capturing poor college kids and giving them a taste of the high life before slapping them on the ass and sending them on their way. "God, I need to–need to put my claim on you–" A little sound out Martyn's throat. Spreads his legs, trying to invite Ren in. And Ren's fingers swirl inside Martyn, where he's loosened up already, three fingers, fast. "But you've never been fucked in a bed before, huh? It's always been in offices, in corners and closets and classrooms–nobody's ever taken their, their goddamned time with you, huh?" "No, no, sir," Martyn says, shakes his head. At this point, more of Ren's hair has come loose out of his ponytail than what's still inside. It's so hot, seeing him a mess, a complete mess over Martyn. "I get–heh. Fucking. Something. I'm still so pissed, Martyn… I can't believe you always lied to me, telling me you were a virgin, just toys…" There's no excuse for that. "I. I just… I really wished you could've been my first, I guess," Martyn says. A hot hiss out of Ren's mouth, like he's taken aback by Martyn's words. "Damnit, damnit–" his fingers jab too hard into Martyn's prostate. "Baby… Dangerous to tell me shit like that. I'll treat you just like it, you know that? Take a poor, virgin boy so hard he can't have a fuck another way?" The breath catches in Martyn's throat, his thighs shake about it. "I, I…" Ren moves over him, takes his shirt in hand. "Wait, hang on, this was a fantastic thrift store find–don't–" Martyn shucks it off as fast as possible, leaves his puffy, oversized nipples, ready for fingers and teeth, he knows. Skizz tells him as much all the time. "Lemme guess, the skirt, too?" Ren asks. Martyn laughs despite himself, strips it off fast as possible, too, leaves it on the floor somewhere. "You owe me a new pair of panties, as is, Professor." "Mm. Guess I do. You want that, baby? Want your professor dressing you up? Maybe then you won't look like such a slut for anybody at all to take if they have at least a master's. You'll just look like mine." Martyn's hips buck up at that like he's not even in control of them, not in control of anything at all. "Fuck, sir, sir–" "Yeah, I figured. God, look at you, so pretty 'n open for me, now… Not hiding behind anything anymore. Can't wait. Can't wait, fuck–" Ren grabs Martyn's thigh, forces him to splay wide open. Lines up his cock, so hard, a deep, thick red, the knot already just starting to bulge at the base. His tail wagging, despite it all, just like every other time he's fucked Martyn. Not dispassionate like Doc or Bigb or even Grian, not–not weirdly eager about it, like Jimmy. He's not like any of them, Martyn thinks, far too gleeful about it, as Ren fucks inside him. "You always take me so well, baby–can't believe I ever thought I was your first, with an ass as talented as this one," Ren says. "You've fucked more days you've attended classes than you haven't, right? Maybe–maybe if you kept up with fucking Doc, he would've made a spreadsheet about it." The words punch out a groan out of Martyn. "R-Ren–" He starts fucking into him, hard, relentless. "Sent around a link to that spreadsheet, so everybody could compare times. How many times you wandered into their office with a plug inside already. Maybe already full of another professor's cum, before you decided to pay them a visit, eh?" "I, I did do that," Martyn confesses, breathy. Loops his arms around Ren's neck. "I–I always did you first, this semester, 'cause you would've smelled out Skizz inside me or Cleo on my face in a heartbeat, so I'd get filled up on you, and then make Skizz fuck it deeper inside, and then eat out Cleo while they crushed my balls under their foot–" Ren gathers both of Martyn's wrists, pins them over his head. Doesn't stop the ruthless pounding, Martyn's precum starting to splatter between them. He's–he's going to cum untouched, is the clear message, and Martyn adores it when Ren makes him. "God. You really are–such. Such a whore. What do you even have to say for yourself? So close to getting kicked out, and, yet…" "It was hot," Martyn grins. Ducks his head at the everything else about it–his empty future, that he doesn't know what he'll even do with the damned piece of paper, how much funner it is in the now, how he'll never have a chance like this again, probably, so he might as well ride it out, enjoy it. Enjoy the attention of the likes of Ren, so handsome, knows how to rub his beard against Martyn's neck before suckling a bite in, another, another. They're too high, but that's never stopped Ren before. Maybe Skizz will see them, see them and know, see them and get jealous–end up pinning Martyn down after class– Wait. Shit. That gives Martyn such a great idea. "Fuck, Skizz, right there–feels so good–" Martyn whines, arches his back up, out. Ren stills entirely, deep in his ass. "Don't you fucking dare pull that shit," Ren growls. "Professor?" Martyn asks, too innocent. Peers up at Ren staring him down. "You–you–" Ren hisses, thrusts hard enough into Martyn to shove him up the bed. "Don't you, it's only, it's only going to be me from now on, you fucking understand?" It's–it's so strange, really. Ren's practically threatening him, teeth bared, sinking into him hard enough to bruise, and Martyn just finds himself relaxing into it, like Ren's taking care of him. Because he is, really, Martyn thinks. Making sure he's taken into account. He'll make sure he cums at the end, even, Martyn's sure–and, later, if Martyn shakes his ass and begs for it, he'll spank him, and maybe he'll make him breakfast, too, make a joke about needing to make sure Martyn's drinking more than enough water from now on, and– God. God, Martyn's so fucked up. He's known it for a while, but the realization just hits him again and again. He's so fucked up, and he's dragging Ren down with him, too. But Martyyn gets startled out of those thoughts by teeth sinking into his lips–oh, shit, Ren's forceful version of a kiss, making his lip split and a bit of blood come out. "Shut the fuck up with all that," Ren says, eyebrows scrunched harder than that time he chewed out a classmate for using AI to write a paper, and it just makes Martyn feel safe. Really, really safe. "Yes, Professor," Martyn agrees, kisses him back. Doesn't want to mention anybody else anymore, how it was so rare he'd get a kiss. How they'd agree to fuck him raw before wanting to have a kiss, sometimes. "Please–you, you can have me, all to yourself–please, sir–" Ren sighs, something softening, his thrusts turning to grinds–his, his knot forming, pressing further, all the way inside, filling up, filling up all of Martyn all the way. The pressure against Martyn's prostate is enough to make him cum, too, curl his arms around Ren's neck and cry into the crook of his shoulder and his cum splatter Ren's hairy belly. Once Ren's done panting through his, he–he either takes notice or just gets the breath to say, "You're all good, baby, you're all good–" "Professor-r-r," Martyn sobs. Ren freezes under his body, before he starts to rearrange Martyn to something more comfortable, reaches into his nighstand for wet wipes. "You can–you're in my bed, now. It can be. It can be just Ren." It's weird, having sex with somebody, and then they want him to stop calling them 'professor.' Very weird. "Oh… are you. Are you sure?" "Yeah," and Ren wipes them both off, tosses the cloth afterwards. Um. Somewhere. And he really does feel–taken apart, and at least somewhat put back together again. Feels like he can trust Ren with the pieces that are still askew, with his heavy arm over his middle, his hand that runs through Martyn's treasure trail. [In the days that come–things do change, quite a bit.] [[renrouteend3]]

#renroute7b Martyn spreads his legs, lets his skirt ride up. "Maybe you could just jerk me off about things…" Ren snorts. "Nah." And he holds Martyn's balls, thumbs over them, the air shared and intimate. Starts to squeeze. Makes Martyn arch his back, squeal, "Ren–Ren, please–oh, God–" "Does it hurt?" "Yes! Yes, yes, yes–" "Well, what do you wanna do, then?" Ren asks. Squeezes harder. [Give in and spill.] [[renroute7a]] [Let Ren tug him over his lap.] (Warningse impact play) [[renroute7c]] ["Wait, hang on, the water's hitting me, I need to use the bathroom–"] (Warnings- omorashi and piss play) [[renroute7d]] [Let Ren pull down his shirt.] (Warnings- nipple torture) [[renroute7e]] [Watch Ren grab a black box from off the coffee table.] (Warnings- e-stim) [[renroute7f]]

#renroute7c A hand on his wrist; Martyn lets it happen, lets Ren tug him over his lap. His ass gets groped, the skirt pushed up, bared, in such a humiliating position. The first strike makes Martyn jump; the second makes his cock throb. The third makes his cock drool, splattering onto the floor. Over and over again until Martyn's ass is burning, Ren's cupped hand makes contact, makes Martyn yelp and flinch and keen. And then he goes back to groping, squeezing, Martyn's ass throbbing with it, making him gasp and moan. "That'll fade in no time," Ren sighs, wistful. "If I see it all normal again, though, and I don't have what I want–I'll get out the belt. Understood?" The threat makes Martyn shiver, his dick jerk up again. Fun, but, also–hm– [Give in and spill.] [[renroute7a]] [Spread his legs.] (Warnings- cock & ball torture) [[renroute7b]] [Let Ren tug him over his lap.] (Warnings- impact play) [[renroute7c]] ["Wait, hang on, the water's hitting me, I need to use the bathroom–"] (Warnings- omorashi and piss play) [[renroute7d]] [Let Ren pull down his shirt.] (Warnings- nipple torture) [[renroute7e]] [Watch Ren grab a black box from off the coffee table.] (Warnings- e-stim) [[renroute7f]]

#renroute7d "Wait, hang on, the water's hitting me, I need to use the bathroom–" Martyn says. He makes to get up, and Ren snags him around the waist, hauls him back down. "What makes you think I'll just get up 'n let you?" Ren asks. "No. Go fetch another glass of water." Another one? Whatever. Martyn picks up the glass and goes, again. Fills it up one more time. Brings it back. Ren re-sitituates him in his lap, creeps his hand up his skirt. "Go ahead 'n start drinking that for me, baby," he purrs. Starts jerking him off. Martyn drinks it up in sips, having to restrain his moans at even the light amount of groping and touching; Ren had started to ignore his cock in favor of his ass, deliberately–training him just right, he's said, and Martyn's inclined to agree. Very inclined to get hard about it. "Mm, I bet that feels so nice, doesn't it?" Ren asks, chuckles about it. "Getting jerked off with your bladder so, so full…" Oh, shit. Martyn–he won't really be able to piss with his dick this hard. Damnit! But he still obeys. Drinks the last bit of his water. Abides by Ren's easy smile. Until– "Please, I need to pee, let me pee…" "Mm? No, no, no, baby. Not unless you give me a name." Fuck! "Please…" Ren ends up jerking him off until Martyn's about to cum, and then backing off, leaving him hard and needy and unsatisfied. He's still smiling like he's amused, but his eyes are hard–there's no way Martyn can get mercy out of him at this point. "Let it go, let's get you settled," Ren says, instead. "And, just so you know–there is a very, very easy way to get out of this." But Martyn just can't yet. He just can't, and the thought does help a lot with softening him up. "Can I go now…" Martyn asks, voice a shy mumble. Ren's voice is filled with glee. "Oh! I suppose you can." It does the absolute opposite of reassure Martyn. "O-okay." "Here's the rules. You get to pee, for as long as I say you can," Ren says, fetches–oh, no, the glass, Martyn sees where this is going, "And then, when I stay stop, you have to obey that. Understood?" Martyn nods one more time, heart fluttering in his chest. Ren holds the glass under his cockhead, both their gazes intent on it. "I–it's too much attention, I can't," Martyn mumbles. "I can't pee, please–" "I'm sure you can, baby," Ren replies. Lays a hand on Martyn's bladder, starts to push down. It makes Martyn shiver, and then a reluctant little stream starts, a little dribble into the bottom of the glass. Despite the glasses of water, it's a darker yellow, and, and he really hopes Ren doesn't– "Not hydrated enough?" "Shush," Martyn whines. The stream stops. All Ren says is, "We'll have to work on that." The thing Martyn wants to say, can't–both Ren and Skizz gave him this, this piss kink this semester. Fucking him when he needed to pee, that one time Skizz saw him about to slip out of lecture and he knew damned well why Martyn got up but he still called, 'Mr. Inthelittlewood, sit back down until I'm done,' which was both the most embarrassing and also hottest thing ever. Especially when combined with being fucked until he needed to piss, bundling up a towel in Skizz's office to relieve himself into while Skizz kept pounding him. Those memories make Martyn's dick twitch. Makes Ren go, "Martyn, do we need a repeat of earlier?" "No, no, no, sir, no," Martyn mumbles. "Keep going. And don't get hard." Martyn manages to start the stream again (him if he were a content creator on Twitch, he thinks to himself with a muffled snort) and fills up the glass to about halfway, a bit over– "That's enough. Stop, now. God, Martyn, honestly, how much coffee do you drink?" This unique flourish of embarrassment through him at the chiding of his urine color. "Um, I–um–" "This smells terrible, too. Was my house the first time you've had water all day?" Ren asks. "…yeah." "God. Seems like you haven't had any in days, honestly!" Martyn laughs, like that's silly and he definitely has been keeping up with like, dumb hydration needs or whatever. "I bet this will be a great lesson in that regard, too, baby," Ren says, voice pitching back down. "Drink that up for me. Unless you have a name to give me?" Oh. Oh, fuck. Martyn doesn't miss the way Ren licks his lips, getting off to this, too. "I'm serious. I can get you a funnel gag, if you refuse for too long." It does make–make Martyn. Want to. Please him. Makes him pick up the glass, go to sip. "Ew!" Ren just watches, face propped up on his hand. And Martyn doesn't have a choice. Tries not to taste the sour bitterness, horrible taste and smell–fuck, fuck, fuck, why is he twitching about it? "Oh, your breath is disgusting, baby," Ren says. "I don't want to deal with that. You're not allowed to piss in there, but I do have a spare toothbrush set out for you in the bathroom–over there, down the hall on the left, other side of the thermostat. Go brush your teeth, have another think about how inevitable you telling me what I want to know is, and come back, got it?" "Yes, sir," Martyn mumbles. It'll be nice to get the rancid taste out of his mouth, for sure. Obeys, fast, comes back. "It'll be so easy to just tell me what I want to know," Ren says, helps situate Martyn on the couch to what they were. "Unless you want me to keep this up?" [Give in and spill.] [[renroute7a]] [Spread his legs.] (Warnings- cock & ball torture) [[renroute7b]] [Let Ren tug him over his lap.] (Warnings- impact play) [[renroute7c]] [Let Ren pull down his shirt.] (Warnings- nipple torture) [[renroute7e]] [Watch Ren grab a black box from off the coffee table.] (Warnings- e-stim) [[renroute7f]]

#renroute7e Martyn's shirt gets pulled down, Ren's fingers creeping along his chest, either pec, cups them. "What a pretty boy, eh?" Ren asks. It's a little bit embarrassing, and Martyn doesn't really–well. He really doesn't want to say this reminds him of Cleo, her fixation on his chest, making his nipples so sensitive where a professor hasn't ever cared about that in the past. Of course, Ren's all heedless of that, the fact that Martyn does–miss them. A little bit. Thinks about the office for a second, gets cut off by Ren pinching his nipples, making him keen. "These really are so sensitive, aren't they?" Ren marvels, keeps groping Martyn. "Your cute tits… you ever try cumming off them, baby?" Martyn nods, scared of what sounds will come out of his throat if he opens his mouth. Cleo–Cleo did that, made him put gels and creams on his nipples and then pasties overtop that, sit in their class while they had a knowing smile at the tingles through Martyn's entire chest. "So cute… You like it when they hurt, too?" For emphasis, Ren twists both his nipples at the same time, and Martyn arches his back to try to get out of it–counterintuitive, he knows, but deal!–and his hands twitch and he can't muster up much more than that to try to escape. "Uh huh," Martyn mumbles, feels his mouth hang open. "Well, do I have something fun for you," Ren chirps, reaches into the coffee table drawer, pulls out these mean looking clamps. "These are called clover clamps, baby. And they hurt. A lot. You ready for all that?" Pain, on his nipples–Martyn shudders, nods. One gets attached, Ren letting the pressure increase gradually, and Martyn–the burn shoots through him, more and more, worse and worse, makes him whimper. Subsides after a little bit, but not too much. He pants at it, both hands clamped around Ren's wrist. "That's the wrong hand if you're trying to hold me back, baby," Ren murmurs, and then attaches the other one. Same as the first–keeps it slow, applying more pressure until Martyn's nipple feels like it's about to fall off–and then lets both of them hang. Even just the weight of the clamp itself makes it worse, makes Martyn whine, like his chest really is about to fall off his body. Ren starts pulling at the skin around the clamps, massaging what he can–it just makes everything even worse, makes Martyn try to shove his hands away and Ren just laughs, gathers up his wrists in one hand and keeps torturing him with the other. "So, so cute, when you try to fight like that," Ren says. "Why don't we try to get you to the edge, now, just like this?" His fingers of his free hand go to Martyn's other nipple, start–start jostling the clamp, kind of like he's jacking him off, like that one time he was jacking off Martyn's balls to tease him–and, and it. It does start to build up that peak inside Martyn. Has him begging in no time, "Ren, Ren, please–please let me cum–" And Ren backs off, stops touching. "You know what to say if you want me to let you, sweetheart." [Give in and spill.] [[renroute7a]] [Spread his legs.] (Warnings- cock & ball torture) [[renroute7b]] [Let Ren tug him over his lap.] (Warnings- impact play) [[renroute7c]] ["Wait, hang on, the water's hitting me, I need to use the bathroom–"] (Warnings- omorashi and piss play) [[renroute7d]] [Watch Ren grab a black box from off the coffee table.] (Warnings- e-stim) [[renroute7f]]

#renroute7f Martyn watches Ren grab a black box from off the coffee table, crack it open. "This is a rudimentary kit, but… have you ever been shocked, Martyn?" "Uh. One time, glue got all over an old extension cord I was messing with, and I didn't realize it was on the prongs until it electrocuted me," Martyn laughs. Ren gapes at him. "What the hell?" Uh, let's just move along, here. "Uh, I didn't get hurt, I was fine! Anyway.Are you about to… shock my world?" He rolls his eyes, chuckles, knocks Martyn's knees apart to access–past his cock, his ass. Fetches what looks like a special lube from the box, spreads it over his fingers, slips two inside Martyn's ass. "Oh, still a little bit chilly," Ren remarks. "That's fine. It'll be all heated up in no time." Something comfortable, familiar, in Ren's fingers in his ass. Sometimes, when Martyn's alone in his room, crying over something or another, he imagines Ren, or Cleo, or Skizz–mostly them three, since they're on the current sex roster–telling him to shut the fuck up, that he doesn't need to be crying unless it's from them, that it's meaningless otherwise. Sometimes, it's even enough to get him to shut up. "Feels so good," Martyn hums. Tilts his hips up when Ren drives into his prostate, start massaging it. "Oh, you always turn into such a mess when I get your prostate," Ren laughs. "Just the cutest thing, you know that?" Martyn turns away, covers his face with his hand. Just tyring to hide. Just a little bit. He wants Ren to tear his wrist away, but, instead, this plug gets extracted, connected to something that looks like a battery pack inside the box. Martyn should ask questions, make sure it's okay, that he won't get electrocuted and die, but, honestly, if something like that were to happen, it'd be pretty difficult for Skizz to blackmail him from beyond the grave. It's a thick plug, almost as big as Ren's dick, and Ren just–just shoves it in. It makes his hole burn a little with the stretch, before it calms down. The pain's nice, though, comforting, too. Just as much as a slap in the face would be, if Ren gave it. "Let's get this turned on, then," Ren says. Clicks the box on. This low thrill hums through Martyn, his–his prostate, coiling the pleasure in his ass into this pounding force in his dick, balls. "Up bup bup, we aren't touching any of that right now," Ren says, catches Martyn's wayward hand. "There we go. Good boy. Those little tingles feel so good, don't they?" He nods, hard. "Wanted to show you this as a reward, actually," Ren continues. Starts turning a knob on the box–turning it up, making Martyn's ass buzz with the shocks. It's overwhelming, but not, but not that bad; Martyn thinks he might cum, honestly, that warm feeling twisting in his stomach, making him feel better and better– "And, that's enough, I think," Ren says, flips the box's switch. Everything stops, and Martyn can't help bucking the air like that'll get it back. His needy, pathetic behavior makes Ren grin. "Unless you've got something to tell me?" he asks, taking everything out of Martyn's ass, putting all the equipment on the coffee table. [Give in and spill.] [[renroute7a]] [Spread his legs.] (Warnings- cock & ball torture) [[renroute7b]] [Let Ren tug him over his lap.] (Warnings- impact play) [[renroute7c]] ["Wait, hang on, the water's hitting me, I need to use the bathroom–"] (Warnings- omorashi and piss play) [[renroute7d]] [Let Ren pull down his shirt.] (Warnings- nipple torture) [[renroute7e]]

#renroute7a Martyn gives in. The anxiety clouds his throat, the way his feet won't even move to tote him out of Ren's wingspan– "I'll, I'll spill," Martyn murmurs. His hands are shaky. "That's a good boy. You gotta tell me everything, okay?" Ren says, that kindness back to the surface. He tugs Martyn back down to sit, settle over his thighs. "Okay. Okay…" Martyn sighs. "You know I won't hurt you, right?" Ren says. "I could never do something–actually bad. I could never. You know that?" He nods. "This is just–I need to know. Okay? That's all. And I know you're being so good and brave for me, and I know it's hard to deal with the anxiety, but nothing bad will happen." Ren keeps going, wraps his arms around Martyn, pulls him close, reassuring. And it is–familiar. Comfortable. Ren's not really like most the other professors he's fucked; only people that match, really, are Cleo and Skizz, because they don't shoo him out their office after they cum. All three of them always made him stay, actually. "Okay… Um. So. My… my first semester. There was Jimmy–um. College success? I dunno. He just… we got on super well, and like, two months into the semester, he messed up my grade, so I went to office hours to get it cleared up." "Okay. How did that end up?" Ren asks. Well. "Uh. I was on my knees under his desk. He gave me a hundred on the test, even though I told him he should've given me a ninety-seven, the idiot." Ren's keeping the emotion out of his voice, Martyn knows it. "Got it." "And then–I think that was it, for my first semester. Second is when things start to get unhinged, I suppose?" When Martyn looks up, Ren's eyes are wide. Like he thought Jimmy was the end of it. Very, very funny. "Okay, so–oh, my god, that's right, Keralis. He was doing foreign language? I think I was taking… fuck, I don't remember. Spanish? Anyway. Literally made me stay the first class so he could 'lift my skirt and take a peeksee', I think was how he said it. And then, like, the third class, he got his TA to hold me down as he fucked me." "His TA, xB?" "Yeah, that's his name! Oh, are you and Keralis acquainted?" A long sigh out of Ren. "…Yes." Wait, Ren's gonna know these people? Oh, shit. "I see. Um… are you sure you wanna hear all this?" "Yes." The answer comes right away. "Oh, god–right, the math prereqs. I'm not good at math. And, like, Jimmy did teach me one useful thing in college success to apply to the rest of my career, so… I wound up fucking–who was first, who was first–Impulse, I think? And then–no, wait, that was engineering. Sorry." Martyn has to pause, recollect who was fucking him that time the janitor pounded on the door. "Right! No, I kept swapping through engineering professors. My math prereq class was joint-taught by Impulse and Tango. They wound up sharing me a time or two." "So, the count is at… four, right now?" Martyn nods. "Seems about right. Okay, yeah–intro to engineering. Okay. Um. That was–I think it was… Etho first, right. I fucked him the second class, and then swapped into Mumbo's, fucked him, and then dropped engineering as my major. Seriously, what was I thinking?" No reply from Ren. "Okay. So, after that… Right, uh, the econ instructor. False, uh, False Symmetry was one of the nicer ones to me. Um… most of the time, I'd get kicked out right after the fuck, but she always gave me water and snacks." "…Falsie?" "You're familiar with her, too?" Martyn asks. Ren's mouth is dropped open. "We're–oh, my god. We almost dated so many times–I can't believe she of all people would, I can't believe her–" Oops. Maybe Martyn should've left her name out? "Well, that's it for my second semester. Of course, occasionally I'd go and visit my former professors. Just, um. When I felt like it." Ren sighs. "Okay. Just… just two more semesters, right? How many more professors could you possibly have sex with in two semesters?" "Uh. Let's see… There was Bigb, the intro to psych professor? I honestly wasn't even sure what was going on there until he had my trousers down, but, like, I had fun. Sure as hell didn't say no. There was also–I got into the clownology class, just 'cause I had an empty slot and an elective that needed filled? Shubble ended up putting a red nose on my balls. Awakened something bizarre in me. That's probably why I've never argued with a good ball squeeze." Ren nods, traces circles on Martyn's bicep, but Martyn thinks it's more for Ren than for him. "Okay…" "Right, yeah–third semester was weird. I fucked… Uh. Doc! Right. He was my intro to bio professor? And, um, he got super mad at me after I wrote all the atom names with the wrong letter capitalized, started yelling, and I asked, 'Are you gonna fuck me about it?' and he got so mad he kissed me. That guy was kind of an asshole, but, like, honestly. Deserved, considering it's me he's dealing with." Ren doesn't say anything about the Martyn-typical self-deprication. "…Doc is another one of my best friends…" How does this keep happening to Martyn? Especially, like, since he thought professors generally only made friends within their departments. "Oh, shit, he is? This is rough. I'm sorry." "Just… continue. I've only got so many friends." Ren tries to laugh. "Got it. Um–took Graphic Design somewhere in there? With Scott Smajor. I'm pretty sure he was using my nudes I sent him as references for his design examples in the latter half of class. I hope he still does. And then–Bdubs, yeah, yeah. He was doing architectural design? History? Ended up being pretty interesting. Hopped on his cock a few times. And then Grian had to sub in another architectural class–wait, that was… yeah, yeah, my fourth semester. But, yeah. Fucked the dean, too, ha. Uh…" When Martyn looks back up, Ren is stunned. Poor guy's gotta be exhausted with Martyn's spiel. "We're almost done, no worries. I took veterinarian science for a bit, too, before the clown class? I dunno, was feeling frisky… Uh. Zedaph, was that professor. Probably some more in there. I dunno." "…and then, this is your fifth semester, now?" "Yeah." "Your undergrad has been…" Ren still seems flabbergasted. "How many professors has it been, total?" "At least–ten." Martyn starts counting on his fingers. "Uh… seventeen? That's a few. Wow. I never thought of it like that." "And I'm just… the latest in the line," Ren states, tone flat. Oh, shit. Martyn swings his thigh over Ren's, flips around, sits in his lap. "You're not," Martyn says, emphatic. "You're really not. I–I… like I said, most professors, they don't–they don't actually care. About me. I think. I'm just something hot and convenient to fuck, and that's fine, but, you–um. You always made me stay afterwards, and you made me tell you when my ass hurt the day after, and… you really, really cared." To Martyn's horror–he sniffles after he ends his spout of stupid shit, eyes beginning to burn with tears. And then, endlessly emphathetic, "Were you just searching for someone to care, Martyn?" Ren asks. "Oh, fuck, no, don't say it like that, I don't like that. I–okay. Maybe just a bit. There's also the thing of, um, you're really hot? So. I really like your hair with the grey in it… and I like your hands… and your fat knot that you make me sob around…" Ren's hand scratches up and down Martyn's chest, gentle, more like a pet than anything else. "Tempting me, mm?" "Yeah." Martyn grins. Feels like–for the first time, he's getting control back, from where Ren's had so much over him. Cleo, too, and especially Skizz. Especially Skizz. And then the nails start to dig in deeper. "Martyn–I must disclose. I did ask you, and I wasn't fully ready for the consequences of what you might have said…" Ren seethes. "I'm so, so angry right now." Martyn flinches back, finds himself trying to leave Ren's lap, gets stopped with a hand gripping his hip. "I won't hurt you, I said, and I stand by that. But–Martyn. Martyn. Fuck. Need to fuck you so good you won't ever think about fucking another professor again. Fucking anybody again." Ren's hands swap to one on Martyn's shoulder, one cupping his ass, and then he shoves Martyn over his own shoulder, stands up–oh, god, Ren's so strong, it's making Martyn's dick throb from where he'd been half-hard through the whole recollection–and then carted off to Ren's bedroom, presumably, watches the living room disappear. [A few seconds later, the bounce of a mattress under his back, and Ren's dark, hungry eyes under his front. ] (Warnings- rough sex) [[renroute8a]]

#renrouteend3 In the days that come–things do change, quite a bit. The next day, waking up in his arms–in anybody's arms–Ren apologizes for the 'heinous' way he acted, and it's only Martyn's insistence that it was fine that makes Ren relax. Regardless, Martyn isn't allowed around the other two professors for sex. He can only be Ren's, and the thought should not make him as horny as it does. He gets through undergrad, not fucking any other professors, and nobody ever finds out. Well–okay, admittedly, it is pretty suspicious when he marries his old professor after grad school (that he was his mentor through, by the way) but nobody wants to say anything about it. Anybody that might have didn't get invited to the courthouse ceremony, and Martyn doesn't even bother telling his parents a lick of it. They'll find out he's married when they find out. (Also, Martyn wears his collar like a second wedding band (well, it was the first, technically) and all around looks super cute. Surprisingly enough, though, when he goes to teach, Martyn is very, very firm about not fucking students. Even as he gets solicited at least once a semester. Ren does laugh about it when Martyn comes home, though, right before getting him over his knee and scolding Martyn for being such a brat to an old man, and it's even better than it was that night, back in undergrad.

#skizzmartynroute I cannot stick around for any of this, I need to get out, Martyn realizes. Because they're going to question him further, dig deep, and– Once Skizz peels away to type on his computer, Martyn dashes out from under his arm, snags his bag on the way out the door–because that has his laptop in it, damnit! Footsteps pound behind him, but nobody shouts; and Martyn just–if he can get out of here, if he doesn't have to deal with any of this, he will. Oh. The digital trail. All the evidence Martyn has left. Fuck. He finds an unlocked classroom, slips inside, angles himself to where the beam of his laptop won't give him away, and he goes through, deletes everything he can. 'Accidental' nude submissions, email chains, text messages, anything and everything. Fuck. But there's just so much. Martyn's not certain at all he got everything, or even most of it. Is there any good to destroying his laptop? Eh, probably not. After a while, though, he slinks back out. [Just gotta get home, and hope that worst doesn't come to pass.] [[skizzmartynrouteend]]

#skizzroute2a Skizz concludes his typing, pushes his keyboard forward under the monitor to get it out of the way. "So? What do you all have to say for yourselves, you two?" "What the hell?" Cleo gasps, throws their crossed arms apart, looks like they're about ready to tackle. "With all due respect–which, to clarify, is very little–who died and appointed you our lecturer? Who made you the decider of our fates? You made the same fuck up we did!" Skizz can't even formulate a response before– "You–you just called us in here while face-fucking a student under your desk, dude. That's not cool! I bet Martyn didn't consent to that," Ren growls. Martyn shrugs. "I didn't beforehand, no, but it was hot as hell until the scolding started, to be honest. So, I'm fine." Cleo shakes their head. "Yeah– if he were less of a whore, you could have really hurt him, Skizz." Hey! Unfair to the kid, Skizz thinks. But Martyn doesn't seem to mind, the way he moans just barely, throws his hand over his mouth to contain anything more. Skizz looks over to him, can't hold back a smirk. It drops when–Martyn reaches down, finds Skizz's cock where it's still out and laying between the folds of his untucked shirt. He takes it in hand, makes Skizz's stomach swoop, filled with swirling guilt and arousal, both. His spluttered arguments come a moment later. "–H–hey! Hey! You're all jerks who're just trying to save yourselves. This is pure cognitive dissonance in–in action. You both know how inappropriate this is, how we should all be fired on the spot, and–" Martyn gives a little nod just on Skizz's periphery, and Ren and Cleo come closer, begin crowding the desk with–malice, something like it, in their gazes. Martyn's hand slides over warm, damp skin. ["Hey! Hey, not everyone ganging up on me!" (kinks- bondage)] [[skizzroute4a]]

There's been this creeping discomfort in the back of Skizz's skull this whole time, something he couldn't put his finger on. But he's just realized it. He pushes his keyboard away, turns to look at– "Martyn. I notice that you're pretty skilled at... all of this. I mean, you've got three professors munching your ass this semester. You know what that tells me?" Skizz pauses, just for a beat. "I think this has happened before." Martyn's face tenses– his brows knitting, lips pursing into a pouty frown. "It hasn't! No, no. Come on, professor, I'm innocent." Skizz sees Cleo roll her eyes. Ren's eyes are glued to Martyn, he's spinning his watch around his wrist. "Yes!" Skizz cries. "You are innocent. You're just a student–it's our dumbasses who've fucked up in this situation. But who's made you like this, Martyn? Who made you think this is okay?" Martyn scoffs, turns away from the conversation and looks out the window instead. "I want to know. Can you tell us who else decided to take you up on your offers? They need to be brought to justice." He hesitates. He hesitates for seconds on seconds. But Skizz sees it in his eyes. Martyn knows this is right, he knows that the situation is bad and people need to face the consequences. ["I had a, uh, particularly interesting time in my Psych 101 class."] [[skizzroute3a]] ["It's all Dr. Doc's fault!"] [[skizzroute3b]] ["I blew my architecture professor one time."] [[skizzroute3c]] ["The economics prof, what was her name, again? Um. It started with an S and ended in Y."] [[skizzroute3d]] ["That engineering professor: Mx. Slab."] [[skizzroute3e]] ["Well, there was this incident with the vice dean..."] [[skizzroute3f]]

#skizzmartynrouteend For the next few days, Martyn gets no sleep. Absolutely none. He has his phone play, of all things, those shitty drama channels breaking down poor house remodeling videos, and it's occasionally distracting but not near enough. That's why Martyn sees the email notification, from the dean's office, requesting his presence. He knew it was coming, but he still can't help the tremors that envelope his entire body–he's, he's going to get expelled, and he's gotten his professors fired and he's ruined everybody's lives, they hate him, they hate him. But he goes. His hands shake, and he goes. Grian, the dean of the department, is there; Martyn meets his eyes for a second, remembers facing him here just a year ago and pressing his chest together for Grian to jack off onto, and then suckling his cockhead and grinning through it at him. Grian has to remember the same, but he doesn't show it. Skizz, Ren, and Cleo are all also here, looking–worse for wear. Guilt clings to Martyn's back at the whole thing. He wants to run. Doesn't. Grian jogs his papers, whatever those contain. "Martyn, you do realize what you've done here, right?" Martyn gives his best chuckle. "Done what, sir?" No amusement to be found. "Having sexual relations with your professors. We have insurmountable proof of it, along with three confessions. What do you have to say for yourself?" Fuck, he can't meet anybody's eyes. This is worst case scenario. He just–he gives the best spiel that he can. "It just–it just happened, over and over. I'm just… I never sought out my professors intentionally, it just kept happening–and we made sure it never impacted my academics, please, I don't want to get kicked out–" "If you cease this, we might be able to consider academic probation," Grian says. For Martyn. For himself. But he glances around at his professors, and all of them–they all look like they've lost everything. Which. Which they might just have. Because of Martyn. "…Are. Are they all going to get fired?" Grian nods. "Yes. They commited a severe infraction, and even though they confessed, it's still–" Martyn–the pressure's building in his head, behind his eyes. "Do I still need to be here?" "You'll be sent a letter with your next actions–" "Can I go?" Martyn asks, his voice cracking on the last word. "Uh, there's just–oh, Mr. Inthelittlewood…" To his horror, Martyn starts bawling on the spot, in front of the mentors he's gone and fucked over. After that, even though Martyn fought to stay, he just. He ends up dropping out. Running from his problems yet again.

#skizzroute4a "Martyn, stop that. Ren, hold him down." Cleo instructs. "Hey! Hey, not everybody ganging up on me!" Skizz cries. Ren surges forward, grabs Skizz by the biceps. It's a hold he could totally get out of–for the record–but to do so would escalate the situation further. Cleo stalks around the desk, unhooking their belt like–holy shit– like Skizz is about to get a face full of cock. The wayward thought has Skizz's dick twitching. But no, no, they're pulling it from their belt loops, using it to bind Skizz's arms down to the arms of his office chair. She gets Ren to use his for the same purpose. Martyn, at his feet, is doing something with his shoes and the legs of the chair so he can't move his ankles, either. This is all far less sexual. Of course. And all the while, they scold– "You'd really hand over our jobs for us? Have us all unemployed in this economy?" Cleo shakes their head. "We made a serious mistake, Cleo!" Skizz grumbles. "And what about Martyn's scholarship program, Skizz? Do you even know about it? He could lose so much, even if he gets probation instead of being expelled. Seriously. You tell us to think of the consequences that our actions could have but you know nothing of your own." Their voice is cold, biting. "That's–" Skizz swallows. "That's terribly unfortunate. I never want Martyn to be hurt in all this. He's– the school wouldn't want to make his life worse, either! We're the problems." Martyn laughs where he's standing up. His young face is still all red, lips bitten, fuck– "Come on, professor. Don't lie, you know I'm a problem, too. But none of us need to be turned in." "Of–of course we should! This isn't right–" Ren fiddles with his watch, circles his finger around the casing. Nervous habit, Skizz knows. "When did you figure that? The first, maybe the second time you fucked him? But you did it all anyways, didn't you." Skizz barely has the breath to laugh. Fuck, god, he absolutely fucking knows he's done wrong here too. "I did! I did. I'm a piece of shit, Ren. Is that what you wanna hear? This ain't convincing me to wash my hands of my mistake!" Ren winces. "I–no, I know it isn't, I don't want you to–" Skizz jolts at a hand being placed on his chest, ran down his arm. It's Martyn–his words seem to reverberate into Skizz's heart where it's currently falling apart. "This isn't persuading you, no. But maybe there's another way?" Skizz looks down, looks where Martyn's hand is heading again. Sees how stupid hard he is right now. Oh–oh my god. He feels his face heat up like a damn virgin. "Hah! Look at you," Cleo snorts. The admonishment does nothing for his hard-on, sudden masochistic streak activated in this moment. Clebert is damn good at being mean in a sexy way. "Really? Still? Now?" Ren breathes a laugh, too. "Oh, wow. Um. Want us to take care of that for you? While you rethink your little justice plan?" ["...Yeah. Yeah I think I could be convinced."] [[skizzroute5a]] ["No!! Of course not!!"] [[skizzroute5b]]

#skizzroute5a "...Yeah. Yeah I think I could be convinced." Skizz has to admit: the chance to get his mind off of things he's done wrong does spark relief throughout his body, though all his old, aching joints. "I feel like I'm in a DVD porno with the most weirdly serious plot ever!" Ren laughs, his eyes alight. "Are we not? Let's hope the filmmaking's good, baby." "I'm sure you've both seen a lot of those," Cleo snips. They roll their eyes, but it's playful. They don't seem mad at where this has gone–probably excited for the action. "So you should know how to get to business. C'mon." They instruct. Martyn's a fast learner, like always. He grabs his skirt waistband, pushes it down his thighs to expose his hard cock inside sheer panties. Skizz pulls at his wrist restraints without thinking, tries to get a hand on him on instinct. Ren sinks to his knees. Wisps of hair not tied back float with the motion, settle over his shoulders. "Fuck, you're a nice sight down there, diggity. I didn't know." Skizz groans. "Isn't he?" Cleo smirks. They're taking off their jacket, unbuttoning their shirt. "Go ahead and suck his cock, Ren. I know you want to. But go slow." Skizz licks his lips, breathes out hot breath. Fuck, he's sandwiched on all sides by beautiful, sexy people. Martyn jerking himself off, panting like he needs to cum yesterday. Ren licking a stripe up his shaft. Cleo's gorgeous tits peeking through their crisp dress shirt. And his wrists are stuck down, leaving him unable to do anything about it at all. In the distance, the student section rumbles and the sun starts to set over the field. Skizz is thankful to miss a game, for once. Especially when Cleo sticks their nipples in his face, tells him to lick and suck but bite only gently. How can he give this up? How can he think any of it to be wrong? When Martyn whines like he's ready to cum, Cleo has another brilliant direction to give. They back away, breath labored, tell Martyn to rub right there, just like that, and to cum on his professor's face. Skizz moans from deep within himself. "Y-yeah. Yeah Martyn. Please cum on me. Cum on my face, please," Skizz babbles. "It's so good–so good to be on top, teach," Martyn groans, this smirk to his voice. "H-hah. I think if I asked you before you would have let me, though." Ren laughs, rumbling around the head of Skizz's cock. Cleo laces their fingers in Skizz's hair to pull, to force his gaze down the barrel of Martyn's dick. Not a bad place to be, not at all. Skizz could really get used to it: his student's warm load hitting the bridge of his nose, coating his cheek, rolling through his eyelashes. He opens his mouth, hopes to capture some to taste. Martyn aims away from his tongue. Skizz cums in Ren's mouth with a moan. Cums again at home, that evening, into his palm. [But it doesn't happen again.] [[skizzrouteend1]]

#skizzroute5b "No! Of course not!" Skizz cries. As hard as he is, fuck. Fuck! It'd just be so wrong. "It was worth a try, though," Martyn shrugs. Cleo rolls their eyes. "What the fuck do we have to do to make you come to your right mind? I swear I'll leave you here just like this. Let a weekend janitor find you tied up in your office." Laughter throughout the room, all at Skizz. Ren, "Yeah! Yeah, that'd be a real good one. Wanna watch you talk your way out of that, dude." "C'mon," Skizz whines. "You'd deserve it, professor," Martyn huffs. He doesn't sound like he's joking for once. His jaw is set, clenched. You'd deserve it. Skizz crumples where he sits, drops his head to his chest with a gigantic sigh. "Goddammit. I–I'm so sorry, guys," he grumbles. "I don't want to fuck you all over! I don't!" "That'll be really comforting in the unemployment line." Cleo says. "You should remember it for yourself, too." Skizz lifts his head, looks around at each of them. Each of these lovely people with beautiful things to offer the world. Is justice really the most important thing? For the first time ever, Skizz wishes he studied ethics. "Fine. Fine! You've got me worn down. I'll… I won't go to anybody. " Skizz says. Ren smiles. Leans back, sitting his ass on the edge of the desk. "Skizz, my man, I know how hard this is for you. We really, really appreciate it." "You're certain?" Cleo asks. They seem skeptical. "Yeah. About as certain as I can be, Clebert. I promise you. I promise." Skizz pulls at the belts binding his wrists. "Now can ya let me out?" Martyn's the first to move, undoes his stupid ties of Skizz's shoelaces to the chair legs– even redoes the shoes into messy bows, which is absolutely adorable. Ren unbuckles Skizz's wrists, gives Cleo their belt back and loops his own around his waist again. Everyone leaves the office relatively repaired. Physically. Mentally? Well. [Skizz has been better. But he never goes back on his promise.] [[skizzroute6a]] [It eats him up inside. Eats and eats and eats.] [[skizzroute6b]]

Martyn leaves his professor's office that day with a warm feeling in his chest. He's ecstatic, has this certainty with himself for once. Dare he say it–he's downright pleased with his life. Like a man who made it out of a near death experience. He wakes up the next day with a splitting headache. And three overdue assignments that'll take up his entire weekend. After that point–Martyn's not sure, but there's a shift. Something's been lost in the cat and mouse game he plays with his professors. Things the same in his classes anymore. Like, Monday class time comes around and he doesn't feel like wearing anything high effort. He's in sweats and a hoodie–hardly tantalizing. Martyn's still digesting his lunch of coffee and fruit snacks as he sits in Skizz's lecture hall, listens to him talk about the effects of child abandonment on the collective psyche of early Romans. Handing back exams, Skizz hands Martyn's straight to him rather than calling out his name and making him come up. He leans in, quick, says, "See me after class, Mr. InTheLittlewood," and winks to seal the deal. Moves on just as fast. Martyn's stomach sinks through the floor. He can't–just can't go to that office again. Doesn't wanna spend time there at all, even if it's to get fucked. He doesn't feel like getting fucked at all, funny enough. Martyn slips out of class before Skizz reminds everyone to do their homework. Leaves without saying anything to his professor. He gets a message from Cleo an hour later– 'skizz says you skipped out on him. asked me to ask you if you're okay. haha.' Martyn messages back: 'had a study group lol. Im all good' Sexts Cleo for the rest of the evening–calls her Daddy and sends a red-faced post-orgasm selfie. –God, fuck. Cleo. Ren. Thank god they fought for him in the office that day, convinced Skizz to quit thinking about turning them all in. Martyn can't stop thinking about it. By the time it's finals week, he hasn't been to Skizz's class in a month. Just does the homework online and tanks the participation grade loss. He sits in the very back of the hall for the final exam, thankfully does well enough on it for a C. Filmology and Art History go a lot better. His whole school career does, honestly. Especially once he finally declares his degree in classics. Ren and Cleo influence him into it. And Martyn's glad they did.

Skizz has been better. But he never goes back on his promise. The semester continues on and he has more fulfilled office hours than before. Which is good. [The day after that office confrontation…] [[skizzrouteend2]]

It eats Skizz up inside. Eats and eats and eats. He can't believe he ever let it happen, that he ever gave in to Martyn's seducing. He can't believe he listened to Ren and Cleo in the office that day, promised not to turn anyone in. He can't believe he lured everyone into the trap while still having his cock in his student's mouth under his desk. Is Skizz a terrible enough man to let himself get off scot free? Just because his close friends are tangled up in it too? Is his word more important than justice? Skizz bites his nails as far as they can go, ends up picking at the skin around them, too. Sometimes people have to deal with the consequences of their actions, he thinks. And Martyn won't be hurt– Skizz is sure of it. Or if he does, he'll recover. He's a young man with a bright future. The vice dean's office is just a short walk away from his own. "I–ah. Regretfully, sir. I need to inform you that myself and two other professors have become involved with a student. You know– involved." Skizz says. Dean Grian's face only darkens a slightly terrifying amount. Skizz has never seen him angry before, not genuinely angry. "What student?" he asks. "Is that really the most important thing?" Skizz asks. "I–I don't want this kid to get any blowback. Frankly, it's not his fault. And I'm willing to tell you absolutely everything." Grian's eyes click with recognition at that pronoun. Dangit! Skizz wasn't careful enough to hold things back. "Yes, yes it's very important. We'll need to bring them in so they can give a statement." A statement, yeah–a statement seems reasonable enough, Skizz thinks. A statement will give Martyn a chance to tell his side of the story. That story'll tell them of Martyn's innocence in this. He'll get a slap on the wrist at most. (And knowing him, he'd probably enjoy a slap on the wrist.) He's going to be just fine. ["His name is… Martyn InTheLittleWood."] [[skizzrouteend3]]

The day after that office confrontation, Martyn wakes up with a splitting headache. And three overdue assignments that'll take up his entire weekend. After that point–Martyn's not sure, but there's been a shift, he thinks, with himself. Why aren't things the same in his classes anymore? Something's been lost in the cat and mouse game he plays with his professors. Monday class time comes around and he doesn't feel like wearing anything high effort. He's in sweats and a hoodie–hardly tantalizing. Martyn's still digesting his lunch of coffee and fruit snacks as he sits in Skizz's lecture hall, listens to him talk about the effects of child abandonment on the collective psyches of early Romans. Handing back exams, Skizz hands Martyn's straight to him rather than calling out his name and making him come up. He leans in, quick, says, "See me after class, Mr. InTheLittlewood," and winks to seal the deal. Moves on just as fast. Martyn's stomach sinks through the floor. He can't–just can't go to that office again. Doesn't wanna spend time there at all, even if it's to get fucked. He doesn't feel like getting fucked at all, funny enough. Martyn slips out of class before Skizz reminds everyone to do their homework. Leaves without saying anything to his professor. He gets a message from Cleo an hour later– 'skizz says you skipped out on him. asked me to ask you if you're okay. haha.' Martyn messages back: 'had a study group lol. Im all good' He ignores them when they reply again, flirting. Martyn doesn't even jack off that evening. –God, fuck. Cleo. Ren. Thank god they fought for him in the office that day, convinced Skizz to quit thinking about turning them all in. Martyn can't stop thinking about it. He's thankful for them, but, like. It all feels too damn risky, now. By the time it's finals week, he hasn't been to Skizz's class in a month. Just does the homework online and tanks the participation grade loss. He sits in the very back of the hall for the final exam, thankfully does well enough on it for a C. Filmology and Art History don't go much better. But the next semester improves. Especially once Martyn declares his major. Psychology. He's been considering it for a while. It's a respectable undergrad, it has options for him. And it keeps him away from the history department. That's the most important thing.

Skizz is fired along with his colleagues. He's ready for a billion missed phone calls, for messages cursing him out to fill his inbox. He's ready for hellfire and threatening letters. (Especially from Cleo.) He deserves all the shit ready to come his way– he knows so! It's the price to pay for what he did. But then Martyn gets expelled. After Grian god damn promised him Martyn would be okay, would be able to finish school. That bastard! And he doesn't hear from any of them. No hatemail in his inbox at all. He tries to reach out to Martyn, he calls him, looking to apologize, and it goes straight to voicemail. He sends a text for once–something long and rambling and heartfelt. He has to laugh himself about how much he knows Martyn'll hate it–the mushy crap–he has to laugh because otherwise he'd cry. He's pretty sure it sends, but no response. Not after a week. Not after he sends a 'Hope you're well.' or a 'You there? lol' or a 'Let me know you're alive, Martyn' Fuck! Fuck. The silence; somehow it's even harder to deal with. He does know they're alive, at least, when he hears a rumor that Ren and Martyn are still together–even if it feels horrible to know. God. Did anything change? Did any of this help Martyn in the slightest? Was any of this about caring for him at all? Skizz just has to hope it's not true. It's only hearsay. Or–or if it is true, he has to hope they're alright. In the end, Skizz just has to take what consequences come for him. The thing he feels the most disgusting for, looking back, is how he used sex with Martyn to initiate everything. What was wrong with him? What was he drunk on, he wonders? –He wonders despite knowing exactly. It's hard, Skizz thinks over and over. It's hard. It's a struggle to move on, to feel like he did the right thing at all.

"I had a, uh, particularly interesting time in my psych 101 class." Martyn says. Guilt settles uncomfortably in his stomach. "Professor Big B and I spent some time together." [Skizz sighs.] [[skizzroute4b]]

#skizzroute3b "It's all Dr. Doc's fault!" Martyn cries. "He invited me to his home, showed me his stupid machines. Fucked me really well…" [Skizz sighs.] [[skizzroute4b]]

"I blew my architecture professor one time. Mr. O'Onehundred." Martyn confesses. God, he was so fucking loud. I can't believe we didn't get caught, he thinks. [Skizz sighs.] [[skizzroute4b]]

#skizzroute3d "The economics prof, what was her name, again? Um. It started with an S and ended in Y." Martyn snaps his fingers, tries his best to remember. Fuck, it's been a little while since this one. "Symmetry. Yeah, yeah." [Skizz sighs.] [[skizzroute4b]]

#skizzroute3e "That engineering professor: Mx. Slab." They were smoking hot, Martyn remembers. And so mysterious. How could he not have taken up the challenge to get under their skin? "Yeah, yeah it was them." [Skizz sighs.] [[skizzroute4b]]

#skizzroute4b Skizz sighs. He knew he was right. He knew it started somewhere. But to hear a colleage's name is different, it's harder. "Anyone else?" "Nope." Martyn squirms, but that makes sense. This is a tense situation, his memories might be difficult. "Okay. Okay. Thank you for telling us, Martyn." Skizz nods. "I really appreciate how honest you're being. I know this has to be tough." Martyn squeezes his eyes shut, bites his lip. "Umm. Y-yeah, sure. Thanks. B-but I'm getting a case of the blue balls over here? Could we..?" "Oh my god. Really, Martyn? You're insatiable." Cleo grumbles. "You knew that!" He scoffs. "Just… just one last time?" Ren laughs. "Skizz does still have his whole peen-age out, doesn't he. Hm. Perhaps?" His cock tents up his casual Friday jeans, clearly amicable to the idea himself. Skizz scoffs at himself for even considering it, but fuck. [If it's between this and a stick in the eye… (kinks- slutshaming, scent)] [[skizzroute5c]]

"It's the worst idea I've ever heard," Skizz sighs. "But gosh dangit! Come here, Martyn." Skizz grabs the front of Martyn's blouse, drags him to his lips and kisses. Stubble scratches at Martyn's smooth chin. The tension of the moment melts away. All Skizz's nerves from today, from the entire past week of debating and wringing his hands and nights without sleep, gone. The only thing that matters now is saying goodbye as best he can. Cleo comes up behind Martyn, threads their fingers through his hair and pulls, forces him to look them in the eyes. Martyn moans as he detaches from Skizz's mouth. "Strip," Cleo commands. They shove him back, push him into Skizz. Martyn whimpers. He mouths sloppily into Skizz's neck while tugging at his shirt, but he's moving at a snail's pace. Ren on his other side. "You can do better than that, baby," he says, reaches into Martyn's waistband to start taking off his skirt. "Honestly, I should probably rip this right off of you. You can make your way home in just your undies, right? Let everyone know you were a whore for us." Martyn turns his head, rests it on Skizz's shoulder with a huff. He's so cute. The weight of him there, leaned into him, feels so nice. "No, fuck. Ren. Be gentle," he whines. Skizz chuckles. "D'you usually get to tell him what to do? I didn't imagine that," he teases. "Strip. Faster." He listens, picks up the pace–discards his top, his bra, his skirt, all in a careless pile on the floor. His panties, where it looks like his cock could have strained all the way through them. Cleo leans in, kisses the edge of Martyn's mouth. "You should clear your desk," they direct to Skizz. "I–I didn't know they get to tell you what to do," Martyn sneers. Weak joke, given his position–boxed in by Skizz's arms, chasing after Cleo's kiss, Ren behind and kneading at his thighs. Skizz has to laugh. "God help anyone who ain't listening to Clebert," he jokes. (As if images of Cleo being made to kneel, to beg–fighting at every step and failing–don't flash behind his eyes, as if that fantasy isn't so so sweet. He hopes someday he'll get the privilege.) Some quick rearranging–staplers and papers put anywhere else, Skizz'll clean back up another day–and there's finally a surface to lay Martyn out on. Him naked, flat on his back, all on display for the three of them. Delicious. Ren seems to think so too, the way he can't stop touching Martyn for even a second. Pushes his legs up and spread, settles to his knees between his student's legs. His student. His student. Skizz isn't sure which part of him Ren is looking to make out with, but he's certain that's the goal. Especially after Ren sticks his face in the space between inner thigh and balls, breathes in like a man about to drown. Cleo groans just to see it, keeps undressing from the waist down. They sling their trousers, their boxers over the back of Skizz's chair. Hitch a leg up on the desk to climb up onto it. Martyn moans, opens his mouth and lolls his tongue out in anticipation. "Skizz?" Cleo asks. "Are you just going to watch? Is that really your style?" "No! No, I'm–" But Skizz thinks about getting his cock in Martyn's hands or laying it on his face or sliding it between his asscheeks and all he can feel about it is wrong, wrong, wrong. Skizz stops. Sighs. Fuck. "Yeah, actually. Just watchin'–it's for the best." Cleo eyes him, then shares a glance down with Martyn. Even through his horny glaze, Skizz sees him get concerned. "It's just that you all look so beautiful, I mean. I'm all good right here. I'm great!" Skizz sits back down in his office chair. As hard as he is, there's no way he can join in. The way Cleo rides Martyn's face, the two clearly make their peace with it. Ren didn't even register the exchange with his tongue up Martyn's asshole. Skizz tries his best to enjoy the view–he does–but there's this terror creeping up the back of his scalp. The same terror he felt when he first saw Martyn in Ren's classroom bending over his desk too close, when he caught Martyn in this building on a Thursday and he said he was here for Professor Zombie's office hours and he was wearing that low-cut top Skizz had already fucked him in on the backseat of his car, when he'd first had the thought that Martyn might be busier than he'd previously known. That had been it. Realizing himself as part of a pattern is what did it. Even when it was just a hunch, the idea was a terrible insight into Martyn–it was the lid of Pandora's box cracked open. Martyn has a better head on his shoulders than himself at his age–that was his ongoing impression of him. But frankly, Skizz barely knows the kid. "Shit," Cleo moans out loud, brings their fist to their mouth to bite, instead. Fuck–he barely knows the kid in any other way besides biblically. [Cleaning up this mess in the end has gotta be least he can do for him.] [[skizzrouteend4]]

#skizzrouteEnd4 Martyn lingers by the door after they've all cleaned themselves up. It's uncharacteristic in the most normal of times–Martyn's always been one to split n run–but on a day they're especially worried about being caught? Odd. When he speaks, his voice is weak, it waivers. "Professor. Sir," he says. "I know you think it's important, I understand. But please, please can I ask you to not turn us in? I–I need to finish school." Skizz swears he catches a wet shine in his eyes as he says, next, "I'm worried that my parents will find out." Skizz didn't think he could feel any worse. Impossible. But his heart sinks through his chest and into the floor–below it into the sewers. "That, uh," Skizz clears his throat. Has to shut his eyes for just a second, steel himself, to be able to look Martyn in the eyes like he should. "That's understandable. And I swear to you that if I get my way, nothing bad will happen to you. You shouldn't get any blowback here. None, Martyn." In the dean's office, he has to use all the leverage he can get. He holds back every piece of info he has until the very moment it's needed. In return for the names of three professors, plus himself, that have had an affair with a student, he won't have to name the student involved. That's the deal he requires. "If they come forward to you on their own, that's all well 'n good, of course," he says to Grian. "This isn't about covering my own ass. If I wanted to save myself, I wouldn't be in this room right now, would I? But please don't punish them for something that's our faults. I want them protected and I'm gonna need it in writing." Dean Grian seems awfully surprised by the whole thing. Must not be every day a professor reports their own sexual misconduct. Let alone tries to bargain about it. But Skizz still gets fired, as expected. Cleo and Ren too–out of work. It's a big thing. A whole scandal across campus. Best thing Skizz can do is try his best to move on. Fire up the ol' word processor and get to resume making. He never does see Martyn again. All he can hope is that he'll graduate, that he'll live his life well. Ren calls a few times. Cleo texts. They keep in touch. They keep in touch as much as any set of colleagues who participated in the same sex scandal would.

#skizzroute3f "Well, there was this incident with the vice dean..." Martyn gulps. That one was bizarre. But hot. [Skizz's eyes go wide.] [[deanroute1]]

#deanroute1 Skizz's eyes go wide. Cleo gasps, doesn't even hold back. "The fuck? Really?" Ren's voice is strained, tinged with panic as he asks, "Who are we supposed to report something to if we're reporting the dean himself?" Skizz feels a tingling pain in his hands. Oh god. Fuck. "This… clearly goes a lot deeper than we thought it did. Um." He coughs, clears his throat. Martyn's eyes are darting around between them, wide. Like he didn't realize fucking the dean was a big deal until exactly now. Skizz sees true naivety in him for once. "I'm so, so sorry, Martyn, about the quality of your academic experience. I–I cant imagine it was much less than a nightmare, frankly." Most college students are experimenting sexually in their dorms, out at parties, whatever. But not in the damn dean's office. Who even ever has to meet with the vice dean in the first place?! Martyn shifts in his seat on the desk. "I-uh. Yeah. A nightmare," he says. "You have no idea." Skizz has to sigh. It's fine that Martyn doesn't get it. He doesn't have to because the three of them do. ["It's okay, Martyn. It's okay now. Everything is going to be just fine."] #deanend The three of them take some time. They all help Martyn collect evidence of the vice dean's misconduct with him. Gather the evidence on themselves, too, for good measure– Skizz makes sure of it. As reluctant as Ren was previously, the gravity of the situation has gotten to him now, and he's pretty sure Cleo feels the same way. They need to report to multiple parties with the truth. School HR, the damn university president. They aren't able to rely on their direct higher up to do all this for them. It's a massive scandal. Giant. Faced with so many firings at once and an empty vice dean's office, some departments even close for the remainder of the semester. It's spooky, terrible, the bleak feeling permeating throughout the history building while Ren cleans out his desk. Ren can literally smell the shock on some people's faces when they see him, now. The stench of fear and judgment and surprise makes him shrink away. Campus isn't a good place to be anymore. He tells Skizz and Cleo how Martyn's been doing good, staying healthy and well. He's on academic probation from the incident, from having affairs with professors at times that can be considered evidence of academic fraud. But, most thankfully, his name has remained out of the media. It's okay that they know Ren and Martyn have kept in contact. It's all professional, he emphasizes to them. Entirely about Martyn's wellbeing. But, uh, Ren just can't deny him, either, when Martyn asks to see Ren in person. Even if it's a bad idea, a little less professional. Maybe he can argue that it's still for Martyn's wellbeing when he visits Ren's home. When they, somehow, end up fucking once more. In his bed in the morning, Martyn just starting to wake up, Ren feels the guilt like a rock in his stomach. A rock too big to get out. He tells Martyn how this is no good. They've made another mistake. But when Martyn asks if this means he should leave, asks if he should call a ride, or, or something, Ren just can't bring himself to say yes. "For what it's worth," Martyn says. "I think everyone's been overreacting about all of this. I'm fine. I swear I'm fine." "You're fine?" "I'm fine. The whole dean thing is–it's not that big a deal. It's just sex." And something in that soothes Ren. He's fine. All of this must be fine. Martyn ends up needing to drop out of school. He says it isn't working for him anymore. Nothing is working. Ren isn't working either. It's difficult to find a job, really difficult. The no income is difficult, but his family supports him. The worst thing is that he doesn't think he'll ever be able to teach again. He liked teaching. He really felt fulfilled at it. But at least he and Martyn have each other. It could always be worse.

#cleoroute2A Something in Cleo snaps, and they whip their head to Martyn, still behind Skizz's desk. "It's all your fault!" Cleo yells. Quiets down. "It's all–god." Skizz snorts, stops his moderate to slow paced typing. "Oh, really? And how is it the student's fault?" "Don't even get me started." "Please, somebody get her started," Ren pleads. That's it. "He's been annoying in my class from, from day one, constantly disruptive for attention–yes, I could tell, Martyn. And, despite all that, you always tried your best on every assignment. I could tell that, too." Martyn smiles, shuffles his feet, like he's capable of feeling bashful or something. "And then, and then, he starts showing up to office hours. I review drafts of his papers, and his work is–pretty damn good, always intriguing. Argument-spawning, too, of course, but I value his input, how much he engages. Talking with me about my lectures, and always my teaching. Like he knows fucking anything about teaching, but–whatever. Whatever. "And then, one day, while I have his laptop to read a homework response in progress, he goes ahead and 'accidentally'," Cleo takes their time to display the most passive-aggressive air quotes they can manage, emphasis on 'aggressive', "Leaves up a suggestive photo in another tab. Of course, he's just mortified, isn't he? Just asking me to ignore it, beg me not to say anything, but, like, I respect that embarrassing shit happens sometimes. The amount of time we've all seen a student get a text message from their supplier or the top half of a dick pic, am I right?" Skizz and Ren both chuckle and nod about it. "But, yeah. Just told him not to make a big deal of it, that I won't if he doesn't." Cleo sighs. "Oh, wait, was it the one with me deepthroating the dildo while I was crying really cute?" Martyn asks. Cleo wracks her brain. "Uh… yes? I think?" Skizz scoffs. "Are you kidding me? You used the same picture on me?" He shoves at Martyn's shoulder in that weird masculine manner, and Martyn laughs, ducks his head as if he's about to pretend to be embarrassed about it. "Anyway." Cleo casts a glance around the room, makes everybody pay attention to them. Because she needs to explain herself. Make them see– "So, after that little slip-up, somebody starts wearing shorter skirts and teeny-tiny shorts to class, spreading his legs a little too much in the front row. I saw a dick slip at least three seperate times. Completely inappropriate, especially since–I knew it was all on purpose. I knew it. Fuckin' challenging me. "You wanna know the worst part about it all? He was, still, always so engaged in class. Despite his jokes and the, you know, aggressive amount of attempts to show off his body to get me to fuck him, he still asked the best questions. Always had a solid, interesting perspective on the material." Martyn laughs, turns his head. "You say that like you think highly of me or something." "…you know what? I did. And, in some ways, I still do. I definitely have a different perspective on you, now." Cleo sighs out. "It's–see. It's his fault! He seduced me! Especially after–he went after the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, people. He was like, 'Oh, who cares, it's just a myth' and usually he gets it, but he just kept pushing back, and then all of a sudden–we were both, both breathless, and his lips were red and he was begging me to finish the job. It was all his fault." ["So, you're blaming a student for everything?" Skizz demands.] [[cleoroute3a]] ["We should punish him," Cleo says.] [[cleoroute3b]]

#cleoroute2B They have to ignore that Martyn said that at all, have to try and pass it off as feckless chatter. They cannot, cannot get pinned for this. –And the best defense is a good offense, they've always heard. "With an undergrad, you two? I just–I just can't believe you'd do this. Stupid behavior. Reckless," they snip. Ren's dog-like ears pin back, his brow knits. He looks offended by their words. Skizz, having finished his email, turns back to look at them with an inquisitive gaze. "Or, actually, Ren. The saddest part is that I can believe it, honestly." Cleo shakes their head for emphasis. "And you, Skizz? Calling us in here while you're warming your cock in his mouth under the table?" Cleo sighs, acts disappointed. "We could easily call that sexual harassment." Skizz raises an eyebrow, his eyes dart to share a look with ren. "Okay, so I'm sure Martyn's never knelt for you, huh?" Cleo has to scoff. "Of course not." "He's never propositioned you? Tempted you? Never anything like that?" Cleo pauses, brain stalling. "No?" they respond. "I would have reported if an incident occurred." Martyn rolls his eyes, Cleo just barely catches it. "Ren?" Skizz asks. "Mind fetching me Martyn's bag?" Skizz asks. "It's in the cabinet there." Ren moves faster than Cleo's awareness, plops Martyn's bag on the table. Skizz leans back in his chair, full of himself as the director of this situation. "Martyn, unlock your laptop and your phone. We want to make sure that Cleo's not lying to us right now." [Stand in shock.] [[cleoroute3c]] [Stop them!] [[cleoroute3d]]

#cleoroute3a Throughout Cleo's rant, Skizz just found himself getting more and more pissed. And, now– "So, you're blaming a student for everything?" Skizz demands. Cleo huffs, laughs at him. "Look at Martyn! He's such a fucking tease! Honestly, looking back, I really bet he was trying to provoke me with that argument." But Cleo's just being pissy and avoidant of responsibility, Skizz thinks. Decides to go to the source, ask Martyn, "Well. Were you? Were you trying to piss off your professor so that you'd get fucked?" A little smirk on Martyn's face, one he tries to hide. "...yeah." Skizz's actually kinda shocked at that. Shit, his benefit of the doubt! And the fact that Cleo was right! "Martyn!" "I mean, you guys all bit, so..." Martyn shivers. Aroused, plain to see, at even the memory of it. "Sometimes, all in the same day… and I'd have to lie about it..." [Cleo's eyes go wide. "Hey. Martyn. What do you mean, 'all in the same day.'"] [[cleoroute4a]]

#cleoroute3b "Which is why we should punish him, I think," Cleo says. Skizz seems shocked. "We can't just decide to punish a student! It's not actually his fault, we need to accept that!" he shouts. Is he serious? Cleo laughs. "Oh, come on, Skizz, he's an adult. HJe knows damned well what he's doing. Tell the class how old you are, again, Martyn?" "I'm twenty-one!" "His brain's not done forming yet, Cleo!" Skizz hisses. Cleo scoffs in response. "I honestly don't think anybody's brains are ever done forming. It's called living, Skizz. But he can perceive consequences just fine right now, he's mature enough for that. And he's mature enough to perceive that he needs to endure consequences for his actions." "Ugh–fine," Skizz huffs. And then Cleo–gets to thinking. "Wait... We're only a month into the semester. Was he also fucking all of you like... pretty much every other day, every day?" Skizz and Ren nod. And then they all trade glances. ["Martyn… were you fucking all of us in the same day, sometimes?"] [[cleoroute4a]]

#cleoroute4a After a second of no response, she repeats, "Martyn...." He shrugs, voice coming out petulant, whiny. What a brat. "I just–you know. Things snowball out of control. Sometimes, I'd, I'd go to Ren first, and he'd knot me real nice, and then, then I'd put in my plug so the cum didn't leak out and go to Skizz and pretend like I just pumped cum lube inside myself but that I really wanted a real cock, and then once he filled me up, too, I'd go to Cleo and–um–" He stops. Cleo knows why. Makes sure to ask in the most demeaning tone possible, "Is it because I told you to fill yourself up with fake cum? So you could get bred on my strap?" Martyn nods, blush so deep, down his face and neck. Of course Cleo has to rub it in. "That's one of his favorite things. All of you know that, right?" Ren and Skizz nod, arms crossed. "And I think he should show off for us all why he likes his little outfits, his makeup." The words start making Martyn shake. Makes this curl of satisfaction rise in Cleo's gut. ["Show us your clit, Martyn."] (Warnings- forcefem, cock & ball torture) [[cleoroute5a]]

#cleoroute5a "Show us your clit, Martyn," Cleo commands, uses their 'classroom tone'. Martyn pulls up his skirt, pulls down the panties to his knees. Looks like he's about to get spanked. Cleo couldn't keep the smirk out of their voice if they wanted to. "What a pretty clit, huh? Look at this. I always tell her she doesn't need to shave the bush, but–" Ren stops. Leans forward, a little blush on his face, too. "W-what do you mean, 'her'?" "That's what she likes being called, Ren. She likes being treated like a whore girl. Loves being threatened with more feminization..." Martyn jumps in, says, "I'm not scared of a good time, y'know!" Cleo watches Skizz and Ren trade glances. It's like–they're overwhelmed, but, at the same time, they can't help but find it at least kind of hot. "Skizz, hand Martyn your wooden ruler, please," Cleo asks. "Yes, ma'am!" Skizz chirps, passes it over to him. Martyn gives it to Cleo when she opens her hand, his mouth hanging a little open. "Ooh, gonna be giving him–" "Her," Cleo corrects. "Her, a good spanking?" Ren asks. "Mm. Some part of her, least," Cleo laughs. "Martyn, come around to me." Still with his cock and balls bare and hard to everybody, he complies. Tries to pull up his panties when they slip further down his legs, but Cleo clears her throat at him and he just shuffles with them on. Should make him feel just that little bit more ashamed. "Lift up your clit." Martyn does, whines before they've even done anything to him yet. "Honestly, Martyn–" they smack his balls with the ruler, make him try to move his hand down, and Cleo smacks his knuckles, too, for the trouble. "You are such a fucking whore, you know that?" Martyn whines, nods. Keeps his legs spread. "Trying to get pregnant off your professors' cocks–multiple professors, as if you just can't get enough… that's so, so disgusting. Were you trying to get caught? Wouldn't things become quite apparent quite fast?" When Cleo spares a glance around the room, she sees Ren and Skizz both with their cocks out, jacking off at the two of them. Should make sure to give them a show, in that case. "And–my god, the two of you. Fucking a student without protection? Are you stupid? We're here now because we don't know where the hell her pussy's been! Who knows what you've been sticking your dicks into!" Ren hisses at the words, his hips thrusting into his hand. (Somehow, it makes Cleo feel–a bit weird, maybe a bit like she shouldn't have revealed this side of Martyn to two professors who serve as examples of masculinity. Like he'll be fetishized for this. But she's in too deep with all this, now.) At least Skizz can compose himself enough to say, "Well, we didn't know! I mean–" "Look at her," Cleo says, slow. Smacks Martyn's balls a few more times for emphasis, making them a deep red. "Now… we need to find out who else has inseminated her." Martyn's eyes are blown wide. ["Skizz, mind clearing off your desk for us, please?"] [[cleoroute7a]]

#cleoroute7a In no time at all, they've got Martyn laid up on the desk. Legs spread, all his clothes off; little bit of a shame, in Cleo's view, divesting him of all those pretty clothes Cleo encouraged him to purchase, but it's fine. There's a cabinet that Ren sticks the bag with Martyn's clothes in; hopefully, it'll be enough steps that Martyn won't feel compelled to run. Well–just to be sure– "Martyn, wrists up," Skizz says. "Bring them together for me, got it?" Martyn does, eyes gleaming. Cleo's messed around a little bit with bondage when it comes to Martyn, but, clearly, nowhere close to enough. "Yes, sir." A hard sigh from Skizz. "Good boy," he murmurs, loops his belt around Martyn's wrists, tightens it to where the angles of the leather are cutting into Martyn's wrists a little bit. Ren and Cleo both watch all that, leaned forward. "I–god," Ren sighs. "I suppose this will be for the best. Maybe… hopefully. I'm–I'm still not totally sure I want to know, to be honest." But Cleo does; she comes around behind Martyn, trails a finger down his chest. "Aren't you just the prettiest girl, all laid out for us… and who knows how many others." Such a pretty flush across Martyn's cheeks. Ren stares for a moment longer than necessary, Cleo spies and then– "You gotta tell us who else, Martyn. Might just keep you in here for the rest of time, if you don't. I mean, I don't exactly mind it, but…" "I–I can't," Martyn mumbles, shudders under the weight of three people's attention on him. "You're gonna, dude," Skizz says. His hand envelopes Martyn's dick, his fingers flexing in a squeeze. "You think we don't know how to make you talk?" Martyn sighs as Skizz starts jerking him off, slow. It's a good pace. Cleo approves. "I'll speed up if you give us a name," Skizz sing-songs. "And you'll get to feel so, so good!" "No, no, no, you aren't getting it out of me, you aren't–" Skizz stops, lets go, and Martyn's hips buck into air. "Please, please–" God, Ren just wants to sink his teeth in, bite Martyn's shoulder, anything. "Not until you tell us who else." A long moment. "…Um, I–there was, um… Smajor? In Graphic Design?" "Scott?" Cleo gasps. "He got roped up in with you, too?" "Uh–oh, um–" Martyn starts stuttering. They need to keep him talking, not let him have any second thoughts about squealing. "Don't worry about us, okay? You're doing the right thing, Martyn, you're doing just fine." Skizz looks up, starts jerking him off again. "That's right, you're doing good for us. Doing very good–wait, hang on," and stops jerking him off again to fetch a legal pad. Writes the name on it. "Please, don't leave me hanging–" Martyn whimpers. "Stop complaining," Cleo says, slaps his nipple. "Shush all that, now, you'll get what we give you." Another cute sound out of Martyn. "He likes that, huh," Ren says. Cleo snorts. "She. And, she does. She loves to have her tits hurt." "R-right, she. I'll get good at that, soon… Actually, now that you've said something, I swear she's nearly cum off her nipples before. She says no, but I saw it," Ren continues. Cleo starts kneading his tits, and Skizz backs off a touch, content to sit and watch Cleo work her magic. At the words, or maybe at the touch, Martyn whines, squeezes his eyes closed. His knees press together. Oh, that's no good. "Uh uh uh! No, thighs spread, baby," Ren murmurs, pries Martyn's legs open, traces a line up his cock, back down, presses his fingers right under Martyn's ballsack, his taint. Above him, Cleo's rolling both his nipples between their fingers at once. Her voice is lower, saying, "You know we aren't going to let you cum, right? Not at all. Unless you tell us every damn professor on this campus that you've fucked. Hell, off campus too, if you're a total whore." "Fuck, fuck! Would you actually–actually. Send me home like this, if I don't…" Cleo scoffs, feels a grin pull at their mouth. "More like we'll be here as long as we need for you to fess up." Martyn keens, probably just at the thought–what a total whore. His cock twitches. Begs, so sweet, "Please, please just fuck me then. I need–to be fucked, I want it so bad. Anything, anyone. Please." "And what do we say if we want more..?" Skizz asks, leading tone in his voice. Cleo tweaks his nipple, pinches it between the joints of two fingers. Pulls enough to make Martyn arch his back, pant, "I–I. There was also–oh, fuck, fuck. Etho, Etho Slab, they, I–" Etho, too? Isn't she in engineering? But Cleo pays that no heed. Instead, goes, "Good! Good good. Well–not that you... had that illicit relationship, I mean. But that you're telling us. We're very proud of you, Martyn." A little smile from Martyn, something sweet, too-innocent in this way that makes Cleo's hole gush. "But, um... Sorry. That was the last one. You'll just have to fuck me good now, please." Something close to a shrug, but not quite. Ren steps in, this time. "Are you sure, baby? Positive? I dunno..." Ren's fingers circle his hole, pull at the skin. "I still have the feeling you're holding back." They push just inside his rim. Martyn moans, loud, at the insertion. What is he thinking? "God, you're such a slut–what if somebody was walking by, huh?" Cleo scolds. "They would've heard, and then, before we knew it, we'd have another person involved in your ring of professors you've fucked, Martyn!" The degradation seems to make Martyn's vision literally go in and out for a few seconds. His lips part, his head bobs back and forth. "Keep goin', Ren," Skizz says. Squirts lube over Ren's fingers, sighs at the excess splattering on his desk. "Eh. We'll just clean that up later." "Should make Martyn lick it up," Ren replies, degrading in how casual he is about it. Martyn whimpers at it, his eyes begging not to. "Why not? 'Cause it's gross? Lemme tell ya something, then, baby," Ren growls, leans in closer. "It's fuckin' nasty to have my fingers inside an ass that's as well-fucked as yours is. I don't know how many different people's DNA I could be comin' into contact with right now. That's disgusting, Martyn, I do hope you realize. Thinking about just how many people have tried to breed you." This strangled sound comes out of Martyn's throat; it genuinely sounds like he's about to cum, and Ren's other hand moves to wrap tight around the base of his dick, just in case. But he doesn't. After a moment, Ren gets back to fingering him properly, curling into his prostate in a slow, steady pattern. "There… there hasn't been any other professors, please, I promise–" "You're lying, Martyn, I know it," Ren growls, shoves a third finger inside. Instead of refuting the point, Martyn starts begging, "Please, fuck me on your cock, please–" "Only if you give us one more name," Ren says. "Or two, if you have it!" Skizz chimes in. "It's just what's best for you, you should know that…" And then Cleo. "So come on, now, Martyn. Spill it." Silence–oh, Martyn's dick is jerking, he's about to– "Ren, goddamnit!" Skizz hisses. All three of them watch Martyn's dick pump cum over his belly. Watch his eyes go wide, him start to break into sobs. Cleo sighs. "Guess we're not getting anything else…" Martyn peers up, murmurs, "There, there wasn't–there wasn't–" And Cleo just has to take pity on him, then, let it all be. [Poor thing needs some aftercare, and then…] [[cleorouteend4]]

#cleorouteend4 Cleo has a handkerchief, wipes down Martyn's mess. "You're all good, you're all good," they tell him, let Skizz cuddle him. She drops him off near his apartment, once he seems stable after the ruined orgasm. Threaten him to make sure he keeps in contact with the three of them, keep him from feeling too much worse. They manage to get him to stop fucking anybody else. Just the three of them. That's not so bad, especially considering how Skizz was going to report them at the beginning of all this. Martyn ends up graduating, comes back for his master's– Drops into her office, the day of. "I, I promised myself I wouldn't tell you until–um… I did some stuff," Martyn says. "But, um. I got on HRT–" "You did?" Cleo gasps. "Yeah. I–I don't think I would've ever allowed myself to be who I am without you, but, um, I'm bigender, um… he and she are fine." Cleo pops up from behind their desk, runs around to Martyn. "C'mere–oh, I'm so proud of you, Martyn!" They throw their arms around her, and Martyn recriprocates, smiles so broad, nuzzles into their neck. "I–I wanted you to be the first one I told…" Martyn says. Oh. Oh. "You–oh, Martyn," she says, and can't hide the happy tears rolling down their face for her.

#cleoroute3c Cleo's frozen in place, doesn't know what they're even going for until Skizz is already scrolling Martyn's camera roll right in front of them. "Hey, I– what?" they stutter. Skizz snorts, tilts Martyn's phone to where he can see it but no one else. "Boy, you're really shameless! You keep all these out for anyone to find, huh?" Martyn rolls his eyes but his face tinges pinker. His laptop gets unlocked and turned over to Ren, he and Skizz work together to piece through messages, galleries, inboxes. Martyn's shaking, just slightly, where he stands. He's overwhelmed, Cleo thinks–but not stopping them. Reminds her a lot of him right before he cums. After a while–Cleo left to pick at their nails and hope for all hope that they can't find a paper trail–Skizz lights up. "Bingo!" he yells. "Facebook. Messenger." Cleo preemtively rolls their eyes, prepares to fight back. Ren tilts his head, all dog-like and intrigued and, even, cute, damn him. "Would you look at this–'Martyn, mind meeting at my office after class tomorrow? We have some things to discuss.'" he reads from the screen. Cleo scoffs. Weak. Weak evidence. "We have transparent privacy laws, so we have to go around all that–" Ren leans in to look closer, his eyes squinting. "So, er, why would Martyn reply with a smirk emoji? And then send you a picture of–oh my god, Martyn. Is that the bra you ahve on right now?" Martyn's eyes are wide, he looks down at himself. Nods with a shy, nervous frown. Ren gasps and Skizz smirks. "You're worse than the rest of us, Cleo! Dressing him up, buying him slutty clothes!" Ren cries. Skizz shrugs. "I mean… I bought him a few things too! What of it?" Ren pauses, mouth gapes for a second and then, "I–um. Oh shit. I did too. Have you been fleecing us for clothes money, Martyn?" He laughs, apparently amused by the idea. Martyn pouts, grips the sleeves of his bouse tighter. "No!" Skizz's eyes turn to Cleo, Ren's follow soon after. "So, Clebert…" he says. Cleo gulps. ["Why would you be buying lingerie for a student that you aren't fucking?"] [[cleoroute4b]]

#cleoroute4b "Here we have it," Skizz says, triumphant. A little too triumphant for Cleo's tastes. "Why would you be buying lingerie for a student that you aren't fucking?" Cleo scowls. She has the distinct feeling of her back being pressed up against the wall. "Fine! Fine. Fuck it, you know? I did buy it. I bought it because he'd look cute in it and I was right! I mean, he's cuter in the thigh highs, but–" Martyn breathes in a pant, his blush raging. He darts his eyes to the floor as he says. "Fuck, fuck you could really tell I was dressed to be fucked in those. I had zero plausible deniability." "I didn't realize you ever had that, honestly," Cleo snips. Martyn rolls his eyes. Like he has any room to pretend he doesn't love it. "Don't let him lie. He adores thinking about how he can get the maximum amount of people to fuck him. You can tell just looking at him. God," Cleo groans. She so adores this rush, the look Martyn gets on his face hen they talk like this. They need more of the taste, need need need. "I can't believe all three of us fell for an undergrad slut." But, by the look of it, Ren doesn't understand the game or something. His jaw is set, fingers digging into his palms. He looks angry. –With Cleo? No, no surely he understands that this is mostly dirty talk. Cleo thinks a 'slut' is a grand thing to be, really, but she's so fucking mad at this situation. Needs to take it out on Martyn. "Ren?" They prod, light. Ren sighs, his gaze sharp and trained on Martyn. "I thought– really thought he was a virgin up until now. That he didn't fuck anybody else but me. It's really hitting me now." Martyn's eyebrows bunch, they jump way up his forehead. "Wait–professor, I'm sorry," he says, frantic. "Fuck. But, Martyn. I told you so many times how much of a jealous man I can be and you went and–you–" Cleo rolls her eyes "He probably has, what, like, ten fucks lined up on his phone before you before you, Ren. Thinking he should quit all that would be quite terrible." Ren clenches his teeth, unclenches. He tosses his hair back. "I just–god." He breathes a halting, hot-breathed sigh. "The second I finally open my heart again…" Cleo could almost laugh. They wouldn't, because of how inappropriately rude it would be–but if only it were appropriately rude, they would. 'That's what you get for fucking undergrad ass,' they want to say. They manage to hold it back. ["Now, Martyn…"] [[cleoroute7b]]

#cleoroute7b In no time at all, they've got Martyn laid up on the desk. Legs spread, all his clothes off; little bit of a shame, in Cleo's view, divesting him of all those pretty clothes Cleo encouraged him to purchase, but it's fine. There's a cabinet that Ren sticks the bag with Martyn's clothes in; hopefully, it'll be enough steps that Martyn won't feel compelled to run. Well–just to be sure– "Martyn, wrists up," Skizz says. "Bring them together for me, got it?" Martyn does, eyes gleaming. Cleo's messed around a little bit with bondage when it comes to Martyn, but, clearly, nowhere close to enough. "Yes, sir." A hard sigh from Skizz. "Good boy," he murmurs, loops his belt around Martyn's wrists, tightens it to where the angles of the leather are cutting into Martyn's wrists a little bit. Ren and Cleo both watch all that, leaned forward. "I–god," Ren sighs. "I suppose this will be for the best. Maybe… hopefully. I'm–I'm still not totally sure I want to know, to be honest." But Cleo does; she comes around behind Martyn, trails a finger down his chest. "Aren't you just the prettiest thing, all laid out for us… and who knows how many others." Such a pretty flush across Martyn's cheeks. Ren stares for a moment longer than necessary, Cleo spies and then– "You gotta tell us who else, Martyn. Might just keep you in here for the rest of time, if you don't. I mean, I don't exactly mind it, but…" "I–I can't," Martyn mumbles, shudders under the weight of three people's attention on him. "You're gonna, dude," Skizz says. His hand envelopes Martyn's dick, his fingers flexing in a squeeze. "You think we don't know how to make you talk?" Martyn sighs as Skizz starts jerking him off, slow. It's a good pace. Cleo approves. "I'll speed up if you give us a name," Skizz sing-songs. "And you'll get to feel so, so good!" "No, no, no, you aren't getting it out of me, you aren't–" Skizz stops, lets go, and Martyn's hips buck into air. "Please, please–" God, Ren just wants to sink his teeth in, bite Martyn's shoulder, anything. "Not until you tell us who else." A long moment. "…Um, I–there was, um… Z-Zedaph? I just–I wound up in the wrong class, and he was cute, and–" Skizz's gasp echoes around the room. "Freaking–freaking Zedaph, man? Oh. Oh, my god." Martyn looks so guilty, horrified. Oh, that'll just make him stop talking. Cleo cuts in, assures him, says, "You're doing the right thing, Martyn, you're doing just fine." Skizz looks up, starts jerking him off again. "That's right, you're doing good for us. Doing very good–wait, hang on," and stops jerking him off again to fetch a legal pad. Writes the name on it. "Yeah, I'd remember anyway, whatever–but, you know, thoroughness. And all that." Martyn doesn't seem cognizant of that. Instead, whimpers– "Please, don't leave me hanging–" "Stop complaining," Cleo says, slaps his nipple. "Shush all that, now, you'll get what we give you." Another cute sound out of Martyn. "He likes that, huh," Ren says. Cleo snorts. Ren really doesn't know anything. "He does, for sure." For a moment, Ren lingers on the thought, and then says, "Actually, now that you've said something, I swear he's nearly cum off his nipples before. He says no, but I saw it," Ren continues. Cleo starts kneading his tits, and Skizz backs off a touch, content to sit and watch Cleo work her magic. At the words, or maybe at the touch, Martyn whines, squeezes his eyes closed. His knees press together. Oh, that's no good. "Uh uh uh! No, thighs spread, baby," Ren murmurs, pries Martyn's legs open, traces a line up his cock, back down, presses his fingers right under Martyn's ballsack, his taint. Above him, Cleo's rolling both his nipples between their fingers at once. Her voice is lower, saying, "You know we aren't going to let you cum, right? Not at all. Unless you tell us every damn professor on this campus that you've fucked. Hell, off campus too, if you're a total whore." "Fuck, fuck! Would you actually–actually. Send me home like this, if I don't…" Cleo scoffs, feels a grin pull at their mouth. "More like we'll be here as long as we need for you to fess up." Martyn keens, probably just at the thought–what a total whore. His cock twitches. Begs, so sweet, "Please, please just fuck me then. I need–to be fucked, I want it so bad. Anything, anyone. Please." "And what do we say if we want more..?" Skizz asks, leading tone in his voice. Cleo tweaks his nipple, pinches it between the joints of two fingers. Pulls enough to make Martyn arch his back, pant, "I–I. There was also–oh, fuck, fuck. K-Keralis, he, I–" Keralis? That's not much of a surprise; him and his TA's always seemed a bit too close, from what she's seen of him. But Cleo pays that no heed. Instead, goes, "Good! Good good. Well–not that you... had that illicit relationship, I mean. But that you're telling us. We're very proud of you, Martyn, for telling us." A little smile from Martyn, something sweet, too-innocent in this way that makes Cleo's hole gush. "But, um... Sorry. That was the last one. You'll just have to fuck me good now, please." Something close to a shrug, but not quite. Ren steps in, this time. "Are you sure, baby? Positive? I dunno..." Ren's fingers circle his hole, pull at the skin. "I still have the feeling you're holding back." They push just inside his rim. Martyn moans, loud, at the insertion. What is he thinking? "God, you're such a slut–what if somebody was walking by, huh?" Cleo scolds. "They would've heard, and then, before we knew it, we'd have another person involved in your ring of professors you've fucked, Martyn!" The degradation seems to make Martyn's vision literally go in and out for a few seconds. His lips part, his head bobs back and forth. "Keep goin', Ren," Skizz says. Squirts lube over Ren's fingers, sighs at the excess splattering on his desk. "Eh. We'll just clean that up later." "Should make Martyn lick it up," Ren replies, degrading in how casual he is about it. Martyn whimpers at it, his eyes begging not to. "Why not? 'Cause it's gross? Lemme tell ya something, then, baby," Ren growls, leans in closer. "It's fuckin' nasty to have my fingers inside an ass that's as well-fucked as yours is. I don't know how many different people's DNA I could be comin' into contact with right now. That's disgusting, Martyn, I do hope you realize." This strangled sound comes out of Martyn's throat; it genuinely sounds like he's about to cum, and Ren's other hand moves to wrap tight around the base of his dick, just in case. But he doesn't. After a moment, Ren gets back to fingering him properly, curling into his prostate in a slow, steady pattern. "There… there hasn't been any other professors, please, I promise–" "You're lying, Martyn, I know it," Ren growls, shoves a third finger inside. Instead of refuting the point, Martyn starts begging, "Please, fuck me on your cock, please–" "Only if you give us one more name," Ren says. "Or two, if you have it!" Skizz chimes in. "It's just what's best for you, you should know that…" And then Cleo. "So come on, now, Martyn. Spill it." Silence–oh, Martyn's dick is jerking, he's about to– "Ren, goddamnit!" Skizz hisses. All three of them watch Martyn's dick pump cum over his belly. Watch his eyes go wide, him start to break into sobs. Cleo sighs. "Guess we're not getting anything else…" Martyn peers up, murmurs, "There, there wasn't–there wasn't–" And Cleo just has to take pity on him, then, let it all be. [Poor thing needs some aftercare, and then…] [[cleoroutend1]]

#cleorouteend1 Cleo has a handkerchief, wipes down Martyn's mess. "You're all good, you're all good," they tell him, let Skizz cuddle him. She drops him off near his apartment, once he seems stable after the ruined orgasm. Threaten him to make sure he keeps in contact with the three of them, keep him from feeling too much worse. They manage to get him to stop fucking anybody else. Just the three of them. That's not so bad, especially considering how Skizz was going to report them at the beginning of all this. Martyn ends up graduating, comes back for his master's– And, honestly, after everything. Cleo's pretty damned proud of him.

#cleoroute3d Cleo rolls their eyes so hard where they stand. They scoff and hope it cuts into their souls. "That's a complete invasion of his privacy!" "Fine," Skizz says. "We'll figure out something else, then. Martyn, do you just wanna tell us outright?" Martyn looks to Cleo. She hopes he can tell, just by looking, how she'll totally strangle him for admitting it. Skizz, incapable of letting the silence hang, however advantageous for him it'd be, spreaks again. "Cleo. Stop lying. We're all guilty! That's what I'm wanting to establish," he says. "We need that settled so that we can start helping Martyn." "I think you people are the ones that need help more. I can't–cannot believe that you all thought I'd dress the way I do and still be a virgin, first off. And second off–me? Me of all the students? Really?" Martyn laughs and it's sour, self depricating. Cleo almost can't stand that. Thinks, Martyn, it couldn't be anybody else, and knows it's far too mushy to actually say. Opts instead for, "You do give, like, just the right amount of pushback." "–And you always listen to what I've got to say. You're kind of an enabler for my weird shenanigans, really, my dude." Ren sighs, fond. "I knew the truth! I did!" Skizz tries to defend himself. "But you put on a good show–a really good show–of being needy. Corruptible and loving every second of it. Like, like when I introduced you to being spanked? Hoo–" Skizz whistles. Wait, Cleo feels their heart drop. Did they kind of admit to being with Martyn? Like, just a handful of seconds ago? The dudes are busy being sentimental assholes, sure, but did they really not notice? What a blessing! Until Ren turns his head, says, "Er, Cleo, did you–" "–No!" Cleo retorts. "I'm not that fucking stupid. Stop trying to frame me in this with the two of you so you seem less guilty!" Martyn sighs. Opens his mouth, and– [Spill it.] [[cleoroute4c]] [Say nothing.] [[cleoroute4d]]

#cleoroute4c It's been a great time, just watching, but– "Come on, Cleo." Martyn says, sly. "You fucked me too. We all know this." Cleo freezes, their muscles tighten visibly. They wrench their gaze to Martyn and give the most scathing look. It's like a shot of reward straight into Martyn's brain–the beautiful feeling of having power, especially in a situation he should have none in. "You really did! I've got a whole video of me riding your strap." Ren and Skizz's eyes widen. "Oh my god," Ren breathes. ["Whatever! I did. So what."] [[cleoroute5c]]

#cleoroute5c "You people are so invasive, Christ. Whatever! I did. So what," Cleo swears. They throw their hands up, back down. Shift in place to try and contain the annoyance within them. "This is just–you know, mutual frustration relief for me. But it feels quite, quite personal for the two of you. What's up with that, huh?" They spit. They lie. (–However clownish and amusing they found Martyn, they took up with him, too, for the peculiar empathy beneath it. They can't mention how beautifully he takes what they give him, how deliciously he reacts to being called a good girl, how he started letting them dress him up even more that way to play the part. Cleo sees even more, there. They see a mentee and a gorgeous young person and–) "You think that's invasive?" Skizz chuckles, voice low and dark. Scary, for once. "I'll show you fucking invasive." Skizz curls his fingers, beckons Martyn around his desk where Ren and Cleo can see him just right. He pushes at his back, bends him over and makes his skirt ride up. Pulls down his panties, all in one quick motion. "Still got your plug in? Good boy," Skizz says. "Hey! That's my plug I gave him," Ren scoffs. "You're just wearing that to fuck whichever professor you want?" Martyn shrugs. "Might as well, I mean…" "Well, we need to take it out," Skizz says. Lays it on a tissue. "But–something I bet the two of you don't know. He's a slut–" Cleo snorts laughing, and Ren also starts cackling. Out of the corner of their eye, Martyn goes completely red. "Hey, I wasn't done! Okay. Okay. Look. His–one of his favorite things, along with being fucked on a cock, is not getting fucked on one. Check this out, peeps. Ass up, Martyn." Wildest thing possible for Skizz to say right before–he fetches a container of permanent markers. Doesn't apply lube before inserting one, another, another. "He really does have the prettiest pu–rim," Cleo says. Remembers the other two don't know about that part of Martyn, isn't sure if they should know. "Isn't it just the loveliest thing?" Ren gets up, presses against it with his thumb, makes Martyn work to keep–christ, four markers inside. Five, since Skizz inserted another one. "And just so well trained… I really should've realized he had far more experience than I expected." "God, you're just soaking wet, it's so hot," Skizz groans. Slips in another, another. Cleo has to laugh to herself; he has no idea what fetish inside Martyn he's feeding right now, but that's fine. And then–Skizz goes into his bag, pulls out an apple. "Okay, but. Do you guys want to see something wild?" "Hang on," Cleo says. "That doesn't have a base–" "His ass is fine," Skizz says, cuts her off. Happens a lot, but it makes Cleo particularly miffed. "Look–he's been able to do stuff like this before, no problem. We won't have problems." "Ugh. I'm leaving if you need to take him to the hospital because he got an apple stuck up his ass," Cleo groans. "I mean… if it even fits," Ren muses. "He has a dozen Sharpies in his ass. Fitting isn't the problem." Cleo scoffs. Skizz slaps Martyn on the ass, holds his hand under his asshole, and none of the markers come out. "Okay. Martyn, go ahead 'n show Cleo that they don't have anything at all to worry about." A moment, and then Martyn untenses; all the markers drop out, a few at a time, into Skizz's hand. Of course, he drops some on the floor, but that's just Skizz, really. "That's right, baby," Skizz murmurs. "Look at the control he has. He'll be just fine." The pop of the lube bottle; Skizz dribling it over the apple. It's about as big as Skizz's fist– And Skizz hooks two fingers into Martyn's gaping rim. Starts to force it inside. ["I can't believe you're doing this to him right now, Skizz."] [[cleoroute6c]]

#cleoroute6c The first few hitching moans from Martyn, and Cleo has to run around to him. Mostly to watch his reactions, his cute faces he makes when he's suffering. "Oh, look at what that mean professor is making you do," Cleo says. "I can't believe you're letting him." "I–I–I just, I just like to be, be good…" "Do you?" When Martyn looks up again, he has more of a grin. "Sometimes. Not all the time. Not most of the time–Cleo, oh, my god, it's so big–" Cleo peers over his shoulder, just in time to watch it pop in fully, Martyn's rim sagging a bit afterwards. Not able to fully shut all the way. "He is so useful," Skizz laughs. "Using him on my cock, or just for storage… look at him, the both of you. His dick's just leaking precum. He loves being talked about like this. He's just the cutest." It's obvious in his face, too, the heavy flush, his gasps for air. "Poor slut, huh?" Cleo murmurs. "Yeah, he is pitiful. Force it back out, Martyn, c'mon. Before Cleo pops a vein." Skizz chuckles. "Can you believe that that, when he first tried to preposition me, he tried to be all sly, subtle with it? Of course, uh. You've met me. That doesn't actually work." Chuckles from Ren and Cleo. Martyn's eyebrows are scrunched together; he's sweating, dripping down his face. "So, then–c'mon, Martyn, you can do it, baby–he got desperate. Did he beg anybody else to take his virginity? He sure begged me." "Yeah," Ren sighs. Wistfully. He does not need to be wistful about that. Whatever. "Yeah, sure," Cleo continues. "I mean, like, it was more like he mentioned it offhanded when I fucked him on my strap for the first time, but, yeah, sure." A sigh from Skizz. "I mean, look at him–oh, that apple's crowning, baby, aren't you doing so well–he just looks so fucking, I dunno. Not innocent, but..." Yeah. I bet that is what you meant, Cleo thinks to herself, doesn't say. He continues. "Makes me wanna do worse 'n worse things to ya, buddy. God. I just wanna–once we're done with you, we just get mean, all callous. Send you out in just your skivvies home, maybe less..." A little exhilarated gasp from Martyn–of course he's into it. Of course he is. Ren butts in. "Or, we steal his undergarments. Send him out in that short skirt and no panties... isn't it quite windy today, too?" By this point, Martyn's moaning like a whore, so unabashed. Cleo peers over his shoulder to watch him pop the apple back out into Skizz's waiting hand, leans back to watch him start crying into his hands. "There we go," Cleo murmurs. "You're just so pretty when you cry… And so easy, too, aren't you?" Martyn nods. "I am, I am, I am–" ["So, give us the names."] [[cleoroute7c]]

#cleoroute7c In no time at all, they've got Martyn laid up on the desk. Legs spread, all his clothes off; little bit of a shame, in Cleo's view, divesting him of all those pretty clothes Cleo encouraged him to purchase, but it's fine. There's a cabinet that Ren sticks the bag with Martyn's clothes in; hopefully, it'll be enough steps that Martyn won't feel compelled to run. Well–just to be sure– "Martyn, wrists up," Skizz says. "Bring them together for me, got it?" Martyn does, wet eyes gleaming. He's stopped crying by and large by now, but Cleo's not worried about him starting back up again. "Yes, sir." A hard sigh from Skizz. "Good boy," he murmurs, loops his belt around Martyn's wrists, tightens it to where the angles of the leather are cutting into Martyn's wrists a little bit. Ren and Cleo both watch all that, leaned forward. "I–god," Ren sighs. "I suppose this will be for the best. Maybe… hopefully. I'm–I'm still not totally sure I want to know, to be honest." But Cleo does; she comes around behind Martyn, trails a finger down his chest. "Aren't you just the prettiest thing, all laid out for us… and who knows how many others." Such a pretty flush across Martyn's cheeks. Ren stares for a moment longer than necessary, Cleo spies and then– "You gotta tell us who else, Martyn. Might just keep you in here for the rest of time, if you don't. I mean, I don't exactly mind it, but…" "I–I can't," Martyn mumbles, shudders under the weight of three people's attention on him. "You're gonna, dude," Skizz says. His hand envelopes Martyn's dick, his fingers flexing in a squeeze. "You think we don't know how to make you talk?" Martyn sighs as Skizz starts jerking him off, slow. It's a good pace. Cleo approves. "I'll speed up if you give us a name," Skizz sing-songs. "And you'll get to feel so, so good!" "No, no, no, you aren't getting it out of me, you aren't–" Skizz stops, lets go, and Martyn's hips buck into air. "Please, please–" God, Ren just wants to sink his teeth in, bite Martyn's shoulder, anything. "Not until you tell us who else." A long moment. "…Um, I–there was, um… Mumbo Jumbo, my, my intro to engineering professor–" Skizz's gasp echoes around the room. "You were an engineering student?" Martyn hisses, "Look, we can all be wrong sometimes, whatever–" Oh, that'll just make him get distracted, go on a side tangent. They know how Martyn can be. Cleo cuts in, says, "That's good, keep it up. You can tell us more." Skizz looks up, starts jerking him off again. "That's right, you're doing good for us. Doing very good–wait, hang on," and stops jerking him off again to fetch a legal pad. Writes the name on it. "Please, don't leave me hanging–" Martyn whimpers. "Stop complaining," Cleo says, slaps his nipple. "Shush all that, now, you'll get what we give you." Another cute sound out of Martyn. "He likes that, huh," Ren says. Cleo snorts. Ren really doesn't know anything. "He does, for sure." For a moment, Ren lingers on the thought, and then says, "Actually, now that you've said something, I swear he's nearly cum off his nipples before. He says no, but I saw it," Ren continues. Cleo starts kneading his tits, and Skizz backs off a touch, content to sit and watch Cleo work her magic. At the words, or maybe at the touch, Martyn whines, squeezes his eyes closed. His knees press together. Oh, that's no good. "Uh uh uh! No, thighs spread, baby," Ren murmurs, pries Martyn's legs open, traces a line up his cock, back down, presses his fingers right under Martyn's ballsack, his taint. Above him, Cleo's rolling both his nipples between their fingers at once. Her voice is lower, saying, "You know we aren't going to let you cum, right? Not at all. Unless you tell us every damn professor on this campus that you've fucked. Hell, off campus too, if you're a total whore." "Fuck, fuck! Would you actually–actually. Send me home like this, if I don't…" Cleo scoffs, feels a grin pull at their mouth. "More like we'll be here as long as we need for you to fess up." Martyn keens, probably just at the thought–what a total whore. His cock twitches. Begs, so sweet, "Please, please just fuck me then. I need–to be fucked, I want it so bad. Anything, anyone. Please." "And what do we say if we want more..?" Skizz asks, leading tone in his voice. Cleo tweaks his nipple, pinches it between the joints of two fingers. Pulls enough to make Martyn arch his back, pant, "I–I. There was also–oh, fuck, fuck. In, in college success, there was, there was Jimmy Solidarity, he, I–" Hm–Cleo doesn't know him, either, but they aren't surprised. Out of the corner of their eye, they spy Skizz's disappointed scowl as he jots down the name. Cleo pays that no heed, and, instead, goes, "Good! Good good. Well–not that you... had that illicit relationship, I mean. But that you're telling us. We're very proud of you, Martyn, for telling us." A little smile from Martyn, something sweet, too-innocent in this way that makes Cleo's hole gush. "But, um... Sorry. That was the last one. You'll just have to fuck me good now, please." Something close to a shrug, but not quite. Ren steps in, this time. "Are you sure, baby? Positive? I dunno..." Ren's fingers circle his hole, pull at the skin. "I still have the feeling you're holding back." They push just inside his rim. Martyn moans, loud, at the insertion. What is he thinking? "God, you're such a slut–what if somebody was walking by, huh?" Cleo scolds. "They would've heard, and then, before we knew it, we'd have another person involved in your ring of professors you've fucked, Martyn!" The degradation seems to make Martyn's vision literally go in and out for a few seconds. His lips part, his head bobs back and forth. "Keep goin', Ren," Skizz says. Squirts lube over Ren's fingers, sighs at the excess splattering on his desk. "Eh. We'll just clean that up later." "Should make Martyn lick it up," Ren replies, degrading in how casual he is about it. Martyn whimpers at it, his eyes begging not to. "Why not? 'Cause it's gross? Lemme tell ya something, then, baby," Ren growls, leans in closer. "It's fuckin' nasty to have my fingers inside an ass that's as well-fucked as yours is. I don't know how many different people's DNA I could be comin' into contact with right now. That's disgusting, Martyn, I do hope you realize." This strangled sound comes out of Martyn's throat; it genuinely sounds like he's about to cum, and Ren's other hand moves to wrap tight around the base of his dick, just in case. But he doesn't. After a moment, Ren gets back to fingering him properly, curling into his prostate in a slow, steady pattern. "There… there hasn't been any other professors, please, I promise–" "You're lying, Martyn, I know it," Ren growls, shoves a third finger inside. Instead of refuting the point, Martyn starts begging, "Please, fuck me on your cock, please–" "Only if you give us one more name," Ren says. "Or two, if you have it!" Skizz chimes in. "It's just what's best for you, you should know that…" And then Cleo. "So come on, now, Martyn. Spill it." Silence–oh, Martyn's dick is jerking, he's about to– "Ren, goddamnit!" Skizz hisses. All three of them watch Martyn's dick pump cum over his belly. Watch his eyes go wide, him start to break into sobs. Cleo sighs. "Guess we're not getting anything else…" Martyn peers up, murmurs, "There, there wasn't–there wasn't–" And Cleo just has to take pity on him, then, let it all be. [Poor thing needs some aftercare, and then…] [[cleoroutend1]]

#cleoroute4d Martyn doesn't speak up as Cleo gathers their things, throws their bag over their shoulder, slams Skizz's office door on the way out. They don't even have the decency to part with a scathing remark as they go; they just leave, just let the office get enveloped in heavy silence. It makes the sound of the game, in the distance, come into focus. There's a rousing sound, hundreds and hundreds of anticipatory cheers until–decay. Groans, jeers of disapproval. Skizz sighs, a little too hard; Martyn's eyes flip to him, just in case he's coming close, but– He slams his desk with a fist, instead and it makes Martyn jump out of his skin once for the movement and again for the sound. "Sorry! Sorry," he says, hands held out in front of him, which isn't actually helping Martyn's brain, the panic seizing him. Martyn's vision swims while Skizz stands, walks to lock his office door. Ren creeps closer, which doesn't help the jolt all that much, either. Martyn looks up at him from where he sits, feels compelled to smile, to lean in when he goes to stroke his face even though his skin is crawling. I have to act normal, I need to stay put together until they let me leavehe thinks; but, hey. At least his hands are warm, like usual. "Martyn," Skizz starts, walks back to his desk. "Whether you were with Clebert or not, I know this can't be your first time with someone older. Probably not your first time with a professor. I just think that's unacceptable. We need to be turned in… You're going to tell us a list of names, please." "I–I can't, professor." Martyn whines. He tries to pitch his voice up, play things real pathetic. Even this is a risk. He doesn't know how much of their anger is at him–for not being able to tell them either way about Cleo, for sleeping around at all, for just being here and available to push their frustration onto. God, he needs to get out of here. He's so jealous of Cleo. Ren chuckles, his voice soft. "Come on, baby. He's right. You should tell us." Martyn stays quiet. Can't figure out how to say no a second time. If he should say so at all. Skizz and Ren seem to pick up on his hesitation; Ren's touch trails to his neck, his shoulder, where it feels a tad like it'll dig into the muscle until it tears it clean off, even as Ren keeps it gentle. "Skizz, he might just need some… convincing, the way he loves to convince us." A few heartstopping moments, and then, "Yeah. God, doing this again–yeah. Probably will be for the best." Skizz sighs, nods to himself. "Okay. Okay…" [And that's something Martyn knows how to do.] [[cleoroute7d]]

#cleoroute7d In no time at all, they've got Martyn laid up on the desk. Legs spread, all his clothes off–fuck. Fuck. He's so pretty, all on display for Ren. And Skizz, he supposes, as much as he might hate it, as much as it makes him feel jealous. There's a cabinet that Ren sticks the bag with Martyn's clothes in; hopefully, it'll be enough steps that Martyn won't feel able to run at any point. Well–just to be sure– "Martyn, wrists up," Ren says. "Bring 'em together for me, baby." Martyn does, eyes suspicious, even as excited as he seems. "Yes, sir." Even in the classroom, Ren hates being called 'sir'. It's only here, only with Martyn– "Good boy," he murmurs. "Skizz, can I borrow your belt, please?" "I–god," Skizz sighs. "I suppose this will be for the best. Maybe… hopefully." Hands it over, and Ren cinches it around Martyn's wrists right away. It'll probably leave marks on Martyn later, but, hey, hey, that'll be just fine, Ren thinks. As for Skizz's hesitancy–really, Ren doesn't think he could care less about 'justice'; it's about knowing. Shielding Martyn from the worst of his own actions. Such a pretty flush across Martyn's cheeks. Ren stares for a moment longer than necessary, and then– "You gotta tell us who else, Martyn. Might just keep you in here for the rest of time, if you don't. I mean, I don't exactly mind it, but…" Martyn freezes, shudders under the weight of both men's attention on him. "I–I can't–" "No, you're going to talk," Ren demands. Martyn scoffs, all pissed off, turns his head. "You're gonna, dude," Skizz says. His hand envelopes Martyn's dick, his fingers flexing in a squeeze. "You think we don't know how to make you talk?" Martyn sighs as Skizz starts jerking him off, slow. And Skizz doesn't even know how to squeeze his balls, make it all teasing, make Martyn keen and then tilt his head begging for more. But Ren should let him work, at least for now. At least for now. "I'll speed up if you give us a name," Skizz sing-songs. "And you'll get to feel so, so good!" "No, no, no, you aren't getting it out of me, you aren't–" Skizz stops, lets go, and Martyn's hips buck into air. "Please, please–" God, Ren just wants to sink his teeth in, bite Martyn's shoulder, anything. "Not until you tell us who else." A long moment. "…Um, I–in architecture, um, Professor O'OneHundred?" "Bdubs?" Skizz says, taken aback. "You think you know a guy." Skizz's comment is light, but Martyn looks so guilty, horrified. Shit, they're going to make him clam up–because there's more, there has to be–but Ren doesn't know what to do. He doesn't. Not like Cleo would. Skizz looks up, starts jerking him off again. "Hey, you're doing good for us. Doing very good–wait, hang on," and stops jerking him off again to fetch a legal pad. Writes the name in it. "Please, don't leave me hanging–" Martyn whimpers. "Ah, bup-bup!" Ren silences him, grabs at his chest and squeezes. Another cute sound out of Martyn. "Skizz, I swear he's nearly cum off his nipples before. He says no, but I saw it," Ren continues. Starts kneading his tits, and Skizz comes closer. At the words, or maybe at the touch, Martyn whines, squeezes his eyes closed. His knees press together. Oh, that's no good. "Uh uh uh! No, thighs spread, baby," Ren murmurs, pries Martyn's legs open. He nods to Skizz, indicates he should do something. Skizz traces a line up his cock, back down, presses his fingers right under Martyn's ballsack, his taint. Above him, Ren's rolling both his nipples between their fingers at once. Lowers his voice, saying, "You know we aren't going to let you cum, right, baby? Not at all. Unless you tell us every damn professor on this campus that you've fucked. Hell, off campus too, if you're a total whore." Martyn's breath catches, so delicious. "Fuck, fuck! Would you actually–actually. Send me home like this, if I don't…" Skizz scoffs. A grin makes his eyes crinkle at the corners even more than usual. "More like we'll be here as long as we need for you to fess up." Martyn keens, probably just at the thought–what a total whore. His cock twitches. Begs, so sweet, "Please, please just fuck me then. I need–to be fucked, I want it so bad. Anything, anyone. Please." "And what do we say if we want more..?" Skizz asks, leading tone in his voice. Ren tweaks his nipple, pinches it between his thumb and forefinger. Pulls enough to make Martyn arch his back, pant, "I–I. There was also–oh, fuck, fuck. Dean–Vice Dean Grian? he, I–" This time, Ren feels his own blood run cold. The damn dean? What is he doing fooling around with a student? An undergraduate? Ren snaps his gaze to Skizz's, trades horrified looks. But Ren's just–he has to press on. Can't elevate Martyn's blood pressure further or something bad might break out. Needs to keep him all floaty and happy. Ren swipes his fingers over Martyn's nipples, touch light enough to just tickle. "Hey, good! Good good. Well–not that you... had that illicit relationship, I mean. Especially with him, of all people. But that– that you're telling us." A little smile from Martyn, something a little too innocent for the kind of fuckup he's done, and it makes Ren's cock throb again. "But, um... Sorry. That was the last one. You'll just have to fuck me good now, please." Something close to a shrug, but not quite. That familiar scent of a liar–if Ren were to lick Martyn's skin, he could taste it, he knows. Skizz keeps goading him on, asking, "Are you sure, though, Martyn?" His fingers circle his hole, pull at the skin. "I still have the feeling you're holding back." They push just inside his rim, slow with the dryness. Martyn moans, loud, at the insertion. "Be quiet! Be a quiet slut, now," Skizz coos. "I know you're capable of it. If you're loud, somebody might hear and then we'd have another person involved in your ring of professors you've fucked, Martyn. We can't have that, can we?" The degradation seems to make Martyn's vision literally go in and out for a few seconds. His lips part. "Keep goin', Ren," Skizz says. Squirts lube over his fingers, sighs at the excess splattering on his desk. "Eh. We'll just clean that up later." The words come out of Ren before he even realizes how cruel they sound. "Should make Martyn lick it up." Martyn whimpers at it, his eyes begging not to. "Why not? 'Cause it's gross? Lemme tell ya something, then, baby," Ren growls, leans in closer. "It's fuckin' nasty to have your fingers inside an ass that's as well-fucked as yours is. I don't know how many different people's DNA poor Skizz could be comin' into contact with right now. That's disgusting, Martyn, I do hope you realize." This strangled sound comes out of Martyn's throat; it genuinely sounds like he's about to cum, and Ren's right hand moves to wrap tight around the base of his dick, just in case. But he doesn't. After a moment, Skizz seems to get back to fingering him properly, his arm flexing in a slow, steady pattern. "There… there hasn't been any other professors, please, I promise–" "You're lying, Martyn, I know it," Ren growls, digs his nails into Martyn's plush chest. Instead of refuting the point, Martyn starts begging, "Please, fuck me on your cock, please–" He's begging Ren, even with Skizz in his ass. Makes Ren growl, so happy. "Only if you give us one more name. You know which one." Skizz pipes up. "This is just what's best for you, you should know that" Wait– Skizz must be angling to hear about Cleo. Does Ren want to hear that? Does he want Martyn to have to say it? Skizz, "So come on, now, Martyn. Spill it." Silence–oh, Martyn's dick is jerking, he's about to– [so Ren stops moving.] [[cleoroute8a]] [so Ren keeps going.] [[cleoroute8b]]

#cleoroute8a Ren stops his hand on Martyn's chest, squeezes the base of his dick once more and stops the impending flow. It makes Martyn groan so loud, so loud they must be able to hear it on the ground floor but it doesn't matter. Ren needs to know if Cleo really did this or not. "Please, I was on the edge–please keep going–" "Not until you get us what we want," Ren says. Signals to Skizz to pull out. But Martyn stays quiet; after a few minutes of letting him come back down from the edge–well, what else is there to do? Skizz starts fingering him again. It happens a few more times; Ren keeps pinching his nipples, and Skizz keeps stroking his cock, and Martyn gets so, so close, to where Ren can smell the cum in his cock but he's not quite over the edge yet, not left up– And then, and then. "Cleo… She and I–please…" Martyn whimpers. "We did it, we fucked, they were lying." Ren has to blink down at him a few times, his chest feels like stone broke in two. But they know. He knows for sure now. "Oh my god," Skizz breathes. He laughs a few dark notes. "Thank you. Thank you, Martyn," he says. Ren yanks Martyn's legs up, makes him spread them. Shoves Skizz out of the way and his own jeans down his thighs. "Wait, Ren–" Skizz begins. "I don't give a fuck," Ren says, and shoves in. About–about shielding Martyn anymore, about anything– Martyn's arching his back, panting; Skizz doesn't even put his hand down his pants, the loser–watching Ren fuck a student like he threw down a few twenties for the 'privilege', not doing anything about it. Like Cleo, like how Cleo fucked him too, fuck Cum splatters against Ren's torso, up onto his shirt. That'll be hell to clean later. "I'm done, please, hurts," Martyn whimpers. "Too much–" But Ren knows, when Martyn says 'too much', he means 'keep going'. So Ren does, keeps pounding him, while Martyn arches his back, almost wails before Ren shoves his hand over his mouth. Skizz has three names on his legal pad. Double, triple checks them for no reason while his cock stays stiff in his pants. [When they're done…] [[cleoroute9a]]

#cleoroute8b "Ren, goddamnit!" Skizz hisses. Both of them watch Martyn's dick pump cum over his belly. Watch his eyes go wide, him start to break into sobs. Skizz sighs. "Fine. Fine. Guess we're not getting anything else…" Martyn peers up, murmurs, "There, there wasn't–there wasn't–" And Ren just has to pretend to take his word for it. He knows in his heart that Cleo is guilty. He knows Cleo should be on the list too. But... he just rather they aren't. He wants Cleo protected. He doesn't want to hear about their conquest of Martyn, too. Skizz is so frustrated, but he doesn't push any more. [They both focus on caring for Martyn, instead.] [[cleoroute9b]]

#cleoroute9b Ren leaves to fetch paper towels; mutters about how silly it is that they did this without anything to clean up. Leaves Skizz and Martyn alone in his office. Scary for Martyn. But Skizz speaks gently. "I'll have to give Cleo a really, really good apology for how I accused them back there. I, uh. Yeah. God, I fucked up, " he mutters. Skizz sighs, a real big one. "And to you, too, Martyn. I'm sorry about what I did. I'm so sorry about all of this. You deserve better than any of us." Skizz pulls Martyn into a hug. Apparently doesn't care if he gets any spunk on his clothes. "–And do not tell me that you don't!" Martyn snickers, just barely. It's all he can muster right now. He hopes the pit in his stomach is just coming off as post-nut dazedness. "Aw. How'd you know?" he jokes. Skizz laughs, hearty and joyful as ever. Martyn can't imagine how he does that. This is all for the best, though. This way, Cleo will be all safe. He isn't going to fuck up their entire career. Now he just needs to convince Skizz and Ren to not turn themselves in, either. [After that…] [[cleorouteend3]]

#cleorouteend3 Cleo's not entirely sure what happened in that office after they left. There's just no way to know, not without contacting someone involved. Which they're not willing to do. Try as they might to forget it, it does keep her up at night. Invades her dreams and absent moments throughout the day. Sets this horrible dread in her chest. She just has to power through it all. Hope that it goes away. It doesn't. Not until– A few weeks later, Cleo wakes up on a Sunday to a non-stop ringing phone. A million notifications, a preview of an email. A ton of professors, all across campus have been fired. Including the goddamn Vice Dean. Fired for sexual misconduct with an unnamed student. Parts of the college are having to go into emergency shut down for the rest of the semester while investigation continues. But. But Cleo wasn't called in for this. Ren and Skizz don't appear in news coverage anywhere. –However they reported it, they must have gotten convinced to save their own skins, the bastards. But can they really say that when they were saved too? Cleo texts Ren immediately. Asks him if they can meet up to talk about this. They make plans for a local diner–like old times, Ren says. At first it's small talk. Just. Just veiled statements about how weird it's been in their classes this week. How odd life has been in general. But then Ren lets something slip. Says that he's been seeing Skizz while he explains to Cleo that he's been alright. "–Wait, like, what? Seeing?" Cleo asks. "Seeing seeing?" "Seeing seeing, I suppose. In a manner of speaking." Ren grins. It's wolfish. Entirely like himself. "And, ah, someone else wishes you well, too, Cleo. As much as he wouldn't admit it." Cleo nearly chokes on their eggs. Eyes Ren so, so suspiciously. "If this someone wouldn't mind it, um..." Cleo looks away, and then forward again. Just–they've been thinking about this for a while, for sure. "Maybe I'd be interested in seeing them again, too."

#cleoroute9a When they're done, Skizz leaves to go fetch clean-up supplies for the both of them. Ren's thankful, he's worried about what would happen were anyone to catch him in this state. After a few minutes, Ren starts to hear this–this sniffling sound. Martyn in his arms is so still that it takes Ren a second to realize it's coming from him. "Baby?" Ren asks. Martyn's reluctant to speak, but Ren strokes his back and, "Everybody's, everybody's going to lose their jobs–I don't want you, or Skizz, or Cleo to–it's my fault." Ren squeezes him tight. Keeps holding him and shushing him. Even though the same anxiety is thrumming through his veins. The door creaks. Skizz slips back in the room, his hand filled with shitty school bathroom paper towels, Ren sees. "Skizz, sir, professor Skizz, please don't turn anyone in," Martyn begs. He turns, wiggles and makes Ren's arms loosen but Ren doesn't let him all the way up. Can't bear to lose the contact. "Sir, you can't–cannot do it." Skizz's face twists, tightens in sorrow. "I have to, though, buddy. I just have to." "At least not–not you and Ren?" Martyn says, his voice barely there. "Please," he says. "I need somebody." Skizz looks shot through the heart. Ren smells it, a new level of regret in him. "S-somebody? You've got no one?" Martyn's shivering as he shakes his head. "Justice is one thing," Ren says. "But I–yeah. I'm having trouble saying that'll really be the best thing for Martyn after all." Skizz sighs. He runs a hand through his hair, pulls at it–to ground himself, perhaps? "Yeah. Um. Yeah." Martyn sniffs. "And Cleo..?" he asks. Skizz shakes his head, resolute. He's set on them seeing punishment, Ren gathers. It feels awful, terrible, disgusting to be throwing them under the bus to save themselves. But, well. Ren has to admit that he's a selfish man. This situation is preferrable to being fired, having his career ruined, too. [After that night…] [[cleorouteend2]]

#cleorouteend2 Cleo's not entirely sure what happened in that office after they left. There's just no way to know, not without contacting someone involved. Which they're not willing to do. Try as they might to forget it, it does keep her up at night. Invades her dreams and absent moments throughout the day. Sets this horrible dread in her chest. She just has to power through it all. Hope that it goes away. It doesn't go away, given that– A few weeks later, she gets a beckon to the vice dean's office. It's a terrible email in official letterhead images that takes five full minutes to load on her screen. All while she's stuck, head in hands, at the message within. A summons for professional review. Something involving a serious internal investigation. –God, she's screwed. Screwed, screwed, screwed. There's a lot of other professors present at the meeting, weirdly. Only a few were visibly CC-ed on the email. And someone–not the vice dean– is running the place. Whoever they are, they proceed to say that large parts of the school are going to closed down for investigation. The rest of the semester, at least. Perhaps into the next. And everyone present is fired, of course, effective immediately. Eventually, Cleo manages to find a job that they're way overqualified for making even less money. A preschool staff member– fuck their whole entire life. Even on their way to their first new day of work, Cleo's thinking about it. About how in that room–that meeting day– they didn't see Ren or Skizz. However they reported it, they must've gotten convinced to save their own skins. It makes them wonder, honestly: are they and Martyn still fucking? Assholes. At least that damn meeting day helped them reconnect with someone they hadn't seen in a while. Scott from the graphic design college. On a grand, self destructive whim, they went out to eat together, after. Got jointly wine drunk at an Italian restaurant. It's kind of the best memory they've had in a while, now. At least since that day in the office.

#BetaReadNotes for the purposes of the beta read, we're looking for: -continuity through a series of choices (ie. does what you picked reflect in what happens next? does it feel disjointed or out of place?) -continuity across characterization (even though choices will make characters behave in different ways, do they ultimately seem like the same character, or do motivations change suddenly, or in drastic ways?) -basic errors. spelling, grammar, general clarity -more things we need to warn for, and in which places might be most applicable if you do note anything, please take a screenshot and note what section this appeared in, along with your notes (ie. "in #intro1, skizz is a poopoo head! (image attached)") and finally, we really, really appreciate it :D even if you just take a look at one or two routes, that's still super helpful! (also. for our own data. it'd be cool to note which routes you decide to take first, but that's not a necessity!) the text next to the blue words describes what the decision you're about to take is, and the blue words, when clicked or tapped, will take you to the results of that decision. this is not how things will look in the final version (route names will be hidden, amongst other things, such as clearer signifiers for the pov you're about to click into) [Beginning of the fic] [[Intro1]]