The whole class fell into suffocating silence.
Skye's face turned every shade of red.
Jax gripped a pen in his hand to stop himself from jumping down there and throttling him then and there.
He was attempting to embarrass him. In front of the whole class.
A class who only knew him as a golden boy.
Jax let his lips curl into a smile. "Of course, Professor. I'll be sure to keep my charms in check. Wouldn't want to disrupt your perfect class with any distractions."
Jax thought he saw a gleam amid the gray, but he directed his attention to the rest of the lecture hall. "You will be expected to think critically, analyze evidence, and confront uncomfortable truths. There is no room for leniency or weakness here. You are not here to make excuses for criminals. You are here to study the system that sanctions them. If you cannot accept that, then this course is not for you. Now let us get down to business.
The PowerPoint slides opened and he started the lecture, his voice making Jax's headache pound more fiercely, more insistent that his vision blurred. His wound pulsed in annoying cadence, and he bit back the urge to rip the damn stitches out and stab his knife into it.
The longer he talked in that even, somewhat ascetic tone, as if he had not a care in the world, the more Jax wanted to kill him.
How dare he come before him?
How could he be so damn…remote?
Jax shifted his pen on the paper back and forth, back and forth.
As if summoning a devil.
The whole class was hanging on his every word, falling over themselves to answer any query he had.
Bunch of bloody idiots.
They were all fooled by his looks, his smooth manner of speaking, and the commanding way he carried himself. But none of them seemed to see the monster underneath.
Then again, Jax did use his looks as well, so he was in no position to judge, but come on. The fucker was a real criminal who's teaching criminal law. Usually, Jax would answer all the questions and impress the professor, but he'd just been gliding the pen over his notebook while keeping him in his line of vision the entire time.
There was this unexplainable itch beneath his skin, this idiotic thought, that if he didn't concentrate, he'd pounce on him again.
Despite being in the middle of a class full of people.
His head hurt the worse the longer he watched him move around so easily, speak so assuredly.
Being so composed.
Jax had the urge to ruin that.
Ruined him. Break him the hell apart.
Now, when we are talking about actus reus, the physical act of the commission of a crime, you need to remember it is not just the act, but in what circumstances it takes place." He walked the length of the podium, his voice a drone. "Was there intent? Did the defendant have the necessary mens rea, the guilty mind? Without both, you have no crime. Let's take rape, for example.".
Jax's pen screeched to a halt on the notebook as he continued talking to the class.
"The act of penetration, the sexual act, is clearly the physical aspect, but it's the state of mind that determines the degree and nature of the charge. Consent—or lack thereof—is where it's at. If the offender did know, or should have known, there was no consent, then the question is: was there willful disregard for the victim's autonomy? Was there intent to dominate, to exert power?"
"Rape as a crime is not so much about violence; it's about manipulation, control, and disrespect for the victim's agency. And it's here that it becomes complicated, because consent, and whether or not it was freely given, is so often a matter of perception, a gray area that must be closely examined. We have to ask ourselves: did the defendant act in such a way as to offend the very sanctity of another's bodily autonomy?"
The pen broke in Jax's hand, and he let it fall onto the notebook as his gaze jerked to him, rich amusement there.
He was enjoying this.
The bastard was having the time of his life bringing back to Jax the one humiliation he'd ever experienced.
He was rubbing it in, opening the stitches Stiles sewed and placing his fingers in the wound, probing and causing Jax to feel every touch.
The lecture was a total nightmare. Jax's head would explode even after he switched subjects.
So when it finished, Jax was more than ready to leave.
To research, come up with a foolproof plan, and come back to face him in a better physical and mental state.
Notebook in hand, Jax trailed his other classmates out, listening to the girls giggling and whispering to each other about the 'hot-as-fuck' professor.
And he wanted to smash their heads in.
Stupid bloody idiots without a sense of danger or predators?—
"Stay back, WENTZ."
Jax's spine shivered at the unnervingly even voice. He was not even looking at him, his gaze on his laptop, and Jax was inclined to disregard him.
Jax was not in the mood for a fight, and he was certainly having more homicidal urges this fine morning.
But then again, Jax WENTZ would never disrespect a professor. And he never backed down from a challenge.
With a sigh, Jax stepped aside, letting the others move past him.
Some of his classmates looked at him briefly, several of them smiling inwardly at seeing the resident golden boy hated by the hotshot new prof. People don't really like it when you upstage them, especially if they're incompetent fools who could've never reached that point.
So they wished for him to fail—they fantasized about it.
As the last student left, the big lecture hall grew quiet, as did the pounding in Jax's head. A constant fucking ache that was making his vision blur.
Ethan didn't rise to close the door—protocol for sure. He wouldn't do anything that would get him fucked all the way until Sunday at such a prestigious university.
He sat on the edge of his desk, his fingers wrapping around the frame with an ease that spoke of control, his legs crossed loosely at the ankles. Jax would call him relaxed if he didn't know exactly what the sick fuck was capable of.
His slender, elongated fingers tightened on the desktop, and Jax noticed the veins at the rear, strained, pulsating with every tightening, down to where they vanished beneath the cuff of his sleeve. Those veins that had bulged and strained when he'd gripped Jax's jaw, his cheeks?—
No.
Not doing that.
You need to stop staring at me like that." His voice was somewhat rough and low enough that none of the passing students would be able to hear him.