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The Head, Heart, and Soul

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"You and I need to combine forces," The Professor said empathetically as he clutched that crumbling book he always had with him to his chest. "I believe your serum can work, but it'll never be work exactly the way that it should without the Old One's blessing."

Herbert scoffed.

"You call yourself a man of science, but every time you open your mouth, it's more religious bullshit. It truly boggles my mind that the dean can constantly threaten to have me expelled and yet has no issues allowing you to continue on here."

"The Old Ones predate religion," The Professor said, completely ignoring the last half of Herbert's statement. "The concept of worshiping all of these modern gods comes from the Old Ones. Worshiping them is as natural as our need to eat and our need to sleep."

"I don't need your superstitions to succeed," Herbert said, pushing past The Professor.

The Professor held onto his book even tighter, clearly nervous of Herbert knocking it out of his hands. Normally, this would have pleased Herbert, but he almost felt...

...remorse?

Despite an effort to not grow attached to the young philosopher since he had transferred to Miskatonic University, Herbert found that he felt something akin to friendship toward him. Like he had been feeling with Dan. Perhaps something even more than what he felt for Dan.

How inconvenient.

"The last experiment was almost perfect, wasn't it?" The Professor asked, trailing after him, like a puppy that had already forgotten it had been kicked. "The specimen resurrected , but it... it wasn't the same afterward, was it?"

Herbert spun around and glared at him.

"How could you possibly know that? Only myself and Dan are privy to my research."

The Professor smiled and reached up to adjust his glasses.

"The Old Ones told me," he said smugly. "They want you to succeed, but in order for that to happen, you need a brain, a heart, and a soul."

"I'm not going to debate you on whether or not my subjects have souls or not," Herbert said through gritted teeth. His hands balled up in his pockets, although he'd never been one for physically fighting. He would, though, if it was the only way he'd get past The Professor. "I don't have the time to waste on something so ludicrous."

"I don't mean the subjects having souls," The Professor said, shaking his head. "Your team must have a soul. You're the brain, and your friend Dan is the heart. If you let me help guide you, I can be the soul. It doesn't have to be me, but considering that I also have a direct link to the Old Ones, it's simply the most logical choice."

"This just sounds like the most convoluted out of all of the plans that I've heard to take credit for my discovery."

"It isn't just your discovery, though, is it?" The Professor asked. "What about Dr. Gruber's theory on brain function after death that led you to Switzerland? He became your mentor, thus giving you the inspiration for the serum? What about Dan providing you with your lab and agreeing to allow you to find your next specimen from the morgue? There's nothing wrong with asking for help. I know deep down you know this. You just have trouble letting people in. You let Dr. Gruber and Dan in. I'm sure you can see in me what you saw in them to trust me."

Herbert sighed.

"You sound like you should be studying psychology rather than philosophy," he muttered. "Why are you even enrolled at the university? It doesn't seem to further your agenda in any way? And you can't say it's to have gotten close to me. You were here before I transferred. I refuse to believe you could have known that I would come to Miskatonic. I didn't even know until the last minute."

"You have a habit of insulting everyone, even those close to you," The Professor chided. "It'll get to a point where none of your words will sting."

"Fine. Is that how you plan to help? By being our 'soul?' Offering shallow words of wisdom?"

The Professor smile, all teeth, and he looked more manic than beautiful. But Herbert still felt his heart ache.

"Among other things."

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A small part of Herbert had been positive that The Professor wouldn't have let go of his book, even for this, but he had set it down gingerly onto one of the shelves in the closet before grabbing a fistful of Herbert's lab coat.

The kiss was forceful, and Herbert knew he would feel it in his lips later when they'd be unable to stop tingling. It wasn't surprising that they would come crashing together like this, but what did take Herbert aback was how good of a kisser The Professor was.

"I've made out with my fair share of people at raves," he answered, somehow reading Herbert's mind once again. "You know, when I don't scare them away talking about my theories."

"I can't imagine you at a rave, waving your book around and preaching."

"Everyone is on ecstasy, so that part doesn't make me stick out," The Professor said with a shrug. "It's just a bit more off putting than other people's stoned thoughts, so I didn't always get lucky. Plus, I can't dance."

"Neither can I," Herbert said, pulling The Professor back in, mumbling against his lips, "Two left feet."

The closet was cramped, and obviously neither of them had planned to do this right then and there, so after a quick, dry conversation, The Professor dropped to his knees.

Herbert didn't bother taking anything off. Why operate under the delusion that it was anything more than a blowjob in a supply closet? Never mind that he got butterflies when The Professor looked up at him as he unbuttoned his pants.

"I bet you've been very pent up."

Herbert hummed in acknowledgement that he had heard him. Thoughts of Dan's annoying cat constantly distracting him when he was trying to work, and Dan's even more annoying fiancee trying to turn Dan against him. He hadn't had much time to do much else but work on his research and constantly talk Dan down from the ledge.

Yes, he was extremely pent up.

"It isn't good for you to let the stress take over like that," The Professor said, and Herbert was about to tell him to get on with it, but thankfully he didn't need to.

The Professor gently pulled Herbert's cock through the fly of his slacks, giving it a few cursory strokes before taking him into his mouth.

Herbert groaned, his head falling back and hitting the wall with a thud.

The Professor didn't seem as skilled at this as he was at kissing.

Herbert didn't know much about rave culture. He had assumed that 'making out' had been code for much more than that. He had a feeling between the drugs and the thrum of the music, people wouldn't just draw the line at some kissing and possible groping, but The Professor was so inexperienced, that apparently that was what people did. He supposed that no one wanted to have a misdemeanor on their record for public indecency, and he didn't see The Professor as the type to make it as far as going home with someone.

Not that he was actually judging the sloppy, but enthusiastic, blow job. It wasn't like he was terribly experienced either, and he was starting to worry a little bit about what would happen when it came time for him to reciprocate.

And what was happening to him?

What was going on with him that he was thinking about that. It wasn't as if he was obligated to return the favor. The Professor had practically shoved him into the supply closet moments after telling him he needed to relieve some tension.

"Relieve tension and get you out of your head," The Professor said, pulling off of Herbert's cock. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and his lips looked even more red and plush then they had before. Herbert almost wanted to pull him into another kiss, and that was insane. Who would pick kissing over receiving a blow job? "And you're still in your head."

"There isn't exactly anywhere else I can go," Herbert shot back.

"Can you at least try and enjoy yourself?" The Professor asked.

He didn't wait for Herbert to answer, sliding his mouth down until his nose was nestled against Herbert's pelvis. He swallowed around him, drooling dripping down onto the floor, and Herbert started to worry about them leaving a mess for someone to find. There would be no way they could trace it back to them, but he still couldn't help but think they would figure out it was them. The Professor pinched the skin of Herbert's thigh at that, and with a low chuckle, Herbert tried to follow his advice and focus on what was happening.

Perhaps he hadn't allowed himself to before that because he knew that he wouldn't last long. What little experience he did had was simply a messy hand job from his chemistry partner in high school and a few heated make out sessions with one of Dr. Gruber's teaching assistants. He was almost as bad as a virgin, and normally when he would not care what someone else thought about him, he found that he cared a little bit about how The Professor would react if he were to orgasm in such a short time.

But he wasn't going to worry about that, right?

He let himself get lost in the feeling of The Professor bobbing up and down. He let his hand rest on the back of his head, occasionally gripping his hair, but not too tightly. His breathing sped up as he got closer and closer to finishing right there, spilling on The Professor's tongue, which sent a pleasurable jolt through him. Of course, since The Professor was apparently a mind reader, he pulled back and replaced his mouth with his hand. Herbert whined, almost petulantly, but it still felt incredibly wonderful.

Of course it still felt wonderful, and he cried out when his orgasm hit him. The Professor managed to catch most of his release in his hand. Some of it dribbled down his thumb, and he quickly licked it up, and Herbert moaned quietly. He felt his cock twitch despite the fact that he had just come.

How disgusting.

He'd have to look further into that another time.

For now, The Professor was smiling wickedly up at him once more, and Herbert found himself falling to his own knees and pulling him in close.