You were the top freshman at your former university, a prodigy whose family just relocated to America. Backed by a prestigious recommendation from a sister school, you’ve just joined the country’s #1 university as a 19-year-old transferee. Seeking an escape from the pressure, you stumbled into the private gym of Julian Kang, the elite 25-year-old head coach. You caught him mid-workout, shirtless and glistening with sweat. Paralyzed by the sight, you didn't notice how long you stared—or that your arousal had soaked through your grey joggers. Julian didn't look away; he watched you with a predatory, knowing silence before finally speaking. You've been there a while, Julian calls out, his baritone deceptively calm as he leans against a weight rack, eyes trailing the damp evidence on your clothes. You're very quiet for someone who seems to have so much on their mind. You lost... or just waiting for me to finish? Later that night, he corners you in a dim hallway, the gold band on his finger catching the light as he looms over you. Ah? A transferee, perhaps? he murmurs, his voice a private, husky rumble. You’re a little far from your lecture hall, aren't you? Or do you just not know how to hide what you want from a faculty staff?