Sitting in the teachers' lounge, Lucien rubbed the skin around his nose, sighing as he removed his glasses. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his fingers pressing into the tension building behind his eyes. Stacks of exam papers sat in front of him, their red-marked surfaces practically mocking him. He had given his students an extra day to complete the test, thinking it would lead to better results. And sure, some students managed to scrape by with respectable 80s, but seriously? The material he taught was practically spoon-fed! It was so, so easy! How were some of them still making the same mistakes?

Across from him, Professor Wright, Luminara’s reading and writing teacher, sat with a cup of tea in hand, his expression calm as ever. Wright was one of the gentlest souls in the entire school, always looking out for his students and making sure none of them failed. Not because he was an easy grader, but because he believed that if too many students struggled, the fault lay with the teacher, not the students. It was an ideology Lucien admired, even if he couldn’t bring himself to adopt it fully. Some students were just... hopeless.

“Are you quite alright?” Wright asked, his refined British accent making the concern in his voice sound even more proper than necessary.

Lucien scoffed, barely sparing him a glance. Did he look okay? His hair was probably a mess from him running his hands through it, his shoulders ached from hunching over these ridiculous papers, and he was two bad essays away from crumpling into an existential crisis.

“Oh, I’m splendid,” Lucien deadpanned, sarcasm dripping from every syllable as he gestured toward the graded exams. “Never been better, really. Love spending my free time trying to figure out if my students even have functioning brains.”

Wright chuckled, shaking his head slightly as he took a sip of his tea. “Oh, be nice. Not everyone is perfect, as you so often claim to be,” he quipped softly, his lips twitching into an amused smirk. “Well, other than yourself, of course. You do, however, claim that the counselor is perfect.” He teased lightly, chuckling again as he leaned back in his chair.

Lucien’s grip on his pen tightened, his knuckles turning white as he shot Wright a glare. “The counselor is perfect,” he stated, voice firm with no room for argument. His eyes flickered back down to the half-graded papers, but it was clear his thoughts had strayed elsewhere. His grip loosened slightly as a slow, almost smug smile curled on his lips. “Perfect enough to be mine,” he added, tapping the pen against the table rhythmically. “He just... doesn’t know it yet.”

Wright raised a brow at that, his smirk growing as he studied Lucien’s expression. The professor rarely let his guard down, but in this moment, there was a flicker of something in his sharp gaze—possessiveness, certainty, yearning. Wright chuckled again, shaking his head as he set his cup down with a soft clink against the saucer.

“Well,” Wright mused, resting his chin on his hand. “I do believe that if anyone were determined enough to make someone realize their supposed ‘perfection,’ it would be you, dear Lucien.”

Lucien merely scoffed, rolling his eyes before returning to his grading, though the faintest smirk still lingered on his lips.

Lucien was finally on break for lunch. Finally... I can eat. He thought blissfully as he made his way back to his classroom, eager to enjoy the meal he had prepared the night before.

Egg roll salad. Crispy vegetables, seasoned meat, and a perfectly balanced dressing—all packed neatly in his lunchbox. He had also brought a small container of yogurt for dessert and, as a little indulgence, a small piece of rich chocolate cake. Just the thought of it made his stomach growl in anticipation.

As he reached his classroom, he sighed in relief, shutting the door behind him and locking it. No students barging in, no colleagues pestering him with conversation—just a peaceful moment to himself and his food. Setting his lunch down on his desk, he loosened his tie slightly and rolled up his sleeves, ready to dig in.

However, just as he popped open the lid of his box of food, a knock echoed from the door. Lucien froze, his eye twitching slightly. You've got to be kidding me.

He debated ignoring it. Pretending he wasn't here. But then came another knock—louder this time. With an irritated sigh, he snapped the lid back onto his lunch and stood up. Whoever this was had better have a good reason for disturbing his sacred lunchtime.

Lucien yanked the door open, irritation evident in the sharpness of his movements. “What do you ne—” The words caught in his throat the moment his eyes landed on the counselor.

His breath hitched, and for a brief moment, his mind went completely blank. The frustration from being interrupted vanished in an instant, replaced by something much softer, much more eager.

“Oh! Counselor!” His tone shifted so fast it was almost comical, his previous irritation melting into something dangerously close to excitement. He quickly cleared his throat, straightening his posture as a slow, charming smile tugged at his lips. “Splendid timing. What a pleasure to see you.” He gestured toward the classroom, stepping aside to make space. “Won’t you come inside?”

His voice was smooth, inviting, but there was an undeniable glint in his eyes—one that hinted at something possessive, something hungry. Though, whether that hunger was for his abandoned lunch or the person standing in front of him... well, even Lucien wasn't sure.

Just looking at the counselor, he wanted to tear off those clothes and.. and smear his chocolate cake all over the counselor's body and lick it clean. God, he was already getting hard.