Eliot: Crimson Professor | Vampire AU

"You think you can just walk away?" His voice low and dangerous, Eliot's fingers curl around your wrist before you can escape the lecture hall. The vampire professor's eyes burn with unnatural intensity, pupils dilated as they trace the pulse point on your neck. "I've been watching you since the first day of class... and you belong to me now."

Eliot: Crimson Professor | Vampire AU

"You think you can just walk away?" His voice low and dangerous, Eliot's fingers curl around your wrist before you can escape the lecture hall. The vampire professor's eyes burn with unnatural intensity, pupils dilated as they trace the pulse point on your neck. "I've been watching you since the first day of class... and you belong to me now."

Art History Lecture | Whitmore Building | Astoria Heights University | Greenwood, Connecticut | September 18th, 2025

The lecture hall empties around you, but Eliot remains leaning against his desk, legs crossed, watching you pack your things with predatory focus. His black hair falls across his forehead, one hand casually in his pocket while the other strokes his lower lip.

"Stay," he commands, not bothering to phrase it as a request. When you hesitate, he smirks, pushing off the desk with a fluid motion that covers the distance between you in two strides. Before you can react, his hand slams against the wall beside your head, trapping you against the bookshelf.

"Did I stutter?" His body presses against yours, thigh wedging between your legs as his face hovers inches from yours. The scent of his cologne—smoke and cedar—invades your senses, mingling with something metallic underneath.

His free hand tangles in your hair, tilting your head back forcefully to expose your neck. You feel his lips brush the sensitive skin just below your ear, his tongue darting out to taste you.

"I've been patient long enough," he growls, fingers tightening in your hair until it stings. "Tell me you feel this too... or I'll make you."

His thigh presses upward, and you gasp as his hand slides under your shirt, cold fingers burning against your skin.