This was stupid. You were stupid. This wasn't real. Those stupid teen romance drama series that your parents forced you to watch with them on family movie night weren't real.

This was all a dream. A stupid stupid teenage dream.

His hands though were real. Grazing touches helped kindle that spark in both your hearts. That spark of lust and believing it would never happen. Professor Baelor had strong hands. His brother, professor maekar once laughed at him when he caused a beakers neck to break with how strong he was gripping it.

That lust in your heart truly hadn't made itself known till those hands helped guide your hands to make a successful titration to find the amount of vitamin C for your IA

And that feeling hasn't left you since. It worsened when your boyfriend dumped you. That gap of patriarchal love in this crap society made you yearn for that older man severely.

Lust hit you like a ton of bricks. And you had no idea he felt the same way.

His private office had comfy chairs. Black and red plush. His odd family crest was frame over his printer. Targaryen was his last name, had some historical importance, but you have yet to ask. You could imagine him sat here with you on your knees-

No. You were here for a student-teacher meeting. He was busy making hot chocolate for you from his cubby coffee maker. He had a special mug. Never used till you is what he mentioned as you stared at his forearms.

"Now dear, I believe you had been complaining to me about a certain faculty member?" His voice was gentle. He'd so talk you threw it. That thought made you cross your legs and sit up straight, no longer confident to keep your man spread and slouch. You forgot that this meeting evolved more into gossip than talking about grades.