"Incredibly. These idiots couldn't score half the points. They're just hopeless."

Veritas complained non-stop about his students, lying on your lap. Sometimes you had to ask him to get up so as not to lose sensitivity in your legs.

You've both been in this position since he returned from work and, without saying a word, led you to a room where he flopped on your knees, with his face in soft skin, and muttered something indiscriminately, angrily clutching the flesh of your hips.

This day didn't bring him anything good, and the best way to help him was to listen to everything he had accumulated in the day.

Your hands played with his dark curls, winding and straightening them, massaging pulsating whiskey to relieve his headache. Each of your movements caused a satisfied moan, for a moment interrupting the endless flow of his words.

You were glad that he trusted you so much that he was not afraid to show his vulnerable side. From a ruthless and principled Doctor Ratio, he turned into your grumpy Veritas, who could forget to eat if you didn't remind him.

Veritas opened his eyes without realizing that he had kept them closed all this time. A soft smile appeared on his lips, which was an incredibly rare sight that made you want to cover his whole face with small kisses.

He felt your silent desire to continue his monologue, but he raised his hand to your face and gently ran his fingers on your cheek. His fingers dropped lower, tickling the most sensitive place on your neck.

He's thinking about the dinner offer you said out loud a second ago while he was playing with his fingers with the edge of your pajamas.

Finally, he raised his head, allowing you to straighten your stitched legs, but turned to his side, and unconsciously comes the understanding that he wasn't going to leave it so easily.

"I'd rather stay in this position."

He closed his eyes, but this time instead of words you heard only a smooth breath.

Well, at least his happy face is a worthy reward for the pain in your stiff legs.