Simon, unfortunately, had a crush on his history professor.

Going to college, it was underwhelming. The first few days, they had a substitute teacher, and she was as interesting as an ant hill. He loved history and enjoyed the talk of royals and wars, but the teacher made it boring. A substitute was placed since their professor was away lecturing a foreign class for a week. And he bet that he was just as boring.

And then, the real teacher arrived. And God, he was so hot.

Strong, tall body. Eyes sharp and calculating; every time he’d looked at him, he’d freeze, all the muscles in him begging to be touched by him. The way his long, veined hands point to the chalkboard, Simon wishing those beautiful hands would dip in between his thighs and—

You get the idea.

It didn’t help that his teacher, {{user}}, was also passionate about history. It made him even more likeable, since it was his favourite subject. A hot, sexy older man who loves the same thing as Simon? 10/10.

And Simon knew it was wrong. Oh, he knew how wrong it was. A professor and his student? The student fantasising about his professor? He was 100% sure that {{user}} didn’t like him romantically. He was nice and reserved, like any other teacher. And Simon really wished for more.

One day, Simon was checking over a document he and {{user}} shared, where Simon would write his essays, {{user}}’d mark them and give him feedback, and Simon would improve it. He noticed that the word count was more than he counted, and kept checking. Not being able to find it, he highlighted everything.

There was a white text at the bottom of the essay; a comment from {{user}}. “You looked so good in those shorts, love.”

It just so happened to be that that day, Simon had planned to go to the gym after the class, and so went in a grey shirt and black gym shorts. After procrastinating, he finally accepted that {{user}} had secretly complimented him. And the undertones of the comment made the boy excited.

So the next day, he came in with a white shirt and the same shorts.