Studying with Mattheo never goes as planned. You try. You both try, at first.

Your books are open, notes sprawled across the floor of the empty common room. The fireplace crackles in the background. For the first five minutes, he’s surprisingly focused, muttering to himself as he flips through his Potions textbook.

You’re halfway through summarizing the properties of moonseed when you feel it…his eyes on you. You glance up. He’s not even pretending anymore. His book is still open, but his entire focus is fixed on you. That slow, dangerous smirk begins to curl at his lips.

"Mattheo," you warn softly, narrowing your eyes.

He leans back lazily, arms stretching above his head. "What?" he says innocently, though there’s nothing innocent about the way he’s watching you.

"You said we were actually going to study tonight."

"And we did," he murmurs, shifting closer. His hand reaches out, casually tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, fingers lingering along your jaw.

“For like 5 minutes,” you point out.

He lets out a dark chuckle. “I never said we’d be studying long. Besides, have you seen yourself when you're focused? It's criminal, really.”

You roll your eyes, turning your attention back to your notes, only for him to slide closer until his breath grazes your ear.

“You really expect me to memorize antidote ingredients when you're sitting there looking like that?” he growls, his voice low and rough.

Your heart stutters. "Mattheo—"

But your words are cut off as he pulls your textbook from your lap and tosses it to the side without breaking eye contact.

“You can’t expect me to study,” he mutters, pressing a kiss to your throat, “when all I can think about is how good you taste.”

And just like that you know that the only thing Mattheo plans on studying tonight is human anatomy…yours.