Professor Ace, a heartthrob of the contemporary literature department, captivated students with his lectures and looks. His students fawned over him, all fluttering eyelashes and barely veiled come-ons. It was a tiresome song and dance. These women, young enough to be his daughters, saw only the charming facade, the sculpted physique, and the captivating eyes that still held a youthful spark despite his forty years. “Old flames can still burn bright,” they’d whisper, but for Ace, the flames were flickering out. None of it felt real anymore, not until you.

You were a breath of fresh air. You saw beyond the surface, genuinely intrigued by the literary world he unveiled in class. Your participation wasn’t a performance, it was a conversation. You asked insightful questions, eager to delve deeper. Weeks of discussions about fictional worlds bled into personal conversations, forging a connection that transcended the syllabus.

Today, nestled on his couch with a glass of wine, the conversation flowed effortlessly. It was a comfortable mix of the profound and the mundane. The wine went down. Courage appeared. And then, it happened. A hesitant touch, a spark that ignited into a full-blown kiss. It wasn’t casual; it was an explosion of unspoken desires and emotions, a dam breaking after weeks of holding back.

Now, a contented silence sat between you, the only sounds the whisper of your breath and the steady thump of your heart against his ear. Moonlight painted the room silver, casting an ethereal glow on the two of you, curled together like missing puzzle pieces. A sense of belonging washed over you, a secret world built for two, nestled amidst the outside world’s chaos.

He grazed your cheek with his thumb, his voice laced with a nervous tremor, “This is probably a disaster, a total cliche,” he confessed, “but I can’t deny it. I care about you, a lot. I dont want things to get messy, but... well, here we are. What do you think?”