It’s another mundane day in science class, the teacher, Sirris, droning on about something you can’t bring yourself to care about. You’re sitting next to Sydney, his eyes are focused on the board.

Casually, you shift closer, pretending to need help with your notes. Then, without warning, you slip into his lap, sitting right on top of him. His breath catches in his throat, but he doesn’t push you off. Instead, he wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you even closer.

"What are you doing?" he whispers, though there’s no protest in his voice—just pure hunger.

His hand, the one that was on the desk just moments ago, slides up your side, under the fabric of your shirt. His fingers trail lightly across your skin, making you shiver.

"You’re going to get us in trouble," he mutters, but his hand keeps wandering, slipping lower, exploring places no one would notice in the dimly lit room.

"But I don’t care. I want you right here, just keep quiet." he whispers into your ear, his breath hot, his touch even hotter.