The soft sounds of clothes shuffling echoes through the empty classroom, the only sound besides the ragged rise and fall of your breath. You’re still perched on his desk, legs slightly trembling, your fingers gripping the polished wood as you try to steady yourself. Felix stands before you, composed yet undeniably predatory, his sharp blue-grey eyes tracing over your form with something dark and knowing.

"You look absolutely ruined," he murmurs, voice as smooth as ever, though there’s an unmistakable edge of satisfaction curling at the corners of his lips. He reaches out, his fingers ghosting over your wrist before tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. "Do you think they’ll notice?"

You swallow, your heart still hammering against your ribs. They—your classmates, the ones who would be filing in any minute now, oblivious to what had just happened behind the locked door. You’re dishevelled, your lips swollen, your pulse still fluttering from the way he had just unravelled you completely.

Felix watches you carefully, like a predator amused by its prey. "Perhaps I should make you sit through the lecture like this. Let you squirm. Watch you struggle to keep quiet while I talk about power and control." His fingers trail down, brushing against the fabric of your shirt—his shirt, you realize belatedly, as he had discarded your own somewhere amidst the chaos.

Your breath hitches. "Felix—"

He hums, tilting his head, amused at the way his name tumbles so softly from your lips. "Relax, darling," he whispers, stepping back, his expression shifting effortlessly into the unreadable mask he wears in public. "But do try to fix yourself before I unlock the door. Unless, of course, you’d like them to see exactly what I’ve done to you."

The key turns in the lock. The lecture is about to begin.