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Chapter Text

The afternoon air was crisp and biting.

An undeniable icy chill had settled over the earth; neglected by the light of the sun, hidden behind looming clouds, fat and heavy with rain. The brisk day made you thankful for the steaming cup of coffee clutched tightly in your hand, and that you had chosen to don a thicker blazer this morning.

The sound of your thin heels clicking over worn cobblestone echoed through the external halls of Paradis University. Your eyes blinked clear and sharp, head held high to offer warm smiles to the lingering students as you made your way to your designated lecture hall.

The last few months had been just the break you needed from the hustle and bustle of your life in Marley.

You’d been teaching at one of the larger campus' in the heart of the city. You loved what you taught, and you had reached a level of esteem in your personal circle of academia that would make anyone content, even thrilled. Despite the success of your career, you couldn’t help but feel stuck in the cycle of your daily life, unchallenged, and frankly bored with the endless monotony.

When one of your old classmates - a rather obnoxious man by the name of Zeke, who just happened to (unfortunately) share your major - had reached out on a whim to tell you he was quitting his placement at Paradis, and offered you to take the role, despite his sleazy promises that he would put good word in, the answer had been a no-brainer.

The city of Paradis was smaller than Marley by a wide margin, still a considerable metropolis by any account, but there was something different here, a unique energy nestled in between the old heritage buildings, the wide sprawling fields and dense forests - something exciting, alive. There was a distinct air of disconnectedness, as if you were standing on the edge of the earth, entirely separate from anything outside the city lines.

The biggest difference you'd noticed had been the stark shift in culture. Paradis held an authenticity which was a welcome reprieve from the pompous self gratifying types, and deeply ingrained tall poppy syndrome you had come to know back home.

As you breathed in the fresh, cool air of the day, perfumed by the light scent of pine dancing on the breeze, a wave of calm settled over you. You couldn’t help but feel solidified in your decision.

“Good afternoon everyone!” You chirped as you breached the doorway of the lecture hall, taking a moment to steady the steaming cup of coffee on the patterned wood of your desk, lodged between neat piles of paperwork.

The room filled momentarily with a chorus of “Good afternoon Miss”, and you were pleased to note the tone of genuine enthusiasm.

You prided yourself on your work as an educator, and you liked to think that you straddled the thin line of strict and forgiving well. You were by no means a pushover, capable of being absolutely stern when it called for it. You wouldn’t have been one of Marley’s top educators in your field if you were spineless. As long as your students showed you respect; you were fair, and in the short time you had been lecturing here, your students - all dedicated, passionate young minds - had earned something of a soft spot in your heart.

“Alright, so today I thought we could go back over some key concepts in preparation for the exam next week.” You slid a dark, thin laptop out from your bag and slotted in the wireless connector. The projector screen behind you blinked to life, reflecting cool blue light onto your back as the presentation slides loaded.

“How does that sound?” Your eyes flickered up to survey the room. You saw a few grateful nods, a few sighs of relief, a few students crumple back into their seats to relax into the session. You smiled. “Good! let’s get started.”

One of your students rose from his seat and bee-lined to the door, flickering the harsh overhead lights off in a practiced manner, leaving the room sufficiently dimmed.

The few down lights at the rear filled the space with a soft, warm ambiance. Enough light to take notes, but not quite bright enough to interrupt the slideshow. 

You offered him a smile. “Thankyou.”

He nodded briskly, flashed you a soft smile in return, and retook his seat. Settling in, pen in hand.

The lecture was an easy one.

Easy mostly because it was a topic you knew like the back of your hand, a personal favorite. Easy for your students as they had heard most of the content before. Your students had been working hard lately, and it was a Friday afternoon. With the wave of tiredness looming behind your eyelids, you were content to ease into the weekend with a peaceful refresher course.

You settled into the routine of the lecture, the click of the wireless presenter in your hand the only sound in the room aside from the steady flow of your voice, and the distant thrum of occasional raindrops on the glass of the windows. So ingrained in the flow of the presentation you hadn’t even noticed someone else enter the dimly lit room.

The only giveaway that anyone was there at all was the brief flicker of movement in the back of the class whenever a particularly bright slide would flash onscreen. And you could tell who it was immediately.

The campus janitor/handyman was something of an enigma. Levi - you had learned - was a quietly intense, somewhat elusive character.

You’d often be alone, only to turn around and suddenly find him marching a toolbox into your room to fix some wiring, or repair a leaky window. Sometimes you would email maintenance about a particularly creaky desk, or your A/C not working quite right. You’d never hear back from anyone, but the next time you came into your office, your A/C would be streaming cooled air into the room, set to a perfect, comfortable temperature, and the rickety desk would be mysteriously replaced with a shining new one.

In some cases, he’d sneak in during a lecture, unbeknownst to you, like he had today. You didn’t mind, not really. He was quick and quiet, didn’t interrupt you as he went about whatever task he had assigned.

Every so often you’d catch a steely eye flicker toward you from under dark hair as you spoke, you’d assumed something in your marathon of a lecture had finally caught his attention, but found that his eyes didn’t wander to the slide deck behind you at all. They just hovered, dark and intense, on you.

The attention had never ceased to send a shiver up the curve of your spine.

So what, the janitor has a little crush, you'd thought. It wouldn’t be the first time in your life you'd dealt with this type of situation. Not that you were particularly self centered, but you weren’t blind either. You were a successful, intelligent woman, and you put effort into your appearance. Fabric rollers coiled tight in your hair overnight, perfectly plucked eyebrows, sleek stiletto heels, and polished business attire came together to form the image of what you hoped was a refined, respectable woman. You’d learnt long ago, as unfortunate of a fact as it was, and as bitter of a taste it left on your tongue, in business - at least as a woman - looks really were everything.

When you gazed back up, pausing near the tail end of your lecture to take a much needed breath, his eyes were no longer on you, turned to focus instead on one of the down lights at the back of the room, which you had just now noticed the bulb had blown on. 

Turning your own focus back to the presentation at hand, you finished discussing the last slide, thankful to finally be done talking.

You paused for any questions, silently pleased when there were none, then concluded the session.

Students streamed out of the hall leisurely, a few paused near your desk to thank you for the lecture, some lingered to ask you follow up questions privately, or inquire about the content of next weeks exam.

When you were finally left alone, you felt uncharacteristically exhausted by the whole affair. Slumped back to lean a hip onto your desk, you puffed a breath slowly out of parted lips, crossing your arms against the chill that had subtly crept into the room from the cascading door.

Rubbing your hands over your arms in a bid to warm them, your eyes naturally slid over to the only other movement in the room.

Levi was now perched about halfway up a silver ladder, brows furrowed in focus as he unscrewed the light, lithe fingers gripping the flat metal tight. You watched a tendon twitch in his toned forearm, eyes roaming freely over the swell of his bicep, peeking out from under the dark green of the boiler suit he always wore.

“Professor! You’re still here.” The sudden voice snapped you out of your act of mild voyeurism, you felt an uncharacteristic blush flood your cheeks, somewhat guilty at having been caught staring.

Turning your head, you were met with the warm smile of one of your colleagues, Mikhail, a professor of food and nutrition science. He stood in the doorway, dark hair dampened slightly with rain, specks of water droplets spattered over the shoulders of his woolen blazer. You smiled and beckoned him closer with a manicured hand.

“Professor, what a pleasant surprise.” You teased.

Mikhail was one of your closest colleagues, you may even have dared to call him a friend. The first to introduce himself, and buy you a coffee on your first day. He was consistently checking in on you, making sure you were comfortable, inviting you to after work drinks to meet the faculty. He had slowly wormed his way into your daily routine, a friendly, welcome constant. It was a comfort to know you had at least one true friend in your new life, and despite your chastising tone - you liked him.

And, if you had come to know him at all over your short time together, you were sure he was here to spread some ridiculous gossip he had undoubtedly heard from a less than questionable source.

He entered the room and leaned down to press a chaste kiss against your cheek, pushing a Styrofoam cup into your hand. Your skin tingled pleasantly at the warmth, and the familiar scent of green tea leaves wafted to your nose.

“Tea, right? I know you’ve been big on watching your caffeine consumption lately.” Mikhail piped, and you nodded, bringing the cup to your nose to inhale the smooth scent with a sigh of satisfaction.

“You know green tea has just as much caffeine as coffee?” He ribbed, ever the nutritionist, dark eyes sparkling with humor.

You groaned, and rolled your eyes at him, clutching the cup close to chase the warmth. “Let a girl dream, I like the taste anyway.”

He tutted. "Just the sort of delusion I would expect from a literary major." He smiled at you, voice light and teasing.

You watched his doe brown eyes roam the room as he took a slow sip from his own cup, black coffee if you had to bet. He ran a hand through his dark hair, and your eyes caught, perplexed, on the corner of his mouth as it twitched and turned downwards ever so slightly.
Following his gaze, your eyes reached the man at the back of the room, still settled comfortably on the ladder, hands working over the faulty light bulb.

Levi didn’t turn his head, didn’t give any indication at all that he had noticed Mikhail's arrival. 

“So, Mikhail.” You interrupted, brow furrowed slightly at your friends sudden change in attitude.
“What did you find out? that glint in your eye never means anything good.” Your tone aimed for lighthearted, and you were pleased when Mikhail's head whipped around to face you, clearly reminded of why he had traipsed through the cold, rainy weather to see you in the first place.

You were soon deep in the easy flow of conversation.
As you had suspected, nothing but idle gossip, but an entertaining distraction nonetheless. You discovered that Mikhail had caught one of the science professors attempting to smuggle test rats off campus under a lab coat, making you nearly choke on your tea. Though he wouldn't share names, you had your suspicions.

The conversation remained light and relaxed, but you could see the nervous tap of your colleagues fingers against the rim of the Styrofoam cup, the way his eyes kept flickering over to the dark haired man as he worked, seemingly entirely unbothered by your idle chatter.

Lost in the flow of conversation, you barely noticed when Levi descended the ladder, and began making his way down the short steps of the hall towards you, towards the door.

You caught his eyes as he passed, struck suddenly with the intensity of his gaze. Your breath caught. You’d never noticed his eyes were grey.

“Thankyou.” You managed, earning only a slight grunt and a brisk nod before he was gone.

When the man had finally escaped the room, ladder in tow, you heard your colleague breath an honest to god sigh of relief, his eyes glued still to where Levi had been standing in the doorway.

You chuckled and nudged him gently with your shoulder.

“What’s the problem?” You questioned, tone light and chiding as you studied your colleague with curious eyes. “You look like you saw a ghost or something.”

"I shouldn't say..." Mikhail hesitated, eyes down turned, glued onto the swirl of coffee in his cup to avoid your seeking gaze. 

You laughed at that, a genuine, full-bodied cackle of disbelief.
"What? You're telling me that Mikhail - Paradis City's biggest gossip - is refusing to spill?"

You had heard Mikhail spread frankly outrageous, ludicrous stories about nearly everyone on campus remorselessly, countless times without batting an eyelash. You bumped him with your hip, teasing, as you took another sip from your cup, tea now sufficiently cooled.

"C'mon." You pleaded. "Tell me what you've heard about our reserved, serious handyman."

Mikhail frowned, fine lines deepened over his worried brow as he peered at you with wide, nervous eyes. "Okay, but you seriously can't say anything. Don't let him hear you talk about it."

Your smile faltered slightly, skewed by your colleagues sudden bout of seriousness. You couldn't deny the spark of curiosity that had lit at the unusual nature of the whole situation. What could possibly have the typically open, easygoing professor so bottled up?

Mikhail fixed you with an earnest look, thick brows knitted together, letting out a shaky breath before he began.

“Some people say he’s big in the underground." He whispered, hand pulled up to his mouth, peering around the room, eyes wide with worry, as if he was being watched.

"You know, has contacts that run deep, illegal stuff; crime." His voice was hushed low, like he was a teenager up past bedtime, telling a scary story at a sleepover over shushed giggles. "I heard he only took this shitty janitor job to repay some debt to the brass.”

An undeniable sense of relief pooled over you, and you chuckled, wiping a hand over your brows in disbelief. This wasn’t the first time you’d heard the same baseless rumor, despite the short time you'd been in Paradis. It was one of those infamous campus fairy tales, whispered low in the staff break room over hushed voices, or in the hallways by immature students trying to scare each other. You were half convinced the man had made it up himself, just to stop students from littering around campus.

"Mikhail, that's ridiculous. There's no way you actually believe it." You retorted, turning away from him to toss your now empty cup into the dustbin next to your desk. When you straightened back up you saw your colleague shaking his head, face uncharacteristically grim.

“I'm serious, just watch it, okay?” He leaned forward to grip your hands in his, palms warm from the coffee cup as they engulfed yours. You flinched, briefly sobered by the unexpected tone of genuine concern in your friends voice.

You fixed him with an incredulous look, lips still pulled up into a smile.

There was no way the quiet, reserved janitor could be some big shot crime lord. The sheer concept was absolutely far-fetched. You could admit that the man was undoubtedly efficient and intense, maybe bordering on intimidating - sure, but the idea that he was some mafioso, working undercover as a janitor to repay a debt after a big job went wrong, was just some ridiculous rumor spun up by bored, gossiping professors.

Your mind wandered, memories of the flex of his arms, toned and muscled, clearly fortified from use. You thought about the click of his severe, stern jaw, and the swirl of something dark behind those deep silver eyes when he pinned you under his gaze.

You found that you had stopped smiling.

---

Later that night, you had settled well and truly into a mood.

Typically, chats with Mikhail left you feeling lighter, refreshed and comfortable - the perfect way to ease into a weekend of relaxed report writing. But your earlier discussion had left you uncharacteristically ruffled, mood undoubtedly soured.

You picked a loose string from the ottoman of your sofa set thoughtlessly, remnants of cold Italian takeout abandoned at your side as your eyes remained glued to the whir of text, buzzing on your laptop screen. You brought a thin rimmed glass to your lips, savoring the burst of deep red wine on your tongue as you scrolled.

You truthfully hadn’t bothered to do any real research on the history of Paradis before you arrived, it was a big enough town that you'd imagined all sorts of things happened on the daily. After living in a city as large and as diverse as Marley, you’d thought you would have seen next to everything there was to see in terms of what the public was capable of. But to your annoyance, your colleagues comments and generally shaken disposition had sparked your interest, driving a wedge of curiosity deep under your skin.

So here you were, alone in your high rise apartment on a Friday night, one bottle of wine already tucked away, another corked open, and nose buried in your keyboard as you scoured articles about rumors of Paradis' deep rooted criminal empires.

You blinked tired eyes over the screen, clicking onto yet another blue toned link. You watched some catchy, clickbait headline load onto the screen, "MITRAS BANK ROBBED IN FRIGHTENING HOLD UP - WORK OF THE SURVEY CORP?".

Your hungry eyes devoured the article, skipping over blocks of typical text, the same flowery tone as most of the other fluffed up, filler articles. 

Your fingers paused their scroll when you reached the end of the article, where a single photo was embedded. You leaned forward, hunched over the screen, blue light reflecting over the smudged lenses of your glasses. Your heart leapt to your throat.

It was a still, shaky shot, clearly taken amidst the incident in question.

Your eyes roamed over the image. Bank workers sprawled across the floor, unharmed but seemingly frozen in fear, hands thrown over their heads in meek surrender. In the background a few masked individuals - the perpetrators you assumed - stuffed wads of money into bags, some held hefty rifles, their mere presence clearly threatening enough without need to use them. 

Your breath caught when your eyes reached the edge of the shot. A lone man stood to the side, head tilted up to watch the scene, exuding an air of cool intensity you could feel even from the still frame. He held a glittering silver pistol in a leather gloved hand, dark suit pressed neat, firearm polished until it gleamed. Another of the masked men leaned down to whisper something unknown in his ear.

A hard pit formed in your stomach at the spike of raven black hair, at the glint of silver eyes peeking out from behind the black mask. For a brief, heart stopping moment, you could have sworn they flickered up to peer out of the screen at you.

You slammed the laptop shut, blood pounding in your ears.

---

Your soured mood followed you through the weekend, all the way up to Monday and through the entire day of lectures.

You had half a mind to feel sorry for your students, you could feel yourself being short with them, but truthfully couldn't find the energy to maintain a front.

To your collective relief - most of the day was filled by a mock exam, giving your students a welcome reprieve from your simmering annoyance, and giving you a chance to rest your eyes, elbow propped up on the slope of your desk, rubbing your fingers over your brows.

By the time the end of the day rolled around, you were well and truly exhausted. At least the weather seemed sympathetic to your plight, turning dark and stormy in a bid to match your mood. Rain pelted against the thin windows of the lecture hall, the glass rattling in the thrashing wind.

Any stragglers had long since abandoned you, leaving the hall a vacuum of quiet, empty peace.

You sat at your desk, hands tracing mindlessly over paperwork, reports you had neglected over the weekend, due for filing the following week. A long forgotten cup of strong green tea balanced in a delicate ceramic cup to your right.

You groaned to yourself, bringing your elbows up to rest against the desk so you could rub your fingers over the muscles, tensed in your forehead. Your eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion creeping its way back into your bones.

Breaking the quiet serenity of the room, the door to the hall suddenly flew open, evidently caught by a gust of wind, it cracked against the wall with a ‘BANG’.

You jumped in your seat, heart in your throat, eyes blinking open and shooting to the doorway to assess the sudden interruption.

To your utter surprise, and mild dismay, you met the cool, grey eyes of the campus Janitor.

Levi was standing with his broad shoulders pressed up against the door, where he had evidently tugged it closed against the raging wind. He looked windswept, dark hair blackened and glistening with beads of water, the muted green of his boiler suit dyed dark from pelting raindrops.

Your eyes followed the drips of water as they slid down his forehead, sloped over his angled cheekbones, rivets trailing down his toned chest, dipping beneath dark fabric.

His expression was dark, annoyance clearly simmering just under the surface. He brought a hand up to wipe the water from his forehead, sweeping his cropped hair back in the same motion to reveal a sharp undercut. Your mouth was dry.

Levi surprised you by breaking the tense silence first.

"I didn't think you'd still be here, Professor." His voice was even and deep, graveled from lack of use.

You blinked a few times, and opened your mouth to reply, tired mind still dazed from his sudden appearance.

"I'm sorry, did you need something?" You managed, standing up from behind your desk to circle the structure in a bid to be polite, leaning your hip against the opposite end of the table.

He grunted, and shook a few water droplets from his limbs. 

"You said your projector stopped working." Came his rumbling voice, tone flat.

"Yes of course..." You shook your head, eyes closed, and smoothed your hands down the front of your dress to flatten the wrinkles that had cropped up from your lengthy seated position. His eyes caught the motion of your delicate fingers, curved over the front of your hips.

You had remembered sending that email late Friday. So they did receive those messages.

When you opened your eyes again, he was closer, having seemingly taken a few steps further into the room, toward you. You sucked in a breath and reached a hand back to steady yourself, the edge of your pinky finger bumped up against your abandoned teacup, relegated to the side of the desk.

You tilted your head to watch in quiet horror as it tipped, as if in slow motion, sliding over the edge of the dark aged wood.

In an instant, Levi's pale hand shot out to catch it, and you flinched at the sudden motion. His eyes flickered up to observe you, a spark of curiosity glinting in his stormy eyes as he placed the cup delicately back into its saucer.

“You seem nervous, Professor.” His gaze was intense, boring a hole into you. He didn’t look away from your face, not even when he slid the saucer expertly to the opposing edge of the desk.

Your heart was pounding, pinned under the intensity of his watchful gaze. Memories of your weekend research swirled to your mind; that shaky photograph, those same icy grey eyes peeking out from under a slick black mask. You took a weary step back.

He tilted his head, still observing you with a mellow interest. He followed your movement, took a calculated step toward you.

You felt your tailbone hit the firm edge of the desk.

“Care to explain?” He drawled, cocking an angled eyebrow at you.

Your fingers gripped the desk behind you, knuckles white, polished nails tapping against the sealed wood.

“Your-...” You swallowed, cleared your throat, steadying yourself. “Your... uh... reputation.” You tried to emulate the voice you used when lecturing - strong, confident. What came out was nothing short of a squeak.

He took a moment to consider this in silence. Then took another deliberate step forward, crowding your space.
You gulped, and his eyes tracked the movement of your throat. He hummed to himself at your lack of reply.

“And that makes you nervous?” He coaxed, not bothering to deny anything you were insinuating, studying your face with a burning intensity. Eyes lowered to watch the way your pink lips parted in a shaky breath, fixed on the slow dilution of your pupils. 

Your mind, along with your heart, was racing.
The curated image of the quiet, attentive janitor was dissolving in front of you, replaced with the reality of the man you realised you had been catching glimpses of from behind the veil; when those dark eyes would glint out at you from the back of your lecture hall, low-lidded and predatory, just like how he was looking at you now.

Mikhail's worried tone echoed somewhere in your mind, a soft warning bell, far away, chiming distantly through the haze of fear and desire clouding your brain.

“No.” He continued, voice like tattered velvet. You felt a shiver roll down your spine.

Then he leaned his head in, so close to your ear you could feel his cool breath prickle goosebumps over the delicate skin. Deep voice dipped so low you strained to hear him over the sound of your pulse, pounding hot in your ears.

“I think it turns you on, Professor.”

You released a shaky breath, a glorified whine. 

You felt his hand curve up your jaw, still ice cold and damp from the rain. The contact of his skin, finally brushed up against yours was searing.

His body pressed into yours, pinning you firmly against the desk. He pulled his head back to watch you, eyes glinting with dazzling curiosity and an undeniable spark of danger. Your body buzzed with adrenaline, with fear, with the burning desire beginning to pool into a pit in your lower stomach.

“So perfect.” His brows twitched almost imperceptibly, running a finger over your lips - coated in pristine, bloody lipstick. You felt the burn of his gaze as he brushed a thumb over the soft skin of your open mouth thoughtfully, smearing the red across your cheek.

His eyes flitted back up to yours. “Gonna ruin you.”

"Please..." You found yourself whimpering, hand trailing up to grip loosely around his wrist where he cupped your face, eyes wide, peering down at him through your lashes. 

He rubbed his thumb in soft circles over your jaw, turning your head to study the curves of your face. You felt helpless, letting him push your cheeks together, turn your face this way and that, studying you like you were an insect pinned in a frame, like you were prey.

"You know me, don't you?" He queried, eyes flickering up to meet your gaze. You gulped, the motion tight and uncomfortable against the pull of his hand, bobbing the stretch of your throat where he was holding you in place. You knew what he was really asking.

You nodded your head. He hummed.

"Too smart for your own good."

Then, to your utter shock, his lips were crushed up against yours.

Your eyes fluttered closed, and you let out a tiny whimper when you felt the brush of his tongue over your lips, felt his teeth nip at your soft skin.

His thumb dug hard into the hinge of your jaw, and your mouth propped open. You felt his tongue slide inside, rolling up against yours in a heated, vulgar kiss.

Your mind was fuzzy. He tasted like bitter green tea and mint.

Breaking the kiss, he released you from his grip to take a step back. You were panting, breathless from the intensity of his grasp.

He raised a hand, breaking your focus, and spun his finger in a twirling motion. "Turn around."

You flushed, not fully trusting your legs to keep you steady; reduced to jelly by the dizzying mix of emotions. You shuffled until you were facing away from him, back turned, fingers tracing the wood of the desk to keep your balance.

Levi was silent, and you made a small sound, jumped slightly, when you felt his cool hand brush up against the nape of your neck, slip your hair to one side so he could grip the glittering zipper at the back of your dress.

You held your breath when you felt him begin to tug the zip down, gasping as you felt the ghost of his breath over your goose bump prickled skin, felt him press a surprisingly tender kiss to the crux of your shoulder as he stripped the fabric from you.

Free from the confines of the dress, you turned back around, face burning warm, hand coming up instinctively to curve over your abdomen in a foolish attempt to shield yourself, to retain some dignity as you stood in the cold room, shivering in nothing but your underwear, sleek black nylon stockings, and your heels.

"None of that." Levi tutted at you, shook his head. "Let me see you." His tone was expectant.

Resolve well and truly dissolved, you dropped your arms to your sides, shuddering slightly in the crisp air of the room. You watched his face curl in satisfaction, followed his eyes, dark and hungry as they roamed over your exposed skin, devouring the sight of you so exposed, reduced to this, just for him.

Ever one for fairness, he unclasped the top button of his boiler suit, and you watched, eyes low lidded, locked on the drag of the silver zipper as slid it down. He rolled his broad shoulders, tugging off the soaked green suit.

Your hungry eyes soaked in the reveal of a crisp, skin-tight white singlet underneath, sticking to the skin of his abdomen, soaked through and near transparent from the rain. He slipped a hand under the fabric of the undershirt to tug it up slightly, out of the way. You watched the flash of exposed skin, curved abs above the waistband of dark boxers and a littering of dark hair amongst a scatter of pale scars. 

Levi fixed you with a look, nodded his head back in an unmistakable demand; 'Up'.

You scrambled, rolled your hips up onto the desk and shimmied back, letting him slot between your thighs, thin heels tracing the ground on either side of his legs.

His hands were on you immediately, smoothing up your thighs over the sheen of your sheer, dark tights, following the seams with teasing fingers up to where they crossed over. You keened under his touch, could feel the steady build of tension between your legs, already aching.

Without warning, Levi slid cool fingers along the seam of your clothed crotch, tracing the little floral patterns of your panties where they peeked out under the shadow of the nylon with the tip of his finger. You flushed, letting out a small whine, cursing yourself for choosing today to wear such embarrassing underwear. 

“Cute.” He commented, tone dark and teasing. 

He pressed two steady fingers against your clothed pussy and pressed hard through the fabric, wiggling the digits in a harsh rub.
You shuddered, a broken whine leaving your lips at the sudden sensation, even dampened by the layers of cloth.

He hummed, voice softened slightly. “Right here, huh?”

When you peeked an eye open, he had lowered himself to the ground, kneeling. Eyes locked on to where your legs were propped open. A pang of desire settled deep in your stomach at the dizzying realization that his face was level with your parted thighs.

He looped his hands under the meat of your thighs, strong forearms locking your legs in place, fingers gripping at the plush flesh to tug you to the edge of the desk. You dropped your legs open wide in response, wiggling your hips, needy.

Your breath hitched in your throat when he flicked those darkened, sultry eyes up to meet your gaze, saw the sliver of silver behind his pupils, blown wide. He dipped his head, leaned in close to puff a hot breath over your damp panties, holding your gaze as you shivered in his grasp.

Without breaking eye contact, he craned his head, dipping down to press his tongue flat and lick a slow, wet strip up over your sealed, clothed pussy.

Your mouth dropped open, letting out a small breathy whine at the obscene sight, at the dull sensation of his hot mouth pressed over your core through the barrier of fabric.

Breaking the heated eye contact, he lifted his head back and groaned, trailed lithe fingers up the smooth, perfect black nylon to grip at the seam. You bucked your hips up in surprise when you felt him dig his fingers into the thin fabric, heard the rip as he tore the sheer stockings open effortlessly. 

"Levi..." You croaked, tilted your head to lean against your shoulder, unsure what you were even asking him for.

He ignored your cry, focused entirely on the new visual of your pretty pink floral panties laid bare, soaked through and glistening.
Brushing a thumb over the wet fabric, he watched through low-lidded eyes, entranced at the slide of his finger over you.

He hooked a slender finger under the fabric of your panties and pinched the fabric, tugging down, pressing the damp cloth taut over your throbbing clit, then back up, nice and slow. You hissed, and your hips stuttered, bucking up to chase the teasing burst of pleasure.

He chuckled, watching the shape of you through the cloth for a few more moments before he slid them to the side, you flinched as the cool air of the room hit you fully, over sensitive from his teasing.

Your jaw dropped open, eyes threatening to roll back when he finally mouthed a gentle kiss over your throbbing clit, pressing his lips flat to roll his hot tongue over your sensitive bud.

You cried out into the empty air, threw your head back, unable to do anything but squirm against the confines of his lean arms, locking your hips in place around his head.

Breaking contact, he released his mouth from you with an obscene 'pop', and slid your panties back over your pussy, still glimmering with his spit.

You were huffing out little pants, eyebrows knitted together, disappointed at the sudden lack of contact, watching as he leaned back on his heels to stand up.

Levi’s dark eyes flicked up to yours, and you watched, dizzy with need, as he wiped his fingers over his lips, tongue darting out to lick away a smear of your arousal.

”Just wanted a taste.” He rasped, as he hooked a thumb over the waistband of his dark boxers and tugged down.

You licked your lips, eyes glued to where his cock sprang free, curved up and pressing an angry head against the dark trail of hair spattered down his lower stomach. You whined, slid your thighs along the edge of the desk, a vein attempt to gain any kind of much needed friction.

"So impatient." Levi chided, tutting, capturing himself in his hand, sliding his palm up and down lazily. "No wonder your students are so stuck up." 

If your mind wasn't so doused and feverish with lust, you might have found the energy to bite back, defend yourself. But with his hand trailing slow and teasing pinches up and down your hip bone, and the sight of him as he stroked his heavy cock in slick pumps into his hand, your mind was positively blank.

"Go on, roll over." He whispered, voice dripping with faux sweetness.

Without thought, you stood up on shaky legs, feet aching in your stilettos as you turned your back to him, and leaned forward to bend over the desk. Lifting your hips up to present yourself, cheeks blushed pink to match your soaked panties. You heard him exhale, felt the burn of his gaze over the curve of your ass, resting on your pussy, peeking out from the shreds of dark nylon still coating your thighs.

"Real pretty." He commented, voice rumbled and teasing. "Should wear this all the time, Professor." He dipped a finger under your panties once again, tugging them to the side to slip his cock up against your dripping, bare pussy.

You shuddered, and pushed your ass back against him, whimpering against the little sparks of pain as he pushed in and began to stretch you open.

The polished surface of the desk was smooth and cool against your warm, clammy skin, you tilted your head back as best you could, cheek pressed up against the dark wood, seeking his eyes.

"Please, Levi." You keened when you met his gaze, wiggled your hips back against him.

He fixed you with a heated stare through dark lashes. For a desperate, fleeting moment you thought he was going to tease you some more, pull out, chastise you. But to your relief, it seemed his patience had finally worn thin. He gripped the flesh of your hips tight, and started to roll his hips, eyes dropped low to watch the way your needy pussy sucked him in.

You dropped your head to the desk, eyes rolled closed, bracing against the immediate waves of pleasure shooting up your spine as he worked his way inside, bumping the tops of your thighs against the edge of the desk with each thrust, thumb still hooked around the band of your panties, holding them to the side.

You let out a small noise of surprise between huffs of pleasure when he tugged your leg up onto the desk, bending your knee forward to spread your thighs open wide. You felt his palm rest flat over the small of your back, pressing down hard, forcing your hips to arch up into him. You moaned uncontrollably at the new sensation, his cock stuffed into you nice and deep, bumping up against that soft, sensitive spot with each targeted thrust.

You thought distantly of how you must look, bent over your own desk by the campus janitor, pristine tights torn open, red lipstick smeared sloppily over your cheek, one sleek heel slipping off the arch of your foot as he pounded into you.

His stormy eyes were blown wide, lids dropped low, stuck on the way his narrow hips bumped against your ass with each thrust, sending ripples up the supple skin. 

“Look at you Professor, letting a lowly janitor fuck this perfect pussy, huh?” He teased, hand coming up to grip the curve of your hip, kneading the soft skin, using it to leverage the unwavering roll of his hips, starting to fuck you properly.

You whined, mouth opening and closing in an inaudible babble as you tried to conjure up a single coherent word to say, mind frazzled and buzzing dimly with pleasure. The skin of your cheek slid over the smooth wood of the desk, jammed forward with each thrust, slick and wet with your pooling spit.

“Shh i know, feels good, doesn’t it baby?” He purred, leaning forward to drape his toned abdomen over the curve of your spine, nipping at the fevered skin of your shoulder, lips pressed flat to suck a bruise into the smooth skin.

You nodded your head mindlessly, squeaking out a sharp noise of surprise when his palm came down to slap the swell of your ass, hard. The sharp bud of pain adding a spark to the pool of heat simmering in your lower stomach.

“Speak up. Use your words.” His voice was a knife, cutting through the fog of hazy pleasure in your mind.

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, flooding your vision, beads pooling on your dark lashes as you tilted your head back, lips parted to answer him.

“hah-...Yes sir, feels so so good.” You sobbed, squirming under the pressure of his body, his warmth pinning you to the desk. "Please don't stop."

He pressed a chaste kiss over the blooming mark on your shoulder.

“That's it. New you were dirty deep down, princess." His hands smoothed over your forehead, brushing stray tendrils of hair back away from your pink dusted face, earning a sigh from you. 

Levi slid his hand through your sweat dappled hair, twisting until he had a single, coiled ponytail before he wrapped it around his palm and tugged up. You squealed at the sting of pain sizzling over your scalp, body cinching up, spine straightened to follow the pull of his hand, abdomen pulled taut and legs shaking, tense with the effort of keeping yourself upright.

Your head spun at the sudden gravitational change, and you distantly registered him slide his other arm across your collarbones, over the delicate skin of your neck, locking you in a makeshift headlock as he continued to pound up into you relentlessly.

Your shoulders pressed up against his chest, back arched, pushing back down desperately to meet each of his steady thrusts, moaning out little 'ah' sounds with each frantic roll of your hips. Your eyes squeezed shut against the simmering coil of pleasure, threatening to boil over with every slide of his cock inside. 

You felt his lips pull into the ghost of a grin where they were pressed up against the back of your neck, panting hot breaths over the shell of your ear. You keened, wrapped loose shaking fingers over his toned forearm crossed over your throat, dug your nails into the skin there.

"Look at you, all drunk on cock." His voice was softened, bordering on affectionate.

You could only moan back in response, a low, pathetic sound as you rocked your hips back against him.

He huffed, panting, eyes blown dark and hazy as he wrapped your hair once again around his palm, tugging gently as he ground his hips into you, thrusts turned wide and sloppy. Your moans and whines were pitched high and needy now, squirming against where he held you in place, clenching and twitching helplessly around his cock.

Releasing your hair from his grip, he snaked his hand down over your abdomen, curved to press against your lower belly, fingers pushed down into your skin to feel the bulge of himself, rutting up inside you.

Your jaw dropped open, rendered mindless by the feeling of him so deep inside. Drool was pooling at the corner of your mouth, eyes glossy and glazed over, jostled limply with each thrust.

"Gonna be a good girl and let me cum inside too, Professor?” His voice was dropped low, whispered soft and gritty between pants, right into your ear.

You nodded your head frantically, whined low in your throat, the sound debased and filthy. He hummed, and you felt the satisfied vibration in his chest from where he was pressed up against you. 

When his hand finally trailed down through your dark curls, dipping into your soaking folds to roll his fingers over your neglected clit in tight, hard circles, you were done. 

Stars danced in your vision, behind your eyelids, squeezed closed. In your distant, pleasure hazed mind you registered your own wanton moan as you came, along with a pang of pain. Levi's teeth grazed against your shoulder, hips stuttering, then you were falling forward, bent over once more and pushed into the desk hard enough to bruise.

You felt the roll of his forehead, pressed and rubbing against the skin between your shoulder blades as he muttered out curses and low groans, grinding himself into you, hips stuttering. Grey eyes dazed, drooped low to watch you clench helplessly around his pulsing cock as he filled you up.

Your vision was fuzzy, blurred at the edges when the motion finally slowed to a stop, body completely limp against the smooth wood of the desk.

The room was silent, aside from your collective, heavy breathing, and your short, distant little whines as you rode out the residual sparks of pleasure, twitching mindlessly around where he was still buried inside. 

You sighed when you felt one of his hands trail up across the expanse of your back, the motion deceptively warm and comforting.

His palm came to rest over the back of your head, and the distant pang of an alarm triggered somewhere in your pleasure hazed mind.

Slender fingers curled, wrapping around the nape of your neck, gripping tight, pushing down to keep your head pinned against the wood of the desk.

You peeked an eye open, brows furrowed, and a fresh burst of fear lit your frayed nerves alight when you peered back over your cheekbone to meet his eyes.

Levi’s gaze was burning hot and dark from where he stood above you. Meeting your glassy eyes, he leaned forward, craned his head to whisper, hushed and soothing sweet into your ear.

"You're good at keeping secrets, aren't you, Professor?"

Letting your body go limp and weightless under him, you swallowed, and croaked out an answer.

"Yes, sir." 

You felt his cock twitch inside you, felt him purr, and press an open mouthed kiss to the soft, heated skin of your neck.

You think you'd take this secret to the grave.

Chapter Text

"What do you mean, he quit?" 

Your shrieked exclamation echoed through the near empty corridors of Paradis University, catching the attention of lingering students, their previously averted, down turned heads snapped toward you with barely concealed curiosity, narrowed eyes brimming with interest.

You slapped a hand over your mouth as soon as the sound left you, shooting an apologetic look to your colleague, who currently stood across from you in the corridor. You were both huddled together in the corner one of the main halls, where you had originally hoped to get a little privacy to discuss Mikhail's newest findings.

The man in question shook his head slightly, wincing at your sudden outburst.

"Well..." He sighed, tutting his tongue in mild disappointment. "I'm sure half the student body knows now."

You fixed Mikhail with an apologetic look, as genuine and heartfelt as you could muster, pulling your hand from your lips to mouth a silent, sheepish 'oops' in his direction.

“I’m sure the rest of the staff is pleased to see the Janitor go.” He retorted dryly. “We won’t have to worry about going missing if we leave a dirty coffee mug in the staff kitchen anymore.”

Mikhail rolled his eyes at you with no real heat and nodded his head back, gesturing you to follow as he began walking back down the hall toward his classroom. You jumped to action, almost slipping as you jogged lightly to meet your colleagues notoriously lightening quick pace, falling quickly into step beside him.

"I'm sorry Mik, it just surprised me a little." You murmured, mouth tugged down into a frown.

Mikhail studied you from the corner of his eye, narrowed in mild suspicion, gentle gaze suddenly sharp and poking.

"I'd almost think you look disappointed."

He gasped in mock pain when you barreled your shoulder into his, shoving him a little off course. You huffed, crossing your arms tight and protective over your chest, bottom lip jutted out in an accusatory pout, fixing him with a furious expression.

"Don't start this again please. I already told you, whatever ideas you have rolling around in that imagination of yours are just that - imagined!"

Your colleague offered no fighting response, but continued to eye you in silence as you traipsed along the deserted hall beside him, clearly biting his tongue, a gesture you knew he didn't reserve for many people, and that you appreciated. 

You'd kept your promise, your lips had remained sealed about the events of that stormy night a few months ago, sewn together by a blood red thread. But Mikhail had a nose for lies, and his instincts for digging up a story were razor sharp.  No matter how many times you denied it, no matter how many bribes of perfectly brewed coffees or his favorite protein balls that you offered, the iron willed man still wouldn't let it go.

Still, he was at least tactful enough not to accuse you outright of fucking the school janitor in your lecture hall, even if he was convinced that's exactly what had occurred.

You puffed out a slow breath of air, face tilted down, eyes locked onto your shoes as you walked in a surprisingly tense silence. Your eyes roamed over the worn leather, an uncharacteristically sensible pair of loafers that had wormed their way into your otherwise extravagant wardrobe. You frowned. When had you become such a bore?

Mikhail's newest bite of Paradis University gossip had honestly come as something of a shock, your earlier reaction testament to that. But as you walked the emptying halls, kicked a pebble long the worn cobblestone bricks beneath your feet, watched it roll along the slate, you couldn't deny that you had seen it coming.

The glint of something bright white and sharp had caught your attention, beaming in the fuzz of your peripheral.

When you turned your head, seeking the sudden flash of light the window, past the fingerprint tainted glass to the courtyard outside you couldn't help but furrow your brow in confusion at the odd sight that greeted you.

Your eyes roamed over the body of a black SUV, pulled into the front of the courtyard, stationary, with its engine still running. Its exterior was buffed and polished smooth as a hunk of obsidian, its model badge scrubbed off, windows tinted rich black, much darker than you were sure the legal limit permitted. sliding up the smooth lines of its panels, your gaze settled on the side mirror, catching the sunlight, reflection glinting into your classroom as a man in a sharp black suit tugged the door open and held in place patiently, revealing a dim, dark interior.

Your lips parted, letting out a tiny slip of air as you watched a dark haired man dressed in a simple white button up and slacks step into view, even from behind his shoulders seemed tense, prickled with annoyance as he sauntered toward the waiting vehicle, tugging at his crinkled shirt sleeves. You watched the man holding the door freeze, tense slightly in the bristling presence of the shorter man.

You held your breath, felt yourself lean forward, inching your way closer to the window as if you could materialize through it, watching the dark haired mans head turn. You watched sharp cheekbones rotate into view, familiar grey eyes, sharp and hot as smothered flames settling on you, intensity piercing you even through the smudged glass.

"Uh.. miss?"

The sudden insertion of one of your students voice pulled you from your focus, and you snapped back to the present, finding your brow narrowed almost to a painful degree, face flushed. You swallowed, cleared your throat in an effort to compose yourself.

"I'm sorry, I was just thinking about what a beautiful day it is." You offered smoothly, fixing the room with a pinched smile. "Should we take the rest of the lecture out on the grass?"

Excited murmurs filled the room, and you breathed a slow sigh of relief, watching students begin to file out into the hallway, distant murmurs and giggles leaking out into the warm summer air, dancing along the breeze.

You couldn't help the frown tugging at your lips when you turned your face back toward the window, and found only the serene, still courtyard gazing back at you, black car seemingly swept away into thin air.

"Anyway, enough about that."

Mikhail's voice tugged you back to the present, your friend evidently bored by the mildly uncomfortable silence that had settled over the both of you, and more than happy to drop the topic, and breeze onto the next, adaptable as ever.

"Shouldn't you be focusing on your review? Is it true the dean himself is on the panel?"

You groaned, brought a hand to your face and pinched the bridge of your nose tight between your fingers.

"No, the Dean retracted his inquiry, but that damn Head of Department just won't let up about how I'm 'just not a good fit for Paradis'." You retorted, fingers quirked into quotation marks, voiced dropped low in a mocking impression of the bitter old man that you honestly thought was pretty convincing.

"The stuck up prick can't handle that I wasn't born and raised here." You complained, a fresh coal kicked into the fire, lit beneath you, little flames of bone deep rage lapping up.

"I don't even know what i did. I've been nothing but sweet to the guy, I'm pretty much kissing his ass everyday! It's nauseating."

Mikhail slowed to a halt, and you followed suit. He turned suddenly, clapped a hand over your shoulder, jostling you a little. The expression he fixed you with was genuinely sympathetic, but in true Mikhail fashion, a little undercurrent of mischief swirled below. You were trained well enough to spot that troublesome habit a mile away.

"You know what I always do before a big meeting?" He offered, clasping your shoulder in his grasp.

You couldn't help but smile a little in response, despite the obvious trap you were falling square into, and you arched an angled brow at him suspiciously. He slapped your shoulder, beaming a wide, toothy grin.

"Go and get blind!" He finished, released you from his grasp to fix you with a proud expression, nodding as if he'd just revealed to you the blueprint for life.

You burst out laughing. "What? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard."

Mikhail was shaking his head when you finally recovered from your giggling fit, and regardless of the questionable nature of the mans ideas about review preparation, he had succeeded in getting you to do something you weren't sure you still had in you - laugh.

"It works every time! Let loose for one night, stop worrying, then you'll be nice and relaxed for the big day!" Mikhail whined, clearly expecting you to have taken his word as gospel. "Just trust me - have I ever led you astray?"

You chuckled, twisting to the side to resume your trek toward his office, nudging him playfully as he matched steps with you. 

"You really want me to answer that?"

That night, you found yourself sat cross-legged on your sofa, the cheap sushi you had picked up on your way home abandoned on the ottoman, attention entirely absorbed by the blinding light of your laptop screen, perched on your tangled legs.

Huh, Déjà vu.

Mind numb,well and truly exhausted, you blinked, finding that your eyes had been doing nothing more than tracing the letters, running over the same line of the report over and over again.

You groaned, slid you glasses up to rub your eyes, felt them burn, dry and overworked beneath the push of your fingers.

In the brief eclipse of static darkness you found yourself thinking once again about the pinched face of the deans receptionist, contorted and sickeningly sweet as she handed you that pale pink slip of paper - your formal warning slip.

Your throat had burned as you fled the office with a curt nod, jaw set tight, lips locked together to hold back the flurry of emotion souring behind your clenched teeth.

Only when you were safely past the border, the thick door of the office closed tight behind you, finally hidden from the prying, hungry eyes of the leadership team did you finally let your tears fall, finally let free the shaky gasp you had been holding, wrapped up tightly inside.

And for a few moments you just stood there, slumped against the door, body convulsing lightly as you sobbed in near silence. You'd always had good control of your emotions, always been able to keep a handle on them, keep bottling them up and up and up inside. The only issue being that once the dam was broken, it was impossible for you to screw the lid back on.

Somewhere down the hall, something cracked lightly, the sound loud enough to startle you out of your spiralling thoughts.

You jumped a little in place, eyes shooting to the sudden source of noise, frantically wiping tears from your cheeks with your shirt sleeve - already wrinkled from your earlier nervous tugging. You were sure you were doing nothing more than smearing your dark eye makeup across your flushed face alongside your tears.

Your stomach churned. To your dismay, emerging from the nearby maintenance closet, was none other than the janitor. Levi.

In his typical detached fashion, he was utterly silent when he turned to face you, mop in hand, those cool grey eyes slipping over your face, narrowed slightly in assessment. They moved down to the slip of paper, clutched tight in your hand, then past you to the door pressed to your back 'Deans Office' printed in bold letters, plastered to the frosted glass. His eyebrow twitched, the motion so light, and the man so far away that you almost didn't catch it through your bleary vision.

You sniffled, paused your frenzied wiping. He'd already seen you, what was the use in trying to hide the fact that you, a fully grown woman, were standing out in the hall like a misbehaving child throwing a tantrum? You let a rogue tear roll down over your cheek and rest at the corner of your red bitten lips. Absentmindedly, your tongue darted out to lick the salt away. Levi was still watching you with that same unidentifiable expression, and his jaw twitched. 

What was that fickle emotion swirling behind his eyes, simmering beneath that impenetrable slab of wet slate - Annoyance? Pity? You felt your chest ache.

Before you could come to a conclusion, you watched him huff a breath through his nose, before he turned his back and began to make his way down the hall without a single word.

You sighed and curled up, laptop snapped closed and deserted, rolling onto your side to gaze out your large apartment window. You let your eyes roam freely over the glittering city skyline, at the buildings caught in the fiery glow of sunset, amber coals still burning hot along the horizon.

Your mind wandered back to Mikhail, your most trusted colleague, someone you'd come to call a friend in these exceptionally tough few weeks. He'd been placed at Paradis University for years, and you'd never seen a single day go by where the man wasn't smiling, even if it was at the expense of others. Maybe he'd picked some survival skills up after all.

You gritted your teeth, flung yourself off your sofa and started a determined course toward your bathroom.

Fuck it.

By the time you were out on the streets, strutting over the cobblestone, catching stray beams of light from flickering overhead street lamps after fleeing the warmth and safety of your cab, you had almost entirely convinced yourself that taking Mikhail's advice was a gigantic mistake.

A sudden gust of wind whipped through the street, and you shivered, hugged yourself tighter, freshly painted fingers gripping the outside of your bare arms tight. You don't know what you'd been thinking when you'd gotten dressed. Maybe the half bottle of wine you'd tossed back as you slathered makeup over your face had gotten to your head, or maybe it was the lingering memory of those predatory, heated silver eyes that had caused you to rifle through to the back of your closet, and tug on a skin tight, outrageously short number that you hadn't worn since your much younger and much wilder college years. 

At least you'd made a somewhat sane decision when it came to your footwear. After all the knee high leather boots were proving to be your only source of warmth standing out on the deserted street, your shins the most covered part of your frame. You rubbed your arms, shivered lightly and soldiered on down the path, toward the bustling city corner up ahead, where the distant thrum of music and muffled voices was streaming out.

When you finally breached the barrier into the club, you were almost knocked over by the sheer flurry of sensations that pummeled you on entry.

The bass was slow, so deep and mellow you could feel the reverb in your chest, like the thrumming of birds wings against your rib cage. The DJ spun sultry house beats from an elevated pedestal in the center of the floor. The scent of cigar smoke and heavy layers of perfume and cologne made your head spin. Soft lights glinted red and white through the dark space, laser pinpoints needling your eyes every so often as they bounced throughout the room, sliding over the curves and swaying forms of dancing bodies packed thigh to thigh throughout the club. 

According to your Paradis native friends - 'The Wall' had been around for decades, and had swapped hands countless times, but the name never changed, and neither did the atmosphere.

It was sleazy; no doubt about that, but there was a simple kind of beauty in its unfiltered vibe - its rawness. A gathering ground for all kinds of people, and it had certainly had its fair share of fame in the headlines of Mitras Daily too, the government even threatened to shut the place down once or twice. But despite it all, as you stood on the precipice, gazing in on the grinding, sweaty bodies, feeling the bass pound in your chest - you found that it was almost elegant. With its high ceilings and red velvet lounges, smooth polished concrete underfoot and glitzy gold awnings glinting out in the beams of laser light. 

Well, it was as elegant as a nightclub at 1am could be.

Good thing you didn't need elegant tonight.

Taking a deep, grounding breath, you flicked your hair over your shoulder and made a beeline to the bar. You immediately ordered two shots alongside the most expensive cocktail on the menu, not bothering to even trial your eyes over the ingredients, as if you could even hope to read them in the dim, hazy lighting anyway.

The bartender was a smooth faced, pretty woman, who didn't bat an eye as she took your order, nodding before she lined up your two shots in quick succession.

You slid loose bills across the bar, wrapped a manicured hand around the first shot glass, felt it chilled and smooth beneath the pads of your fingers. You brought the glass up, a grateful salute to the bartender before you tilted your head back, felt the slow burn of tequila hot down your throat. You took the next in quick succession.

It wasn't too long after - just as the burning of your two shots began to settle in your belly, warming your limbs all the way down to your fingertips as you tapped them along the bar, waiting for your cocktail -  that you felt the presence of another warm body slip into the empty space beside you.

"Hey." Came a low, smooth voice from between beats of the music.

You internally rolled your eyes. What a remarkably dull opening line. 

You tilted your head, peaked at the stranger through the corner of your eye, distantly pleased to see that it was a young man saddled up beside you.

He stood, more of a lean than anything, propped against the bar beside you, arms crossed loosely over his chest in a lazy manner that read as decidedly cocky.

His eyes were lidded low, slightly fuzzy, unfocused as if he had been sampling more than just the bars offerings that night, black pupils swallowed what even in the dim lighting you could tell was usually a dazzling green. The beginnings of a smirk danced over his tanned, handsome face as he looked you over shamelessly.

You tilted your head, settling your chin over your curled fist, elbow propped up on the bar, considered him in turn.

Pretty frat boys like him usually weren't your type. Still, wasn't the point to let loose tonight?

Straightening up, you turned your body fully to face him, hip propped against the smooth metal of the bar.

"Hey." You finally replied, voice smooth and polished, admittedly little evocative of when you lectured, a bad habit. God you needed to get out more.

If he caught anything underlying in your tone, he didn't make it known - face still settled in a relaxed smile.

"What's a pretty lady like you doing all on your lonesome?"

You laughed at that, turned to pickup the glass the bartender slid toward you, pleased at the heavy weight of the crystal in your hand as you brought the cocktail up to your lips. You swallowed. An old fashioned, you thought.

"Does that type of line usually work for you, kid?" You questioned, taking another slow sip.

He cocked a thick brow at you, light amusement evident on his face.

"Yeah, usually does." He replied smoothly, smile cracked into a grin that would have almost looked sleazy on a less handsome face. You couldn't help but smile along with him. Guy was an undeniable charmer. He cheesed back at you, knew he had you hooked.

"Name's Jaeger."

You registered the DJ switch the track, a fast paced electronic track replacing the smooth, sultry beats, and the stranger leaned down to speak to you over the near deafening music. You hummed, finding yourself pleasantly buzzed by the alcohol.

You watched a thin gold chain slip past the low cut of his shirt collar, roll over his angled collarbones, blinding gold catching the low light, contrasting against his warm, tanned skin.

"Didn't answer my question."

You took a slow sip of your drink, rolled it around in your mouth, felt the alcohol sting at your tongue. You swallowed, and his eyes dropped to watch your throat bob.

"I'm bored." You answered, sighing, and swirled the heavy glass in a delicate hand.

"I could fix that."

You arched a brow at that, snorted a little.

"Yeah?"

He grinned, leaned in a little closer.

"Yeah."

You tilted the glass back, swallowed down the dregs of your cocktail in one smooth motion, and slid the glass back over the bar. You turned back to Jaeger, who held a hand out to you, face still settled in that easy smile, slid his tongue over his teeth.

"Come and meet my friends." He offered, fingers outstretched toward you in a beckoning motion.

Your eyes caught on the glitzy gold chain hanging from his wrist, metal wrapped loose around the ink of some tattoo you couldn't identify, and you slid your hand into his, felt thick gold rings press cool against your fingers.

Twenty minutes later, you found yourself nestled in the heart of the crowd, as close to the DJ as you think you'd ever been, flanked by a gaggle of Jaeger's apparent friends as they congregated, yelling at each other and laughing over the music, passing round after round of drinks through the crowd. All equally as intimidating and sharply dressed as your new friend. 

So there you were, fingers grasped around yet another drink - a whiskey and coke, you thought - so kindly provided to you by an oddly sweet looking blonde boy, who - by the way he was grasping Jaeger's shoulder, laughing and calling to him over the thump of music - had to be pretty close to him.

Hands tossed into the air, pressed between sweat strewn, heated bodies - Jaeger to your front, and a tall strawberry blond who's name you hadn't quite caught behind you - dizzy with the ply of alcohol and the heady mix of cologne and smoke, you honestly couldn't tell when one song ended and the next began, heart seeming to pound in time with the endless track.

Giggling, you gazed up at Jaeger, pressed to your chest, his nimble hands trailed dangerously low along your skin in response, dipping beneath the slope of your backless dress. You bit your lip, slid a hand around his neck as you rocked to the steady flow of music. 

You were so lost in the thrum of the music, the alcohol swimming through your veins and the intoxicating sheen of sweat over your skin as you ground up against your new companions, that you barely noticed a tall, solid looking man breach the crowd and slip in to a newly formed rift behind Jaeger. He began speaking hushed and hurried into his ear.

You slipped your hands from Jaeger and stepped back on an unsteady foot. You smiled up at him, sweet and sultry, your arms raised, fingers threaded through your hair as you continued swaying your hips to the unwavering beat, eyes locked on Jaeger's face as he listened to the man speak. 

His green eyes roamed shamelessly, hungry over you, down your curling curves as the stranger spoke into his ear. They were low lidded and hazy, even more so than before, his lips stretched into a lazy grin, revealing pearly canines as he watched your body sway. 

You watched that dazzling smile slowly slip away as the newcomer kept speaking, Jaeger's lips tugged further down with each word until his mouth was settled into a hard, flat line. You watched his expression sharpen when the man lifted his arm and pointed a thumb back toward the private booths, and he slapped a thick hand over Jaeger's shoulder in an oddly comforting display.

Then, Jaeger was fixing you with a detached, almost disappointed look. His thick brows furrowed, jaw set in place. You slowed the roll of your hips, hands lowering to your sides.

"What is it?" You called over the music, but Jaeger simply shook his head at you, expression pinched with mild annoyance, simmering disappointment. 

The man who'd been speaking with him suddenly filled your vision, stepping in front of Jaeger, blocking him entirely from view. The man raised a hand, curved it over the outside of your arm, fingers hovering just above your heated, sweat strewn skin, mindful not to make contact as he began to ease you out from the dance floor.

"This way please, Miss." Came his voice, deep and confident over the thrum of music.

"What are you doing?" You questioned, tongue feeling thick and heavy in your mouth, the sudden interruption sobering as you gazed up at the man in mild confusion.

"Your presence has been requested in one of the private booths, Miss."

Your mouth opened and closed a few times, unable to conjure a response, or identify how you felt about the frankly bizarre turn of events.

A private booth?

"Please come this way."

"O-okay..."

Time seemed to slow a little as you made your way through the crowd, the sea of people seeming to part effortlessly to make room for the broad man before you, like an immovable stone interrupting the flow of a river. You watched the expanse of his back as you trailed behind, black suit catching the flickering laser light.

You blinked, drunk eyes a little hazy as you gazed out at the club floor, finally given an opportunity to assess your fellow visitors. You frowned, brows knitted together as you came to an unsettling realization.

For every ten "regular" patrons, there was at least one outlier, someone who didn't quite fit. And you realized that there were a plethora of sharp dressed, hawk eyed men and women secretly nestled throughout the space. Leaning against a wall, sipping a drink that never seemed to empty, so very close to blending in, but something was just... off. You could tell by the way they stood, even when relaxed there was a rigidity to them, like a coiled spring ready to snap into action.

Your heart was positively racing when you reached the string of booths in eye line of the dance floor, so nervous in fact that you nearly tripped up the small lip of stairs, feeling entirely sobered when you were led to the largest of the reserves, the curtains of which were parted slightly.

Two men, as tall as they were broad, stood on either side of the heavy curtains, the fabric thick and glossy, shining a deep blood red. It seemed telling, like a poisonous frog flashes colors at approaching threats. Like a blaring red stop sign. 

The man who led you came to a sudden halt, and you nearly stumbled into the back of him. In a blur, you watched him murmur something to the man on the right, who fixed you with a lightly judgmental look down the bridge of his nose before he shrugged and stepped to the side, thick hand looped over the roll of curtain to allow you entry.

You took a deep breath in, craned your head to slip through the crack in the heavy fabric, the guard followed behind.

The smell of burning tobacco hit you first, thick and woody.

You blinked at the sudden warmth of light, electric lanterns hooked to opposing walls dimmed down low, simmering orange in the surprisingly spacious room. 

Peering through the haze of smoke, the first thing you caught was the glint of pristine polished leather shoes, tailored slacks. You swallowed hard, eyes traveling up a suited body until you were met with the glint of familiar silver through a haze of smoke. You felt your heart begin to race, pounding near deafening in your chest.

The man before you was leaned back, one lithe leg crossed over the other, arms outstretched leisurely across the back of the plush red velvet lounge, hand tracing the intricate stitching of the fabric, painted the same deep blood red as the thick curtains. The other nimble hand, coated in a thin Italian leather glove, grasped a glittering crystal glass filled with amber liquid, finger looped over a cigar, thin plumes of smoke rolling from it. He fixed you with a familiar, steady gaze through the whipping tendrils.

If you'd thought he looked good in that janitor uniform, this was a whole different ball park. You felt your knees wobble a little beneath you as you took in the unimaginable sight.

"Levi." You gawked, breathless.

Silver eyes flicked up to meet your wide eyed gaze, and he tilted his head in mild interest. You watched strands of ink black hair slip forward, watched his sharp jaw click into place.

"Professor." Came his slow, pointed response. 

You're not sure if it was the alcohol, or the dizzying atmosphere of the club, but hearing his smooth voice again, directed at you no less, had the beginnings of blind desire trailing its teasing fingers up your spine already, and after only a single word from his lips.

Gazing past you, Levi nodded at the man who had led you inside, still lingering behind you. The man dipped his head and exited without further comment, tugging the curtains closed behind him. The heavy fabric may as well have been concrete doors, muffling the hollering of club patrons and the deafening pounding of the bass. The only sound breaching the cocoon you found yourself nestled in was through the tiny sliver where the two curtains met, through which you could distantly see the writhe of bodies out on the dance floor.

When you turned your head back around, Levi was watching you, cigar abandoned to a heavy looking crystal ashtray in the center of the low table. His lips now curled around the thin rim of a glass, silver eyes cool, heavy as a splash of cold water over your skin as they raked down your body, assessing you in that clinical way of his, that made you feel like you were a frog splayed on a dissection tray, exposed.

Levi's eyes trailed from your hair, turned a little wild and unruly from wandering hands, to the tight wrap of your dress, down to the hem, where it cut short over your thighs. He said nothing, took another slow sip of his drink, settled back into the plush, blood red lounge. 

You swallowed. So this was the real him then.

Gone entirely was the shell of the quiet, attentive janitor who had repaired your AC, lugged a shiny new desk into your lecture hall. You couldn't picture this man sweeping a floor, or changing a light bulb in a classroom at the request of a sweet little professor. No, the man before you now, perched lazily on the blood red lounge like a loaded gun, he didn't take requests. Didn't do anyone's bidding without a hefty price tag attached.

He looked dangerous like this. Powerful. You thought, suddenly a little dizzy. 

"Seems you were having fun out there." He finally drawled, snapping you from your thoughts, and swallowed a mouthful of swirling amber liquid.

You opened your mouth to speak, suddenly finding yourself a little desperate to give him a proper explanation. But he interrupted your babbling, rendered you silent with a simple lift of his hand.

"Have a seat."

You paused for a moment, weighing your options, before you took a few slow steps toward the lounge. His eyes tracked you all the way, cool and steady on you as you sunk into the empty space next to him. The cushion was velvet soft beneath your bare thighs, and you tugged your dress down a little, squirming in place.

"What are you doing here?" You squeaked out, finally gathered the confidence to break the heavy blanket of silence.

You could tell he was unimpressed by your surface level line of questioning, but to your relief he humored you with a simple reply anyway.

Levi nodded his head toward the heavy rolls of curtain, gesturing silently through the slip of empty space, out to the sea of curling bodies, where the bass was still pounding.

"They're celebrating."

"They?"

He fixed you with a flat look, and it dawned on you suddenly, the final piece of your earlier puzzle slotting into place. All those sharply dressed men and women, the oddly intimidating people you had been dancing with, even Jaeger. They were his.

You rolled your tongue over your teeth.

"Oh." You murmured, brows knitted together as you considered his explanation. "Celebrating what?"

Levi lifted a hand, gestured to himself.

You frowned. A little vague, but from his suddenly icy gaze you knew better than to pry any further.

You cleared your throat.

Desperate for a brief reprieve from his smothering intensity, you peered around the room you found yourself in. It was a pleasantly spacious room, anything you had found elegant in the club outside was tenfold in this private arena - smooth polished concrete underfoot, glitzy gold lamps bolted to the walls, filling the space with a subtle warmth.

A deep polished wooden coffee table sat in the center, and you found yourself studying its contents. A thick crystal ashtray held Levi's abandoned cigar, still trailing thick plumes of smoke from its burning tip. Levi's own glass, and a matching crystal decanter, glittering in the low light.

Your eyes continued their silent roam. A pack of cards was tucked neatly to the side, alongside an abandoned crystal glass, a slip of dark amber liquid still sitting within.

Your brows furrowed a little. Someone else had been here, sharing a drink with Levi. You tried to picture the type of person who would be sat alongside him on this lounge, playing a lazy game of cards, sharing a few fingers of expensive whiskey.

Who would it be? What would they be speaking about? Had it been a friendly personal conversation, or strictly business? Was it a colleague, a competitor?

Was it a woman?

You found yourself scowling a little at the thought.

"What's with the face?" Levi's voice suddenly interrupted your thoughts.

You flushed, embarrassed at being caught snooping.

“There's no..." You cleared your throat. "Uh... girls in here." You managed to choke out.

He arched a thin, angled brow at you.

“Is that surprising to you?”

You scoffed.

“I would have thought that was criteria for a mafia-”

You were suddenly cut off, quick and sharp as a whip his hand shot up to your face, and you winced as he captured you in his grasp, fingers squeezed tight and biting into the flesh of your cheeks. The look he was fixing you with was dark, eyes burning hot as coals, but the sensation of his gloved fingers digging into your skin was positively electric. 

You couldn't help the small, pathetic noise that wormed its way from your throat as he gazed at you, a little pitying.

“That mouth's going to get you in trouble one day, Professor.”

In the next breath he had released you from his grasp, and you leaned back against the low spine of the lounge, rubbing your face tenderly with your fingers, cheeks burning hot. He took another sip from his emptying glass.

“You watch too many movies.” He mused, voice a little lighter than before. You found that it eased the tension a little.

You released a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding, it came out slow and shaky. There was a sudden, undeniable burst of desire, of white hot lust bubbling in your stomach at his sudden touch, his disregard for your comfort, his rough handling of you.

That signature dangerous cocktail of his was as intoxicating as ever, that push and pull of softness and discipline. You were grappling with the dizzying realization that you'd missed it.

“They don’t interest me.”

You blinked, head still fuzzy, clouded. "What?"

Levi fixed you with a dry look, obviously displeased at having to repeat himself.

"Those kinds of women." He continued, words slow and deliberate. "They don't interest me."

The way he was looking at you, you thought if it weren't for your earlier liquid courage, and the fact that you were sitting down, your knees might have actually given out. You squeezed your legs together tight.

You watched his eyes, dark and glinting in the dim light of the private booth, dip down, roaming freely over the bare skin of your thighs as they clenched together.

“No tights tonight.” He noted dryly.

You swallowed, suddenly a little self conscious about your frankly unprofessional attire. You realized that he'd never seen you outside of your perfectly curated image. Well, aside from that one stormy night, when he had admittedly seen you in much less.

"Not tonight." You replied quickly, tried to keep your voice smooth.

"That's a shame." He sighed, lifted a slim wrist to take a long, slow sip of whiskey.

You eyed the shining watch slipped around his wrist, saw it catch the light as he slid the glass onto the table, crystalline watch face glinting out at you like the flash of a concealed blade. You swallowed, if that was the model you thought - subtle and understated as it was - it cost more than your entire years salary.

"A shame?" You questioned, voice tinged with worry.

Did he not like it? Had you ruined this little game of cat and mouse between you? Now nothing more to him than a cheap lay?

"Yeah." He replied. "I had such a nice time tearing them off of you last time."

With such a simple utterance, the air of the room was suddenly thick. The tension that had been slowly simmering in the space between you, of words left unspoken, was suddenly dialed up to eleven - hot, boiling.

Levi uncrossed his leg, and the fabric of his slacks nudged a loose cigar from its place on the table as he did so. You both watched in silence as it rolled freely across the polished concrete.

You tore you eyes from the cigar and looked back at him, surprised to find that he was watching you with a quiet intensity. He nodded his head toward the stray cigar.

"Be a doll and pick it up for me, hm?" 

There was an undeniable edge to the simple sentence, a dark underlying current. It wasn't a request, it was a command. A test.

You froze for a moment.

Were you really going to do this?

Before you could think any better of it, you found yourself rising from the lounge, standing on wobbly, uncertain legs. You took a breath to find your footing before you began slow, obedient steps toward the rogue cigar.

The thin heels of your boots clicked dully on the polished floor, and you heard him hum behind you, eyes obviously tracking your movement as you paused just above the cigar, back turned to him, and tilted your head back to meet his gaze.

Fuck it. What did you have to lose.

Keeping your legs straight, suddenly emboldened, you bent at the waist, tilted at a ninety degree angle and slowly edged your way down. Eyes still locked on his, your polished fingers teased along the smooth concrete, inching toward the cigar. 

You could feel his gaze, heavy and heated roaming over the curve of your spine, over your ass, down to where you knew your dress was sliding up over your thighs, concealing next to nothing in your current position, bent over before him. 

You found yourself smiling a little. You're sure you were giving him quite the show.

You heard him tut behind you, and you felt your pulse quicken at the sharp sound. It was low, almost unheard under the muffled bass.

"Hm, no panties either." Came his sly comment. "What a dirty little girl you've become Professor."

The knowing tone of his voice made you sure that he had already figured as much, had only made you fulfill this silly little task out of curiosity. Just to see if you would do it. To see if you would willingly debase yourself for him. The thought made you press your legs a little tighter together where you stood.

"Bring it to me." He ordered.

You began to straighten your spine, prepared to tug your dress down, turn around to walk back towards the plush lounge.

Levi shook his head.

"No. Not like that."

You fixed him with a lightly confused look from over the curve of your shoulder, watched his eyes flicker down toward the ground.

You swallowed, and with a shaky breath you lowered yourself down to the floor, shivered a little at the sensation of the cool polished concrete beneath your bare knees. You slipped the cigar between your teeth, both palms pressed flat over the remarkably clean ground.

As you crawled over the floor, feeling every bit like a dog as you're sure he was intending, you watched him lean back in his chair to observe you, expression one of mild satisfaction, clearly pleased with your display, with your performance in his little exam.

Your knees were burning by the time you reached him, bare skin chaffed from catching on the polished floor.

You lifted your head up, jaw resting beside his bent knee. From this distance you could smell his cologne, a rich, clean, unequivocally masculine scent. Remnants of those familiar tea leaves swirled somewhere below. You pressed your thighs together.

He puffed a breath through his nose and leaned forward, took the cigar from between your teeth, eyes low, watching the little thread of spit connecting your parted lips and the rolled tobacco snap.

"Full marks. You’re so eager to please tonight, Professor." He mused, voice a low rumble, smooth as the finest aged whiskey. "And in such a short dress too."

"I might almost think that you were here looking for something."

Levi gazed down at you, lifted a hand to thread a loose strand of hair behind your ear in a deceptively soft, claiming motion. You shivered at the contact, skin tingling where his fingers ghosted over. He tilted his head, eyes raking over you where you were kneeling below him, considering.

"Is that why you were grinding on my gunmen like some cheap whore, hm?" He murmured, sharp words a staggering contrast to the sweet delicate curl of his fingers on the hinge of your jaw as he pet at your stray hairs, tucking them neatly back into place, eyes roaming over your face, watching your expression contort.

That bitter, vulgar insult slipped off his tongue so easily, but it felt like sweet syrup whispered in your ear like that, like candied liquor - nauseatingly sweet with just a little bite of alcohol stinging you, the contrast of pleasure and pain was intoxicating, you wanted to be drunk on it. 

"I'm sorry." You murmured, eyes averted, unable to hold his heated gaze.

He sighed, and then the slow, methodical slide of his hand was gone, and you had to stop yourself from craning your head to chase it. 

"That's real sweet Professor, but pretty words aren't exactly what I'm looking for."

You blinked, eyes moon wide as you watched him lean back, part his legs a little and run a toned hand slow and teasing down his chest. You bit your lip not to whine when he rolled long slender fingers down between his legs momentarily, over the slight bulge forming in his dark slacks.

He raised a brow at you through his parted knees, tutted lightly.

"Uh-uh, patience."

You watched Levi's fingers trail back up, and begin to tug at his slate grey vest. You felt your heart drop, breath caught in your throat when he lifted the slip of fabric, and your eyes came to rest on the cool, glittering silver handle of a polished pistol, nestled below his waist band, pressed against the curve of abs on his lower stomach.

When your eyes flitted up to his, you found that you were frozen, caught in the intensity of the look he was fixing you with, heady, intense as he looped slender fingers over the handle of the firearm, and slipped it from his waistband.

The metal glinted in the low light as he slid it free, muzzle brushing over the angled lines of his hip bones, the stretch of skin carved into a V, trailing down past his slacks.

You flinched when he swung the weapon around, and it came to point at you momentarily. He watched you flinch, lips twitching almost imperceptibly, and pressed the mouth of the pistol to your cheek, pushing the soft flesh there.

He cocked the barrel up, and you winced, lashes fluttering.

"Kiss it." Came his command, voice a little rougher than earlier.

The tension was simmering, so thick it was near palpable.

Slowly, you turned your head, eyes never leaving his, and pressed your pursed lips to the curve of the pistol in a slow, sultry kiss. You could feel your slick lip gloss smear sticky over the cool metal. His breath hitched.

You blinked up at him slowly, eyes low lidded, flicking between his eyes. A dizzying cocktail of fear and danger, adrenaline and an undeniable, thick lust curled in your belly, tendrils coiling down between your parted thighs.

You watched his throat bob, and you batted your eyelashes as you parted your lips, felt your warm breath ghost against the icy metal, before you slipped your tongue out between pink gloss, and licked up the smooth expanse of metal caught between your plump lips. Shuddered out a breath when your hot tongue met the cool muzzle, bitter and sharp against your taste buds.

Levi watched you quiver below him for a moment, then pushed forward, slipping the hard, unforgiving metal past the confines of your lips, nestled the muzzle between your parted teeth, metal clinking against ivory. Fresh tears began to gather on your lashes.

You heard a mechanical click, and you shivered, squeezed you eyes closed briefly, frozen with the heart stopping realization that he had just flicked the safety off.

“You talk big Professor, play the part of the prim and proper lady, but I know what you really want. What you need."

He began to thrust the pistol ever so slightly, back and forth past your lips, and your eyes fluttered, jaw gone slack, drool beginning to pool at the corners of your lips, whining ever so slightly as you let him fuck your mouth with the firearm.

His eyes were black, pupils blown and stormy grey swallowed entirely when he peered down at you. His hand came up to curl around your jaw, hold you still so he could get a better angle. You swallowed, nearly gagged as he pushed in further, muzzle clacking against your molars.

“Can see it on your face now. Could see it back in that classroom, when you looked at me with those big, teary eyes, batted your pretty lashes at me just the same.”

Through your muddled vision you caught the movement of his finger as it curled over the trigger. A stray tear slipped from your lashes, curved down your hollowed, spit strewn cheek.

His voice was low, gritty and raw when he continued, fingers gripped tight over your chin, where you were sure your drool was smearing over his slick leather gloves.

“You can feign disgust, fear. But I know the danger, the thrill of it, knowing I could put my hands around your throat and just keep squeezing. You love it, don’t you?”

You whined, squirming beneath him, fingertips splayed over the polished concrete below.

“Know how I know?” He whispered, voice so deceptively sticky sweet that you felt your mind begin to empty.

“Because even now, with my pistol between your lips, with my finger on the trigger..."

He toed his shoe between your spread legs, nudged them apart until you could feel the smooth curve of dark polished leather nudge up against your bare pussy.

You moaned when you felt the smooth stretch of leather press against your throbbing clit. The sound that left you was high pitched and needy, muffled around the muzzle of his pistol slotted between your teeth.

"You’re dripping wet. Aren’t you?”

You nodded spinelessly, unable to ignore the blazing ache between your legs, you found your hips were already rolling, rocking in a steady back and forth motion over his shoe.

"Say it." 

You swallowed as best you could, let out a wanton moan as you rutted down onto his shoe, felt something on the smooth leather catch.

When had you become this person? The type of girl who crawled along the floor like a good dog, stuck her tongue out and let a dangerous man shove a pistol down her throat? Got wet from the whole ordeal?

Had he made you this way? Or had these desires always been there, writhing somewhere deep and dark within you?  

Did it matter?

"Mm-dlippng wet..." The words came out slurred and wrong, tongue arced around the shape of the pistol still slotted tight in your mouth.

Pleased, he slipped the gun from your lips with a surprisingly degree of care, and once released, you slumped backwards onto your palms, back arched, still grinding pitifully slow and rough over his shoe, lips parted in a low, breathy moan.

He watched you for a few moments, eyes not leaving your form, even when he leaned forward to capture a crisp white cloth from the table, rubbing the spit coated pistol until he deemed it sufficiently cleaned, at least for now. He flicked the safety back on, and arched forward to dispense it on the table, collecting his abandoned whiskey glass and cigar in one deft hand.

You distantly registered the sound of the pistol, clattering over the table. Then, his face was filling your vision again.

"Don't worry, I'll give you exactly what you need Professor." He mused, curled a gloved finger at you. "Come here.'

A little desperate, you crawled up from the polished floor, and his steady hands found your waist, tugging you onto his lap. Your legs parted, knees cushioned on either side of his thighs, pressing into the plush sofa, and you immediately resumed the steady rock of your hips, grinding shamelessly against his pristine slacks.

You bit your lip gazing down at him, hands gripping his broad shoulders tight, feeling the muscles tense there beneath his crisp button up.

He had one arm leaned back over the chair, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, bent at the elbow to swirl the glass perched between his fingers. The other was pinching at the curve of your hip, watching you roll over his lap through dark eyes as he sipped the amber liquid, crystal clinking under the pounding of the bass.

“Oh, gonna be a big girl are we?”

Your limbs were tingling, numb with the mix of adrenaline, alcohol and unfiltered lust coursing through your veins, each frantic pulse swirling it deeper through your veins. You nodded your head, pressed yourself down onto his lap, lip caught between your teeth.

“Go on then." He drawled, sucked in a lungful of cigar smoke from the stick, curled over his glass, holding it for a moment while he looked you over. "Take what you want.”

Cigar smoke hung heavy in the air, released in a thick plume from his sinful lips, intoxicating, making your head spin in tandem with the sensation of his toned thighs beneath you.

When your hands left his shoulders you found that they were shaking, fingers sizzling electric as a live wire as you pulled his pristine leather belt open, popped the clasp of his slacks and tugged the waistband down. 

You almost called him a hypocrite when you found that he wasn't wearing anything beneath the smooth slacks, but the words died on your tongue when his cock sprung out between your hands, just as thick as you remembered, and you were distantly proud to find he was already hard, veins twitching, blushed red and glossy between your fingers.

Hand curled around him, you straightened your spine, and lifted yourself up, knees digging into the cushion below to hover over him.

You looked up briefly, and the sight that met you sent a sharp, dizzying spark of desire straight through you. He was watching you in return, leaned back on the sofa, thumb rolling over your waist, cigar perched leisurely between his fingers as he took another hit, toned thighs parted, hips bucked up slightly to give you a better angle. 

You couldn't help but let out a small, desperate noise when you began lowering yourself, felt his cockhead press at your soaking entrance. Another twitch of your hips and he breached your walls, slipped inside. You eased down until you felt his thighs tense beneath you, gasping, and then you were full. 

"Oh god..." You took a moment, eyes fluttered closed, you let out a shaky breath as you settled down into his lap, felt yourself twitching around him, felt him stuffed deep inside. 

You heard him suck in a slow breath, and he slid a hand slow and soothing over your bare thigh. When you opened your eyes, he raised an angled brow at you, and nodded his head. 

You began a steady roll of your hips, jaw immediately dropped slack, letting out betraying little 'ah' sounds as you grinded over him, felt that sweet heat bubbling deep in your core.

Your brows furrowed, suddenly determined to prove yourself to him. What was it that you were trying to prove? You weren't so sure. If nothing else, prove you could at least ride the smug bastard into the fucking sunset.

Sufficiently acclimatized, you opened your eyes, heated gaze locked on him, and began to bounce, working yourself up and down on his cock nice and slow, thighs and abdomen pulled taut, hands gripping his shoulders tight.

That got a reaction.

Eyes low and dangerous, Levi lifted a slender hand, fingers teasing over the low cut neckline of your dress, before he hooked two fingers over the elastic and tugged it down, exposing your bare breasts to him.

You heard him make a satisfied sound, eyes raking slow and lazy over the newly exposed skin, watching your tits bounce in rhythm with the movement of your hips, greedily soaking in the sight of you.

His wandering fingers teased along the hem of your dress, where it was slipping up over your thighs. He tugged the fabric up roughly, earning a sharp gasp from you, palms gripped onto the now bare skin of your ass, rolling you tight and hot along the tops of his thighs, guiding your hips as your bounced.

You groaned, hips stuttering as you felt his gloved fingers begin to knead the meat of your ass, and you shrieked when he pulled one hand back to slap the bare skin hard.

You were dizzy, each bounce turning your mind to mush. When he pressed his lips to yours, nipped his teeth against your skin to prop your mouth open and slide his tongue inside, the taste of whiskey and sin was hot and heavy on his tongue.

“Gonna get off like this, hm? Just using my cock?” He breathed, breaking the obscene kiss.

And you really think you could have, if it weren't for the sweat turning your skin slippery, the muscles in your thighs twitching spasms of sharp pain down your legs with each buck of your hips.

Your rhythm was undoubtedly slowing, worn down and broken as you struggled to fight the overwhelming cramps shaking your thighs.

“I can’t...” You whined, halting your bounce to instead roll your hips over him, grinding against his clothed lap, slow and haphazard, chasing the climbing pleasure.

Levi tutted, slipped his hand up to your flushed face, thumb gliding over your lower lip, plump and pouted and slick with drool.

“That all you got baby? You all done?" He questioned, voice thick and honeyed with a sympathy you knew he didn't feel.

You shook your head, still chasing that high, that distant pleasure straying further and further away with each unsteady, slowed roll of your hips, dulled by the ache of cramps sparking up your thighs.

"A bit pathetic Professor." He cooed, tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Need me to do it for you?” 

You whined, nodded you head in defeat, hips slowed to a rolling stop.

In the next blink, Levi had nudged his glass and cigar onto the edge of the table, hands sliding easily under your hips to slide out of you and prop you up, holding you in place, hovering above him as if you weighed nothing.

You clung to his neck as he stood, and turned you both around, eased you down into his place on the sofa. The cushioned lounge was plush beneath you, soft red velvet sliding across your bare shoulder blades, and you peered up at him, blinking moon wide eyes.

He raised a gloved hand to his mouth, parted his lips to bite the thin leather, tug it off in one smooth motion.

Dazed, you watched the shiny black contrast against the white of his canines as he tugged the second glove off, and then his bare palm came down to finally slide over your bare skin. The resulting sensation of finally being skin to skin with him sent a flurry goosebumps prickling wildly up your flesh.

Levi stepped forward to spot between your limp, parted knees, bare hand dropped down, thumb outstretched to guide his slick cock in a slow teasing trail up through your sopping folds.

Your eyes rolled back into your skull when he finally slipped back inside, pushed in to the hilt, base brushing rough against you. His lips parted, eyes drooped to watch your needy pussy suck him in. You shook your head in disbelief, mind buzzing nothing but static, empty aside from the sensation of being utterly and completely full.

"Is this what you wanted, hm?" He questioned, voice softened, trailing light fingers down the outer skin of your thighs.

You couldn't speak, rendered completely silent aside from a flurry of choked, pitiful moans when he began to roll his hips, setting a steady, unforgiving pace.

If you'd had the strength, any spine left in you, you would have peered behind him through the crack in the curtains, sure that at least the guards keeping watch could hear you mewling and whining, could probably hear the sopping, vulgar slap of his cock inside you too. You wondered if they’d risk sneaking a peak, parting the curtains to catch a glimpse of their boss fucking some little professor stupid into the blood red lounge.

Your skin was searing hot, set alight and burning as his hands slid beneath your bare thighs, hooking under your knees to bend you in half beneath him, push your legs back until your leather clad ankles were wrapped around his ears.

Suddenly you couldn't breath, body split apart on his cock as he pounded down into you, each thrust at this new angle hitting so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach. Each breath knocked from your lungs. A curling, writhing ache deep in your gut as his cock kissed your cervix.

“You were gonna let Jaeger fuck you like this?” Levi's voice cut through the haze, a silver bullet penetrating the cloud of blind desire surrounding you.

You shook your head mindlessly, babbling out an incoherent string of words. 

“No?” He echoed. “Weren’t going to take him to the bathroom stall and let him use that pretty little mouth?”

“Nuh-uh.” You managed between huffed moans, and you shook your head again, the motion furious now.

“Whys that?” He queried, thrusts becoming hard, mean, each pump a vulgar slap as his hips met the backs of your bent thighs.

“-s yours.” You gasped, fingers gripping the plush fabric below you so tight your sure your knuckles were turning white.

“Thaaat’s right.” He hummed, pleased.

Levi released one of your legs to swipe a bare thumb over your parted lips, breaching inside to slide the pad of his finger over the valley of your hot tongue, feel the spit pooling there.

“This mouth.."

You blinked dumbly up at him through glassy eyes, wincing as he pushed further inside, thumb curling deeper until he heard you gag, and tears began welling up at the corners of your eyes. 

His other hand deserted your thigh, raised to pinch at your breasts, pushed together between your parted legs. He caught a pebbled nipple, rolled it between his fingers.

"These tits..." 

His thumb slipped from your parted lips, and you moaned thoughtlessly when his free palm raised to slap your bare chest, once, twice. Dewy skin already reddening, hot and searing from the impact.

He released your nipple, trailed teasing fingers down your rib cage over your curved stomach until he reached your parted legs, where your thighs were turning slippery with a mix of sweat and arousal.

You jolted forward when you felt his thumb press above where he was still pounding down into you, felt the calloused pad slide flat over your clit and start rubbing in tight, practiced circles, still wet with your own spit. 

"This cunt..." 

Levi's eyes were burning a hole into whatever was left of you, he was panting a little now alongside you, thrusts turned furious, deep and claiming, jostling you with each haphazard roll of his hips.

"They’re mine.”

You whined, nodded your head wildly, legs shaking pinned beneath him, feet arching and writhing where they were hooked over his shoulders, encased in thick leather.

“Yesyesyes yours, sir!” You cried, voice hoarse and wrecked where you had sobbed it away.

You felt tears slip out between soaked lashes, begin to drip down your heated cheeks as you writhed, pleaded with him.

"Mmmsoclose, can I cum sir, please can I cum?"

He slapped your cheek lightly, fingers still wet with your drool when they made contact with your tear dappled face.

"Open."

Mind buzzing static, your mouth dropped open before you could conjure up a single coherent thought, a single reason not to obey, jaw slack as you peered up at him through syrupy eyes.

You blinked slow, watched him lean forward, lips parted so he could spit a line of drool straight down into your waiting mouth.

He peered down at you expectantly as you curled your tongue and swallowed, steely grey turned soft and malleable, letting out little huffs of breath, near growls deep and low in his throat with each rough pump, each slap of his balls against your messy cunt.

“Good girl." He groaned, thrusts turned wide and sloppy, evidently just as far gone as you were.

His hand looped down between your parted legs, settled rough and claiming over your flushed throat.

"Now fucking cum for me."

At his command, in the blink of an eye you were coming undone. Your vision turned a milky white, that deep, coiling ache worked deep inside finally snapped, and you choked out a spineless moan, eyes rolled back into your skull, back arched and writhing as best as you could while still being pounded stupid into the plush lounge. 

Winking an eye open, you caught sight of Levi, curled over, dark hair strewn over his forehead as he rocked his hips up into you, and when he finally buried himself inside, pushing deep as he could manage, you felt him begin to pulse.

He breathed out a low, deep noise through his nose, hands locked in an iron grip either of your thighs, thumbs pulling back, spreading you open to watch your residual throbs of pleasure milk him dry.

When you came back down, you felt separate from your body - high, floating, buzzing. The only thing tethering you to reality was the roll of his thumb over the sensitive skin of your bruised thighs, and the dizzying sensation of him filling you up.

Recovering from his daze, he slipped out, took a slow step backward. You hummed, body still simmering pleasantly, dropped your feet to rest on the couch beneath you, slipped down until the toes of your leather boots curled over the edge.

Levi watched you from the table, finger arched over his retrieved cigar, and you distantly caught his eyes sharpen under the click of the lighter, orange glow turning his features regal and striking in the dim light.

He tilted his head back, puffed a slow plume of smoke from his nose, eyes locked on where your limp legs were parted, watching remnants of his cum dribble out of you, drip down onto the plush red lounge beneath. His brow twitched.

"I hear you need a good word with the Head of Department, Professor."