Leon let out a low groan as he threw himself onto the bed the moment his apartment door slid shut behind him. The motorcycle keys he had been holding flew from his fingers and landed somewhere on the table near the bed without grace or ceremony.

His whole body ached as if he had wrestled with the day rather than merely endured it. There was no particular reason for such weariness except perhaps the foolish habit of falling out of bed in his sleep and waking up on the floor like a defeated soldier. No wonder every muscle protested now.

“Ugh…” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. Thirst lingered stubbornly at the edges of his senses. Sleep could wait a moment longer.

He rose and padded toward the kitchen. Glass, water, and then a single swallow that was too eager, letting droplets trail from his chin down to his shirt. With a quiet breath he stripped the shirt away, letting it drop to the floor where it joined the mess of the day. Bare-chested, he set the glass down and wandered back to the bed.

The dim light revealed a body forged by years of discipline, hard to the eye yet pleasingly soft beneath curious hands according to the whispers of those who had shared his sheets. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Four hours before he was due to meet the boys at the bar. Time stretched long and dull in front of him.

Leon lay down again, head against the wall, eyelids sliding shut. His hand slipped beneath the fabric of his trousers, the lazy gesture of a man attempting to stave off boredom with temptation. His mind tried to summon the proper muse.

Kelly came first. Efficient Kelly, immaculate Kelly, the administrative darling of the university. She was single, lovely, and far more daring than her composed exterior suggested. Their strange bond had waltzed at the border of propriety for months. She turned down dates for the sake of professionalism, yet somehow never refused his apartment, or the warmth of his bed, or the tangled limbs and whispered sighs that followed.

He remembered the last time. Kelly kneeling on the bedroom floor, or when they making love. The memory of her flushed face and roguish gaze was almost too vivid. It made his breath shudder as he reached into the bedside drawer for a bit of lotion, using it to smooth his shameful indulgence. He let the imagined heat of that moment guide him deeper. Soon he was lost in it, until a soft laugh echoed somewhere in the back of his skull.

Leon knew that voice. It was Silvana.

"Fuck," he hissed as Kelly dissolved, replaced by a different image entirely.

Silvana crouched before him in that dangerous corner of his imagination, eyes wide and innocent, yet burning with a hunger she did not even know how to hide. His hand tightened instinctively around himself, moving faster before pausing as if to protest the madness of it.

He had intended to stop. He really had. Yet fantasy never bowed to reason. In his mind Silvana leaned in, attempting to please him with bold devotion, her voice stumbling over his name as though even saying it could send tremors through her. Her gaze fogged with desire, cheeks flushed with reckless heat.

Leon could not withstand it. Pleasure spiraled through him like wildfire, and his own rhythm grew frantic beneath the weight of that imagined intimacy.

"Oh... fuck," he breathed, as the picture of his beautiful student tried desperately to take him fully, struggling in a way that was at once charming and wickedly arousing. It was too sweet a torment to resist. Sensation flooded him, spreading with ease and without mercy.

A rough sound tore from his throat as release hit him, warm across his abdomen. His hand fell away, leaving him collapsed and panting. Sweat clung to him, his heartbeat unruly, his vision dazed.

What on earth had he just done? He had let his mind wander into a place no professor should ever tread.

He admitted it silently. Jarvis’s recent teasing did not help, for it had planted a tiny, treacherous seed. Curiosity perhaps, laced with forbidden fascination.

And truly, who would not be drawn to her? Silvana possessed a charm that was nearly impossible to ignore. Her presence turned heads. Men agreed upon one thing. She was exceptional. Leon felt it too, though he knew he should never let it cross the lines demanded of him.

The ghost of the fantasy lingered despite his efforts to banish it. He had not expected his own hormones to betray him in such a humiliating fashion.

He shut his eyes and focused on breathing, desperate to chase away the sinful visions. A teacher must not think of his student like that. He must uphold the boundaries that kept the world sane.

"Oh my God," he muttered, staring at the bed now stained by his own doing. Cleaning it would take time and effort. Perhaps more than he had patience for.

"Leon, you absolute idiot," he grumbled as he stripped the sheets away and carried them toward the bathroom, along with his overheated body and whatever scraps of dignity he had left.

***

Silvana let out a soft giggle as she nudged her chosen prey through the doorway of his private apartment. She vaguely remembered him as one of the engineering students. His name had already slipped from her memory. There was something in his demeanor that faintly resembled Sir Leon, though this one was younger and somewhat rigid. Even so, he still fell neatly into the category of a handsome man.

Truthfully, the only reason this was happening at all was because her body’s hunger had become impossible to ignore. Had she not stumbled upon him, Silvana would have found another stranger to sate her craving. For her it was simplicity. For him it felt like the universe had granted a wish he did not dare speak aloud.

To discover that Silvana was willingly entering his apartment with the sole intention of fulfilling desire was enough to send his mind spiraling. His disbelief only deepened when she teased him from across the room with a provocative pose.

"Oh fuck," he blurted out. He was not the type to say his thoughts out loud, yet tonight seemed destined to push him out of character.

Silvana merely smiled. In truth, his reaction grated on her nerves a little. She had only leaned back against the sofa, supporting herself on one elbow, nothing more than a languid greeting.

"Come on. Get to work," Silvana said, wiggling her fingers toward a point no man could possibly refuse.

The young man practically jolted at how brazenly Silvana treated him. He had heard whispers before, tales of how wild she could become once the sheets were involved, and those rumors had lingered in the back of his mind with a mix of intrigue and caution. Yet facing the reality of it now, he found it was not such a terrible fate to serve her needs.

"As you wish, babe," he muttered before positioning himself beneath her. He parted her legs with boyish enthusiasm, wasting no time. In the same breath he tugged down the thin barrier that hid her most intimate warmth. His grin widened the moment he saw the proof of her desire glistening there. "You must really be desperate for this, huh?"

"Consider it your lucky day," Silvana replied, her tone rich with unshakable arrogance.

Hearing that was enough to make him dive in. His lips searched for her with eager devotion. Silvana’s head fell back until her gaze caught the blank ceiling above. There was always a kind of drunken pleasure in being explored, and for a moment she allowed herself to enjoy the ascent of sensation traveling through her.

His methods were not bad. In fact, they were surprisingly competent, almost sweet in how determined he was to please. But it was not the kind of touch that truly made Silvana light up. He lacked the precision, that ruthless artistry she adored. The stimulation he offered was nothing compared to what she could give herself. Still, the effort was not wasted and Silvana, in her own pragmatic way, acknowledged it.

Silvana swore that if it were Sir Leon beneath her thighs, he would know exactly what to do without a single instruction. The thought alone sent heat spiraling through her limbs. Sir Leon would not fumble. That man would know how to coax and savor every sensitive point, perhaps even offer slow tender kisses that would leave her trembling.

"Ah!" The sound tore from her lips before she could stop it, loud enough to make the young man halt his efforts.

"You liked that?" he whispered.

Instead of answering she gripped the back of his head. "Less talking. Just suck."

His voice had nearly shattered her fantasy, but once he obeyed she closed her eyes again and let the image return. In her mind it was Sir Leon who knelt there, eyes dark and focused, hands guiding her open while his practiced mouth worked her into a fever.

Another desperate moan fell from her throat. Her fingers clawed at the sides of the sofa where her body was half reclined. The wave she had been waiting for rose up with fierce determination. In her mind Sir Leon pulled back with that quiet arrogant smile that always haunted her. The imagined sight sent her tumbling over the edge. Silvana cried out and bucked beneath the pleasure. "Oh… Sir Leon."

"What did you just say?" The young man shot up from his position before she could even catch her breath.

Silvana blinked at him, irritated that reality had interrupted her victory.

"What?" she muttered.

"You just screamed someone’s name. And it definitely was not mine." His gaze had sharpened. Pride wounded and teeth clenched.

"Whose name did I say?"

"Sir Leon." The words were clipped. He watched her cheeks flush at the mention of the man. "Wait, that is the name of our profe—"

Silvana cut him off by capturing his mouth with hers. It was the fastest way to silence stupidity. The kiss melted into him quickly as his body eased and warmed under the contact.

"It is not important. So do not bring it up," she murmured against his lips.

"It is important because—"

Again he was silenced, but this time by her fingers curling around him, bold and unapologetic. His protest dissolved at once.

"You want me to put my mouth on it or not?" she asked, voice low and coaxing.

She was in a foul mood now, a storm cloud sulking behind her eyes. Men who talked too much had always grated on her nerves, especially the type who assumed their mere presence was worthy of extra attention. This young man was no exception. He carried himself with a certain arrogance and a strangely protective air toward her, though his actual performance left much to be desired.

Silvana regarded him with thinning patience. There was something fragile about the moment, something trembling between irritation and hunger. The young man opened his mouth as if to complain, then desire dragged his protest back into his throat.

"Yeah. I want you to do it," he said.

"Then stop talking. I need you quiet until we are done. Got it?"

He nodded once, obedience tripping into compliance. Silvana lowered herself, letting gravity and instinct guide her. In her mind she was already weaving a familiar script, a scene that burned with secret heat. This time Sir Leon would take the lead role in that private theater, though she must make do with the body before her, shaping him into the ghost of another man.

***

Ronald slammed his chopsticks onto the table with righteous fury sparkling in his eyes.

"He is such a jerk, seriously. How the hell did he get that successful while I am still stuck here. Total snake. I still cannot believe he turned out that cool. Bastard!"

Leon, Ronald, and Kelly were gathered at a small sushi place, the scent of rice and vinegar drifting like a quiet breeze between them. Ronald, who taught elementary school kids how to run and jump, had been the loudest voice at the table since they sat down. He spoke of an old college friend with fire in his chest and curses shaping his admiration. Though his language was coarse, both Leon and Kelly had heard this same topic more times than they cared to count. Ronald adored the man he insulted.

"Yeah. Seriously a bastard," Leon muttered, the words rough on his tongue.

He was not really cursing the college friend. His mood had already soured long before the first plate of sushi arrived. Something that had happened in his apartment four hours ago still clung to him, a taste he could not wash away. To make matters worse, Kelly seemed distant in a way that was unfamiliar. She barely acknowledged him, her smile tucked somewhere he could not reach.

Leon had no idea what he had done wrong. The thought of Kelly withdrawing for reasons unknown gnawed at him in a silent, unpleasant rhythm. The more he tried to puzzle it out, the more it dragged him downward. So he surrendered.

He rose abruptly from his seat, the movement drawing his friends' attention like startled cats. Before any of them could shape a question, Leon lifted his cigarette pack toward them, his gesture sharp and preemptive. He lit one before his shadow reached the doorway of the shop. The place had no space for smokers, so he stepped out into the night air.

Just before the door swung shut, Leon saw Kelly watching him. Her gaze was a strange fog, neither soft nor harsh, full of something she did not name. It left him adrift. The worst part was that he did not understand what exactly confused him. He had theories, of course, scraps of possible explanations, but he refused to chase them. To hell with it. He did not want to think about anything. He needed emptiness, and the cigarette was his chosen ritual.

Outside, the city breathed with slow indifference. Neon lights flickered across wet pavement as smoke coiled from his lips like a promise that never learned to speak.

Inside, Ronald was already distracted by another subject.

"Did you see her body? Damn she is sexy."

"She is a college student. Look at her. She has books in her hand. Maybe she knows something that keeps things spicy in bed?"

Leon caught the snickering first, a brittle kind of laughter that slithered between cigarette smoke and neon. He exhaled, flicked away the last ember, and turned his head. Two young men were huddled near the corner, whispering about a woman’s body as if the world owed them access to such fantasies. They were the sort who talked big and lived small, pests masquerading as men.

They had said something about a college girl. That alone made his jaw tense. The idea of those fools dissecting a student out loud curdled his mood. Without meaning to, Leon’s eyes narrowed into a warning. It was the closest thing to a growl his expression could manage.

He traced their line of sight, half hoping he was wrong. Half praying their crude attention belonged to some stranger he did not care about. But when he found the focus of their hunger, his heartbeat kicked. Silvana. Of course it was her. His most troublesome and magnetic student, standing with the effortless allure of someone who had no need to pose.

Realization pulled at him in quiet violence. He crushed the cigarette under his boot, not even noticing the sharp rasp of filter and ash. His steps carried him before the decision had been made. Each stride was heavy with an instinct older than reason.

The boys were still mid fantasy.

"Man, she is crazy mon—"

The sentence never finished. Leon’s hand twisted into the collar of one boy, dragging him up while the second friend sputtered in surprise as Leon caught him too.

"Yo what the hell dude?!" one yelped, eyes wide as saucers.

One of the boys yelped, outrage bubbling up as if he had been wronged. Leon felt not a shred of remorse. If anything, the flash of fear in their eyes fed something dark and deliberate inside him.

"You should really watch your mouths. The filth you think and spit out in public makes me sick. Got it?" His voice rose from the chest, rough and steady, and for a moment he looked less like the calm lecturer he was and more like a lion driven past patience. "And you will learn to respect women. Especially my female students. Understand?"

The two exchanged a panicked glance. They looked like rats caught under a hawk’s shadow, trembling as they nodded with wide, glassy eyes. The sight almost amused Leon. Their fear lightened his mood in a strange and fleeting way.

"Good." He released their collars. "I do not want to hear trash like that from you again. If I see you and you are still talking that way, you might end up tasting my fist."

"Y—yeah sir. Sorry. Really sorry," one of them stammered.

"Sorry sir," the other echoed.

"Get out of here. You are disgusting me."

They bolted. Leon watched their clumsy retreat with a predator’s satisfaction simmering beneath his skin.

Then came a voice he knew too well.

"Oh wow. No one has ever been man enough to defend my honor like that. Guess I could get used to it."

Leon turned. Silvana stood a few paces away with that sweet, maddening smile she wore like perfume. Hands on her hips, eyes glittering with the confidence of someone who knew precisely how striking she was. She flipped her long hair over her shoulder, and something inside him twisted.

For a heartbeat Leon went still. Old fantasies he had tried to bury stirred like flies in the warm air. Get a grip Leon. She is your student.

"By the way thanks Sir Leon," she said, sincere beneath the teasing.

"Umm yeah well…" Leon managed, his voice cracking like a teenage boy.

Perfect. Now he was acting like someone her age, flushed and awkward, as if puberty had come back for a second round. He cleared his throat and turned slightly, as though her gaze were too bright to meet head on.

"I just did what felt right. I know you. It would be weird to stand there while those idiots turned you into an object."

Silvana let out a soft giggle, a sound light enough to stir the warm night air.

"Alright then. I think what you did was actually pretty bold. I like that," she said with unbothered ease. Her gaze slid past Leon’s shoulder, checking to see whether the two boys had truly vanished. "They thought they could just walk up to me like that. But not everyone gets access, you know? So… what were they saying about me earlier?"

"Ah that," Leon muttered. He cleared his throat once more and reached for another cigarette, as if nicotine could straighten the tangled wires inside him. "I think you already know without me saying it. Just the usual gross things guys talk about."

He lit the cigarette and inhaled, but his composure was a thin veneer. Silvana’s eyes followed the movement, lingering on the cigarette resting between his lips. Then a grin blossomed across her face, all mischief and dangerous charm.

"Oh really?"

She leaned in closer, eyes wide with curiosity, so close he could count the flecks of gold in her irises. Something hot and unwelcome flickered in his mind again. For the second time tonight he had to wrestle with thoughts he had no business indulging.

"So what kind of gross things do guys usually talk about?" she asked. "And do you ever feel guilty about it?"

Leon let out a stiff laugh. The question was too sharp, almost surgical in how it poked at the truth he never intended to voice. Yes, of course he had indulged in such fantasies. And yes, on more than one shameful night, Silvana had been the center of them. But admitting such a thing would be madness.

Luck favored him in small, clumsy ways. He felt calmer now, the cigarette settling his nerves just enough for words to form.

"Never," he answered jokingly. "You should go home soon. It’s not safe for you to wander around this late wearing that."

Silvana raised a brow. "Oh come on, don’t change the topic like that. And we both know you’re lying."

Leon lifted his brows at her, a small sound of annoyance slipping through his throat. Silvana only grinned wider. She knew the power she carried, the way a little effort from her could warp the air around her into something ripe and dangerous.

She stepped closer, close enough that any passerby would mistake her for a coquette rather than a bright college student. She did not seem to care. "So what kind of things were you guys talking about, Sir Leon?" she asked. Her eyes flicked to his mouth again, hungry with curiosity. "Were you talking about what you would do to them? Or what you would do to the girls who like you?"

Leon removed the cigarette from his lips, releasing smoke that curled into the night like a spell. He exhaled slowly, his voice a shade lower. "There is no way I would expose that to girls. Especially not to a good girl like you."

Silvana said nothing. Her gaze lingered, tracing the smoke that wreathed around him. The nicotine haze framed him like the subject of a painting, something carved from shadows and arrogance. He looked back at her, and for a heartbeat both of them were caught staring.

In Leon’s mind, Silvana was a vision dipped in gold. City light brushed her cheekbones, made her features sharp and luminous. Her blonde hair caught the glow, turning it richer, almost molten. The shape of her body was defined with casual cruelty, as if the world itself conspired to make her more beautiful.

Silvana lifted her chin, lips curving as if she had just decided on a secret. "You know, Sir Leon, I am not as good as you think. I actually did something earlier that most other students would never do. Something you probably would not imagine."