Dangerous Imagination

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.