Lucas knocked twice on the door of Professor Ava Whitlock's private office.
"Come in," her warm voice called from inside.
He pushed the door open and stepped into the familiar space. The room was bathed in soft golden light from the tall windows.
Ava was crouched gracefully on the floor near the corner, feeding her pet snow lynx — a fluffy white creature, Diana, with small pieces of glowing mana-infused food. The professor's elegant robe had ridden up slightly from its position, hugging the generous curves of her thick, rounded ass and drawing the eye to the way the fabric stretched taut over her hips.
Lucas's gaze lingered for a moment. Damn… she's deliberately doing this, or what, he thought, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
The snow lynx noticed him immediately. Its eyes narrowed with open suspicion as it stared at the newcomer.
Lucas met the cat's gaze and gave it a subtle, taunting look. The creature hissed sharply in response.
Ava turned her head, a gentle smile lighting up her face as she noticed Lucas.
"Don't mind my Diana, Lucas," she said lightly. "She isn't friendly with new faces."
Lucas chuckled softly. "Oh, don't worry, Professor. I'm sure she'll get used to me… since I'm not exactly the new face anymore."
Ava laughed lightly, a warm, melodic sound that filled the room. She stood up gracefully, brushing her robe back into place, and gestured toward the couch.
"Come, sit."
They settled on the plush leather couch in front of the low table. Ava leaned back comfortably, crossing one leg over the other, the movement causing her robe to shift slightly against her curves.
"So," she began, her golden-amber eyes studying him with genuine interest, "did you finally decide which faction you're going to join?"
Over the past few days, Lucas had been approaching her after classes with questions about factions, their structures, strengths, and weaknesses. Ava, knowing his unique situation compared to students who had prepared for years, had been more than happy to guide him as much as she could.
Lucas leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.
"I'm thinking of starting my own faction."
Ava's eyes widened in genuine surprise. She uncrossed her legs and sat up straighter.
"Why?" she asked, her voice carrying a note of concern. "Didn't I already explain that faction wars aren't decided purely by student grades or ranks? It depends heavily on the faction's overall standing and resources. Even if a brand-new faction starts at the lowest rank, the other groups will immediately begin challenging you. There's only so long you can stall or avoid conflict."
Lucas nodded, his expression calm and thoughtful.
"I know, Professor. I understand the risks. But if I join any existing faction, they'll only see me as a tool to fulfill their own desires. I won't have true freedom or space to operate on my own terms."
Ava pushed gently, her tone serious but caring.
"Lucas, don't underestimate the others. Even the unnamed group factions led by second-year students have members who have at least reached E-rank. How do you plan to defeat them when you're still only F-rank?"
Lucas met her gaze steadily, a faint, confident smile touching his lips.
"I don't plan to defeat them with brute force right away. I plan to make them regret ever challenging me."
Ava studied him for a long moment, the silence stretching between them. She could see the quiet confidence in his eyes — the same unshakable self-assurance that had unsettled her since the first time they spoke.
She finally sighed, a small, almost fond smile appearing on her face.
"You really are something else, Lucas Vanderbilt."
Ava started explaining which professors' expertise could be useful for Lucas, speaking with the same honest, warm tone she always used in her lectures.
"Professor Harlan is excellent for raw offensive magic and destructive power, but he tends to favor students who are aggressive in combat. Professor Sylas Morcant specializes in curse-type abilities and psychological warfare — he might be useful if you want to explore the more manipulative side of your class. And Professor Seraphina Hale, of course, is unmatched in Everything combined."
She paused, her golden-amber eyes meeting his.
"Though I must admit… if you're looking for someone who can truly understand the unique nature of a Mythic class and help you build a solid foundation without pushing you into any particular direction, I believe I can offer the most balanced guidance. My class is support-oriented, but I've studied many different paths. I won't try to mold you into something you're not."
Lucas listened carefully, his expression neutral, but inside, numerous thoughts raced.
He had been observing Ava closely these past days. He never let his true intentions show, always maintaining a respectful distance. The reason was simple: Ava Whitlock was an A-rank awakener.
Someone who had reached that level couldn't be seduced or deceived with cheap words or fake promises. Lucas's greatest weapon was patience — he baited, he waited, and when the moment was right, he struck precisely.
At first, Ava had been guarded around him, wary of his intentions. But now, he could see the walls had lowered, at least a little. Her posture had become more carefree in his presence. Her smiles bloomed more frequently.
And sometimes, her eyes would wander across his body when she thought he wasn't looking.
He decided it was time to make his move.
"So, Professor," Lucas said softly, his voice calm and gentle, "what has been troubling you these days?"
Ava blinked, caught off guard.
"What do you mean, Lucas?"
Lucas leaned forward slightly, his blue eyes steady and sincere.
"You're here, but your thoughts seem to be somewhere else. I can clearly see you've been preoccupied with something. If you don't mind, you can share with me. I may not be able to solve it, but at least you might feel a little lighter."
Ava's breath caught for a moment. She looked at him, her golden-amber eyes searching his face. For the first time in a long while, someone was asking about her — not her position, not her power, not what she could do for them, but simply what was weighing on her mind.
She hesitated, then let out a small, tired sigh.
"It's… nothing you need to concern yourself with," she said, though her voice lacked conviction. "Just some family matters. My mother… she has expectations. Ones I've been trying to avoid for years."
Lucas nodded slowly, his expression understanding.
"I know what it's like to have family expectations that feel like chains," he said quietly. "Sometimes it helps to talk about them. Even if it's just to someone who won't judge."
Ava looked at him for a long moment, the silence stretching between them. The golden light from the windows highlighted the soft flush on her cheeks and the way her robe clung to her full breasts as she breathed.
For the first time, she didn't immediately shut the conversation down.
"Maybe… maybe you're right," she whispered, almost to herself.
Lucas shifted closer on the couch. His knee brushed lightly against hers. His voice dropped to a warm, intimate murmur. "I'm sure you've heard the rumors about me, Professor. While I desperately wanted to deny them… life was merciless."
His voice grew quietly pained. "Everyone sees us as perfect beings who already have everything. But the battles we fight behind closed doors… no one knows. All I ever wished for was that my mother could stay sober long enough to see me succeed. Not to care for me — I could do that myself. I just wanted her to live. To witness what I could become. But that wish was never granted."
He moved closer still and carefully took her hand. Ava flinched at the cool touch of his fingers against her skin.
"Don't run from your problems," he said, voice low and steady. "Face them. Stand for yourself… so you never have to endure what I did."
A single tear slid down his cheek.
Ava's heart twisted. When he had first leaned in, she had been ready to stand and create distance. But the raw vulnerability in his words stopped her cold.
She didn't understand why this young man — who had known her for mere days — would bear such pain to her. Yet she felt it. The ache of never escaping a parent's crushing expectations. She understood that pain better than most.
Her hand moved of its own accord, gently brushing the tear from his cheek.
"Lucas… I'm sure your mother would be proud of you," she whispered.
"Professor…" Lucas kept her hand pressed to his cheek, his voice barely above a breath.
"Lucas…"
Ava's voice trembled with conflict. "This isn't appropriate. I'm your professor. We shouldn't—"
"We shouldn't what?" he interrupted gently, his other hand resting on the couch beside her thigh. "Shouldn't want someone to see us truly? Shouldn't want to let go of control, even for a moment?"
His fingers brushed lightly along the side of her leg through the thin robe. Ava shivered. Heat bloomed low in her belly; her thighs pressed together instinctively.
"You've been strong for everyone else for so long," Lucas continued, his voice a low, velvet rumble. "But you don't have to be strong with me. Not right now."
Ava's golden-amber eyes were wide, torn between duty and a hunger she had buried for years. Her breathing had grown heavier, the fabric of her robe rising and falling over the full, heavy curves of her breasts.
"Lucas…" she whispered. This time, the word sounded less like a warning and more like surrender.
He leaned in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, until his lips hovered a breath from hers.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured, dark and commanding, "and I will."
Ava's lips parted, but no sound came. Her eyes fluttered half-closed as the last fragile thread of resistance snapped.
She didn't know why — why she, who had turned away every man who pursued her, was letting a student this close.
Perhaps it was the echo of his pain. Perhaps it was the quiet greed to claim him as her disciple. Whatever the reason, she could not stop herself.
She closed the distance and kissed him.
The kiss began soft, almost tentative, on her side. Lucas took control at once. His hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as he deepened it with dominant hunger.
Ava moaned softly into his mouth — Mmmph… — the sound muffled and needy. Her full lips parted wider under his, her tongue meeting his in a hesitant, then eager slide. Heat flooded her core; a fresh rush of slick warmth soaked into her panties, making her thighs tremble.
Gods… what am I doing? The thought screamed through her mind even as her body arched into him. He's my student. I'm supposed to guide him, not let him ruin me like this…
Yet her hands betrayed her completely. Her fingers curled tightly into the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as another broken Ahh… vibrated from her throat.
Her robe had slipped off one shoulder, exposing the smooth curve of her collarbone and the upper swell of one heavy breast. Her hardened nipples rubbed against the fabric with every shaky breath, sending sparks of shameful pleasure straight to her core.
Lucas growled low in his chest, the sound vibrating against her lips. He kissed her harder, deeper, claiming her mouth with slow, deliberate strokes that left her dizzy.
Ava whimpered — Nngh… — her thighs pressing together tighter as the ache between them grew unbearable.
For one dizzying moment, she gave in completely, her body melting into his.
Then reality crashed back like cold water.
Ava tore her mouth away with a sharp gasp, turning her head to the side. Her chest heaved, lips swollen and glistening, golden-amber eyes wide with panic and lingering desire.
"Lucas — stop," she breathed, voice trembling. She placed both hands on his chest, pushing him back just enough to create space. Her palms trembled against the firm muscle there.
"We… we can't. This is wrong. I'm your professor. I'm supposed to guide you, not… not this."
Her cheeks burned crimson. She could still taste him on her tongue. Her nipples ached, painfully tight against the thin robe, and she was mortifyingly aware of the slick warmth soaking into her panties.
Shame coiled tight in her stomach, warring with the desperate want still pulsing between her thighs.
How could I let this happen? I've spent years keeping every man at arm's length… and now I'm letting a student kiss me like this? I'm disgusting.
Lucas didn't move away immediately. He stayed close, forehead nearly touching hers, his breathing steady and controlled. His blue eyes were dark and intense, but his voice remained gentle, almost soothing.
"I know," he murmured. "I know it feels wrong. But you said you wanted this. Your body is telling me the same thing right now."
He brushed his thumb slowly along her lower lip, the touch feather-light yet possessive. Ava shivered, another soft, involuntary Ahh… escaping before she could stop it.
She caught his wrist, though she didn't pull his hand away. Her fingers shook.
"Please," she whispered, eyes glistening with conflicted tears. "Not here. Not like this. I… I need time. I need to think. This could ruin everything — for both of us."
Lucas studied her for a long moment, reading every flicker of shame and desire across her flushed face. Then he gave a slow, understanding nod and eased back, though his hand lingered on her thigh for one final, deliberate second.
"I won't push you," he said quietly, voice low and sincere. "But I won't pretend this didn't happen either, Professor. And I won't pretend I don't want more."
Ava closed her eyes, drawing in a shaky breath. Her robe was disheveled, one shoulder still bare, her full breasts rising and falling rapidly.
She looked every bit the picture of a woman torn between duty and desire — and Lucas memorized the sight, filing it away like a weapon he would use later.
The silence between them was thick, heavy with everything they hadn't yet said.
Ava finally opened her eyes again, voice barely above a whisper. "…You should go, Lucas. Before I forget why I have to stop this."
Lucas stood slowly, adjusting his shirt with calm precision. At the door, he paused, glancing back at her — flushed, breathless, robe still slipping off her shoulder.
He smiled, small and dangerous. "Think about what you really want, Professor. I'll be waiting."
The door clicked shut behind him.
Ava remained on the couch for a long time, one hand pressed to her racing heart, the other clenched in the fabric of her robe. Her body still throbbed with unfulfilled need, shame, and arousal twisting together so tightly she couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.
***
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