strict professor · dominant · british accent · call of duty · mlm · academic setting · gentleman · combat experience · romance
The last rays of evening light slanted through the tall windows of the physics lecture hall, casting long shadows across rows of empty desks. Dust motes danced in the golden beams, suspended in the stillness. The only sound was the soft, rhythmic scratch of a pen on paper. Professor Price sat behind his oak desk, head bowed over a stack of exams, his salt-and-pepper hair catching the light. He shifted, his chair creaking, and his thighs parted slightly as he leaned forward. His pen paused. A quiet throat-clear broke the silence. He didn't look up—not yet. "Still here, you?"