So here's the start of one of the multi-chapter AUs you might have seen me hint about a while back. Never thought I'd do a college AU, but there you go. I'm posting it so I have incentive to actually finish the story. ^^; Hope you enjoy! Later parts may only be posted on my dreamwidth for naughty, naughty reasons. :0
And don't forget to check out the strifehart kink meme and the round robin/cyo that 1diagonalscar and I got going! Links are in my profile.
Seven-fifteen was way too early to be in class, Cloud griped silently to himself. He'd thought he had left all that behind over a year ago in high school. He hefted his backpack higher up on his shoulders and continued trudging through the wet grass toward the arts building. It had rained overnight and the sodden grass was uncomfortable and squishy beneath his shoes, but it was the fastest way across the promenade and he didn't want to be late, especially on the first day of the semester.
He gave a sigh of relief upon reaching the pavement, quickly scuffing the grass off of his shoes and jogging up the stairs to the entrance of the old two-story brick building. His wet shoes squeaked relentlessly on the polished hardwood floor lining the hallway, and he grimaced at the sound.
Room 101…102…there it was, Room 103. He pushed down on the brass door handle and stepped inside.
It looked like a normal art classroom, with wooden stools and studio easels set in an open circle of eight around a modeling stand. Six other students were already seated, and he was glad to see his best friend among them.
"Hey, Tif," he said, setting his bag at the base of the stool next to hers. He checked his phone quickly—five minutes early—and made sure to flip it to silent before tucking it back in his pocket.
"Hey, you," Tifa said with a smile, a hint of white teeth peeking between her glossy lips. "Ready for this?"
Cloud was just about to reply when the door opened once more and a tall red-haired man swept (for there could be no other verb to describe it, what with his graceful movements, dramatic attire, and perfectly styled hair) into the classroom. Upon surveying the small group of students before him, he gathered himself up, cleared his throat, and began to speak.
"I…am Genesis Rhapsodos," he declared smoothly. "I am the head professor of Literature, Poetry, and Theatre here at Midgar State University—some of you may remember me from my widely-respected lectures on the classic, LOVELESS? No? Hrm—and this term you have the distinct pleasure of having me as your instructor for Life Drawing. I have comparatively little experience in the visual arts, however, as Mrs. Highwind is out on extended maternity leave, I have been selected to grace your presence and guide your way throughout the entirety of this course."
The professor continued on for a few more minutes about the processes for the class and his various accolades, and before long, Cloud could feel his eyes glazing over. He'd really have to buy a coffee machine for his dorm room. Judging by the glance Tifa threw his way, she was thinking the same thing.
With a sigh, he set about preparing his supplies. There was newsprint already clipped to the back board sitting on his easel, so he reached into the backpack at his feet and pulled out a scrap he'd cut from an old white t-shirt, draping it across one thigh. Then he selected a piece of charcoal from his pencil case and set it on the easel.
There was a brief knock on the door, and then it swung open to reveal a Greek god, straight out of last semester's art history textbook.
Or at least that's what Cloud's mind registered. He dropped his pencil case blindly into his bag, eyes widening as the man stepped further into the room, all tall, dark, and rugged, dressed in black belted leather pants, biker boots, and a leather jacket over a white v-neck shirt. Three other belts were slung lower on his hips at different angles (four belts—who wore four belts? Sex gods, apparently), and a large leather satchel was slung casually over one shoulder. He stood there briefly, weight balanced on one lean leg and hand resting on the opposite hip, and his blue eyes skimmed over each of the students before landing on the professor.
Holy shit. Holy shit. Had Cloud been prone to vivid erotic dreams, this guy could have walked right out of one.
"Ah, our muse hath arrived," Professor Rhapsodos intoned with a broad smile. "Please, Leon, when you are prepared…" He motioned to the platform in the center of the room, the length of which was draped in a thick, soft piece of dark velvet.
The man—Leon—nodded once, and headed for the back corner of the room where a folding screen was waiting for him to disrobe in privacy. He passed behind Cloud on the way, leaving the faint, warm scent of leather and some kind of nice-smelling soap in his wake.
Holy. Shit.
Cloud's mind was reeling. This was life drawing, yes; nude models were part of the plan. But judging by how well he was coping with seeing this particular model clothed…well, he wasn't so sure he could handle this whole thing professionally.
He swallowed hard and focused his gaze on the folds of black fabric on the platform, waiting for the model to come back out. Then he realized his leg was bouncing up and down nervously, and he braced his foot up on the rung of the stool so he wouldn't be annoying himself or anyone else in the room. He reached for his charcoal as a distraction, fiddled with it for a moment, then put it back with a frown, wiping the black smudges onto the rag.
He could do this. He was a goddamned fine arts major, this class was one of the most basic parts of his education, and his mother was trying her hardest to supplement where his scholarship was lacking. He wasn't going to let a sudden case of the jitters—or a sudden case of desperate sexual attraction—get the best of him.
But did they seriously have to hire the most gorgeous guy on the planet to be their initiation into drawing nudes? Seriously?
From the stool beside him, he heard Tifa clear her throat softly. Once she had his attention, she raised her eyebrows and wiggled them playfully at him.
He glared at her, then stuck just the tip of his tongue out in an immature rebuttal. She'd be no help at all. They'd been friends since they were five years old, and ever since they'd discovered (yes, together) that he swung that way back in high school, she'd made it her mission in life to butt into his. …Figuratively speaking.
And then Leon came back out. He approached the platform, and the litany of holy shits running through the back of Cloud's mind turned into holy fucks as the white robe slipped from broad, tanned shoulders and puddled at the man's feet.
"We shall begin with two minute gestures," Professor Rhapsodos said. "You may proceed."