Feeding the Hungry Need
Summary: They're not meant to be, but fate has a way of screwing everything up whenever the 25-year-old teacher sees his 17-year-old student. With just one greeting from his student, every ounce of stress in him melts away. That is, until said student starts following him around like a puppy. Then all stress breaks loose.
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A/N: This fic was originally supposed to be in the Saiyuki fandom, but given that I miss the SnK fandom, I decided to change it and put it here. I'm back, y'all. XD
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Damn his student and his wiry body and his sense of humor and those large, beryl eyes that devour his every move.
'I must have him,' Levi thinks, as Eren walks up to greet him. The boy in question is a tall, lean, and tan boy. Young, too young, Levi thinks, but that's not what his mind is telling him right now.
"You're here again," the teacher says with an air of irritation, clicking his tongue as he rubs the back of his neck with his lesson plan. "You were supposed to be, what, in ninth grade now?"
Eren grins, and gives his former teacher a friendly salute. "I am. But I also want to be in your classes. So..." he shrugs, still giving him with the same lopsided smirk that Levi can't shake from his mind. "Care to allow me in?"
One of Levi's veins seem to pop, but can't help but feel a rush of... something, coursing through his system when he sees one of those stupid smiles.
"You know you're not supposed to be here, right? And correction, it's class, not classes. You can't be in all of my classes." Levi gruffly tries again, but not really trying, because fuck, he actually wants him in his class.
The stupid dog of a student shrugs again, and his grin seems to disappear, replacing it with one of his small smiles that plump his cheeks. "I know. But it's break time. Plus, I'm exempted from today's exam. So... let me in?"
Levi bristles in both ire and something he can't name. He stares at those stupidly teal eyes, that stupidly shaggy mop of brown hair, that stupidly attractive little grin—
Eren rolls his neck, his mouth parting as he does so. With his neck exposed, Levi can't help but drift his eyes to that tempting Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.
That stupidly developing jawline and those stupidly captivating stares that sometimes pierce Levi in place make his neck itch. The expanse of skin widens as the slightest dip of his collarbones peek through the material of his buttondown, white uniform, and Levi's fingers twitch, wanting to trace the pads of his forefinger down that alluring neck—
"Yeah, sure," Levi says dumbly, looking away and wiping a wee bit of his drool from his lip. He looks at his student from the corner of his eye, and feels his mouth go dry. "Get in," he groans out as he slides the door open, "don't give out answers like last time."
Eren laughs, bites his lip, and sways as he enters the classroom and sits on his favorite spot—right in front of the teacher's desk with their desks only a few millimeters away.
Levi grits his teeth and hisses under his breath as he slams the lesson plan on the table.
Eren leans back, smirks, and places one leg on his knee, the other one resting against the armrest—
—his unspoken message reaches his teacher.
And Levi looks away from the indecent display, feeling heat pool between his legs.
Minutes go by and the students pour in, some chattering, most of them hollering, some quietly entering and bowing to their teacher before they take their seats.
"Stand up."
Levi's quiet voice rings loud in the room. All chairs scrape on the floors as the class stood with their arms on their sides, some looking down, some looking straight at their teacher's face.
Eren, however, stands with his lips parted, a knowing smile playing underneath an innocent façade. His fingers curl and uncurl on his sides, his foot taps in impatience. His throat bobs as his shoulders quiver from what Levi can only deem as excitement.
"Bow."
The students deeply bow their heads in unison, save for Eren, who merely does a slight bow of his upper body.
All the while, he keeps eye contact with his teacher, neither of them looking away. Bright beryl at shining silver.
A shiver runs down Levi's spine.
"Sit."
They do so in perfect unison, save for Eren, who takes his time in sitting down.
The class is quick to take notice of their upperclassman sitting in their room.
"Teacher," says one student, who raises his hand as he eyes the languid Eren twirling a pencil in hand. "Why is he here again?"
Levi has already faced the board, writing down his lecture from memory. He takes time in processing an answer that won't involve spilling his expletives so early in the morning.
"Teacher?" the voice calls out again.
His hand glides smoothly across the board, the chalk drying out his fingers as quickly as he writes.
"Teacher, why is this upperclassman here? It's been a month already!"
He presses the chalk a bit too hard as he finishes writing a sentence.
"Teacher, he should've been in the next building, right? He already passed the test for the ninth grade, so why's he still here?"
He writes a word a bit too quick, and the chalk snaps, its fallen half of a corpse leaving dust on the floor.
He bends over to pick it up—he hates messes like this, hates the chalk dust on his clothes and shoes even more—and throws it on his desk without even looking back. It lands and rolls to the desk's edge, rolling straight to Eren's desk.
"Why?" Eren questions with a half-smile, toying with the broken piece of chalk in between his quickly drying fingers. "It didn't bother you when I was still your classmate, right? So why are you bitching about it now?"
Levi holds his breath. He himself shouldn't be cursing, shouldn't be tolerating cursing in the classroom, but here he is, tolerating cursing.
"That was that, this is this! You shouldn't even be here anymore, prick!"
"The fuck is your problem, you snitch?" Eren finally cranes his neck and drapes his arm on the back of the armchair, his fingers still toying with the piece of chalk slowly crumbling under his hold. "You jealous because I skipped a grade yet still decide to return here?" He glares at his—former—classmate, a pale, short-haired blonde with a loud mouth keen on rubbing everyone the wrong way.
Levi keeps writing on the board.
"Of course I'm fucking jealous, you butt monkey! You get to be in fucking grade nine and grade eight at the same time! You're fucking unfair!"
Some of her classmates sitting beside her scrape their chairs away as subtly as they can, avoiding any eye contact from the fiery girl.
"Ms. Dreyse, could you shut your mouth?"
All eyes fall on Levi, who looks eager to murder everyone on the first period of class within five minutes.
The girl tries to talk back, but the teacher already has a pen in hand, twirling it higher and higher.
She bows her head and mutters a sorry excuse for an apology, earning a snort from her former classmate.
"Now that everyone's settled, get your notebooks and start writing. This activity should've been done a week ago if you hadn't started procrastinating because it was Golden Week. Now that things are back to normal, start writing."
One student raises his hand—
"Start. Writing."
—and lowers his hand slowly.
The class fumbles to get their things on the table, others try to talk to their seatmates, asking them where their notebooks have gone. The fiery girl keeps sneaking dirty looks at Eren, who has settled on leaning back on his seat and crosses his legs once more, smiling at their completely-not-flustered teacher.
Levi sits down behind the desk with his hands clasped, covering his mouth as he eyes everyone with a sharp gaze, and purposefully avoiding the stares of one particular student.
"Teacher," Eren starts, leaning towards the man with a tiny smirk, "how about I do something, too? Can I watch something?"
Levi clicks his tongue, irritated as a rumbling snarl slips past his lips, "You're already watching."
Eren pauses, raises a brow at him, and his smirk widens. Leaning back onto his chair, he idly hums, the sparkle in his golden eyes dancing as he rakes in his teacher's form.
Levi tries to brush off his relentless student's stare by burying his nose in a pile of unchecked papers. Being an eighth grade History teacher has its ups and downs, and recently, those ups and downs are battling against each other.
Ups—he gets to teach what he likes.
Downs... well—
Eren bites his inner cheek and lip as he toys with the piece of chalk in his hand, the pads of his fingers gliding and circling down the little cylinder.
—downs: he can't focus on his task because of his stupidly stubborn student.
He sighs, and tries reading the first paper on the huge stack on his table. Within seconds, he loses focus and interest, the words becoming blurred and garbled.
Fuck those stupidly large eyes.
He closes his eyes, mentally curses all the gods he can think of, and tries again.
"Eren, could you please stop staring?" he hisses low enough for only Eren to hear.
"But you told me I could watch," the student answers with a mockingly coy smile and a bite of his lower lip.
"I didn't mean me," Levi breathes in a hiss, holding his pen just a tad tighter.
He knows he can only control the actions of his—former—student to a certain degree, but fuck, he wants to slam a table on Eren's head—
Eren uncrosses his legs, spreading them unnecessarily wide while smiling and toying with that stupid chalk.
—or maybe slam Eren on a table.
He checks his watch. It's only been five fucking minutes.
Well, fuck.
"You didn't elaborate," Eren says, that devious smile dripping from his whispered words.
Levi almost groans.
He ignores his student, and writes on his lesson plan once more.
The minutes tick by, and Levi has to drown the ticking by scratching his pen harder on the paper. Eren stares at him still, observing every minute move, every microexpression, every intake of breath, and Levi does a fine job of controlling any sound tumbling from his throat.
More minutes pass by—15, as seen on the wall clock—and Levi gets into a trance of completing his weekly plan. He has even managed to block out Eren's intense stare within a few minutes. That's got to be a record.
Half an hour passes, and Levi puts his pen down.
"Pass your papers."
Some students look shocked, others calm, and one opens their mouth to speak.
"Pass. Your. Papers."
They obey. The sound of papers shuffling and hushed whispers reverberate in class.
"Eren. Collect them."
Eren shrugs with a carefree smile, and does as he's told. Once he gets to the fiery blonde, his smile drops. "Paper."
The girl glares at him, pouting. He can see a bit of a fang peeking when she speaks. "Why are you here? Go back to your building."
Eren releases a long sigh, "Not until first period is over. Now, hand me your paper."
The girl peeks at Levi, who's hunched over his desk, reading a book about small animals. She tuts, and hands her paper over without a word.
"Thanks," Eren says, his voice clipped, and goes over to the rest of the row. Once he places all the papers on Levi's table, he sits back on his chair and smiles with his hands clasped neatly on the desk.
The very picture of a student sucking up to his teacher.
Levi pauses his thought, and his brain immediately comes up with something inappropriate.
Bad brain. Bad.
So he clears his throat and stands up, makes them recite highlights from each paper that has been passed.
Some students groan and sink lower into their seats. Some look at different parts of the room, focusing and trying to remember what they have written down.
Eren sits back on his chair, and copies the lecture instead.
Levi goes around the room, calling anyone he lands his eyes on. Never mind that they're prepared or not, what matters is that they have something to say, it doesn't matter if their statements are in their paper or not.
He's kind of lenient like that.
"Ms. Dreyse," the teacher says, "what can you say about your essay?" He says it with an air of authority—one eyebrow raised and tapping a pen on his palm. The girl groans and looks away, her mouth curls in a forced smile with too much teeth, stretching her freckle-ridden cheeks, rubbing her palms in an effort to soothe her nerves.
Eren almost laughs.
"Uh, it's all... in the paper?" she asks, finally looking up with a ray of hope, only for it to be crushed when she sees Levi snarl and roll his eyes to high heaven. She hears him mutter a curse, and moves on to the next student.
This goes on for the rest of the hour, until everyone has had their fair share. Dreyse becomes the last one to be called again, and when it all ends, Levi finally wraps up his lesson with a whole page of hastily scribbled numbers next to his students' names.
"Tomorrow, make sure you give me answers that are fit for an eighth grader. The answers you gave me were shit."
And there it is. The usual Mr. Levi Ackerman swear.
Some students laugh, some bow their heads in shame, some look at him and smile sheepishly. Levi sighs and tells them to stand. And when they do, they bow, bidding him with a monotone goodbye for the day.
Levi leaves the room with the sliding door open. He mentally counts to three before he hears the telltale rattling of a chair and a desk, followed by clothes shuffling against the fabric of a backpack, and finally, the rapid strides from too-noisy feet and the sound of the sliding door shutting behind—
"Teacher, let me help."
Levi sighs, and turns to look at him with mild annoyance. "I only have my lesson plan and a notebook with me. This shit's not heavy." His voice tells tiredness, but the upward curl of his lips tell amusement.
Eren stops mid-stride, "Oh." He looks at the notebook and the lesson plan in his teacher's hand, tries to assess if he can have any sort of flimsy excuse to stay with him longer—
"Can't think of any, can you?"
Eren blinks, and realizes he has probably looked too pensive, because Levi looks amused, if that little twitch from his jaw is any indication.
Levi tries again, "You ran out of chances to stay longer with me. You can go to your building now."
The student tries and fails to conceal the hurt that briefly crosses his face, but he knows. His teacher has noticed it. It's a small expression—a little twitch from under his right eye, a quiet click of the tongue, and an overall face scrunched in dismay.
"Well," Eren says in a breathless voice, struggling to smile albeit it never reaches his eyes. "I'll go to you again tomorrow, Teacher." Eren bows while he smiles a tad too forced, and Levi swallows a lump in his throat.
He wants to say something, but decides against it. So Levi nods and briefly pats him on the head. "Take care on your way there," he murmurs, his words a quiet breath of life to Eren's simmering flame.
The student looks up. Levi has yet to remove his hand. Eren beams wide.
"I will," the teal-eyed teen whispers back. It is a fun little game they have created, talking quietly in the already quiet hallway. It's like they share a secret only the two of them know. It's fun. It's exhilarating. It's—
"Mr. Levi, there you are!"
The large, warm hand resting on Eren's head quickly slides away from his auburn locks as another teacher, Mr. Smith, jogs his way to them.
—it's dangerous.
Eren ducks under Levi's arm, and mouths a quiet 'bye' to him before grinning.
Levi gives him a silent wave and nod, and then he's gone.
"Mr. Levi, hi! It's almost time for your next period, I know, but—"
Mr. Smith speaks to him, not really understanding what he's saying. He nods absentmindedly as he looks far ahead, to where his student has gone.
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Levi spends his break time eating while reading classical literature novels he had borrowed from one of the teachers. He chews on a celery stick as he turns a page, mulling over the flowing script on paper.
At one point, he wonders how he had ended up in a predicament, and mentally curses all the gods he knows.
The words blur as he ponders over anything and everything.
Having a co-worker crush on you is one thing, having a student crush on you is another, but having the teacher crush on the student crushing on said teacher is on a whole new and entirely forbidden level.
"Fucking shit," he mutters, and hears a cough from behind him. Craning his neck, he sees Ms. Hange, grinning at him with her usual manic self.
"Having trouble understanding haiku again?"
Levi tuts, gives her the finger, and she laughs. Figures. "None of your business, Four-Eyes."
"Oh, it is so my business. You see, that is my book you're holding." She gives him another smile as she takes a seat in front of him. It's the smile that's sure to annoy him to no end. Levi rolls his eyes.
"That shit won't work on me. I'm not giving you any of my dirt this time." He smirks when she snaps her fingers in a mock gesture of defeat. He falls silent, toys with the rim of his teacup sitting beside the plate of celery sticks. "It's complicated."
"What is?" she asks, and boy, does she make everything sound absolutely interesting when she widens her eyes like that. And her wide grin is back. He knows he's about to crumble in defeat.
He really can't keep his mouth shut if she's around.
"It's a new thing…"
"A new love? You found someone? Is it Mr. Smith? I knew it, you finally realized he's hot, didn't you? Ooh, give me the deets!"
He slaps his palm to her noisy mouth, lowers his voice as a teacher passes by. "Shut up, Hange, it's not Smith."
Her brows furrow and she cocks her head to one side, "It's not Smit'?" She tuts, removes his hand from her mouth and leans closer to him, "It's not Smith?"
"Fuck no—" he denies, shakes his head in vehemence, and glares at Mr. Smith's retreating figure. "It's… a… well—"
Hange blinks, waits in anticipation, and, realizing her friend is going to stall for the longest time possible, she leans back into the chair and sighs, "Levi, I don't care if it's someone of the same sex or of the female sex, I mean, unless it's an alien you're in love with, then you're going to have a problem."
"—it's a student."
Hange blinks, "A what?"
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Eren twirls his pen around as his teacher writes down the homework on the blackboard. His legs feel restless, itching to take off and go somewhere far from his building.
Beside him, his best friend Armin notices Eren tipping his chair back and forth, his eyes looking distant. He eyes the board, and after noticing that the teacher won't turn around, he taps Eren on his arm. "What's up?" he whispers, "You have to pee?"
Eren scoffs, shakes his head with a smile, and leans to his friend, lowering his voice in a hiss, "No, Armin. I don't need to pee. It's—it's him."
Armin tilts his head, studies the wide smile now blooming on Eren's face, and nods with his mouth slack, "Mr. Berner? What about him?"
Eren snaps his neck to his friend, offended, "What? No. Not him. Him." He gestures his palm facing downwards and slides it just below his shoulder, and Armin nods slowly.
"Oh," he whispers, "Mr. Ackerman—" He stops when Eren nudges him a bit to roughly on the arm with his elbow.
"Don't say it out loud," he hisses. "Yeah, him. I saw him again."
"Because you keep going to his class."
"Only because I want to learn more."
"You mean only because you want to learn more about him?"
"The lesson is not about him, Armin. It's about history."
"Uh huh. And since when did you take interest in history?"
Mr. Berner turns around, Armin and Eren retreat to their seats, and he smiles to the class.
Today's class monitor tells them to stand. The class stands. "Bow." The class bows. Mr. Berner leaves, and the class erupts in a cacophony of noise once more. Armin and Eren pull their chairs closer.
"I heard he's new but strict. How did you get by him?" Armin asks, his blue eyes wide and smiling, and Eren starts talking, about how his new teacher was small, handsome and pale, curses a lot, has a bit of an OCD, but not afraid to get his hands dirty with chalk, and earns all the students' admiration for being 'the cool teacher' that curses in that deep, scratchy voice of his—
"Eren, I'm pretty sure you made that one up yourself."
"I know, Armin, but still. It's true. I can't describe his voice, it sounds gravelly—"
Between them, a girl sits writing down the homework on the board. "And does this teacher allow you to be in his class?" she asks, finally looking up from her notes. She looks disinterested, but her dark brown eyes betray her as she openly stares at Eren.
Eren smirks, looks at the floor, and bites his lip, "Yeah. I mean, I was his student, so…"
She sets her pencil on the desk, her mouth agape, and scoffs, "Eren, you can't stay there. What if another teacher sees you there, then you'll be in trouble for being in a class that you're not supposed to be in anymore!"
Eren's face twists in disdain, "What's your problem, Mikasa? Mr. Levi says it's fine, so it's fine."
"You call him by his name?" Armin and Mikasa asked in a shocked unison.
"Oh dear—Eren. You call him by his name? And he's okay with that?" Armin asks, his eyes wide as he looks close to panicking. Eren shrugs.
"Yeah, he says it's okay to call him that. So we do. Well, not everyone calls him by his first name. Some call him by his surname, but it's longer, so…"
Mikasa can't take it anymore, so she does what she does best—lecturing Eren about the horrors of pursuing a romantic relationship with a teacher. "I know you, Eren. You tell your feelings as it is and you have no filter. That's okay, but this time, it's a teacher. You have to be careful with what you say! One wrong word and the both of you can get kicked out for being indecent! Especially on Mr. Ackerman's part, because he's the older one!"
"Mikasa," Eren laughs out, dismissing her words with a wave of his hand, "Just because you and him have the same surname doesn't mean you have to jinx him, alright? I know what I'm doing—"
"And I know what you're trying to say. You think everything will be in control if you stay in control, but that's the thing, Eren. You don't keep control. Remember what happened to Jean?"
Eren pouts, glares at her, and taps his pen on the desk, "That was because he kept trying to go on a date with you. Besides, the bone in his nose got reattached, right?"
"That's not the point, Eren. You can't keep things in control. And from what I've heard from you, he can't keep his control either if he curses a lot and says what he thinks all the time."
Eren pouts and says nothing more as the next period starts.
In comes their homeroom teacher, happy-go-lucky-and-insane Ms. Hange Zoë, strutting in with a diorama in her arms. "Good day, everyone! …nope. No need to stand and bow, Sasha. All of you just sit down," she beams at the class as she puts down her diorama on the desk. She claps her hands, takes attendance one by one, and hums when she reads one particular name, "Mr. Eren Yeager?"
"Yes!"
She looks up from the glasses slipping to her nose, and smiles from ear to ear, biting back a small laugh that spills from her closed lips, "Tee hee. Hello to you, too, Eren. Okay, next! …Ms. Ymir…? Is she here?"
Armin taps Eren on the shoulder and nods to Ms. Hange, "What was that all about?"
To this, Eren shrugs, and looks back at Mikasa and Armin, "Dunno."
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Levi paces his room as he drinks his tea in a mug. His jaws are clenched and tense, feels his stomach twist and turn with each step, and he feels short of breath—
His phone dings from the bed, and he jumps on it with a shivering hand, careful to place the mug back on the dresser. He had talked to Hange earlier on their way home, had talked about how Eren is doing on her class—Science—and how she had told him she hadn't noticed it before. The faraway stares, the forlorn sighs, the restlessness right before break time starts. She had immediately assumed it was because Eren was entering the 'minefield phase of being a teenager'—and Levi supposes he is in one, but still—
He flicks the screen open, bites his smile away as he opens Hange's message.
[Cool. Got his account name on me of course. Being my student and all that. Here it is.] Below is a link to Eren's personal social media page, and, with a sweaty thumb, he clicks on it, opening a new app and a window to load. He types a response.
[Thanks, Hange. Next round of drinks is on me. And by drinking, I mean it's just you.]
Five seconds later, Hange responses with an emoticon of a heart and what he assumes is a wide smile from the devil, [I'll take your word on that, Captain.]
[Stop calling me that. Our archery club years was over 10 years ago. Stop bringing it up.]
[But it's fun to call you Captain, Captain. You were so small! Well, still small, but you know. Tee hee.]
[Fuck you, Four-Eyes.]
[Squee!]
Levi sighs and goes back to the app where Eren's page loads. He bites his lip when it completes. And saves the profile picture immediately.
There on the screen was a close-up picture of Eren, showcasing his ridiculously large eyes with the most startling shade of blue and green mixed together. Levi tries to make out if it's enhanced in any way, but finds none. Even if it has been enhanced, he doesn't care, those eyes are breathtaking to look at. He zooms in on the picture, sees the reflection on those teal eyes. He notices Eren has held the phone sideways, and that's all he can see.
Where was the picture taken, he wonders—was it in his room, in the classroom, in a park?
He can't tell. But—
"God bless his parents," he sighs, and swipes to the next pictures—a total of six in all, all various objects in various states of close-ups. There's one with a picture with just Eren's face—Levi saves that immediately—there's also one with a picture of a pair of shoes, one with his friends Mikasa and Armin, one with a picture of him cradling his chin in his hand while in the classroom. "Armin must have taken this, heh."
He swipes right again, and chokes on his spit.
There, on the screen, decked in only a loose pair of dark green boxers, is a tan and fit Eren, splashing the sea foam away with his lanky arms. Beside him stands Armin with his hands up to his face, shielding himself from the water being splashed on him. He feels his mouth go dry and his breathing run short, his heart thumping against his ribs as his eyes rake over the expanse of Eren's flesh adorned by rivulets of water and blessed by the gods of puberty and all things young—
He bites his lip and rolls over, and upon looking down, he sees he's quite young there, too.
He groans as his pants graze his now sensitive skin, itching for any form of release. He denies himself as his thumb glides on the screen, saving the picture for a future use.
He contemplates about his next move—too soon, he thinks, but he can't help it, he wants what he wants, and he wants Eren.
He lets out a shaky sigh, one that relieves and constricts him at the same time. Damn Hange for egging him on. Damn these stupid hormones that should've died with him when he turned 20. Damn that stupid boy and that stupid body and his stupid devil-may-care attitude that draws in wanted and unwanted attention alike. He hisses a breath and holds it there, curses the heavens, and drags the heel of his palm down his aching dick, letting out a grateful and shuddering breath.
A tear slips down his temple as his fingers splay, claw, and rake on his need. His staccato breaths slip past his parted lips as his eyes close shut, keening in a voiceless want. The phone slips from his other hand as he pulls and tugs on his hair, and his back arches off the bed as he feels wetness coming onto his sweaty palm. He mouths his student's name, and another tear slips past his temple. Another, and another, all the while, he pumps himself into completion, uncaring for the noises and the whines he's making. Releasing his hold on his hair, he bites onto his wrist as he strokes himself tight and hard, twisting and rolling his fingers around the head of his weeping cock as he imagines Eren's hand pumping him—
It's wrong. Completely wrong. A teacher fantasizing about a student. So wrong. But the wrongness of it all sends Levi into a haze of want, trying to attain what he cannot have. He has never met anyone who could make him come with just his presence, not even the people at work, not even that tall and muscular Mr. Smith could make him come with just his presence. But this teenager, this boy—
Just one look at him and he goes wet, already wanting to go down on his knees and suck him dry right in front of the class.
He moans, cries in frustration, and snaps his hips up as he comes, Eren's name painting his lips.
He pulls his hand from his slacks, sees the come dripping there, and mindlessly licks it off his digits one by one. Once done, he lets out a sigh, lets his eyes drift close.
He knows he should be feeling disgusted, repulsed, aghast at the idea of thinking of boning someone half his age, and his student, no less, but fuck—
He regrets nothing, and the wrongness of it all makes it feel so right.
He wipes his hand on his black slacks—the only thing that he regrets immediately—dreams of his new favorite fantasy—having his (technically) former student all to himself.
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A/N: Fanfic mostly based on a RL event (read: the first scene, I mean). Also, 20 pages for the first chapter. Not bad.