The rumble of Yuki's familiar motorbike, a mechanical heartbeat against the quiet morning, announced her arrival. Professor Mackenyu, his eyes scanning the parking lot from his window, felt a familiar flicker in his chest, a spark of anticipation that had become a constant companion since their stolen kiss.
He spotted her, perched on the last bench, her hair a halo of sunshine against the brick wall. He tried to catch a glimpse of the swollen lips he'd worried about, but the distance and the angle were uncooperative. It was a small relief, but the ache in his own heart remained, a phantom limb yearning for the touch he'd tasted just hours ago.
He left earlier than usual, the echo of their encounter clinging to the empty classroom. The once sterile space felt charged with a new energy, the scent of her perfume a lingering ghost in the air.
When Yuki reached his castle-like house, a monument to his success and solitude, she found him in the kitchen, bathed and freshly dressed. The scent of coffee and cinnamon hung in the air, a strange counterpoint to the image of him, apron tied around his waist, a spatula in his hand.
The house, with its high ceilings and ornately carved furniture, felt strangely familiar to Yuki. She couldn't quite place it, but a sense of déjà vu lingered, a whisper from a forgotten dream.
"How are your lips?" Professor Mackenyu asked, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine.
Yuki blushed, a flush creeping up her neck. "They're fine," she mumbled, her gaze flitting across the room, avoiding his intense scrutiny.
He offered her a drink, coffee or tea, but she declined. "I don't need anything," she said, reaching into her leather bag.
She pulled out a lollipop, its brightly colored wrapper a stark contrast to the muted tones of the room. She popped it into her mouth, sucking it with a slow, deliberate movement.
Professor Mackenyu froze, his gaze snagged on her lips as they worked the candy, a silent invitation in every lick. He felt a heat rise in his own body, a response as primal as it was unexpected.
"So, Professor," Yuki asked, her voice a husky whisper, "any juicy plots brewing in your head? Any new characters whispering secrets in your ear?"
He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "Maybe," he admitted, his voice rough. "But I think I might be inspired by something else right now."
He stood up, his eyes holding a challenge, a promise. "You seem very good at sucking lollipops," he said, his voice a low growl. "Maybe you're good at sucking other things too."
The air crackled with unspoken tension, a charged silence punctuated only by the click of the clock on the wall. Yuki's eyes, sparkling with a mischievous glint, met his.
"What flavor is it?" he asked, his voice a low growl.
She met his gaze, a playful challenge in her eyes. "Want to taste?" she asked, holding the lollipop near his mouth.
He hesitated, torn between the pull of desire and the remnants of his carefully constructed walls. But in the face of her audacity, his resistance crumbled. He leaned in, his lips brushing hers, the taste of the lollipop a sweet explosion on his tongue.
The kiss, fueled by the forbidden fruit of her offering, was a wildfire. He tasted her lips, the candy, the lingering echoes of their previous encounter. It was a heady mix, a dizzying dance of desire and danger.He tasted the lollipop, the sweet cherry mingling with the tang of blood, a reminder of their shared transgression.
He pulled her closer, his hands finding their way beneath her leather jacket, his touch sending shivers down her spine. She responded with equal fervor, her hands clutching at his shirt, her body a willing participant in this unexpected waltz.
