Teacher's Pet: The Professor's Surrender

The fluorescent lights of the lecture hall hum faintly above you, a stark contrast to the electric tension simmering in the front row. Luke and Max, two former students who shouldn't even be in your class, sit with casual arrogance, their smirks sending a familiar ache coiling in your gut.

Weeks have passed since that reckless afternoon on your desk, yet their presence, their knowing glances, continue to chip away at your carefully constructed facade of professionalism. You try to focus on your lecture notes, the words blurring on the page as the memory of their touch, their combined weight, floods your mind.

They are a constant, tantalizing distraction, a living reminder of the line you crossed. You know this is wrong, dangerous, but the craving, the desperate need they ignited, is a persistent whisper you can't seem to silence. Today, you decide you can't ignore it any longer.