The history class that I so enjoyed teaching had slowly become a source of anxiety. Between wanting Archer and trying to resist him, I was terrified that I’d slip up in front of my students, revealing just how much had actually happened between us. I didn’t like feeling that way. And for one brief moment when I walked into the room, I hoped and prayed that Archer had finally gotten the hint and dropped out.
But there he was, golden and beautiful as ever. And now he was sat right in the front fucking row.
I forced myself to look away from him, focusing instead on arranging my notes on the podium with more care than they required. The familiar routine of preparing for class should have been calming, but knowing Archer was sitting there watching my every move made my skin feel too tight.
And he looked sodamn good.
“Good afternoon, everyone,” I began, my voice thankfully steady despite the chaos in my head. “Today we’ll be discussing the formation of the Supernatural Accords of 1847 and how they changed the legal status of vampires and several other creatures within magical society.”
I risked a glance at the class and immediately regretted it. Archer was leaning forward slightly, his blue eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my unbeating heart skip. He was taking notes, but I could tell he wasn’t really paying attention to the historical content. He was studying me, cataloguing every gesture and expression like he was preparing for something.
“The Accords were revolutionary for their time,” I continued, pacing behind the podium to put some distance between us. “They established vampires as legal entities rather than magical creatures, which meant we could own property, enter into contracts, and participate in magical commerce.”
A student in the back row raised her hand. “Professor, what kind of resistance did vampires face when trying to integrate into magical society?”
“Significant resistance,” I replied, grateful for a question that didn’t require me to look directly at Archer. “Many magical families viewed vampires as fundamentally dangerous. Our feeding requirements were seen as predatory, our immortality as unnatural. There were concerns about vampires gaining too much influence through accumulated wealth and political connections. People who live a long time tend to accumulate a lot of wealth, though that’s not always the case.”
“But vampires don’t actually need to hurt people to feed, right?” This question came from a werewolf student near the middle of the room, Ms. Chen. “I mean, there are other ways?”
My jaw tightened slightly. This was exactly the kind of topic I’d been hoping to avoid, especially with Archer sitting there absorbing every word. “That’s correct. While some vampires do require blood, others can sustain themselves through different forms of energy. Sexual energy, for instance, or intense emotional states.”
I felt rather than saw Archer’s attention sharpen, his pen stilling on his notebook. The bastard knew exactly what kind of vampire I was now, if he hadn’t figured it out already.
“Sexual energy?” The werewolf looked genuinely curious. “How does that work exactly?”
Christ. This was like walking through a minefield blindfolded. “It’s a form of psychic feeding,” I explained, keeping my tone clinical and academic. “The vampire draws sustenance from their partner’s arousal and satisfaction. It’s actually considered one of the more ethical feeding methods, as it can be mutually beneficial when practiced between consenting adults.”
Several students were taking notes now, but I could feel the weight of Archer’s stare like a physical touch. When I finally made the mistake of glancing his way, he was wearing that same knowing smile that had gotten me into trouble in my office.
“Are there any legal restrictions on that type of feeding?” another student asked.
“The Accords established guidelines,” I said, turning back to the whiteboard and writing out dates with perhaps more force than necessary. “Consent is paramount, obviously. And there are professional ethics to consider. A vampire in a position of authority, for instance, would be expected to maintain appropriate boundaries, although that particular ethical line has only really taken root since the eighties.”
The irony of my words wasn’t lost on me, and I could practically feel Archer’s amusement radiating from the front row.
“What about romantic relationships?” This question came from a witch student I didn’t recognize. “Between vampires and other supernatural species?”
My hand tightened on the marker. “Such relationships weren’t uncommon, though they faced significant socialchallenges. Differences in lifespan, feeding requirements, and cultural expectations made them... complex.”
“But not impossible?” the student pressed.
“Not impossible,” I admitted, my voice rougher than I intended. “Though they required careful navigation of social prejudices and practical considerations.”
I spent the rest of the class period focusing strictly on dates and political developments, avoiding any topics that might lead to more personal questions. But I could feel Archer’s presence like a constant electric current, making it impossible to fully relax into my usual teaching rhythm.
When I finally dismissed the class, I made a show of organizing my papers while students filed out, hoping Archer would take the hint and leave with everyone else.
Of course, he didn’t.
“Fascinating lecture, Professor,” he said once the room was empty, his voice carrying that same undertone that had gotten me into trouble before. “I had no idea vampire feeding practices were so varied.”
“It’s basic biological fact,” I replied curtly, not looking up from my papers. “Nothing fascinating about it.”
“Really?” I heard him stand up, his footsteps approaching the front of the room. “Because I found the part about mutual benefits particularly educational. Makes me wonder what other feeding methods you might be willing to discuss in more detail.”
My hands stilled on the papers. “Mr. Quinn, if you have questions about the coursework, you can schedule office hours like any other student.”
“Oh, I don’t think office hours would be appropriate for the kind of education I’m interested in,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “After all, you did mention something about professional boundaries.”
