summary : Martin has never been good with others, but music? Best friends. He could‘ve sworn he didn‘t need a tutor, but.. y/n was there. They helped him actually learn something. but one night.. martin and his father got in a HUGE fight. A few “you’re a disgrace!” And “get the fuck out of my house!” Was thrown around, and he had no one else but y/n to go too.
hubba bubba chewing gum OMG I’m going insane I said I would never like him but like bro 💔💔 Hea so awkward aw aw no I can’t like him so I’m just gonna Stop 💔💔
PT . 01 - 02 - 03 - 04
warning : use of y/n!! You don’t like it, pls scroll!!
can you guess who was always in the music room? the same person who was blaring his electric guitar like it was something he needed? martin edward park.
he had always drowned himself in beats and chords like it was his safe haven, like he didn’t have James, or juhoon, seonghyeon or keonho to go too. but nonetheless, he always interrupted y/n’s studying— even when she was miles away from campus.
when y/n got called to the principals office, it was a shock. Multiple student in her homeroom murmuring ‘oooooohhh’s’ and ‘she’s in troubleeeeee!’ crazy, right? the perfect, prim, proper y/n, being called to the office! y/n slowly got up from they’re seat, walking down the empty hall towards the front office.
once inside, they sat down next to.. Martin? The same boy who skated down the hall like it wasn’t a school violation?
“you’re tutoring Martin.”
“me?!”
“you.”
“Him?!”
“yes. You, y/n, are tutoring Martin.” Said the principal, not at all shocked by y/n’s dramatic melody. “b-but i didn’t sign up for this!” y/n tried to defend herself, even as she slumped against her chair like they were sentenced to a death sentence.
y/n glanced sideways to see a disinterested, bored martin laid back in the chair next to them, and scoffed under their breath. “would he even listen to me? who volunteered me as a tutor! I’m horrible at teaching people!!” y/n complained, even as martin sighed from all the energy in the room.
“just shut up already.” martin grumbled, and stood up with a tall pride, aura alluminating with his sharp, stricken cologne. Smelling like a loud concert and masculinity.
“but—“ y/n got cut off by the principals stern voice. “Enough! both of you— after school, 5pm, whatever day.. just tutor him!” the principal huffed, before he beckoned his hand away from us for us to get the hint— to fucking leave.
the two opposites walked out the office with irritable huffs, stolen glances at eachother as they both walked down the same hall, even as he kept his gaze bored and tired. Soon enough, he was watching y/n walk back into class— before calling out their name, handing them a note with his number. “Text me when you get out of class, okay?” martin said, before walking off— leaving y/n a bit confused.
Y/n watched him with a curious glare, not too sharp, but just right..as if analyzing a test subject just with her glasses. But soon enough, the bell rang for the first warning to get to class. And y/n walked back to her class, mind now set on acing this subjects quiz like usual.
while taking the test, y/n couldn’t focus. she tried telling herself to snap out of it! You usually finished early and re did it just to make sure you got the questions right! But she couldn’t even get past number 12. Crazy, right? What was even crazier.. her mind was starting to fill with Martin. With his leg bouncing up and down out of impatience in the office earlier, and how he had bit his lip slightly while looking her up and down.
‘No— don’t do that, y/n! get your head focused!’ — she told herself, pen clicking over and over, before y/n shook her head and finally snapped back into focus.
after class, y/n walked out the door of the classroom with her neat, clean backpack slung over one shoulder as she walked promptly towards her locker, taking out the phone in her pocket to see who had texted her. low and behold, Martin.
- - - - - - - -
(martin) : hey. out of class yet?
(Y/n) : yeah. heading to my locker, why??
- - - - - - -
after y/n finally made it to her locker on the second floor, she opened it and grabbed her stuff for 3rd period, but pausing to take a little break. She had worked hard on her quiz! maybe a little scroll break on twitter could work.
Until, another text from martin. Maybe or maybe not had he been nervous trying to think of a non-creepy, obsessed response for her.
- - - - - - -
(Martin) : when are you gonna tutor me? I’m free today.
IM SO SORRY IVE BEEN UNACTIVE!! OMG. I’m finally back, I think I’ve been in and out of depression. Some days I feel great, and others I feel like I wanna slit my throat in half and wish I could never come back to this shitty world. But here I am, writing a fanfic. I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY pls don’t make me flop
“3 minutes left, students, I want your papers on my desk, then you guys out of my room.” I looked up in a panic. What do you mean, 3 minutes? It feels like I just started this quiz. Subtly, my eyes darted around; maybe I can snatch a few answers. Either everyone was too far away for me to see anything, or they were covering their papers. “A minute left.” I looked around one last time before locking eyes with a boy sitting across the room, his eyes quickly left mine for his paper. I blinked a couple of times. Was he just staring at me?
“Pencils down, students. And since your eyes seemed to stay off your paper the longest, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind bringing your paper up first, Ms. Y/n.” I felt my cheeks burning before standing up, and I could tell everyone’s eyes were fixed on me. My feet dragged me towards the professor's desk, and hesitantly, I set my quiz down. The other students started to follow after and eventually gathered their belongings before leaving.
Only a handful of people were in the room when I sat back down, and my friend Jess tapped me on the shoulder. Jess was the most outgoing girl I knew; short, bright red hair, four piercings in each ear, and a confidence that felt almost reckless.
“Psst, how do you think you did?”
My shoulders slouched, and I let out a small sigh. “Girl, horrible. You heard how Mr. C called me out; he knows how I did. And now everybody else does too.” I rolled my eyes.
“I’m sure you didn’t do that badly, plus Mr. C only acts that way to scare the actual idiots in this class; he’s actually really nice.” A student looked over at Jess with a slight side-eye. “Oh, not you…” she said before looking back at me with a small smirk. I laughed before starting to gather my things.
“Y/n to my desk, please.” I snapped my head towards Jess, and she gave me a reassuring wink and mouthed the words “You got this” before leaving the room. That actually calmed my nerves a little.
I found myself back at Mr. C’s desk. He talked in a lower tone than usual. “I think we both know how you did Y/n. I don’t want to see you failing this class, or anyone, for that matter.”
I swallowed. “I’m sorry. The lessons just… aren’t sticking.” He nodded slowly. “Since it’s the end of the semester, I’ll give you another chance. The only chance.” My heart skipped. “You’re gonna take a tutor, and if you can get above a 75%, I’ll pass you.”
“Really?” I blurted out. “But I don’t even know who to ask.”
“Ask around,” he said. “I’m sure there’s someone who wouldn’t mind. I would offer, but I have too many papers to grade.”
I turned to leave-
“I don’t mind.”
The voice came from behind me. I turned back just in time to see him standing before me. Tall, glasses perched neatly on his nose, dressed simply in a grey hoodie and jeans. His cologne was faint; I only caught it because he was so close. As if noticing the small gap between us, he stepped back, and that’s when I realized this was the same boy I caught looking at me earlier. “I said I don’t mind being your tutor.”
“Oh, thank you,” I let out a nervous laugh. “I’m Y/n.” He extended his hand forward, “Soobin.” Hesitantly, I slid my hand with his. His hands were softer than I’d imagined, and he kept a firm grip. And for a moment, it felt like neither of us was in a hurry to let go. I cleared my throat before removing my hand. “Uh, I’m sorry,” he stammered. “Are you free tonight? For studying.”
I smiled, “Yeah, I should be.” He reached into his bookbag before showing me his phone. “So I could text you…If you don’t mind.” I glanced up at his face before taking his phone; his eyes were on mine, and for a brief moment, I could feel the tips of my ears burning. “Did you have a certain place in mind?” I asked. He lowered his gaze to better meet mine.
“Y/N! I’ve been looking for you~.” A familiar voice nearly echoed through the classroom, and that’s when I saw her. Diamond came walking towards us. She’s a fashion major I met by accident. One day she asked me to model her clothes, and we’ve been friends ever since.
“There’s a piece I made, and I need you now!” Before I could say anything to Soobin, Diamond was dragging me out of the class into the direction of her dorm. I glanced just in time to see Soobin giving a sympathetic smile before he disappeared from my sight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Yes, this looks so good on you!” Diamond had me in a miniskirt she’d handmade from men’s ties, circling me with pins in hand. “So…” she said, dragging the word out. I raised an eyebrow. “Who’s your friend?”
Once again, I felt the tips of my ears burning as I let out a small chuckle. “Not a friend…a tutor,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Oh, really?” She grinned. “ And when are you two gonna… study?”
“You actually snatched me away before he could answer.”
She laughed. “He’s cute. Did you get his number or…?”
“I did, and it’s only to study so I don’t fail Mr. C’s class.”
She stuck a pin in between her teeth. “Mhmmm.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “It’s true!”
Diamond stuck the pin somewhere within the ties. “Right…well,” she got up before turning me to face the mirror. “You’re all done. After my final, I’ll let you keep the skirt,” she smiled and gave me a wink.
I let out a small gasp of excitement. “Thank you!” As if right on cue, I heard a *Ding*.
I know a nice cafe down the street from campus :)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is my first fanfic ever! If there are any critques lmk, let me know. I'm open to criticism. Originally this was for my bsf but she suggested I make a tumblr :)
Person A: You bully me into remembering the material! It works but also fuck you!
Person B: I’m not bullying you, I’m telling you hard truths you weren’t ready to hear yet. And for that, I apologize.
Warning ⚠️: minors dni, sexual scenes, slight bdsm.
A/n : This is the full length smut for two other tutor Aemond drabbles I had written previously. You can read this on its own or you can read those drabbles before reading this. Also, I didn't get to proofread it, so please forgive any mistakes if found.
Link for PART 1 & PART 2.
@letmeloveyouuuu
Hope you like it ! 💜
Deep breaths.
Take in deep steady breaths.
You kept repeating the instructions in your head as you walked over to your room with him tailing behind.
It had been weeks now since Aemond had started tutoring you; and weeks since you've been feeling the burning heat between your legs.
You prayed to God he wouldn't notice the slight tremble in your legs as you pulled your seat back.
You stood there staring at him as he took his own seat. Your eyes were trained on his every little movement. By now you knew by heart how the first few moments would unfold.
You recited the actions in your mind beforehand as he did his little routine.
First he would pull off the black hair tie off his left wrist with his teeth.
Then he would put his long snow hair back in a careless bun. His arms flexing subtly, as he would take the tie off his mouth to secure the bun.
He would crack his knuckles while stretching, making every vein of his strain on his muscles seductively.
And then finally he would bring out a pen from his pocket and recline in the chair, with his legs spread wide and would look at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for you to show your homework.
"Well? You're gonna sit or what?"
The deep voice snapped you out of your daze and you realised you were gawking at him while still standing behind your chair like a fool.
You felt your face heat up as you scrambled to sit down, mentally cussing yourself for behaving like a clutz.
Aemond shifted his gaze back to the books spread across the table and began to look at your work.
Did he not notice?
You didn't know whether to feel relieved or dissapointed.
After weeks of lusting over your tutor in silence you finally decided to make a bold move.
That day you 'forgot' to wear your bra beneath your cute baby pink t-shirt, which sat tight across chest.
But seeing as how Aemond didn't even spare a glance at your body, you surmised he must've not noticed it yet.
You still had hope to catch his attention though.
You leaned forward, pushing your your tits together, to look at your notebook that he was currently checking.
You deliberately shifted close enough to let your breath fan his arm softly as he checked your work.
You looked back at his face, hard with concentration. The deep rumbles as he hummed to each correct answer, made you feel lightheaded. It was a wonder how you hadn't moaned out loud yet.
Dejectedly you spent the next half an hour working on math problems.
Does he really have no interest in me ?
You thought to yourself.
You decided to try again . Your hand slipped purposefully and dropped the pen you were holding, which rolled right between Aemond's legs.
The fates must've been on your side.
While whispering a soft 'oops sorry' you get down on your knees and lean slowly and deliberately between his legs with extra care to push your shorts clad ass in the air. You didn't dare look at him but you fantasized the kind of expression you would want on him.
Letting a slow sigh you stretched forward to retrieve your pen, but a sharp tug on your hair made you stop.
You felt your head being pulled backwards by a firm but gentle grip.
"Hmm" he said with a soft smirk, eye glittering with amusement. "Now that's enough kitten."
You gulped as you were forced to look up at him, feeling like a child caught in mischief.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Aemond felt air getting knocked out of his body when the door opened to reveal you.
His eye immediately fixated on your chest. Your tshirt was sitting tight over your perky breasts, with nothing in between the flimsy cloth and your skin.
He never expected such a meek creature as you to make such a move.
He noticed your deep blush and avoiding gaze and chuckled internally.
Teaching you every time was a torture for him. Not that you were a bad student, infact your performance was more than satisfactory.
What drove him mad was how he seemed to be losing his senses whenever he was around you.
Aemond had always led a disciplined life with a strict moral sense. But when it came to you, the dam of discipline he had created to keep his beast self inside, seemed to be at it's bursting point.
He had managed to hold himself back thinking he would let the dam finally burst upon you, but only after your exams, when he wouldn't tutor you anymore. He thought he had been managing well until that day.
The sight of your half exposed asscheeks swaying infront of him; your tied up hair revealing your neck, the jiggle in your tits every time you leaned forward towards him and the sight of the pebbled nipples through your flimsy tshirt drove him absolutely feral.
He could see you were trying hard to catch his eye. Your little pouts of dissapointment at his lack of response made him want to snatch you up on his lap and kiss the life out of you.
But he wouldn't give in that easily.
Or so he thought.
The moment you crouched between his legs, deliberately swaying your ass right up at him, was when he had had enough. There was no way he could hold back after that stunt.
Before he could even gather his thoughts, his hand shot out to grab your hair and pulled it back.
"Now that's enough kitten."
"Tsk tsk tsk" he tutted playfully, still holding your head in place. " You've been very distracted today have you not?"
You just avoided his gaze in response. You felt fear , or was it thrill rushing through your veins?
You had wanted this exactly, had you not? So then why did your mouth go dry at being caught?
"Words." He said sternly.
"Y-yes."
You didn't know. You didn't know whether you were scared or excited. But all you knew was you wanted his skin on yours.
"Hmm." That was all he said. You expected him to tell you off but he just stared at you with an expression you recognised as intense lust. You followed his eye which left burning trails on your body wherever it gazed upon.
He slowly stood up, your head still held captive by him jerked backwards at the movement.
He tugged at your hair, gesturing you to rise and so you did.
Standing so close to him, made you see him in entirely different light. You could see every detail of his handsome face and you could hear him breath.
Wordlessly he made you turn around to face the desk.
You were confused but you let him take the lead.
"Solve."
Wait what? Wasn't this the part where the racy stuff should begin? What did he mean by solve?
You looked back up at him and blinked in utter confusion. He raised his eyebrow by a millimetre, as if to say " You heard me."
"Excuse me?"
" I'm not going to repeat myself." The threat to not try his patience was evident in his voice. You dared not to challenge him, so you turned to the open textbooks with math problems and begrudgingly started to solve them.
Your pen halted as you felt a masculine hand snake up at your waist and other at the small of your back.
You felt him bending your body slowly with grace. Your breath hitched at his hand grazing your half exposed bottom.
"I didn't tell you stop. Continue."
Was he serious? You wondered to yourself. But deciding to not cross him, you tried hard to focus back on the math problem.
Your hands trembled as you felt him feeling up your ass. A sharp gasp escaped you when you felt him pulling your short up, wedging them between your legs. You felt cold air brush against your exposed skin.
You tried to turn your head back to look at him but before you could, his hand shot up to hold your head in place , facing the notebook.
Your thoughts were just a haze at this point. Your laboured breaths were all that could be heard in your room. You pressed your legs together desperately to subside the throbbing of your cunt.
"Wrong." His deep voice announced before you felt a sharp sound of skin slapping on skin, and moment later the pain washed over you like ice cold water. Your mouth hung open in a silent scream as you tried to gasp for the air that escaped you.
Before you could question him about it, another ringing smack on your ass made you cry out loud this time.
A third one. And then a fourth.
You realised you had solved the question wrong.
By then you couldn't even support yourself up, and laid your head down on the desk.
A single tear escaped you. It hurt but with the depraved moans escaping your mouth on each spank, you realised you were loving every second of it.
He stopped after what seemed like eternity. Your ass was raw and burning hot.
You felt him bend himself over you until his face was inches above yours. He swept your hair aside and whispered in your ear, " You knew you needed that didn't you kitten?".
You could only whimper in response, to which he chuckled.
You felt a bit annoyed at his humor, and snapped, or at least tried to be as snappy as someone who just got spanked could be, " It hurts you know? Could've given me a warning."
"Hmm" he said while taking your earlobe between his teeth to nibble sensually.
His hand creeped between your ass to rest at your pussy. "For someone so pissed, this pussy seems to be awfully wet. It'll be dripping down your thighs any moment."
You moaned loudly as his long fingers slipped beneath the bunched up shorts and slid smoothly over your wet folds.
He sucked your earlobe all while playing with your swollen clit.
" You know what?" He finally let go of your ear. "You can't focus on your studies like that. I can see your pretty little head is full of filth. I'll need to fuck it out of you, right kitten?" He purred in a patronizing tone.
" Mm yes." You barely manage to get it out between your moans.
His fingers stopped dead. " Yes what?"
" Y-yes please Sir." You cried out at the lack of pressure on your needy cunt.
Instead of resuming he withdrew completely, but only to pull down your short and panties at one swift move.
You straighten up from the desk , but he quickly pushed you back down.
You thought maybe this was it, maybe he'll put it in now. But no. You peeped behind you to see he had sunk on his knees, with his face placed directly behind your ass.
The cool sensation of his breath hitting the wetness of your pussy made you shiver.
Aemond sat still for a few seconds, admiring the view laid out in front of him. The plump ass was now raw and red , thanks to him. Proud of his work, he started to run his lips along the angry red handprints across you soft skin.
Your hands reached back in embarrassment, to pull him away from burying his face in your ass. Aemond just held both of your wrists in one of his hands and bit your asscheek harshly, as if to give a warning.
He parted your legs with his knee, to get better access. The bundle of shorts that now looked at your ankles, restrained you from opening up anymore.
Aemond didn't waste a second and started to lap up your dripping juices like a hungry dog. His tongue exploring every crevice of your cunt. Just as you felt him play with your swollen bud, you lost it.
Your eyes rolled back in pleasure, and as for your moans, you couldn't believe you were capable of creating sounds such as those.
You face lay flat against the open notebook, as you lost almost all your consciousness.
You came again and again , until you lost count, and just when you were at the brink of passing out he drew back.
If he hadn't been holding you in place , you would have slumped to the ground in a messy puddle of your own.
He turned you in his arms to face him, and the sight made your your whole body go flush. White liquid was glistening on his lips as well as nose; even his chin was a mess covered in your release.
You reached out to wipe it off, but decided better against it. Getting on your tiptoes, you reached up and licked right across his chin, tasting yourself on him.
Aemond smirked at your boldness, and pushed his head forward to gesture you to continue.
Taking encouragement from that you began licking every last drop of liquid from his face.
Deciding you were taking to long, Aemond hungrily took your lips between his and sucked on them hard. The kiss was urgent and a mess of both your overwhelming passion. It felt like a and aggressive fight but with lips. You fought hard but gradually gave out, letting him take the lead.
While still kissing you get sank back in the chair and forced you on your knees between his legs.
He was crouching to kiss you while holding your head with both hands.
He finally let you go; your lips now swollen red.
Just as he withdrew himself from you, you slumped over his lap.
You head laying right in front of his crotch.
Aemond took a moment to realise he was living his fantasy, and it was way better than he ever imagined.
Your messy hair falling across your half closed eyes, red lips ; t-shirt see through with sweat showing your cute tits, plump thighs smushed together. You were a mess and yet to him you looked divine, especially while between his legs.
He gently swiped his thumb across your bottom lip and tucked stray stands of hair behind your ear. Bending down he pressed a soft lasting kiss with utmost gentleness.
You were surprised by the contrast this kiss had with the last one. You looked up at him with a silent plea, to hold you. And he understood.
Strong arms wrapped around you and lifted you up on his lap with ease.
You laid your head on his shoulders to take in his sweaty but masculine scent.
Aemond slid his hand over his crotch to finally free it from restraint. His hard member pressed into your soft supple ass.
He swiped the tip around your skin a few times , loving the way your flesh engulfed him.
Slowly he slid into your still wet pussy. You groaned loudly at the pain that spread in you lower body. Aemond kissed your neck softly on reassurance.
He drew you head back so that you could look him in the eye, and you did. You felt a surge of emotions from him, which you couldn't really describe, but you let those emotions wash all over you.
Biting your lip you adjusted yourself around him , trying to familiarise the pain.
Aemond raised the sweat soaked t-shirt to rest them over your tits. He latched himself on the right nipple as you started to slowly ground your hips to his.
The pain gave way to pleasure, and soon all you wanted was for him to fully fill you up with himself.
You were plopping up and down on his length, as he hungrily sucked your breast.
You felt yourself growing weak as you neared your release, and your pace slowed down.
As if on cue, Aemond's hands snaked around your waist to bring you impossibly close to him as he started to pound upwards inside of you.
His steady pounding made your moans come out in a rhythm. Your head lolled back to the crook of his neck as he increased his pace to a lightning speed.
You felt a loud ringing in your ears as you felt yourself shake in his arms while cumming all over him and his pants.
Even after that Aemond kept his pace and fucked you with all his might till he successfully chased his own release.
Both of you laid on the same position for the few minutes, heaving heavily.
In your state of half sleep you felt him kiss your forehead as he laid you on your bed.
Before leaving he whispered into your ear, "We'll continue our lesson tomorrow, okay kitten?"
All you could do was let out a soft hmm in response.
Hello Vi! I have a request for you, only if it inspires
Tutor AU! With one or more of your fave suitors tutoring you for your upcoming exams;
Leonardo, Comte, Gilbert, Leon, Silvio and Clavis!
I'd love to see what you come up with ❤️❤️❤️
A/N: I had a very immediate idea for Comte so I went with him for this request!
Comte x Reader, Tutor AU/ Modern AU
WC: ~1.9k
The library looms large as you hurry up the wide, slate-colored steps under a sky exhaling its last breath of evening color. The stars are slowly blinking into existence, determined to shine before they are hidden behind the slow-moving blanket of clouds heading their way. You would pause to enjoy the ephemeral moment when dusk ebbs into night.....
Except Comte is inside, waiting for you.
You’re still not sure how it’s come to this. Comte as your tutor. Your mind travels back several weeks….
Several weeks ago:
One minute you're balancing an armful of books along with your backpack and several bags of uneven groceries that are seriously testing your stubborn decision to do it all in ONE trip. The next, however, everything is falling onto the polished grey tile floor of your building’s lobby, the objects seeming to leap like lemmings out of your arms. As you stand there, staring defeatedly at the scattered mess, lost in the gravity of your poor decision, the elevator doors you were originally trying to reach slide open and like the pearly gates unveiling an angel, Comte de St Germain steps out, in the process of buttoning his elegant camel-colored coat with one hand.
Before you can say a word, he takes in your forlorn expression, the embarrassing pile of your things at your feet, and he is by your side, kneeling, helping you gather up your stray apples and the mini-boxes of cereal you are probably way too old for but love anyway. Your cheeks flush as you stammer a thank you.
You know him more by reputation than actual acquaintance. He lives in the sprawling penthouse at the apex of your building, the crowning glory of the gothic structure, and is usually spoken about in whispers and sighs by the other residents:
“Comte? He’s a museum director downtown.”
“I hear he is a world-famous antique dealer who has made millions.”
“He’s gotta be a tech-millionaire with all that dough.”
“Well I know someone who knows someone who swears he’s a member of the royal family of some tiny European country.”
“I don’t care what he does. He’s got to be loaded to live up there.”
“I hear he’s never been married.”
“My cousin’s best friend’s neighbor's babysitter says he’s divorced from someone super famous.”
“You know what he is? I'll tell ya. Drop dead gorgeous.”
This mysterious man with eyes the color of desert sands is on the ground in his expensive suit and coat, helping you gather your plebeian things and oh, do you want to melt into the floor and disappear.
Until……
He stops, holding one of the books you had been juggling, a surprised expression crossing his classically beautiful face.
“‘The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire’ by Edward Gibbon. Fourth edition.” He seems impressed, curiosity flaring to life in the mesmerizing gold of his eyes.
And you take that lifeline, words stumbling over themselves across the knot of your tied tongue as you explain you are a graduate student, majoring in history, mentally preparing yourself for the avalanche of final exams heading your way.
And how he smiles, his long fingers tracing the embossed lettering along the spine of your book, borrowed from the local library. Entranced by the movement, you can't look away from his hand, reverence hushing his voice as he explains how he works for a museum (Points to the woman in Apartment 15B for getting that one), how he also studied history.
And then one thing leads to another and your rambling about the stress of your exams and crunch for time has evolved into Comte St. Germain, the mysterious Bruce Wayne of your building, offering to tutor you.
The Present:
And now here you stand, the night of your final session, heart prowling, turning circles in your chest like an unruly feline.
Taking a steadying breath, you continue up the steps and head inside, enjoying the sound of your heeled boots across the polished wooden floor. Past towering shelves filled with books you go until you reach the narrow iron staircase in the back, the one that spirals upwards to the second floor. Your feet follow the path they have gotten used to over the last few weeks, through the racks, down a narrow gangway until you reach the small cluster of tables at the western corner of the library, the ones underneath the imposing arched window that allows you a clear view of the darkening sky and the pale orange glow of the streetlamp across the street.
Comte looks up from the book he has been reading and offers you a smile, at once familiar and exotic.
“Ah, there you are, chérie. Ready for our final session?”
Something inside you constricts at the thought that this is the last time you will be here with him like this, tucked away in the surprising intimacy of a large public library, listening to his honeyed voice as you discuss not only history, but also the mundane: what music he listens to when he goes on long drives, his favorite type of wine, the best tea for a rainy Sunday morning. And it isn't just his speaking….Comte listens. He really listens when you talk, when you ask questions, when you give an opinion. He rests his chin on his hand, head tilted ever so slightly, his entire attention focused on you, whether you are explaining the fine points of one of the many Treaties of Paris or doing your best to convince him that dipping your French fries in your milkshake really does make them taste better.
With the glow of remembrance in your smile, you slide into the seat next to him, running your fingers along the soft grain of the elegant wooden chair as you settle in.
“Ready as I'll ever be,” you say, returning his smile while looking at the array of books he has spread out across the table. “Let’s do this.”
“Oui,” he says as his smile curves into a grin. “Tonight we’re focusing on art for your art history final. You already sent me the list of pieces your professor wants you to know for your exam so we can work our way through those.”
You breathe in, trying not to get distracted by the warm, earthy scent of his cologne.
“Professor Leonardo is great but it’s such a long list….” Your shoulders slump at the thought of tackling everything on it. And then you feel Comte’s hand there, on your forearm, warm even through the soft material of your blouse.
“Then let us begin.”
He spends hours, guiding you through Girl with the Pearl Earring, The Birth of Venus, Las Meninas, and Water Lillies. You wander through the great masters like an enamored visitor in an enchanted garden, listening as Comte helps you to remember what you have learned about the paintings as well as unlocking secrets you have never heard before. He leads you through the design of the Colosseum, the Parthenon, Hagia Sofia, Notre Dame, his voice a golden thread that spins you across the architectural wonders. And now, in your final hour of study, he opens the book of sculptures. You visit Rodin’s Thinker, Michelangelo’s David, the Venus de Milo. And finally, you come to the last sculpture on your list: Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss by Antonio Canova.
“Ah…” He pulls the book closer, the photograph of the sculpture filling the page. “This….is a masterpiece of….” He glances over at you, brow lifted as he waits for the answer.
“Neoclassicism…but with strong elements of the Romantic, given the subject matter.”
“Bien joué.” The praise falls from his lips softly, slides over you like melting wax, sends a jolt of heat across your skin. He doesn’t seem to notice as he flattens down the pages with both hands, his bright eyes roaming over the image.
“So you know the story of Cupid and Psyche?”
You try to remember what Professor Leonardo explained in class when he had introduced the sculpture. “She opened a forbidden jar and was put to sleep as punishment?”
Comte nods. “Venus forbid Psyche from opening the jar. It supposedly held Divine Beauty. Psyche could not resist temptation and instead of beauty, she was overcome by the Sleep of Innermost Darkness.” He grins slowly. “Very dramatic. Cupid sees his lover unconscious and pricks her with an arrow, awakening her. This sculpture captures that moment.”
Outside the library window, the streetlamp glows a soft orange. A light rain is now falling, making the light seem as if it is dancing, shimmering against the night.
“Just look at the lines,” he murmurs. He takes his index finger and slowly begins tracing the line of Psyche’s body. It follows the curve of her torso as she stretches up towards Cupid. “Her arms reach back for him.”
You lean in, closer to Comte, watching the path his finger makes along the glossy page. Your heart is suddenly hammering a woodpecker’s song against your breastbone.
“Her hands are in her lover’s hair, the gesture so familiar, so loving.” He traces down the line of Psyche's neck. “And here….she is bent back to him, so exposed and vulnerable, tilting to look up into his face. What do you see there?”
His voice winds itself around you, wrapping you in golden vines of warmth and want. You need a moment to find your own. When you do, it is only capable of expressing itself in a breathless whisper.
“Tenderness. Joy.”
He nods slowly, trailing his finger down Cupid’s strong arm. “And what do you see in him?”
Your thoughts are bright butterflies, sparks that fly up into the haze of your mind and explode in little pinpricks of light. Blinking, trying to control the overwhelming wave of attraction that threatens to pull you under, you reach out and touch the same page, your fingers scant centimeters from his.
“He’s…..adoring. The way he holds her head, his fingers touching her face. And he’s smiling at her, affectionately. Openly.” Your gaze drops down to where Comte’s finger points to Cupid’s left arm. You clear your throat and continue. “He covers her breasts with his arm, shielding her from the viewer, and yet that one hand holds her in a way that’s….it’s so intimate. It feels somehow more intimate than if we would see her bare.” Your voice is a whisper, soft and woven through with delicate wisps of yearning. “He touches her as if he’s done it a hundred times and still revels in it…..” You trail off, pressing your lips together, unable to go on.
Comte’s fingers brush against yours and you turn your head, startled to find that your faces are so very close. Outside the rain gently rolls down the massive glass window. The streetlamp flickers. Comte’s gaze is a steady golden sun.
“He adores her,” he murmurs, his voice rolling through you. You feel his fingers move, covering yours on the page.
“She marvels at him,” you answer quietly, your fingers curling around his in response.
He leans down ever so slightly, his mouth so close you can feel the warmth of his words on your lips. “He dreams of her……”
“.....and he is what makes her waking sublime…” The words are hardly more than the breaths between heartbeats.
His mouth brushes faintly against yours, the softest touch, a silken feather, a velvet caress.
“....He wants nothing more…..” His hand tightens around yours, his chest rising and falling with the contained power of his emotion. “...than to kiss her….”
“He should,” you say, soft as a nightingale welcoming a summer evening. "He should kiss her."
And he does, pressing his lips against yours as the wave that has been looming ever closer pours down upon you both. One hand rises, gripping the nape of your neck with tender ardor. You plunge your free hand into the soft wilderness of his tawny hair, opening your mouth to taste him.
Your other hand? It is still tightly holding onto his, a promise you won’t let go.
An echo of Cupid and his beloved Psyche.
Pysche Revived by Cupid's Kiss- Antonio Canova, 1793
