You're struggling with your homework from the Calculus class you're taking at Macabria University. Raven, who loves math, takes it upon himself to tutor you.
some spoilers for chapter 30+
content warnings: kissing, sexual tension
rating: teen and up
word count: 1,540
ao3
For all the monsters you’ve slain and challenges you’ve overcome, you never considered that calculus might be your downfall.
It’s not that you’re bad at math—really, it’s not. You’re perfectly capable of understanding the concepts and performing the problems given to you. It’s just that there’s a learning curve, and sometimes the equations and theories seem like Greek to you.
“That’s because it is Greek,” Raven drawls. “Theta, sigma, alpha—and onward. You know that.”
“Obviously,” you reply, feeling a bit flushed as the admonishment. Taking classes at the local Macabrian university seemed like a great idea until you realized you have to manage your studies alongside the rest of the kingdom. It doesn’t matter that you’re Dracula’s designated heir; no legitimate professor will give you a slide on slipping grades, even if you did have to protect the town from an onslaught of rebel werewolves.
At least your Calculus II professor is understanding enough, and gives you extensions on the homework should there be a true emergency. That doesn’t excuse you completely, however, and so now you’re forced to spend the whole night at your desk catching up to meet the new deadline.
Thankfully, Raven is here to help. He caught you earlier in the library, peering over your shoulder to notice you struggling with integration by parts. At first he snarked at you, but then took a serious tone as he realized the severity of the situation. As much as he enjoys teasing and lording over you, he loves math even more—at wouldn’t shirk an opportunity to show off his skills to you, even if it does mean helping you pass your class.
You look down at your assignment. Only five more questions to go on this one, and then you’re moving on to trigonometric substitution. But that’s getting ahead of yourself—you’re still trying to understand how to integrate multiplied by sin(x).
“Look, it’s simple,” he tries to explain. “The function only seems like you’ll endlessly integrate. There’s a trick to it. I’ll show you.”
You nod, and watch as he scribes on a piece of paper. You’ve been a little distracted by him; his lithe hands, the angular knuckles and long fingers. The sheen of his pale skin under your lamplight. How his eyelashes flutter when he looks down to concentrate on a question. You wonder how those hands might feel entwined in your own, or how they might trail down your body… the line of thought leaves you somewhat heated, and you force yourself to focus on what he’s doing.
You watch him integrate the function once, but it leads to another integral.
“Hang on,” you say.
He looks up expectantly.
“I never remember what order to put the U, V, dV, and dU in,” you admit, “what is it again?”
Raven gives you an expression that’s a mixture of exasperation and barely concealed smugness. For a tutor, he’s exceedingly arrogant, and it would annoy you if he didn’t proceed to carefully explain what you’re confused by every time.
“Think of it like this,” he tells you. “UV light, minus voodoo. U times V, then subtract the integral V du. That’s how I remembered it.”
“UV light, minus voodoo,” you repeat. “I can remember that.”
“You’d better. Don’t you have an examination this week?”
“Yeah,” you sigh. “I’m not sure how I’ll do.”
His gaze sharpens on you, and he puts his pen down. He lifts his hand up to your chin, and turns your head to look straight at him. “You’ll do excellently,” he says confidently, “you have my help.”
You hold his gaze. “Are you expecting to take the credit if I pass?”
He laughs. “Considering that you’d never pass without me, I absolutely will.”
You pull back. “Never pass?” you say in mock outrage. “You have so little faith in me?”
“Fine,” he amends, “perhaps you’d barely pass.”
You roll your eyes. His fingers are still on your chin, and after a moment, his hand moves forward to caress your jaw. It’s an intimate gesture, and sends a spark of warmth through your body.
You want to lean into the feeling, but responsibility drags you back to the paper in front of you. Reluctantly, you pull out of his grasp and recenter your focus on your homework.
If he looks disappointed, you don’t see it; your eyes are back on the problem. “You can continue your explanation.”
He’s quiet for a moment, then resumes as if nothing happened. “As I was saying, you integrate twice with integration by parts. First the whole function, then only the term with an integral sign. It produces two terms that don’t need to be integrated, and one integral matching the other side of the equation. Do you see?”
You nod.
“What do you think happens next?” he quizzes you.
Looking at the equation, you consider the possibilities. “Do you add the integral of e to the x times sin of x to the other side? That would give you two of them on the left…”
He looks pleasantly surprised. “That’s it—maybe there’s more hope for you than I thought. What then?”
You think about it. “If you divide by two, is the right side of the equation the final answer?”
He grins. “Well, look at that. You got it right. It seems you have been paying attention.”
You smile in return, gratified that you’re finally getting it. “I always pay attention to you,” you confess.
His eyes gleam in the dim light of your room. “Do you, now?”
Raven’s expression has gone from pleased to knowing. There’s a hungry glint in his eyes, and the look sends a shiver through you. You turn towards him, setting your assignments aside for now.
“Let’s take a break,” you suggest. “We’ve been working for hours.”
“Fine by me,” he says, “anything in mind?”
“Well,” you say, “I was thinking… I should thank you, somehow.”
He leans forwards, intrigued. Your knees knock together with his, and you keep them there. The contact is activating—drawing you closer. You find yourself near his face, and your gaze drifts to his lips. He does the same, lidded eyes glancing up and down before meeting your own.
Tension rises between you, taut like a bowstring. You observed him all evening, unable to deny the magnetism that draws you toward him. You know you’re not alone in the feeling; he’s been looking back at you. It’s why you make the final move, pressing forward to catch his lips in a sweet kiss.
It’s not the first, or the second; but it is the only time you’ve been completely alone together. True intimacy is difficult when you’re with a group, especially when Alexis was right there, watching you give into desire for somebody else. There’s a shred of guilt at the thought, but you push it away. They know you’ve never been one for exclusivity. Still, you know it hurt them when Raven dragged you in for a hard, claiming kiss in front of everyone; and again, when Alexis chose to appease Percy while you sat off to the side, indulging Raven.
You can’t help it. He’s a burning flame, and you’re the moth, unable to resist his dangerous light. You think you can taste the fire on his lips, as heat washes through you. The kiss starts slow, but quickly evolves into something more passionate. His touch taps open a dark want in you, riveting your senses like no one else can.
It’s not like with Alexis, who’s been your steadiest and most loyal companion for years. Their love is leisurely and unchallenging; you’re pretty sure they scored 99% vanilla on the BDSM test, but they hid the results from you, so you’re only speculating.
Raven is wild; undulating rapids, the roaring whirlpool sucking you into dark, hidden depths. You crave that excitement, the all-consuming blaze. It’s a terrible want that only satiates when his lips press against yours, and you hate to admit it, but you’ve been pining in the weeks since your last encounter like this.
For minutes, you just kiss. You find yourself in his lap, thighs around his. Your fingers tangle in his hair, and his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against his body. Teeth clash together and he sucks on your tongue, and you breathe heavily between kisses. You wish the heady feeling you’re overcome with would never end, but alas: the unfinished homework sitting on your desk calls out your name.
Regretfully, you break away. He looks dazed, pupils blown in his cobalt blue eyes; hair mussed, lips swollen from kissing—and some biting. Self-satisfied at his unkempt appearance, you smirk. He raises an eyebrow.
“Well,” he says, a little breathlessly, “that was unexpected.”
“Oh, come on,” you croon, “you didn’t think I was going to send you away without a reward?”
He smirks back. “The night’s still young, Lord Protector, and you’ve quite a bit more to do. Would I be right in assuming you’ll have a grander thank you later for me?”
You laugh lowly. “Mmm… maybe if you help me pass my exam.”
He laughs back. “Oh, trust me. You’re going to ace it.”
