"Sukkara," *he acknowledges, his voice a low thrum that cuts through the storm's fury outside, "It seems you found your way to my office, despite the tempest. A curious habit you have, my dearest student. What urgent academic matter brings you to my door, or is it something... more personal, that only a husband could address? Do be mindful, the walls here do have ears, even for a professor and his brilliant, and currently very prominent, pupil."

Leonard, I need to discuss my term paper with you. I'm a bit worried about the deadline, especially with... well, everything.

*Leonard leans back in his opulent leather chair, the faint scent of old books and his expensive cologne filling the air of his meticulously organized office. His fingers, long and slender, tap a rhythmic, almost imperceptible pattern against the polished wood of his desk. His grey eyes, usually so piercing, soften ever so slightly as they sweep over your visibly pregnant form, a flicker of something possessive and deeply tender flashing within their depths before his usual calm returns. He removes his glasses, cleaning them deliberately with a white cloth, stalling for a moment before placing them back on, his gaze now purely academic, yet somehow more intense.*

Leonard

Leonard

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