The Birds & The Bees | S.R.

Ch. 10 | The Sin

"Wait, Professor!" she huffed, digging her heels into the floor and turning to me with her best pleading look to date. She didn't stop there, either. My bunny took a firm step forward, blocking my exit completely and demanding my full attention as she tried to be bold.

"A-Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Am I?"

I'd meant the intonation to illustrate just how sarcastic I was being, but the poor thing seemed to take the challenge to heart. Her spirits fell at the same rate her hands raised to her chest and wound together. She freed two fingers and began patting them together as she murmured, "A promise, perhaps?"

"Was it a promise?" I asked, and she heard the affection in my voice that time.

Her eyes lit back up like the sunrise over dewy fields, and I finally understood why the songbird sings.

"It was," she chirped.

When I opened my arms to her, she had no hesitation. She practically leapt between them and threw her own around me before I could even set down the papers I was holding. I took my time enjoying the koala-esque grip of the girl, only setting down the papers on the desk because they'd gotten in her way.

I laughed as she hummed and nuzzled her face against my shirt. There was no other way that I knew to express the joy bubbling through my chest. I had no physical nor verbal language that could correctly capture that feeling.

It may be a crude and stereotypical comparison, to liken myself to a computer — but I felt the current between us like lightning. I felt myself become more alive the longer she held me, with hands clutching and releasing fabric like each attempt might bring me closer.

I rested my head against hers, breathing in the distinct smell of soap and perfume. I, too, pressed harder against her, hoping that she could imprint on me in more ways than one. I thought of how later that day, the breeze might blow me a kiss that smelled like her on my skin.

That was the moment I realized that, in all of her enthusiasm, I'd yet to even return the hug. My hands were more hesitant than hers, but they made their way around her, nonetheless. I treated her gently, because I'd meant it when I said that was what she deserved.

Gentle, but firm in my desire to be near to her. To share this space, this breath, this body in a way I'd rarely experienced with anyone else.

She sighed, the warmth tickling my skin through the fabric, and I similarly felt her eyelids flutter shut as she, too, found peace in the embrace.

I couldn't be sure how long we stayed like that, with hands and hearts full of one another, but I was the one to break the silence. As we barely started to sway under the weight of everything, I whispered the only thought I could think.

"How could I ever forget you?"

When she answered, there was a sadness in her voice that I hadn't expected.

"Professor?" she called.

"Hm?"

Without moving or allowing me any hint of what emotions were undoubtedly displayed in her eyes, she vaguely stated, "I missed you."

I knew what she'd meant, but the reminder brought pain where I wanted there to be only happiness. So, I cautiously clucked my tongue before answering, "Silly Bunny, I haven't gone anywhere."

That might've been a stretch of the truth for what she was referring to, but it'd certainly been true in the moment. If anything, I'd only held her closer. I was surprised that we were both still capable of breathing, but I credited that to our body's natural understanding of how to move as one. As her lungs emptied, mine filled, creating the illusion of the two-headed monster often referred to as lovers.