You're completely captivated, unable to tear your eyes away from him, especially when he turns to gracefully write on the wide blackboard at the front of the room.
You watch, mesmerised by the beautifully swirled writing that flows from the chalk between his fingers, your eyes following the movement down to the corded muscles of his forearm. The black silk shirt he's wearing pulls taut around his strong shoulders and tucks into the waistband of his trousers. And as your eyes drift lower, they snag on the tight curve of his arse, outlined inside the fabric.
Holy shit, he's so hot. Your hand trembles as you note down the writing on the board. God, I'm being so inappropriate...this is my first lecture, and I'm already panting over the Professor.
You look up again, putting the pen to your lip. How could I not, though? The guy is gorgeous...and way younger than I expected a Professor to be.
When he turns to the students again, he seems to command the room with an aura of charismatic mystery. His blue eyes, sharp and knowing, sweep across the eager faces. When they land on you, they become piercing, pinning you to your seat. It's almost as if he's millimetres in front of you, his fingers gently sliding around your throat.
"So, my dear students," Loki says softly, "let us next discuss the use of power now. The cleverest rulers are said to rule without a crown and lead without a sceptre. Do you think this to be true?"
When students put their hands up to answer, the series of interactions pass you in a blur. You stare at the Professor's face, the whisper of a smile on his lips, and your mind drifts, imagining what those lips would feel like grazing your skin.
Oh, my God...I need to get a grip!
Another student raises his hand. "Professor Laufeyson? Do you think power always corrupts? Or can it be wielded for good?"
Loki smiles knowingly and perches on his desk. "Ah, the eternal question. Power is a tool. Like fire, let's say. Fire can warm a house, or it can burn it down. Corruption lies not in the power itself but in the hands that wield it. And so, a benevolent King can bring prosperity, just as a tyrant can bring ruin."
A question bubbles to your throat, and you raise your hand, unable to stop yourself. "But how do we make sure power is used properly? Is there a way to stop people from misusing it?"
When Loki's eyes meet yours, appraising you carefully, something in his heart pangs. "An excellent question. Safeguarding it lies with wisdom and perspective. Without these, power is but a wild beast."
Loki steps towards you, and a tingling sensation creeps up your neck. Your breath catches, and you squirm uneasily as you sit back in your seat.
"Allow me to share a story with you," Loki says, holding out his arms. "The story of a God, who yearned for power – for recognition. His name was whispered in both reverence and fear across the realms. This God was raised into a legacy of strength and valour but continued to stand in the shadow of his brother – a hero adored by all. The God of our story possessed a different type of strength – the power of cunning and intelligence. He believed that acquiring power was his path to greatness, so he sought it in the hidden corners of the world – in ancient spells and forbidden knowledge. But with each new piece of power he gained, a piece of his soul dimmed."
You lean forward in your seat, hanging on his every word – much like everyone else in the room. With wide eyes, you forget to raise your hand, asking, "What happened to him?"
Loki smiles ruefully. "He found power, indeed. But at great cost. He learned that power without purpose only leads to a lonely existence filled with shadows and regret. It wasn't until he lost everything he held dear that he understood the true nature of power."
When his expression becomes introspective, his gaze distant, you swallow tightly - as if watching a private moment unfold before your eyes.
"Power lies not in dominion or fear," Loki says, "but in understanding oneself and others. The God learned that the strongest influence a person can wield is the power to change...to adapt...to grow. And in the end, he sought to find a new purpose – not in thrones, but in life...in family."
Loki's faraway look breaks suddenly, and he regathers himself, smiling widely. "And that, my dear students, is the essence of true power – the ability to transform oneself, to learn from mistakes and to emerge wiser."
You release the breath you'd been holding, your heart hammering a mad rhythm against your ribs as he turns back to the board.
"We'll pick this up again tomorrow," he says.
~
You return to your dormitory only to discover a party in full swing. It's not that late, about 8 pm, but it seems the pre-drinks have been going on for a while. In the kitchen, the noisy boys are now accompanied by about ten noisy girls. They spill out into the hallway, bottles of drinks in their hands. Some are already making out, oblivious to anyone else walking past.
How do these people ever get anything done? Did they come to university just to party? A thundering chorus of laughter can be heard through your bedroom wall when you walk inside, making you grimace. How am I going to finish any of the readings for tomorrow?
Some band is playing on campus at 11 pm, you remember. That's probably what they're killing time for. But even if they are, you have another 3 hours of this. It's not conducive to a good study session.
I need to get out of here.
After tying your hair into a messy bun on top of your head, you quickly shower and get dressed again, selecting a black mini skirt, an oversized maroon jumper, black thigh-high woollen socks and ankle boots. Your books are already in your bag, so you sling your phone alongside them and some snacks that should last the night.
The only place worth braving this miserable rainy weather is Maughan Library – specifically, the round reading room, a grand dodecagonal structure spread over three floors, with mezzanines and a stunning domed roof. The seats, in the centre of the lower floor, offer the perfect spot to sit. You intend to take your books and your snacks and find a comfy seat with a view of the stars above.
Because that band's playing tonight, the library should be quiet, too. Excellent! This was such a good idea.
It takes ten minutes to weave through the sheer volume of people on London's busy streets before you find yourself stepping into the library. And you were right. It is empty. The reading room, too.
Selecting a chair directly in the centre, you look up at the domed roof—marvelling at the stars pressed into the blanket of night above.
Maybe this wasn't such a great idea. I will be so distracted knowing that view is just above my head.
And you need to have your wits about you if you're going to get through this Nietzsche reading.
Then, movement to your left catches your attention. And your heart plummets into your stomach as Professor Laufeyson walks by, heading to a comfy chair by the opposite wall. What the hell is he doing here? It's Monday night. Shouldn't he be back home, wherever he lives?
With that thought, your mind drags you shamelessly towards what that might look like. Him walking to his front door, turning the lock, stepping inside and hanging his coat up. All silly, effortlessly mundane things. But imagining him doing them makes them so fucking hot you can barely contain yourself.
God, I have a problem. I shouldn't find my teacher this attractive. It's his fault. He has no business being so damn cute and teaching young women.
Young, inexperienced women, your mind hisses at you. You're 25. You need to have sex with someone, finally. Why can't it be him?
Because he's my Professor, you hiss back. I am not losing my virginity to my teacher.
But even that thought lacks conviction.
~
Loki sits down, book in hand, grateful for the blissful silence. The library is particularly quiet tonight – the reading room empty. It's perfect for him to relax, to while the hours away with a good book. A book about him. Well, a book about Norse Gods. One, of which, I am.
Undoing the next button on his shirt, Loki sits back in his seat and clears his throat gently. And as he picks up where he left off, his expression slowly shifts into a scowl. The book was written by a well-regarded Midgardian historian apparently. But the account of his rivalry with Thor is depicted as nothing more than a petty squabble that siblings might have.
"The jealous brother," Loki scoffs bitterly to himself. "As if my every action is a mere response to Thor's brilliance."
People will only ever see what they want to see. And with Loki and his brother, that'll always be surface-level. Where's the mention of the times I stood alongside Thor? Of the battles we fought together? Why don't people question why I have issues with him? Why automatically assume I'm in the one in the wrong?
Gritting his teeth, Loki abruptly shuts the book, its echo resounding through the quiet expanse of the library. His heart hammers, angrily pumping blood around his body, and when he stands up, a storm brews in his eyes. How dare these Midgardians paint me to be the fool? They've never spoken one word to my idiotic brother!
As he lifts his gaze, it lands unexpectedly on a pair of eyes watching him from across the room. It's the girl from my philosophy class, the pretty one who sat in the front row.
For a moment, Loki is taken aback. The intensity of his emotions shifts, his annoyance giving way to a different kind of energy – one that seems to crackle with unspoken tension. Even his breathing feels amplified all of a sudden. You hold his gaze, your expression a blend of fear and intrigue...wondering what he will say...wondering what he'll do.
"Late hours for a student to be delving into books, wouldn't you say?" Loki's voice is smooth and composed, but you pick up the subtle invitation.
You lean your arm against the back of your chair, a tentative smile on your lips. "I could say the same for a Professor."
Loki allows a small, genuine smile to surface, and you find yourself mirroring him, the air suddenly thick with electricity.
"Indeed," Loki replies, stepping around the chair to slowly approach you. "The pursuit of knowledge often leads us down unexpected paths at unusual hours." He watches you raise an eyebrow, blood rushing to his extremities when you're forced to tilt your head up to look at him. She's beautiful. This close, I can see how beautiful she is. Unblemished. Slightly shy.
The dim light of the library casts soft shadows over your face, and Loki is suddenly enthralled by the vulnerability reflected in your eyes. Gods, her mouth is a treat...I wonder how it would–
"I find the quiet of the library at night... liberating," you interrupt his thoughts, trying desperately not to shake. "There's a certain magic to it...as if knowledge comes alive in the darkness."
Something aches in Loki's chest, longing to reach out and press his thumb to that full bottom lip. Her voice pulls at something deep inside me...something I've been trying to keep hidden.
"The night does have a way of peeling back the veil of monotony, revealing something much more compelling."
He's so close now, you can practically taste the notes of his expensive cologne. You gaze up at his beautiful face, and everything in your lower body liquifies. Fuck, I wonder what his skin tastes like...
"You are quite different from the others, aren't you?" Loki goes on, inwardly groaning when a blush tints your cheeks. Around you both, the library is still, silently holding its breath. And suddenly, all lines, once clear and defined, are blurring, creating something else entirely – something charged with possibilities.
"At times," you admit. "I would rather be here than out there, doing... well... doing what students usually do."
Loki cocks his head, his expression inquisitive. "What is it that students usually do?"
"Get drunk and fuck," you blurt out. Holy shit, did I just say that to a teacher? Your cheeks burn a furious red, and you open and close your mouth in horror. "Um..."
Loki chuckles, his eyes dancing with amusement. He gestures to the library. "And so, you find this sort of thing more to liking then?"
Oh, God! He's playing with me. He must think I'm a complete loser. I might as well have "Virgin" tattooed on my forehead.
"I..." you stutter, trying to figure out something intellectual to say – either that or something relatively interesting. You come up empty-handed.
"It's not a trick question, darling," he says gently. "Avoiding heartbreak is a wise pursuit."
Heartbreak? Is he talking about himself?
You get to your feet, wondering how quickly you could pack your bag and sprint out of here.
"I prefer books to people," you say quietly. "There is...less disappointment."
Loki's face softens, and a jolt of something warm weaves its way into your chest. "Books offer worlds where promises are kept and endings can be controlled. People, on the other hand, are...unpredictable. But therein lies their charm, I suppose."
"Is that why you're here?" you ask gently. "Are you avoiding the chaos too?"
Loki's expression hardens slightly as he recalls what awaits him at home. He sighs. "You could say that."
Suddenly, it's as if Loki remembers who he is and who the hell he's talking to. The boundaries he's crossing flirting with you. I'm her Professor...she's my student...what in the nine realms am I doing? She's probably the same age as –
"Professor Laufeyson?" you repeat, frowning. "Are you okay?"
Loki shakes himself mentally and takes a step backwards. "Yes, apologies. Yes, I am fine. I just realised I must be getting home."
Something inside you cracks from the whiplash – his sudden change in demeanour. What just happened? Did I say something wrong? Fuck...
Quickly gathering his things, Loki casts you a tight smile before heading for the exit. But just before he leaves, he stops and turns back to you, his heart overriding his head. "What is your name?" he asks, just as you reopen the book you were reading.
You look up, holding his gaze, hope blooming inside your chest. "My name's Y/N," you answer softly.
"Y/N." He smiles. "Lovely name. I shall see you tomorrow in class, Y/N."
And with that, he's gone, taking a shard of you with him.