The morning light filtered in, soft and gentle, but impossible to ignore. It slipped through the blinds, casting pale streaks across the couch, the wine glass, the scattered clothes, and the two still tangled in the aftermath of the previous night.
Joren stirred first.
His body was stiff, half-sunken into the cushions, and his arm was pinned beneath something warm—Professor Hart, who was awake, still curled against him, her cheek resting just above his chest. Her breath was slow. Her skin was warm. Her fingers were tracing lazy shapes on his chest, like she hadn't quite left the night behind.
He didn't move. Not yet.
There was something surreal about the quiet. No background noise. No notifications. No signs of anyone else. Just her. Just them. It almost felt... romantic (if you could call it that).
"Morning," he said softly.
She hummed, eyes still closed.
"Mmm. Morning."
"You slept well?"
"Eventually."
She shifted slightly, her voice still wrapped in sleep.
"You were very... thorough."
Joren smirked.
"I get that a lot."
(Actually, he didn't. He was just trying not to look like a rookie.)
She opened one eye, just barely.
"Don't get cocky."
"My work speaks for itself."
She chuckled, then sighed, her fingers resuming their slow tracing.
"You know... I didn't plan for last night."
"You didn't?"
Joren asked, his face etched with confusion.
"I mean..."
She paused, searching for the words.
"I did it because you wanted it, and so you wouldn't spill my, umm... secret."
Her face flushed as she said "secret."
"But it was... very nice."
Joren blinked, surprised by the softness in her voice.
"You knew your way," she added, almost like an afterthought.
"I didn't expect that."
"You didn't expect me to know what I was doing?"
"You don't strike me as someone with a lot of experience. I thought you wanted this so you could lose your virginity."
Joren blinked.
"Honestly? I just thought you were insanely hot. And yeah, I wanted to sleep with you. That's kind of where my brain stopped."
She frowned.
"I have emotions, you know. I don't like being treated like a checkbox."
Joren nodded.
"I didn't mean it like that."
"Still came off that way."
"Sorry."
She didn't reply, but her fingers resumed tracing slow circles on his chest. Her expression had shifted to a dazed one.
"You're forgiven."
Her words landed heavier than he thought they would.
She shifted again, adjusting her position on top of him—and that's when it hit him.
The movement. The pressure. The sudden reminder.
He was still inside her.
His breath caught, and hers did too. Her body tensed for a moment, then softened again, her fingers still moving in slow circles.
Last night came rushing back in vivid detail. Her moans. Her grip. Her words.
"Harder... fuck me harder..."
Joren swallowed.
"Last night was... memorable," he said.
She nodded slowly, still dazed from sleep and the lingering bliss.
"Mmm. It was."
"You told me to cum."
"I did."
"I didn't use anything."
She didn't respond.
"You told me to cum. I couldn't hold back."
Still no reply.
"It was good, though. You had pills, right?"
She blinked, slowly lifting her head.
"What pills?"
"You didn't use pills?" Joren asked, eyes widening.
Professor Hart blinked slowly, her cheek still pressed against his chest.
"Mmm?"
"You didn't use anything? No pills, no protection?"
She hummed softly.
"I used you. You used me. That should be enough."
Joren frowned.
"That's not how biology works."
She giggled—the first time Joren had ever seen her giggle—then sighed, her fingers lazily tracing circles on his skin.
"You worry too much. Just enjoy the moment."
"No, it's you who should be worried."
"And why's that?" she asked, still dazed.
"Because I came inside you. And you weren't on anything."
She didn't reply. Her eyes fluttered closed again, lips parted in a blissful haze.
Then—like a switch flipping—her body tensed.
"Wait."
She lifted her head, eyes suddenly wide.
"Wait. Wait. I didn't use anything."
Joren raised an eyebrow.
"That's what I said."
She sat up slightly, hair falling over her face, panic creeping into her voice.
"I could actually get pregnant."
Joren blinked.
"Yeah. That's what I meant."
She stared at him, stunned.
"Why didn't you say it like that?"
"I did. You were busy humming."
She sat up slowly, her hair falling over her face like a curtain she didn't bother to fix. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pushed them through it, trying to think, trying to breathe.
"This is bad."
Her voice was quiet, but clipped. Controlled panic.
Joren watched her, unsure whether to speak or stay still.
"It's not great."
She looked at him, eyes sharp but unfocused.
"I'm a professor. You're a student. I can't be pregnant. That's not just messy—it's career suicide."
"I mean... it's not guaranteed."
"Don't."
She cut him off, her tone rising.
"Don't try to soften it. You came inside me. I wasn't on anything. What part of that sounds like a maybe?"
Joren shifted slightly.
"Okay. You're right. Maybe I was downplaying it."
She exhaled, shaky now.
"This could ruin everything. My job. My reputation. My life."
"I know."
She stared at him, then collapsed back onto his chest—not in surrender, but in a desperate attempt to ground herself.
"We really need to talk about this."
"We are talking."
"No. I mean properly. When I'm not still... compromised."
Joren smirked faintly, trying to lighten the mood.
"You mean when you're not still impaled?"
She groaned, this time with genuine frustration.
"God, Joren. Shut up."
She shifted her weight, bracing her hands on his chest as she slowly lifted herself off his lap. As she rose, his length slid out of her with a quiet, slick parting that made them both flinch slightly.
She sat back on the couch next to him, burying her face in her hands. Her breath was shaky, her thoughts clearly racing.
Joren didn't speak. He just sat beside her, close but not touching, letting the silence do what words couldn't.