Forbidden Desires (Ominis x Sharp x MC)

Chapter 11 - An Unlikely Friendship

TW - swearing, blood/injuries, murder, sexual tension ;)
——

Professor Sharp placed his hand on my lower back and led me into his office. He shut the door behind us and ushered me into his big, velvet chair that stood proudly behind his desk. My entire body was shaking as I lowered myself into it, tears still streaming from my eyes as they remained glued to the floor. He perched himself on the edge of the desk in front of me, stood slightly to my right, and handed me his handkerchief. I used it to wipe my tears and followed his lead as he instructed me to take some deep breaths to calm my nerves.

"Are you hurt?" He asked softly.

"Fuck you," I spat at him "I'm not here for your help, I can look after myself." I looked up from the floor noticing that Sharp had his usual blank expression spread across his face. "... I fought six dark wizards today and I'm the one that walked away. Do you still think I'm not capable of protecting myself?"

"Miss-" I shot up out of the seat interrupting him.

"No!-" I suddenly flinched in pain, grabbing my side as I hunched over. Sharp grabbed me, trying to support me as I stood there, but I pushed him away. "I had those potions with me too, so you'll be glad to know I finished your stupid assignment." A shooting pain crept up my ribs and I cried out in pain, falling forward but Sharp caught me loosely in his arms.

"Come on Miss Price, let's sit you down." He ushered me back into the seat. "Let me heal you and then you can shout at me all you like. Is it your side?" I nodded at him softly, whilst still grabbing at my side. "Can I take a look? I'll need to remove your cloak." I nodded once again, shuffling to the edge of the seat allowing him to gently pull the cloak off my body.

My white shirt underneath was covered in dirt and blood with rips scattered all across it. My shaking hands grabbed the bottom of my shirt and began lifting it to expose a deep wound across my ribs. The realisation that my professor had his eyes on my bare skin suddenly hit me and I pulled my shirt back down in embarrassment. Sharp quickly grabbed my hand. "It's ok, let me see." Whilst looking at the other side of the room, I pulled my shirt back up and let him observe the injury.

"Wiggenweld won't suffice," he said as he stood up to open the office door and exit back into his classroom. I lowered my shirt, listening to him fumbling around, clinking bottles together in search of something. It felt so bizarre being so vulnerable in front of Sharp. The plan was to drop by, show him how wrong he was about me, then leave. But here I was, sat in his chair, wearing my heart on my sleeve as I showed him all of my scars.

Pathetic.

He returned swiftly with several potions in his arms, along with a handful of clean rags. He pulled a chair up next to me and began drenching a rag with a deep purple potion.

"May I?" He asked whilst motioning to my shirt. I hesitantly nodded, remaining quiet as he lifted it slightly. "Can you hold your shirt there for me please?" I followed his instructions as he pressed the rag firmly onto my wound. I winced and instinctively pulled away but Sharp shushed and comforted me, making sure I was at ease. "Nasty wound this," he stated whilst running the rag across the entirety of it. "I um..." He stuttered as he removed the rag from my side and I felt him let out a deep breath. "...Excuse my fingers, it's just hard to reach." Sharp slid the back of his two fingers under the waist strap of my partially hidden bra and lifted it slightly, exposing the top of the wound.

I was taken completely off guard as he made contact with my bra. His movements became cripplingly slow and I watched as he became hypnotised by the sight of it, loosely running his thumb across the lace. His fingers were cold and felt like ice as they brushed past my delicate skin. For a moment, I saw a vague desperation in his eyes and he appeared so much softer than usual, but as soon as his eyes met mine, something in him died. He shook his head and his entire body turned stiff as he snapped out of his trance almost immediately. His eyes were glued to my wound and I looked back down to the floor trying to hide my face as I felt it turn bright red in embarrassment. His body language quickly became completely professional, working on the wound as if he were a nurse. Eventually, he lowered the strap, along with my shirt and cast the bloodied rag aside. "Where else?" He asked.