Don't Stand so Close to Me

You were screwed, you decided as you scurried out of the classroom with cheeks burning. Completely, undeniably screwed.

A foreign language was required to complete the requirements of your degree, and where your best friend Babs had chosen Spanish, you had chosen French. You thought it would be fun, challenging even, to take the less popular language course. You never imagined you'd find yourself so...so frustrated.

And not by the homework either...

According to other students of the class, the old professor had retired after last semester, so this was Mr. Le Pew's first semester as a professor. And was he ever leaving an impression. Several girls, not just you, were left borderline squirming in their seats when they found themselves under the professor's attention.

The difference? You didn't want it.

Well, okay, you wanted it. Wanted him. You knew better though. He was your teacher, you were his student, and that was one line that definitely should not be crossed. So, you watched as other girls put on tighter, more revealing clothes and giggled and fawned for his attention. You tried to keep your nose in your book to the best of your ability and tried not to stare, tried not to shiver when your fingers brushed when he handed back papers, and tried to ignore the way your insides melted when he smiled.

"You're thinking about him again," Babs sang as she came up alongside you.

"Shut up, Babs." Your cheeks were getting hot again.

"If you like the guy all this much you should just tell him," the pink rabbit said. You would've been inclined to agree on a normal circumstance, but Babs didn't know that the guy you were swooning over was your French professor.

"I really can't," you muttered.

You couldn't. Really.

Sure, you were both adults capable of consent, but it was inappropriate. If, and that was a big if, you ever got together, it could be disastrous for his reputation. What if coworkers found out? He could lose his job.

Not to be self-deprecating or anything, but you weren't worth that.

"How come?" Babs asked. "Oh, are you shy?" She placed her hand on your shoulder in a gesture that was supposed to be soothing, but fell flat. "You shouldn't be, you're a fox."

You rolled her eyes at the comment, neglecting to respond.

"Who is he anyway?" Babs asked suddenly. "Do I know him?"

"No!" You yelped, panic seizing your heart, but tried valiantly to pull yourself together under your friend's befuddled stare. "You don't know him," you said more calmly.

"Well, you should introduce me some time," Babs smiled obliviously. "He must be really something to have you falling this hard." The rabbit waved as she turned a corner to attend her next class, while you mumbled a vague affirmative as you pushed your way out of the building to go to work.

Neither of you were aware of another pair of listening ears.

****

Mr. Le Pew was a flirt. Charming smiles, winks, and compliments were never in short supply in his classroom. You were sure it was all meant innocently, it wasn't like he was out to seduce his students, flirty was apparently one of his personality traits.
At least that was what you had thought.

Laying low and minding your own business didn't really work if another party decided to make you the center of their world, and to you it certainly seemed like Mr. Le Pew had. It wasn't like you had been invisible to him before, you were one of the better students after all, but for the past two weeks it felt as if your professor was zeroing in on you.

If there was a question asked, your name was called, whether you knew the answer or not. He'd become more critical of your work, often calling you up to his desk to discuss it, both in front of the other students and privately. And the attention, oh the attention.

He was constantly showering you with attention. Smiling, winking, praising you. He always tried to have a hand on you too, on your shoulder, or back, and he always, always made sure to brush your fingertips with his own when handing back your paper. It was a slow, sensual touch that was far from innocent.
You hadn't been prepared for this, honestly. Students crushed on their teachers all the time, but the teachers weren't supposed to reciprocate those crushes. You weren't sure how you were supposed to react to the affection. Naturally, you wanted to accept it, to reciprocate it, but there was still that tiny little voice in the back of your head telling you that this was wrong.

To make matters worse, the other girls of the class noticed Mr. Le Pew's favor of you, if the eyes glaring at the back of your head were any indication.
You nearly jumped out of your fur when a warm hand fell on your shoulder, squeezing it gently. You looked up, eyes wide, into your professor's amused face.

"Class dismissed ten minutes ago, mon cher."

"Oh." You felt your cheeks warming and turned your face away from his, hoping it wasn't as red as it felt, only to discover that the classroom was completely empty aside from the two of you. "Sorry."

"It's quite alright, mon choux." His voice is full of warm affection and amusement. "I've been meaning to speak with you privately anyway."

"About what?" You asked, busying yourself with packing your things, trying to distract yourself from the way his voice turned your insides to goo.

"Our relationship, of course." His tone was casual, posture leisurely, but confident as he leaned against your desk.

You had started to rise from your seat, but froze halfway at his words.

"Our what?" You could feel your heart thump, thump, thumping away in your chest, sending blood straight to your face to coat your cheeks with a fresh blush when you came nearly nose to nose with the skunk.

"Do not pretend you haven't noticed what's happening between us, mon amour." He purred, sending your heart and mind into a frenzy.

You noticed, of course, he hadn't been subtle with his approach. All the flirting and close proximity, it hadn't been hard to piece together. The only thing that surprised you was that he wanted it. Wanted you.

"I...I, um." This was too much. Yes, you liked him, and yes you had known that the feeling was returned, but you hadn't expected him to act on it. His confession, his desire for a relationship, it was breaking your brain. You could practically feel the wires short circuiting.

"You are a shy one," he mused, leaning forward the necessary centimeters to nuzzle his nose to yours. "I like that."

"You're my teacher," you managed to sputter finally. "We shouldn't-"

"Do not worry," he cooed, reaching out with gentle fingertips to brush your hair back. Unable to stop yourself, you leaned into his touch as he trailed down to cup your cheek. "I have not shown you any favoritism as far as your grades are concerned, have I?"

"Well no, but-"

"And we'll have to keep this a secret for now, just until you're done with my course." He leaned forward, breath warm against your ear. "I personally find that to be quite exciting."

"You're sure?" You breathed, now trembling beneath his touch.

"Oui," he said confidently. "What are you doing Friday night hm?"

Brain absolutely useless at this point, it took you a moment to respond.

"I get off work at five."

"Then I will pick you up at seven." He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead. It took absolutely all you had to keep your knees from buckling and you absolutely could not wipe the smile off your face as you exited his class, already counting down the days.

Translations (from Google):

Mon cher–my dear

Mon choux–sweetie/my sweetie

Mon amour--my love

(I will look up more French terms of endearment lol).