Academy's Pervert in the D Class
Chapter 85: reached

Chapter 85: reached

Eva reached for her tea, her fingers brushing the cup’s rim, then set it down again, untouched. "Miss Silvia was different today."

Lor glanced up, his interest piqued beneath his casual facade.

"Like... really different," she continued, her voice thoughtful, almost admiring.

"Not just her hair up or a new spell robe. Her posture, her voice... even the way she held the chalk. She looked like she belonged in that classroom today."

Lor smirked faintly, leaning back in his chair, the memory of Silvia’s ritual flashing through his mind—her auburn hair disheveled, glasses fogged, breasts heaving under his touch.

"She came to the Guiding Light."

Eva’s eyebrows lifted, surprise widening her green eyes. "Seriously?"

He nodded, sipping his tea to mask the satisfaction curling in his chest. "She asked for help. She didn’t want to be clumsy anymore. She wanted to be a real teacher... one we could respect. So, yeah. The Light helped her."

Eva leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs, her skirt riding up just enough to tease the edge of her plump thighs.

She let the thought settle, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the desk.

"Good," she murmured, a soft smile tugging at her lips. "Class D’s a joke to everyone. But if she changes... maybe we will be a bit less of a joke to everyone."

She looked over at him again, her gaze lingering, warmer now. "And maybe she won’t be ’the walking wardrobe malfunction’ anymore."

They both chuckled softly at that, the sound light and shared, easing the lingering tension from the ritual.

The moment stretched—warm, oddly comforting, like a brief truce in their tangled web of secrets and desires.

Lor reached for the last biscuit, his fingers brushing the tray.

So did Eva, her hand grazing his in the process.

They both stopped.

Looked at each other.

Neither said a word, the touch electric, a spark jumping between them—remnants of the heat from minutes ago, her skin still faintly flushed beneath her composed exterior.

Eva smiled first—small, polite, but with a hint of something deeper, her cheeks warming subtly. "I should take my leave."

Lor nodded, withdrawing his hand, the biscuit forgotten. "Thanks... for making it happen."

Eva stood, dusting off her skirt with deliberate care, the fabric hugging her curves as she smoothed it down. "Thanks for doing my homework."

He nodded, his hazel eyes following her movement, a quiet hunger stirring again.

She moved to the door.

Opened it.

Paused once, her hand on the frame, glancing back with a fleeting look that held unspoken questions.

And left, her footsteps soft on the stairs, leaving Lor alone in his room.

click

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Eva, Lor stood.

He didn’t hesitate.

Didn’t even glance at the empty tea cups or the fading warmth in the tray, the golden light of street lamps from outside the window casting long shadows across the room.

His steps were quiet as he slipped into the hallway, past the stairs where Mira’s faint humming drifted up from below, to the bathroom door.

He opened it slowly, the hinge creaking softly in the quiet house.

The air inside was faintly warm, still holding the echo of steam from earlier, mingled with a subtle floral scent—Eva’s, lingering like a secret.

The light above the mirror flickered softly, casting a gentle glow on the tiled walls.

The towels had been refolded neatly.

The water droplets wiped clean from the edges of the tub.

Not a trace left behind.

Eva had cleaned everything.

Thoroughly.

As if erasing the evidence of her desperation, her moans, her release.

Lor stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a soft click, the sound sealing him in with the memories.

His fingers trailed the porcelain of the bathtub rim, feeling for any lingering warmth that wasn’t there anymore.

He didn’t know why he felt disappointed—maybe because the mess would’ve made it feel more real.

More recent.

Like she was still there, panting and wet and trembling, her fingers buried deep, her body arching in ecstasy.

He sighed, a low exhale that stirred the steam still clinging to the mirror.

Turned the tap.

Hot water rushed out, filling the tub with a steady roar, steam rising in lazy curls.

He stripped slowly, unbuttoning his shirt, the fabric whispering against his skin as it fell away.

His pants followed, sliding down his legs, his cock springing free—still semi-hard, carrying the faint ache from earlier, the tension never fully gone.

It pulsed in the warm air, heavy with need, as he stepped into the tub and sank into the rising heat.

The water swallowed his body, wrapping around his thighs, his chest, lapping at his skin like a lover’s touch.

He closed his eyes with a long, low exhale, leaning back against the cool porcelain.

This...

This was the same place.

The same porcelain she had spread her legs over, her plump thighs quivering.

The same edge she had braced herself on, grinding against it in desperation.

The same bath where she had trembled as her fingers pumped between her thighs, her pussy clenching and dripping, her mouth calling his name in moans only he had heard—raw, needy, forbidden.

His cock twitched underwater, hardening fully now, the water doing nothing to quell the fire building in his core.

He let his hand drift down slowly, fingers brushing his thigh before wrapping around his shaft, the warmth of the bath making every touch feel amplified, slick and teasing.

This wasn’t just lust—it was satisfaction.

Progress.

Control.

Things were aligning.

The game with Kiara—her possessive grip cracking under his calculated kisses.

Eva folding herself deeper into his life, her body yielding to the Guiding Light’s "demands," her trust growing with every ritual.

Miss Silvia already reborn through the Light—her clumsy curves now commanding the classroom, her confidence a testament to his power.

His net was widening—and no one had seen it yet.

Not the full web, anyway.

He imagined Eva again.

Not cleaning. Not leaving composed and distant.

.

.

.

"Aahnn!~"

A low, guttural groan slipped past his lips.

Soon... The thought pulsed in his mind, syncing with the rhythm of his movements.

He wished—no, ached—to be free of the need for his own hand.

Sinking deeper into the warm embrace of the tub, he let his eyes remain shut, a slow, satisfied smirk tugging at his mouth.

Soon.