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Mo Ran’s footsteps echoed loudly in the cool hallway, the melting snow from his boots adding wetness to the sound. His steps felt louder than usual; it was nearing 7pm, so most sane students were either back in their dorms or burrowed in study materials in actual study spaces. But Mo Ran never claimed he was sane and he never claimed he was there for academics. In fact, he was no longer a student at all.
The thermos in his hand radiated coolness from the snow outside — that’s what Mo Ran got for being the kind of fool to brave snowstorms to go to his former campus on an evening. Despite that, Mo Ran knew the contents would be warm. After all, his dear professor Chu (well, ex-professor now) had taught him everything he would ever need to know about insulation.
Mo Ran’s face twisted into something playful as he walked further down the hallway but morphed into something sweeter and sweeter as he approached his favourite ex-professor’s open door. He always left his door like that, Mo Ran mused. He must still want to make sure his students knew he was available to listen and offer help. Of course, Mo Ran knew from experience Chu Wanning only saw a handful of students during a semester; they were the braver ones who were not afraid of cold expressions and intimidated by this man’s hefty accomplishments. Mo Ran also knew how wistful Chu Wanning looked at the idea of having more students coming to ask questions, just a few days ago.
(When Mo Ran would see him, he thought, he would hold Chu Wanning extra tight.)
Chu Wanning was sitting in his windowless office, all alone, surrounded by stacks of essays and exams, and technical papers that were annotated to varying degrees. He was frowning at the desktop screen before him, which had its brightness way too high. Surely he would get a headache at this rate. There were a few mugs next to him — from the door, Mo Ran could tell they were either empty or forgotten. His hand twitched and he had to stop himself from tidying them. He knocked instead.
Chu Wanning’s eyes met his. There was a hint of surprise there and it looked way too endearing to Mo Ran, who gripped the thermos in his hand tighter.
Slowly, Mo Ran closed the door and walked into the office that used to feature in some of his more elaborate nightmares. This was a place he dreaded being in, expecting news of expulsion from university there. Somehow, said news never came, and he did manage to graduate. And now, this office was simply the place where Chu Wanning could be found.
“Sit down,” Chu Wanning said in that cool voice of his.
If Mo Ran heard it a year ago, he would have secretly cowered in fear. But now, all he felt was more fondness. He also didn't sit down, choosing to come closer to Chu Wanning.
“I got you some tea,” Mo Ran said to him. He offered the thermos, before realising there was nowhere to set it down, so he tidied up a corner of his desk until it could accommodate a steaming cup of tea.
But before he could pour it, Mo Ran let out a laugh, struck by a gentle realisation.
“What is it?”
“Heh, just remembered, if I'd've tried cleaning your desk this like a month ago you’d have cut my hand off.”
“Nonsense.”
Chu Wanning looked up at Mo Ran, who noticed his ex-professor’s nose was a bit pink, and his fingertips looked cold and a little dry. He quickly grabbed some moisturising lotion from the little bottle that somehow didn’t fall off the corner of Chu Wanning’s desk and grabbed his fingers to rub it in. Chu Wanning’s hands really lacked circulation…
When Mo Ran first touched Chu Wanning in this way, a month ago, Chu Wanning had flinched reflectively. Mo Ran had pulled back his hand, resigned to go bury himself under some rubble and give up on having the ability to breathe and circulate blood, when Chu Wanning grabbed his hand back, in the most hesitant hold. Mo Ran had then decided that he would forsake any earthly possessions he had for this man and do stupid things like braving snowstorms all his life for him.
“Can’t you put a space heater on in here? It’s way too cold here, you’re freezing…”
“I’m fine.”
“Your nose is red.”
“...”
Nothing to do about it. Next time, Mo Ran would bring a heater to him himself. For now, he took care of Chu Wanning’s hands well, rubbing them with the cream and holding them tight until they started to feel warm again. When the tips of his fingers regained some colour he pulled Chu Wanning’s wrist to his lips, almost unconsciously.
A very small gasp sounded in the room, muffled by the papers. Mo Ran recognized this sound.
Mo Ran looked at Chu Wanning’s face — his nose was even redder than before, but now so were his ears, and Mo Ran wondered in a thrilling flash, what the hell was his ex-professor thinking?
With a smile (smirk, really), Mo Ran leaned into Chu Wanning’s space, until he could feel Chu Wanning’s sharp intake of breath. Until he could smell the heat of his skin, until his lips got to the nape of his neck.
He smelled flowers. Haitang , Chu Wanning had said to him ages ago, when he noticed the smell. His cheeks had gone a little colored then — clearly he had not been expecting his student to be insolent enough to get distracted by that scent as he was explaining the third lecture he gave him. Again.
Distantly, steps sounded in the hallway. Clearly someone was just passing through and they were gone almost as soon.
“We –” Chu Wanning said after a moment, his voice only a raspy sound. The air was a little dry in the office. “We shouldn’t do it here.”
Mo Ran blinked for the exact amount of time it took to wonder what the hell was up with Chu Wanning and deciding it really didn’t matter.
Because see, Mo Ran would have agreed if it had been earlier in the day, and if there wasn’t an unpleasant snowstorm outside. But right then nothing seemed to matter — it was cold and Chu Wanning’s ears were getting redder and redder and redder. What could Mo Ran do but bury his face in his neck and leave a trail of kisses? Was he really not supposed to let one of his hands go pull at Wanning’s hair until he could feel him shiver, while he licked a sliver of enticing skin beneath his ear? Chu Wanning’s hands were already warm — was he really not supposed to let his own hands roam, to take care of Chu Wanning’s body? It was so cold and Chu Wanning’s chest looked like it needed to be touched through his shirt which, interestingly, became looser somehow. Fascinating how that seemed to happen around Mo Ran.
Chu Wanning’s breaths grew more laboured and Mo Ran wondered, not for the first time, why was it so easy for his professor to get like this? If he had been the him from years ago, Mo Ran would have called Chu Wanning so many dirty names — he stopped the span of a breath to wonder whether he should.
That stray thought vanished when he felt Chu Wanning’s hands suddenly come into action, grabbing his shirt with a bruising grip, threatening to tear the fabric. Chu Wanning was always like that. He was not much different from a cat, kneading into his back to show his affection. Of course, there was no way a cat would have Chu Wanning’s arm strength, and so Mo Ran found himself nearly sitting on Chu Wanning’s lap.
“You —” his voice was just a whisper and so embarrassed and so so close. “Just, touch more. Now.”
There was a second where Mo Ran wondered if it was something about the situation that made Chu Wanning this much needier before deciding it really, really didn’t matter. It took the manoeuvring of a hand, lower, gentler, faster, for Chu Wanning to drop closer to Mo Ran and let himself relax onto his body. Someday, Mo Ran thought, it would take more for Chu Wanning to be satisfied. But for now, it seemed to have been enough and strangely, Mo Ran thought that may be enough for him too.
(And anyway, they had so much time. Mo Ran could have his fun later. Many many times over.)