Chapter Text
“Rook, may I—”
“Yes.”
This was a terrible idea. Emmrich knew it in his bones. He was far too old to be indulging in this sort of frivolous flirtation when they had a job to be doing. But it was hard to remember that with Rook looking up at him, eyes—such eyes!—glittering in the candlelight, asking with a grin if he was allowed to kiss the teacher too.
Emmrich put down the brush.
Rook's lips were soft and a little dry, and he smelled of paint and worn leather. Not an unpleasant scent, but it could be improved upon. Something rich and woody would suit him. Emmrich’s personal collection tended towards the floral, but he knew several excellent perfumiers who would be up to the task. And while he was doing that, perhaps he might also convince Rook to take better care of his hair. It was already thick and soft under Emmrich's fingers; it only wanted washing and brushing a bit more regularly, maybe a little oil on the ends to stop them drying out—
Rook gasped, lips parting under Emmrich’s, and the temptation was too great. For an instant he tasted oversteeped tea on Rook’s teeth, then Rook’s surprised moan brought him back to himself. Foolish to have overstepped so, not to mention rude—but Rook didn't seem to mind. Indeed, the expression on his face seemed to suggest he would have let Emmrich go rather further than he already had.
“Let me take you for a walk tomorrow,” he said, and watched the grin spread again, exaggerated by the gold paint.
Later that evening, Emmrich found himself wondering: What other things might Rook say yes to?