Ansel listened with a light smile on his face as Lucio began to gush on and on about his brothers. It was obvious that Lucio was incredibly fond of his siblings, showing off their pictures like a proud parent. Ansel couldn't help but look eagerly, admiring the striking beauty of each young man. Ansel could see the obvious similarities between the brothers; all of them sported long golden locks that framed delicate, androgynous faces, with Griffith perhaps being the most masculine of the three, but only minutely. They were all beautiful, all enticing, but despite Cassio and Griffith's pulchritude, Ansel only had eyes for Lucio.<br/><br/>"You didn't lie, Cassio is lovely, as is Griffith. But even with their staggering good looks, they don't hold a candle to you, darling," Ansel replied, a playful grin on his face as he casually brushed his hand against Lucio's arm. He was disappointed when they reached his dark red Mercedes-Benz sedan, wishing that their stroll could continue on for hours. Anything to get the opportunity to listen to Lucio speak. Petra often teased him for his fondness for German-made vehicles, claiming that the only reason he liked them was because of his German ancestry and his innate need to eradicate cars of any foreign make. Ansel, not typically one to be overly sensitive, often found these jokes inappropriate and crass, especially considering that his grandparents had been some of the many underground Germans to help hide and transport Jewish families during WWII. The jokes had led to numerous arguments that culminated in the decision that Petra wasn't allowed in his car anymore if she couldn't shut up. It had been months since anyone other than Ansel had been inside, but now Ansel desperately wished he could pull Lucio in, behind the tinted windows, and kiss him until sunrise.<br/><br/>Ansel laughed heartily at Lucio's snarky comment about "actual" football. "Actual foot ball, eh? I think you're talking about good ol' soccer," Ansel replied, unintentionally letting out a bit of his inherent Chicagoan accent that he often took great strides to hide. The Chicago accent wasn't known for sounding especially high class, so once Ansel had gotten out of the Chicagoland area to continue on with his studies in psychology, he had done everything he could to squash the distinctive speech pattern and adopt a more appropriate sounding general American affectation. He felt himself blush when he heard the abhorrent sounds come out of his lips, but his embarrassment was quickly forgotten as he noticed Lucio sliding close, pressing his thin body against Ansel's.<br/><br/>"Of course, Mr. Bane. How could I say no?" Ansel's question was met with Lucio's lips, and instantly Ansel was floating, the taste of Lucio's mouth overwhelming him and causing his body to tense and loosen at all once. Although the hands of Ansel's watch would have told him that he and Lucio lingered there together for at least five minutes, it felt like no time at all once Lucio had pulled away. The young man quickly scampered off, leaving the professor still leaning against his car, watching with hungry eyes and a yearning heart as Lucio disappeared.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;&lt;&gt;<br/>​</div>George Charles Grissom had been a professor of anthropology for the last twenty years. He was older, shorter and balder than Ansel, with an academic gut that always threatened to pop the buttons on his too small white button up. He stubbornly refused to believe that he needed a larger size and would claim to anyone brave enough to mention it that his shirts just had a nasty habit of shrinking in the wash.<br/><br/>At the beginning of every semester, Professor Grissom would often see full seats on the first day of class, only to then watch them empty and his class number dwindle as students discovered that they could fulfill their elective requirement with one of Doctor Essen's more interesting and lively classes instead of Grissom's dull lectures. Whispers floated through the chairs about the fabled Doctor Essen and his fascinating lectures, his stern but fair grading, and what his body must look like underneath all of his attractive suits. The one time George had felt brave enough to visit that website all the professors said to stay away from, the one where students rated their teachers in a variety of categories, he looked at Ansel's rating first. Doctor Essen's score was a consistent 4.8 out of 5, points only ever taken off due to Ansel's tough grading habits. The joke category that rated a professor's attractiveness was even rated exceptionally high, nearly all of his students saying that not only were his lectures fun to listen to, Doctor Essen was a pleasure to look at. When Grissom checked his own score, only four students had taken the time to rate him, giving him an average score of 2.1 out of 5.<br/><br/>If George Grissom were asked how he felt about Ansel von Essen, he would say that he absolutely, positively despised the man.<br/><br/>As George rounded the corner of the Fine Arts building, lingering on the edge of the faculty parking lot, he couldn't help but notice two figures up against a distinctive red Mercedes, parked a few spots away from a dull parking lamp. He watched the two as they embraced one another passionately, the smaller of the two pressing their body tight against the larger. After what seemed like an eternity, the two released one another, and Ansel's smug, pointed face shone in the light.<br/><br/>"That pig," George hissed quietly, lamenting on his own single existence. He grumbled to himself as the smaller figure rushed away from Ansel, toward where George was hiding in the shadows. "Wait a second . . . " George said, squinting as Lucio approached. He recognized that suit, the thin frame, that face . . .<br/><br/>A wicked grin spread across George's lips as he stepped from the shadows, pretending that he was busy on his phone as he moved toward Lucio. He brought up his head and exclaimed positively as Lucio passed. "Oh, excuse me, you were in the performance, weren't you? Truly fantastic!" He held out a hand for Lucio to shake, and continued running his mouth before Lucio could get a word in. "How long have you been in the school's choir? Since you started attending the university?"<br/><br/>George didn't really need Lucio to confirm that he was a student, but he wanted to hear it. Once he heard it, he could wait, stalk, get evidence of the two canoodling around campus. Ansel's violation of the non-fraternization rule would result in at least a suspension. Maybe it'd even get the arrogant ass fired from the university. He wouldn't be able to get a job at any respectable school after that. It was too good. Just too perfect.<br/><br/><i>Fuck him. He deserves it</i>, George thought bitterly, a slimy grin still plastered on his face as he glared at Lucio.