Chapter Text
Professor Lovell was in the middle of a lecture when a note materialised on his desk. Playfair had recently invented a new match pair which allowed memos to be sent instantly between staff and students within Babel, removing the necessity of running up and down the stairs. It was very helpful, but it was also very new and exciting and was definitely being used far more than necessary.
Noticing the handwriting, Professor Lovell excused himself for a moment and picked it up to read.
Richard,
I noticed you were looking a little peaky this morning, I think you need some vitamin D. Please come to my office at your earliest convenience.
Jerôme
Professor Lovell suppressed a smile and continued his lecture, refusing to let his mind dwell for too long on the contents of the note.
When the hour was over he knocked gently on Professor Playfair’s office door before entering.
“On your knees, no arguments,” commanded Professor Playfair the moment the door had closed. “And no smirking either.”
“Sorry my Lord, yes of course,” came the soft reply, as Professor Lovell removed his cape and lowered himself to kneel on his preferred cushion, which had been placed considerately on the floor.
“You’d like to help me out today, wouldn’t you?” Professor Playfair asked sweetly.
“Oh yes my Lord, yes please,” came the somewhat breathless reply.
Playfair caressed his cheek, and then slapped it sharply. Maintaining eye contact, he slapped him again twice more, increasing in intensity until Professor Lovell’s eyes were watering. “Thank God for silver, I can hurt you as much as I want and then fix you up again for the afternoon.”
When Professor Lovell didn’t reply, Playfair prompted him. “Well, don’t you agree that’s a good thing? A very good thing indeed?”
“I do my Lord, it’s very good, thank you.”
"Excellent. Now, I think that's enough chitchat, let's put your mouth to work," and he removed his own cape and unbuttoned his trousers.