Ugly but benign (snz kink blog)

And Leah was her greatest enemy. At least in public.

Behind the scenes, however, they had a secret love affair that would shock everyone at the university if it ever came out.

“Alright, let’s go back to Salem… imagine the panic that spread, a disease in its own right… huhh-ESSCHHHew! ‘scuse me, a plague of superstition yes, but that’s not all it was…”

***

After wrapping up her lecture, at this point with almost no voice left at all, Leah shuffled to her office. Her head was pounding, her whole body felt sore, and she was pretty sure she was running a temperature. Her throat felt like it was on fire and there were embers from that fire spreading to her nose.

She dropped down in her chair and sneezed heavily into the crook of her arm again, because of course she had forgotten to bring any tissues.

That’s when there was a knock on her door.

She opened her mouth to say ‘come in’, but nothing happened. The only noise that came out was a high-pitched squeak that reminded her of a random noise her cat made sometimes. She cleared her throat and tried again, with marginally better result.

“Cobe id…”  

The door opened and Clarissa Ashfield stepped inside, quickly locking it behind her. She looked as regal as ever, with her silver hair in a perfect French twist and her tailored grey suit flawless and wrinkle-free. Leah's cardigan looked like a disaster zone in comparison.

“Good morning, my dear. I heard you caught the campus plague,” Clarissa said softly and put a steaming cup down on Leah’s cluttered desk. Porcelain, not paper. “Earl Grey with lemon and honey. I assumed you needed it.”

“Oh God Clare, thag you…” Leah croaked. “By throat is od fire.”

“I know,” Clarissa said sympathetically and stroked a wild strand of hair out of her face.

“How would you kdow? You dever get sick,” Leah replied, attempting a joke although there was some seriousness mixed in. She had worked at the university for nine years, had a, first exclusively erotic but lately increasingly tender, relationship with Clarissa for six months, and had never seen the elegant English professor with as much as a case of the sniffles.

Clarissa put an unopened travel pack of Kleenex in front of Leah, who gratefully pulled out two sheets of paper and blew her nose with emphasis.

“Oh, so you think I’ve never been sick, do you?”

“Well, I’ve never seen it, so it can’t be very often.”

Clarissa rolled her eyes and shook her head, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips.

“Oh Leah, you have no idea. When I was in my thirties, I was sick constantly. And I mean constantly, back-to-back colds, sinus infections, stomach bugs, strep throat, bronchitis, pneumonia, laryngitis, ear infections, even chickenpox… oh, and then there was that time when I had the bubonic plague…”

Leah stared at her, then she started laughing so hard the laughter turned into wheezy, raspy coughing.

“Now you’re just pulling my leg! You did not have the black death, Clarissa!” She squeaked the words out through her raw throat, but despite Leah’s disbelief, Clarissa’s expression didn’t change.

“Yes, I did. Yersinia pestis. I caught it in the 90s when I was in Arizona. The bacteria still exists in some places and apparently, I crossed paths with an infected flea somehow. I spent that semester’s finals week in isolation with a cannula in my arm and fever delirium. I think it was after that ordeal that my immune defence finally decided it was time to start doing its job. After that, I think I’ve had three colds total over the past twenty years. A far more acceptable behaviour of my body, if I may say so.”

“The fucking plague… you truly are an enigma wrapped in a riddle, Clarissa Ashfield,” Leah managed in a half-squeak, half-whisper, as Clarissa put her hand on her forehead. Her palm was wonderfully cool against Leah’s hot skin.

“And you are a feverish mess, Leanne Sharp,” Clarissa replied. “Drink your tea, and then you should go home. Get some proper rest.”

“I’d love to, but I have essays to grahh-grade… hehh...”

Leah’s breath caught in her throat, and she snatched a clean tissue from the pack that her lover had provided her with.

“Huhh-EISSSCHHHew! Oh God…”

“Bless you. Give them to me. I’ll grade them for you.”

“What does a Victorian literature expert know about the Salem witch trials?” Leah asked in her wavering, almost-gone voice and blew her nose again.

“More than I would like,” Clarissa said with a sigh. “My ancestors were there, Leah. Though I regret to inform you, they were not on the right side of history.”

Leah was a bit too feverish (not to mention her throat hurt too much) to interrogate Clarissa on her family link to the history that Leah so vividly taught, so she settled for a more practical approach – accepting the offer.

“Please don’t grade as harshly as you would your own students,” she said. “Mine would be suspicious.”

“I’ll give as much lenience as my conscience will allow.”

“None at all then, thank you so much for scaring my students,” Leah said, but this time she was grinning. It was a tired grin, but nevertheless full of genuine amusement.

“You’re welcome,” Clarissa said in a deadpan tone, but the hand she placed on Leah’s forehead again was gentle, her touch full of the tenderness she couldn’t show in public. When she spoke again, her voice was soft.

“Drink your tea, Leah. And then go straight home. I’ll take care of your grading, and if it’s that important to you, I’ll grade generously.”

“Th-thank… thank you-uhhh…huhh-ISSSCHHew!”

“Bless you, my darling. Oh, that sounded like it hurt.”

“Ugh,” Leah replied, which was the only confirmation Clarissa needed.

She leaned in closer and placed a gentle kiss on Leah’s forehead as she slowly ran her slender fingers through the younger woman’s hair again.

“I’m coming over with some soup later.”

“You?” Leah squeaked. “Making soup?”

“I’ll pretend I’m not insulted by the insinuation that I can’t cook,” Clarissa chuckled. “You’ll see later. If you can taste anything in the first place.”

“Doubtful,” Leah admitted and blew her nose forcefully. “But I promise to praise your cooking skills anyway.”

“You better,” Clarissa said, took the pile of essays on Leah’s desk and put them into her leather satchel. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”

“Thank you,” Leah wheezed. “You’re so sweet.”

Clarissa stiffened for a moment on her way to the door.

“You may be the only person in the world who thinks so.”

“Well, be that as it may. I’m sure you know by now that I’m quite persistent in my opinions.”

Clarissa laughed out loud this time.

“That, you are.”

When the door had closed behind her, Leah sipped the tea and closed her eyes as its smooth sweetness slid down her inflamed throat. She hadn’t said the words she wanted to say, because she wasn’t sure if that would be the thing that would scare off the ice queen professor for good and didn’t want to take the chance, but now she whispered them into the silence that Clarissa had left behind.