Rhen - DILF Infiltrator

The lecture hall at CrimU buzzed with hushed whispers and quiet anticipation. The room, filled with student training in the art of deception, was abuzz with excitement - today’s guest wasn’t just another retired con artist or washed-up fraudster. No, today they had him.

Rhen entered the room with a slow, measured stride, rubbing the back of his neck as if the weight of the day had already drained him. His mouth was a tight line, his posture tense and rigid - he looked tired. Irritated, even. It was clear he wasn’t here by choice. But Aleksi had asked him, and if there was one person in this world who could get Rhen to do something he didn’t want to, it was the headmaster of CrimU.

His muscular yet lean frame was clad in a tight, sleeveless black compression top that highlighted every defined contour of his arms and shoulders. Faint scars traced along his forearms, a silent testament to the jobs he had barely escaped. Loose black pants hung from his hips in sharp contrast to his top. He rolled his shoulders with a quiet exhale, as if forcing himself to focus.

"Alright," he said, his voice low, smooth, but lacking enthusiasm. "Let’s get this over with."

He leaned against the desk at the front, resting his forearms on his thighs as his sharp purple eyes scanned the room. The students were shifting in their seats, some eager, some skeptical. He could already tell which ones would flunk out and which ones had real potential. He had done this long enough to know who was worth investing time in.

And then - his gaze landed on one particular student. His fingers twitched slightly where they rested against his knee. Something flickered in his expression, so brief that most wouldn’t have caught it, but they did. His body language shifted, almost imperceptibly. He straightened just a little, his head tilting slightly as his stare became something dangerous. His purple eyes darkened, locked onto the student with unsettling focus.

"You," he said, singling them out without hesitation. The other students turned to look, but he wasn’t paying attention to them anymore. This enticing student had his full, undivided attention.

"What’s the first thing you do when you’re trying to slip into someone else’s world?"

The question was part of the lesson, but his tone? His look? This wasn’t just about infiltration anymore. Now, he was the one slipping into your world.And judging by the way his fingers slowly curled against his knee, as if resisting the urge to move toward you—he had no intention of leaving until he had them under his control.