I Think I Like It

I wasn’t excited for English.
I did not pick out an outfit especially because I had English today.
I didn’t want to impress my teacher.
I didn’t even like him that much, and I definitely wasn’t flattered that he may or may not have been flirting with me. That would have been ridiculous.
Still, when I came downstairs in my favourite shirt and jeans, and my mother remarked ‘you look nice today, Frankie’, I couldn’t deny the turn my stomach gave.Maybe he’d notice I looked nice. And maybe I gave a shit a little bit more than I was willing to admit.
I wolfed down my breakfast and jumped up, kissing my Mom on the cheek as I left.
“Where’s the fire?” she exclaimed. I slowed down intentionally, smiling sheepishly at her.
“Nothing. Just, I don’t know. I’m feeling restless.” I lied. She shrugged and waved me off as I started the journey to school.
I was one of those kids who lived awkwardly close enough to the school so I could walk, but far enough that I really didn’t want to walk. Still, the weather wasn’t that bad, considering it was October, so I didn’t mind the stroll – it helped me to clear my head before school.
I worked out that, since I had English just before lunch, I had three whole lessons in which to ready myself, and to try and convince myself that I was totally not crushing on my teacher. Of course, I knew that would be shattered the moment he started reading, but I commended myself for at least trying.
I reached school as the bell rang and followed my peers into the building, feeling somewhat like sheep being herded for slaughter in the way that we all mindlessly followed each other.
My friend Chris managed to catch up with me at some point and grabbed my backpack, pulling himself up so he was level with me.
“How’s it going?” he asked, dodging younger students. I smiled at him, happy for some normality.
“It’s fine. I’m dreading English.” I said. I don’t know what made me say it – it kind of just spilled out. Chris snorted.
“You got that right. Damn, if I have to hear that old fuck read another word from that shitty book, I’m going to have to write another book called To Kill A Chris.”
I rolled my eyes at the shitty joke, but laughed anyway. I didn’t agree with him, of course, but what was I going to say? ‘Hey don’t say that, Mr. Way is nice and have you ever noticed his eyes before?’ It was just easier to pretend I agreed.
Chris and I both walked towards our Geography classroom, and he held open the door for me in mock courtesy. I laughed and pulled him in the classroom with me, and we sat down at our seats at the far end of the room.

Unlike me, Chris actually enjoyed Geography, so I was pretty much stuck doodling while he wrote down notes vigorously. I wasn’t very good at drawing, so my butterflies and flowers ended up looking like deformed dinosaurs. Whatever, that was cooler anyway.
“Iero, what is the difference between a destructive and constructive plateline?” called my teacher from the front. I laughed nervously.
“Something about how one smashes” I said vaguely. He rolled his eyes, but continued.
“I think what Mr. Iero was trying to say is that…” but I tuned him out. It’s not like I actually cared about volcanoes or whatever the hell he was talking about.

In fact, I really didn’t care for anything in any of my other lessons, either. It must have been quite obvious, too, because during our break, Chris expressed his concern.
“I dunno man, you just seem sort of out of it.” He said.
“Hey, leave him alone man, he’s probably just psyched to be turning 18 soon, am I right?” My friend Joe said. I smiled, happy for the excuse.
“Yeah, that’s it. I’m just looking forward to it. And Halloween.” I added. The guys immediately burst into cheers.
“Yeah. Dude, you’re coming to the Halloween dance, right?” Joe asked.
“It’s on my birthday, I wouldn’t miss it.” I beamed. The guys made another Neanderthal-sounding roar, before we went into our next lesson, which, for the record, also passed in a big, long, confusing blur. And then it was time for English.

I didn’t know what I was hoping for. I guess a part of me wanted him to not be there, because my heart sank when I saw him, perched on his desk as usual, cradling his copy of To Kill A Mockingbird between his thumb and forefinger. One of the girls, Katie, was talking to him, tossing her hair constantly over her shoulder, and pushing her chest out towards him. He kept his eyes expertly on hers, and didn’t seem to be responding to any of her attempts at flirting. I felt warmth in my stomach at his indifference towards her, and happily walked towards my seat. When he turned around, we locked eyes and his expression flitted through several different emotions, before settling on a polite smile, and turning back to the class.
“Is everyone happy for me to keep reading?” he said, jumping up off the desk. We all pulled our books out of our bags and nodded. I waited for him to return to his desk, but he didn’t. Instead, he sat down lightly on the corner of my desk, cleared his throat, like before, and began reading.
“Dill left us early in September, to return to Meridian. We saw him off on the five
o’clock bus and I was miserable without him until it occurred to me that I would
be starting to school in a week…”
Once again, I was shocked by the smooth, clear sound of his voice. Up close, it was even easier to see everything he was doing – even things I didn’t notice before, like how his eyebrows furrowed occasionally, or the twitch of the side of his mouth when he got to a part he clearly enjoyed. Above all, though, was that damn hand of his rubbing his thigh. From this angle, I could see truly how close his fingers got to brushing that lump in his trousers. A few times, I caught myself holding my breath because I was certain that the next stroke of the length of his leg would bring him to touch that spot I so desperately wanted him to touch, but he never did. Still, every time, I felt my stomach tighten and my cock twitch as he brought his fingers near himself, then pulled away. Jesus Christ – he was driving me crazy.

At one point, though, I caught him looking at me. It was only for a second, but it was definite. I toyed with the idea of ignoring it, just staring down at my book and waiting for the lesson to end, but I couldn’t. I found my eyes being dragged up towards his where he was somehow managing to read the book without so much as a single break in his words, and keep his eyes firmly on me. My mouth felt dry, and I brought my tongue out to wet my lips. Big mistake, apparently, as Mr. Way’s hand stilled on his thigh, just a few centimetres away from his bulge. He moved his hand experimentally higher, then looked at me, waiting for my reaction, I was sure. Instead, though, I looked around the classroom – surely someone else must be noticing this. But they weren’t. Everyone was following his or her books as he read, and weren’t so much as even looking at him. I brought my eyes back to his and, in a moment of bravery, let my teeth catch on my lips. He smirked and let his hand trail further up his leg, and I watched, feeling my own legs tingle at the sight. There was no way this could be happening. Still, even through all of this, the words came flowing from his lips, unwavering and constant, not a beat out of place.
I glared at his hand where it rested on his upper thigh. A few centimetres. The man needed to move his hand a few fucking centimetres. He knew what I wanted, there was no denying that, yet he refused to give it to me. I suppressed a whimper, and instead, shifted very obviously in my chair, showing him how uncomfortable I was.
To my absolute mortification, he stopped reading and looked at me with mock concern.
“Frank, are you okay?” he asked, furrowing his eyebrows, but there was a mischievous light in his eyes. I smiled a strained smile.
“Yeah. Dead leg.” I murmured. He nodded and turned his attention back to the book.
I thought that would be the end of it – but, of course, it wasn’t because the universe and my English teacher apparently hate me. He let his fingers brush around the top of his thigh for a while, before sliding them softly onto – finally – the bulge (now somewhat more pronounced) in his suit trousers. He explored himself gently with his fingertips, positioning his hand so that, if anyone else looked up, he could make it look natural. Nobody did, though, and he didn’t break eye contact with me for almost the whole time (except, of course, for when the action of reading demanded his attention). I pursed my lips, staring at him hungrily, not even bothering to hide how I was feeling, as I let one of my hands drop beneath the table, and pressed my fingers into my own swelling lump. He stilled his hand and didn’t look at me for some time, and I thought that maybe I’d gone too far. Feeling ashamed, I brought my hand up from under the table, and in doing so, almost missed the smirk that played around his lips as he grabbed himself. Literally, right there, wrapped his fingers around his trouser-clad dick and squeezed lightly.
I nearly lost it. I clenched my fists under the desk as I watched him squeeze himself again, this time letting his fingers stroke down his shaft, before settling just above his knee.
That bastard.

He finished the chapter and put his book back up on his desk, and sat down behind his desk – something that was very unusual for him, who normally sat on his desk (or in this case, on my desk). I let out a soft laugh, and was met with him glaring at me through narrowed eyes, which I responded to with an innocent smile.
“Ah, Katie, collect all the books for me.” He said. He sounded tired, and I smirked at him again. He squared his jaw and looked at me with a fire in his eyes that was no less than terrifying. I shifted in my seat, but for a different reason this time. Surely, he couldn’t be angry with me?
“Okay guys, I want you to take the notes you wrote in your books, and use them to plan an essay for me.” He said. Everyone else got to work straight away, except me who didn’t have any notes – which he knew, because he was too busy trying to tease me the whole time. I put a shaky hand up.
“What?” he snapped.
“I…um…I don’t…”
“You don’t have any notes.” He said blankly. I nodded silently.
“And why is that?” he sneered. I bit my lip and shrugged. He smiled, but it was strained.
“You didn’t write any notes because you were too busy daydreaming to listen. Detention, Iero; I want to see you after school.” He said, glaring at me.
I was at a loss for words. I had no idea what the hell had just happened to me, and, to be honest, I felt a little bit used. I kept my head down for the rest of the lesson and, when the bell rang, made sure I was one of the first up and ready to go. That didn’t stop him from keeping me behind, though.
“Frank?” he said. I approached his desk warily. He said nothing until the rest of the class had filed out and then looked at me, his eyes dark and lust-blown.
“I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I’ll tell you this. You have to fucking watch what you’re doing.”
“I…I didn’t mean to…” I stammered.
“Don’t interrupt me.” He growled “You know what you’re doing. Watching me with those big, innocent eyes, when really all you want is a fuck. I don’t know where this has come from, but I swear to God, if you do that one more time I will not hesitate to drag you to my desk and fuck you in front of the whole class. Am I understood?” he demanded, his voice barely a dark purr. I stood staring at him, too shocked for words.
“I’ll see you after school.” He said curtly, and motioned me to leave. My feet walked me out of the room without me telling them to, as my mind tried to work out what the actual fuck had just happened to me.

Notes

Thanks so much to everyone who has read/subscribed/commented on this. I'm so proud of the reception I've gotten from just one day - you guys are awesome. <3