I Think I Like It

My conversation with Mr. Way left me feeling weird. Like, really, really weird. I supposed that the responsible thing would be to tell someone about it, to make him stop, but the thought of it made alarm bells go off in my head. Truth be told, I didn’t want him to stop. Even though I felt insecure and nauseous after our talk, I felt oddly satisfied. As weird as it was to be told that your teacher wanted to fuck you (and it was weird, even repeating it in my own mind), it made me feel superior, almost. I met my friends at the lunch hall with an air of confidence that I’d never had before, feeling like I was walking on clouds instead of the plastic, sticky floor.
Though, my confidence immediately dissolved when we sat down at our usual table and I saw Mr. Way sitting on the table adjacent to us, in the seat right across from mine. My cheeks burned, and the nausea won in the battle between my emotions.
“Can we sit somewhere else today?” I blurted out.
“Why?” asked Chris. I chewed my lip, trying to get a good answer.
“I don’t know…maybe sit outside or something? The weather’s nice.” I said feebly. My friends made grunts of disapproval, muttering about how cold it was, and that I was ‘fucking crazy’. I just nodded like I agreed, and tried to focus on something else except the man sitting almost exactly across from me. I knew that at some point I’d have to look up, and the thought made me feel like my stomach was in knots. I couldn’t bear to face him after what happened. I mean, the guy practically jacked off in front of me, and then threatened me with voyeuristic sex. You can’t get much more awkward than that, and frankly, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to face him yet – bearing in mind that I had our little session after school to look forward to. I’d resolved to ignore him as best I could for now.
But one little peek couldn’t hurt, right?

I flicked my eyes up and was happy to see that he wasn’t looking at me, but instead was looking down into a book. His eyebrows were furrowed and his hair was sticking up in places from where he’d clearly run his hands through it several times. He looked so friendly and approachable that it made me question if the conversation had ever really happened. Maybe I was just projecting some secret desire onto him, and that made everything he said seem dirtier than it was?
No. Of course not. Even if I’d imagined some of it, I’d definitely heard his threat, and the way his eyes looked when he glared at me. My cock twitched in my jeans at the thought of it, and I took a deep breath to calm myself down. Unsuccessfully, of course.
I looked up again, half-hoping he was looking at me, and was actually disappointed when he wasn’t. His face was still buried in the book, his hair even more disheveled than before. I got a strong urge to run my hand through it, and clenched my fist under the table, as a physical reminder of why I should totally not do that.
He sighed, as if frustrated, and snapped the book shut. He lifted his head ran a hand through his hair again and, in doing so, made eye contact with me. My breath caught in my throat as he looked at me. He didn’t smile, or glare, or do much of anything. He just stared at me, like I was a problem that he couldn’t work out. My heart leaped in my throat, and I knew I had to do something to make him stop looking at me like that, but before I had the chance, he was on his feet. I let my head fall into my hands and sighed. I didn’t even know how I felt, and it was that asshole’s entire fault. Why did he have to ruin everything? I was happy having my meaningless little crush, and then he had to turn it into something sinister. Before, it was a bit of fun, something to get me through the day (granted, this was only the second day of me having found him attractive), but now it was a burden weighing heavily on my chest.
As he reached the door of the hall, he looked at me again, with a gaze so intense, it sent shivers down my spine. He seemed to be debating something, before he stepped through the door, and was gone.

I spent the next hour of my life worrying. I don’t mean that I was nervous, either, I mean I went into full-on panic mode. My heart raced in my chest, my stomach did somersaults and I hands were sweating so much, I could barely hold my pencil, making the flower I was meant to be drawing look more like a deformed frog. I didn’t know what to expect – what if I walked in and he grabbed me? Would he stop, if I asked him to? Or maybe it would just be an hour of him teasing me again? I didn’t know if I could handle that; I’d probably explode (literally). The thing that scared me the most, though, is the idea that we would just sit there in silence, ignoring each other. After everything, I didn’t think I could bear to have him just dismiss me like that. I sighed and put my pencil down, grimacing at the ‘art’ I had produced. I looked up at the clock – there was only ten minutes left of my lesson. Ten minutes until I had to man the fuck up and go do something that I knew, no matter what, would be difficult. Damn him. Damn that motherfucker.
I decided, given the circumstances, that putting my head down and trying not to think would be the best thing to do for the next ten minutes.

I stood outside of his classroom, not even daring to look inside. I honestly had no idea what would happen when I entered the room, and I couldn’t tell if the turning of my stomach was excitement or dread. My hand shook as I put it on the handle and finally let myself into the classroom, where my stomach dropped almost straight away.
There was a small group of boys in the back corner of the room in a circle, talking quietly to each other. I looked from them, to Mr. Way, who wasn’t even looking at me. That fucker.
I cleared my throat, even though I knew he’d heard me come in, and he looked up wearily.
“Oh. I forgot you were coming. Sit wherever.” He said. I pursed my lips and made my way to a seat at the back.
“And by that, I meant sit there.” He said, pointing to the seat directly in front of him, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. I fought the urge to smile as I sat down, looking up at him.
“Sit there and do whatever you want for the next hour.” He grumbled, putting his head back down and doing whatever it was he was doing before. Disappointment crashed around me as I realized that I was expected to just sit here, in silence. I sighed and ran my hand through my hair, letting my head fall back as I did. I barely heard the hitch in his breath, but it was still there. Enough that I knew I couldn’t have imagined it. I rolled my head forward, so I was facing him, and saw that he was still writing, but his left hand clenched on the table, and his lip was caught between his teeth. I felt a rush of pride and looked down to hide my smile. Even though I’d managed to get his attention, I didn’t want to push it. As much as I didn’t think he’d go through with his threat from earlier, I still didn’t want him to be angry with me. I thought of the way his eyes had looked, so dark and lust-blown that I could barely see any colour; not only that, but the way his jaw squared and tensed as he talked to me, his voice barely more than a growl. Again, my cock twitched in my jeans, which were getting uncomfortably tight. Well, fuck.
I looked behind me and saw that the boys were completely immersed in their own conversation, not even looking at either Mr. Way or I. I let my eyes fall on him, and saw that he too was preoccupied. Nobody would notice if I quickly dealt with my ever-growing problem. I slid a discreet hand under the table and pressed my fingers urgently against the hard lump in my jeans, biting my lip to stop myself from moaning at the relief it brought. I tried not to move my arm too much as I rubbed myself under the table, pushing my hips forward to increase the friction. I glanced up at Mr. Way and felt my stomach tighten with need, because, fuck, I wished he would just fucking touch me. Staring at him only fuelled the fire, so I looked away. As much as I needed a release, I was almost 18, and was way too old to be cumming in my pants.
“Mr. Iero. Do you think I’m blind or stupid?” Mr. Way’s cold voice said suddenly, cutting the quiet of the classroom. I quickly moved my hand onto the table and gulped.
“Neither.” I said weakly.
“Then I don’t see why you insist on pushing me.” He said, still not looking up from his papers.
“I…” I stammered. He looked up, his face apparently cool, except for the obvious arousal in his eyes. I held my breath.
“I’m a man of my word, Mr. Iero. Having known me for two years, I’d think you’d know that by now. That means that when I make a threat, however unpleasant it might be, I will go through with it if I’m pushed. I thought you understood that.”
“Yes sir.” I gasped.
“I don’t think you do understand. Otherwise you wouldn’t be so desperate to misbehave.”
“I’m sorry.” I breathed. Holy shit, he was making it worse. He looked at me for a few more moments, his face still cold and a fire still raging in his eyes.
“Everyone but Mr. Iero can leave.” He sneered. The boys at the back whooped with joy, but fell silent at the look on Mr. Way’s face, and filed out silently.

“Mr. Way….I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to…” I whispered, feeling absolutely mortified. He stared at me with the same cold indifference.
“You can leave as soon as you’re finished.” He said, his voice still cold, but softer somehow. I stared at him in disbelief. He wanted me to…seriously? Now?
“Sir, I don’t think I can-“
“Then you’ll just have to stay here, won’t you?” he sighed, turning back to the work on his desk. Despite the awkwardness, my erection still strained uncomfortably in my jeans, and I didn’t doubt for a moment that he really wouldn’t let me leave. Holding my breath, I slid my hand back under the table and started rubbing myself again, being able to do it better now that I could move my arm more freely. I let my head fall back, exposing my throat, and heard Mr. Way moan softly.
“Shit.” I breathed, rubbing myself harder. I looked up and faced him, watching him carefully as he tried to look like he wasn’t paying attention to me – the only thing giving him away was his heavy breathing, and his hands, clenched so tightly that his knuckles were white.
“Sir…Sir please…” I panted, rolling my hips up into my hand. He moaned again, not even trying to hide this one. He ran a hand through his hair as he panted shamelessly, seeming almost like he was trying to calm himself down.
“Ah…Sir, please. It hurts. Please help me.” I heard myself plead, not realizing the words had fallen out of my mouth. His head snapped up and he looked at me in shock, before letting his head fall back.
“I can’t.” he breathed, but it was almost a sob. He rolled his head forward, resting his forehead on his hand.
I was getting close, and the hungry, predatory way he stared at me only made it worse. In a moment of pure bravery, I unzipped my jeans and pulled my boxers down, exposing myself to him.
At any other time, I think I’d have been embarrassed, but now all I could think about was him. I had to cum because he told me to, and because he wanted to see it. My hand stroked quickly up and down my shaft, and I heard his strangled moan when he realized what I was doing.
“Fuck. Fuck.” He breathed, all pretences of disinterest long since dissolved. I saw myself cumming before I felt it, but soon, the strength of the orgasm hit me like a punch in the stomach, as I coated my hand in cum. I moaned loudly, my head falling back as I waited for the throbbing pleasure to stop.

It did stop. And when it stopped, I couldn’t shove myself back inside my pants fast enough. I couldn’t look at him – the shame started creeping over my body now that the arousal was gone. My hands were sticky, and I looked around for something to wipe them with, when he handed me a box of tissues.
“Here.” He said softly. I hadn’t even noticed he’d stood up, but here he was, standing right fucking next to me. I didn’t meet his eyes as I took the box from him, mumbling a thank you under my breath.
“Are you okay?” he said gently, and I was happy to hear the warmth back in his voice. I nodded, but tears welled in my eyes.
“I don’t know what to say.” He sighed, running his hand through his hair. I smiled a little bit, and brought my eyes to his.
“It’s fine.” I breathed.
“I…that was bad. That was really bad.” He said, almost as if that was an explanation. I shook my head.
“No, it wasn’t. I…liked it.” I said, realizing the truth in the words only as I spoke them. He reached out and put his hand delicately on my cheek, his thumb stroking my skin.
“You’re exceptional.” He murmured. It looked, for a moment, like he was going to kiss me. My lips trembled, and I had to stop myself from leaning in. He dragged his thumb across my lips and smiled softly, almost sadly.
“You should get home. Your parents will be worried about you, I’m sure.” He sighed, walking away from me and over to his desk. I stood up slowly and collected my things, walking towards the door and not really knowing how I felt anymore.
“Frank.” He said suddenly. I looked over my shoulder and saw him smirking at me again.
“Please don’t think that this means that my threat doesn’t still stand, because it does. And I think you know now that I will definitely go through with it.”
I laughed and scratched the back of my head.
“Of course, Sir.” I said, smiling and he actually smiled back. Not a smirk, but a smile as bright as the sun that warmed me for my entire journey home.

Notes

I'm sorry, this escalated really quickly and I didn't know it was going to happen until it happened and I'm soRRY.

(But I'm really not sorry.)