Teaching Love

This chapter doesn't have smut yet, but hopefully I'll be getting into it next chapter! Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: None! All of these characters are mine!

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Phyllis tapped his pen against the desk as he stared out the window as he ignored the teacher who was droning on and on…

Okay. That wasn’t completely true. He was staring out the window, while focusing on what he could see in the corner of his peripheral vision. And he wasn’t completely ignoring the teacher. True, he couldn’t tell you one thing the man was saying. That didn’t mean he wasn’t listening the enchanting sound of his teacher’s voice.

Mr. Rice was his homeroom teacher and his world history teacher. He loved to talk and had a kind, but playful attitude. He had just started teaching at the ripe age of twenty-four to a bunch of whiney sophomores. While many students liked him initially on the first day, that sort of went down hill.

He was the hardest damn teacher ever. Period. End of discussion. Every time they hit a new culture or a new country to focus on, they had a write a report about it. A ten page report over about it. And he didn’t take crap. He followed the whole ‘Every day it’s late is twenty points off’ policy religiously. He was about as sympathetic as a wall to a person’s problems. Or schedule.

He would just smile ever so pleasantly and say, “Ah, that’s absolutely horrible. If you manage to finish it before class tomorrow you might still be able to pull out a B.”

Yeah, pull out of our asses. Students complained right and left about. They begged, cried, and throw hissy fits. Mr. Rice was following the book, so it was hard for there to be much done against him.

Then his tests where a nightmare. Right out of hell for sure. I think most of us fail. Well, look at that, I lied again. I know most of us failed. Everyone is praying that at the end of the semester he does a curve.

Everyone that could, transferred out of his history class. Except me. I transferred in.

You won’t believe the looks I got for that. Fortunately, everyone figured I did it for Alisha Bettingfield, the most popular girl in school who managed to switch classes because I transferred in.

Works for me, she even waves at me in the halls now. I have absolutely no interest in her. Or anything else with breast and a vagina.

Yep, I’m gay. Completely and utterly gay, who has a crush on the new teacher.

I couldn’t help myself. He’s… attractive. He has an easy smile complete with straight white teeth. His smirks should be reserved only for the bedroom. A nice body, not model material godly, but he’s in shape. His light brown hair shines with health and his dark brown eyes shine with a constant mirth. His fingers are long too. Strong hands, but still graceful that you would imagine creating amazing music on a piano.

Okay. So I have a thing for hands. Hands can do some absolutely amazing things. Very sexual amazing things that as a horny teenager, I am fully capable of appreciating.

Though, what got me so wound up to transfer into this psycho teacher’s class was his voice. It’s a warm tenor that managed to catch your attention. It holds your attention; it trickles into your subconscious forcing you to listen. It echoes in your head over and over. He has a wide range of pitches that convey emotions with ease. His laughs feel like they vibrate through your whole body.

I have it bad. Really, really-

“Phyllis!”

I jumped in my seat and jerked my head up towards Mr. Rice who was now standing right beside my desk. How the hell did I miss that?

“Mr. Rice!” I reply a bit shakily, but I grin nevertheless.

He rolls his eyes. “Do tell us what was going on in your head. It must have been very interesting for you to zone on during my lecture.”

I can’t help myself, I start laughing. I’m in hysterics. If only my teacher knew that the reason I’m not paying attention to him in class is because I’m fantasying about him in my head. I almost want tell him just for the reaction. Almost.

He smiles at me pleasantly. I stop laughing. I know that smile. That’s his ‘I’m going to make you miserable smile’. I know it well. “Stay after class.”

“Yes sir.” I reply quietly as I sink down in my seat. I try to listen to him for the remaining ten minutes of class. Which all I manage to succeed at is becoming fascinated by his hand gestures.

Not surprisingly, I jump again when the bell rings. I get a few snickers, and a few good lucks as everyone hightails it out of class. Well, it is the last period of the day.

I make my way to Mr. Rice’s desk where he’s already sat down at. He doesn’t even look up at me as I stand in front of him for a several minutes.

Fine by me. I like watching him.

I notice his mouth is moving and his melodic voice is present again. Oh, wait. He saying something. “… getting old.” He’s glaring at me. “Listening yet?”

Oops a daisy. “Yes sir.” Wonder if he’d be into roleplaying?

He watches me intently. “You’re a smart kid Phyllis.”

“Oh god, not this spill again.” I snap without thinking. I’ve heard this before. All my life actually, though this would be a first from Mr. Rice.

He blinks a few times, but instead of getting angry he studies me for a long moment. “So I wouldn’t be the first to try and get you to use your potential?”

I just roll my eyes in response which he interprets. “What do you want Phyllis?”

To get screwed by you? Oh wait, can’t say that so… “To get by, I guess.”

“What were you thinking about during lecture?” He tries a different angle.

Whether or not I could come from just your voice? Ha! So instead I pull something out of my ass. “Soccer.”

He snorts. “Now you’re just messing with me.” I grin in amusement. “So who were you fantasying about?”

I’m caught off guard by that question, and I quickly recover by pretending to be disinterested. I know he saw my stunned look though.

“Don’t act like that. I was a teenager not too long ago. Who is it?” He pushes.

I shake my head. “You don’t want to know.” Damnit, what’s the first rule when you get caught? Deny, deny, deny. I repeat to myself.

He stands up and moves to stand behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders. He thinks it’s comforting. I’m imagining him finishing the movement by pushing me forward so I’m bent over his desk.

“Look, I won’t judge you for who you’ll like. I swear I won’t tell anyone.” He’s talking softly now because he’s close.

God, between his voice and being able to feel his body heat I’m starting to feel my body stir. This is bad.

He continues after a pause. “Phyllis…”

I snap at hearing my voice in this setting. “You.”

He pulls back in surprise. “Excuse me?” I glance back at his surprised expression. I have no clue what my own portrays, but I realized I just said way too much.

So I do the only logical thing a boy can do in this situation. I bolt towards the door

Only to get jerked back by the arm before I’ve take more then a few steps. Causing me to stumble back to a body behind me. His arms catch me and hold me up.

I close my eyes. “Let go of me.” I hate that I sound a little bit panicky. I start trying to pull away from him.

I freezes when he wraps his arms around me and pulls me against his body to keep me still. Oh god.

“Calm down.” He sounds a bit out of it too. “It’s alright Phyllis. I’m not… upset.”

“Well I fucking am!” I hiss at him, craning my neck to glare up at him. He’s over a head taller then me so he’s easily looking down at me. “I just admitted I’m gay and I have a thing for my teacher, to said teacher!”

His brown eyes widen in surprise. I don’t want to look at them so I drop my head. “It’s humiliating. I don’t want to look at your face. I don’t want to see your reactions…” Great, that sounded pathetic.

His arms tighten around me. Damnit.

“Your not going to do anything reckless, right?” He asks carefully. What the hell is he worried I’ll do? Attack him and rape him?

“Like what?” I grumble.

“Like… kill yourself.” He sounds worried and hesitates to put that out there.

Oh. So he’s just worried about that. Actually, throwing myself off a cliff sounds pretty good right now. “No.”

He slowly releases me, and I quickly step away from his body. I glance at him over my shoulder. He seems like he doesn’t know how to handle this. Or an emotional me. He looks lost.

It’s a cute look on him.

So I do something reckless. I turn around to face him and grab his tie, jerking his face down towards mine. Crushing our lips together in a kiss.