Lessons Learned

If someone had told him that, after only a week in his new school, he’d be forced against a chalkboard with his English teacher’s knee grinding urgently into his crotch, Russell Fines would have probably laughed in their face. But he wasn’t laughing right now. Far from it. In fact, the closer Hal Falkner pressed himself against the high school senior, planting one teasing kiss after another, biting at his throat hungrily, Russell couldn’t have laughed even if he’d wanted to.

“I n-need… to go home, I-” Russell tried to protest, but Hal only bit harder at the place where shoulder met neck, making the boy hiss.

“No you don’t.” The teacher chuckled darkly. The sound made Russell blush, a heat rising to his cheeks and elsewhere. He glared, looking away embarrassed.

“Mr. Falkner... You can’t… This isn’t-Ah!” Russell blanched as the teacher slipped a hand beneath the boy’s shirt to pinch tightly at an already hard and frustratingly responsive nipple. Hal smirked.

“If you’re going to keep calling me Mr. Falkner,” he said sternly, voice dripping sensuality in baritone. “Then do as I say.”

“I could… I could report you.” Russell tried desperately, grasping at straws, but the threat was unconvincing, the sound no more than a lame choke of an attempt. “You could go to jail for… for sexual harassment or s-something. I’m just a-” Hal pushed the boys shirt up past his chest, kissing a trail of goosebumps down to his waistband. “-a kid. I’m just kid!”

“If I remember correctly,” Hal replied calmly, alternating between kissing and licking, the line of spit cooling instantly once he moved on to untouched flesh. “You’re eighteenth birthday is today.” He looked up, his eyes smoldering and his grin practically animalistic. “Am I right?” The look on Russell’s face was answer enough.

“But that doesn’t matter w-without consent, so-”

Hal chuckled evilly, letting the boy’s shirt fall back into place as he straightened. “Then give it to me.” Without waiting for a reply, Hal pressed his lips to the boy’s roughly, tongue darting into his stunned and panicked mouth uninvited. For a moment, the boy remained frozen, unresponsive, but something in him reacted of its own accord, his tongue moving timidly against the teacher’s experienced demand, his lips opening wider, greedily. The kiss was broken far too soon, Russell staggering as far back against the chalkboard as he could, barely able to catch up. Hal smirked. “Give me consent.”

Russell looked away from the man, hatred in his eyes, but he said nothing. Even if he couldn’t bring himself to walk away---punch the guy in the face and sprint for his bike---he could damn well show at least some sense of pride and ignore him. That was, after all, the same intentions he’d had since meeting the cocky ass, pathetic excuse for a teacher: go about class unnoticed and ignore that mocking stare, those sarcastic comments. It was only an hour a day; he could manage that much. But he’d never been given the chance.

Russell Fines had been forced from school to school since Junior High; if it wasn’t the fighting, it was bad grades, and if it wasn’t the grades, it was a warrant out for his arrest. It wasn’t as though he was a bad kid, and he was far from stupid. He was merely living proof of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not that it mattered much to him. Cages all looked the same to him, be them barred off, decorated in crappy band posters, or filled with uncomfortable wooden desks. And the people that flitted through them did little to ease the tedium. Russell was far from unattractive with his dark brown hair, always too long and pulled back into a loose ponytail, and his physique was hardly his worst quality; though he never stayed in one hobby for too long, he’d dabbled in everything from various martial arts, to full contact sports, to extreme sports of all dangerous assortments. But it was his eyes that were his crowning glory. And his downfall. Born with one brown and one blue, he’d been picked on furiously as a child and secretly fawned over as a teenager, though he cared little for it, choosing solitude and general “bad-ass” mysteriousness instead; a lack of involvement in others, his solace. At least, until his final attempt at public school.

It had seemed almost normal at first, wandering aimlessly from class to class down whitewashed halls that all looked the same to him, and when he stumbled into his final class, his English class, he expected nothing less. Then he got a good look at the teacher. He didn’t know exactly what made him pause at first, but something about Mr. Falkner left Russell nervous. He was young, which was surprising---no more than 25 or 26 years old, and probably a teacher fresh out of college---and he was the most good-looking of any teacher Russell had had in all his years of school hopping. It was damn near unorthodox to see a teacher that wasn’t graying or homely let alone one in their mid twenties with mesmerizing green eyes, a toned build, and light brown hair streaked with blonde. Almost instantly, they’d noticed each other, Russell with a blush and a stumble to the back of the class, and Hal Falkner with a knowing smirk and an unwavering stare hiding sinisterly behind square-rimmed glasses, glasses that only added to his annoyingly handsome physique.

For a while, nothing happened. For a week, it was no more than Russell’s last class of the day, the class in which he found himself paying more attention to the clock than anything else. And if he wasn’t eyeing the clock, he was eyeing the teacher, enthralled by something he couldn’t place, and agitated with himself for not knowing what that something was to begin with. No. Nothing had happened. Aside from the casual embarrassing moment, calling on him when his hand wasn’t raised, or giving him detention for something trite and unfair, Mr. Falkner had remained no more than a teacher. A dangerously attractive, agonizingly mysterious teacher, but certainly no more than that. And it was because of this fact, that Russell saw no harm, no suspicion in staying after class that Friday.

No, no, no! This was his teacher. His TEACHER. Teachers didn’t do this. Teachers didn’t invite their students to take a seat, only to fake conversation for too many uncomfortable moments before wrenching them from their desk and slamming them against the chalkboard. Teachers didn’t do that. COULDN’T do that. And yet, here he was, his TEACHER suddenly too close, lips crushing his own almost painfully, body heat making Russell squirm beneath his hold. A hold that would not be disobeyed. A hold that eventually, Russell found no will to resist.

“Well?” Hal smirked, amused at how flustered he’d made the boy. Russell only continued to glare, trying his best not to be lured back in to that hypnotizing gaze. “You know, silence is technically as much consent as anything.” Russell glanced suddenly at the teacher, panic rising just briefly past his decision not to speak. But a squeak of protest was all he managed and Hal was on him again, sucking the boy’s lower lip into his mouth and nibbling lightly through the word, “Relax.” Russell scoffed internally, his heart beating far too quickly to relax, his hands shaking so hard he could do little more than grip tightly at the edge of the chalkboard. But even through all this, he couldn’t overlook that one pressing question: Why the fuck wasn’t he leaving?

Hal must have noticed his trembling, kissing almost lightly at the boy’s jaw and whispering, “Just relax. Close your eyes.” It was an order, but it was softer somehow. Like the demand of a master to his apprentice. Or more ironically enough, a teacher to his pupil. Russell obeyed, taking a deep breath and exhaling shakily before doing as told. With his eyes closed, every touch became magnified, every graze of his teacher’s lips against his exposed skin making him shiver. Every bite, every lick, every sound. It was as though his senses were enhanced, zeroing in on each moment, terrified yet equally as desperate for more. A hand slowly, cautiously began to inch below his waistline.

Breathe, he tried to tell himself. Breathe. But as that same hand wrapped teasingly around his cock, already hard and sickeningly hopeful, Russell’s breath caught and his eyes snapped open. “Well, well.” Hal’s face was centimeters from his own, eyes drilling into him maliciously. “For someone so determined not to give consent, you’re certainly enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Shut up.” Russell blushed, narrowing his eyes furiously before looking away again, to which Hal brought his attention back at once with a gentle squeeze. “H-hey!” He choked, but Hal only laughed, rubbing his hand far, far too slowly over the boy’s need as Russell tried desperately to resurrect some semblance of his pride. “And y-you’re not? Here I thought you were straight as they come, hitting on all the girls in class like some dick at a strip club.” Russell braced himself for a rebuke, only to have Hal chuckle lightly in reply, his eyes devilish but his tone amused.

“Russell, Russell, Russell.” Hal groaned, running a thumb over the head of the boy’s arousal almost as a reminder of his control. Russell shuddered, looking up into the man’s eyes nervously. Hal wrapped his hand more firmly around his cock and leaned in, whispering darkly, “I don’t date boys. I just fuck ‘em.”

If Russell hadn’t been completely sure of where the situation was leading before, all his senses pointed to it now, his heart hammering into his throat and his back pushing so far into the chalkboard he thought he’d leave a dent. That’s when Hal bit almost painfully at his earlobe, releasing it at once to lick a trail down to his chin. “I said close your eyes.” He repeated, kissing Russell deeply enough to make the order more reactionary than compliant. Within seconds of doing so, Russell felt Hal’s closeness shift, the man pulling away just enough to get better leverage on Russell’s pants and pull them off his hips. A second of unidentifiable movement followed, and then the tight, hot wetness of Hal Falkner's mouth was all he knew.

There was no fear, no caution, no regret, only that fiery, white promise of pleasure that grew with every graze, every suck, every practiced flick of Hal’s tongue along the shaft and gentle nip at the head. “Sh-shit…” Russell groaned, his knees trembling as he gripped harder at the chalkboard ledge and gritted his teeth. Hal chuckled as he worked, the sound no more than a hum that caused a moan of approval to escape the boy’s lips.

It was over far too quickly. Russell threw his head back against the chalkboard hard enough to see stars, giving no more warning than a half choked, “Fuck!” before his release overtook him, his body tensing as he came, hard, into his waiting teacher’s mouth. The feeling of Hal continuing to suck him dry barely registered in the aftermath of his orgasm, his legs moving of their own accord as Hal eventually got back to his feet and led the boy to the desk, leaning him over it gently. It took the feeling of something far too cold and uncomfortably wet being rubbed into the hole of his ass for the euphoria to fade, reality crashing back into place like a splash of freezing, petrifying water.

Panicked, Russell tried to pull away. “W-wait. Wait! Hold on a second!” But Hal barely flinched.

“If you think you’re the only one getting their happy ending in this, you’re dead wrong, kid.” He smirked, replying harshly through another attempt Russell made to break free of the man’s devastating grip. Ignoring the boy’s jerking below him, Hal placed a finger to the puckered hole, pushing in slowly, admiring the tightness.

“Ah!” Russell cried, hissing against the invasion and tensing up enough to push Hal’s finger completely from his body, shaking.

“This’ll be hell if you don’t-” Hal began to warn, but the boy’s trembling had finally caught his attention. Agitated, he pulled Russell away from the desk to look at his face. “Shit…” He cursed under his breath, letting go of the boy’s shaking arm hard enough to make him stumble. “Ah, fucking hell.” Tears. There were tears in his eyes. Just fucking perfect.

Russell looked up at him, eyes wide with shock. “I don’t…” He started, but Hal’s stare stopped him cold.

“Just get the fuck out of here and go home.” Hal snapped, the anger in his voice making Russell start. When he didn’t move, Hal cursed, stepping up to the quivering boy and grabbing harshly at his pants from where they’d pooled around his ankles, turning him towards the door. “Just put your fucking pants back on and go!”

Russell wasted no time, his body finally catching up to his frazzled and discombobulated mind. Without another word, he pulled up his pants and bolted from Hal Falkner’s classroom, trying desperately to un-see what he’d seen, to undo what he’d done, and pretend as though he hadn’t just been severely violated by his new English teacher. But above all else, he wished he could pretend he hadn’t enjoyed it so goddamn much.

The next three days, he skipped last period, avoiding that hallway as best he could for fear of running into Mr. Falkner accidentally. He didn’t care about classwork or homework; he never did much of that shit anyway. So for all he knew, he could have avoided that teacher for the rest of his last year of high school, take an online course over the summer for the credit, and no one would be the wiser. Except for the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about him. About what they’d done. And the more he thought about it, the less repulsed he was. In fact, the more he replayed that scene in his head, the hotter it became, until just the thought of it made that suddenly all too familiar heat bloom right below his navel. He hated himself for it. But then again, he hated himself for most things, and at least one had perks. So, after struggling through reluctance and self loathing, on the fourth day of his absence Russell waited for the English class to file out, stumbling in once everyone else was gone and closing the door behind him.

Hal Falkner didn’t even look up from his papers. “Don’t bother asking for your assignments. I don’t help kids who skip my class.”

“That’s not why I’m-”

“You can get the homework from someone else. It’s not my job.”

“No, wait. It’s not that. I-”

“Then if you’re looking for another free blowjob, you can get the fuck out now.”

Russell froze, a blush spreading like wildfire across his cheeks. “What? No! I just…”

At this, Hal finally looked up, placing his pen on the desk as though to show that Russell had his full attention. “Then what are you doing here, Russ?” For whatever reason, the sound of his nickname coming from that mouth, the same mouth that had sucked him into oblivion only days ago, made his face grow hotter and his dick twitch excitedly.

“I don’t know… exactly.” Russell mumbled, annoyed with himself that he hadn’t come up with a fake excuse at least. “I just… I felt like I had to come back. And talk to you, I mean.”

“Talk…” Hal smirked, raising an eyebrow at the boy. “All right. I’ll bite.” He motioned to the desk closest to his own. “Let’s talk.”

Russell walked cautiously over to it, taking a seat, the situation instantly too familiar of their last “meeting” after hours. Eager to make some sense of what was going on, Russell blurted, “I can’t stop thinking about you.” Horrified that THAT was the first thing his mouth had decided to say, he looked down at the desk, his cheeks probably hot enough to fry an egg on at that point. “I mean “it”. I can’t stop thinking about “it”. You know… What we…” He cleared his throat, waiting for a too long and much, MUCH too awkward moment before looking back up into that man’s piercing green stare. “Why did you do it?”

Hal stared at him for a moment, his gaze probing, making Russell uncomfortable, until finally, he leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “You were hot.” He winked. “And willing.” Suddenly, something in his eyes changed. “At least, I thought you were.”

For some reason, those words struck a nerve in Russell, a feeling very much akin to jealousy or anxiousness rising up into his chest. Without his consent he mumbled, “I am, I just… I mean, you caught me off guard, and I… Well…” He looked away again, something Hal would come to recognize as one of the few signs of weakness this boy would allow himself to show. “I don’t know why I’m here, really.” Without Russell realizing, Hal stood, moving away from his desk and closer to the flustered boy. “I guess I just wanted… I mean, I don’t know. I guess I just-”

All of a sudden, lips were pressed firmly against his own again, Hal’s tongue delving deep, grazing Russell’s molars and tickling at the roof of his mouth. Russell shivered, opening himself to the kiss, returning it. He even, against his better judgment, found himself reaching for the back of Hal’s head, managing to run his fingers through that blond streaked, light brown hair once before Hal snagged his wrist and pulled it away, breaking the kiss just long enough lick a wet and tickling path from the crook of Russell’s elbow down to his palm.

“This is your last chance,” Hal said suddenly, Russell’s eyes fluttering open though he had no idea when they’d closed. Hal’s stare was like stone, unwavering and brutal. “If you plan on chickening out in the middle again, the time to bail is now.” They held each other’s eyes for a long, painfully indecisive moment before, finally, Russell bit his lip and nodded, brow furrowed cutely as the blush continued to tint his cheeks a comical shade of pink. Hal smirked, seizing his opportunity at once and pulling the kid from his seat to the desk in one fluid motion, knocking some unimportant knickknacks to the floor forgotten.

Before Russell could fully react, Hal was already on him, removing his own shirt and then the boy’s with a speed and precision that made Russell wonder how familiar this sort of situation was to the young, attractive teacher. Hal leaned in, biting aggressively at Russell neck, distracting him, making him groan. But along with that came the words, “Wait. H-hold on a s-sec…”

Hal stopped at once, his eyes narrowing. “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“No, seriously, hold on.” Russell glared, sitting up. “I’m not stopping, I just, well,” He cleared his throat, another sign of weakness that Hal found himself collecting. “Last time you… You gave me…” He scratched nervously at the back of his neck, his blush only growing deeper. He looked away, embarrassed. “And I just thought… I didn’t know if you wanted…”

Hal raised an eyebrow at the boy, stunned. “You…” A laugh escaped him, booming and carefree, the sound surprising Russell in its lightness. “You want to suck my dick.” He laughed again, the idea apparently too amusing for words.

Russell blanched, taking on the offensive. “I just thought it was fair…. That’s all.” He didn't even know why he was offering! Just, something about repaying him... having his mouth full of him... Russell had to stop himself from groaning.

This time, Hal smirked at him with damn near criminal intent. “You’re right. Fair is fair.” Relishing the look of surprise and nervousness that spread across the boy’s face, Hal grabbed Russell and took his place against the desk, leaning back just slightly enough to be comfortable. “So have at it.”

“But I don’t-” Russell squeaked in a way that made Hal laugh. Putting a hand on his shoulder, Hal pushed the boy to his knees.

“It’s not difficult. Just do what I did.” He smiled almost comfortingly, unzipping his pants and grabbing the boy’s hand, leading it, wrapping it around the man’s surprisingly large, already rock hard member. Russell’s fingers shook, though not in the same way as last time, his anticipation actually surprising him. Gingerly, slowly, Russell raised the head to his mouth, touching it to his lips for a moment as though the sensation would help him realize that this was real somehow. Then, slowly, he opened his mouth to the foreignness of it, the musk and flesh and throbbing aliveness of it all, taking it into his mouth as far as he could without gagging.

“That’s it, Russ. Just like that. Oh, fuck yes.” Hal moaned, tilting his head back and gripping his fingers into Russell’s ponytail. “If you nick me with your teeth, I will rip them out and stick them in a jar on my desk.” He added in a hoarse sort of pant as Russell worked his tongue along the shaft like a natural. He hummed a sound he hoped was acknowledgment enough, but Hal merely tightened his grip on the boy’s hair and grunted, “Holy shit…” through gritted teeth. So Russell hummed again. And again. Every time, Hal pulled a little harder on his ponytail, helping the boy by moving his head back and forth, the motion getting more desperate as Hal’s cursing became less and less intelligible. Finally, yanking at his hair hard enough to make Russell cry out, Hal came, spurts of hot cum splattering across Russell’s stunned face and chest. Hal half chuckled half panted, “Not bad, kid.” Russell grabbed his shirt from the floor to wipe away the evidence, taking a sick sort of pleasure in the compliment for a moment before something else grabbed his immediate attention. Hal’s cock was somehow still poised and waiting before him, the man’s eyes still so full of lust. Russell swallowed.

“Thanks for the warm-up,” Hal smirked, pulling the boy from the floor. “Now no more procrastinating.”

“R-right.” Russell nodded shakily, though the panic had begun to rise again. “So let’s… Um… What exactly…? I mean, what should I-”

Hal placed a finger to the boy’s lips, cutting him off. “You talk too much.” He grinned. “Just leave everything to me.” Russell nodded, nervous and excited at the same time, his heart beating wildly against his ribcage. Taking a final second to flash a startlingly charming smile, Hal lowered the boy to the desk, his back crumpling the ungraded test papers as he shifted in hopes of getting more comfortable, to no avail. But in seconds, being uncomfortable was the last thing on his mind. Because, all at once, Hal’s lips were back on his, their teeth clanking and their mouths mashing together roughly as though neither could force their tongues far enough. Somehow, incredibly, Hal managed to remove Russell’s pants and discard them into an unseen corner, his lips never once breaking the kiss. The feeling of the open air against his arousal was dizzying, Russell’s chest falling on a moan that had Hal chuckling into his mouth.

Vaguely, Russell noticed the sound of a drawer being opened, something rustling about for a moment before Hal found what he was looking for. Then, much like a few days ago, the feeling of something cold and wet being rubbed into the puckered and too tense hole of his ass made itself known. Shortly after, a finger. And then another. Russell let his head fall back, his eyes clenched tight and his teeth gritted against the pain.

“Relax,” Hal soothed as he eased another finger into place, Russell hissing in shock. “It’ll feel good, Russ. I promise.” Russell nodded, but didn’t open his eyes, even as Hal pulled his hand away and slung an arm under one of the boy’s knees, bracing them both against the desk and positioning the head of his cock at the entrance to the boy’s waiting hole. “Breathe.” Hal whispered once before pushing in. Russell clenched automatically against the invasion. “Breathe and RELAX,” Hal chuckled, though his tone was strained. Russell did as told, though it was most certainly easier said. Eventually, Russell could feel Hal’s pelvic bone pressing firmly against his ass, the only sign that the pushing was over. For now.

When Hal held him there, burying his face in the boy’s neck, the pain became more than Russell could handle. “Move.” Russell grunted, hoping it would make things a little less uncomfortable, a little less impossible to bear. “Please.” Hal smirked against his skin, a breath tickling at his collarbone.

“You’ve got it, kid.” He panted, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in at twice the speed. Russell arched his back against the motion, his breath leaving him in a rush.

You wanted this. You asked for this, Russell tried frantically to tell himself as Hal thrust in once more. What the fuck were you thi- “Ahh!” He cried out as all of a sudden something sparked inside him, a blaze of fiery, perfect brilliance slicing through him. “Sh-shit!” He gasped, panting in the aftermath of the surprise, eyes widening at Hal, questioning.

“That’s it.” Hal chuckled breathily. “That’s better, isn’t it?” He pulled back and stopped.

Russell squirmed beneath the lack of contact, his body searching internally for that same flash, that same perfect, blissful heat. “Please…” He groaned, not sure what else to do or say to get Hal to move again. Apparently it was all he needed.

“You’d better not scream.” Hal grinned darkly before slamming into the boy, once twice, over and over again, hitting that spot in Russell sporadically and making him bite his tongue to keep from crying out. Once he yelped at a particularly mind blowing thrust, only to have Hal force a hand over his mouth, both of them glancing at the door without breaking their movement. Russell looked back at Hal first, noticing absently that the man seemed almost hopeful that someone would walk in and catch them, though he didn’t remove his hand from the boy’s mouth. Thankful to be muted, Russell allowed the next couple of thrusts to wrench a blissful cry or two from deep inside his chest, Hal reacting accordingly, pounding into him with ruthless abandon.

“Oh, shit, Russ... So tight. Fuck, yes, so perfect. Fuck!” Hal practically growled, reaching in between them and grabbing the boy’s neglected member as he continued to fuck the high school senior, his student, into oblivion.

The added sensation became too much, silencing the boy as he bucked upward into that fist, tensing impossibly and biting at his teacher’s palm as he came, liquid fire exploding onto their stomachs and leaving him numb. Hal bit his lip against his own climax, continuing to force every last drop of himself into the boy. Russell barely registered the sensation at all, the clouds of euphoria far too overwhelming to be dimmed by something as awkward as his English teacher’s seed filling his colon.

For what could have been hours, Hal merely panted over the boy, neither of them willing to speak or move, happy to simply relish the final remnants of their orgasms as long as they could. But eventually, Hal removed his hand from Russell’s mouth and lowered his leg back to the floor, giving no warning before pulling out. Russell winced, but didn’t complain, choosing instead to inch his way down to the floor, pulling his mussed and tangled hair from its disheveled ponytail. He inhaled deeply, trying to still his trembling hands and fluttering heart, recognizing offhandedly that the tile floor was cold against his bare and incredibly sore ass.

“That was…” He started to say, but the sound of his voice in the silence was too alien, too different from the groans and pants and slapping, erotic noises of flesh on flesh from only moments ago. So instead, he chose to smirk, looking up at Hal, who he was surprised to find, had already managed to put all of his clothes back on, the man buttoning the last of the buttons on his shirt before returning the boy’s gaze.

“You should go home.” Hal said simply, his eyes holding no hint of disgust or annoyance. Just fact. Still, on some level, Russell felt hurt. He blushed, grabbing for his pants and slipping them on, cringing at the feeling of sealing in whatever sticky wetness still covered parts of his body.

“Sure.” Russell mumbled, threading his arms through the sleeves of his shirt before getting to his feet. He certainly hadn’t expected so much. Well, maybe he had, but it would have been stupid to expect MORE than that, he tried to convince himself. Foolish and childish. Russell cleared his throat, straightening his shirt, but couldn’t bring himself to turn towards the door. After a moment, Hal walked up to him, their height difference much more evident when they were both standing face to face. Seven or eight inches at least. Tucking a strand of his loose, long brown hair behind Russell’s ear, Hal leaned down and kissed him deeply but far too briefly on the lips.

“I said get the fuck out.” He whispered almost seductively. Russell blushed, nodding automatically through his confusion, through all of the questions Hal's attitude had suddenly inspired in the boy, before making his way out of the classroom.

So he didn’t exactly get what Mr. Falkner was after---not completely anyway---but he had a feeling he’d find out someday soon. Something said that Hal Falkner wasn’t through with Russell yet. That there was something else he wanted from the boy, something Russell didn’t exactly understand. And though he would never admit it, he was anxious, maybe even a little bit eager, to find out what that was.