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The slim boy’s hips swayed with every step he took, tongue slipping out to moisten his lower lip. “Well hello there, Mr. Todd.”
Mr. Todd’s eyes were locked on the sultry look, unable to tear away from the way the boy’s mouth glistened in the low lighting.
“Miss me?”
Mr. Todd had, in fact, missed him, but he knew it would be inappropriate to say. “You should be in class.” It was free period.
“Oh no.” The boy pouted, then straddled Mr. Todd’s lap, thin legs splayed wide over the thicc span Mr. Todd’s thighs. “You’ll have to send me to detention.”
Mr. Todd gulped. “You can bet your sweet little ass that I will.”
The boy started unbuttoning Mr. Todd’s shirt, feeling his nipples stiffen into excited points as every inch of luscious skin was revealed. “Kiss me.”
They kissed.
It was everything the boy had dreamed of. Mr. Todd was so experienced, sliding his tongue into the boy’s mouth and along his cheek, then up over the roof of his mouth. The boy shuddered, all of his hairs standing on end. It felt so good. It was like basking naked in the sun, except they weren’t naked yet.
A tragedy.
They boy scrambled to fix that, ripping Mr. Todd’s shirt open and sending buttons flying across the room, much to Mr. Todd’s despair. (How would he hide the evidence now?)
“Oh, Mr. Todd!” The boy cried out in ecstasy as Mr. Todd licked down the length of his neck, mouth like warm, moist velvet as he sucked blooming marks like deep red flower petals into the boy’s skin.
Mr. Todd groaned, pulling the boy closer and yanking at his hair erotically.
He scraped his dull nails down Mr. Todd’s chest, reaching the waistband of his pants and wasting no time in unbuttoning and pulling them open. Mr. Todd’s thick bratwurst was clearly outlined by his skin tight briefs, and the boy was enraptured as he pulled the elastic back to reveal that girthy length.
Mr. Todd pulled back to watch the boy’s expression as he took in the uncut lovedart, precum already welling at the top where the head peeked out. The boy traced his fingers along it reverently, feeling the muscles twitch, then dipped his finger into the precum and brought it up to his mouth to suck on.
“Good?” Mr. Todd asked, genuinely curious.
The boy nodded.
“Want more?”
The boy nodded again, scrambling back to get down between Mr. Todd’s thicc naked thighs.
He sucked Mr. Todd’s candystick down in one fell swoop, suppressing his gag reflex with a swallow just to hear Mr. Todd groan. Pulling off, he licked a stripe from the base to the head, then took the head back into his mouth.
He pushed the foreskin back with his tongue, laving over the tip, and was rewarded with a squirt of precum. It was salty, but not entirely unpleasant, so the boy bobbed his head up and down to try and get more.
“Hnnnn!” Mr. Todd moaned.
The boy’s balls tightened, knowing he was bringing Mr. Todd so much pleasure.
Mr. Todd started fucking into his mouth, entering his throat repeatedly and groaning at the feel of that moist cavern. His cock was practically weeping as the boy sucked him off, and before long he had to pull the boy off entirely, not wanting to cum yet.
The boy whined in so much need, blinking up at him with glistening orbs, lips plump and cheeks flushed.
“God you’re so pretty.” Mr. Todd pushed two fingers into the boy’s mouth, groaning when he instantly started suckling on them.
Mr. Todd pushed him back a little, divesting them both of the rest of their clothes. The boy automatically moved to his hands and knees, presenting his shyly winking rosebud to his lover.
Mr. Todd sucked on his fingers some more, then rubbed them over the boy’s tight puckered hole.
“Take a deep breath for me, baby boy.” He whispered, then pressed them in with only a little resistance. The boy had already prepped himself before coming. He scissored his fingers just to make sure, but the boy had done a good job.
Spitting into his hand, Mr. Todd slicked up his maypole before pressing the head against the boy’s entrance.
“Wait!” The boy yelled. “We need condoms!”
Mr. Todd paused. “I don’t have any with me, but I was tested recently and I’m clean. Are you?”
The boy blushed. “Yes. I’m a virgin.”
“Then do we need one?”
“I guess not…” [AN: Bullshit, always use a condom my dudes]
Mr. Todd pressed forward with his fuckpole until the head popped in, then thrust the rest of the way into that molten heat with a groan. The boy was so tight, so perfect, it was like fireworks were lighting up behind his eyelids.
He pulled out, then slid back in with a wet sound, and the burning stretch of it made the boy moan.
“Omg, you’re so… you’re so big!! Give me more of your battering ram, please, sir! ”
Mr. Todd spit down onto the boy’s crack, letting it slide down and fall into the boy’s hole to help them slide together easier, then he started thrusting in earnest.
“Ahhhh!!” The boy screamed, bracing himself on his forearm. His other hand slipped down to tug at his cock that was slick with precum.
Mr. Todd’s grip was so tight, the boy could feel his fingertips biting bruises into his hips, and that made it all the better. Every thrust was angled perfectly; it was like a prostate seeking meat missile, and it was all the boy could do to not collapse with every thrust.
It felt so good!!
Then Mr. Todd pulled him back, shifting until the boy was sitting on his lap, still pierced by his beef baton.
Big hands came up to rest on his shoulder blades as the boy sat there uncertainly, then Mr. Todd said, “Lean back, and pull your legs up.”
As soon as the boy was ready, Mr. Todd spun him like a top, balanced precariously on his thick cigar. It was a wild mess of sensations, and the boy gasped, hands flying out to catch himself on Mr. Todd’s chest.
His lover reached up and traced a finger over the high arch of his cheekbone. “I wanted to see your face.”
Overcome with emotion, the boy leaned down and pressed their mouths together. Their tongues battled for dominance before the boy gave in, letting Mr. Todd explore his mouth.
It was almost a surprise when his teacher started thrusting, renewing the molten heat inside his belly.
"Mmmm!!!" The boy moaned, pushing back onto the beastus maximus rearranging his insides. His asshole fluttered around the constant invasion, hungry for more.
He pushed up, separating their mouths in favor of driving himself back onto Mr. Todd’s fat sausage, nearly screaming as the other man’s hips thrust up to meet him.
With the solid support of the floor, the boy started bouncing in place, driving them both towards their finish. Bounce, bounce, bounce he went on daddy’s long leg. Every rebound drove the boy to a higher plane of pleasure. Higher and higher he went, until finally he came undone and his vision whited out so hard he actually blacked out, screaming in pleasure as ropes of cum painted his lover’s chest.
Mr. Todd grasped his hips as the boy went limp, shoving his body up and down like a particularly large cocksleeve as he chased his release. When he finally came, it was like a volcano going off inside the boy’s cavern, hot and explosive, and so much of it that it squelched out and Mr. Todd’s hips ground up against the boy’s ass.
The boy clenched down on his goo blaster as best he could, milking his lover for all his worth, wanting every last drop of that precious seed.
At last, they stilled. The sweat dripping down their bodies was rapidly cooling them off, and the boy grinned, still slightly out of breath.
“So. Does that count as my detention? Or do I have to cum again later?”
Jason drops the paper, burying his face into his hands. What. The everloving fuck. Did he just read??
He works as a lit teacher at an all-boys boarding school. He has seen his fair share of shit, but this… this is something else entirely.
He feels almost nauseous, and part of him wants to bash his head into his desk for actually finishing the damn thing—brain bleach would have been needed either way, but now he kind of just wants to give himself minor brain trauma and hope that erases the memories. Not that he’ll ever be able to forget… this.
He flips back to the cover page, because he doesn’t actually remember who wrote it and this will require some kind of conference. And counseling. And maybe a job change.
Tim Drake.
Jason’s instantly flabbergasted. How the fuck did tiny Tim write filth like this? Poorly written filth, at that. The kid was always so quiet in class, and he never turned in anything late or half finished. This has to be a mistake of some kind.
The assignment title and due date underneath his name aren’t right either, and suddenly a rather unfortunate picture begins to form in his mind. The school servers aren’t technically private, and student’s documents can be accessed by any of the administration at any point in time, so if Tim wanted to indulge in his… hobby, he’d have to give it a false face at the very least. And the fake class number on the paper is unfortunately close to Jason’s course code, so if the poor boy had printed it in a rush…
Jason grimaces, then looks at the clock. His next class starts in ten minutes, and Tim’s class period is the one after that. He really should inform the principal about this, get Tim’s parents involved and potentially transfer Tim to Mr. Whitmore’s lit class, but Tim is such a good student normally. He’s new to the school this year, and is just now settling into the school culture and making friends. Randomly changing classes halfway through a semester would gain a lot of negative attention, assuming he didn’t get expelled.
Groaning again, Jason curses every step of his life that brought him to this moment. Why did he always get the crazy shit? Maybe he should take a page from Mr. Whitmore’s book and start wearing sweater vests with mustard stains and spend class time lecturing on conceptual literature instead of giving the kids real examples.
He grimaces even before he finishes the thought. Yeah, how about no. He’ll just have to figure out something…
“Hey, Tim?” Jason calls out, making Tim pause on his way to the door. “Mind staying for a second?”
“Oh, sure! Is something wrong?” Tim hitched his bookbag up higher on his shoulder, making his way towards the teacher’s desk.
Jason waits for the last student to exit the classroom, then pulls the packet of papers out of his desk. “It’s about your report…”
When Jason doesn’t immediately continue, Tim’s eyebrows furrow in concern. “Is it okay? I tried to stick to the rubric, but I know I can rabbit-trail at times.”
“Just take a look.” Jason hands him the papers, watching as Tim flips to the second page where the content begins. It takes all of two seconds for Tim to freeze, blood draining from his face. “Yep.”
“Oh my god,” Tim breathes, not looking up from the page, frantically flipping through them as if that might change what was printed on them.
“Yeah, so that’s something that I never wanted to read, and I doubt you ever wanted me to read it.”
“Oh god no!” Tim finally looks up, eyes huge with panic. “I didn’t mean to—you weren’t supposed—!”
“Uh huh. Well. If you were anyone else, I’d be notifying the principal, scheduling a group conference with your parents, and transferring you to another teacher—assuming that Principal Hinkleman didn’t try and transfer you to another school.”
Tim pales even further, stumbling backwards a step.
“However,” Jason continues, “since I believe that this was an honest mistake, and because of your record and how well you engage in class, this is what I’ll do: you take that paper and destroy it. I will pretend that this is what you submitted.” He pulls out a new packet and flicks it open, holding it so that Tim can see the barely-formatted text. “It’s literally a blog post that I copied and pasted from wordpress, so you will get a zero for plagiarism. You’ll take five plagiarism remediation classes, and you can make up this grade later in the semester. You’re also going to sign up for Mr. Whitmore’s class next semester, not mine, and we’ll never speak of this again. Clear?”
Tim nods, looking miserable. “Yeah. But… does it have to be plagiarism? I’ve never plagiarized anything in my life, and that stays on your record, doesn’t it?”
Jason looks at him flatly. “Listen, kid. You just gave me your self-insert porn of me, instead of an analysis of literary devices used in Julius Caesar. Your options are to accept my very generous offer, or I bring it to Mr. Hinkleman’s attention, which will include giving your parents a copy of your very creative writing. So, suck it up, and go to your remediation classes. This is high school, not college. The plagiarism isn’t going to stick to your record since we’re the ones supposed to teach you how to avoid it.”
Tim’s face is flaming red, and Jason feels a bit satisfied. At this point he’s ready to go to extreme measures to kill the kid’s crush, and this is the first of what will have to be many steps.
“I understand, sorry sir. I really didn’t mean for this to happen,” Tim mumbled, turning even more red as the first groups of students entered for Jason’s next class.
Jason leans back, grabbing a scrap piece of paper to scrawl a quick note. “Good. Now get out of here. You can give this to your next teacher if you’re late.”
Tim took the excuse, then hurriedly stuffed the report into his bag.
“Oh, and Tim? For the love of god, take Mrs. Elwood’s creative writing class. You could really use it.”
Tim flushes even darker red, then scurries away.
Jason breathes a sigh of relief when he leaves, already mentally exhausted and knowing that he still has three more classes to teach today. He subtly pulls out his phone, shooting a text off to Roy, the archery instructor.
J: I need alcohol. And a lobotomy.
Roy, unsurprisingly, responds immediately.
R: I’m qualified to give you one of those. What happened?
J: I’ll tell you after my third shot.
R: 👍
Putting his phone away, Jason shook his head and tried to get back into the right frame of mind.
He definitely deserves a pay raise after that.