Archive of Our Own

Monday

--

At the click of his camera, a bright and startling flash caught the eyes of students from all over the crowded halls. Toby Rogers quickly dove back around the corner, sucking in a sharp breath. That stupid light, he always forgot to shut it off.

The boy clicked through the menu and squinted, gauging if the picture was still usable through furrowed brows. It was slightly streaky, filled with bodies he didn't mean to catch, but he was still there in dead center. The man was frozen mid-turn, dressed in a blue button-down tucked into his brown slacks with a black leather belt cinching it all together. Toby sighed, slipping down the wall and huddling into his knees.

He swiped through photo after photo, catching every twitch in his face, or twist of his head. The man didn’t like growing his beard out and kept a clean-shaven chin with trim sideburns to match. It was how the boy recognized him.

When he’d first met him, Toby couldn't even remember his name. He couldn't say it either, not with his damned stutter.

Since starting a new job, his mother has had less time to monitor his homeschooling. It didn't help that his father was getting worse with drinking and staying up late after work, distracting Toby from his classwork. Admittedly, he was slacking on assignments, but it was nothing he couldn't finish on his own when the man was away. His mother disagreed, and after countless arguments, she finally decided to enroll him in high school.

It was a nerve-wracking first few days as a freshman. He met with an advisor, said a quick and sorrowless goodbye to his mother, and was dragged around the giant campus, learning all the new routes, all the teachers' names, and being handed paper after paper of classwork he needed to catch up with his peers. 

The movies were right; the kids were mean, the teachers were strict, and the campus was a maze. Toby begged his mother to let him back into homeschool by the end of the week. His mother almost went through with it after Toby returned home, red in the face from tears he held in all day. She gave him one more day; he’d either stick it out or be pulled out of class.

He gave it his all, but by the end of the day, he couldn't muster the strength to endure his last class. Everyone made him feel stupid and slow, giving him looks when he responded incorrectly to their conversations. And forget about making friends; no one knew or liked the shows he watched, or the games he played, or the songs he listened to. It was like everything he did was incorrect.

So he skipped seventh-period Biology with the impatient and demanding Dr. Nyras and elected to hide for the rest of the day. He waded through the crowds of students, both bigger and taller than him, until he spotted a bathroom farthest from any unwanted attention.

Even the bathrooms felt alienating. The boys in there stared at him as if he had interrupted them, and even after he locked himself in the stall, he still felt their gazes through the thin stall doors. He heard a soft hiss and an exhale shortly after, followed by a sickly sweet scent wafting up his nose.

They were smoking in the bathroom. Perfect.

The boy scrunched his face, burying his nose in his shirt. Nowhere in this stupid school was safe, nowhere private, nowhere to hide. It was suffocating, even without the sweet-smelling smoke.

When the final bell rang, the boys in the stall didn’t move either, mumbling to themselves with the occasional soft laugh. Seems like they would be skipping out of class, too. Toby hiked his legs up, laying his bag on the floor, and sighed.

Just another hour, and he would never have to come back. He kept counting down the minutes it would take for him to leave, repeating over and over that this was just temporary and he would be home soon and this nightmare would never bother him again.

That was, until keys jingled from outside the bathroom, and a booming voice called, “Time's up. If I can’t smoke here, then neither can you."

The boys went silent, going still. From the stall, Toby could hear a pin drop from another class. They didn't move, but neither had the man outside.

“Alright,” he mumbled. “I’ll cut you a deal. I’m gonna shut my eyes and count to five, and if I still see you in the bathroom, you’re getting suspended.”

There was a moment of hesitation where each of them held their breath. Toby’s eyes lit up. Being suspended would solve his problem once and for all. He would have to be brought back to homeschool.

“One…”

The boy’s shoes squeaked against the tile floor as they raced out of there, their footsteps carrying beyond the hall until they disappeared beyond. The man stopped counting, a soft laugh leaving his lips.

“That’s what I thought,” he heard the man mumble.

His heavy steps carried him into the bathroom, keys jingling with him. Toby didn’t move, lying his head on his knees and listening as each stall door opened one at a time, the hinges squeaking and hitting the walls.

Finally, his stall door was pushed, but it didn’t move. The man paused, stepping back. Toby's bag was in plain sight, sitting on the floor beside the toilet. The man sighed.

“C’mon, get outta there.”

Toby unfurled himself from his ball and slid the lock open. He poked his head out, mustering the biggest puppy eyes to keep the man from being too hard on him. At first, the man’s gaze was harsh, hands on his hips. He stood taller in recognition, his face softening as he spoke.

“Toby?”

He failed to recognize him at first, furrowing his brows as he combed his brain for answers. It was those sideburns that made him realize.

Mr. White… or no, Mr. Wright? Whatever his name was, Toby recognized him as his third-period English teacher. He was as nice as it got, or so he heard. Mr. Wright sat him at the front of his class when he first walked in, reassuring the boy that he wouldn't let him feel left out. All it did was make him anxious, setting twenty eyes to bore into the back of his head.

It didn’t look like punishment was in order, and instead, the man bent down, trying to meet his gaze.

“What are you doing here? Didn’t you hear me?”

Toby looked down, grabbed his bag, and lifted it over his shoulder.

“I-I did,” he said. “I want to be suspended.”

The man raised a brow, letting out a laugh.

“Okay?” he laughed. “Were you smoking?”

“Ew, no,” Toby spat.

“Good. Then you’re going to class,” he said, standing taller and already heading for the exit. “C’mon, I’ll walk you. You remember where it is?”

Toby didn’t move, furrowing his brows. Ugh, it was worse than he thought. The man was too nice. The boy was gonna leave with a slap on the wrist, or worse, a gold star.

“N-No, actually, I was smoking,” Toby said.

“Don’t say that. If someone hears you, you'll get us both in trouble.”

“Yeah, I want to get in t-trouble.”

“What for?"

"So I can stop going to school."

"Sorry, buddy, but that's not how it works. You'll have to come back eventually. Government says so," he said.

"Then I'll get suspended again."

"Why?"

“Cos I don’t want to go to school anymore,” he said.

Mr. Wright’s smile fell, and his shoulders sagged, a soft sigh leaving his lips. Instead of pushing him, the man leaned against the wall, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Why not?”

Toby knew where this was going; probably a long talk about why Toby shouldn’t feel like that, that he should reframe his thoughts, or think positively. It was a bogus way to get him to bottle up his feelings and deal with them privately. But he would do no such thing, and if the man is as kind as everyone said, then he would make him live to regret it.

“I hate it here,” he grumbled. “I hate the loud bells, and the hundreds of students bumping into me all the t-time. I hate having to remember everyone, and learn so many things at once, and keep t-track of all these books and projects and assignments. It's all stupid!”

The man nodded slowly, taking every word in, and hesitated as he thought of his next answer. Obviously, it wasn't something the man expected. Toby hadn't spoken a word above a whisper since they'd met, and if the man hadn't interrupted his plan, it would've stayed that way.

“We can fix that,” Mr. Wright finally said. “If you'd ask, I'm sure the other teachers could help you out, give you extensions, and tutoring-"

“They don't even like me!” Toby cried. “Every t-time I ask for help, they t-tell me to ask a 'friend' or reread the notes. And no one answers me when I ask, either; it's like I'm always bothering them and their stupid friends. I feel so… out of place. Like I don’t belong.”

Toby didn’t expect the man to understand. School’s more important than petty friendships; it gets you through life, blah, blah, blah. But it was the only thing he looked forward to. He could learn to cope with the big workload, learn the names of his teachers, and build a better rapport, but none of it would be worth it if he had no one to look forward to. The only thing that could make public school worth something was meeting, even just one, person who could smile in his presence, wave, and talk to him like they did in the movies. Someone to turn to, someone to scheme with, anyone. But the long week proved useless as he still had no one.

It was stupid to think that would change in the first place. He did just fine on his own anyway, cooped up in his room by himself, where no one could stare at him like he was stupid or make him feel shame for existing.

Well, except for his dad. But that would be one person, and not an entire class.

“So, what else would you do? Where would you go?” Mr. Wright asked.

“Back to homeschool. I already t-told my mom. She says she’s gonna place me back by Monday. I was better off there anyway.”

“But wasn’t that lonely?”

Toby dug his foot into the tile. “It was. But, at least I knew how to handle it.”

“But it can’t stay like that forever,” he said. “You need to meet kids your age and get used to seeing them, to working in groups and communicating. Being alone can’t be good for you.”

Toby knew that better than anyone. He'd gotten comfortable talking to himself ever since his sister got into college. Without her, he paced around the empty house with his active imagination filling the silence. And change was always inevitable in his family. What he found was that if he had a corner to back into and hide his face even for just a moment, he could escape the feeling of uncertainty. Hiding was what he was used to, and familiarity was something he clung to. He could handle himself, and that would help him in the long run.

“If you felt like you belonged here, would you change your mind?”

Toby looked up, raising a brow.

“Why?”

“Cos I can give you a suggestion. If you’re willing to take it.”

The man gestured to the bathroom entrance, allowing Toby to go first. He supposed he would have to follow, hoping for a trip to the principal's office. They walked silently down the English hall and into Mr. Wright's empty classroom. Toby waited at the door as the man dug through his drawers, shoving papers aside before he found what he was after: a small, red, folded paper.

“I had an extra lying around,” he started, handing it over. “Mr. Kralie is a friend, kind of, and I owe him a favor. He said to hand it to anyone who looked responsible enough.”

It was a pamphlet, reading in bold red text: "Join the A/V club!" There were flyers on a bulletin board in the cafeteria advertising generic clubs: cheerleading, culinary arts, music, and painting. He'd never seen this one hanging up there, or maybe he had and missed it under all the shiny letters and bold words. For an arts club, the level of effort for the pamphlets was lacking.

When he flipped it open, the photos spoke for themselves. They were professional, documenting the sports teams, STEM students, choir, and band. A few shots displayed the tech the students used, a backroom for editing, and large dollies used by students. In the bottom corner was a shot of nerdy-looking students, older than him, holding cameras and a small award. Toby didn't think too highly of himself, but he hoped he didn't get scouted because he looked nerdy enough to fit in with these people.

“So?” Mr. Wright asked.

“This looks d-dumb," Toby said, but stuck it into his bag anyway. "I could learn all this stuff by myself."

“So you'll look into it?” he asked.

He doubted it, but he had nothing better to do.

That had to be a couple of months ago. His mother was shocked at the turnaround when he returned home with the pamphlet, asking to hold out on homeschool for one more Monday. Out of spite, he spent the weekend reading up on basic cinematography on his laptop, a hand-me-down from his sister Lyra. He watched hours of content about camera angles, shots, the rule of thirds, and anything else that would be taught in that class to prove to himself that he could learn it all by himself.

But the more he read, the more interested he became. It looked fun to work in a group where everyone had a part to play. It looked impossible to be the odd man out when all the teachers and students were relatively nerdy and spoke with a monotone cadence. And best of all, Toby could see himself becoming a part of something important.

He surprised himself and Mr. Wright when he arrived at Mr. Kralie's class on Monday morning, pamphlet in hand.

It got easier day by day. He started remembering names, crawling out of his antisocial shell, and discovered his homeschooling had paid off, making him top of his class. The boy still struggled to make friends even in the club, but at least he had someone to look forward to in the halls outside the club room and his third-period class.

Mr. Wright checked up on him whenever he could. Asking him how his morning was, how his breakfast was, how his day was going, and how the kids treated him. Toby always answered as best he could, framing the answers in a better light before he worried the man. It was how Toby got to know more about him. His favorite color: green. His shirt size: extra-large. His favorite music: he couldn’t decide if it was punk or rock.

Quickly, the man became an obsession. Toby's heart fluttered, and his knees turned to jelly whenever he saw the man leaning on the wall outside his classroom during passing period. It was only a smile and nod for the other students, but when Toby showed up, the man's eyes seemed to twinkle, and he smiled a little wider.

"Good morning, Toby."

It made the boy sick and stupid and smiley. Mr. Wright never left his mind either. When Toby returned home with the SD card, he uploaded his favorites to his laptop. He changed his background all the time, circling between photos he'd taken over the month.

He was lucky Mr. Kralie gave him a camera. Even the older students weren’t allowed to take one outside of class. He didn’t trust them, Mr. Kralie said. Toby, on the other hand, had a pretty flawless record. He was tasked with snapping photos of the senior football players, the basketball teams, the cheerleaders, and the student council members; boring stuff. Toby did what he was told, of course, but the moment he found a break, he pointed the lenses back to the familiar man.

He was so photogenic, a spectacle in every picture the boy took. He usually caught him leaning on the wall during hall duty, preventing students from wandering before the bell rang. Sometimes he found him chatting with the other teachers, giving a nice smile for his camera. Toby accidentally learned his schedule, remembering the make and model of his car, parked in a far corner of the parking lot. He also discovered the man had a bad habit.

It was his favorite photo; he snagged it just before he left for first period. The man had just parked the car and stood by the open door, a thin cigarette sitting between his lips as he took a final pull. Toby didn’t think twice, capturing it on camera just before the man budded it out on the ground. That photo had become his lockscreen, permanently greeting him every time he opened the camera.

Toby dragged his finger against the screen at yet another memorable photo. If he pressed his nose close enough to the screen, he could imagine what he smelled like. Maybe pine from a cheap cologne, or like a warm dive bar with the heady scent of cigarettes lingering on his dark hair-

“You headin’ to class anytime soon?”

Toby jumped, fumbling with the camera in his hand. He caught it, thankfully, and whipped around, tilting his head up. In the light, he was blinded, but as he shielded his eyes, his stomach dropped.

Mr. Wright was leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, staring down with a raised brow. How long had he been there? God, did he see anything?

“Oh!” Toby chirped. “Y- Yeah, yeah, I was just… uh… just ch-checking the, uh…”

“The pictures?” he guessed. “Got anything good?”

“No!” he shrieked, snapping the camera shut. He giggled awkwardly, clearing his throat as he pulled his bag over his shoulder. “I mean, yeah, b-but I can’t show you, heh. Club rules. Sorry."

“Yeah, Mr. Kralie runs that place like it’s the freakin’ navy,” he said with a snicker. “How are you likin’ it?”

Aside from the bigger workload, Toby liked that it gave him a better rapport with the other students. Instead of being the weird, quiet loser, he was now the weird, quiet loser with a camera too big for his hands. But at least they liked the attention, and that put Toby in the clear.

“It’s good,” he said. “Everyone is nice, and, uh, Mr. Kralie is going easy on me.”

“None of the seniors giving you a hard time?” he asked.

“No, not r-really."

The answer depended on what he considered a 'hard time'. Some of the seniors still kept him from helping, not trusting his clumsy hands for good reason. And they certainly didn’t let him into the editing room after they finished recording the morning events. Though it wasn’t like he wanted to be there anyway; it stunk of sickly sweet Blue Raz, and Banana Coconut. He was getting sick and tired of how much everyone smoked on campus.

“Well, if you find them, send them my way, and I’ll have Mr. Kralie handle them.”

Toby nodded, knowing he wouldn’t heed that advice. The last thing he wanted was to be alienated even more.

The final bell rang, shaking Toby from his stupor. Shoot! Class started, and he still had the camera. Well, his teacher wouldn’t miss it as long as he returned it after school.

“Uh, I g-g-gotta go,” he said. “I’m already late.”

“Right, sorry. I held you up,” he said, scratching at his neck. “Why don’t I walk you down? Ms. Milens’s class isn’t too far.”

Toby looked up, tilting his head.

“Won’t you be late for your class?”

“A little, but I won’t get ISS for being tardy,” he said. He gestured with his head, taking off down the hall.

The boy decided there was no harm, and why wouldn’t he want to walk with his favorite teacher for a minute? He hopped along, holding the camera with both hands, before he had another accident.

He led him all the way to the closed classroom door, the empty hall full of muffled teachers' voices as they began their lessons. It was like Toby had his own escort around campus, reminding him of the first time he wandered the halls with the man. 

“How’d you know?” Toby asked.

“I’m sorry?”

“How’d you know I had Ms. Milens next?”

The man hesitated for a moment, chuckling as he fixed his hair from his eyes.

“You told me before.”

Toby had no recollection of that, and he usually memorized all of their conversations. But it seemed innocent enough that it may have slipped his mind. Mr. Wright wouldn’t lie to him after all.

“And since I have you, I’ve been wanting to ask…” he said. “Your latest essay? Wasn’t the strongest.”

Toby shrank into his navy jacket, averting his gaze. The boy planned on bringing it up himself, apologizing personally for such a messy paper, but he hadn’t thought of a way to ask for a second chance yet. It kept slipping his mind when all he could think about was the man’s soft goodbye as the boy left for his next period. He hadn’t even considered that the man would approach him first.

“I know,” he mumbled, an inflect higher than usual.

“Hey, that’s alright,” the man started, his strong hand overtaking Toby’s shoulder and turning him around to face him. Mr. Wright bent at his knee, meeting Toby’s eyes, and offered a kind smile. “Was it something you didn’t understand, or…?”

“No, I just…”

Toby remembered. It was a week's worth of his father’s benders, drinking and shouting, and shoving. The boy tried to block it out, but it all proved useless. It left Toby with nothing but a half-assed essay on Hatchet filled with angry rambling. Toby never even bothered to check his grade, allowing himself to be blissfully ignorant.

“N-Never mind,” Toby mumbled. “It was me. I couldn’t, uh, f-focus.”

There was a twitch in the man's eye, and he squinted in thought.

“Was it… something external?”

“What’s that mean?”

“Like outside of your control.”

Toby nodded. “Yeah, kinda.”

“Family?”

“Yeah…”

“You can tell me,” he said. “I’m here to help.”

Toby didn’t know why he continued to bite his hand, hiding away from his eyes. He didn’t like to give himself hope. Many times before, he’d confided in social workers, officers, and doctors. It never ended the way it was supposed to; Dad always came home and left him and his family in worse shape.

“I can’t t-tell you,” Toby mumbled. “I’ll get in t-trouble.”

“I can keep a secret."

Toby didn’t know what to say, and the man’s touch lingered long enough to have the boy shying away, hiding behind his fringe of hair. Mr. Wright seemed to catch on, slowly lifting his hand to give the boy some room.

“Uh, tell you what,” he started. “Are you busy after school?”

Toby shook his head. He didn’t have much to look forward to aside from his father’s angry ramblings.

“Then, would you like to stay for after-school tutorials? Only, if you want to, of course.”

Toby’s eyes lit up, and he grinned from ear to ear. Well, it sounded much better than staying at home. It sounded even better knowing he would be alone with the man.

“Really?” he asked, mentally scolding himself for being too loud. “Uh, well, I’d have to ask my mom first. I won't have a ride home until later."

“That's fine, I got time," he said. "I’ll be in my class. I’d appreciate it if you stopped by and let me know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll, uh, be there.”

Mr. Wright chuckled, ruffling the boy’s hair.

“I’ll, uh, see you there,” he teased.

Then, he pulled the classroom door open for Toby to walk in. Just like he said, Ms. Milens accepted the excuse and allowed the boy to catch up with the class. Toby waved goodbye, wondering for the rest of the day what the boy could’ve possibly done to deserve that.

--

Toby dropped off the camera as he promised, but instead of heading down to the bus lines, he took a detour towards the English wing. The walk over felt like a breath of fresh air, and Toby felt important as he skipped the exit everyone was leaving through. He knew the path by heart, but today felt strange. His heart beat faster with every step he took.

He stopped just outside of the classroom, taking a deep breath as he checked himself over. His shirt had rumpled at the edges from his anxious picking, and his collared shirt felt too tight around his neck. He groaned and patted his shirt down, smoothing his pants, and stood taller.

This wasn’t a date; it was just for extra credit, so he could fix his grade and eventually go to a good college or whatever. But it was nice to pretend for a while.

Then, he turned the handle, but it didn’t give.

The boy knocked on the door, peaking through the window. The desk was out of view, tucked in the far corner where the window couldn’t see. From outside, it looked like an empty classroom.

That was, until he heard keys jingling within, and stepped back to find the man pulling the door open with a kind smile.

“Hey, kid,” he greeted. “I was wondering when you’d show.”

“Sorry, I had to t-take the camera to Mr. Kralie, and there was a lot of tuh- traffic,” Toby said. "My mom said she can get me around five, if that's okay?"

“Perfect, we'll have plenty of time.”

The man held the door open, allowing Toby to step into the empty classroom. It was quiet, very quiet. He’d never been early enough to see it empty, and the echo of the man’s voice was unheard of within the walls.

Mr. Wright’s keys jingled as he shook the door handle, locking it back up. Toby curiously looked up at the man.

“Gotta lock it, or else the door will slide open. Been waiting for maintenance to fix it,” he said with a sigh. “‘Till then, you’re locked in here with me.”

Tim’s face winced, rethinking the words after he said them. Toby giggled. It didn’t sound half bad to him.

“Go ahead, take a seat,” the man said.

Toby chose the desk closest to the man’s, setting his bag against the chair.

“No, no, not there,” he said with a chuckle. “C’mon, it’s just us.”

Toby watched the man walk behind his desk. He pulled out his brown leather desk chair and sat down. He patted the back of another seat pulled beside him, a regular blue plastic chair.

“You can sit with me.”

Carefully, the boy stepped behind his desk, admiring the view from here. He felt so professional, staring out at the other seats and imagining the other students' backs turned. He spotted his desk, and from the angle, he was perfectly centered for the man to see. Toby wondered if that was on purpose.

Toby sat down, placing his hands on the desk. Scattered above were small knick-knacks, a pencil holder, and stacks of office supplies that the man freely passed to students. It looked more like an office desk than a teacher's desk, bare of family photos and personalized items.

“You’re still too far. Do you mind if I…?”

Mr. Wright pulled the boy’s chair closer without warning. The boy’s body jerked from the force, holding onto his seat. It was like he weighed nothing to the man.

“There, better,” Mr. Wright said.

Their legs were inches apart, and if Toby so much as twitched, they would be brushing against the older man’s. He looked up at Mr. Wright, who seemed to catch that too, but he didn’t mention it. He opened a beige manila folder set aside with the handwritten essay Toby turned in beside a fresh worksheet.

His essay was filled with red words, red X’s, and red question marks. In a red circle on top of the page was a grade of 42 out of 100.

“So, your topic ideas were great, very strong,” the man started. “I think you focused a little too much on details that annoyed you, and you fell off topic a couple of times.”

“I know,” Toby mumbled.

“So take your time. And let me know if you need help.”

He stretched his arms over his head, the muscles contracting over one another. It must've been a long day for him, too. Toby felt the slightest bit guilty for keeping him here.

They worked independently. Mr. Wright typed away on his keyboard and became a white noise in the background as Toby reread the passages for the essay. It reminded him of his days being homeschooled, his mother on one side as she did a puzzle while Toby did his math lessons. A warm feeling settled in his chest: familiarity.

He used his old paper as a reference, copying some sentences while changing others. Back and forth, he went from rereading sections of the book to rewriting certain details on the page. With all this dedicated time, he found himself working faster than he thought.

Mr. Wright had also finished, closing out of his computer. Silently, he dug into his desk and grabbed a thick novel that looked and smelled at least a hundred years old. The man flipped open to where he was last and silently read as the boy worked. Toby kept stealing glances, watching each slow bat of his lashes as his verdant eyes scrolled between each line.

Somewhere between it, Toby felt a warmth against his neck. At first, he thought it was an itch, but when he went to scratch it, he felt something firm and warm brush against his fingers. He glanced back.

Mr. Wright's arm was wrapped around the back of his chair, mindlessly tapping as he read. Toby’s neck burned, realizing just how close the man had become. Mr. Wright must not have noticed, and why should he? He was just resting, not exactly touching the boy, just... resting. Toby sucked in his lip, chewing quietly as his gut stirred.

Were teachers supposed to be this close? Not one of his teachers had offered a second chance on a bad score or had taken time out of their day to give him space to work. And the man wasn't in any rush, quite relaxed actually, like he was home already.

He didn't do that for anyone, did he? Toby only knew him for a couple of months, and there were plenty of students who liked Mr. Wright, but he hadn't seen the man treat anyone like he did Toby. Why was he the only one?

And while it felt nice, it was utterly impossible to work under these conditions. At least before, when his dad was raging outside his room, he could vent out his frustrations on the paper. Now, he couldn’t think of a coherent sentence without dwelling on the fact that the man’s arm was practically wrapped around him.

God, he was gonna drive himself crazy.

Toby must've stared too long, because Mr. Wright looked up and quickly sat up, granting Toby his attention.

“Done?”

“Uh, n- no," he mumbled, turning back with flushed cheeks.

"You want me to check it?"

Perfect! It made his staring less awkward.

"Yes, please."

Mr. Wright took the paper from the desk and sat back in his chair. His arm didn't move from its position against the back of Toby’s chair. Toby didn’t know what made him more nervous, the fact that he hadn’t said a word while reading his essay, or the fact that his arm was still so close after interrupting his reading. So the man did know, but he wasn't taking his arm back.

“Much better,” he said, snapping Toby out of it. “See, this is what I expect from you. You write some of the best papers in your grade.”

Toby hid behind his bang, stifling a smile. He took the paper back, resting it on the desk. Already halfway done, only a body paragraph and an outro to go.

“You’re ready for a break, or what?”

“Am I allowed?” Toby asked.

“Sure,” the man said. “You’ve got another hour. I can spare five minutes.”

Toby agreed and leaned back in his seat, brushing the man’s arm with the back of his neck. He felt the man's muscles tense and caught the slight twitch in his eye. Maybe he hadn't realized after all, or Toby was looking way too deeply into his features.

He swung his legs on the seat, taking in the quiet. There was only the soft rumble of Mr. Wright’s computer and the air conditioning blowing into the room. The window outside was blocked by a curtain, but golden light still poured through and painted the plain walls orange and burnt sienna.

“I like this,” he said. “It feels like homeschool. The quiet. The personal help. The closeness.”

Mr. Wright's hand stilled, balling slowly.

“Still miss homeschool?”

"A little," he mumbled. The boy sighed, sinking into his seat. “It was easy when it was just my mom and me.”

“It’s a big change.”

"Huge."

The man was quiet as Toby prodded at his chair. He hadn't even realized his shoes were dragging against the man’s thighs, and he was lying so close to the man’s arm that his balled fist was brushing against his shoulder. Toby didn’t move himself; he liked the comfort.

“But this is close enough. This is how I learn best, I think,” he said. “One on one. All I need is one.”

Slowly, the man's fist unfurled, and his fingers draped over the boy's shoulders. Gently, his hand lifted and brushed the hair from Toby’s eyes with a soft but sad smile on his face.

“I wish I could do that for you.”

Toby felt paralyzed, stuck under the man’s soft gaze. He watched as the man’s attention flicked from his eyes to the freckles on his face to his button-nose, and landed on his soft pair of lips. He didn’t know if he had hallucinated that last part until Mr. Wright’s eyes landed on them again, longer this time.

He still doubted himself, blaming it on a cut or a bruise or a stain or anything that could've innocently caught his attention until Mr. Wright's thumb grazed over his soft lip, pulling it gently along. Toby's mouth salivated, eager and nervous.

Then, without another word, the man closed the gap between them, pressing his lips against the boy's. Immediately, his stubble scraped his soft cheeks, and filled Toby’s nose with the thick scent of sandalwood aftershave.

Toby had only ever kissed his mother and father and sister on the cheek, just a quick peck and nothing more. But this wasn’t a kiss from a boy to his mother and father. It was longer, a little closer, and more involved as he tilted his head, holding the boy in place. The only people who kissed like this were couples, at least judging from the movies Toby had seen.

Toby couldn’t catch up; the man quickly overpowered the kiss with an open mouth and tongue that did more work than he expected. So the boy pulled away, smacking his lips as he turned away.

“I'm sorry,” Mr. Wright stammered, pulling away. “Shit, I- I don’t know what came over me, I didn't- I shouldn't have- I'm sorry.”

Toby felt the same, touching his lip as his body shivered. He was stretched thin with all the feelings he could feel in one moment. He felt happy and eager, and with another moment to recuperate, he'd be okay for a second chance.

But the man held his head with a look of horror that wracked Toby with guilt. Maybe he should've just sat back and let the man continue. Who knew what else he would do? And Toby wouldn't mind, he didn't think.

“It-It’s okay,” he said. He licked his lip, still tasting the man’s saliva. “That j-just means you like me.”

When the man looked back, Toby thought it would happen again. Mr. Wright stared for a moment too long, a debate in his head that obviously couldn’t be ignored. Something in him decided to back away, and he slowly kicked the floor to bring space between them. But his eyes lingered, blinking slowly as they flickered over his features.

“A little,” he said. He cleared his throat and gestured back to the page. “You- You should keep writing.”

Right. Writing…

Toby did as he was told, turning away to focus. He didn't get very far, but how could he?

The boy dragged his pencil around the page, unable to look at the words without losing his train of thought. He didn’t dare turn around, not wanting to bother the man any more than he had. Always in the way, he thought. Why hadn't he said anything? Toby didn't think to say no, he didn’t stop the man, and even after, he stayed put.

He liked it, he knew. And he liked Mr. Wright.

And he wasn’t going to get another if he didn’t get to a better stopping point. So the boy worked up the sense and finished the rest of the paper. He put less effort than he was used to, and added some made-up opinions that could pass as thought.

The hour escaped them. Toby’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and when he grabbed it, he found his mother’s contact. She was waiting outside already.

Mr. Wright sat up, and Toby wordlessly handed him the finished page. Toby expected the man to grade it, buying him just a few moments longer to see if the man would warm up to him again.

He didn't, sliding the page into a drawer of his filing cabinet.

“I’ll grade this tomorrow. When you're not peaking."

Toby looked down, taking the hint. He stood, gathering his things. Should he thank him? He took the time out of his day to let him work on his own. But he couldn’t think of anything as his eyes fell on those lips one more time.

No, Toby couldn't leave without it.

He caught them both off guard when the boy reached out, touching the older man's cheek softly. It stopped the man in his tracks, eyes wide and wary. But he didn’t push him away, giving Toby the floor for his next move.

Toby followed in his steps, leaning closer and closer until his lips pressed against Mr. Wright’s. And it was just as warm as the first time.

The boy pulled away, just as the man’s lips moved against his. His cowardice took over, and he pulled his hand back as if the man had stung him. Neither said a word, both realizing what they’d done.

The walk to the door was silent. Toby didn't look at him, bowing his head for fear he'd make the man upset. When the door pulled open, Toby slipped out and snuck a look at the man.

But he wasn't angry, he wasn't panicked either. He smiled. And Toby's chest bloomed once more.

“B-Bye,” Toby chirped.

Then, he took off out the door. Every step he took echoed in the empty halls, and so had his beating heart. But he couldn’t wipe that stupid smile off his face.

--

Tuesday

--

The next time the boy found himself outside of Mr. Wright’s room, he was frozen at the door. He almost didn’t go during normal school hours, fearing how different things were now. In the movies, a kiss always meant problems. He didn't realize that until he got into his mother's car and froze up when she asked what they did.

But it was school like normal when he finally sucked up the courage. The man greeted him at the door with the same phrase.

"Good morning, Toby."

And when Toby walked in, no more was said. Mr. Wright went over the lesson, walked around the class to help anyone lost, and then sat at his desk. Not once did he look over at the boy; it was as if it never happened.

Toby tried all he could to focus, rereading the passage over and over again, but his eyes kept going back to the man at the desk. And Mr. Wright’s eyes were always elsewhere. Toby sucked in his lip, chewing delicately as his thoughts swallowed him whole.

Why wasn’t he looking? Was he mad? Did Toby do something wrong?

There was no hope, and he was left with a half-finished assignment by the bell. When the class dispersed, Toby was the last one to hand in his work, hiding behind his long fringe to avoid the man’s gaze.

The man stared curiously at the page, then at the boy.

“Do you think I can finish it in tutorials?” Toby asked.

Mr. Wright was thoughtful for a moment, eyes glancing back and forth. Then, he smiled and nodded.

“Of course.”

So Toby knocked on the door, still unable to open it on his own. Now thinking about it, the locked door was a blessing.

The man opened the door, cautiously looking out, before a strained smile spread on his face. Not good.

“Toby,” he greeted.

“Mr. Wright,” Toby mocked with an awkward giggle.

He stepped aside, letting Toby through. Nothing more was said, no witty quip, no sarcastic joke, nothing. Toby waited by the door as he locked it back up, waiting for something, and came up empty-handed. Even on their own, it seemed the man would rather ignore it than face it.

Maybe it was for the best, but Toby wasn’t one to forget so easily, and the question was burning inside him. He didn't want things to change between them.

He followed Mr. Wright to his desk, taking his spot on the chair. There was more distance than before, so the boy dragged his seat closer. The man’s eyes cautiously glanced at him, but again, he said nothing. Toby was reminded of his first days in school, when the other kids would eye him weirdly for speaking to them.

Toby was growing nervous, picking at his shirt again.

Mr. Wright slid his unfinished page in front of him and slid a pencil on top.

“Let me know if you have any questions,” he said, sounding like a robot rather than his beloved teacher.

Toby furrowed his brows, but he didn’t ask as the man busied himself with the computer. It felt like the boy was in trouble, and the silence surrounding them wasn’t warm or inviting anymore. And after ten minutes of Mr. Wright clicking random tabs, he let out a heavy sigh that reminded Toby of his frustrated father. The man didn’t bother resting on the boy; in fact, he leaned as far as he could with his nose in that stupid novel.

So Toby worked, pouting as he did. This didn’t go nearly as well as he expected, but what was he expecting? Another kiss? Did he even want that? He certainly wanted acknowledgment, proof that it had happened, and they were both there for it. Instead, he got radio silence and a shameful pit in his stomach.

The assignment wasn’t hard, and within half an hour, he was done. He failed to alert the man, pretending to write as he snuck a glance over at him. Mr. Wright hadn’t moved from that spot, lazily rocking himself. But his eyes were glazed over and somewhere else completely, stuck in his own head, and using the book as a ploy.

Toby finally tapped him on the leg, shaking the man from his stupor. He swallowed thickly, clearing his throat as he regained composure.

“Done?”

He nodded and handed his teacher the paper. It wasn’t anything impressive, just a packet of questions and a small essay part at the end.

The man read through it, trailing every word with a closed red pen. The man clicked it once, leaned back, and circled a red 100 on top.

“Good job,” he said.

Was that... it?

Toby watched as the man turned to his computer, switching tab after tab until he found their grades. He nosily watched him input the grade, update it, and close out again.

Toby was motionless, awkwardly holding his hands together. They still had another hour to go. And Toby wasn’t keen on leaving without… something.

The man met his eyes, and for a moment, they only stared. Neither moved from their seat, and neither spoke. It was though they were both waiting for each other to move. Toby hated the silence, and a question was burning within him. If the man wouldn't say it, Toby would.

"Can we-?"

"Are you-?"

They stopped, waiting for the other. Again, there was a silence. Toby smirked, and a soft laugh fell from his lips. Even Mr. Wright loosened up, cracking a smile.

"You first," he said.

Toby shook his head, losing his courage. "No, no. You."

"Right," he said. "Are you... okay?"

Well... that wasn't what he was expecting. There was a guilt in his eyes, like he was caught red-handed doing something wrong. Toby didn't understand it; he wasn't mad, and he didn't know what he did to make him look so scared.

"Yeah?"

"Good, good," he mumbled. He let out a shaky breath, running his hands through his hair before he clapped them over his legs and spoke. "Look, I shouldn't have... done that. Yesterday."

Toby's face fell. Maybe he should've started when he had the chance. 

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to do that, and you- you shouldn't do that with me- with anyone. I mean, not anyone, but- I mean, just not with-"

"I already said it's okay," Toby interrupted. "You don't have to apologize."

"But it isn't," he said. "You know that, don't you?"

Toby didn't know much, but he figured there was a reason why teachers didn't choose to spend hours after class alone with their students. But Toby thought that was stupid.

"I liked it."

Mr. Wright's jaw fell open. He squeaked, averting his gaze as the words fell on him.

"And that's all that matters to- to me," Toby added. He bashfully hid behind his bang, a heat rising against his neck. "So... m-maybe if I had another chance-"

"No."

"W-What?"

"Toby, we can't," he said. "That's not- we can't."

"Why not?"

"It's wrong."

"Why?"

"It's-" the man let out a breath. "It's not right, I mean, you're a- a kid, and I'm-"

"I don't care."

"I do."

"Well... stop caring," he said. "It wasn't bad, it was n-nice. And I know more about it now. I can do better."

"You know more...? What do you mean?"

"I- uh- did some research?"

By research, he meant he looked up kissing tutorials on YouTube, way past his bedtime. He practiced on his hand as the video said, but nothing would be better than the man himself. And Toby wouldn't get this chance with anyone else. If he were honest, he didn't want to try with anyone else.

"So, just one more t-time, I could-"

"No, end of discussion."

"C'mon," he begged. "It's not like anyone can see us."

"Kid, you gotta stop."

"It'll be quick. Just let me-"

"The answer is no."

"Please, it'll be our secret, I swear."

"Toby, enough," he spat.

Toby stilled, puckering his lip. He didn't even try to listen, waving the boy off like he was crazy. He dismissed him like every other teacher he met, treating him like he was one of the other students. But in Mr. Wright's eyes, Toby was different, and Toby knew that. And he wouldn't treat him like he was crazy and get away with it.

A bout of anger welled inside of him, and he spoke before he could think.

"If you don't, I'll tell."

The man froze, and so did Toby. That look of horror returned, a new bead of sweat forming on his temple. Toby regretted it instantly, clenching his jaw as he shrank into his seat. Okay, he might've underestimated how bad that sounded, but who could blame him?

"J-Just one more," Toby said, twiddling his thumbs. "And I'll never ask again."

The man's eyes were doubtful, but he didn't have much of a choice. Either he called his bluff and sent him out, or he gave the boy what he wanted.

Thankfully, the man slowly sighed, and defeatedly, he spoke, “You're not dropping it, are you?"

Toby shook his head quickly, sitting straighter. 

Mr. Wright wiped tiredly at his face before tossing his novel back to the desk like it was a hunk of trash. He glanced at the locked classroom door, quickly turning away as he made up his mind. He swiveled to face the boy, bringing all his attention back to him.

"One more," he said. "And that's it."

Toby nodded, brimming with excitement.

The man was careful, pulling his fingers beneath the boy’s chin. Toby’s heart pounded in his chest; those shiny, verdant eyes were so focused and stern and looking at him. He screwed his eyes shut as Mr. Wright closed the gap, and Toby’s insides were set alight once more.

It was longer this time, much longer. Tim’s head tilted slowly, syncing with Toby’s clumsy lips. His research paid off, and he didn't feel the need to flee. The man’s thumb gently encouraged the boy, rubbing circles into his jaw to keep him present.

Toby feared opening his mouth. The video explained "fish kisses," and he'd never let himself live it down if he caught himself doing that. Thankfully, the man pulled his jaw down slightly, and he felt his tongue graze against his. The boy shivered, his hands clinging to the man's wrists, and held him closer.

Mr. Wright softly groaned into the kiss, his fingers dragging from Toby's chin to the sides of his face. His thick hands radiated warmth, and he held his head easily, threading his fingers into his hair.

Things heated up in Toby’s stomach, going from butterflies into a tight ache. Drool started to slip down the boy’s lip, sliding into the man’s mouth. Toby didn’t think the taste of another man’s saliva could make him feel so good.

The boy leaned into him, holding onto his wrist as he tried and tried to chase the feeling. He didn’t know what had come over him, but his body was on fire, and the only thing that could cure him was Tim’s tongue down his throat.

Tim’s fingers slid down the boy’s neck and carefully pushed him back. Their lips parted, and Toby was left panting, watching a long string of spit disconnect.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I might’ve pushed you there.”

Toby didn’t mind; in fact, he was pretty close to fighting against his grip and locking their lips again for another taste. Suddenly, the man chuckled, eyes locked below the boy’s nose.

“Got a little carried away there, huh?” Mr. Wright asked.

Toby was suddenly very aware of the heat building in his core, tilting his head downward to find his jeans much tighter than before.

“S-Sorry,” he squeaked, closing his legs together. “I didn’t- I mean- I don’t-”

“It’s okay,” Mr. Wright said. “It was my fault.”

His knuckles grazed over the boy’s knees, fingers resting on them. His hands were so big that they covered his whole knee with just his palm.

“Can I...?”

Toby didn’t get to answer as his hands glided over his knees. Then, he slid his palm through the gap and parted them, revealing his erection through his jeans. 

The boy’s cheeks burned, his hands balled into fists on his sides as he shamefully allowed the man to see. The man’s eyes were focused, watching with rapt attention.

At first, his hands gently stroked his thighs back and forth, making his cock jump and twitch. Toby pressed his hand to his mouth, trying to stifle an embarrassing cry. Then, his thumb glided just over the clothed head of his cock. Toby let out a whine, snapping his jaw shut and sucked in a breath.

“Sorry,” he squeaked.

The man glanced at him, cracking a smile.

“Don’t be sorry.”

Back and forth, he stroked the boy through his jeans. Toby couldn’t keep his moans to himself, gripping the armrests as he hummed through his clenched jaw. He shut his eyes, slowly grinding upwards into the man’s palm.

“Gosh, I'm not making this any easier, am I?” Mr. Wright asked.

Toby whimpered in response. That didn't sound good, and he didn’t even want to think about the man stopping, not when he was so close.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, leaning over the boy. “I started this. I thought, maybe if I ignored it, you would leave it alone, but... now you’re slacking on your work."

"I didn't mean t-to. I'm sorry," he said.

Mr. Wright went to speak, but quickly stopped, and held the boy by his thighs. His thumb gently rubbed circles, either soothing the boy or soothing himself, Toby didn't know.

“You finished your work anyway. I'm proud of you,” he said.

Toby's heart welled, melting into his hands. His cock heard it too, jumping at the sound and throbbing beneath the cloth.

The man caught it and stifled a laugh, turning away with a smirk. Toby hid behind his bang, softly panting as his need grew worse.

"Can you keep... going?" Toby asked.

The man's eyes softened, and again, he debated in his head.

"I can do something better," he said. "A little more… skin to skin.”

Toby knew what that meant, his eyes lighting up.

“Like… touch it?”

The man’s jaw slacked for a moment, locking back up as he nodded. It was like the words affected him, or maybe it was the breathy way he said it.

“That’s what skin to skin means.”

“Would that be bad?" Toby asked.

Again, the man was quiet. The silence spoke for itself.

He was told his privates were… private. His parents repeated again and again that only his doctor and family were allowed to see. Well, sometimes even that wasn’t true.

There was an incident at a family gathering many years ago. A handsy friend of a friend brought him to the back of their car for a change of clothes after Toby got soaked during a water gun fight. Toby didn’t remember all that happened, only that his dad got into a bloody fist-fight and his mother didn’t let him out of her sight for the rest of the night.

She told him, as she scrubbed him raw in the bath, to be cautious of anyone he didn’t really know, to be wary of those he didn’t trust.

“Trust your gut,” she said. “If you’re ever unsure or you feel unsafe, always listen to your gut.”

And, right now, his gut was screaming for Mr. Wright to touch him.

“O-Okay,” he said.

Mr. Wright heeded the words and pressed his hands up the boy's thighs. The muscles twitched underneath, settling under the expanse of his palm.

“I’ll have to, uh...” he trailed off, gesturing to the button of his jeans.

It was getting too much; Toby didn’t care anymore. He held onto the man’s shoulder as he stood, letting the man slide his jeans down and reveal his plain black briefs.

Being so close to the man’s ear, he could hear his heart thumping through his neck, and his breathing started to turn ragged. Toby hadn't even touched him down there; he didn't know what had gotten the man to turn so hot and heavy.

Maybe it was him. Maybe that was why he was so special. Toby allowed himself to dream, resting his head against his shoulder.

His teacher brushed over the outline of his cock through his briefs, sending sparks of warmth through his whole body. Toby’s legs shuddered, a shaky moan leaving his lips.

“There you go,” he whispered.

Toby’s hands bunched the man’s shirt, pulling him in as tight as he could. He couldn't keep himself upright, shifting his weight from one leg to the other.

A warm hand trailed down his side, stopping just before the slope of his ass. Slowly, Toby was lifted, feet dragging below him. Mr. Wright sat back in his chair and placed the boy on his thigh.

Toby couldn’t breathe, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder and the other on the armrest. He was closer than ever, his face inches from the man’s stubble. There was a thick, sour scent on his breath, faint but familiar as he exhaled. After the second sniff, he realized it was menthol mixing with the scent of his woody aftershave.

“You smell like my dad,” he whispered. The words fell from his mouth faster than he could think. Quickly, he covered his mouth, looking back down. "Sorry."

Mr. Wright swallowed hard, cheeks tinting a slight pink for the first time since they started.

His cock was still hidden behind the fabric, and with Mr. Wright's hands over it, it looked like it fit perfectly. Toby couldn’t believe it, panting softly.

His fingers slipped through his waistband and finally brushed along his twitching prick. Toby whined, a shaky breath leaving his mouth. His teacher's hands were so warm, and he pulled his prick out slowly like unwrapping a gift. Toby was right, it fit perfectly in his hand.

“Pretty,” Mr. Wright mumbled.

Toby shyly buried his face into the man’s neck, swallowing hard. He’d be more ashamed if it didn’t feel so good.

The man's hand lifted off the boy’s cock, and just as Toby went to protest, he watched as he held his palm to his mouth and spit into it.

“Ew,” Toby mumbled.

The man offered him a smile, albeit strained, as he focused on his little prick in front of him. It was like he was in a trance, locking eyes with its twitching form.

“Just trust me,” he said.

Even though Toby’s prick was about half the size of the man’s hand, he still wrapped his fingers around it and gently tugged. The boy’s body lurched forward, crying out. He’d done it a few times before, locked in his room after dark. It was always an awkward experience, and a guilty one too. But the things he saw, and the sounds he heard, and the way the older men grew out their scruffy beards and their hairy chests and sweat beading down their necks almost always had him groaning into his pillow, imagining their burly chests were there in front of him.

But those nights could never compare to this moment. And Mr. Wright's chest felt just as good as he thought it would. It was impossible to feel so good in someone else’s hands.

“Mr. Wr-Wright,” Toby stammered.

The man’s hand tightened around his length, flicking his thumb over the head of his cock, and drawing another squeak from the boy. He was so sensitive; even one swipe had the boy trembling.

“That feel good?”

“S- So good,” the boy stammered.

Toby jumped as the man's free hand slunk its way under his shirt and wrapped around his bare waist, sliding up and down. Mr. Wright pumped him with ease with the wetness, quickly turning warm and sloppy.

His gut tightened, his breaths shaky and loud. Toby brought his hand to his mouth, but it did nothing to quiet his cries as he threw his head against the man’s shoulder. It was like he was watching his own porno, stuck staring at the way the man's fist swirled around his glistening head.

"You like the view?" he asked, breath dancing against the nape of his neck.

It was the way he said it, so low, so husky, that made the boy twist and his gut tighten. He recognized the feeling from nights alone in his room, playing with his dick and thinking about his shirtless neighbor, or his shirtless favorite actor, or a shirtless Mr. Wright. Toby bit his lip, digging his nails into his shoulder, and cried out, high and needy as his prick spurted shots of white across the man's hand. Again and again, it coated the man's balled fist and further smeared against his cock. Finally, the man's furious pumping started to wane, sending dull sparks of pleasure through him as he drew out every last drop.

The boy moaned weakly, hiding his beet-red face as his heart thumped angrily in his chest. The man's hand slid up his back, rubbing circles into him as he inhaled deep, slow breaths. Dizzily, he grumbled into the man’s collar, feeling the warmth leave his cock. 

Mr. Wright was stiff, and when Toby finally looked up, it was as if the man was frozen. There was a mess on his hands that had dripped to the floor, and not a paper towel in sight.

“Sorry,” the boy whispered. “I didn’t- I was… it- it felt good and I couldn’t-”

“Don’t apologize,” he said. He swallowed hard and took a breath, hiding his hand below his seat. Gently, he pulled his hand from under Toby's shirt and rested it on his shoulder, pressing him closer against his chest. “You okay?"

"Mhm," he mumbled, unable to form the words. The boy’s cheeks burned, and his heart was still racing. Otherwise, he was fine, high on cloud nine with a stupid smile he couldn't wipe off.

He pulled his arms over the man’s neck, locking eyes with him wordlessly. This was much more than a kiss, and Toby didn't even have to beg. He figured some reward was in order.

Toby pressed a shy kiss to his lips, only a peck. His forehead pressed against the older man’s, unmoving, almost daring him to do something. Then, Mr. Wright closed the gap again, holding the boy by the small of his back for support.

It was clear that this was no mistake. Toby wasn’t crazy, and he sure wasn’t dreaming. Mr. Wright liked him.

And as the older man deepened the kiss, he sat the boy between his parted legs. Toby’s knee brushed up against a solid, protruding mass in the man’s pants. Toby smiled into the kiss, tilting his head as he opened his mouth for the man to groan into.

Mr. Wright really liked him.

--

Wednesday

--

Toby was rushing from his Biology class. He stayed later than he should, catching Dr. Nyras struggling to balance a stack of folders filled with blank printer paper. Being the nice kid that he was, he offered to help, carrying half the folders to the copy room outside the class. What he thought would be a quick trip turned into a long, drawn-out conversation that only Dr. Nyras was having. The old man was a talker with the slowest cadence around.

The boy smiled and nodded at the man as he muttered his story, complaining about the other kids in class, or the other teachers, or the incapable staff running the front desk. While Toby only knew him as a grouchy man, and harsh when he wanted to be, he sounded especially lonely given how much he spoke. If Toby had more time, he would sit and listen longer. If he listened long enough, he could earn an extension for his semester project. 

“Alright, I held you up long enough,” Dr. Nyras mumbled. “Here, my treat.”

The man opened his desk, bending over with a groan and snatching a small carton of juice from a box hidden behind papers and boxes. It was the last thing Toby was expecting, but he happily took it. It was a standard apple juice, the unsweetened brand his mother always got him.

“Don’t tell anybody, alright. I only keep these for me,” he griped, and waved the boy off without so much as a goodbye. “Now get home safe."

Toby said his goodbyes and gathered his things, rushing out the door. The halls were empty, most students already crowding the exits to the bus and car line. He made haste, turning into the English wing.

He knocked on the door, peering in through the window to catch any movement. It was almost twenty minutes past the time he usually showed up. Mr. Wright offered him a small job during class and to meet him after school if he was up for it. Toby promised he'd be there, but after he spoke to his mother.

He’d drive himself crazy if he made it too late, or if Mr. Wright took his absence as an answer. He couldn’t sleep last night, thinking about the man’s hands, his husky whispers, his messy hair, and the way he kissed him so roughly.

The boy knocked again, more hurried this time. If the man left without a word, Toby would tear his hair out.

Luckily, the man appeared through the window, looking down at the other. His eyes lit up in surprise as he unlocked the door.

“And here I was just about to leave,” he said.

“Sorry, Dr. Nyras needed some help,” Toby said, pushing between the man to get inside.

“Did you tell him where you were going?”

“No,” he answered. “He doesn't need to know.”

The man nodded slowly, a curious look on his face. “So, he held you hostage, did he?”

“A little,” Toby giggled. “But he gave me a juice box after. He’s pretty nice.”

“That’s the first I heard anyone say that. He’s kind of an ah-” Mr. Wright thought for a moment, before finishing his thought, “… a jerk.”

“You w-were gonna call him an asshole, huh?” Toby asked.

“Language..." he scolded. "But yeah, he is."

Toby giggled. More and more, the man was starting to sound less like the professional teacher he knew and more like a friend. He hoped the man felt the same.

Mr. Wright pointed at the boy’s bag. “You brought your camera?”

Toby looked down and found the camera strap hanging out of his bag. He groaned, slapping his hand to his forehead.

“Oh, man, I have to give this to Mr. Kralie. Can I-”

Mr. Wright quickly shut the door, locking it again.

“We should keep it,” he said. “It would be suspicious wandering the halls.”

Toby pouted. It wouldn’t be too bad, but he hated to keep it at the house. Who knows what Mr. Kralie would do if his dad snooped and accidentally broke the camera? He had a habit of getting into Toby’s things. It was always a gamble, but he hoped it worked out in his favor.

“Well, it wouldn't be the first time I took it home," the boy said, putting it down on the desk beside his bag. 

"What do you take it for?"

"Uh, reasons?" he said lamely.

The man raised a brow, analyzing the boy's shy demeanor. Toby could be such a bad liar, but it was difficult to keep up the act with the man's hard gaze on him. But explaining his collection of pictures might ruin the mood.

"Keep it to yourself then," Mr. Wright said with a shrug. “C’mon. We've got other things.”

Toby agreed, hopping to his seat beside the big chair. Only, it was missing. Toby looked in the general area, but there were no remaining chairs, only the combo desks lined up that were much too big to sit beside the man.

“Oh, right. Another teacher borrowed it, I guess she forgot to give it back,” Mr. Wright said.

The man stepped around the boy and pulled his office chair from the desk, patting the backrest.

“I guess that means I'll have to let you sit in my chair.”

Toby perked up. In his chair? 

"You're so generous," he teased and threw himself back in the chair, his feet dangling below. The seat was still warm, even warmer when he sat back the same way Mr. Wright did. It really was as comfortable as he made it seem. "You should get me one like this, so I don't have to sit in that ugly chair. Then I could sit with you all the time."

"I'll have to think about it," he mumbled. "I have to cover up the walls for the test, so-"

“Want me t-to help you?” Toby asked.

The man looked the boy up and down before shaking his head. “Not for this. I don’t think you’ll be able to reach.”

Toby pouted. Ouch. Way to rub it in. But if he didn't need help there, then what was he here for? To watch? He was comfortable with that.

The man dug into his filing cabinet, pulling a stack of papers from the pockets, and laid them in front of the boy.

"You're gonna help me grade," he said, then he slid him an answer sheet. "These are the correct answers. Mark the ones wrong, and score it out of twenty. Deal?"

"Isn't this your job?" he asked, taking a red pen from his cupholder.

"Well, you wanted to help, didn't you?"

"I did, but I-I had other things in mind..." Toby trailed off, tapping his pen against the desk and letting his gaze drop down to the man's hands. He remembered vividly what they had done for him. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel it against his inner thigh, creeping closer and closer to his-

"Focus," Mr. Wright scolded, turning away. Then, he called from over his shoulder, "Maybe... we can do something after."

Toby bit his lip and clicked his red pen. Sounded good enough to him!

So they worked. It was easy enough, and by the third page, he memorized the patterns. Toby never thought of himself as a teacher; it seemed too overwhelming to handle a hundred kids and all their assignments. It seemed even worse when they were mean snobs, stealing pencils and other supplies they didn't need from the desk.

It was easy to like Toby; he was quiet, kind, and he did everything the man told him. Maybe that's why he kept him around.

Toby was in the middle of grading, trying to discern whether the circle was over A or B, when a flash of light distracted him. He winced, rubbing his eyes from the strain. Mr. Wright smiled to himself at the screen, pressing a few buttons before pointing it back at Toby.

"Hey," Toby argued. "I didn't say you could t-touch that."

"Oh, my apologies, Mr. Rogers," he said mockingly. "It was just right there, I wanted to check it out."

Again, he snapped a photo, and the flash blinded him. Toby flinched. Gosh, was this how everyone else felt?

"Don't wuh- waste the storage," Toby scolded. 

"It's not a waste, it's you," Mr. Wright said. "You look funny at my desk."

Toby rolled his eyes, hiding his smirk behind his hand.

"Funny how?"

"Like you need to grow into it."

The boy agreed, his legs were swinging in the chair, and the low seat cut off most of his torso.

“You don’t have to rub it in,” Toby griped.

“It’s cute.”

Cute. That's how Toby had been described his whole life, by neighbors, by family, by doctors. For some reason, it sounded different in the man's mouth. His face flushed, and he lowered his head to hide.

"I'm surprised Mr. Kralie lets the students keep these. They're pretty expensive," Mr. Wright added, pointing the camera around the room.

"He only lets me," Toby said.

"Why?"

Toby looked up to find the man staring at him. The smile was wiped clean, replaced with a quirked eyebrow. But the boy didn't remember saying anything wrong.

"He says I'm responsible," he said. "Like you said. Remember?"

The man was thoughtful, glancing around the room. He turned back with a smile and returned to the camera, pointing it in another direction. Was that a test?

Toby ignored it, returning his focus to grading, and after another half hour, his hand started to cramp. He recognized certain names, silently judging their low score. In his opinion, it was hard to fail English, even without tutorials.

Mr. Wright had taped up all the posters on the wall, anything informative that could spoil the test. With his back turned, Toby could stare longer. He rolled his sleeves to his elbows and popped the top buttons from his shirt. Now, with his hair mussed, Toby was staring at a different man, less professional and a lot more endearing. It was a side meant to be shielded from the students, to differentiate the teacher from the man.

The line blurred now, and Toby couldn't be more honored to be one of the few to witness it.

"Something wrong?"

Toby blinked, finding the man staring back at him with a popped hip. He sat up, looking down at the finished stack of papers. Only one was left from the piles: his own worksheet.

"Should I grade mines too?" he asked.

"Of course not," he said, walking over. "Hand me that."

Toby gave him the pen, and he started to grade. He leaned on his arm, curious to see his score. The man stilled, gently batting the boy away.

"I'll show you after," he said.

He sat back with a pout, eyes wandering over his wide frame. He hadn't even noticed how dangerously close he was and what sat beside his shoulder. Whether Mr. Wright meant to or not, his crotch was eye level with the boy, and Toby was entranced.

Whatever the man was mumbling wasn't registering, and instead became a white noise as Toby's gaze wandered back to the fly of his pants. He licked the inside of his mouth, brain running a mile a minute as he remembered the day prior, how hard it was pressed against his knee.

His fingers twitched, gently reaching out and prodding against the man's pant leg. Under the cloth, Toby felt the man's muscles twitch, and he stepped aside slightly. Toby grinned and did it again, running his fingers up his leg, making the man shiver.

"Toby, I want at least one normal day with you," he said.

"Boring. You had all day to be normal."

"And I'd rather keep it that way."

Toby scoffed, rolling his eyes. This was cute at first, but he was getting tired of being pushed aside. It wasn't like Toby had started this; he only continued. And if those stupid compliments weren't evidence enough of Tim's shared attraction, his constant wary attitude towards the boy's every move would suffice.

"You said w-we could do something after."

"I said maybe."

"And?"

"And it's still up in the air."

"Still up-? Wuh- What? Did I n-not do a g-good job?"

"No, I trust you."

"So w-what? You lied?"

"I didn't lie, I just-"

"You said it to- tuh- to..." the boy growled, shaking his head. "You said it, so I'd shut up!"

"Toby-"

"Fine, I'll shut up."

The boy threw himself back in the chair, folding his arms over his chest.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," Mr. Wright said.

"No, I don't know," he spat.

Innocently, the boy hiked his legs up to rest on the seat, rolling his eyes when the man didn't answer him. His anger was short-lived as he realized how close his foot was to the man's pants. The tip of his sneaker prodded against the man's corduroy pants, sliding up and down his knee. Immediately, he pushed the boy's foot down.

"Stop."

Toby giggled, lolling his head to the side. He swung in the seat, watching the man sigh heavily and continue. He waited only a few seconds before he propped his foot at the edge of the chair again and rested it against the man's leg. Mr. Wright didn't react, marking a question incorrect on the paper.

The boy tsked, "Wuh- What'd you do that for?"

"You didn't finish the question."

The perfectionist in Toby wanted to disagree, but the man's body was too distracting. Slowly, the boy's foot glided around the expanse of his thigh, rubbing long circles.

"Can I make up for it?"

The man was quiet, ignoring his advances, and let out a deep sigh as he scored the assignment on top.

"You didn't say no," he mumbled. Then, he pressed his toe against the man's belt, dragging it down and down until-

The man's hand clamped over his ankle, pulling him forward. Toby cried out, almost sliding off the chair as he held onto the arms and dragged it with him. Mr. Wright wasn't happy, far from it, huffing through his nose. 

"Stop."

What the man didn't think about was how close the boy was to the fly of his pants, and the way it had distended in the last ten seconds. Whatever the boy had done worked. And when Toby looked back up, Mr. Wright had noticed too, his nose tinting pink.

Toby giggled. "That was fast."

"Toby, enough," he said, but the words came out breathier than he must've meant.

The boy couldn't take him seriously, trying and failing to stifle his grin. Mr. Wright couldn't do the 'strict teacher' act; that's what he liked about him.

"C'mon, we can't t-take a break?" he asked.

"We shouldn't."

Toby disagreed, running his fingers along the man's pants, the soft fibers tickling his fingerpads. He sat up, resting his head against the man's thigh, and looked up.

"I think we should."

The man didn't fight him on it anymore, leaning against the desk as he focused hard on the boy's closeness. Toby's fingers prodded at the shape of it, protruding from his pants like a tree root.

“It was hard like this yesterday, too,” Toby said. “You like me a lot, don't you?"

"That's a problem."

"Not t-to me."

Mr. Wright didn’t let him touch it yesterday, blaming the short time and the mess Toby made. He cleaned his hand off and sent the boy away, not without a final peck on the cheek. Toby was riding high the whole drive home, taking an extra-long shower before his restless night of tossing and turning.

The boy undid the buckle, letting it clank against each other before falling limp. He almost pulled it all off when the man grabbed his wrists.

“No, no, wait.”

"For what?" he spat.

“You don’t- I mean, you shouldn’t, it’s not-”

“I wuh- want to,” Toby said. “Please?”

Mr. Wright didn’t look sure, but his hand had stilled. Toby shook it off and finished sliding it off his waist. He let it fall to the floor and eagerly popped the button. His heart was pounding again as he slid the zipper down; he felt like one of the girls in the porn video he saw.

They smiled just as wide as he had, maybe more giggly. Toby's eagerness got the better of him, and when he pulled the man's pants down, he took the waistband of his boxers with it.

It flopped out in front of him, hanging heavy and stiff. Toby flinched, leaning back with a nervous laugh. He underestimated what it would look like, so veiny and thick and covered at the base with wiry hairs. The videos made it hard to tell, and Toby didn't even think to prepare for it. He didn’t even know it could get this big.

This was supposed to fit in his hands? In his mouth?

The man was beet red, covering his mouth with the back of his fist. His attention was rapt, stuck between his features and his hands ghosting over his warm length. But Toby was frozen, stuck staring at its size and the way the tip had already started to drool.

"Okay..." Toby mumbled. "This is huge."

Mr. Wright whimpered, catching Toby's attention. Gosh, all the boy had done was look at it.

"You look funny," Toby said.

In a split-second decision, the boy sat up, reaching over the desk and snatching his camera.

"Wait, Toby-"

Toby pointed it at him, capturing his embarrassed face in seconds. He giggled to himself, leaning back and pointing at the man's stiff cock. The flash illuminated it, casting a dark shadow behind it.

"Toby, that's school property."

"Relax," he mumbled. "I'll- uh- delete it."

"Do you even know how?"

"Duh? You just hit delete," he said.

"That doesn't-"

Toby wasn't paying attention, aiming to capture another angle of his leaky cock, and accidentally wrapped his hands around the shaft, stealing a low, shaky breath from the man. He paused, looking up at the man with a quirked brow.

Toby was at a loss about what to do, holding it in his palm. He marveled at the size, exploring the mast down to his thick sack hiding behind his boxers. So mature. He never thought he’d be able to see one so close.

He didn't know what else to say, so he offered the camera to the man with a shrug.

"You next?" Toby jested.

Toby meant it as a joke, honestly. But when the man's eyes landed on the camera, he seemed to have already decided. He took it, and Toby watched the man point the camera, squinting as he did. Toby gleamed with pride, holding it close and sticking his tongue out as the flash blinded him.

"How is it?" he asked.

The man was at a loss for words, flicking between the camera and the boy.

"I can't believe I just did that."

"Me either, you fall for peer pressure easily," Toby teased.

He focused again on the man's thick cock. He recalled what the man had done for him and spat into his hand, dragging it down the underside of his shaft.

Immediately, the man groaned, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. His cock twitched, bouncing slightly at the tip. Toby couldn’t fit it all in one hand, but he made do with what he could, stroking it up and down. Even that got monotonous, and he was sure something was missing

“Uh, am I doing it right?” Toby asked.

The man was damn near shaking, and all Toby had done was touch it. If the man had done this for him, he wouldn’t be trembling nearly as badly. Well, maybe.

“Yeah, yeah, perfect,” he chewed out through a shaky breath.

“Should I keep doing this?”

The man nodded, “Please.”

Toby grinned, giggling to himself. The way the man sounded was so foreign to his ears, needy and begging and wanting.

“Okay,” the boy chirped.

It pulsed with every pump, sliding easily from his palm. So warm, and not nearly as soft as it looked. He could only imagine how it would feel against his tongue, moving inside his mouth.

"How is it supposed to fit?" he asked.

"W- What?"

"In the videos, they, uh, put it in their mouths?"

"You're watching videos?"

"Duh, who isn't?" he sassed. "It- It's just a little gross. Will it t-taste bad?"

"You don't have to."

"Well, I'm gonna," he argued. "So you can stop being so responsible."

Toby psyched himself up if the man wouldn't help. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. If the girls could do it, why couldn't he? If he stopped now, he would prove the man right, that he wasn't ready, and that would ruin everything. Who knows how long it would take to corner the man again?

But what if he messed up? What if he gagged or choked or threw up? He would never let himself live it down if he threw up. Gross.

He shifted in his seat, his doubts winning over his waning confidence.

“It’s not about the taste," Mr. Wright finally answered.

"Then?"

"It's... more for me than for you."

"Will you like it?"

"I- well, I uh-"

"Yes or no?"

"Yes, but you don't have to-"

Toby heard enough, flicking his tongue out and draping it over the tip. It tasted strange, salty, and slipped down his throat like water. Thankfully, it didn't taste bad.

"I don't get it," Toby mumbled, smacking his lips.

But when he looked up at the man, he began to understand. Mr. Wright was red in the face, messy hair draped over his lidded eyes, and his chest rose and fell, heaving at the mere sight of him. Whatever the boy felt yesterday must be what he felt, and that made Toby's chest flutter.

Huh. Okay...

"Sh- Should I do it again?" Toby asked.

He'd be a moron to say no, but Toby wouldn't put it past him. Thankfully, he nodded, wordlessly.

Toby smiled, still stroking. He stuck his tongue out, pressing it against the thick fold of skin circling the tip. It flattened against his tongue, moving as he slid his tongue up and down.

A haggard breath left the man’s chest, hands digging into the desk.

“Just like that,” he groaned.

The man was right, the taste was half the experience. But his tongue sliding up and down was tiring, and Toby remembered it had to go into his mouth at some point. He mentally prepared himself, unconsciously popping his jaw in preparation. Mr. Wright was going to love it; he would be so happy with him, and he would keep him in his class all the time, and maybe one day Mr. Wright would be so satisfied that he would take him away in his car and drive him to his big house, where they could live together and get married and have so much fun all by themselves without anyone getting in their way. And it all starts with this... one thing.

Ugh, but the thought wasn’t fun.

“Here, just…”

The man gently laid his hand on the boy's head, threading his fingers into his curls. Toby's chest was warm, and he tilted his head up to face the man. His hand fit perfectly on his head, his blunt nails scratching his scalp methodically like he was petting a dog. Easily, he could maneuver him from one side to the other like a puppet. And Toby let him, smiling softly with shining eyes.

Mr. Wright was so focused and losing that nervous edge, thankfully. What replaced it, Toby still didn't know, but he hoped it wasn't regret.

Slowly, he bunched the boy's hair, taking hold of him. Toby's eyes flicked from the head of his cock, now dangerously close to his lips, to the man's darkened eyes. 

"I'll help you," he muttered, that glazed look in his eye ever present.

Toby opened his mouth to ask when the man’s hold on his hair tightened and pushed his parted lips onto the head of his cock. He stretched his jaw open, tasting the first of those watery, salty tears. Before he could adjust, the man stuck his thumb into the boy's mouth, pulling it down and fitting more of his cock between his teeth.

It happened much too fast. Before he knew it, the whole tip was in his mouth, and Toby was having trouble breathing. He grabbed at the man's thighs, trying to give himself some space without luck. Mr. Wright's hold on him was too strong, keeping him still. He whimpered, looking up at the man with pleading eyes.

But the man groaned, knocking his head back and rolling his hips. The man’s thick cock stretched his jaw wider and wider. Tears sprang from his eyes, digging his nails into him.

“Just like that, buddy,” Mr. Wright cooed. “You’re taking it so well.”

Toby couldn’t do much else as the man’s grip on his hair pulled him off his cock, just to drive him right back. He felt like a toy, simply holding on as he rocked his hips into the boy's mouth.

But he couldn't deny the feeling was indescribable, feeding off the man’s musky scent as it filled his lungs. He started to relax, only tensing when he drove into him too deeply. Being driven like this, used and nearly choked, would’ve made him queasy had the man not looked so good receiving it.

His little cock started to beg, so stiff in his shorts. While the man held his head, Toby slid his hands down, pulling his waistband aside. Slowly, he started to stroke himself, watching the man’s body rock above him.

“Is that making you feel good?”

Toby’s eyes softened, nodding quickly as the man pulled slowly out of his mouth. The boy took it upon himself to keep going, obediently pushing his head forward on his own, taking as much as he could. The man above him groaned, panting as he watched the boy suck and slather his cock full of the spit on his tongue.

A flash of white blinded him again, and Toby blinked. Another one? Toby wasn't even smiling.

"You look so cute doing that, buddy."

The boy whimpered at the pet name, using it as encouragement. His cock was a bigger mouthful than he was expecting, and without the man's thumb holding his mouth open, the boy was sure he'd bite into it accidentally. But it moved in his mouth the way he thought, pulsed like a heartbeat, and drained every weeping drop into his throat.

“Atta-boy, that’s it,” he praised. “It feels so good, baby boy. So good.”

Just as the boy confidently worked a rhythm, the man pushed him back down again. Toby gasped as his cock slunk all the way in, hitting the back of his throat easily. He pulled back, but just as Toby would complain, he drove him back down again and again. Drool slipped from his lip, down his chin as the man fucked ruthlessly into his mouth.

"C'mon, just a little more," he mumbled, but he didn't stop.

His groans had started to peak, haggard breaths hitching with every harsh thrust down his throat. And every time Toby cried out, it only made his cock jump and drive deeper. Toby was losing his senses with every second, his vision growing spottier.

The man pulled him in for a final time and held him there, his cock pressed against his throat. Toby tasted the first of the salty fluid, invading his tongue and slipping down his throat.

He swallowed instinctively, while the man jerked further into his mouth and dumped more thick ropes down his throat. Toby tried helplessly to pull him off, to give himself a moment to breathe, but the man’s strong hands kept him still, forcing him to swallow back every drop.

Finally, the man sighed, and the grip on his hair loosened just enough for the boy to set himself free. Toby fell back with a slump, coughing into his hands as he inhaled sharply. He spat up whatever was clogging his throat and anything else in his way, hurling a bit of lunch onto the floor in a stinging mess. His head swung, and his jaw was sore as he closed it, and he took deep breaths before he really passed out.

“Oh, shit. C’mere, buddy.”

The man scooped the boy by his waist up to his chest, wiping the hair from his eyes. Toby blinked away the dizziness, tears slipping down his face that hadn't fallen prior. He couldn't even wipe the bile dripping down his chin.

“I'm sorry, I’m so sorry,” he apologized. “I wasn’t paying attention, you just- it felt so good, I got so lost in it. Oh, you poor thing.”

Toby appreciated the help, holding onto his shoulders as he started to regain his composure. The wet feeling didn’t leave his throat, and the taste even less so. Bits were caught in his teeth, stinging his gums.  He smacked his lips, looking around for a way to clean it. Gosh, he really did throw up. Gross.

“Here, here,” the man said. He handed the boy his unfinished juice box, pressing the straw between his lips.

Toby sucked what was left of the juice, clearing his throat of the assault and bile that was left. He decided then and there that he wouldn’t do that again, not unless the man would pay him back with something good.

Mr. Wright must’ve seen the look on his face, wincing as he wiped away the drool and tears still streaking his face.

“You did so well. You know that? So good,” he praised, pressing his head to the boy's forehead.

The man pressed his lips to the boy's, just a peck. Toby turned away, wiping his lips.

"No, ew," he croaked. "I threw up."

"It's okay," Mr. Wright said with a snicker. "It's my fault, I shouldn't have pushed you. I'm sorry, buddy."

He softly rubbed his back, rocking him gently as if he were a baby. The boy started to relax, wrapping his arms around his neck and locking onto his lips. Maybe just one more...

The man was one step ahead, closing the gap. Toby sighed, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. Mr. Wright was one weird guy if he could still kiss him after all that. Or maybe he was brave. Or maybe he just liked Toby that much

It was a good thing. Now it felt more fair, a nice, wet, and gentle kiss that reminded Toby of the man's gentle nature, someone he trusted.

Toby’s prick still pressed helplessly against his shorts, aching for some attention. The boy pulled away from the kiss, pointing his attention downward.

“Oh, right,” Mr. Wright said. “Here, let me help you.”

He rested the boy back onto the seat, spreading his kiss to his lips, down his chest, and over his creamy tummy. Toby giggled at the sensation, squirming in his seat as the man teased every part of him. Then, he hovered over the clothed part of his heat and pressed a firm kiss over it, eyes dead set on Toby.

The boy bit his lip, his cock twitching for freedom underneath the man’s lips. So close and yet Toby couldn’t get enough.

“Pull it out for me,” Mr. Wright ordered.

Toby did as he was told, shimmying his pants and his briefs down. His cock sprang free, not nearly as big or as heavy as Mr. Wright's. Hell, it was half the size and sparing on the body hair. But Toby was too desperate to get insecure now, leaking at the top already.

“Aw, look at that,” he cooed. “So excited for me.”

Toby flushed. He didn’t know where the man was getting the confidence. Whatever Toby had done had turned the man into something else, and he was starting to like it.

The man pressed a kiss to the tip, mustache brushing against his sensitive head. Toby moaned, pressing his lips together in a thin line. Curse his inexperience, every touch the man granted had him reeling; he was just too easy to please.

Behind the boy's closed eyes, he caught a familiar flash. Toby took a peek, finding the lens was once again pointed at him.

"Cute," the man whispered.

"G-Give me that," Toby said. "Before you buh-break it."

Toby snatched it over, fumbling with it shakily and pointed. He looked even better on camera, tongue just pressing against its shape. The man looked heaven-sent, lidded eyes lazily watching him, cheeks rosy, with strands of hair still tickling his eyes. Toby took another just in case, before he let his head throw back against the back of the chair.

His tongue was like a warm cover, draping over his sensitive flesh and bringing it to life. The boy whimpered, moaning softly at the feeling. The wet, the warm, and the suction were like nothing he’d ever experienced before. No wonder Mr. Wright lost his cool; Toby would choke him on his dick too if it wasn't already halfway down the man's throat.

“M-Mister-” he whimpered, clinging to the armrests for stability.

The man was relentless, tongue curling and flattening against his swelling head, sucking every inch of flesh into his mouth. Toby buried a hand in his hair, tangling each strand under his fingers, and tugged. The man winced with a soft groan, his throat vibrating and thrumming against the boy's prick. Toby gasped, pulling again and getting the same result.

It was only a fraction of what he had done to him, but it was enough to satiate the boy. It didn't matter when Mr. Wright could take his prick down to the base until the boy could feel his nose digging into his belly. 

“Mr. Wright, please- please, I’m gonna-“

The boy couldn’t take it, crying out before releasing a full load into the man’s throat. And Mr. Wright took it all, holding his whole prick in his mouth until the boy stopped writhing.

Toby panted, soft cries escaping as another tear threatened to leave his eyes. The boy slumped against the seat, panting to catch his breath as the man below finally set his dick free, not without one more kiss to the tip.

It was then that he realized he’d just finished in the man’s mouth, and if the taste was anything like Toby had, it wasn't that good.

“Sorry,” the boy stammered. “I didn’t mean to, I was- I- I was.”

“It’s alright,” Mr. Wright cooed. “It was only fair.”

His large hands slid up his waist, tightening around and encompassing him almost completely. Toby must’ve been red in the face, from both arousal and shame. His thin hands covered his mouth, unable to control his breathing from being so harsh.

“How was that?” Mr. Wright asked.

“Good,” he mumbled. “Really good.”

The man’s eyes darkened, looking over the boy's panting figure. He stood back up, towering over him at his full height. If the man wanted something else, Toby wouldn't be able to stop him. The thought chilled him as he sank further into the seat.

“And you?” Toby asked.

He was quiet for a moment, eyes landing on the boy's lap. Toby feared the worst as he reached over, relaxing once he realized his camera was still lying on him. Mr. Wright pulled the camera to his eye and snapped a photo; this time, the flash was finally turned off. He looked at it through the screen, smiling to himself.

“Perfect,” he said.

--

Thursday

--

“How could you lose that SD card, Toby?” Mr. Kralie asked. “C’mon, kid, you know those are expensive.”

“I’m sorry, I guess I just forgot where I left it.”

The older teacher sighed, raking his hand through his hair. Toby could do nothing but pout, looking down at the ground. Maybe he shouldn’t have let Mr. Wright take it. Now, Mr. Kralie was never going to let him use the camera. He should’ve told Mr. Wright to leave it alone, or just remembered to give it back to Mr. Kralie in the first place.

But Mr. Wright promised a nice reward, and Toby couldn’t stop thinking about it. Those big, strong hands stroking his dick again, making it wet and warm in his mouth, fondling his legs like they were made of gold until he finally took it all in and-

“Toby?”

“What?”

“Get the door,” Mr. Kralie said. “Someone’s here.”

Through the window, a familiar face peered in, waving for the boy's attention. Toby perked up, rushing over and ripping the door open.

“Mr. Wright!” Toby cried, hugging his waist.

The man hissed softly, pulling him in with a soft chuckle.

“Watch the leg there, buddy,” he said.

Toby squeaked, stepping away to find him leaning on his right leg. He’d seen the man walk on a limp on occasion. He hadn’t thought to ask why.

“What’s wrong with it?” Toby asked.

“Uh, broke it a long time ago, it never healed right,” he said.

“Oh,” he mumbled. “Is that w-why you w-w-walk funny?”

“I walk funny?”

“A little,” he said. “Everyone says it’s cos you’re gay.”

“Lucky guess,” he said with a shake of his head.

“What’s up?” Mr. Kralie asked.

“I was wondering if you guys were missing an SD card?”

He dug into his pocket, fishing out a familiar small SD card. Toby's face flushed at the sight, swallowing hard. Mr. Wright must’ve deleted the photos at home, or else he was setting them both up for trouble.

“Oh, yeah, w-we- uh- yeah…” Toby said slowly. 

Mr. Wright placed it in his hands, his thick fingers brushing against his skin and sending a shiver down his back. Toby giggled involuntarily, a rush of memories flooding his brain of being held by his hair, feeling every inch of that thick cock down his throat until it pulsed and released that salty-

“Fantastic, thank you,” Mr. Kralie said, taking it from the boy’s open palm. Toby straightened up when Mr. Kralie pointed his finger at him. “Now you know better than to leave things like this around, Toby.”

“Oh, it was me,” Mr. Wright started, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder. “I was the one asking him about it. I shouldn’t have distracted him. He’s really responsible; hardly lets me waste the storage on that thing.”

“Yeah?” the other teacher asked, turning thoughtful. “Well, he takes it seriously, I’ll give him that.”

“Oh, yeah, big time,” Mr. Wright added.

The man shot him a wink, and Toby’s knees felt like jelly. He carelessly chewed on his bottom lip, stifling a giggle.

“Bell’s about to ring, Tim,” Mr. Kralie said. “Thanks again.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Toby said, hopping to his side. It took everything in him not to latch onto his arm and pull him along.

“You’re mighty kind,” Mr. Wright complimented.

Toby looked back, making sure Mr. Kralie wasn’t looking when he pulled the man’s sleeve. Mr. Wright had just stepped out of the door when he turned, bending down to hear the boy.

“Did you get rid of the pictures?”

The man sucked in a breath, glancing around at the open hall. Students were walking in droves, hurrying to beat the bell. Teachers also walked around, monitoring the students and shouting reminders of the time.

“I did, don’t worry,” he said, speaking in a hushed tone. “Would it surprise you that I was in a film class too?”

“Were you?” Toby asked, eyes wide.

“Back in college, before I did this degree. So I know a little about a little,” he reassured. “Don’t worry. I got it covered.”

The way he said it made Toby’s stomach flutter. The man had everything under control. Toby loved the way it sounded.

“So...?” he started. “Got any more work for me?”

Mr. Wright's smile fell, going flat as he let out a breath. He opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it.

“Look, we need to-"

The bell rang, overshadowing the boy. Toby mentally slapped himself; he still hadn't packed for the next class.

"Shoot, I'm gonna be late," Toby chirped.

He turned to Mr. Wright, stopping himself before he kissed him in front of the whole school. Instead, he let his hand slide down his arm, making sure the man felt his touch.

“We can talk more after school?" Toby asked with a grin.

His small fingers gently rubbed against the man's, only teasing. The man pulled back instantly, making Toby flinch. His face paled as he stood straighter, wiping his hands on his pants as if the boy had burned him.

Again, the man didn't meet his eyes, but he nodded slowly. "I'll be there."

Then, he turned away, walking without another word. He hadn't even offered to walk him to his class. Toby was left at the door like a bride at the altar, staring at his back with big eyes and wondering what he had said wrong. 

--

Toby gave Mr. Wright the benefit of the doubt, interpreting his fear as Toby's mistake. He shouldn't have made a move like that in such a crowded hallway; he knew better than that. He planned to apologize after class and make up for it with a kiss after school. Even the thought warmed his heart, going down and down where he knew it shouldn't.

But when he walked to the man's class, he didn't find him outside like usual. Instead, the man was inside, talking to another student with warm eyes and a soft laugh. Toby didn’t mean to stare, but he couldn't help wondering what that was for. It wasn't until one of the other kids bumped into his shoulder that he shook out of it and made it to his seat.

Even when class started, the man greeted Toby with a smile; it was difficult to miss his eyes when he sat so close to the front. Now, the man couldn’t lock eyes with him, or else he’d become a stuttering mess. Thankfully, the lesson wasn’t nearly as long, just a rundown of information before he passed the tests around. 

“Thank you, Mr. Wright,” he sang as the man handed him a packet.

Instead of the usual warm response, he was met with hesitant eyes, a strained smile, and a cold shoulder. Toby frowned, turning around to find him halfway down the row, handing packets for the others to pass back.

Then, he sat at his desk and didn’t spare a single glance. Toby turned back.

Okay… no problem. Maybe Mr. Wright was busy; he could grant him a little space. In the meantime, Toby devised a plan to catch the man’s attention and hopefully sneak a small apology so the man would feel better. He just hated to make his teacher worry, especially when he had been nothing but kind to him.

It took half the class for Toby to hear the man’s chair squeak as he stood and walked through the rows, checking for progress or cheaters. Toby counted each step, hyperfocusing on every click against the tile floor. The moment Toby caught a whiff of his pine-scented cologne, he rolled his pencil off the desk. It clattered right on top of the man’s leather shoe. The boy had to stifle a grin.

Mr. Wright bent down and grabbed it, just like he thought he would. As he placed it down, Toby quickly clapped his hand over his. The man tensed up underneath, going still.

The boy looked up with a slight tilt to his head. His bang brushed down his face, giving him a clear shot of the man. And he didn’t look happy to see him, lacking that fond warmth and familiarity.

Surely, it was a cover; Toby didn’t mind. But it caught him off guard, and he lost his train of thought.

The boy’s fingers dragged down the top of his hand, down his thick fingers, and slipped his pencil from between his grasp.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

But the man didn’t leave, and Toby watched as his large hand balled into a fist. Toby recognized the shape, sucking in a sharp breath as a memory flashed in his mind. But instead of a tease, or a joke, or a soft grin, the man pointed to the paper.

“You haven’t started.”

Toby meant to, but he spent all that time thinking of all the reasons he could be busy and then devoted another portion to executing his plan. Then his mind drifted to other things, like if the man wiped the desk after he left, if he’d cleaned up the floor of his dribble, or if he took those pictures home instead of deleting them. It was an innocent mistake, his teacher could understand.

“I think I need some help,” Toby whispered. “Maybe I can do it later? For tutorials?”

“I would rather you finish it here.”

That didn’t sound like the teacher he loved. Mr. Wright would be the first to offer, all in the name of helping the boy out. 

“But it’ll be cozier there,” he tried. “And maybe we can talk? In... private?”

Mr. Wright's hands slammed on the desk, shaking the boy from his body. He sat back in his seat, adrenaline shooting down his veins. He’d never seen the man so angry, bearing a thick frown that creased his brow above a twitching eye. Even on his worst days, the man chose to talk it over rather than go headfirst into discipline. That was Toby's favorite thing about the man, his understanding nature.

So what had changed?

“Are you gonna do your work today, or not?” Mr. Wright asked.

So cold. Not an ounce of warmth was spared, not even a hint of regret or remorse.

Toby’s lip trembled. He didn’t mean to make him mad. He only wanted a little attention, a small reassurance that he wasn't crazy and the man wasn't mad at him. But if he wanted to be angry at him over something so stupid, then he could be.

“I will,” he snapped, scrunching the paper as his fist balled. "By myself."

The boy snatched his pencil and put his head down on his tightly curled arms. Toby didn’t lift his head until he heard his heavy footsteps walk off, and he didn't check if the man was watching him either. By the time the bell rang, he had a half-finished test with smart-mouthed answers written in the margins and dark scribbles from his venting anger.

The boy left his packet on the desk, throwing his bag over his shoulder, and didn’t look back as he stormed off.

--

He was bitter and quiet all day, picking at his desk in seventh period as he replayed the memory over and over. There was no point in doing Dr. Nyras' classwork, so he scribbled some answers and spent the rest of the time debating whether he should attend tutorials.

The first thing Mr. Wright would bring up was his failed test. The only upside the boy saw was earning some sympathy and getting an easy A. But on the off chance he didn't feel chaitable, Toby didn't feel like finishing that stupid test. After getting his feelings hurt, he didn't know if he even wanted to hear the man's voice.

But that was assuming the man even wanted him there to begin with.

Toby scoffed, mentally slapping himself. How could Mr. Wright be so mad at him that he'd try to leave him or, God forbid, replace him? Were there other students who could kiss him better? Who could laugh and smile and suck him off better than Toby? He would be damned if he choked on the man's dick just to be thrown away the next morning. He wanted to see the older man try to find another kid like him, then Toby would really make him regret ever knowing him.

Eugh, just thinking about it made the boy sick with jealousy.

At the bell, he found himself walking down the halls like a zombie, clutching his bag strap and sneering at everyone who bumped into him. He made it to the fork of hallways, going stiff as he thought.

Nothing was waiting for him at home. He’d even considered begging his mom for one more hour because being with Mr. Wright was the only time someone spoke to him. With his mother far too busy with cooking dinner and his father's loud mouth wrapped around the tip of a bottle, Toby was left to his own devices for the rest of the day.

Mr. Wright was the only one who seemed to remember what he said enough to care. Or pretend to. For him to throw the boy away like a piece of gum, treating him like a burden the way everyone else did, made the boy angry above all else.

Toby sucked in a breath and stormed down to the English wing. Courtesy be damned, the man owed him an apology and a big fat A for his report card on the test he ruined.

He balled up his fist and pounded on the door, folding his arms as he waited. The man took his time, but Toby could see flittering papers still strung on the wall, and the excess paper he had already torn down.

Finally, the door opened. Mr. Wright frowned, looking around the hall, and tilted his head. Toby shoved his way through before the man could speak and threw his bag to the floor.

“Toby?” he asked. “Christ, you scared me. You sounded like a staff member.”

“Good!” Toby cried. “That’ll tuh- tea- teach you to be nice."

“When was I…?” The man paused, a thought coming to mind. He sighed, pressing both hands on his waist. “Is this because I told you to do your work?”

“You yelled at me,” Toby corrected.

“Because you weren’t listening.”

“How can I?” he cried. “You l-looked at me like I did something w-wrong, like I w-was in your w-w-way.”

“I didn’t-”

“You never- n-never look at me like that. You don't. Not to me.”

“Toby-”

“I asked you f-for help, and you didn’t even t-tr- try to help me.”

“You weren’t, you were looking for attention!”

“And what’s wrong with that?!”

Mr. Wright sucked in a breath, hanging his head. The pair were left huffing and restless, but neither said a word. They stewed in the angry silence while Mr. Wright collected his bearings. Only, his face had softened, and a mournful expression fell onto him.

“Maybe…” he started, then he stopped, scratching at the stubble on his chin.

Toby expected an apology to roll from his tongue, or a new deal to mend the relationship. And this time, Toby would be the one to choke him.

“Maybe wuh-what?”

“I think you need another teacher,” he said.

Toby froze, jaw falling open, recoiling back as if the man had stabbed him. In an instant, the boy's mind was stretched with all the emotions he could experience in one short moment. He wanted to scream, wail, beat the man’s chest until it caved in for even suggesting something like that. He remained frozen, hands balled into fists.

“Toby, you’re having a hard time focusing as it is,” Mr. Wright started. “I didn’t mean for this to get so far. I- I just wanted to help you, but... I can't. Not anymore. Not like this.”

“I- I can focus,” Toby spoke, his voice smaller than before. "I will. We can- I can do better. You don't have to-"

“I think this is for the best-"

“No!” Toby shouted.

“Toby, quiet,” he scolded.

The boy was going to be sick, holding his head as he stumbled back. He couldn’t lose him. Maybe a few months ago, he could spare the emotions and feel less guilty about dropping out. Then Mr. Wright would be a fun memory, the only good memory about public school.

But this was now, and Toby didn't want to relive what it was like to be on his own, where the days blended, remembered only for how moody his father was. He became a prisoner in his own home, going days without seeing the sun, stuck pacing back and forth from the kitchen to the living room to the bedroom to the kitchen again like an animal with zoochosis.

He couldn’t go back to that. Not now.

“I can’t keep risking both of us like this. It’s not fair, not to you, not to me, it’s-”

Toby gasped for air, holding his chest as his vision grew blurrier and blurrier. But each breath got harder to contain, and he erupted into a choked sob, whimpering like a child after a bad dream.

“Oh... Toby?”

Mr. Wright knelt on the floor, holding the boy’s face in his hands. His thumb wiped away what it could, but it didn’t stop the downpour or the shivers Toby passed. The man's warm touch only made it worse, reminding him of what he was losing. It was as if the man had died in front of him, and what remained was a ghost, or a hallucination.

“It’s okay, everything’s okay,” he whispered.

Toby was an inconsolable mess of sobs, hiccups, and snot. His hands grasped his teacher's wrists, clawing them to keep stuck to his face, holding him, reassuring him.

“You can’t- you can’t l-leave me,” he sobbed. “I’ll have n-no one. I don’t wuh- wuh- want to be alone again. Please- Please, don’t leave me alone again.”

The man couldn’t stop him, and the words he was whispering were lost on the boy’s ears. He tried to pull away, but Toby’s fingers dug into his sleeve, tugging him closer and keeping him kneeling before him.

“No! You can’t!”

“Toby-”

“Don’t leave, please, d-don’t leave,” he cried.

“I won’t,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Mr. Wright slid his hands from the boy’s face to his shoulders, gently prying off the boy's death grip. Then he lifted him and rested him against his shoulder. Toby hadn’t been picked up like this since he was a little boy, but he melted in his hold, burying his snotty face against his collar. It had been a long time since he’d been regarded as such, even longer since he felt arms so warm around his waist.

He didn’t know how long the man carried him for, slowly stroking his back and walking back and forth in the quiet classroom. It was long enough for the boy to finally regulate himself, his hiccups turning into slow, sniffly breaths.

He felt like such a baby, crying and whining all over the man’s shoulder. Usually, his tears would end in a shouting match or a trip straight to the dark linen closet meant to toughen him up. All it did was give the boy claustrophobia and a fear of the dark.

But the man didn’t scold him anymore, and didn’t even try putting him down. He continued rubbing his back, knocking his head against Toby’s and pacing up and down the rows of desks.

When his tears subsided, Toby pushed himself up, not wanting to humiliate himself anymore. At least Mr. Wright looked apologetic, tilting his head with a smile.

“Feel better?”

Toby sneered, wiping his face and avoiding his eyes. He dares to threaten Toby with a new teacher, and has the gall to ask if he's alright? The man didn't get to make him feel so awful, and act like a warm smile makes everything okay.

“Are you still mad?”

Toby nodded, wordlessly. And he was getting angrier by the second, spitefully silent.

“Right,” he mumbled. “How about I make you a deal?”

Again, the boy said nothing, waiting expectantly for him to speak. The man carried him to the desk and sat back on his chair, letting the boy settle on his lap.

“You, uh, had a lot to say in your test," he said. "But you didn't finish it. I’d like you to do that."

Typical. Toby rolled his eyes, already turned off. He was ready to hitch a ride with another teacher to get home. And this time, he would make sure his mom signed him out and sent him back to homeschool.

"I’ll make it worth your while.”

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, that gets you talkin', huh?"

That's it, he was done. Toby huffed, pushing off the man's shoulder. He hoped Dr. Nyras was still here; he had a few tricks to show him.

But Mr. Wright didn't let him leave, taking hold of his waist and bringing him back to his lap. He didn't let go either, rubbing circles into his sides and keeping him securely in place. The boy didn't let himself get comfortable, keeping a safe distance from him. 

"I'm joking," he said. "Gosh, you really have it out for me."

Again, the boy said nothing, folding his arms to his chest. Toby was trying to be serious; his feelings were still hurting, but instead of taking him seriously, the man snickered and mocked his frown. It only made the boy shake with anger.

"Okay, okay," he relented. "It means I’ll, uh, give you something that you’ll like."

“A kiss?”

It was the first thing that came to mind, unfortunately.

“Better.”

So far, every time the man said better, he wasn’t lying. But he wasn't looking for better, he was looking for payback. Or a fair reward.

“A kiss first,” Toby said.

“After.”

“No, now,” the boy argued.

Again, the man paused, looking away in thought.

“How about…” he started. The older man leaned over and snatched a fresh copy from his stack in the filing cabinet. He placed it in front of him and took a pencil from the cupholder. “Do the first question, and I will.”

Toby raised a brow.

“Just the first question?”

“Mhm.”

Toby turned to the page and started reading through it. It was a simple grammar question, one that Toby didn’t even need to think about. He circled the answer and turned to Mr. Wright. Immediately, his eyes landed on his lips, a little covered by the man’s growing moustache.

“Good,” the man whispered.

Finally, the man leaned in, pressing his lips on the boy. Toby never got sick of the taste, wrapping his arms around his neck. Quickly, the boy tilted his head like he was taught and sighed deeply into the kiss. Just as the boy started to rock his hips, the man pulled away.

“Mr. Wright,” Toby whined.

“We have a deal,” he said. “Answer the next one, and you get another.”

Toby groaned, letting one hand fall off his neck, and snatched the pencil from the desk. He circled the first answer he saw, then he turned around and crushed his lips against the other. Mr. Wright’s fingers slid up his neck and tangled in his curls. Then, he yanked him away, causing Toby to groan.

"Augh, stop," Toby cried.

“You need to get it right,” Mr. Wright said.

“It is right,” Toby argued, trying to pull forward again.

Again, the man yanked his hair, holding Toby like a dog. He let go and took hold of his waist and twisted him around. His skinny back hit the man’s belly, comfortably sitting him on his thigh. Toby looked up, resting the back of his head on the man’s chest. Mr. Wright smiled, dragging his thumb lazily against the boy’s cheek.

“You’re gettin’ real bad, you know that?” he teased.

Toby sneered, looking down at his hands. "And you're getting really mean."

Surprisingly, the man didn't argue. Instead, he rested his chin on the boy's head. His thick fingers glided over Toby's, overtaking them and stroking each digit. Toby let him, marveling at the shape, the difference in size, and the amount of calluses he had on his fingertips. He heard the orchestra students build those for their string instruments; maybe Mr. Wright played an instrument, too.

"I'm sorry for yelling," he said. "I just- I want this to work, same as you. But- But the way it's going, I know it can't last. You're gettin' too comfortable with this and... so am I. And yesterday? The camera, the pictures. I wasn't thinking, and I can't lose myself like that or else..."

Toby let his shoulders drop, holding the man's hand in his small palm. Of course, that's why Mr. Wright took the SD card. If anyone found those, they could both get into trouble. And Toby would never forgive himself if Mr. Wright got in trouble for some big idea he had.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"No, don't be," he said, pressing a kiss to his head. "It's not your fault, you don't know any better."

"I thought you were mad at me because I t-tried to hold your hand," Toby added. "I knew better than t-to do that. And I was gonna say sorry. And make it up to you."

"That's sweet of you."

"Then you yelled at me, and I stopped being sorry."

"Right," he said with a chuckle. "Well, if you still wanna make it up to me, I have an idea."

Toby knew what it would take, glancing at the test on his desk. 

“But I don't want to do it right now," he complained. "Just let me take it as homework, and I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”

“No, this is the place to do it, it's tutorials. It's classwork time, not kiss-your-teacher time,” he said.

"Aw, but that's not what I signed up for," Toby teased. "Maybe I'm in the wrong class."

The man smirked, rubbing the boy's cheek with his thumb. In an instant, Toby felt those butterflies in his stomach and finally felt comfortable smiling against his touch. 

"You're cute," he complimented. “Fortunately, you're confused, and this is the right class, and I need you to finish."

Toby rolled his eyes, slumping against his body. At least the man wasn't mad, but jeez, could he not give it a break for a minute? This was their only chance alone, and he was wasting it on schoolwork.

“This stuff is stupid anyway. A dumb test isn’t going to matter in life.”

“Even if that were true, and it’s not,” he started, speaking against the boy’s ear and spreading warmth down his neck. He slowly stroked the boy’s thighs up and down, aiding in the growing excitement poking from his pants. “It matters to me. And you fallin' behind is eating me alive. I need to make sure you know what you’re doing.”

"I do.”

“Then prove it,” he said. He scooted his seat closer to the desk and rolled the pencil in his hands. “For every question you get right, I’ll give you something in return.”

Toby finally sighed and grabbed the pencil.

“How am I supposed to kiss you from here?”

“You’re not,” he said. “You lost the privilege.”

“What!?” Toby griped, turning around. Mr. Wright gently pushed the boy’s gaze back to the page.

“Relax. I’ll do you something better,” he whispered, warm breath tickling his ear.

A soft whine left Toby’s lips, his gut warming up at the feeling. Fine, just one answer would do.

He erased his first answer, finally reading the question and figuring out his problem, and circled the correct answer. From over his shoulder, he felt Mr. Wright’s gaze watching.

Then, a soft kiss brushed against the back of his neck. It wasn’t much, but it made his stomach flip with butterflies. Then he pressed another to his shoulder, beard catching on his shirt.

“Keep going,” the man ordered.

Toby went down the page, reading the question and circling an answer, reading another, and circling an answer. Mr. Wright’s hands wandered all over the boy’s body, up his shirt and down his pants. While one hand played with his sensitive nipple, the other was massaging his thigh, purposefully ignoring his growing length. Toby's body was on fire, growing restless as he reread the latest question over and over again. Finally, he made sense of the words and circled the answer.

He bowed his head for a moment as the man’s hands slipped down the waistband of his jeans. He unbuttoned it easily, sliding his thumb down and allowing his prick to breathe from the tight confines of his jeans. Toby rocked his hips, using the desk for support.

“Quit it,” Mr. Wright said. “Keep going.”

Toby looked back at the test, but it was pointless. His cock was aching, and Mr. Wright’s warm hands were so close…

The man’s hands stilled, his hand falling from under his shirt, and his other abandoning his post next to the boy's twitching dick. The boy turned, panting and frustrated.

“Hey,” he whined. “That’s not fair.”

“Sure is,” he said with a grin. “Finish your test.”

“I can’t, I’m too…” he said.

“Well, I can’t do anything about it if you stop working.”

“But-”

“We had a deal,” he said. “Either do the work, or I have to find you a new-”

“Okay, okay,” Toby argued, turning back around. With the brief clarity, he read another question and circled the right answer. Even with the man’s warm hands so still, they were so distracting.

“Read the question again,” the man whispered.

“I did, it’s right,” Toby argued.

“Read it again.”

Toby groaned, erasing his answer and rereading it once more.

'Similes are a literary tool, yadda yadda... Which of the following is... not a simile.'

“Stupid question,” he muttered and circled the right one.

“Atta-boy,” he praised, hands tightening around his waist.

Toby smirked, sucking in his lip. His cock twitched in his underwear, reeling at the word just as he did. He answered another, and another, before finally turning the page. Halfway done, and his shirt was still on his body. The deal was starting to feel more like a scam.

As the man’s fondling continued, Toby gently readjusted in his lap. It was innocent, as though he was uncomfortable. Then, he did it again, gently rubbing his groin against his thigh and stealing a sharp shockwave that spread down his thighs. He answered one more question before readjusting once more, stifling a groan as he rocked against his thigh a couple more times.

The man sighed, grabbing him by the waist again.

“Stand up,” Mr. Wright ordered.

“Oh, c’mon,” the boy groaned.

“Don’t pout,” he said. “Get up.”

Toby stood with a groan and leaned over the desk, staring closer at the page. Now, how was he supposed to get anything from up here?

Luckily, the man followed, standing behind him and leaning over the boy’s shoulder. Thankfully, his hands were ever wandering, and with the boy’s ass pointing in one direction, they veered closer and closer to the curve.

“That’s a nice view,” the man mumbled.

Toby turned, finding his ass pointed directly at the man's pelvis. His face burned up, quickly turning away to focus on the paper. Another set of shocks prickled down his legs.

“Perv,” he said.

The man snickered, but failed to deny it as he placed both hands on the boy’s back, gently moving up to his shoulders and down to the small of his back. The questions were getting longer and more difficult to answer. Tpby kept referring to the passage, flipping the page back and forth. It was torture; the man’s hands were ever present, but getting nowhere, and the answer was hidden among blocks and blocks of text that Toby was getting sick of reading.

“This is annoying,” he grumbled.

“Take your time, there’s no rush.”

Toby finally found it, stacked between two paragraphs he kept skipping over. He turned to the questions and circled them, finally able to move on.

Just as he started to read the next one, the man slowly wrapped his fingers around the belt loops of the boy’s pants and pulled them down. Toby stilled, biting his lip as he balled his fists in anticipation. He seriously doubted the man would do that to him. Or would he?

“Keep going, don’t mind me,” Mr. Wright said.

Toby quickly read through the answers and went back to the passage. The man kept sliding his jeans down until they were down to his thighs, the air quickly giving the boy goosebumps.

His warm hands settled on the back of the boy's thighs, sliding up and up until they met the hem of the boy's briefs. Toby gasped, gripping the desk and bowing his head again.

“You're so sensitive. I didn't even do anything," he teased.

"Shut up,” he whined. He took a breath and lifted his head back up. The faster he did this, the faster he could get what he wanted.

Two questions in a row, and the man finally pulled his fingers through the waistband. He pulled them down slowly, too, like unwrapping a fragile present. Toby was growing anxious about what "better" meant to Mr. Wright. Toby didn’t know if he should ask, or allow the man to have him however he wanted. If he stopped him now, who knows when they would do it again? He shut his mouth, humming softly as every scrape of his calloused fingers seemed to burn brightly into his pliant body.

“The test, Toby,” Mr. Wright reminded.

“Right, right,” he mumbled.

Only a page of questions to go, and they were each a paragraph in length. Toby took his time like the man said, flipping back and forth between the passage and the question. He flipped between two answers. One wrong move, and Mr. Wright might put the boy's pants back on.

“Take your time,” the man reminded.

He gently pressed a kiss to his back, short, sweet, and soothing. Toby relaxed, circling an answer.

The man was quiet, thoughtful. Toby held his breath.

Then, his fingers dragged down his thigh. They circled up and down his fluttering hole, pressing against it as if they would breach, but never hard enough to.

“Mister…”

“Keep going.”

It was an agonizing wait, searching for an answer. No matter how much he read, the information never stuck in his head, and he found himself reading words he swore he had never read before. And with Mr. Wright watching over his shoulder, Toby was under too much pressure.

Finally, he circled an answer, bracing himself for the man to scold him or reward him.

The man hesitated, his fingers slowing. Toby almost broke his pencil in one hand when the man's fingers slunk into him. Toby squeaked, clinging to the desk. 

Toby had never felt such a thing, wincing as he tried to readjust himself. His thick fingers worked him agonizingly slow. He was waiting for when it felt good, like the girls in the pornos made it seem.

“Keep going.”

“It feels weird,” Toby argued. “You said I’d like it.”

“And you will.”

“Well, I feel scammed, so either make it worth it, or- or get off.”

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. If the man even tried to stop, Toby was ripping the paper into tiny pieces and leaving. Maybe. 

The man chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to his back. Then, his fingers curled, picking up speed. Toby's breath hitched, exhaling shakily from the wave of shocks spreading through his body, prickling at his fingertips and down his toes.

Then, he did it again, fitting both so deeply and hitting a soft bundle of nerves that ignited him. There it was, that feeling that had him reeling and twitching and gasping as his mouth fell open.

“R- Right there,” he moaned. “I like that.”

“Do you?”

“Mhm.”

“You want more?”

“Please.”

The man grabbed the boy by his chin, tilting his head up to face the test. His touch left before he could really enjoy it, leaving him panting.

“Then finish.”

Toby groaned, mentally preparing himself before he ripped it all to shreds.

He leaned into the paper, trying desperately to separate what was happening to him from the test. The boy felt full from just two fingers, trembling as the man slowly slunk them in and out. Again, it left him wanting, never fully satisfying that itch.

Toby finished one more, but before he could think about looking at the last one, the man’s hands worked him open harder. Toby’s jaw clenched, fighting himself from pushing back into them, to ram them so much farther than he could take. His cock was throbbing below him, dribbling wet with pre. So much as grazing against the desk could send him over the edge.

“Please, Mr. Wright, I- I can’t t-take it,” he panted.

“C’mon, I know you can do it,” he whispered.

Toby couldn’t breathe. The squelching sounds filled his ears, every curve of his fingers hitting that spot so deep inside him. And that voice reverberated through his skull, sending a hot spark down his thighs and straight to his cock.

“I’ll do it after,” he whispered.

“You’ll do it now.”

His fingers' speed started to wane, and Toby slammed his hands into the desk.

“Mister-”

“Enough,” he warned. “Finish.”

Toby took a breath, staring back at the page. With a salivating mouth and hazy eyes, he reread the question. His eyes lit up. He knew the answer; he didn’t even need to look for it. In one quick motion, he circled the answer and threw his pencil across the desk.

“Done.”

Toby was pressed into the desk, feet lifting from the floor. Every thrust sent another paper flittering off the desk. He prayed no one was walking around; one loud cry might make someone curious enough to check what they were up to. But Toby couldn't stop, his voice carrying every sound into the empty room, sinful and shameless.

“Hah- Mr. Wright- Mister- Ah-”

Mr. Wright clapped a hand over his mouth, muffling his cries and closing off his air. Toby whimpered, nose still sniffly from his ugly crying, and struggled to catch his breath. 

"Relax, buddy. I got you," he grunted.

The man held him down as he rammed his fingers down to the knuckle in and out. Drool spilled from his lips, staining the man’s palms and rubbing against his own face. Toby's eyes rolled back, tears slipping down his face again. His toes curled, the force making Toby bounce and jerk against the desk. His thighs were surely bruised, hitting the wooden desk with every thrust.

He whimpered again, panting as he felt his gut tighten, cock pulsing with need. Toby couldn't reach it, nails scraping against the desk. He couldn't fuck those fingers into him even if he wanted to, sliding to and from the wooden surface by will of the man above him. 

"There you go," he praised, pressing his nose against the nape of the boy's neck. "Such a good boy."

His body convulsed, legs crossing. His little prick shot string after string onto the floor. The man’s fingers were sucked in, greedily holding on as he spasmed into the man’s strong hold.

Toby went limp, held up only by the man’s hand still clapped over his mouth. The boy was still reeling from his finish when the man pulled his fingers back, passing one more shiver as his cock dribbled another rope to the tile floor. Mr. Wright hadn’t touched it, didn’t even look at it, and still had it spilling like a water hose.

A small string of saliva pulled and separated as Mr. Wright finally let go of his mouth, lifting him off the desk. Toby felt like a ragdoll as he flopped against the man's chest, sighing deeply to catch his breath. The drool coated his lips in a thin shine, smearing down his chin, and his eyes were still bleary from another fresh set of tears streaking his cheeks.

But he felt good, blissfully satiated and ready for a nap.

“So,” Toby whispered, tilting his head up to the man. “Did I pass?”

Carefully, the man brushed the bangs from his face, finding his eyes, and smiled. He pressed a kiss to his temple, his thumb gliding down to caress his cheek.

“Aced it.”

--

Friday

--

It was always dark and quiet in the house when the boy got ready for school. Days alone weren't new to him, and he tried to see the good in it or make something up that sounded cooler. Instead of taking the bus to school, it was his first day at his big job, where he was rich and well-liked and had a nice chauffeur waiting outside.

His mother was busy doing her makeup in the bathroom while he picked which jeans were clean enough for school. They worked in tandem, taking turns brushing their teeth, and sneaking bites of Eggo waffles straight from the old, burning toaster while his father snored away in their shared room.

Toby was in the middle of tying his shoes when he called out to his mother.

"I'm staying after again!"

Usually, she responded with a "okay!" or a "text me when you're done!" Sometimes she scolded him for speaking too loudly when his father was still asleep in the other room.

Instead, the woman stepped out of the kitchen, half her makeup done with a pursed lip.

“Are you sure you have to stay again?” his mother asked. "It's a lot of gas to keep picking you up so late, you know?"

Toby stopped before the door, furrowing his brows. He hadn't even thought of that. Her job was on the opposite side of the school from the house. Taking the bus made travel cheaper and convenient. Without it, she had to stop everything she was doing and make the busy drive during rush hour to pick him up. They often got caught in traffic, making his mother anxious.

“I know, I'm sorry," he said. "But it’s this- uh, this… project? It’s really hard.”

“I thought he assigned partners?”

“Yeah, but- uh- it w-was too late for that. He said he w-would be my partner, so that it’s not unfair,” he said.

"Sounds more unfair to the other students if you ask me," she said, folding her arms around her chest. "Does he give you all the answers?"

"I wish," he said, rolling his eyes. "He doesn't like telling me. He wants me to- uh- find out the answer myself. It's harder than it sounds."

“That sounds better,” she mumbled.

"So I can stay?"

She was quiet, deciding in her head as the boy tapped his foot on the ground. If she decided against it, then the boy had no reason to go to class. Attending after-school tutorials was all he looked forward to.

"I don't know, Toby," she started. "I know it's important, but it's hard as it is picking you up when I have so much other stuff to do."

“Please, just one more day,” he begged. “And then… and then that’s it. He said this will… be the last time.”

Toby held his shirt collar to his lip, gnawing on the fabric. He didn't mean to make it sound so final. There were a million other things he could say instead. Of course, he had to say the one that he knew would guarantee an answer that worked in his favor.

“Okay,” his mother said. “I’ll pick you up at five. Please, don’t leave me waiting again.”

It was difficult leaving the man the day prior. After they finished, Toby wanted to lie in the man’s arms a little longer, listening to his soft praises and marveling at how big his hands were against his bare back. By the time the phone rang, Toby was half asleep, and still bare from his chest up.

It took an extra ten minutes to get dressed, kiss the man goodbye, and race down to the front of the school. His mother was seconds away from getting out and finding him herself when he made it to the car, red in the face with his hair mussed. It was a little more difficult explaining away the mess, but he’d given her no reason to doubt him. Thankfully, she left it alone.

Or so he thought.

“Okay, I won’t,” he responded.

She kissed him goodbye, and he took off down the dark neighborhood to his bus stop. He wasn't thinking straight when he said it; he regretted it instantly. The last time, and then they wouldn't be able to see each other like that again. In that case, another ten minutes waiting outside wouldn’t hurt her, especially if it would be the last time. And if it truly was the last time, he wanted to make it count.

--

Toby had to pretend for the day that it didn't bother him, for the sake of his teacher. He had other things to worry about, like not messing up when it came to the man.

Like always, the moment his bus arrived, he was on the path to Mr. Wright's post in the halls. It was a difficult search, but he eventually found him posted at a different corner of the hall, surrounded by coaches also on hall duty. The man seemed uninterested, leaning against the wall with folded arms and looking at anything else: the floor, the passing students, the posters on the wall.

If Toby could, he'd walk right up to him and save him, make up some excuse, and drag the man away, preferably to his classroom. But Toby still didn't know what he was and was not allowed to do. There wasn't a guidebook for kissing teachers in private, much to Toby's dismay.

So Toby did what he knew best and hid behind a corner, pulling his camera from his neck and flicking the shutter off. He tried to find the man in the frame, but the lens stopped focusing. He groaned, fumbling with the screen, and cleaned the lens with his sleeve. Finally, he pointed the camera back and tested the focus.

Mr. Wright's attention was already on him, staring with a humored grin. Dammit. Caught red-handed. To think he used to be good at this. It was like the man sensed him.

Toby shyly put the camera back down, assuming that was too much. Luckily, the other coaches hadn't noticed, far too engrossed in their own conversations to see that the man had stopped engaging. 

Instead of getting angry, the man discreetly unfurled his hand and held a peace sign against his bicep. Toby took that as permission, perking up and lifting his camera, zooming in, and caught the man on film. The flash didn't turn on, thankfully, and he snapped a few more pictures before dropping it, mouthing a "thank you" and flipping to the gallery.

It was in perfect, clear quality, and he even made a face, scrunching his nose enough that it looked like he winked. So cute! Toby grinned from ear to ear, giddy as he drummed his hands against his legs.

Even after all their private meetings, Toby got the same thrill catching him like this. It was like a game to see how many times he could catch the man in action. It was even better now that the man could pose.

The bell rang, and the coaches standing around finally recognized his existence, saying their goodbyes. Mr. Wright smiled and waved as always, rolling his eyes as soon as they looked away. He met Toby's eyes one more time, waving goodbye, and took off back to his class. Toby waved softly, watching until he disappeared behind another corner and slumped against the wall.

His giddiness had waned, and a small ache centered itself in his chest. This is how it has to be from now on. This moment, and his third-period class, would be all the time he spent with the man, and for the rest of the agonizing twenty-four hours, he would be without.

He could learn to live with it. If that's all he would get for the rest of the school year, he'd have to.

--

Toby's gut filled with butterflies as he met the man’s smile at the door of his third-period class. It wasn't the same now, only a reminder to Toby that this one fleeting moment that threatened to end with every step forward was the last he would get until class started, and after that, it would be the last time until their after-school session, and after that... there would be nothing, a weekend between, and a future that Toby couldn't see.

“Good morning, Toby.”

He hadn't realized he had made it to the end until he was stuck staring at the man, holding up the line to go into class. The boy smiled and wordlessly dipped into class. Close call, but no one would suspect the boy of anything other than being his usual unsettling self.

Even when the bell rang, the man dallied, shutting his classroom door and sneaking a glance at the boy. With a raised brow, he gave a thumbs-up in question. Toby nodded, mustering a smile, and turned back to the front. He couldn't tell if any of it was a test or if Mr. Wright was being his usual friendly self.

Toby kept it to himself, sucking it down and trying to focus on his lesson before he got himself in trouble again. He pulled out his notebook like usual, sat tall like usual, and when class finally started, he listened to the man start the lesson without a single disruption.

As soon as his paper was handed to him, he silently smiled and read through the assignment. It was Friday, so the man always gave an easy assignment to give students time to finish late work.

He finished easily and had no late work after finishing it all in tutorials. Without an excuse to see the man, there really was no last time. He hoped the man could think of something; maybe he needed to grade some more. Or maybe he was preparing for another test. Toby would offer to rearrange the whole filing cabinet if it meant he had an excuse to stay.

At the bell, Toby waited for everyone to leave, slowly putting away his things until they were the only ones left. Mr. Wright took the paper from his desk before Toby could hide it.

“Looks good,” he said.

Toby sighed, clutching the bag strap hanging on his shoulder.

“You, uh, need any help later?”

“Nah, it’s Friday,” he said. “I’ll put grades in and call it a day.”

He said it so smoothly, as if it were an average conversation. And it should’ve been innocent small talk, where nothing else could be read between the lines. But they weren’t average, and hadn’t been for a whole week. Again, the man brushed the boy off as if he were nothing, as if they were nothing.

“So, I guess I don’t need to come to tutorials,” Toby mumbled.

“Who said?” Mr. Wright asked. “I think you worked hard enough this week.”

Toby perked up, tilting his head like a dog. “What are we gonna do?”

“It’s a surprise,” he whispered. “But you’ll like it.”

Again, the boy was riding on cloud nine, forgetting all of his worries in an instant. He felt like his heart would give out from how frequently he went from happy to sad, to angry, to happy again.

"Good, good, uh, then I'll see you," Toby said quickly.

He turned away, trying to give the man his space, when he caught him by the shoulder. Toby stopped, forced to face the man again, not that he was complaining.

"Are you feelin' alright?" he asked.

Ten seconds ago, he might've answered deceptively, but knowing he had one more shot at this, his worries ceased to be. He rested his thin hand on the man's, gently pulling it off and into his. And the man let him, not even glancing at the door, his focus entirely on the boy. Just like he always wanted. Toby beamed.

"Never better."

--

The end of the day was a drag, and his final class was the longest. The work itself kept his mind off the excitement, but once he finished, it was an agonizing waiting game. He stared at the clock, tapping his foot against the floor. Each methodical tick drove him crazy; he swore they were getting slower and slower the closer it got to time.

He was the first in line to leave, damn near shaking with anticipation. And when the bell rang, he ran down the hall, ignoring every teacher's protest. He slid between students, cutting a few off as he rushed to the English wing. Some students were still in the halls, talking with each other and the other teachers as they packed up to leave.

The boy knocked on the door, trying to be discreet about his visit and his urgency. He earned this, whatever it was. He didn’t have a stupid assignment to hold him back, and he would be damned if a teacher got in the way at the last minute.

“It’s open!”

Toby tilted his head, peering into the class. He heard his voice, and yet, the door stayed closed. So, Toby tried the handle, pulling it open. He stuck his head in, finding the man still at his desk.

“Maintenance fixed it,” he said. “Don’t have to lock you in anymore.”

Toby pouted, letting the door fall shut behind him, hearing it click shut.

“Does anyone else know that?” Toby asked.

“Only you… and maintenance,” he said.

“Then you won’t get in trouble if it’s locked one more day, right?”

The man was thoughtful, a smirk forming on his face. He dug into his pocket, shaking his keys out before tossing them over to the boy, who caught them after a brief fumble.

"I like the way you think," he said. 

Toby got the hint, hopping over to the door and locking it himself. The sound of the lock clicking and the handle stuck in place made the boy warm inside.

He locked himself in with Mr. Wright.

Toby didn’t have time to waste, turning to find the man still on the computer. He sauntered over, looking over his shoulder, and saw the grades still open with the man actively inputting them. If Toby had time to waste, he'd be nosy and watch. He was offended that the man found his work more important.

He hoisted himself onto the desk, swinging his legs. "Wh- Whatcha doing?"

"Grades, I told you," he said. "I would've had more time, but you got here pretty quick. Were you runnin' down the halls?"

"A little."

"Gotta be more careful than that."

Toby shrugged. "I missed you."

The man smirked, "You're sweet."

"Did you miss me?" he asked.

"Of course," he said, meeting the boy's eyes with a warm smile. Then, he carried on inputting more grades. 

"You gonna prove it?"

"I will. After."

Toby waited in the silence for a moment, giving Mr. Wright the benefit of the doubt. But his patience wore thin in a matter of seconds. He didn't like being put on the back burner, and he didn't have time to waste. Mr. Wright would have plenty of time to catch up on Monday when the boy was absent from their session.

Without thinking, the boy leaned over and hit the power button like he’d seen Mr. Wright do before.

“Hey- Toby?” he scolded.

He giggled, swinging his legs innocently until they caught on the armrest of the chair, swiveling him over to face him.

“That wasn’t cool."

"You know wuh- what's not cool? Ignoring me."

"I wasn't ignoring you, I'm busy," he said. "You gotta learn to be more patient. What's the rush?"

Toby paused, looking at the man with guilty eyes. If he told him now, he would never hear the end of it. Hell, Toby feared even mentioning his mother's name would send his teacher running, guilty and useless.

The boy sat back on the desk, rolling his eyes. He played with the zipper of his grey jacket, slowly pulling it down. The air made his bare skin prickle as he revealed inch after inch of his creamy body for the man. And Mr. Wright was mesmerized, swallowing thickly, eyes trained on the zipper's trail until it was unhooked, draping against his sides.

“I want you,” Toby said plainly.

Mr. Wright was tense, looking between the boy's eyes. His hand balled into fists, tapping against his armrests, deep in thought. Finally, he stood, and Toby excitedly bit his lip, making grabby hands at the man's waist.

"I shouldn't reward that."

Yet, the man allowed the boy's thin fingers to pop button after button from his shirt, revealing inches of chest hair on his broad chest. Toby was drooling, sucking in the saliva already dripping down his chin. His hands slid between the man's open shirt, grabbing at every piece of plush skin he could reach.

"You wanna punish me then?" he flirted.

The man chuckled, knocking his head against his, his strong nose brushing against the boy's.

"Not my style," he said.

Toby was starting to learn that Mr. Wright liked it when he said naughty words. He had to do a crash course the night before, learning a load of new phrases that he hoped would loosen the man up. The videos were purely for research; they didn't make Toby squirm as they had before. Nothing excited him more than knowing he could test it on the man. And the reward made it all worth it. 

Their lips connected, skipping the sweet foreplay with long, wet, and hungry. Mr. Wright laid the boy back on the desk, pressing another open-mouthed kiss to his lips. The boy’s hands wandered over his hairy chest, running his blunt nails up and down the plush expanse. It was the first time he’d seen it, felt it, and if the man didn't hold him down so much, he would taste it.

Speaking of taste...

The boy pulled away, letting the back of his head hit the desk, and spoke, “Can I do something?"

"What?"

Toby pushed the man off easily and slipped off the desk. In a blink, he was on his knees with his hands spread on the man’s thighs. Even being down here gave him a little bit of anxiety, but he was eager to prove himself since his last try was a complete humiliation ritual. At least the man wasn't hard on him about it; he hadn't brought it up since it happened. But it would be silly to think the man wasn't at least thinking about it, and Toby couldn't stand to have that be one of their last memories together.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Mhm. Just don't be mean."

Toby made quick work of his pants, unbuckling his belt and tearing it off his hips. Just as the boy undid the button, the man cupped the boy's chin.

“Wait.”

His thumb dragged down the boy's cheek, sliding over his lips. Slowly, he parted them and stuck his thumb onto the flat of his tongue. Toby obediently opened his mouth, allowing full access to his teeth.

“Perfect,” he said. “Just perfect.”

Toby thought he was done being shy, but the words were too much for his body to handle. His cheeks burned red, averting his eyes bashfully.

“Pretty too,” he added.

“Shut up,” the boy mumbled with a full mouth. 

Dropping to his hand, Mr. Wright did the rest, shimmying out of his pants and revealing himself to Toby. It was just as beautiful as he remembered, thick and pulsing. It hung low, still waking up from Toby's advances.

The boy was already panting with need and pressed a kiss to the tip, humming as he lost himself in the act. He held it in his hand and suckled on the head, spreading more soft kisses against the small divot until it pulsed against his tongue, growing a size bigger. Toby couldn't get enough.

“Alright, c’mon,” Mr. Wright ordered.

The man just hated to be teased, Toby realized. The boy was equally inpatient, sticking his tongue out and taking the man’s tip whole. He sucked and slurped like it would come off the bone, taking as much as he could before pulling off. He was taking it deeper than before, already worked up as it was. His jaw wasn’t straining as badly now that he relaxed, holding onto the older man’s thighs for support.

Mr. Wright’s soft groans were louder, too, peaking every time Toby’s tongue lapped at a specific part beneath the head of his cock. He bobbed his head back and forth, up and down, drinking as much as he could of that salty pre.

Gently, the man brought his hand back onto the boy's cheek. Toby looked up, furrowing his brows, daring the man to try anything.

But the man was slow, holding Toby’s chin as he fucked in and out of his small mouth. Toby focused on the man’s sharp breaths, his shallow moans, and the gentle rolling of his thumb against his jaw. Every sound made the boy’s cock jump in his jeans, a reminder he was doing a good job, that he was making Mr. Wright feel good.

And that made Toby feel good.

The man's grip shifted and landed on his bushy set of curls, and he pushed until the boy's round nose brushed the curly hairs above his cock. The tip pressed against the back of his throat. He gagged, mouth filling with drool and coating the man’s cock evenly.

Before he could choke, the man pulled him off, his mouth popping and leaving a line of drool down his lip. Toby coughed against his hand, swallowing thickly as he suddenly found he could breathe again. He’d have to work on that part; it couldn’t have been cute to see the boy almost puke every time he pulled off.

“Better?” Mr. Wright asked.

Toby cleared his throat, holding his neck on instinct. It was just as big as before, and his mouth could only take so much before the tip was kissing the back of his throat. But he was alive, and he didn’t feel nearly as dirty as before. And Mr. Wright’s hand felt nice against his face, keeping him focused and present. Toby grinned, springing to his feet.

“A lot better,” he responded. 

His small fingers held the man’s slick cock, rubbing it up and down like a toy. It was thicker now, pointing straight up and burning red at the top. Every time he saw it, a new wave of endorphins flooded his brain, and he welled with excitement at how big it got for him.

“Why’d you stop?” Toby asked. “I could’ve finished.”

“I have a different idea,” he said, holding his hand over the boy’s, making him go still. “But you gotta trust me.”

Toby looked up with big eyes and an eager grin. There wasn’t anything the man could do that would make him trust him any less. Even if he did go a little crazy sometimes, he made up for it. And if he didn't, Toby made him. It worked out in his favor so far.

“I do.”

Toby’s thin hands grasped the man’s shoulders, standing on his tippy toes to reach the man’s chin, and pressed a kiss there. In an instant, the man hoisted the boy into the air, stealing a playful giggle. Toby leaned back and shrugged his jacket off his shoulders, revealing all of his smooth, creamy body to him.

Like a dog, the man was salivating, watching with rapt, hungry eyes.

Toby giggled. “You like it?”

The man was barely there, feverishly nodding as he ran his hands greedily over his skin. His fingertips played with the boy's small, pink nipples, rubbing in gentle circles until they hardened. Toby’s breath hitched, softly humming and leaning into the man’s strong hands.

“Beautiful,” he mumbled. His finger glided over the expanse of his chest, running down his bare thighs as if it were the first time he was seeing them.

Toby curled his fingers into his dark hair and moaned softly against the man’s ear, desperately riding his thigh to get a little friction.

“You’re so soft,” he mumbled. “So soft.”

The man’s rough lips pulled away and brushed against his shoulders, his collarbones, down to the center of his chest. He felt like a prince as the man slowly peeled the boy's shoes off his feet, letting them drop to the floor one by one. The act was cute, but Toby was hard now, and he wasn't getting any less excited.

“You’re going so slow,” Toby groaned.

“We got time,” he mumbled, scraping his nails gently against the boy’s thin legs.

“I don’t have the patience,” he said.

He took it upon himself and pushed his pants down, kicking them off his feet to the floor. The man wasn’t impressed, rolling his eyes.

“You can't give me that either?”

“No,” Toby sassed.

The boy pressed his palm into the bulge of his briefs, touching himself through the fabric. He groaned, rocking into his own hand slowly, keeping an eye on the man above. His verdant eyes darkened, and his smile slowly fell open, his tongue laving over his bottom lip.

“Go on,” Toby taunted, resting both hands on the desk to hold himself up. “Pull it out.”

Mr. Wright obliged and rubbed his thumb against the bulge in his briefs, stroking it longways. Toby never thought he’d grow tired of the way the man’s fingers looked against his flushed length, all-consuming and warm.

His thick fingers hooked the waistband of his briefs, pulling it down from under the boy’s legs. His skin prickled as his bare ass was planted on the cold desk.

“Lay back.”

Without a second thought, Toby threw his arms back and slumped against the desk with a wince. The desk was firm, nothing like the plush desk chair with its backrest. He didn’t think he looked nearly as good as the girls in those videos, but that's why they were actors getting paid, and he wasn't.

“You should get a sofa for the classroom,” Toby said. “I’d be more comfortable.”

“Well, this room wasn’t built for… this.”

“Ms. Milens has a sofa in her class,” he said. "Does that mean hers is?"

"No, I hope not," he laughed. “Anyways, that's her classroom, not ours.”

Toby tilted his head and smirked. “Ours?”

The man’s nose tinted pink, slowly stroking the boy’s legs up and down.

“Well, as much as it can be.”

“I like that,” Toby mumbled. “Ours.”

There was a funny look on his face, deep in thought, and his dragging touch slowed to a crawl. Whatever he was thinking, he dropped it, snapping back into reality and pulling the boy closer by his thighs.

“C’mere,” he whispered.

They pulled in at the same time, locking themselves into a filthy, open kiss. Toby moaned into it, allowing the man to lick the insides of his mouth, draping against his tongue. The boy’s fingers locked around his neck, picking at the collar of his shirt, and the curled strands of hair.

It had to be Mr. Wright’s favorite thing to do; they kissed more times than they touched each other. Toby couldn’t complain, as long as the man’s hands were on him, and his focus was steadfast on him.

Mr. Wright pulled away, nose dusting over Toby’s.

“I need your help.”

The man brought his fingers up to the boy’s lips, pressing his bottom lip down. Toby caught on, letting his tongue hang as he opened his mouth. Mr. Wright smiled warmly, making Toby's chest flutter.

“Good.”

He slipped his longest fingers against his tongue. Instinctively, Toby closed his lips around the digits, letting his tongue lave against them. Mr. Wright watched intently, his mouth going slack. It was like everything the boy did put him in a trance.

Toby wrapped his fingers around his wrist, smirking as he suckled down to his knuckles. They curled inside his mouth, quickly filling the space. Toby felt like an expert now, running his tongue up and down and around until they were completely soaked.

He pulled his fingers from his lips, making the boy whine. Everything they did was so short-lived that Toby didn’t get to enjoy it properly. Slowly, the man led a trail down his chest, down his smooth tummy, and even further below his twitching prick. Toby squeaked as his rough fingers circled his tight hole, pushing himself up to see.

“Ready?”

Toby was quiet, too focused on the way his fingers looked against him. So that’s why the man made him do that. He was wondering how it slipped so easily into him yesterday. The man was probably sucking on his own fingers as he watched the boy tremble, unsuspecting of what was to come. Toby’s cock jumped at the thought.

He wanted to watch it slip in this time, wanted to see how deep it could go before the boy would squirm.

“Toby?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he mumbled in response.

His fingers slowed and finally slipped inside. Toby let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, watching them disappear inside him. He felt their journey within, slowly inching in and out of him. Mr. Wright was slow, gentle, and methodical, giving Toby some peace of mind.

Again, it was a strange feeling, tight and intrusive. But he started to relax.

“You’re so cute,” Mr. Wright whispered. “You like watching?”

The way he said it made it sound dirty, and Toby would've reciprocated if he felt anything more than confusion from what the man was doing. Toby shrugged, unwilling to respond.

“Gettin’ shy already?”

“No,” Toby mumbled. “I’m waiting for it tuh- to- to feel good.”

"Give it a second, bud."

He did, but once again, the man was taking too long. Toby did them both a favor and readjusted himself, twisting his body around and forcing his fingers deeper. The tip of his finger pressed against that spot again. Toby’s mouth watered, back arching instinctually with a whine.

"There," he spat. "Right there."

"Cheater," he whispered.

Mr. Wright matched the speed; his thick fingers started to stretch, pressing against his walls and working him open. Two fingers were plenty, especially as they curled into him and pressed that spot again and again. 

Toby let himself fall against the desk, while the man lifted his legs over his shoulder. He could only hold on as the man rammed his fingers in and out, his knuckle hitting his taint again and again.

“Hah- hah- M-Mister-“ he whimpered, toes curling against the man’s shoulder.

“Gettin’ close?”

His gut was on fire, impossibly tight and aching for it, deeper, harder, whichever way worked. Those girls in the videos started to make sense now, their pleas, their cries. Gosh, it must’ve felt as amazing as he did now.

“Uh-huh. Puh- please- please-"

The man pulled out without so much as a warning, and the tight feeling in his core loosened up. Toby cried out in anger, panting heavily. Ruined again, he was going to be sick. Breathless, he sat up and grabbed at the man’s wrist, pulling it back down to his puckered hole.

“I’m not done,” he argued.

“I know.”

The man didn’t follow, shaking his grip off and instead pushed him back down on the desk.

“Trust me, you’ll like this.”

Toby wasn’t in a position to argue, as the man folded his legs forward until his knees dug into his chest. He felt like a pretzel, holding an uncomfortable position. Now the man was asking for too much of him. The only upside was Mr. Wright’s strong grip, which made Toby weightless.

Then, he felt it. The twitching tip dragged slowly down and down to his stretched hole. Toby’s breath caught in his throat, and a sense of unease filled him.

He might’ve dreamt about doing it like this a couple of times, like the night when Mr. Wright choked him on his dick. He thought then how cruel he could be, how he’d make the man beg just the way the boy did, and how nice it would feel to be inside Mr. Wright like all the big bearded men in the video. Sure, he didn’t look nearly as good and was probably half their size if not more, but the thought continued to excite him.

“This isn’t how it went in my head,” he mumbled.

Mr. Wright paused, hands stilling. Toby thought he had said the wrong thing, and the back of his neck heated up. Then, the man’s hands pushed forward, trailing up his smooth chest.

“You thought of this?”

The man’s gaze was far too strong for Toby to keep. He bowed his head, a boyish giggle escaping.

“Is that bad?”

“No, no, that’s fine. It’s cute,” he mumbled.

Toby couldn’t stop smiling, butterflies turning into a tornado in his stomach. He was warm, so overwhelmingly warm.

“What was it like in your head?”

“It was switched.”

Mr. Wright looked thoughtful, tilting his head with a curious smile. Was he... considering it?

The man leaned in, stubble brushing against Toby’s cheek.

“Do well on the next final, and I’ll think about it,” he whispered. “For now, I think you’ll like this."

The tip pushed against his fluttering hole. Toby gasped, wincing as a scared thought came to mind. It would also be a lie if he said he didn’t think about how nice that thick cock could feel inside. But Toby wasn’t expecting it so soon, not for his small frame. He already felt so full in his fingers; he couldn’t possibly take more.

“Will it fit?”

“It will,” he mumbled. “I’ll make it fit.”

All Toby knew was the man’s warmth and his soft body pressing against his, overshadowing his thin frame. It was the only consolation he could afford before the man’s hips jutted, and it slipped right in.

The tip alone stretched him wider than the man’s fingers. It was so big, stealing a cry from the boy’s lips. His fingers dug into the man’s open shirt, pulling him in.

“You feel okay?”

Toby nodded, tight-lipped and wincing. He didn’t want to scare the man, and he sure didn’t want to quit now. It didn’t hurt so much anyway as it stretched him, a foreign feeling that Toby swore could tear him apart. Mr. Wright moved his hips again, filling him more and more. The strangest part was that he could feel it all, every inch as it slid inside, and yet felt nothing at all.

“Feels alright? Does it hurt?”

“No,” he said. “It’s… weird.”

His flared head nestled deep inside, not moving but pulsing. The man fell silent, eyes flicking back and forth.

“It don’t hurt?” he asked.

“No?” he said. “You know that.”

The man was quiet, a thoughtful look falling on his face. Then, Toby felt his hips slink out.

“Then I think you can take a little more, can’t you?”

Mr. Wright held his chest down, using him as an anchor before rutting harder. Toby cried out, nails gripping the desk. It was so thick and rigid and pierced right through him.

The man’s hips met the curve of Toby’s ass, and his cock was slunk so deep that the boy felt it touch the same spot his fingers did.

And God, what a feeling.

When Toby opened his eyes, he noticed the lights above them were shaded by the man’s arching body. He looked like an angel with his hair parted and sweat clinging to his forehead. His eyes were half-lidded and dazed and boring into his. It was a masterpiece, written for Toby’s eyes only. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Toby wanted to ask what he could be sorry for, but the man’s cock slipped out of him. Just as Toby would protest, he thrust into him again, his hips slapping harshly against Toby’s bottom.

“Sorry,” he mumbled again, but he didn’t slow down, nor did he stop.

Toby’s moans were long and skipping with each deep thrust. His thick shaft split him open, and the pulsing head kissed that soft part of his insides again and again. His cock wept with pre, spilling down his little cock with every bounce.

“Sorry, sorry,” he groaned, bowing his head over. “God, you feel so good.”

That alone made the boy smile, flexing his fingers into his shirt. They both felt it, the shocks, the tightness.

Toby cried out as the man landed another hard thrust, damn near splitting him open. He held onto the boy's chest, lips hovering over his collarbone. And the further his hands trailed up, he grew deathly close to wrapping his palm around the boy’s thin neck.

“More,” Toby babbled. It was the only word that could leave his mouth.

The boy could barely speak over the wet sounds of his cock piercing the boy’s hole, mumbling incoherent sounds that Toby swore were supposed to be words.

The man had him pinned, one hand planted on the desk beside the boy’s head and the other wrapped around the boy’s calf, leaving red imprints against his pale skin. Toby bounced with every move, holding onto the man’s arm for stability as his moans drew longer and longer.

His mind was blank, empty, and his heart pounded in his chest as he ached and ached and ached.

“Mr. Wright,” he moaned, holding the man by his neck.

From beside his ear, he whispered, “Tim. It’s Tim.”

Toby lagged for a moment before he realized what that meant. His heart skipped, so full and warm. It was like permission to be equals.

But, jeez, did his name have to start with a T?

“I’m bad with my tuh- my t-tuh,” he whined, shaking his head. “That.”

The man chuckled, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Sound it out.”

“I’m not a baby,” he spat.

“Just try.”

His hips started to slow, and Toby was losing that delicious warmth in his center. He whined, nails digging into Mr. Wright’s shoulders.

“Try,” he repeated.

“T-T-Tim,” he tested, seeing the way the name flowed on his tongue. Another thrust, and the name was stolen from his lips. “Oh, T-Tim.”

“That’s it, baby boy,” he encouraged. “Keep going.”

Toby did, repeating it under his breath as the man kept thrusting, bouncing his little body against the desk. The jumbled letters all became one as tears started to roll down his cheeks, and he was brought to his limit.

Whatever made him happy, whatever kept him doing the things that made the boy feel good.

“Puh- please, mister- m-mister… Tim.”

Toby's legs trembled and retracted, his hips jerking up as he unloaded onto their tummies. One rope after another, dribbled over their chests and rubbed between the man’s belly as he continued thrusting, hitting that spot again and again. His oversensitive body couldn’t take it and became Toby a writhing, whining mess.

“Just a little more, buddy,” Tim cooed, breathing haggardly against his ear. “I know you can do it.”

Toby didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. The white light above blinded him like the flash of the camera, the constant juttering streaking his vision. He shut his eyes, letting the feeling overtake him for the man to use him the way he wanted. Because that made him feel good. Toby made Mr. Wright- or rather, Toby made Tim feel good.

The wood shook, threatening to tip from how hard Tim was thrusting into him, desperate to fill him. Toby had seen it once before in those videos, and how loud the girls cried for it. It seemed like the only thing on their mind in the heated moment.

“Please, please, please,” Toby babbled. “I need it. I need it inside, I need it-”

It was no wonder why; he was the same. His hips jerked, sloppy and faltering. The man bowed his head into the crook of the boy's neck, and with another harsh thrust, Toby felt his cock erupt. It coated his walls, stretching him more as it fought to make room in his tight cavity.

“Ngh, yes! Yes, y-yes,” Toby babbled, digging his nails into the man’s neck.

Tim choked out a moan, hips stuttering as he let out another shot, and another until Toby swore it was leaking outside. His plush body fell over the boy, trapping him between like a weighted blanket.

Toby was in heaven, pinned by the man's strong hands and his sweating body against the firm, wooden desk. He was exhausted, his heart threatening to give out as his cock dryly trembled.

But he loved feeling exhausted and motionless, heart pounding and about to burst. It couldn’t have felt better without the man being here, mumbling the boy's name into his skin like a prayer. He breathed the boy in, pressing soft kisses against his chest while Toby's fingers curled into his mussed hair.

They stayed glued like that for a while, catching their breaths for their heart to slow. The man leaned up slowly, his hair tickling the boy’s nose as it draped over his face.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Toby nodded, lazy and slow, and played with the strand dangling in his face. Even after it ended, he was riding a high, so full and wet.

But it ended, and a cold realization hit him.

This was the last time. He wouldn’t be allowed this again, not in private. Who knew when he would do this again? Where would Mr. Wright find the time? How could he lie to his mother without raising some eyebrows? After this evening, he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to part with the feeling of the man’s body on his skin.

The man slowly pulled out, but Toby wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him back down. Toby shivered as his hips slunk just an inch deeper, softly whining as the last of the aftershocks left his body from the man’s cock.

“C’mon, I gotta get you cleaned up.”

“Let’s do it again,” Toby said. “One more time.”

He chuckled, resting his head against the boy's neck.

“I don’t think I have it in me, buddy.”

“Sure you do. I thought you liked me.”

“I do.”

“So let’s try again. Please?” Toby begged. “Maybe I can suck you off better this time.”

“Those are filthy words leaving your mouth,” he said.

“Guess who taught me those,” Toby flirted.

They kissed once more, light and gentle despite their conditions. Toby was warm, inside and out, floating and surrounded by the man’s touch, his breath, and his words. He didn't want to leave, not yet, not ever.

“So?”

“So what?”

“Can we do it again?” he asked.

The man shrugged, twirling a curl around the boy's face. His thumb traced the boy's chin, brushing against his pouty lip.

“We’ll see on Monday.”

"No. That's too long."

"That's the weekend. Can't escape that."

Toby pouted, leaning into his touch.

“We can’t,” he said. “My- My mom doesn’t like me staying after anymore. She says it takes too long to get me. So I told her today was the last day.”

The man’s face softened, losing the humored look. Slowly, he pulled back again, and this time Toby let him. His eyes trailed over his nubile body, tracking it with his hands that glided down his tummy. It was like he knew it too, that this would be the last time. Toby didn’t like the certainty, already missing the soft glow in his eyes and his lips against his skin.

Softly, he dragged his thumb over the bead of spunk on the head of his softening prick. Toby thought he would go again, a dry heat sparking again in his gut.

But the man didn’t touch him further, pulling the boy up by his thighs, and a hand on the small of his back. Toby pushed himself up, letting the man pick him up from the hard desk, and settled them back onto his chair.

Toby was once again back in a place that brought him comfort, a familiar lap, a tight space where the only thing he could feel was the man’s hands on his back, and the man’s chest against his cheek. 

“What are we gonna do?” Toby asked quietly.

“We’ll have to stop.”

“Don’t say that,” the boy argued, smacking his arm. “I don’t like that.”

“Toby, I-”

“Think of something else.”

The man was quiet, idly stroking the boy's back like he was soaking every inch of him. He didn’t seem worried, almost like he’d already accepted it. Or maybe he didn’t care.

Toby pouted as the silence grew on, and his doubts started to surface more than his idealist hope. He tilted his head up at the man, catching his gaze.

“Why are you always so quick to stop us?”

“Because I’d rather stop sooner than later,” he said. “It would hurt less.”

“It hurts now. It’s like you don’t even care.”

“I do.”

“Then think of something.”

“I am thinking. For both of us,” he said. “You shouldn’t be doing this with me, and I shouldn’t have let it get this far.”

“Well, you did,” Toby argued. “And you can’t quit now. So stop trying to.”

The man fell silent again, solemnly averting his eyes and holding the boy closer. The comfort didn’t bring him as much joy as it should’ve, only a dull reminder that it was all temporary. And Toby couldn’t imagine a future that didn’t involve the man, not anymore.

“Maybe I should run away,” Toby mumbled. “I always wanted to.”

Tim shook his head, rubbing the boy’s shoulder as if to shake him out of it. “Don’t start that.”

“It’s true. And if you liked me as you said, you’d let me live with you.”

“That’s not how that works, I couldn’t-”

“You couldn’t, or you don’t want to?”

“No, Toby, I do. It’s just-”

Quickly, both their eyes shot open, a smile on the boy’s face, while the man regretted the words as he said them. The boy felt warm regardless, petting the man’s cheek with his thumb.

“No, no, Toby, I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t lie,” Toby scolded. “You want me to live with you? Yes or no?”

“I-”

The boy raised a brow, daring the man to lie. He clammed up, sighing as he gave in.

“I’ve thought about it," he mumbled.

“And?”

“And I know it’s impossible,” he said. “I can’t keep you, that’s out of the question.”

“Then maybe I can visit you.”

“Toby-”

“No one will know. My mom's at work all day, and the only thing Dad does when he's home is sleep and watch TV, so they never…” Toby paused, a thought coming to his head. Slowly, he spoke, “They never know.”

“That won’t work, and don’t even try,” Tim warned. “I’d be in more trouble than I am now.”

But Toby knew something that could work.

“Why don’t you pick me up?” Toby asked.

Tim winced, shaking his head. “No way.”

“You could,” he said. “My parents aren't home on the weekends. Mom works, and Dad... goes to his friends. And I’ll be alone, they won’t notice if we’re gone a few hours.”

Again, the man shook his head, hesitant.

“That’s too risky, buddy,” he said. “They’ll get worried, they’ll know you-”

“Get worried? My dad doesn’t even like me,” Toby argued. “My mom’s always working, and my sister only comes on holidays. They all treat me like I’m in the way; they hate how much help I need. I’m lonely all day and all night. I’m even lonely at school, but the only thing that makes me feel good is being with you.”

He held the man’s face in his small hands, mustering the biggest eyes he could.

“Please, can we try? Just once?” he asked. “Cos I can’t wait all weekend. Can you?”

The man was hesitant, unable to look away from his pouty lip. Slowly, his head fell against the boy’s until his breath tickled the boy’s lips.

“No, I can’t wait."

Toby giggled, pressing a kiss to his lips. They were sweeter this time, a little more hopeful, lively. They could do it; Toby already had a plan for it.

“You should give me your number,” Toby whispered into the kiss. “I’ll call you.”

“Mm, should’ve said that first,” he mumbled back.

They pulled away for a moment. Tim was a victim of his eyes again, stuck in a trance as the boy giggled, holding him by his neck. No, there was no chance Toby was ever letting go of the man.

“Then, I’ll see you tomorrow?” Toby asked.

The man pressed a kiss to the boy’s cheek before pressing his forehead to the boy's. Once, a week ago, he wouldn't have been able to hold his gaze for fear of fainting. Now, he looked at him with the same adoring eyes, and the man held him the same as though they were equals recovering from a long day of work.

“You will.”

Toby didn't know how long they could last, and he didn't care to think about it. He knew with certainty that he wouldn't last long without the man. For now, they would make it one more day. And maybe another, and another, until it started to look like forever.