Chapter Text
When Mr. Rozanov summoned him to his office, Shane knew he was in big trouble. Shane never got in trouble at school or at home. He was a good student and a strict rule follower. The very thought of getting in trouble made him feel twitchy and nervous. So when Rozanov called his name and jabbed his thumb sharply in the direction of his office door, Shane felt a chill run down his spine.
He sat there, in front of the gym teacher's desk, trying and failing not to fidget nervously. Shane chewed his thumbnail as Rozanov sat before him, his face grim. The scary Russian gym teacher almost always looked grim, but it made Shane especially anxious that afternoon.
"So, Mr. Hollander," Rozanov began.
"I didn't do anything," Shane immediately said in a squeaky voice.
Rozanov looked up at him with a smirk. "Who said you did anything?"
Shane felt himself go red and he began to stammer. "I — um, w-well, I don't know —"
Still looking amused, Rozanov opened the folder on his desk before him. He laid each picture out towards Shane so he could see them. Shane felt himself turn even redder. Each picture was clearly pornography. Of men. Some just naked, large cocks on display. In others they did... things. Shane choked on nothing, suddenly too much spit in his mouth.
"These were in your gym locker. Found during a routine inspection."
Shane drew in a shuddering breath, trying to respond. A pit had opened in his stomach, sweat dampening his face. "I-I, um. T-those aren't mine."
Rozanov raised an eyebrow, his face no longer amused. "Not yours? They were in your locker."
Shane's chest felt tight, his heart pounding. They weren't his. Shane wasn't gay. But, thinking about it, he had an idea where they came from. But he couldn't say it.
"Do you have nothing to say for yourself, Mr. Hollander?" Rozanov said with a sigh. "This sort of... material. I will have to inform principal. Call your parents. Have meeting with counselor."
"Please don't," Shane begged in a small, pitiable voice.
"And why should I not?"
"They aren't mine," Shane repeated.
Rozanov did not look convinced. Shane could feel his lower lip tremble and he wanted to slap himself. Stop it, spot it, don't cry you fucking pussy!
The other boys in his gym class must have done this. They'd been making comments for a few weeks now, calling him a fag, throwing things at him. All because he got a boner in the showers. Not because of them! Shane wasn't gay. He was just... thinking of something else. Or something. It didn't matter. He hadn't wanted to tell anyone, make it worse. But one of those assholes put gay porn in his locker just to fuck with him and now...
"Tell me, what should I do, Mr. Hollander," Rozanov said, steepling his hands under his chin.
"I-I swear it won't happen again," Shane muttered. He rubbed the back of his neck. His skin was so hot. "Please don't tell my parents. I'll do anything."
Rozanov seemed to consider him, head cocked to the side. "Anything?"
"Please, sir. Anything."
Something seemed to flicker in Rozanov's expression. He picked up one of the pictures, held it up towards Shane to see. "Have you done this before?"
"W-what?"
Shane's mouth dropped open, face heating up even further. The picture of was of a man on his knees, sucking another's man's cock. The camera was angled so he could see how deep it went down his throat, his mouth bulging with it.
"Well?" Rozanov continued, sounding perfectly at ease. "Have you? Seems like you are interested in it."
"I-I'm not! I haven't! I'm not gay!" Shane insisted hotly.
Rozanov nodded mildly. He looked amused again and Shane's cheeks burned with embarrassment and he felt tears sting his eyes.
"OK. I will not tell principal or your parents."
"No?" Shane muttered hopefully, still trying to keep the tears from falling.
"I will not. If you do this for me." Rozanov held up the blow job picture again.
Shane's mouth fell open. He couldn't have heard that correctly.
"I — what?"
"You do this," Rozanov said, waving the picture in his face. "And I will tell no one this happened. Or I can follow rules. Tell principal, Hollander parents, put big red mark on permanent record."
Shane gaped at him. The horror at anyone else finding out. His parents. His teachers. Shane would graduate next year and he wanted to play hockey at McGill. He had his whole future planned out and if anyone else thought he was a faggot who kept gay porn in this locker in school... it was someone he couldn't bear to think about. And ratting on the shitheads who did this would only make it worse. They'd never let him live it down.
But he couldn't believe what Mr. Rozanov, his teacher, was proposing. Shane couldn't do it. He simply couldn't anything like that. Rozanov stood up and lazily strolled around his desk, stopping right in front of Shane where he sat, mind racing.
Shane swallowed thickly, looking up at him in a daze. Mr. Rozanov looked so tall from there, so imposing. He'd always been big, strong, with bulging biceps and a broad chest. He wore a red polo and khaki slacks and as he gazed down at Shane and his stupefied expression, he reached out to trace his jaw with a broad thumb.
Shane startled slightly and as he went to pull away, Rozanov grabbed his chin, keeping him still.
"What is your decision, Mr. Hollander?" he said, voice low and dangerous.
"I — um — " Shane mumbled, cheeks red and burning.
"Go on," Rozanov said with a slow grin. "On your knees. Like in picture."
Shane hadn't even said he'd do it, but Rozanov seemed to have made that decision for him. As though in a daze, Shane slid off the chair and got to his knees. The scuffed linoleum was hard through his sweatpants. He wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs, daring to look up at Rozanov as he towered over him.
"Perfect," Rozanov crooned, hand resting on the back of his neck.
The sound of his zipper lowering seemed incredibly loud to Shane's ears. The cock that Rozanov's pulled from his pants seemed huge and Shane felt his mouth go dry, his eyes widen in alarm. Rozanov chuckled, a low rumble in his chest as he pressed his hardening cock to the seam of Shane's lips.
"Show me you can be good boy, Hollander," Rozanov said and Shane felt his mouth open as if on instinct.
The taste was salty, bitter, strange. Rozanov pushed in, forcing Shane to take more than he was ready for. He made a muffled sound of protest, a whine of alarm that Rozanov ignored.
"Tsk, no teeth," Rozanov hissed, thumb stroking the hinge of Shane's jaw, prompting him to open wider.
Shane wanted this to be over quickly. He followed Rozanov's instructions, breathing hard through his nose and trying not to choke. Rozanov's sharp scent filled his nostrils. He felt lightheaded, floating. Rozanov's thumb pressed into the soft underside of his jaw, the skin of his throat giving beneath it. Shane whimpered.
Shane wasn't gay. He wasn't. But he had thought about doing this. Sometimes. When he was touching himself at night. And sometimes he thought about Rozanov. He was by far his hottest teacher, everyone said. All the girls had crushes on him. Everyone was kind of scared of him, but they all thought he was hot. And Shane was on his knees, sucking his dick like some kind of porn star.
Rozanov's cock grazed the back of his throat and Shane gagged slightly before recovering himself. Rozanov stroked his hair and muttered, "Good boy."
Those words in that voice made something hot and intense curl in Shane's stomach. Rozanov's thick fingers tugged at the hair at the base of his head and began rocking in and out, the hot slide of his cock against Shane's tongue. Spit gathered at the corners of his mouth, spilling out on his chin. Rozanov's cock pushed even deeper, sinking into the hot clutch of his throat. Shane's felt the muscle contract painfully and the tears that had been filling his eyes overflowed onto his burning cheeks.
"Very good," Rozanov said with a deep groan, pushing again and again into Shane's throat. "So good for me, Hollander."
It was easier to take each time and Shane felt his mouth falling open in obedient supplication, the slick briny taste of pre-come coating his tongue. He knew he was making embarrassing squeaks and moans, pathetic whimpers every time Rozanov's cock hit the back of his throat. His shaking hands clutched the front of Rozanov's slacks and he muttered things in Russian Shane couldn't understand.
Rozanov's thrusts increased, his heavy balls hitting Shane's spit slick chin. Shane let out a choked moan as the hand around against his throat contracted sharply and then released him. Rozanov pulled out his cock completely, leaving Shane gasping. He had no time to catch his breath before Rozanov's hot come hit his face, thick stripes across his cheeks and face, dripping down off his chin onto his shirt.
Shane moaned weakly as Rozanov dragged him up to a standing position by the back of his shirt collar.
"Good, Hollander," Rozanov said, panting slightly. "Very good for first time."
His thumb glided across Shane's cheek, smearing the mess he'd left there and pushing it between Shane's lips. Shane, feeling dazed and out of it, licked weakly at Rozanov's digits as he dragged another glob of come into his mouth.
"You liked it?" Rozanov said, pushing Shane up against the desk behind them, his knees shaking, barely holding him up.
"Wh-what?" Shane mumbled, going to wipe the remaining come off his face with his sleeve.
Rozanov stopped him with a sharp pinch around his wrist, making him whine in pain.
"You whine and cry with big sad puppy eyes and beg, 'please sir, don't tell anyone about gay porn stash' but then you liked sucking my cock so much, yes?"
"N-no," Shane groaned, trying to failing to twist his wrist away from Rozanov's iron grip.
Rozanov let go, only to reach between them and cup Shane's hard cock through his sweats. Shane let out a strangled moan, back arching despite himself.
"Yes," Rozanov said with a grin. "Yes you did."
Shane whimpered, the hard edge of the desk biting into his back as Rozanov pinched his cock, teasing at the weeping slit through several layers of cloth.
"Hnnng — please, sir —" Shane moaned desperately.
"Already so wet, like a girl," Rozanov marveled, thumbing at the damp patch of pre-come soaking through his sweats.
"Don't —" Shane squealed but Rozanov was already pushing his hand down the front of his pants and underwear, curling around his bare, leaking cock.
Shane saw stars. His sweaty hand found his way into Rozanov's red polo, hand twisting around the fabric as Rozanov stroked him. Shane's mouth fell open, filthy moans filling the room around the wet sounds of Rozanov's hand on him, Shane's copious pre-come slicking the way. Rozanov let down of his shirt collar and clamped a large hand over his hot mouth, still wet and sticky with come, but enough to muffle the slutty, pornographic sounds that poured out of him.
"So eager, so desperate," Rozanov muttered as Shane's hips thrust toward the tight fist that encircled him. "I should have fucked your face sooner."
Shane moaned brokenly into his hand, tears gathering in his eyes again as he felt his orgasm approach. The come drying on his face felt tight and itchy, the sweat dripping down the back of his shirt sticking on his skin, his face was burning with humiliation and this was the hottest thing that had ever happened to him. Rozanov's thick, heavy hands. Shane wasn't gay. But the time that Rozanov had wrapped his hands around his waist to correct his stance while stretching in gym class had featured in his masturbation fantasies for weeks. And now they were touching his mouth, his cock. He had pulled a handful of his hair while fucking his thick cock down his throat.
Shane came into the front of his sweatpants with a whimpering cry. Rozanov's hand kept twisting and stroking him as Shane twitched through the aftershocks, pulses of come still spurting out. The overstimulation started to hurt, like razor blades on the sensitive head of his cock and Shane let out a few high-pitched, wounded cries of pain before Rozanov finally released him.
He let go of his mouth and cupped the back of his neck with a sticky hand. Shane sucked in huge lungfuls of air, trying to catch his breath. Rozanov wiped his other hand on the front of Shane's sweatpants before reaching across his desk for a handful of tissue. Shane took the offered tissues with shaking fingers and wiped at his disgusting face.
Rozanov patted his shoulder and stepped back, zipping up his pants and allowing Shane to sag bonelessly against the desk. He looked down at himself in horror, at his sweats, the front of his shirt stained with come.
Shane watched as Rozanov gathered the stack of porn images he had found in Shane's locker and tipped them into the trash.
"We have deal, yes, Mr. Hollander?" he said simply, as though nothing completely insane had happened.
"Deal?"
"Yes. I do no tell anyone that you have gay porn stash in your locker and you come here, to my office, after school for ah... extracurriculars."
Shane felt that pit in his stomach reopen.
"You didn't... you didn't say that before..."
Rozanov shrugged, looking unconcerned. "How would I know you are so eager, such a desperate little cock slut? I think we are not done here."
Shane felt his face flush at the degrading words. And now he couldn't deny them.
"I'll tell someone," he said in a small, weak voice.
"No, I do not think you will," Rozanov said with a thin smile. "Then everyone will know you are desperate for cock, yes?"
Shane turned away, wiping at the angry tears that had spilled down his cheeks.
"OK. I — fine. I'll come."
Rozanov's grin was wide and self-satisfied.
"Yes, Mr. Hollander. You will."