by Kubaru Suki (少年好き配る)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/75627.html)

Yajima-sensei taught last period ethics.

Shimazaki Tomoharu was in last period ethics and used the time to stare at Yajima-sensei.

Tomoharu had the feeling that Yajima-sensei was very politely ignoring his staring.

In this way, Tomoharu found Yajima Shogo-sensei to be completely amazing because it was not every teacher who could politely ignore a student’s openly lustful stare and furtive masturbation. Tomoharu figured that if anything could make him fall in love with his teacher… well, that was pretty much it.

Mostly, Tomoharu was a normal second-year high school student. He got okay grades, he was polite, and for the most part he fit in. If he occasionally seemed bored by everything the school had to offer at least he had the grace to still listen to the same pop groups as everybody else and wore his hair the right way.

Yajima-sensei was mostly a normal high school teacher except for the fact that he was utterly gorgeous. His hair and his eyes were ink black and his skin was moon pale. His face was all elegant lines and smiles and his hands… oh, his hands. It was almost sinful to watch him handle a piece of chalk. But aside from that, he was mostly normal as far as Tomoharu could figure. The girls all had crushes on him because he was pretty and polite and a true gentlemen. The boys all liked him because he was tough but fair and nearly killed the track team every single year while pushing them across the finish line into the nationals.

They were both so normal that Tomoharu really couldn’t figure out how they ended up the way they ended up.

“So!” Yajima-sensei said cheerfully. “Social responsibility and civic duty!” He wrote both phrases neatly on the blackboard.

Tomoharu palmed the zipper of his jeans and the rapidly hardening flesh beneath it. ‘You’re socially responsible for my hard-on’, he imagined saying. ‘It’s your civic duty to do something about it.’

“What do we think about it?” Sensei asked enthusiastically.

Enthusiastically, Tomoharu liked to think that Sensei would drop to his knees and suck him off. Sensei had a pretty mouth. Cherry-petal pink lips that constantly smiled sweet and wide and would look absolutely fantastic wrapped around Tomoharu’s cock. Sensei was so kind that surely he wouldn’t mind when Tomoharu slid his hands into that dark hair and twisted and held on while he thrust into that generous mouth. All the way in. All the way to the base. And Sensei’s cheeks would hollow gracefully as he sucked and Tomoharu’s balls would slap against his chin as he let go and just fucked into it.

“It’s not always what we want, is it?” Yajima-sensei said regretfully.

Yeah. Tomoharu knew how he felt. If he said ‘You make me come so hard without laying a finger on me’ to Sensei, Sensei would probably make that regretful face and say ‘Shimazaki-kun, I’m sorry. Shimazaki-kun. Shimazaki-kun.’

“Shimazaki-kun?” Sensei was looking at him mildly.

Tomoharu slouched a little more and, under his desk, pressed the heel of his hand against the head of his cock. “Yeah?” That’s what he’d say if Sensei actually asked him something worthwhile. ‘Yeah, yeah, Sensei. Anything.’ He couldn’t think of anything he’d say ‘no’ to and he thought about an awful lot of stuff.

“—zaki-kun?” Sensei was still looking very mild but he was also smiling very gently.

He’d probably lose that smile very quickly if Tomoharu bent him over his desk and rubbed against his ass. Dry humping him through his clothes would be hot and fun. He wondered if Sensei would be frustrated by it and if his frustrated face was going to be prettier than his smiles. “Yeah, I don’t care,” Tomoharu said, realizing that he was missing the question. His classmates gasped.

Yajima-sensei smiled even more gently and mildly. “And that’s all you think about military service?”

Was that what they were talking about? Sensei would look hot in a uniform. He wore a tie and jacket everyday and made it look good but Tomoharu had a thing for uniforms. Probably, Tomoharu thought, he’d grow up into a real pervert someday. “I say ‘make love, not war’,” he said. His classmates tittered behind their hands. Sensei pursed his lips as though he wanted to smile in a way that was not mild or gentle or kind and Tomoharu pinched the head of his cock through his slacks. He liked his school uniform a lot. He sucked on his lower lip and looked up at Sensei through his lashes. “Don’t you think that sounds good, Sensei?” he asked.

“I think it sounds good to Shimazaki-kun,” Sensei said and smiled gently at the class in general. “War versus peace is one of the oldest ethical conflicts in the world,” he went on, going back to the blackboard.

Tomoharu scowled and slouched a little more. He also let his legs fall open so that he could have some maneuvering room when he slid his hand in to his pants. He made sure to sigh loudly, like he was really not interested in wasting his time. His classmates stared at him and then whipped away, scandalized by his rudeness. Sensei looked absently around the room even though Tomoharu was licking his lips and picturing Sensei naked. Sensei had a habit of talking with his hands and sometimes he made this cupping gesture that Tomoharu thought would feel really great on his balls. Especially if he was being pressed up against the wall and fucked hard. Sure, Sensei would have to quit jacking him off to do it but it would be worth it, Tomoharu was sure. He wouldn’t mind it if Sensei teased him and didn’t let him come right away. He’d like that.

He sucked in his stomach and got his hand down his pants and oh that was so good. It would feel better if it was Yajima-sensei’s hand, but Tomoharu had a feeling that he’d have to beg for that. ‘Please,’ he’d say. Whimper. Sensei could reduce him to that, probably. ‘Please, Sensei, touch me.’ Sensei would probably say no, just to be cruel. Tomoharu stroked himself as best he could in the limited confines he had to work with. Sensei would like it if he begged. He would say it made Tomoharu look pretty. Or no, cute. Sensei would call it cute, like some sort of dirty pervert. Sensei would watch him touching himself and say things to him in a hot, mean voice. He’d say ‘how can I say yes to such a cute face, Shimazaki—’

“—kun, please stay after class,” Sensei said as the tones rang.

Tomoharu glared at Sensei’s back and gave the head of his cock a vicious twist that made him kick himself back upright in his seat as all his classmates fled the room, going to their clubs. Tomoharu was in the go-right-home-after-school-and-get-off-t

hinking-of-Yajima-sensei club. It would serve Sensei right if he just finished himself right here, right now. He could drag his hand slowly out of his pants while Sensei watched him and he could lick his own come of his hand and say ‘Sensei, I have a little problem’ in his best butter-wouldn’t-melt voice. Sensei could watch him lick his hand clean and then clean his stomach off for him. Nice, long licks over the smooth planes of his abdomen, swirling, short licks through the wiry hair that roughened it the lower down he went. Sucking kisses over his softening cock.


Sensei was standing by the blackboard, holding a piece of chalk and looking very pleasantly distant. Sensei would probably say ‘oh, my’ and offer him a tissue.

“Yes?” And Tomoharu would have called the tone of his voice desperate as well as horny.

“Please don’t jerk off in class,” Sensei said patiently. “It’s distracting you from your studies.”

Tomoharu rebelliously not only kept his hand in his pants but he unbuttoned them, too, and shoved his other hand in as well. “You can tutor me after school, Sensei,” he said pleadingly. “I’d pick it up quick, then.”

Yajima-sensei smiled with his pretty, pretty mouth and his deep, dark eyes and said, “Oh, no, I don’t think you’d get a thing done.”

“Just touch me,” Tomoharu went for broke since he was already into the bargaining and begging stage. “Just one time. That’d be enough.” He was blatantly lying. If Sensei actually did put a hand on him he couldn’t imagine that it would do anything except make his craving stronger.

“We’re on school grounds,” Sensei said serenely. “Also,” he said, almost as an afterthought, “you’re my student and underage.”

“It’s been two years,” Tomoharu wailed. “I’m gonna die of blue balls or something!”

Sensei tsk-ed reprovingly. “You most certainly will not.”

“Will too!” Tomoharu said mulishly. “You never let me finish!”

At the blackboard, Sensei smiled. Slowly. And it was not polite or gentle or kind or distant or any other smile Sensei tended to wear regularly. It was very dark and very predatory and when he started to walk down the row of desks to where Tomoharu was sitting, Tomoharu pulled both hands out of his pants and grabbed on to his desk, half-rising out of his seat. “Tomoharu-chan,” Sensei said chidingly.

Tomoharu almost swallowed his tongue. That dangerous look could almost do it for him all by itself. All Sensei had to do was step closer and nudge his knee between Tomoharu’s oh-so-conveniently parted legs and keep smiling that edgy smile. He could lean in even closer, so that Tomoharu could feel Sensei’s breath whisper over his own lips, and he could press his knee up so that it was sharp and hard right where Tomoharu was hard and then say ‘Tomoharu-chan’ again. ‘Tomoharu-chan, just this once,” Sensei could say.

Or Sensei could reach out and run his fingers suggestively along the spine of Tomoharu’s text book, still sitting closed on his desk. “It’s one more year. You can bear with it.”

“… yeah,” Tomoharu breathed as Sensei stroked the spine again. He had such long, strong fingers. Wide palms. Not soft hands, though. Perfect hands. “Sensei… ”

Sensei patted the book cover. “Then it’s settled!” he said blithely. “I’ll expect good work from you tomorrow, Shimazaki-kun!”

Tomoharu found himself with his books in his backpack and his backpack over his shoulder and his feet at the door to the classroom without knowing quite how Yajima-sensei got him there without putting so much as a finger anywhere near his person. “Huh?”

“If you fail my class, you’ll be held back a year!” Sensei said merrily.

“Shimazaki-kun!” said the passing history teacher. “Are you having troubles? Such a bright boy like you! Study hard and I’m sure you’ll overcome!”

“Yes, Sensei,” Tomoharu muttered, ducking his head.

“A whole other year,” Yajima-sensei murmured as Uchida-sensei walked on. “Two instead of one.”

“Y-yes, Sensei,” Tomoharu couldn’t help but stutter. That voice… so close to his ear…

“Don’t make me wait,” Sensei’s voice was a kiss-like whisper against his skin.

“No… ” Tomoharu moaned. His knees were going to give out. He was going to come. Just one more whisper like that, hot and close and private.

“Do your best, Shimazaki-kun!” Sensei called gleefully from down the hall. Tomoharu didn’t know how he’d gotten all the way down there so fast or so quietly.

“Yes, Sensei!” he called back. What else could he do? Especially since he’d basically promised that he wouldn’t jerk-off in class anymore. He scowled. Sensei was amazing, all right. He taught ethics without really having any.

Share this with your friends!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *