Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/482164.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Adrian_Harris/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Adrian_Harris, Stiles_Stilinski
  Additional Tags:
      Yes_that_Harris, As_in_the_teacher, Verbal_Humiliation, Verbal_Abuse,
      Probably_triggery, Community:_kink_bingo
  Series:
      Part 12 of Chao's_Kink_Bingo
  Collections:
      Kink_Bingo_2012_(Round_Five)
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-08-10 Words: 1701
****** Sound of A Crescendo ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     Harris offers Stiles a compromise to the constant detentions.
Notes
     PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS
     For Cal
     I swear I'm not normally this mean to Stiles. It's the Kink Bingo,
     really.
     Title from 'Smooth Criminal' by Michael Jackson
     Now in Russian! http://ficbook.net/readfic/2555844/6876927
     Translated by Koi_suru_Akuma
Pressing the side of his head against the desk, Stiles watched as the second
hand ticked achingly slow around the clock. Over the past 12 minutes, he’d done
nothing but stare and hope he developed time control super powers. He’d seen
Heroes. It could totally happen. Assuming there wasn’t a writer’s strike to
fuck it all up.
Finally breaking eye contact, Stiles rubbed at the no doubt red spot on his
cheek and turned his attention back to Mr. Harris. The teacher was watching him
with disquieting intensity, and Stiles resisted the urge to scoot away from
him. He’d tried to explain how the gaze felt to Scott once, but his friend had
just given him that confused look and Stiles dropped it for his own sanity.
Sure, Harris hated him, but Stiles was pretty sure he was imagining how...
lingering, the gaze was.
Except that maybe he wasn’t, because right now Harris was seriously giving him
the creeps.
Feeling stupidly like a deer in the headlights, Stiles just stared back for a
few long minutes. Finally he gave in and broke eye-contact, ducking his head so
he wouldn’t have to see it anymore, and Harris sighed. “This situation is
getting ridiculous, Stilinski.”
No arguments from him. But Stiles was slowly learning that saying those sort of
things only got him more, longer detentions, and so he managed to bite his lip.
Something in his eyes made him think Harris knew exactly what he was thinking,
and he had to fight off a shudder. “Do you have a solution, then? Sir.”
Harris’ expression hardened a little at the delayed title, and then he gave a
sharp jerk of a nod, like he’d decided something. “I do. Either we can keep
doing this all year long - and, believe me, I can, or you can spend the rest of
this time doing something to... ease my irritation with you, let’s say. Do you
have a preference, Mr. Stilinski?”
Mouth going dry, Stiles tried to figure out of the teacher was implying what he
thought he was implying. That was... beyond illegal, for one. Maybe even worse
than being an accessory to murder. At least, it probably would be to his dad.
But then Stiles thought about telling people about this. About having to go up
to his father and explain that his teacher had offered to exchange sexual
favors for unlimited detention. At best, it would be horribly embarrassing, and
no doubt the entire school would know by the next day. At worst, it would get
thrown out, since it was his word versus the teacher’s. Not to mention any case
would take time and a lot of stress and he just didn’t want to have to deal
with that, on top of the clusterfuck his life had become.
Plus, if Harris was serious about this... that would be hours more a day he had
to do... anything else. Help Scott deal with something or research or protect
his dad or literally any of the hundreds of more important things he could
spend his time doing.
Stiles would do a whole hell of a lot more than an hour or so at Harris’ mercy
to be a bigger help.
Noticing his teacher’s gaze get harder as he waited for an answer, Stiles
nodded. “I think that could work out.”
Jerking like he hadn’t expected that answer, Harris gave a short nod, and then
a more confident one. “Wise of you.” Yeah, it really wasn’t. Kind of the
opposite. But that was the risk Stiles was willing to take. “What are you
waiting for? Come up here.” Harris stood up and moved next to his desk, arching
a brow, and Stiles hesitated for a moment before joining him. “On your knees.”
Pride twinging and heart pounding, Stiles glanced up at Harris’ face once, and
the glare that earned him made him very reluctant to do it again. Slowly, just
shy of reluctantly, he fell to his knees in front of the man. It almost
physically hurt to stay down, to not pop up and flick the guy off and take the
detentions or telling his father, but a mental reminder of all the things he
needed to do to keep his friends alive flashed through his mind.
“Good,” Harris murmured, and it sounded almost pleased. Well, as pleased as
Harris ever got. For a second there was an awkward moment where Stiles could
feel movement over his head, and then his hand came down and patted at his
buzzcut, too hard to be comfortable. “Now you’re where you belong.”
Jolting, Stiles tried to look up again, but Harris’ grip was suddenly iron,
keeping his head tilted down. “Are you comfortable? What am I saying, of course
you are. This is where you were made to be. This must be as natural for you as
breathing.”
Stomach dropping, Stiles opened his mouth to respond, but bit down on it before
he could let it out. Just a little while of this and then he was home free.
Unfortunately, Harris noticed the movement. “And the mouth opens. Eager, are
we? Not surprising. A little whore like you must live for this sort of thing.
Look at you, ready and waiting for your teacher. How pathetic.” Stiles took
several deep breaths to keep himself under control, practicing the breathing
techniques he’d learned for having panic attacks, or to try and keep Scott
under control in the early days. “Panting for it, even. You must love this,
don’t you, slut?” When Stiles didn’t react, Harris’ grip got painful. “Well?
Answer me. Tell me how much you want it.”
Biting back the initial reaction to tell him the truth, Stiles swallowed hard
around the painful lump that was his pride. “I...” The grip got even tighter,
just shy of bruising, and he had to fight not to jerk away. “I want it.”
“How. Much? I know you’re stupid, Stliniski, but I think even you can figure
this one out.”
Shuddering, Stiles squeezed his eyes shut. “I want it a lot. So much. I n-need
it.” It came out as a croak, but the words were clear, and above him Harris
shuddered.
Tone going deep and rumbly, almost like a purr, Harris loosened his hand.
“That’s right. Need. A desperate, filthy whore needs to be on his knees for
someone. Anyone, really. Is that why McCall puts up with you? Whitmore, too.
That must be how you have ‘friends’, huh?” The way he drawled out the word
‘friends’ actually hurt, and Stiles’ breath hitched. He could feel Harris’
satisfaction at that, and his stomach twisted. “How often do they used you, hm?
It has to be pretty often, to make up for what an annoying little shit you
are.”
Taking a breath to collect himself, Harris picked his hand up from Stiles’
head, petting over it once as if to soothe. “I can’t do everything I want,
unfortunately. Wouldn’t do to mark up the Sheriff’s son, would it? Much as you
deserve it. Hell, as much as you probably want it. Isn’t that right, Stilinksi?
You probably want me to slap you around a bit, treat you rough. After all,
that’s how whores are treated.”
Harris paused, so Stiles nodded. “Yes, sir.” He took a deep breath. “I wish you
could treat me rough, like a whore.”
“And why’s that?”
What the fuck was wrong with this son of a bitch? Couldn’t they just get this
over with? Fuck. “Because I am a whore. Sir.”
Harris’ soft moan of satisfaction made Stiles feel like he’d swallowed razor
blades. Finally, his hands jumped to his pants, and Stiles was able to pick his
head enough so that he was level with it. Once the teacher’s hands pulled away,
Stiles pushed forward to take it in his mouth. He was almost eager for this
part, since at least he wouldn’t be expected to keep answering the man.
While his knowledge of blowjobs was purely theoretical, Stiles knew the basics.
Don’t use teeth, do use tongue, do suck and bob. And that seemed to be enough
for Harris, who leaned against the desk and gripped the edges, murmuring
constantly about Stiles being a ‘good little fuck’ and a ‘desperate fuckwhore’.
It still made him cringe, but at least he could distract himself with what he
was doing.
Finally, Harris went tense and came into Stiles’ mouth. He choked in surprise,
sputtering around his mouthful. Little rivulets ran out past his lips as he
pulled off, but before he could spit out the rest Harris’ hand clamped down on
his jaw, holding his mouth shut. “Good sluts swallow.” Clamping his eyes shut,
Stiles forced himself to swallow the bitter liquid, clenching his hands when
his stomach turned. “And you are a good slut, it seems.”
As Stiles wiped his face off with his shirt, the teacher tucked himself away
and zipped up, before running a hand through his messy hair. “Your detention is
over, Stilinski. You may go.”
Breathing a sigh of relief, Stiles popped up to his feet. But Harris held up a
hand and he paused. “You’re fine for the rest of the month. But after that,
don’t push me.” What? That was only a little over a week! Stiles opened his
mouth to protest, but Harris’ glare stopped him. “Don’t push me. I don’t have
to give you that long. Then all you need to do is be a good boy. That’s not so
hard, is it?”
Shuddering with a mix of disgust and fury, Stiles shook his head sulkily, and
Harris gave him a thin smile back. Without looking at the man again, he spun on
his heel and nearly ran out of the room.
Well, like he’d said. Stiles would do far worse to help his friends. That fact
that he had to do it again, well... he could take that. It was an acceptable
loss. He’d just have to take a shower so that none of the werewolves could
smell it. And brush his teeth, too.
Steeling himself, he made his way toward his car. It was time to pull himself
together and do what he had to.
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