Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7385542.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Thor_(Movies)_RPF, Marvel_Cinematic_Universe_RPF, hiddlesworth_-_Fandom,
      Real_Person_Fiction
  Relationship:
      Chris_Hemsworth/Tom_Hiddleston
  Character:
      Chris_Hemsworth, Tom_Hiddleston
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Student/Teacher, Tom_is_16, Chris_is_28, Dubious
      Consent, Lonely_Shy_Student_Tom, Charismatic_Hunky_New_Teacher_Chris,
      Teacher-Student_Relationship, Underage_Sex, Age_Difference, Tom_is_Super
      Innocent_&_Doesn't_Have_the_Internet, Chris_Has_a_Lot_of_Internal
      Battles, And_then_Loses, Fluffy_&_Smutty, Is_that_a_thing?_Let's_call_it
      a_Thing
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-08-03 Words: 21034
****** Teacher's Pet: The Miseducation of T.W. Hiddleston ******
by Laydee_Liesmith
Summary
     At 16, Tom has lived a pretty boring life. Shy, awkward and a bit
     insecure, he was quite certain that nothing interesting would ever
     happen to him. But when the gorgeous Australian walks into his math
     class at the beginning of the term, Tom soon realizes things won't
     ever be the same. His name is Mr. Hemsworth, and Tom has never seen
     anything like him before. He's warm and funny, and has an amazing
     smile. Tom doesn't know why his heart always races, or why he gets
     all flushed and fidgety, whenever he’s around the older man. He
     quickly learns that Mr. Hemsworth is more than willing to fill him
     in.
===============================================================================
A/N: Here, have some Hiddlesworth!  It's my first "contribution" to the fandom.
 Sorry (not sorry) that I made it underage!Tom getting perved on by hunky
teacher Chris.  I needed this in my life D:.  I think it actually comes out
pretty sweet (amongst all the pornz), so I hope you enjoy it!  (Plus, I
couldn't help paying homage to the fact that Tom (in real life) is terrible at
Math :3).  
I would also like to thank my magnificent teamof beta-readers for this fic!  I
had so many awesome people who offered to help me out (more than I could
actually even use!) and I appreciate it so much!  So thanks to all of you for
offering, and a special thanks to inanesanity and zhem1x5! :D
===============================================================================
First days were always the worst. 
 
Tom let out a disgruntled sigh as he settled into his seat.  He looked around
the room, taking in all his classmates who were divided up into small groups
and cliques, talking noisily and joking around with each other, as they waited
for the period to start. 
 
He looked away as he felt a familiar sense of loneliness settle over him.  It
was normal to plan with your friends where you would sit—when you had friends. 
But Tom didn’t have very many people in his high school he would consider
friends.  At least none he was close enough with who would be excited to see
that they had the same class with him, let alone even notice his presence. 
 
Tom’s circle of friends consisted almost exclusively of a few other kids from
drama club, but they were all in different grades than he was and the extent of
their “hanging” out was limited to the time they spent together during
practice.  They all led their own solitary lives when they weren’t on the stage
together.  Tom didn’t have anyone who would sit with him during lunch, or who
he could go over homework assignments with, or who he could call up at night to
discuss the day’s drama.  More often than not, Tom was on his own. 
 
So when he had walked in to class that day, Tom had taken a seat near the
window (furthest from the door) and in the front row.  A seat he was sure no
one would envy him for.  But Tom was used to that.  While he may not have had
many friends in his classes, he had gotten used to being quite friendly with
his teachers and had learned that sitting at the front of the room made
teachers like him better.  They always appreciated his enthusiasm and eagerness
to help.  And while it had earned him the title of “suck-up” or “teacher’s pet”
from his peers, Tom always knew that he could rely on his teachers to give him
a warm smile when they saw him or inquire about how his day was going.  But it
was no surprise that teachers liked Tom.  He never caused any trouble and was
generally a stellar student.  Except for when it came to Math.
 
Math, which he was, unfortunately, currently seated in. 
 
Tom had barely eked by with a C+ in last year’s math class.  And that had been
with an extra credit project his teacher, Mrs. Pierson, had been kind enough to
give him to help bring his grade up.  This year he wasn’t quite sure how well
he’d be able to do.  His schedule had been curiously missing the name of his
assigned instructor for this year’s math course, but he was secretly hoping
Mrs. Pierson would be teaching it again.  At least Tom wouldn’t have to go
through the embarrassment of being forced to do mental arithmetic in front of
the whole class if the teacher already knew that was an area in which he was
particularly weak.
 
But Tom’s hopes were dashed when he heard the door at the back of the classroom
open and he, along with all the other noisily talking students, turned toward
the door and saw someone who was most definitely not Mrs. Pierson stroll into
the room. 
 
Tom felt his jaw drop slightly as he took in the newcomer. 
 
The first thing Tom noticed was his big smile.  He had an easy smile, his eyes
creasing around his bright blue eyes when he did so.  It made him look youthful
and full of life.  But Tom could tell off the bat that this guy was younger
than any teacher he had ever had—most likely in his mid to late 20’s.  He was
impossibly tall, with a lithe, powerfully-built body.  With long blond hair
pulled back into a neat bun at the nape of his neck, and skin that looked
obviously sun-kissed, Tom could tell that he spent a lot of his time
outdoors.   He didn’t really look like the type who belonged in a classroom.
 
Tom could see the obvious muscles under his clothing—clothing that Tom wasn’t
quite sure he’d ever seen any of the teachers at their conservative school wear
before, but which worked amazingly well on him.  He was sporting silver rings
on his big hands and Tom could see an array of leather cord necklaces peeking
out of his neatly-pressed white button down shirt.  His shirt, the top two
buttons of which were left casually undone, was tucked into well-worn light-
blue jeans that nicely complemented his long legs and hugged his muscular
thighs. And he was wearing cowboy boots.
 
The only word Tom could think of to describe him was cool. 
 
“Hey everyone, sorry I’m late,” the man said, deep voice laced with an
obviously Australian accent, as he grinned around at the class, taking in each
and every student’s face, and started to make his way up to the front of the
room. 
 
Tom forced himself to close his mouth as he quickly looked away from the big
blond when his eyes passed over him.  He turned back around to face the front
of the room as he listened to the murmur of excitement pass through his
classmates. 
 
Tom watched as the man reached the front of the room and settled against the
desk, resting his hip against it and crossing his arms over his chest.
 
“So, my name’s Chris Hemsworth, but you lot should call me Mr. Hemsworth,
alright?” he said, smiling again.  “I’ll be your teacher for Math 2 this year.”
 
Tom’s eyes widened, a number of questions flooding his mind.  But it seemed as
if many of the other students had questions of their own as the man—Mr.
Hemsworth—nodded toward a student in the back, acknowledging them.  Tom whipped
around to see who it was and wasn’t surprised to see that it was Siobhan Lewis
who was sitting there with her hand primly raised and looking at Mr. Hemsworth
with a mix of amusement and clear interest.        
 
Perfect Siobhan Lewis.  She was gorgeous, with thick glossy auburn hair, big
blue eyes, full lips, and beautiful, perfectly-straight teeth.  Tom strongly
suspected she had gotten dental work, because he was sure he remembered her
having quite the overbite when they were younger.  Tom had always wanted
braces, thinking that his teeth were too crooked, but his mother hadn’t been
able to afford it.  Of course Siobhan’s parents had.  Siobhan was the type of
person who had everything Tom didn’t.  If he felt like an ugly duckling
generally, it was even worse when Siobhan was around.  She made him feel like
he wasn’t even worthy of being in the same room with her.  It was obvious by
the way she often sneered at him. 
 
And now Mr. Hemsworth’s attention was fully on her and something about it gave
Tom a bad taste in his mouth.
 
“Yes?” Chris asked in response to her raised hand, looking somewhat amused.
 
“What’s happened to Mrs. Pierson?” Siobhan asked, smiling prettily.
 
Mr. Hemsworth smiled back, and Tom’s stomach twisted. 
 
“It looks like Mrs. Pierson and her husband are expecting a baby in a few
months.  So she won’t be able to come back this year.  And that leaves all of
you with me,” Chris responded.   
 
“So where did you come from?” Siobhan asked, not waiting for Chris to give her
permission to speak again, and her friends giggled next to her.  “And how come
you’re here?  You aren’t like any of the teachers we’ve ever had before.” 
 
Tom watched as one of Mr. Hemsworth’s eyebrows rose, but the man didn’t seem
ruffled as he smiled benignly back at Siobhan and her friends.
 
“I’m from Australia, if my accent hasn’t already given me away.  I came up here
for University and to do my teacher’s training.  I was going to head back home
once I had finished up my training, but this position opened up unexpectedly
and I took the job.  So it looks like I’ll be staying in England for a little
while longer,” he explained. 
 
A murmur of interest went through the class as they all began to discuss among
each other.   Tom found Mr. Hemsworth’s backstory to be fascinating.  He
already began to wonder about what kind of person he was and what his life in
Australia had been like.  So far, Mr. Hemsworth was the most exotic person Tom
had ever met.  He wondered if Mr. Hemsworth had ever lived in the “Outback,”
and if he had ever come face to face with many of Australia’s unique animals. 
Tom suddenly found himself wanting to know everything he could about the
smiling, blond Australian.  But he knew he would be too shy to ask.    
 
“Now if there aren’t any more questions, I think we should get on to today’s
lesson-” Chris began as he pushed away from the desk, but it seemed that the
questions weren’t quite done.
 
“Wait just a minute.  How old are you, Mr. Hemsworth?” Siobhan asked, eyes
alight with mischief.
 
“I don’t quite see how that is relevant to your learning Math,” Chris said with
a laugh as he turned and walked toward the board.  He picked up a piece of
chalk and began to write the day’s topic. 
 
“It might not be, but it’ll help us all get to know you better,” she
continued.  “Don’t you want us all to get along?”
 
The class laughed.  And Tom found himself blushing at the obvious forwardness
in Siobhan’s words.  He wondered how someone could ever be as confident as
that.  And found himself wishing Siobhan would just shut up.  Mr. Hemsworth had
been giving her all his attention, and for some reason Tom didn’t like that. 
 
“What’s your name?” Chris asked, as he turned around to look at her.
 
“Siobhan,” she said, grinning widely. “Pleasure to meet you.”
 
“Siobhan, since you seem so interested in the class, how about you come up here
and help us start the lesson?” Chris asked, smiling back just as brightly as he
held out the chalk to her.
 
Siobhan’s smile faltered slightly.  But then she stood to her feet and
confidently strode to the front of the room.  Tom was sure the extra sway in
her hips was for Mr. Hemsworth’s benefit.  But he was glad when he saw the man
shake his head in exasperation.   
 
Tom couldn’t help but smile.  But that was when Mr. Hemsworth turned his way,
and, catching Tom in his grin, gave him a little wink.  Tom felt his face heat
up and immediately averted his eyes, dropping them down to the notebook in
front of him.  He didn’t look up again until he heard Mr. Hemsworth’s deep
voice.
 
“Ok, Siobhan, tell me what you know about Algebra.” 
 
                                      ***
Tom realized soon after that first day of class that Mr. Hemsworth was his
favorite teacher. Ever. 
 
But that wasn’t surprising.  Mr. Hemsworth was loved by all of his students. 
The girls were all enamored with him, batting their eyelashes at him prettily
whenever he turned his eyes on them and giggling at everything he said.  And
the boys idolized him, loving to hear stories about his time playing rugby back
when he was in school or surfing on the shores of Australia. 
 
Tom was always too shy to linger after school and talk to him, as many of the
other students did, but Mr. Hemsworth treated him just as kindly as he did the
other students when he was in class.  Mr. Hemsworth always had a warm smile for
him, his bright blue eyes lighting up, each morning that Tom walked into class,
seemingly going out of his way to catch Tom’s eye.  It always made Tom’s heart
race and his face flush, a reaction Tom couldn’t quite explain.  But he liked
the warm sense of importance that washed over him every time Mr. Hemsworth gave
him even an ounce of his attention. 
 
And even though Mr. Hemsworth had only been teaching them for a few short
weeks, Tom could already see improvements in his Math grades.  Mr. Hemsworth
was an amazing teacher, making the material relatable and far more
understandable than Tom usually found it.  But Tom was sure that part of why he
was working so hard to do better in Math was because of how good he felt when
he received praise from Mr. Hemsworth for how well he had done. 
 
Tom always felt a pleasant sense of warmth wash over him when his homework or
quizzes were returned and Mr. Hemsworth placed the graded sheet of paper down
on his desk.  Tom liked looking at his big hands as they rested on his desk. 
How wide they were, or how long his fingers, and what silver ring adorned them
that day.  And whenever it seemed Mr. Hemsworth thought he had done
particularly well, he would give Tom a little squeeze on his shoulder, and Tom
could feel the strength and warmth that those big hands possessed.  It always
did something funny to Tom’s insides, making him feel flushed and squirmy.  Tom
didn’t really understand the strange feelings, but he knew that he liked them. 
He knew that he liked making Mr. Hemsworth proud and liked the way it felt when
he smiled at him. 
 
But although Tom’s grades had definitely improved—an obvious testament to Mr.
Hemsworth’s teaching—his grades were still just average, ranging from high 70’s
to low 80’s.  Mr. Hemsworth had told Tom on a number of occasions that he had
the potential to be really great at Math; he just often made careless errors
that resulted in him losing points. 
 
He had even made a point of pulling Tom aside following class one day to tell
him that he could always come by after school for extra help if he needed it. 
Tom remembered how nervous he had been when he had been asked to stay behind,
thinking that he had done something wrong—that Mr. Hemsworth was displeased in
some way.  But when Mr. Hemsworth offered the extra help, he had placed his
hand on Tom’s shoulder and given him a big smile, and Tom’s heart had stuttered
in his chest.  He had been struck practically speechless, something about Mr.
Hemsworth’s bright blue eyes, framed by thick lashes, and how his laugh lines
became so much more pronounced, making Tom feel as if he was privy to something
special.
 
But Tom was too self-conscious to ever take him up on his offer.   When he
imagined having a one-on-one afterschool session with the tall, broad-chested
Australian, having to listen to his deep, smooth voice up close, he wasn’t sure
he’d even be able to absorb anything.  Tom wasn’t used to being the focus of
anyone’s undivided attention.  At least not unless it involved playing a role
on stage, and even then part of his ability to do it was because he could
pretend to be someone else.  When it came to Tom just being Tom, he felt
extremely awkward and uncomfortable in his own skin.  Having to be in such
close proximity with someone as charismatic and captivating as Mr. Hemsworth
would be impossible.  Tom just knew it.
 
Besides, there was another thing Tom feared.  He hated being put on the spot in
areas in which he was weak.  Math was his weakest area, and he was afraid to
show Mr. Hemsworth just how inept he really was.  But, it was also because of
that that he spent most of the time throughout class torn between basking in
the glow of Mr. Hemsworth’s attention when the man’s eyes would fall on him and
terrified that the man would actually call on him. 
 
Mr. Hemsworth was the kind of teacher who liked students to learn by doing. 
And while Tom had been fortunate enough to avoid having been called on for the
first few weeks, there was always the sense of twisting anxiety in his stomach
each time Mr. Hemsworth decided the class was going to do an example up on the
board.   Today was no different.
 
Tom had made it almost halfway through the lesson when Mr. Hemsworth took a
seat on the edge of his desk and crossed one of his long legs over his knee. 
Tom tensed up.  When Mr. Hemsworth sat down, it meant that a student was soon
going to be expected to get up.  And go to the board. 
 
“Ok…” Chris said as his eyes scanned the room of students. 
 
Tom immediately dropped his eyes down to the paper in front of him, hoping that
Mr. Hemsworth would skip him.  But luck was not on Tom’s side that day.
 
“Tom,” Chris called out, and Tom could hear the smile in his voice.  “How about
you help us with today’s problem?”
 
Tom’s stomach dropped. He suddenly felt sweat break out on his brow and his
mouth go dry.  No, no, no,Tom thought to himself, balling his hands up into
fists.   He really wanted to say no.  He wanted to adamantly refuse.  But he
knew Mr. Hemsworth would be disappointed.  And besides, no one had been able to
weasel their way out of going up to the board so far.  Mr. Hemsworth expected
every student to at least try. 
 
“Tom?” Chris asked, this time sounding confused.
 
And Tom had no choice but to look up.  He tried to force the panic off his
face, as he saw Mr. Hemsworth’s brows furrow in concern.
 
“Y-yes,” Tom said, cringing as his voice broke.  He tried to ignore the
sniggers that arose from his classmates and focused on maintaining eye contact
with Mr. Hemsworth instead. 
 
Mr. Hemsworth smiled warmly at him as he held the chalk out, beckoning him to
the front of the room.
 
“Go ahead, Tom,” he encouraged.
 
Gulping nervously, Tom slowly got to his feet and walked the short distance to
where Mr. Hemsworth was sitting.  It felt like forever, with everyone’s eyes on
him. But he soon stood in front of the smiling man and lifted his eyes to look
at him.  From where Mr. Hemsworth was sitting, they were almost at eye-level,
and Tom appreciated how much more he was able to see now.  Like the stubble
dotting his jaw or the different shades of blond in his hair.  
 
Mr. Hemsworth smiled at him again and raised the chalk.  Tom shakily reached
out to take it.  His fingers briefly brushed those of the older man’s and he
gasped softly.  When he saw Mr. Hemsworth’s eyebrows arch upward at the sound,
Tom quickly looked away.  Clearing his throat, he stepped around the large desk
and went to take his place at the front of the room.  He was shaking, he knew
he was.  But he tried to tamp down his nerves.
 
“Alright, Tom,” Chris said.  “Write this equation on the board.” 
 
Over the next ten minutes, Mr. Hemsworth walked him through the equation.  When
Tom couldn’t remember a step, Mr. Hemsworth gently prodded him until he got it
or called on another student in the class to help him.  With Mr. Hemsworth’s
gentle guidance, Tom soon found himself calming down.  His shoulders relaxed
and his breaths came a bit easier.  He started to wonder what he had been so
afraid of in the first place. 
 
“You’re doing a great job there, mate,” Chris said, grinning.  “Just a few more
steps.  Give us the product of 392 and 16 and we’re almost there.”
 
And Tom froze.  This was the part he was awful at.  He couldn’t do arithmetic
quickly.  And he definitely couldn’t do it in his head.  The pressure of 20
pairs of eyes on him wouldn’t help either.  His hand hovered over the board and
he couldn’t even bring himself to move.  And while Tom knewhow to do it (as
pitifully as he performed when he tried), he couldn’t even remember what to do
in this moment.  It was like all thoughts had flown from his mind.
                                      ***
Chris stared at the boy, who had started out shaky but who had seemed to have
regained his confidence over the last few minutes.  Now he was standing stock
still, hand hovering over the board and seemingly frozen in place.  It was so
unlike Tom.
 
And then it dawned on Chris.  The kid didn’t know how to get the answer, and
apparently that terrified him.  Chris could hear the whispers and snickers
starting to rise from the otherwise quiet classroom.  He could see Tom’s
shoulders begin to tremble.  And Chris had no choice but to act. 
 
“Ok, I think I’ll take over here,” Chris announced, standing to his feet.
 
Tom turned around to stare at him, face red and eyes wide.  Chris thought for a
second that Tom’s eyes even looked somewhat shiny, like the boy was on the
verge of tears.  It pulled at Chris’ heart strings.
 
“I want to show you guys a little trick I do with problems like these. So, if
you don’t mind, Tom, would it be okay if I finish the problem up?” Chris
offered.
 
Tom let out an audible sigh of relief, and Chris smiled encouragingly at him. 
Nodding softly Tom handed the chalk over to him.  Before he returned to his
seat, Chris laid a heavy hand down on his shoulder, squeezing slightly.
 
“Really nice work there, Tom,” Chris whispered to him.
 
Tom gaped at him for a moment, but then Chris nudged him gently and Tom hurried
back to his seat.
 
Chris continued on with the lesson, but out of the corner of his eye, Chris
watched Tom.  
                                      ***
There weren’t many things Chris had liked about moving to the small English
town, a quaint, idyllic suburb an hour or so away from London.  It was rainy
more days than not, and there wasn’t much to do in the town except go to a few
of the local pubs.  And even that was often a bust, as very few of his
colleagues were around his age.  The few younger teachers were either women who
flirted with him ceaselessly, or men who seemed to look at him more as
competition than as a friend.  Coming from his more boisterous hometown in
Australia, where people were friendlier and it was always beach-weather, Chris
felt a little out of place. 
 
But the one thing he had really enjoyed—the one thing that had made it worth
it—was getting to know his students.  And one student in particular.
 
Tom.  Tom Hiddleston. The kid was ridiculously cute.  Even though he was
probably somewhere around 16 or 17 (judging by his grade level), he didn’t have
that annoying self-satisfied entitlement many kids his age had.  And Chris
would know.  He had his own teenaged brother at home to give him more than
enough experience with it.
 
Instead, Tom was humble.  And bashful.  Shy.  Unassuming.  He was so sweet
compared to a majority of the other kids in his class.  Those kids liked Chris,
but they didn’t look at Chris with awe and adoration the way the Hiddleston boy
did. 
 
At first it made Chris a little embarrassed.  He had caught Tom staring at him
a few minutes into their first class a few weeks ago.  He had wondered if maybe
there was something on his clothes (had he spilled some of his coffee that
morning and overlooked the stain?).   But when his eyes caught Tom’s—big and
blue as they were—the boy had flushed and looked away nervously.  And it dawned
on Chris that Tom wasn’t looking at his clothes or a mess on his face—Tom was
just looking at him.
 
Chris didn’t know what to do with that unexpected information.  Tom was cute. 
But more than his adorableness, Tom was a prettyboy.  And Chris had a myriad of
tastes.  He wasn’t averse to boys, especially if they were pretty.  It wasn’t
necessarily something he went out looking for—and definitely never at his place
of business—but when his eye was caught he found that he couldn’t stop
looking.  And Tom…? Tom had caught his eye.  Long-limbed but delicate-looking,
with a sweet little mouth and pretty rosy cheeks.  His hair was a mess of blond
curls but it made him even more endearing.  He practically preened under Chris’
praise, giggling and blushing so easily, so freely.  He had an innocence about
him that one didn’t usually see in this day and age. 
 
And it was obvious Tom was eager to please.  At first Chris praised him just
because he liked the obvious boost of confidence it gave Tom.  But soon it
turned into a pleasure for Chris himself.  He liked watching how aware Tom
became of himself as soon as Chris touched him or said his name.  Chris could
only imagine what Tom would be like if he praised him in other ways.  Not about
his performance academically, but about how pretty he looked or what sweet
sounds he made… But Chris couldn’t let his thoughts stray too much.  Not while
he was teaching.  It would be hard to explain why he was sporting an erection
in a classroom full of high school students.
 
In his free time, though, Chris let himself fantasize about the Hiddleston
boy.  But it was all just fantasy; a fun way to pass the time.  He knew nothing
would ever come of it.  It would be stupid to let anything come of it.  Stupid
as in going to jail stupid.  But when he thought about it, he was almost sure
that Tom would never reject him.  Tom was clearly attention-starved.  He
clearly wantedto be the center of someone’s focus; he wanted to matter. But
just because Tom was unlikely to say no didn’t mean that Chris should do
anything about it.  Tom seemed sensitive, fragile, and Chris didn’t want to
make the kid cry.  He didn’t want to scare him.   And it was clear from how
easily the boy blushed just from Chris smiling at him that he had little to no
experience.
 
Chris had learned other things about Tom in his short time at the school. 
During the lunch break, Chris had often seen Tom eating his lunch and reading
books in the library.  He soon realized that the kid neverate in the
cafeteria.  And it dawned on him that Tom didn’t seem to have many, if any,
friends.  Chris had considered reaching out to Tom about it, but the few times
he had observed him Tom had seemed immersed in his books, happily munching on
his lunch as he read.  He had even caught Tom smiling sometimes, and Chris
found himself smiling too.  It was clear Tom enjoyed this time, even though he
wasn’t spending it with others. 
 
Chris also noticed that Tom stayed at school later than the other students
did.  As a teacher, Chris often had to stay late, whether to grade papers or
prepare for the next day.  A few times he had come across Tom lingering in the
school, even though most of the students and teachers had gone home by then. 
 
The first time Chris had become aware of it, he had been passing by the doors
to the auditorium, where he knew the drama club practiced, and had seen Tom
sitting on the edge of the stage mouthing the words from the book on his lap. 
Chris knew drama club (as all clubs at the school) had let out more than an
hour before.  The school was almost deserted, yet there Tom sat, practicing by
himself. 
 
Chris soon became much more conscious of Tom’s presence, often looking for him
at the end of the day.   If he didn’t come across Tom in the auditorium or the
library, Chris knew that he could find Tom sitting on the steps of the school,
reading, as he pulled out of the parking lot to head home for the day.
 
He always wondered why the boy stayed so long after school.  It was clear he
wasn’t sticking around to spend time with his friends.  And Chris began to
wonder whether things were bad at home.  But he hadn’t seen any worrying signs
from the boy when he was in class.  Tom was shy and quiet, but he seemed
relatively happy.  And while a little thin, Tom seemed well-taken care of,
clothes clean and pressed, hair shiny and healthy-looking.  The boy just seemed
like a loner.  And maybe he really just enjoyed school? 
 
But even though Chris was curious about the boy, he told himself to keep his
distance.  It was dangerous to be alone with the boy after school.  Tom was
sweet and trusting.  Chris knew how much the boy’s face was likely to light up
if Chris went out of his way to talk to him after school.  How much it would be
obvious that Chris had made his day.  It offered too many opportunities for
Chris to mess up.  For him to fall prey to temptation.  Chris’ thoughts were
impure, and Tom… Tom didn’t deserve that.  So Chris promised himself he would
leave the kid alone.  It was a promise he really wanted to keep.   
                                     *** 
But one day it was pouring.  It was a Friday after school.  And Chris found
himself in a situation he just couldn’t avoid. 
 
He had stayed much later than he had ever intended.   All of the faculty had
already departed—not surprising for a weekend—but Chris had messed up in
entering his grades into the computer and had to start over from scratch, which
had set him back an extra hour.  As he sat at his desk, typing away on the
unnecessarily tiny laptop keyboard, he could hear the soft sound of rain
hitting the windows. 
 
By the time he was ready to leave, Chris found himself faced with a downpour he
had not anticipated.  He was sorely unprepared; no umbrella and no jacket.
Cursing, he ran through the parking lot on the way to his car.  It was starting
to get brisk, which wasn’t a surprise for mid-October.  Chris’ clothes quickly
became soaked and he found himself shivering as he climbed into his beat up
little car.  
 
He started the engine and began to drive out of the parking lot.  He was intent
on getting out of there as quickly as possible—maybe even speeding a little—so
he could get home, get out of his wet clothes, and treat himself to a nice,
cold beer.  But when he neared the exit, close to the school’s front steps, he
slowed his car down, an unexpected sight catching his eye. He noticed a
familiar figure sitting at the bus stop, hunched over under the awning.  A
figure with a mop of curly blond hair and a book in his lap. 
 
Tom. 
 
It was later than he had usually seen Tom there.  And while it was clear that
the awning was protecting Tom from most of the rain, Chris could tell that the
wind was whipping water underneath it, spraying the boy.  Even with the water,
Tom looked quite content sitting there reading his book, hands curled around
it, protecting it from the elements.  He was wearing some type of dark-colored
windbreaker, pulled up high enough to cover his chin and ears, but Chris knew
it was cold outside. 
 
He couldn’t help but stop. 
 
Slowing his car as he eased it up to the bus stop, Chris rolled down his window
and called out.
 
“Hey, Tom!”
 
And the boy’s head shot up, as if startled.  Those big blue eyes of his were
wide with surprise, and Chris couldn’t help the smile that broke out across his
face.
 
“Uh… h-hi, Mr. Hemsworth!” Tom called back shyly, lifting his hand in a small
wave before dropping it back into his lap self-consciously.
 
“It’s raining like mad out here,” Chris pointed out.  “How much longer d’you
have to wait for the bus?”
 
“Um… I’m not quite sure,” Tom said as he nibbled on his bottom lip. “Ah… I
don’t usually take the bus to be honest.  But it was raining so hard, and I
forgot an umbrella today.  I figured all my things would get soaked, so I’d
just wait here until one comes. Should probably be a half an hour or so…”
 
Chris frowned at hearing that.
 
“Well… it’s after 6,” Chris said.  “You know the buses start to run a bit more
sporadically later in the day, right?”
 
Tom’s face fell a little as he seemed to consider this.
 
“How long have you been waiting?” Chris asked after a moment.
 
Tom looked down at his watch and his eyes widened.  It was clear to Chris that
the boy had lost track of the time.
 
“Wow… I’ve been waiting here almost an hour already,” Tom said, more to himself
than Chris.
 
“The weather’s also pretty bad, so there might be delays because of that too. 
I don’t know if I like the idea of you sitting here without knowing exactly
when—or if—a bus is going to come, Tom.   How ‘bout you let me give you a ride
home?” Chris offered.
 
The words were out of his mouth before he could even think about them.  Chris
couldn’t help his Good Samaritan nature.  He was always the person to get
involved in other people’s business. To lend the helping hand.  To go above and
beyond.  But offering to give Toma ride home was all of the things he had
promised himself he would avoid.  Like being alone with Tom.  But what was he
supposed to do?  He couldn’t just leave the kid to fend for himself. 
 
Tom looked just as startled by the offer as Chris had felt after making it, and
Chris could already see him preparing to say no so he cut him off.
 
“Look, Tom, either you let me drive you home or I’m going to have to sit here
with you until a bus comes.  There’s no one else really still in the school
right now.  So I’m not going to just leave you here.  And I’d feel a lot
happier knowing you got to your door,” Chris explained.
 
“M-Mr. Hemsworth, that’s really nice of you,” Tom said as he dropped his eyes
down to his hands in his lap, “but I don’t want to be a bother, so…”
 
“Believe me, it’d be more of a bother for me if I knew you were sitting here
all by yourself. So, come on.  Let me take you home,” Chris said, giving Tom a
big smile.
 
And before Tom could protest again, Chris was already leaning over the
passenger seat and pushing the door open.  As if he was making Tom’s mind up
for him.  With one arm slung across the back of the seat, Chris smiled
expectantly at Tom. 
 
Tom looked like he was still hesitating, chewing on his bottom lip again, as if
the thought of taking advantage of Chris’ kindness literally pained him.  But
then, as if he had resigned himself to his fate, he let out a little sigh,
shoved his book into his backpack, and then hurriedly got into the car.  Tom
slid himself into the seat and slammed the door shut behind him.  Tom gave a
little shake of his head, droplets of water flying about, before he pulled the
seatbelt across his chest and strapped himself in.   
 
Once settled, he looked up at Chris and, this close, Chris found himself
stunned again by just how cute the boy was.  His fluffy-looking curly blond
hair was slightly weighed down by the weight of the water, his cheeks were more
flushed than usual (probably from the chilliness outside), and those big eyes—a
beautiful mix of green and blue, that reminded him of the water back home—all
reminded him that Tom was young, delicate, and oh so beautiful.   
 
Chris found himself somewhat at a loss for words. 
 
And Tom must clearly have caught him staring, because he blushed—the redness of
his cheeks now more than just a result of the weather—and looked away.
 
Chris watched as the boy nervously fiddled with the straps of the backpack
sitting in his lap.  And he knew it was because of him.  He knew Tom was all
flustered because ofhim, and Chris couldn’t deny that he liked that.  To
distract himself, Chris leaned away from Tom and played with the vents for the
heaters.
 
“Let me know if you’re cold,” he said, voice breaking through the silence.  
 
“O-okay.  But I’m fine though.  Whatever temperature you want, that’s fine. 
Don’t worry about me.  It’s just… It’s nice enough for you to be doing this,
so-” Tom began, tripping over his words.
 
“Tom,” Chris said, laughing. “It’s not a favor for me to turn the heat on,
okay? So just let me know if you’re comfortable.  We can change it to whatever
you want.”
 
“Okay,” Tom said, ducking his head again, but this time a small smile was on
his lips. “Then th-thank you.  It’s nice and warm in here.”
 
“I bet,” Chris said. “You were sitting out there a long time.  I’m glad I came
across you.”
 
“Me too,” Tom said, quickly.
 
And Chris could only smile.
 
“So, where are we headed?” Chris asked as he pulled away from the curb, forcing
himself to look away from the smiling, cherubic boy.
 
“Um… I live at the corner of East End and Chester,” Tom told him.  “If you know
where that is?”
 
Chris’ brows rose when he heard the intersection.  Yes, he was aware of it. 
That location was about a 15 minute drive.  If Tom walked that, it meant it
likely took him over an hourto get home.  He couldn’t help but ask about it.
 
“Yeah, I’m familiar with that street, but do you walk every day?” Chris asked.
 
Tom shrugged, a slight movement, one shoulder going up noncommittally. 
 
“Yeah, I always have,” he answered.
 
“But… that’s a bit far, isn’t it?” Chris asked.
 
Tom bit his lip.  Something Chris was starting to realize was an unconscious
habit of his.
 
“I don’t mind the walk… Besides, paying for the bus fare is a waste of money,”
Tom said offhandedly, as he stared out the window.
 
Chris was surprised by that.  Bus fare couldn’t be more than £2, and probably
less than that with him being a student.   That Tom had to consider whether or
not it was a “waste of money,” told Chris that money was probably tight at
home.  He frowned.  But he wouldn’t pry.  It wasn’t any of his business.
 
“So…are your parents home?” Chris asked instead, in an attempt to make
conversation.
 
Tom shrugged the one shoulder again.  Another thing Chris was learning was a
habit.
 
“It’s only me and my mum…” Tom said after a little pause. 
 
“Okay,” Chris said slowly, recognizing that maybe that was a sore topic.  “Your
mum then.  Is your mum home?”
 
Tom now looked down at his lap.
 
“No… Mum’s working a double tonight.  She won’t be home until tomorrow,” he
answered, and Chris wasn’t sure if he had imagined the forlorn sound in the
boy’s voice. 
 
“Oh, alright then,” Chris said, feeling himself frowning again, but he tried to
play it off as he kept his eyes focused on the road, squinting to read the
street signs through the heavy sheets of water painting the windshield.
 
But, he couldn’t help his curiosity.  He didn’t like the idea of Tom going home
to an empty house.
 
“So… what’re you doing for dinner tonight?  Did your mum leave you something?”
he asked. 
 
“No, mum doesn’t do that.  She doesn’t have time to cook.  She’s really busy at
work,” Tom said simply, attention focused on the scenery passing by outside the
window.
 
Hearing that, Chris became silent. 
 
As if realizing that what he had just said would be construed as something
alarming, Tom whipped around quickly, staring at Chris with wide, somewhat
panicked-looking eyes.  
 
“But—!  But, it’s not like there’s not a lot of food at home.  I mean, mum
isn’t always around to cook me dinners at night, but she makes sure that the
kitchen is always stocked with things to make sandwiches, or things I can heat
up and cook myself.  Like soup. Or mac ‘n cheese.  She’s a really good mum,”
Tom said quickly.
 
Chris raised one hand up off the wheel to calm Tom, showing that the boy didn’t
need to get so worked up.
 
“Relax, Tom,” Chris said. “I believe you.  Really.  I’m sure she’s a great
mum.”
 
Without thinking about it, Chris reached over and placed his hand on Tom’s
knee, patting it in what he hoped was a soothing manner.  Tom jumped under his
touch, face flushing prettily, but he didn’t push Chris’ hand away or protest. 
Realizing what he had done, Chris tensed.  He didn’t want to make a bigger deal
out of it than it was, but he also realized he had probably crossed over some
invisible line.  That maybe he was getting too comfortable.  Squeezing Tom’s
knee gently, Chris lifted his hand and returned both hands to the wheel.
 
“I just want to make sure you’re doing ok. You know?” Chris said.
 
In the ensuing silence, Chris found his eyes drifting back to Tom.  He watched
the rosiness of his high cheekbones, the perturbed curve of his thin, pink
lips, and the stubbornness of those damp blond curls. Tom looked innocent, and
beautiful, and perfect.  Chris felt the urge to protect him and consume him all
at the same time.  He wanted.  And while he wasn’t quite proud of those
feelings, he was honest with himself that he wasn’t going to do much to push
them out of his thoughts.
 
“So, how old are you, Tom?” Chris asked, eyes darting quickly to Tom, and then
away again.
 
“I’m 16…” Tom said, but then flushed, as if embarrassed to admit it. “B-but
I’ll be 17 in February!”
 
Chris chuckled, giving Tom a bemused look.
 
“That’s alright, Tom.  Nothing to be embarrassed about,” Chris said.
 
Tom frowned, not looking at him. 
 
“People often tell me I look scrawny for my age,” Tom explained.  “I’m guessing
you asked because I look younger than I’m supposed to?”
 
Chris raised an eyebrow, but gave Tom an amused smile.
 
“Nope.  I wasn’t thinking that at all.  I asked simply because I wanted to get
to know you better,” Chris explained.
 
Tom flushed again, but this time he seemed flattered instead of embarrassed. 
 
“So… uh… how old are you?” Tom asked.
 
Chris was surprised by the question.  He knew he probably shouldn’t be.  He had
asked the question first and it was only natural that it had sparked Tom’s
interest in the same things about Chris.  It was normal for his students to
want to know more about him.  But he had tried his best to keep parts of
himself private.  Professionalism, and all that.  But Tom was different.  Chris
wanted to know more about Tom, and he didn’t dislike that Tom wanted to know
more about him as well. 
 
“I’m 28,” Chris stated, eyes back on the road.
 
“Whoa,” Tom said, somewhat in awe. “That’s so cool.”
 
Chris frowned and laughed.
 
“You’re probably the first person to ever think that,” he said, shrugging.
 
Tom blushed but let out a soft giggle that caused something in Chris’ chest to
squeeze pleasantly.
 
“Well… I mean, you’re cool.  Everything about you is cool,” Tom admitted and
then trailed off, as if he just realized what he had said. 
 
Even Chris had to blush at that one.
 
“I mean… uh… it’s cool that you’re a grown-up who… you know, has done so much
already. My life’s so… so boring,” Tom tried to explain.
 
Chris laughed.
 
“You’re only 16, Tom,” Chris said.  “You have so much time to do so much more. 
Don’t worry about that.” 
 
Tom seemed unconvinced, but he didn’t say anything in response. Instead he
brought up one of his thumbs to his mouth and began to nibble on it.
 
Watching Tom out of the corner of his eye—the way his pink, soft-looking lips
were gently closing around his finger in an unconsciously seductive way—Chris
found himself entranced.  Swallowing thickly, he had to force himself to pull
his eyes away and focus back on the road.  But it did nothing to slow the
pounding of his heart and the heat he already felt pooling in his stomach. 
 
Chris knew at that point that he had already made up his mind.  Maybe he had
made up his mind the moment he had decided to stop his car and offer Tom a ride
home.  All he had to do was give life to the words.
 
“Tom…” Chris began, eyes strategically averted from the boy, “If your mum’s not
home, what say you come over to my place and let me cook dinner for you?”
 
Tom was silent.  The absence of sound was almost deafening in the tiny car. 
Chris kept his eyes on the road as he awaited Tom’s answer, but he could feel
him staring at him.  And without even having to look at him, he knew that Tom’s
eyes were probably wide with awe and disbelief. 
 
“But-” Tom began.
 
“What’s worse? Eating by yourself, or eating with me?” Chris asked lightly,
cutting him off.  “I’m a pretty good cook.  And I’m sure it’s not too exciting
to go home to an empty house in the middle of a rainstorm.  What reason do you
have to say no?”
 
Chris could think of a dozen reasons why Tom should say no.  If Chris was a
better person, he would say no for him.  But Chris wasn’t.  And Tom didn’t say
no. 
 
So Chris drove him home.  
                                     *** 
When they arrived at the small one-bedroom house Chris was renting, Chris went
immediately to his bedroom to change out of his soaked clothes and left Tom in
the living room with a towel to dry his damp hair. 
 
In his room, Chris paced for a few moments, wondering about the situation he
had just allowed himself to get into.  He had a 16-year-old, to whom he was
very attracted, alone in his house.  He was that boy’s teacher, and no one knew
Tom was over at his house.  Tom didn’t have permission.  And Chris didn’t have
a good enough reason for bringing him over.  He was breaking so many rules. 
What he was doing wasn’t proper.  Chris knew that.  But propriety had gone out
the window a long time ago. 
 
Sighing to himself, Chris quickly stripped out of his wet clothes, opting for a
more casual ensemble of a t-shirt and lounge-pants.  He quickly ran his hands
through his hair, smoothing it back, before leaving the room.  When he walked
back into the living room, he found Tom standing at the other side of the room,
the towel around his shoulders, as he looked through Chris’ record collection. 
He watched Tom for a few moments, as the boy moved from the records, to his
bookshelf, and began flipping through a photo album.
 
Tom looked small standing there, biting his lip as he considered the photos
thoughtfully, his profile showing his high cheekbones and the remnants of baby
fat in his face.  He looked out of place among Chris’ things, and yet Chris
liked seeing him there all the same.
 
“I was thinking chicken pasta,” Chris said, breaking the silence of the room. 
“Sound good?”
 
Tom jumped, clearly startled and quickly placed the photo album back down on
the shelf, like he was worried that he had been caught looking at it.
 
Chris laughed.
 
“It’s fine if you look at that, Tom.  I don’t mind.  I wouldn’t have it out if
I had a problem with people seeing what was inside it,” Chris said as he
pointed at the abandoned album. “Besides, it’ll probably take me a good half an
hour or so to whip something up, so feel free to look at whatever you want in
here.”
 
Tom smiled and placed his hand back on top of the album.
 
“So, what do you think?  Pasta sound good?  Or I could maybe try to whip up
some burgers, but that may take a little longer,” Chris offered.
 
“No, no,” Tom said, waving his hands. “Anything you want to make is fine.”
 
Chris gave him a feigned exasperated look.
 
“What did I tell you before?  It’s no bother to me.  And I wouldn’t be asking
if your opinion didn’t actually matter to me,” Chris said.
 
Tom bit his lip and dropped his eyes to his feet.
 
“Okay, then… Um, chicken pasta sounds great actually,” Tom whispered.
 
“Good to hear.  I’m actually pretty good at this dish, so you’re in for a
treat,” Chris said with a smile.
 
Tom looked back up at him and returned his smile with a shy one of his own.
 
“Ok, you just sit tight and I’ll call you into the kitchen when everything’s
ready,” Chris said as he made to turn and leave.  But a soft voice stopped him
in his tracks. 
 
“Th-thanks, Mr. Hemsworth.  This is really nice of you,” Tom said. “You didn’t
have to do this. So… um… just… Thanks.”
 
Chris smiled at him, feeling his affection for the boy increasing even more. 
   
“It’s really no problem.  And, Tom?  You can just call me Chris,” Chris said as
he laughed.  “It’s a little… I dunno… Feels a little off to call me “mister”
when we’re having dinner together, you know?”
 
Tom blushed, mouth opening but no sound coming out, clearly not knowing what to
do with this new found privilege.  Instead he just nodded.  Chris laughed
again, and then winked at him before leaving the room.   
                                     *** 
Dinner was nice.  Chris discovered that Tom was much more talkative once he had
relaxed a bit.  In fact, he talked so much that Chris found it hard to get a
word in edgewise.  He told Chris all about his favorite hobbies, books, TV
shows, movies, and singers, eyes alight with excitement and hands moving almost
incessantly as he spoke.  A few times Chris had to remind him to take a breath
and stop to eat. 
 
But Chris found himself laughing more than he had in the last few months.  He
was having a better time talking to a teenage boy than he had talking to the
dozens of people he had met since moving to this quiet, sleepy town.  Tom’s
imagination and enthusiasm, and his genuine love of knowledge, were endearing. 
Most everyone Chris ran into lately—including himself—were pretty jaded.  But
Tom’s eyes were still wide and innocent.  Tom still saw the good in everything.
 
“This is awesome, Mr. Hemsworth,” Tom said as he forked another chunk of cream-
covered chicken into his mouth.  He had been praising Chris’ cooking all
throughout dinner.  “How’d you ever learn to cook so well?”  
 
Chris smiled.
 
“First off, I told you to call me Chris,” he reminded, and watched as Tom’s
cheeks took on a pretty pink hue.  “And, I dunno.  I’ve been fending for myself
for a while now.  I moved out of my parents’ when I was 18, and you soon
realize that things don’t taste as great when your mum’s not making them for
you.  So I had to teach myself how to cook if I didn’t want to waste away.”
 
He and Tom laughed at that.
 
“So, uh, Mr.- Um, Chris,” Tom corrected himself, “you seem like you did a lot
of cool stuff when you were younger, how’d you end up being a teacher?”
 
Chris raised an eyebrow and Tom ducked his head, as if feeling embarrassed for
having asked such a question.  Chris wasn’t bothered by the question, but he
was wondering what Tom was basing it on, when he remembered that Tom had been
looking through his albums.  They were an account of all the traveling and
adventuring he had done before deciding that he found his calling in teaching. 
 
“You’re talking about all those pictures of me, huh?” Chris asked, with a
smile.  Tom looked back up again and nodded. 
 
Chris shrugged.
 
“Hmm, yeah, I guess it’s a bit of a long story.  You want to get some ice cream
and we’ll go back into the living room so I can tell you about it?” he offered.
 
Tom sat forward and his eyes lit up, clearly pleased with the mention of
dessert.  Chris smiled.  So the boy had a sweet tooth. 
 
“Chocolate or strawberry?” Chris asked as he got to his feet and walked over to
the freezer.
 
“Um… could I… possibly have both?” Tom asked shyly.
 
Chris could only laugh as he grabbed both containers. 
                                     *** 
Chris showed Tom the pictures of his youth, from when he backpacked across
Australia with friends from high school and when he spent a year surfing at all
the best locations, working only as much as he needed to for food and lodgings,
but practically just living in the water.  He had even traveled to Asia, seeing
the sights and broadening his horizons. 
 
Tom sat there, with a big bowl of chocolate and strawberry ice cream (two
scoops of each) topped with a mountain of whipped cream as he listened
intently, eyes wide as Chris told his tales.  They had shifted into a
comfortable position, Chris sitting with one arm slung across the back of the
couch, and Tom tucked close to his side, thigh touching his, as he looked at
the photo album laid open over both their laps.    
 
As Tom flipped a page in the album, spooning the melted pink and brown treat
into his mouth, he leaned further into Chris, almost resting his head on Chris’
shoulder, and Chris had to fight the urge to nose at the boy’s curly blond
hair.  Tom was so sweet.  Nothing about their evening had changed the fact that
Chris wanted to touch him.  To taste him.  And to hear moans slipping from
those pink lips. The only thing that had changed was that he now knew Tom
better, and wanted him even more. 
  
Unaware of the sordid thoughts going through Chris’ head, Tom let out a dreamy
sigh as he tossed his head back and looked up at Chris through fine, blond
lashes.
 
“All the things you’ve done are so cool.  I really wish I had known you back
then,” Tom said, smiling somewhat wistfully. 
 
“Yeah?  Why’s that?” Chris asked, feeling a little breathless, staring into
Tom’s eyes.
 
“Well… you just… I don’t know anybody like you.  Someone so nice.  And cool. 
All the kids in school are so… so dumb,” Tom said, laughing self-consciously. 
“Or, at least, they don’t think I’m interesting enough to be worth their time. 
And I know you wouldn’t have treated me like that.  You make me feel… I dunno. 
Like I matter?”
 
Chris had had enough.  There was no way he would be able to look at Tom like
that—staring up at him with those big eyes and those parted lips, telling him
how much he liked him—and be expected not to do anything about it.  Before
Chris had time to think about it, he was reaching out, and cupping Tom’s face. 
He gently stroked Tom’s cheek and the boy let out an audible gasp, eyes going
wider as he stared up at Chris.  Chris smiled as he leaned toward Tom, his
intention clear, when he felt a hand come up against his chest, stopping him in
his place. 
                                      ***
 “W-wait!  Mr. Hemsworth!” Tom sputtered, voice coming out in a bit of a
squeak.
 
Tom stared up at the older man, his blue eyes reflecting his confusion.  The
way Chris was looking at him made his heart hammer thunderously in his chest. 
He had never been this close to him; had never been the sole focus of his
attention like this.  Tom’s thoughts seemed to race at a mile a minute.  He
couldn’t make sense of what was going on.
 
“I told you to call me Chris,” Chris murmured as he sat back.  But only just
slightly.  Tom still felt crowded by Chris’ incredible bulk.
 
Tom swallowed, throat feeling dry.  His eyes shifted, looking at everything but
Chris.  Tom was aware of the feeling of Chris’ hard chest under his hand, the
only thing that was maintaining the small distance between them.  And Chris was
still cupping his cheek, his hand a distractingly warm touch on Tom’s skin. 
 
It was all making it hard for Tom to process what had just happened.  Had Chris
leaned in on purpose? But that couldn’t have been what it was.  Face burning
with embarrassment, Tom told himself that he must have misconstrued his
intentions. That had to be what it was. He wanted Mr. Hemsworth’s attention so
badly that he had imagined something that just wasn’t there. But then he was
pulled out of his thoughts by the sudden heavy weight of Chris’ hand on his
thigh.  On the inside of his thigh, so close to his…. And Tom jumped. 
 
Eyes snapping back up to Chris’, Tom couldn’t help his knee-jerk reaction of
slamming his legs shut, effectively trapping Chris’ hand.     
 
“U-um… I don’t understand.  What’re you-?” Tom stuttered out, eyes dropping
down to stare at Chris’ hand and then back up to the man’s relaxed face.  
 
But Chris made no effort to move his hand.  Instead, he used his thumb to
stroke the inside of Tom’s thigh and a soft mewl of panic escaped Tom’s
throat.  He blushed in embarrassment, dropping his eyes to his lap again. 
 
He wanted to move Chris’ hand; it was making it so hard to think.  No one had
ever touched him there before, and Tom was shocked by how sensitivehe felt
there.  How it made his breath hitch and his heart pound.  He was afraid he
would get excited. 
 
And Tom couldn’t afford for his thoughts to get clouded by his surging
hormones.  He was already so very confused.  Thoughts racing, Tom tried to
figure out if Chris was playing with him.  Was this some type of joke?  If so,
it was a cruel one.  But Tom felt guilty even thinking that of Chris.  Chris
just wasn’t that type of person—he had been so nice, so caring. But the
alternative was much harder to believe.  It was unfathomable to Tom that Chris
was… actually interested. 
 
And interested in what, exactly?  A skinny bumbling outcast with weird frizzy
hair who blushed at the drop of a hat and was abysmal at math?  Yeah right. 
But… then what wasit?  Tom knew he was pretty naïve; he often didn’t get many
of the dirty jokes the other kids at school would toss around.  He didn’t have
cable or the internet at home, so he had never watched porn.  He didn’t really
“know” what people got up to when they were one on one, more than what he had
overheard or read, while blushing, sequestered at the back of the library, in
trashy romance novels.  He didn’t think Chris was interested in him “like
that,” but Tom wasn’t so naive not to know that it had to mean something for
the man to have touched him there.  Boys didn’t just touch each other like
that. 
 
Glancing up through fluttering eyelashes, Tom felt his cheeks burst with color
at the way Chris was looking at him.  A small smile was playing at the corner
of his full lips; his eyes seemed darker than usual.  Chris was looking at Tom
as if he was amused.  Not mocking him, but purely pleased.  As if something
about Tom made him happy. 
 
“What’s the matter, Tom?” Chris asked, stroking his thumb against the skin of
his thigh again.  And Tom jumped.  Again.
 
Shifting slightly away, so that Chris’ hand wasn’t as dangerously close to
touching him there as it had been, Tom cleared his throat.
 
“Mr. Hem-” he began but broke off when he saw Chris raise an expectant eyebrow.
 
“Um… Ch-Chris,” Tom said, instead, feeling his face heat up again.  “I… I’m
sorry but I just don’t understand what you’re doing.”
 
“What I’m doing?” Chris asked, and Tom couldn’t deny that he liked the way the
man’s accent rounded out his words.  “I’m touching you, Tom.”
 
Tom licked his lips and glanced away, failing to notice the way Chris’ eyes
followed the path of his tongue.
 
“Um… yeah… But why?” Tom asked quietly.
 
“Why do you think?” Chris asked back, mirth apparent in his voice.  “It’s
‘cause I like you, Tom.”

Tom’s head shot up, eyes wide and disbelieving.
 
“What?!” Tom exclaimed, and this time his voice most definitely did squeak.
 
Chris squeezed his thigh and grinned at him.
 
“I like you, silly boy,” he said as he leaned in, body towering over Tom’s. 
 
Tom had no choice but to lean back, the action causing him to find himself
laying half-prostrate on the couch with Chris over him. Chris reached out to
pry the forgotten bowl of ice cream out of Tom’s hands and Tom watched on,
speechless, as Chris reached over his head to place the bowl on the end table
behind him. 
 
“But… you can’t…” Tom said, voice reflecting his disbelief.  “I’m a boy.”
 
Chris laughed as he settled back into his position, not seeming to mind that he
had Tom pressed up against one side of the couch, bodies not touching, but
clearly leaving Tom very little space to escape. 
 
“I do think I noticed that, Tom,” Chris said plainly.
 
“But… isn’t it wrong?” Tom asked, biting his lip, sounding scared.
 
Chris paused and frowned slightly.  He hadn’t expected Tom to have that kind of
reaction.  With the way the boy’s eyes always followed him, Chris didn’t think
Tom would be opposed to the idea because of their genders.  Or maybe Tom didn’t
realize the way he had been looking at Chris. 
 
“Well, tell me what you think is wrong about it,” Chris asked, carefully.
 
Tom’s brows furrowed in consternation.
 
“Um… well, like I said, I’m a boy,” Tom repeated, as if that was explanation
enough.
 
“So?” Chris asked as he moved over him again, his other hand reaching up to
stroke at Tom’s fluffy blond curls.  “I like that about you.  You’re a very
cute boy.”
 
Tom blushed all the way up to his roots.  And even though he was thoroughly
embarrassed, he couldn’t pull his eyes away from Chris’. He didn’t know how to
feel, but he knew that suddenly his chest felt very tight and he found himself
strangely fighting the urge to grin like an idiot.  But, Tom realized that
maybe he wasn’t doing all that good of a job at hiding how pleased the words
had made him, because Chris’ lips quirked up into a smile.
 
“And I think you like the way I look too,” Chris whispered as he let his thumb
run along the shell of Tom’s ear.  “Don’t think I don’t catch you looking at me
in class.”
 
And that made Tom blush again.  But this time he was somewhat mortified.  Yes,
he watched Chris in class.  Quite often.  But he had never thought the older
man actually noticed.  Tom had found Chris fascinating because he was
everything Tom wasn’t.  Strong, funny, charming, handsome.   But that didn’t
mean he liked him like that… did it? 
 
Tom always thought his eyes lingered on Chris because he admired him; aspired
to be more like him.  But, sometimes he did find himself entranced by the way
Chris’ muscles flexed under his shirts.  Or he would find himself staring at
Chris’ strong jean-clad legs and wondering what it would feel like to touch the
thickness of his thighs.  But that was just because Chris was so much different
from any man Tom had ever seen.  There was nothing sordid about it, Tom told
himself. 
 
“So, we both are quite pleased with each other, don’t you think?” Chris asked,
breaking into Tom’s thoughts.  He was giving Tom a mischievous grin and it made
a pleasant shiver run down Tom’s spine.  “I don’t see anything ‘wrong’ there.”
 
Tom blinked, remembering that that was what they were talking about.  Not, in
fact, about how nice Chris’ muscles looked when they rippled under his button-
down shirts. 
 
“Um… but you’re… you’re my teacher… Won’t we get in trouble?” Tom asked
quietly.
 
Chris hummed softly as he made a show of pretending like he was thinking over
the question.  In actuality, Chris already had an answer to Tom’s concern.  But
he didn’t want Tom to think he took it lightly. 
 
“Well… possibly.  But, we won’t get in trouble if no one knows. You know that,
right?  If we keep it our little secret, then everything will be fine,” Chris
explained.
 
Tom’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
 
“But… isn’t this kind of thing… Well, people don’t do it, right?” Tom tried
again. 
 
Chris had to hold back his smile.  It was clear that Tom’s arguments were
losing their steam.  Tom couldn’t really think up good reasons for why they
shouldn’t do it.  Sure, there were all the “proper” reasons: Chris was more
than 10 years older than Tom and he was his teacher.  But the one reason—the
one that mattered—that Tom had yet to bring up was that he didn’t want to do
it.  And Chris was going to make sure that Tom understood that. 
 
“The only reason notto do it is if you didn’t want to, Tom.  This would only be
wrong if I did something to you that you didn’t like.  As long as we both are
feeling good and like what is happening, there’s nothing to feel bad about. 
Don’t you agree?” Chris asked with a shrug, his eyes twinkling.   
 
Tom bit his lip, brows furrowed with worry.  Chris’ argument sounded like a
good one, but Tom was still unsure.  He couldn’t make up his mind.  But then he
felt Chris’ hand on his thigh moving again.  Squeezing again.   And Tom let out
a soft gasp, unbidden.  It felt good.  Tom couldn’t deny that.  Being touched
felt good.
                                      ***
Chris watched with rising desire as the emotions flitted across Tom’s face.  He
knew Tom was hesitant and confused.  But he could also tell that Tom was touch-
starved.  That he cravedthe attention Chris was bestowing on him, whether he
knew it or not.  And he was responsive.  Every time Chris touched him it was
like a jolt of electricity raced through the boy’s body.  And even now, that
small gasp Tom had released when Chris had squeezed his thigh was followed by
reddened cheeks and lowered lids.   All Chris could think about was how lovely
Tom would be to watch as he came.  Chris wanted to see the boy come apart. 
  
“I’m going to kiss you now,” Chris said with finality, voice huskier than it
had been a few moments ago.

Tom’s eyes widened, and his body stiffened.  But he didn’t protest or move away
as Chris leaned over him. Instead his eyes slowly fluttered closed and he
tilted his chin upward, as if on instinct, and Chris let out a hum of approval
as he felt Tom’s hands tentatively reach up to grab the front of his shirt.   
 
Confident that he would be met with no more resistance, Chris cupped the back
of Tom’s head, pulling the boy closer and closing the distance between them. 
Tom could only take one little, gaspy breath, before Chris pressed his lips to
his. Chris moaned, and Tom whined, the touch sending electricity through them
both.
 
Tom’s fingers tightened their grip on Chris’ shirt, Tom’s subconscious way of
getting closer, and Chris smiled against his lips. Liking the boy’s honest
reactions, Chris let his tongue slip out to swipe teasingly against Tom’s
bottom lip.  Tom gasped again, blowing hot little puffs of air against Chris’
mouth.  And Chris couldn’t help himself; he dove in. 
 
Holding Tom’s head steady, Chris licked inside the boy’s mouth.  Tom’s mouth
was hot and sweet, tasting of the ice cream he had so recently been eating. 
Chris felt a thrill of desire shoot straight to his groin and couldn’t stop the
groan that escaped his lips.  And it seemed like Tom liked what he was doing,
trembling under Chris’ hands and letting out soft sighs of contentment. 
 
It was obvious to Chris that Tom didn’t have very much experience with
kissing.  The boy’s kisses were uncertain and a bit artless, tongue darting out
hesitantly to meet the much more sure thrust of Chris’ tongue.  But Chris liked
that he kissed back, no matter how sloppily.  It showed Chris that Tom wanted
this too.  A thought that turned Chris on to no end. 
 
Smirking against Tom’s lips, Chris shifted so that his body weight pressed more
firmly down on Tom’s.  Letting out a small ‘mmph,’ Tom allowed himself to be
laid back, legs spreading unconsciously to accommodate Chris’ hips between
them.  Tom’s arms moved of their own accord from their position gripping the
front of Chris’ shirt to instead circle around his back, holding on to him
tightly.  Their bodies were now flush, and the first thing Chris thought to do
was grind down on the boy.
 
Tom almost squealed against his mouth, bucking up unconsciously to meet the
downward thrust of Chris’ hips.  Chris grunted in approval, grinding down just
a bit harder, pleased to find that he could already feel the telltale signs of
a growing erection through the boy’s jeans.  But apparently Tom didn’t like
Chris knowing that he was starting to get stiff and he pulled away from Chris’
mouth sliding a hand between them and up against Chris’ chest.
 
“Um… ah… I-I think… I think maybe we shouldn’t do that-” Tom started, breathing
heavy as he subtly tried to shift his hips away. 
 
“Do what?” Chris asked, giving him a lazy grin, before purposefully grinding
down again, hard and slow.
 
Tom threw his head back, an undignified whine escaping his lips.  And instead
of pushing against Chris’ chest again, his hand fisted in the fabric of his
shirt.
 
“I’m going to get—” Tom broke off, face flushing hotly at the implications of
his words.  
 
And Chris could only smile as he stared down at him.  Eyes wide and lips wet
and swollen.  The boy was beautiful.  He already looked well on his way to
becoming debauched and they had only kissed.
 
“What do you think I’m trying to do here?” Chris asked with a smirk.  “I want
you to get hot for me.  I love seeing you like this.”
 
He nosed along Tom’s neck, kissing a slow trail up from the boy’s collarbone,
to his chin and jaw, and finally stopping on the soft skin behind his left
ear.  Tom’s sighs of pleasure and insistent tugging on Chris’ shirt were enough
to tell him that the boy’s argument had, yet again, left him. Tom was a sucker
for touch.  And Chris wanted to see what other sounds and reactions he could
pull from him.
 
Mouth still working at the sweet-smelling skin behind his ear, Chris allowed
his left hand to slowly trail down Tom’s side.  The boy shuddered, breaths
puffing against Chris’ cheek, but instead of spooking him, the touch seemed to
embolden him.  Chris felt the insistent press of the boy’s hard-on as he began
to lift his hips in subtle little motions, seeking out more friction. More
pleasure.  And that was something Chris was very much willing to give him. 
 
Hand trailing along a purposeful path, Chris let his palm skirt across the
boy’s narrow, bony hip before landing on the front of his pants.  Tom gasped
and his body tensed up, the feeling clearly foreign to him.
 
“Shh, shh.  Relax.  I’m only going to make you feel good,” Chris whispered as
he softly squeezed him.
 
And there was that moan again.  That soft, breathy whine.  Tom’s body slowly
lost all its tension as Chris began to gently knead his cock through his
jeans.  Tom’s hips switched into action again, rolling up to meet Chris’
touch.  And soon Chris could feel the boy’s cock thickening and lengthening
under his ministrations. 
 
“Ch-Chris,” Tom moaned, eyes squeezed shut and cheeks and neck painted in a
soft pink blush.  
 
Hearing his name spoken in such an alluring voice caused Chris’ cock to throb
almost painfully.   He liked hearing Tom so needy.  He wanted to make the boy
come undone. 
 
Chris quickly brought both of his hands up to the button of Tom’s jeans, and
within seconds the zipper was down and his hand was slipping down the front of
Tom’s briefs, touching him skin on skin.  Tom let out a high-pitched keening
moan and Chris continued to lick and suck at the boy’s mouth, swallowing down
his moans. Tom was hot and slick in his palm.  Chris rubbed his thumb teasingly
over the head of the boy’s cock and Tom shuddered.  Chris could feel the boy’s
nails digging in to his shoulders.  
 
Pulling away from Tom’s needy kisses, Chris nipped playfully at Tom’s bottom
lip.  Staring into Tom’s hazy eyes, he pumped his cock with long, slow strokes.
 
“You like that, Tom?” Chris asked, his voice sounding husky and breathless to
his own ears.
 
Tom blushed, biting down on his lip, as he turned his face away from Chris,
seemingly in an attempt to hide.  But there was no denying the boy was enjoying
it; the stiffness of his cock was testament to that.
 
“Don’t be shy,” Chris purred, as he increased the pace of his strokes.  “I want
you to like it.”
 
Tom groaned in response, words having left him, but he spread his legs, knees
coming up to lock around Chris, and raised his hips enthusiastically to meet
Chris’ generous hand.  Tom just couldn’t help himself.  The sensations that
Chris was causing within him were so foreign, yet so delicious. 
                                     *** 
If his head had been clearer, Tom probably would have felt more embarrassed. 
He probably wouldn’t have been so honest in his reactions.  But the things
Chris was doing to him were making his brain turn to mush.  His toes were
curling, his skin felt electrified, and his breath was coming out quick and
choppy.  He never wanted these feelings to end.
 
All Tom wanted was for Chris to touch him more.  He couldn’t think straight. 
He couldn’t think about whether or not what they were doing was wrong.  Or
whether Chris wanted anything more from him than just this physical thing that
was happening between them right now.  Tom just wanted to come.  He knew he
should probably be ashamed to admit it, but Tom had lost himself to the lure of
pure sensation.  Clutching and pawing at Chris’ back as he continued to thrust
up into the older man’s rough, warm hand, Tom sought his release with a selfish
desperation.
 
“Come on, baby.  You look so perfect like this.  Want you to come for me,”
Chris whispered in his ear, tongue coming out to lick teasingly along it.
 
And just like that, Tom felt it hit him.  Like a crashing wave.  More intense
than he had ever felt it before.  He came, body tensing and hips bucking.  He
came so hard he felt like he could see lights flashing behind his eyelids and
hear his blood rushing in his ears.  
 
When Tom finally came back to Earth, he slowly became aware of Chris’ hot
breath against his ear as the older man panted whispers of “yes” and “so good”
and “good boy,” as he languidly pumped the last few drops of come out of him. 
Whimpering as he nodded in time with Chris’ praise, Tom couldn’t deny that he
felt good.  Lazy, and loose-limbed, and completely drained, but with a pleasant
buzz thrumming through his body. 
 
As he opened his heavy eyes to look up at Chris, Tom was vaguely aware of
something thick and hard pressing up against his inner thigh.  But then Chris
was pulling back, and away, and settling himself down against the arm rest on
the other side of the small couch.  Legs still akimbo, with one of them between
the back of the couch and Tom’s thigh and the other resting on the ground,
Chris let out a groan as he pushed his hand down into the waistband of his own
pants.
 
From his position still slumped against the couch, Tom watched on with wide
eyes as Chris palmed at himself beneath the fabric of his pants, before he
pulled his cock out.  Tom felt his breath stutter in his chest.  Chris’ cock
was big, thick and long, with a flushed red head that was already glistening
with pre-come.  Tom had never seen another man’s cock before, and he found
himself entranced by it. He licked his suddenly dry lips as he watched Chris
pump his cock with long, slow strokes.   Chris’ cock looked so hard, like he
would come at any second.  And Tom entertained the thrilling thought that maybe
Chris was this way because of him.       
 
When Chris let out another groan, Tom’s eyes flicked up to his and Tom felt his
stomach do a little flip.  Chris was staring at him with heated, half-lidded
eyes, like Tom was something he wanted to devour.  And Tom let out a soft
whimper, feeling his own body start to heat up again with the beginning tingles
of arousal. 
                                     *** 
The sound made Chris stroke his own cock harder, squeezing out a fat drop of
pre-come that dribbled down his fingers and which he used to rub along his
length, slicking himself up.  Chris knew he wouldn’t last long, especially not
with Tom looking at him like he was some kind of tasty treat.  The boy was so
innocent that he didn’t know when he was being seductive.  But Tom’s wide eyes,
flushed cheeks and parted lips made Chris think nothing but dirty thoughts. 
All Chris wanted was to see the image of Tom’s lips wrapped around his cock. 
It was an image so arousing that Chris felt his cock pulse in his hand.  He
groaned again, twisting his fist around the head of his cock, and watched as
the boy’s eyes dropped down again, taking in the sight of him.
 
“Do you want to…?,” Chris began, tongue feeling thick as he tried to push down
his own insistent need.  “Tom, can you… Just- Just come here.”
 
Tom looked up at him confusedly.  But then Chris just motioned to him with his
free hand, beckoning him to come closer.  And Tom shyly pushed himself up to
his hands and knees and crawled across the small distance until he was hovering
over Chris.  
 
Chris reached up and traced Tom’s bottom lip with his thumb.  Pulling down
slightly, he exposed Tom’s bottom teeth.  Tom’s teeth parted and his tongue
darted out to wet his lip, his tongue brushing lightly against Chris’ thumb. 
Chris felt a shiver run up his spine.  He stared into Tom’s eyes, and Tom
boldly stared back at him.  The boy’s pupils were so wide, and he was already
breathing heavily.
 
“Tom… I want you to… Do you think you could just… kiss my cock a little?” Chris
asked, holding the boy’s eyes with his own.
 
Tom flushed, lashes fluttering as he closed his eyes.  Chris thumb was still
pressing against Tom’s lip, and Tom licked his lips again, the warm wet feeling
sending a pulse of desire straight to Chris’ cock.
 
“J-just kiss it?” Tom asked softly, opening those big blue eyes.
 
“Yeah,” Chris said gruffly, before clearing his throat.  “Yes. Yes, just kiss
it. I’m so close and I want to see your pretty little lips pressed against my
cock as I come.”
 
Shuddering, Tom quickly nodded his head, as if not needing much time to
consider it.  He shifted so that he was resting his elbows on Chris’ thighs,
face hovering over Chris’ erect cock blowing hot little breaths against the
heated skin.  Groaning in appreciation at the sight in front of him, Chris took
his free hand and cupped it behind Tom’s head, fingers playing with the soft
curls at the nape of his neck.  With his other hand he guided his cock to Tom’s
lips.
 
When the boy’s soft lips met the head of his cock, Chris’ hips jerked of their
own accord.  Tom smiled softly as he ran his palms along Chris’ thighs and he
proceeded to leave little pecks across the glistening tip.  
 
“Look up at me,” Chris breathed, eyes trained on the slick traces of his pre-
come already streaking the boy’s lips. 
 
Tom tilted his head so that his blue eyes met with Chris’.  He blushed, but
didn’t break eye contact as he began to kiss down the length and back up
again.  When he reached the tip again, Tom opened his mouth and tentatively
flicked his tongue against the slick head.  Chris gasped, tightening the grip
on Tom’s hair and forcing himself not to push into Tom’s mouth.  Tom smiled
shyly as he drew his tongue back into his mouth to taste the flavor and then,
seemingly liking it, he stuck his tongue back out again, drawing a long slow
stripe up the length of Chris’ cock. Tom kissed at the head again, before his
pink tongue darted out and swirled around it.
 
Chris was at his limit.  Tom was so perfect.  More than he had ever hoped.  And
the boy’s clumsy yet scintillating attempts had Chris balancing dangerously on
the edge of his climax.   
 
“Close your eyes,” Chris warned in a choked out voice, before he started
furiously stroking at his cock.
 
Obeying, Tom quickly squeezed his eyes shut.  But he left his lips slightly
parted, his small, pink tongue still visible, as Chris grunted above him.  And
with one last loud grunt, Chris came, painting the boy’s cheek, brow, and lips
in stripes of thick, white come.  Tom flinched, shocked by the feeling of it. 
But Chris watched on as the boy’s tongue peeked out of his lips, coming up to
lick at the traces of come dripping from them. 
 
“Shit,” Chris groaned out, as he squeezed the last few drops of come from his
cock while watching Tom’s wanton display.  He then regained his senses and
quickly moved to wipe at the remaining come on Tom’s face with his t-shirt,
making sure none of it could get in his eyes.  Satisfied, he leaned down and
placed a chaste kiss on Tom’s lips.  Letting out a small sound of surprise, Tom
opened his eyes and looked at Chris.  Chris was smiling at him and Tom smiled
shyly back. 
 
“Was that good?” he asked softly.
 
Chris smiled wryly. 
 
“Better than you could even imagine,” he said as he pulled Tom into his side
and nuzzled the boy’s soft hair. 
                                     *** 
The following Monday, Chris couldn’t deny that he was somewhat anxious as he
waited in the deserted classroom for students to start trickling in and the
day's class to start.  He wasn’t usually late to his class, but he always
tended to arrive just as most of the students were taking their seats.  He had
rarely ever been there when the classroom was empty.  But he had come in early
because he had gotten little, if any, sleep over the weekend.  He had spent the
majority of the time ruminating about what had transpired between him and Tom
on Friday night.
 
They had sat together on the couch, leaning on each other’s shoulders,
regaining their breaths with lazy, sated little grins on their faces and Chris
had made sure to look Tom in the eye and ask him if he was okay with what they
had just done.  Tom had said he was fine.  That he had enjoyed everything they
did.  He had blushed and smiled as he said it, and Chris felt his heart squeeze
inside his chest.  Afterwards, Chris had driven Tom home.  He had watched the
boy walk up to his doorstep and wave to him.  He had waited until Tom was
safely inside the house and he had seen the lights turn on inside before he
pulled away from the curb.  And Chris had gone to bed that night with a grin on
his face as he replayed the night’s events over and over in his head. 
 
But the cold reality of morning had changed Chris’ impression of the night
before, and he had spent Saturday and Sunday on edge, expecting cops to show up
at his door.  Or at least Tom’s mother, coming over and accusing him of being
some sick bastard.  Of corrupting her child.  Of stealing Tom’s innocence.  And
they would have been right. 
 
But no one had come, and Chris had convinced himself that Tom hadn’t told.  And
while that was a relief, Chris also couldn’t deny that he was worried Tom would
be awkward at school today.  That, in the worst case scenario, Tom would regret
what they had done.  That he would feel like he could no longer trust Chris,
and would avoid his eyes throughout class.  Avoid any reason to talk to him. 
And surprisingly enough that felt almost as bad as the thought of being carted
away to prison. 
 
Chris waited anxiously by the front of the room, running his hands through his
normally neat blond locks as he waited for Tom to enter.  When he finally saw
the familiar puff of curly blond hair over the top of another student’s head,
he felt a mixture of relief and worry.  When the student in front of him took
his seat and Tom was able to catch Chris’ eye, the boy came to a complete halt
in the middle of the aisle, face flushing.  Chris couldn’t read Tom’s reaction,
but he tried to school his own face, hoping not to influence Tom.  He didn’t
want Tom to feel that he had any expectations of him, whether it was an
expectation that Tom should continue to interact with him or an expectation
that Tom should pretend like it had never happened at all. 
 
When he asked himself about it, Chris was honestly content to let Tom decide
where—if anywhere—things went between them.  Chris knew that the worst case
scenario was that Tom would regret everything that had happened between them. 
And Chris didn’t want that to be the case.  All Chris wanted was to know that
Tom was okay; that he didn’t feel guilty or dirty or confused following what
they had done.  If Tom wanted to write this off as a one-off experience that he
had enjoyed but had no need to revisit, Chris would just accept that.  And if
Tom wanted more… well, Chris would be happy to indulge him.  But he would let
the boy decide.  He wasn’t going to put any undue pressure on him to do
anything just for the sole purpose of pleasing Chris.  
 
Tom was pushed out of his stupor by a rough shove from behind, and Chris
frowned as he looked over Tom’s shoulder to see Siobhan standing behind him.
 
Siobhan.  That girl was nasty.  Chris didn’t find himself often disliking kids
but she was on his short list.  She was at times overly aggressive in the
interest she showed Chris, to the point where it bordered on inappropriate.  At
other times, she was vicious to her peers in underhanded ways.  She was an
example of relational aggression at its worst.  Usually he just ignored
her—part of growing up was learning how to sort out your own problems—but he
didn’t like it when she was mean to Tom.
 
“Out of the way, spaz,” she sneered.  “You’re blocking the way.” 
 
Tom flushed, and ducked his head as he continued up the aisle between the
desks.  When he reached the front of the room he looked at Chris shyly, from
under his lashes, smiling hesitantly.  Feeling a warm rush of fondness for the
boy, Chris grinned back, winking cheekily.  Tom flushed again, but this time
Chris was sure it was a different kind of embarrassment. Tom looked almost
giddy, like he was holding some precious secret, as he made his way to his seat
and sat down.
 
Chris loved that the boy sat so close to the front of the room.  Tom was always
in his peripheral vision, and Chris enjoyed being able to keep a watch over
him.  Feeling at ease, Chris quickly started the class, deciding to pass back
last week’s quizzes first thing, instead of waiting until the end of the
lesson. He wanted an excuse to talk to Tom. 
 
Chris took his time walking up and down the aisles, starting at the desks
closest to the wall and making his way over to the desks lined up against the
window, making small talk with the students and asking them about their
weekends as he made his way along.  When he finally made it to Tom’s desk, he
placed down the quiz—a solid 81—and lingered a little, palm splayed on top of
the paper. 
 
“How’re you today, Tom?” he asked casually.
 
Tom looked up at him, blue eyes big and twinkling, and smiled at him like he
was the sun.
 
“I’m very well.  Thanks for asking Ch- Ah! Mr. Hemsworth,” Tom rushed to
correct himself as he looked away, cheeks blossoming in a bright blush.
 
Chris wasn’t sure anyone had noticed the slip up, but he had to contain his
chuckle as he patted Tom on the shoulder.
 
“Good to hear, Tom,” he said, squeezing slightly, before he slipped his hand
off. 
 
As Chris continued walking down the aisle, handing back the other students’
quizzes he found himself at ease.  Tom didn’t seem upset with him.  He didn’t
seem to like him any less than he had early on Friday afternoon.  Before he had
gotten into Chris’ car.  Before they had stepped over so many forbidden lines. 
 
Against all odds, things seemed to be working out quite alright. 
                                     *** 
It was exactly two weeks later when, while Chris was prepping during his break,
he heard a soft knock on the open classroom door and looked up to see Tom
standing there.  He looked nervous and a little uncomfortable, but he made eye
contact nonetheless.  Chris felt a pang of anxiousness—or maybe it was guilt,
or fear—as he saw Tom standing there.  He hadn’t been alonewith Tom since their
one night together, and just seeing him there sent a wave of desire rolling
through his gut.  But he pushed it down and gave the boy an encouraging smile. 

“Um… d-do you have a minute?” Tom asked, still standing in the open doorway.
 
“Sure,” Chris said as he motioned for him to enter.
 
He didn’t miss the fact that Tom pulled the door closed behind him before
making his way further in to the room.  Sitting up, Chris swallowed, throat
suddenly feeling dry, as he wondered what Tom could possibly want to talk
about, in private. 
 
“I just… I wanted to let you know that my mum is doing another double tonight
and… if you aren’t doing anything, that is, I was wondering if maybe… you know,
if maybe…? Well, I had a really good time last time, so…” Tom stuttered out.
 
Chris blinked slowly, having trouble processing what the boy was saying.  But
it seemed as if the silence was the last thing Tom wanted to hear, and he saw
the boy’s face redden as his shoulders hunched up defensively.
 
“Just forget it!  I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” Tom started, already turning on
his heel.
 
“Wait!” Chris said, cutting him off. “Are you saying you’d like to come over
again?”
 
Tom stopped, eyes wide and looking like a skittish deer. 
 
“Well… yes.  I mean, if that’s alright with you?” Tom asked, eyes dropping to
the floor.
 
Chris grinned. 
 
“Of course it’s fine with me.  You can… Well, you know you’re always welcome,
Tom,” Chris said.
 
Tom blushed, rubbing his arm self-consciously.
 
“I… Like I said.  I liked… I liked what we did,” he said quietly.
 
Chris felt a shiver go up his spine.  His cock was already stirring at the
thought of it. 
 
“It’s alright to come over even if we don’t do that,” Chris said carefully.  He
almost wanted to kick himself for bringing it up, but he didn’t want Tom to
think that was all he wanted from him. 
 
Tom nodded as he bit his lip.
 
“I know.  But… I’d like it if we did that too,” he whispered. 
 
Chris didn’t think he still had it in him to get hard so fast, but Tom’s words
made his blood feel like liquid fire.
 
“Meet me in the parking lot,” he said, voice already thick with want. 
                                      ***
Weeks passed like that.  Every time Tom’s mother was pulling a double, he’d
come over to Chris’ house.  And because they knew they had to be careful, they
hadn’t discussed their relationship in school again past that first day Tom had
asked to visit again.  Chris only ever knew if Tom was coming over when he
would go to the parking lot and find Tom loitering near his car.  They were
lucky that the parking lot was usually deserted by then, and Tom would climb
in, smiling at him prettily. 
 
Chris felt like a teenager all over again.  They spent a lot of their time
making out.  Tom really, really liked kissing.  And touching.  As soon as he
had been given the opportunity, Tom had taken advantage of his ability to touch
Chris freely, running his hands up and down Chris’ body, marveling at the thick
blond hair covering his arms, chest and legs.  He had gotten much more
comfortable at using his mouth on Chris too, and Chris had been more than happy
to return the favor.  And while he had seen Tom naked—even had showered with
him after getting particularly messy—they never went further than the touching
and kissing. 
 
Chris was more than content to let Tom use his body to explore his desires. 
And Tom especially liked having Chris’ hands on him, he had learned.  Whenever
Chris got distracted, the boy would grab his hands and position them where he
wanted them: on his hips, on his shoulders, on the back of his head.   And
Chris liked it too.  Tom felt so small in his large hands, the boy’s body soft
and delicate yet wiry with muscle all at the same time.  
 
But it wasn’t always just sex with them.  Sometimes they simply “hung out.” 
Tom would tell him about his week.  What new scene he was practicing for in the
upcoming school play.  Or what book he had read recently.  With Tom tucked up
against his side, Chris would run his hands through Tom’s soft curls as he
listened to the boy chatter on happily. 
 
They would sometimes watch TV, Tom laughing happily as he aced the trivia shows
and Chris would look at him, shocked by how much the kid knew.  But Chris’
favorite part of the time they spent together was dinner.  They always had
dinner when Tom came over.  Chris told him he was just trying to be a good
host, but, in all honesty, Chris just really liked to cook for Tom.  Seeing how
the boy beamed every time he tried something new that Chris had cooked was
often the highlight of Chris’ day.  And Chris found it so sweet that Tom liked
to help out as often as he could, but Chris had soon learned that Tom’s cooking
skills were actually quite deplorable. So he had delegated the boy to simple
tasks like chopping vegetables or stirring pots.  But even with those little
duties Tom always beamed at him, as if so excited to be included. 
 
It started to feel like Tom belongedat his house, and Chris began to forget in
those moments that Tom was his student.  That he did not, in fact, belongthere
and that there were many things wrong with what they were doing.  This feeling
always reasserted itself at the end of the night, when Chris and Tom would pile
into the car and Chris would drive Tom home.  Taking him home at the end of the
night was one of the things Chris was adamant about.  Even though he knew Tom’s
mother wasn’t set to be home until the next morning, and even though Tom had
hinted, more often than not, that he would like to stay over, Chris always felt
guilty about letting Tom stay over.  As if sending him back home somehow washed
away the questionable nature of what they had gotten up to earlier in the
night.   
 
But then, sitting in the dark, parked a few houses down from Tom’s house, Tom
would always lean over and kiss Chris sweetly before he left.  The kisses
sometimes turned needy and desperate, Tom moaning against his lips, and Chris
always found it so difficult to let him go.  But Chris had a greater hold on
his body’s desires than Tom did, and his mind was always clear enough to
remember where they were, who they were, and why it wouldn’t be good for them
to get caught doing what they were doing. 
 
So Chris would pull away, stroking Tom’s hair, or running his thumb across his
lip, before whispering “goodnight” to him.  Tom always looked somewhat
reluctant before he left the car, as if he was afraid that that time would be
the last time.  And while Chris never let himself entertain the thought of
that, he knew where Tom’s concerns were coming from.  They both knew that what
they had was very limited—relegated to the few short hours they could steal
after school a few times a week—and that, come Monday, Chris wouldn’t be able
to look at Tom the way he did in those few moments before they parted ways.
                                     ***  
It was a Friday, one week before Christmas break, when things changed. 
 
Chris had come across Tom in the parking lot waiting by his car.  The boy was
bundled up in a puffy dark blue jacket, a silly knit hat on his head.  Chris
couldn’t see much of his face behind his scarf, but he could immediately tell
that Tom was acting particularly nervous for some reason.  Chris had smiled at
him and Tom had smiled shyly back.  He hadn’t noticed anything strange about
Tom, other than that his backpack looked fuller than usual, and when they were
settled in the car he had asked the boy if anything was wrong.  Tom had blushed
but had quickly said no, and, while Chris wasn’t fully convinced, he at least
felt confident that it was something more along the personal side than that Tom
was upset about something.  So he had let it go.
 
When they got back to Chris’ house, all thoughts were quickly pushed out of his
mind when Tom had all but jumped him once they made it through the front door. 
Hard kisses and playful nips, turned in to heavy moans and groping hands. 
Soon, coats and sweaters and shoes were scattered along the floor and Chris and
Tom found themselves on the living room couch. 
 
Chris palmed at Tom through the front of the boy’s jeans, already feeling how
hard Tom was.  And without waiting for Tom to beg him—which he sometimes liked
to do—he unzipped Tom’s pants, pushing his hand down into the front of the
boy’s briefs, and pulled his cock out.  Tom looked down at him, chest heaving
and flushed, eyes already half-lidded, and Chris grinned up at him before
taking him in his mouth.  Tom gasped and bucked his hips, still so sensitive
and awed by the sensations washing over him.  Chris made quick work of him,
sucking and pumping his cock, tonguing at his slit and lapping up his pre-
come.  Tom’s hands scrabbled for purchase, grabbing at Chris’ hair and
pulling.  Chris moaned, always liking it when Tom was possessive
 
He let Tom use his mouth, as the boy rocked his hips upwards, keening and
panting.  Chris splayed his hands across Tom’s narrow hips, liking how easily
they fit in his hands.  Tom gripped at his hair, turning Chris’ head this way
and that, little “yeses” slipping from his lips.  Moaning, Chris slipped his
hands underneath Tom, palming at the boy’s round bottom and lifting him up. 
Tom liked being manhandled and it didn’t take long before the boy’s cock was
near bursting.  Chris could feel it hardening and thickening within his mouth. 
Hollowing out his cheeks, Chris sucked Tom hard, causing the boy’s toes to curl
and his eyelids to flutter.  
 
“Mmm!  Chris!!” Tom shouted, holding Chris’ head in a vice grip as he came.
 
Chris moaned loudly as he felt the warm salty come fill his mouth.  Tom’s body
jerked a few more times as he emptied himself, and Chris swallowed down all the
boy gave him.  He licked Tom clean until Tom let out a little whine. 
 
Smiling, Chris wiped his mouth off before rising to his feet and flopping down
next to Tom, who was splayed there on the couch, body almost boneless, as he
tried to catch his breath. Chris grinned at him, leaning over to nuzzle and
kiss at his neck.  He stroked the skin behind Tom’s ear with his other hand,
knowing how much Tom liked that.  Soon he could hear and feel that the boy’s
breathing had returned to normal, that his pulse had stopped fluttering
erratically, and he pulled back to look at Tom’s face.  He was flushed but
sated and dreamy looking.  Chris loved that expression on him.
 
But then it was like something worrisome passed through Tom’s mind, causing his
brows to furrow and his lips to purse, a look Chris had quickly learned was his
“I’m thinking too hard” face.  But Chris decided to wait it out, as he
continued to stroke gently at the back of Tom’s neck.  Somehow, he felt like
this perturbed expression was in some way related to what had been bothering
Tom earlier in the parking lot.  And he figured if something was bothering Tom
he was just going to have to come out and say it.  So he waited.  
 
Tom bit at his lip as he looked at Chris and then away again.  Seemingly
debating whether or not he was going to voice whatever it was that was
bothering him.  But he finally brought his eyes back to Chris and took an
audible breath.
 
“You…you always stop before…” Tom trailed off, cheeks darkening. 
 
He looked away from Chris and down at his hands, that were tightly gripping the
fabric of his jeans.
 
Chris was confused.  Tom hadn’t actually said much, and he knew it was one of
those moments where Tom was expecting him to read his mind.  Chris had never
been quite good at that.
 
“Tom?” Chris prodded.
 
And then Tom let out a huff of frustration.  
 
“Don’t you want to-?  I mean… there’s more to this, right?  Why don’t you want
to do it with me?” Tom asked, frowning down at his hands.
 
And Chris blinked.  Besides the fact that Chris really hadn’t been expecting to
hear that, it sounded like Tom’s feelings were hurt.  As if he was upset with
Chris for not pushing for things to go further.  And all Chris could think was
that this kid didn’t even know what he was really asking.
 
“What are you talking about, Tom?” Chris asked, carefully.
 
He wasn’t going to be the one to broach the subject.  If Tom wanted to talk
about it, he would have to at least be able to sayit. 
 
“You know…” Tom said, voice getting soft, almost at a whisper. “Sex.”
 
Chris sighed as he leaned his head back against the couch and closed his eyes.
 
“That’s a big step, Tom.  You sure you want to do that?” Chris asked.
 
But already his cock was pulsing at the idea.  He hadn’t yet come and now all
he could think about was how good it would feel to be inside Tom.
 
“You do it with someone you like.  And I really like you.  So… yeah.  Why
wouldn’t I want to do it?” Tom asked, voice very matter of fact.
 
Chris cracked his eyes open and looked over to Tom.  The boy was looking at him
so earnestly. 
 
“You say that, but… I’m not quite sure you even know what you’re asking for. 
Do you know how it’s done?” Chris asked.
 
Tom blushed again, but he nodded.
 
“Y-yeah… I mean, I know the mechanics…” he mumbled. “I… you know… I looked it
up.”
 
Chris sighed again as he sat back up to look at Tom more seriously.
 
“Yeah?  Do you know it’s probably going to hurt?” Chris asked.   
 
Tom’s eyebrows arched up a bit, but he squared his shoulders and looked Chris
in the eye.  Determined. 
 
“I don’t… I don’t mind it.  I know you’ll make me feel good even if it hurts a
bit,” Tom said.
 
Chris bit his lip and looked away from Tom, wondering to himself how much more
his resolve could really take.  How much more before it would crack?  He had to
get the situation back under control. 
 
“Well… I suppose we can talk about it.  Maybe when you get a little older-”
Chris started.
 
“No!  I want to do it tonight,” Tom said quickly.
 
Chris’ eyebrows rose. 
 
Tom stood to his feet, quickly kicking off his jeans, and Chris watched his
little brief-clad bottom as Tom hurried over to the doorway, where they had
discarded most of their clothes and belongings.  Coming back over with the
over-stuffed bag in hand, Tom opened it to show Chris that it was full of
clothes and toiletries, mixed in with his school books.
 
“My mum is… um… she’s going to be away for the weekend,” Tom said shyly, cheeks
pink.  “She won a trip at work and is going to some spa with one of the work
ladies.  She wasn’t going to go at first, because she was worried about me. But
I told her I’d be staying with a friend…”
 
Before Chris could respond to the shocker of that bombshell, Tom reached into
one of the bag’s front compartments and, blushing even more, pulled out a small
plastic bag, with a familiar pharmacy’s logo printed on it.
 
“And, uh… I knew we’d need these too… so um… I… you know… just to be prepared,”
Tom stuttered out as he opened the bag and revealed a box of condoms and a
bottle of lube.
 
Chris felt his heart racing.  This kid had thought of everything.  And the idea
that shy, innocent Tom Hiddleston—such a good boy—had walked into a pharmacy
with the sole plan of buying supplies for sex, well, that was enough to send
most of the blood from Chris’ brain down to his cock. 
 
"Tom… we don’t have to do this now,” Chris tried again.  Tried to be a good
person.  Tried to be the responsible adult.
 
“You told me you’re going home to visit your family in Australia once break
starts.  I won’t see you again until the end of January.  I won’t be able to
spend Christmas with you or do any of those types of things with you.  I’ll
miss you like crazy.  I want to do it with you.  I need to.  And… and it has to
be now.  Who knows the next time my mum will be away like this…” Tom said
quickly.  Almost desperately. 
 
Chris was silent.  He didn’t know what to say to that.  Yes, he wanted to do
this with Tom. Of course.  But not if the boy felt that he had to do it because
of convenient timing. 
 
“Tom…it’s a big decision.  We should talk about it more.  It’s alright if we
wait until after I get back.  Give you some time to think if you’re actually
ready-” Chris started, but then Tom cut him off.
 
“I’m sure I want to do this with you.  I’ve wanted to for a while… It’s
sometimes all I’ve been able to think about, honestly.  I really like you
Chris.  And I want this.   I don’t want to do this with anyone other than you,”
Tom said, with resolve.
 
And Chris was a good man.  He tried to be, at least.  But how could anyone
expect him to say no to that? 
 
With a grunt, Chris surged forward and hungrily pressed his lips to Tom’s.  Tom
let out a muffled squeak of surprise, before his voice turned into a moan and
he was kissing Chris back.  Then Chris grabbed him, lifting him up off the
couch and Tom quickly wrapped his legs around Chris’ waist to keep a hold of
him.
 
Within seconds, Chris was kicking open the door of his bedroom and depositing
Tom on the sheets in a flushed and giggling heap. He reclaimed Tom’s mouth,
kissing, and sucking, and biting at his lips. And soon Tom was moaning again,
hips jerking up to rub against Chris’ stomach, cock hard again. 
 
Grinning to himself, Chris splayed one hand on Tom’s chest to keep him in place
as he reached over to his nightstand and yanked the drawer open.  Feeling
around blindly, Chris closed his hand around a foil packet and a well-used
bottle.  He deposited them on the bed before leaning back to shuck off his own
pants. 
 
“Oh, you aren’t going to use what I bought?” Tom asked breathlessly as his eyes
moved from the items on the bed to watch Chris undress. 
 
“It was sweet of you and I’m glad you thought of it, baby, but the condoms you
got aren’t going to fit me, if you get what I mean,” Chris said with a
chuckle.  “And the lube you bought… well, it’s probably best to use a better
brand for something like this.”
 
Tom just nodded quietly, seeming a bit more subdued now that the real thing was
looming over him.  
 
“You want to stop at any point, you just let me know, ok?  We don’t have to go
through with it just because we started it,” Chris reminded him.
 
Tom looked up at him with those determined blue eyes and gave him a miffed
look.
 
“I know, Chris. You don’t have to keep telling me that.  I trust you.  I want
this,” Tom repeated.
 
Tom then reached out to grab Chris by the hips.  Chris tried to stay as still
as possible as Tom’s hands ran over his skin and then pushed down into his
briefs.  Tom’s hand quickly found its prize, closing around Chris’ cock and
Chris grunted as he thrust into the warm embrace. 
 
“Say that you want me too,” Tom said, voice soft, as he looked up at Chris with
vulnerable eyes. 
 
“Of course I do.  Of course.  You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you.  Maybe
even from the first day I saw you,” Chris panted.
 
Tom grinned, and stroked him, licking his lips as he did so.  Tom had become
insanely good at knowing just how to get Chris off.  His hands were skilled,
thumb sliding over the wet head of his prick, fist squeezing his length with
just the right amount of pressure. 
 
Chris grabbed his hand, removing it from inside his underwear and Tom whined.
 
“I don’t want you making me come too soon. I want to do that inside of you,”
Chris purred.
 
He watched as Tom’s pupils dilated, loving how expressive and receptive Tom was
for him.  Chris quickly pushed off his underwear, Tom’s following soon after. 
Naked together on the bed they looked their fill.  There was a different energy
in the air. Before, they always knew that their tumbles would end one specific
way.  But today they were going to go further.  Know each other in a supremely
different way.  The air was filled with tension, but it was an atmosphere of
anticipation and nervous excitement. 
 
Feeling such a fondness for the boy lying beneath him, Chris leaned forward and
kissed Tom.  Slow and sweet this time, licking into his mouth until Tom was
sighing and clutching at him.  And when Chris felt that Tom was languid and
ready, he pulled back, grabbing the bottle of lube as he went.   
 
“Lift your hips up and spread your legs for me,” he instructed.
 
Nodding, Tom swallowed and lifted his legs until his feet were planted on the
bed, bent at the knee, and the most intimate parts of him were on display.  He
couldn’t help the flush that rose on his cheeks and neck, showing his clear
embarrassment, but Tom steadfastly held Chris’ eyes.  
 
“Beautiful,” Chris breathed as he kneeled between Tom’s parted thighs. 
 
Chris splayed his hands against the soft skin of Tom’s inner thighs, pushing
his legs apart further. Tom jumped at the touch, a small whimper escaping his
lips, and clutched at the sheets beneath him.  Chris could see how hard the boy
was, cock curving upward, flushed tip dripping pre-come on to his stomach.
Tom’s eyes followed the movement of Chris’ hands as Chris opened the bottle of
lube and slicked his fingers up. 
 
“I’m gonna finger you now, ok?  To get you nice and ready to take my cock.  You
ever play with your hole before?” Chris asked.
 
Tom blushed and shook his head in the negative. 
 
“That’s alright.  We’ll go slow.  I’ll get you used to it,” Chris murmured,
voice already thick with want.
 
Tom nodded as he looked down, arching his neck to see better, watching
carefully as Chris’ hand disappeared between his legs.  When he felt the slick
digit stroke against his hole, Tom let out a sharp whine of surprise, not
expecting the strange sensation.  Chris’ other hand came up immediately to
stroke soothingly at Tom’s knee.  Tom’s eyes fluttered closed and he focused on
the tingling sensations that ran through him as Chris’ fingers continued to
massage the furled skin.  Tom was surprised by how good it felt.  His thighs
parted more as he canted his hips, wanting more of Chris’ touch.  And then he
felt an odd pressure as Chris pushed the tip of his finger in to him. Gasping,
Tom couldn’t help but tense at the intrusion. 
 
“It’s ok.  Relax,” Chris said, slowly easing his finger further inside. 
 
The stretch took time.  Tom was tight and the feelings were foreign to him. 
Every time Tom tensed or let out a small sound of discomfort, Chris stilled or
slowed down.  Tom keened when he took two fingers.  And by the time he was able
to take three, he was arching his back and raising his hips to meet Chris’
pace. 
 
Deciding the boy was ready, and finding it hard to ignore the insistent
presence of his own erection, Chris slowly pulled his fingers free of Tom’s
hole, reveling at how his walls clung to his fingers as if they didn’t want to
let him go.  Chris leaned down to capture Tom’s lips with his own.  Tom kissed
him back fiercely, bringing his arms up to wrap around Chris’ broad back and
arching up to rub his cock against the hard planes of Chris’ stomach.  
 
“You ready for me?” Chris breathed against his mouth.
 
Whimpering, Tom nodded.  Chris pulled back far enough to feel around blindly
for the condom he had tossed on the bed earlier.  Fingers closing around it, he
quickly tore the packaging open.  As Chris rolled the condom on, he was keenly
aware of Tom’s eyes on him. Watching.  Chris squeezed more of the lube out on
to his fingers and, for Tom’s benefit, Chris gave his cock a few long, hard
strokes, hearing the boy’s sharp intake of breath. 
 
“You want this, Tom?” Chris asked.
 
“Yes.  Yes, please,” Tom begged.
 
Grunting, Chris pushed Tom down, hands on either side of Tom’s head and body
wedged between Tom’s thighs.  He took hold of his cock, guiding it to Tom’s
slickened and loosened hole.
 
“Hold on to me,” Chris panted, waiting as Tom’s hands scrambled up, gripping
Chris’ shoulders.  “And make sure to stay relaxed.”
 
Chris then pushed forward, groaning at the resistance, before it gave way,
surrounding him in tight, slick heat.  Tom whimpered, fingers digging into
Chris’ back.  Sensing Tom’s discomfort, Chris tried to go as slow as he could,
pushing in inch by inch, letting Tom adjust to the stretch, as he watched the
emotions flit across Tom’s face.  The boy’s eyes grew wide as his body was
speared open, the new sensations flooding him.  When Chris’ hips met Tom’s, he
came to a stop.
 
“You okay?” Chris asked, muscles straining as he held himself still above Tom. 
 
Tom blinked up at him, those big blue eyes glistening and filled with emotion.
Chris felt Tom’s hold on his shoulders tighten as Tom pulled him closer, and
Chris leaned down, letting his lips ghost over Tom’s, breathing him in. 
Moaning, Tom locked his arms around Chris’ neck, returning his kiss hungrily. 
 
“I’m going to move, Tom,” Chris said against his lips. “I need to move.”
 
Tom nodded, arms still locked around Chris’ neck.  And as soon as Chris rocked
his hips forward—a gentle motion that sent jolts of electricity up Tom’s
spine—Tom let out a startled cry.    Chris kissed him again, soothing him. 
Pulling out slowly, Chris thrust forward with a bit more force, listening
carefully to Tom’s reactions.  The boy’s breath hitched but he didn’t appear to
be in much pain.  So Chris did it again and again, pace slowly quickening as
Tom’s voice changed, little moans and whines tumbling from his lips. 
 
Tom found himself unable to think; mind completely wiped of anything other than
Chris above him.  He felt so full, so overwhelmed.  Stretched to bursting, a
feeling that was almost too much to bear but felt so good all at the same
time.  It was terrifying and amazing all at once.  And then Chris was grabbing
him by the backs of knees, pulling his legs up so they wrapped around his hips
and tilting Tom’s hips up.  And that was when his cock brushed something inside
Tom that made his stomach flip and his body feel like shocks were running
through it.
 
“Ngh. Fuck!” Tom gasped out, hips bucking upward. 
 
“Say that again,” Chris grunted in his ear, thrusting harder.  “Say it again
for me.”
 
Tom panted as he dug his nails into Chris’ shoulder. 
 
“What? Say what?” he asked on a gasp.
 
“‘Fuck.’ Never heard you say a dirty word before, Tom,” Chris growled.  “Tell
me you want me to fuck you.”
 
Tom blushed, too embarrassed to say something like that on purpose, but then
Chris angled his hips, thrusting deeper and Tom cried out.  Chris was hitting
that spot again, the one that made all thoughts fly out of Tom’s head.     And
then it was like all the bashfulness had evaporated.
 
“Mm, f-fuck me,” Tom gasped, tucking his face into the crook of Chris’ neck,
arching his narrow hips up to meet every thrust.  “Fuck me. Please!  Want you
to fuck me.”
 
Hearing those words come out of the mouth of such a sweet, unassuming boy,
pushed Chris over the edge.  He grabbed Tom’s hips as he began to pound in to
him.  Tom’s cries took on a high-pitched quality, as he arched his back, eyes
squeezed shut and long, pale neck on display.   One of Chris’ hands snaked down
in between them, closing around Tom’s cock and began stroking the boy in time
with his thrusts.  
 
“Oh!  Oh God!” Tom cried out.  “Ah! Ch-Chris-!  Wait! I’m- I’m gonna come!”
 
But Chris didn’t stop.  He stroked faster, running his thumb over the slick
head of the boy’s sensitive cock.  And just like that, Tom’s body was arching
up, walls clamping down around Chris’ cock, as Tom came, painting his stomach
in streaks of thick white come.  He let out a beautiful, sated little whine
once he was spent.  And Chris thought he was beautiful.
 
Tom’s body fell to the mattress, limp and covered in a light sheen of sweat. 
Chris wanted to come so badly, cock so hard it felt like it was near bursting,
buried deep inside Tom’s tight heat, but he didn’t want to hurt the boy by
fucking him hard now that his body was probably oversensitive.  But Tom just
looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes and smiled.  He reached up to wrap his
arms around Chris’ neck again, pulling him down and kissing along his mouth,
jaw, and neck.  Tom then bucked his hips enthusiastically, urging Chris to
continue.
 
And that was all the permission Chris needed.  He groaned into Tom’s neck,
pistoning his hips as he sought his release.  Tom let out a few small whines,
legs tightening around Chris’ waist.  But he didn’t complain as Chris took his
pleasure.  All it took was the feel of Tom’s teeth grazing against his
collarbones for Chris’ toes to curl and his climax to hit him.  With a grunt,
Chris came into the condom, pumping his hips hard.  As the last few spurts left
him, Chris rolled his hips lazily, pressing his body close to Tom’s.
 
Breathing heavily, they both took a few moments to catch their breaths.  Chris
looked down at Tom’s flushed face, loving how disheveled he looked, blond curls
plastered to his forehead, come splatted on his stomach and chest.  The boy
smiled up at him, that sweet cherubic quality still about him, and Chris
grinned back.  He leaned down to quickly nip at Tom’s lips, causing him to
giggle.  They kissed lazily for a few seconds, before Chris pulled back, easing
his cock out of Tom’s well-fucked hole.  Tom let out a soft hiss and Chris
kissed him again in apology. 
 
Chris slid his body off of Tom’s, moving to the edge of the bed and pulling the
used condom off.  Tying it, Chris tossed it in the waste basket by the bed.  As
he got to his feet, he could feel Tom’s eyes on his back and he turned around
to smile at the boy.  Tom blushed, having been caught, but he didn’t look away,
letting his eyes take in Chris in all his nakedness.
 
“Wait here,” Chris said, before walking into the attached bathroom.
 
He came back with a damp cloth, and Tom blushed as Chris wiped his body down,
caressing his stomach and in between his legs.  Chris then tossed the cloth
across the room, in the general direction of a pile of laundry, before climbing
into the bed.  Tom, who had shifted on to his side when Chris had left for the
bathroom, looked at Chris somewhat unsurely.  Like he didn’t know what came
“next.”  Like maybe Chris would still not want him to stay. 
 
“We’re having a sleepover, aren’t we?” Chris said as he wrapped his arms around
Tom. 
 
When the words left Chris’ mouth, he felt Tom’s body relax in his arms.  Tom
let out a contented sigh, tucking his face in to the crook of Chris’ neck and
inhaling deeply.  Chris grabbed the covers and pulled them over his and Tom’s
bodies.  It was only a matter of minutes before Tom’s breathing had evened out
in the telltale signs of sleep, body wrapped around Chris and warm breaths
puffing against Chris’ neck.   Liking the feeling of Tom pressed up against
him, the boy’s sweet smell filling his nose, Chris felt himself relaxing,
feeling the familiar pull of sleep.  He pressed a soft kiss to Tom’s forehead
before succumbing. 
                                      ***
Hours later, Chris lay awake staring at his ceiling as he absentmindedly ran
his fingers through Tom’s curls.  Dawn was already approaching, casting the
room in a light gray glow.  But Chris couldn’t go back to sleep.  All he could
do was think. 
 
Chris couldn’t say he regretted it.  He knew that there were many things that
complicated this “thing” between himself and Tom.  But he couldn’t honestly say
that he would go back and undo it.  Now that he had crossed the line, he didn’t
want anything else but to be Tom’s, and for Tom to be his.  Tom was his
student, and Tom was most definitely too young for him.  There were so many
things that would make this difficult.  But Tom made him laugh. Tom made being
here in England seem so much better.  He had completely changed the way Chris
looked at things; like he had given color to an otherwise gray world.  Tom was
genuine, and sweet, and kind.  And every time Chris saw the boy his day was
immediately better. 
 
Tom would be 17 in a little over two months.  And while it hadn’t initially
been part of the “plan,” Chris found himself thinking that maybe he could make
a life for himself in here after all.  He had a feeling that he would try
anything, if it meant that he could keep Tom.  He would do anything, as long as
Tom wanted him. 
 
Tom muttered something in his sleep as he shifted closer to Chris, as if
seeking his warmth.  His hand ran across Chris’ chest, and Chris pulled him
closer, tucking Tom in to his side.  This felt right.  Tom felt right.  And
Chris was willing to face whatever obstacles the future held.  
 
Anything for Tom. 
 
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A/N:  So there you have it!  I hope you enjoyed!  Please let me know your
thoughts! :) 
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