Page 51 of Your Only Fan
“Tell me your name,” he asks when he comes up for air.
It’s tempting. To just say it out loud, get it over and done with and deal with the consequences. But fuck me, being with him like this is so addictive that I don’t want to ruin it.
“I will,” I tell him, the promise tinging my voice.
I’m not sure if it’s enough for him. And it frustrates me that I can’t see his eyes or his face to judge how he’s feeling.
I hear him breathe in and out for a few moments that could have been centuries for all I know.
He comes back down on me, kissing me with passion, with more of himself. His hips line up with mine and he grinds on me, and even though he’s still fully clothed, I can feel his hard-on like a scorching fire.
I reach my fingers for his trousers and unbutton his jeans. He uses his own hand to caress my head and boy, if it doesn’t make me hornier.
More desperate.
Once I free him of his pants and his shirt, he collapses back on me, and our skin to skin could make me melt into a puddle if I let it.
“You’re the hottest, sexiest, nicest man I’ve ever been with,” I tell him.
Does it sound desperate? Creepy?
I couldn’t care less anymore.
“So are you,” he replies.
I smile and there’s a sudden warmth in my cheeks.
“You don’t mean that,” I say.
“Of course I do,” he counters.
“Pfft, you don’t even know what I look like,” I tell him.
“Not yet, but I don’t need to see you to know you’re a walking, breathing sin,” he says.
He thinks I’m sinful? Really? Because I definitely don’t feel like that.
“In fact, I think I may have a crush on you,” he adds.
That… takes me by surprise.
How can he have a crush on Mr. X?
“I-I thought you had a crush on your teacher,” I say.
He hums, kissing my cheek and sliding down to my neck.
“I did. But I think I prefer you now. I haven’t thought of him in a while. Not in the way I think of you. I should thank you, really. It seems like you helped me get over him.”
He… he doesn’t like me anymore? But… but only a few days ago he was telling me how badly he had it for his teacher. Maybe he didn’t mean me. Maybe he had a crush on someone else.
No, that’s stupid. I’m the only Afro-Latino teacher in the Arts department. The only one that’s teaching him, anyway.
What happened to all the stuff he said last time?
“Are you sure? Only Friday you were telling me how bad you had it for him,” I say.
I can’t see him, but I can feel his shrug.
