Facing Giants

Synopsis:

Javier enjoys working with young people, that's why he became a high school teacher. Having suffered through his own high school hell, he promised himself to never stand by and allowed one of his students to suffer the same fate.

When he notices one of his students suffering at the hands of the class bully, he sets up daily training sessions to teach his student the self-defence techniques needed not be a victim any longer. What follows is a much deeper relationship than either of them could have anticipated.

Niches:

m/m, love, rimming, anal, kissing, oral

 *****

Facing Giants

"Get the hell out of my classroom." Javier felt the bit of self-control he clung on to slipping through his grip. His usual affable countenance that he'd carefully crafted to stay relatable to his students had been flung out the window about ten minutes ago. He'd just about had it with this kid and could barely keep it together at that point.

"The fuck are you on? You're paid to teach me bastard, not chase me out of school," Brady said.

"I won't tell you again," Javier said. His low tone and tensed frame successfully communicated his high strung temperament at that instant and Brady must've thought it not worth it to push his luck. It was with relief that Javier watched his student collect his books and get up from the desk, grinding his chair into the tiles. He knew that putting distance between him and this person was key to him keeping his job and freedom.

"Asshole," Brady said before kicking the door open and making his exit.

"Anyone else want to follow?" Javier said. He challenged his class with a severely pissed off stare and was satisfied to no end when there was no sign of rebellion. "Turn to page 97 in your texts."

Disaster averted, he thought, and mentally wiped his brow.

The muggy summer air stifled his breath as Javier made his way out of the comforts of his air conditioned classroom. He loved the humid Florida summers but with days like these even he doubted his endurance for high temperatures. As he made his way to the impending comfort of his air conditioned Ford he noticed the familiar blond head of one of his favorite and most tragic students. Mostly what appealed to Javier about Dylan was that he was a quiet and generally solid A student. He depended on Dylan's A each term as one of the four A's he needed to keep the headmaster square off his back, but he also genuinely liked the guy. Javier was still working on replacing his A with another student after Dylan's graduation that year. He walked up to Dylan and sighed at the perpetually slumped shoulders of his student.

"Good job on your Shakespeare paper, Mr. Watson," Javier said. He smiled at the small smile of satisfaction that crept its way over Dylan's features as he made eye contact.

"All in a fortnight's work, sir," Dylan said.

"I particularly enjoyed your eleven points of evidence in support of claims of his homosexuality," he said.

"You know me, I love courting controversy," Dylan said, his eyes burning.

It was sad that these glimpses of youthfulness were so rare in his student. It was inevitable, he thought, one's survival dictating that you build up a thick skin, especially in this school.

"What Brady said today was not okay," Javier said. As soon as he mentioned the incident he saw Dylan visibly shutdown. His receptive eyes became glassy and his demeanor guarded.

"He's the leader of a bunch of jerks who'll amount to nothing," he said. "Thanks for getting up on him for what he said, but it won't make a difference. In future just don't do anything, please. You've probably only made things worse."

"Look, there's no way-"

"I have to get going," Dylan said, "I'm late for work."

Javier stared at the slumped shoulders and defeated demeanor of his student walk towards the lot, the lighthearted senior he'd been talking to a minute ago nowhere to be seen.

*****

Javier sipped on the tangy red wine that helped him to get through grading his English lit papers. After three years in the public schooling system he found he had to adjust his wine budget these days, requiring more alcohol to get through his paper grading responsibilities. He wasn't sure why but it seemed the literacy levels of many of the students that crossed his path was diminishing each year, leaving him stumped how some had reached their senior year at all. Shaking his head at the instant messaging grammar in one of his students' literature essays he topped up his glass and sat back in the chair, staring mindlessly at his illuminated fish tank.

It wasn't long at all until his thoughts turned to one student in particular. Dylan was a sweetheart, he could tell. Some people were just too sensitive a soul for this world. He fought to prevent the usual sadness of that statement's truth depressing him again. He liked the kid, not only was he as smart as a whip but he was kind and sensitive, everything that appealed to him. Not to mention his slight build, blond hair and fair, Norwegian complexion.

It was the perfect contrast to his hairy, dark Hispanic build. He had no qualms about his attraction to his student who was 18 and undeniably beautiful. He saw many testosterone overridden young adults every day, handsome, rugged men in the making, but few could be described as beautiful, like Dylan is.

Javier felt the rush of heat to his crotch and knew he'd have to get that seen to before he had a hope in hell of concentrating on further grading papers.

The next morning Javier was seated at his desk, enjoying the last moments of peace as he sipped on his steaming coffee before the bell rang. Ignoring the loud rush of teenage hormones that made its way into the classroom he continued savoring his coffee until everyone started to settle down. He took his class register and started going down the attendance list and called out the names.

He noticed Dylan's head covered by a sweatshirt hoody, his frame hunched over his desk. When he came to Brady's name he got up from his desk and walked to the middle of the room.

"What did I tell you yesterday? I told you to get the hell out of my class," he said, looking straight at Brady.

"This is bullshit," Brady said and kicked his backpack under the desk for emphasis.

"I don't give a rat's ass whether you think it bullshit or not, I told you you're out of here."

"I'll report you," Brady said.

"Please do, then we can discuss why I booted your raggedy ass from my class in the first place. I'm sure your parents care very deeply about you and will be here to get to the bottom of why you're not welcome in here." Javier dismissed any further conversation and continued reading down the list of names. When he got to Dylan's name he saw the shadow of a bright shiner underneath the hoody, along with a painful looking busted and swollen lip. He at once had the conflicting urge to console his student while at the same time the crushing urge to dish some bullies their own medicine. He decided to let it lie, for now, and continued with the class register.

The entire day was a wash as far as Javier was concerned. He couldn't get Dylan out of his mind and he was getting angrier as the day progressed. By afternoon he was ready to go to war for all the Dylans in his class and school. The point is that bullies were cowards, and he knew from experience that each and every one will back down when confronted. They rule with fear and he never liked bullies and won't stand for it in his class.

"Hold up," he called and caught up to Dylan.

"I was just on my way to extra algebra classes," Dylan said and kept on walking.

"Wait a second," Javier said and walked in front of Dylan, cutting him off. He forced Dylan to acknowledge him and look up at him.

"What happened to you?"

"You happened," Dylan said. "Your misguided attempt at social justice is what happened to me. Why couldn't you just let things lie?"

"What are you on about?"

"It was bad enough in the past," Dylan said, "but it was manageable at least. Now everything's a thousand times worse, but at least you can sleep better at night thinking you solved everything."

"Did Brady do this?"

"Oh my god," Dylan said. "You just don't get it, and you never will." Dylan sidestepped him and continued walking.

"Hold up," Javier said. "I'm trying to help you."

"Asking me if Brady and his idiot thugs beat me up won't help me any, because I'll never say. Otherwise you'll swoop in and call them out, but I'll still have to share a locker room with them, walk down hallways, sit in assembly and walk home. It'll just make things even worse than it is already. Why can't you see this?"

"I'm only trying to help you, Dylan," he said, falling into step with Dylan who continued down the hall. Javier was trying to make eye contact with him, attempting to gauge the extent of his injuries under the hood of his sweatshirt. "I won't stand for one of my students calling another a faggot. I don't understand why you would either," he said.

Dylan stopped suddenly and pulled back the hoodie. His usual pale and smooth skin was bruised and cut up, his right eye swollen. His bottom lip was busted up and his left cheek looked painful. It made Javier so enraged and took him right back to his own school days.

"What the fuck Dylan?"

"When were you last in high school? Like, twenty years ago?"

"Six years, actually," he said.

"Whatever," Dylan said. "Maybe you've forgotten how it works, but if you make it through the day in one piece it's a miracle. I am not an activist, I can't take on anyone else's battles, I have a hard enough time fighting my own."

"You're not an activist but you prefer being a victim?" Javier said.

"Man screw you, you're way out of bounds," Dylan said. "I'm so over everyone at this lame school and this crap town."

"So you can get mad about it," Javier said.

"What the hell do you mean?"

"Contrary to popular belief, I'm not that much older than the rest of you, and I can clearly recall what it was like in high school. If I could have it over, I'd make a lot of different decisions about the treatment I accepted from others. I'm not asking you to take on anyone else's battles."

"What are you asking, then? What do you want Mr. Martinez?"

"Meet me tomorrow after school in the gymnasium," he said. "Just give me twenty minutes. I promise I won't make any more waves for you. All I'm asking is twenty of your valuable minutes and that's it."

Dylan seemed to contemplate him a moment before sighing then walking away again. "Fine, then, if that'll get you off of my case."

Javier couldn't verify it with his own eyes but he was sure he heard a hint of a smile in his student's retreating voice.

*****

"Put your bag down," Javier said.

"You're not going to beat me up, are you?" Dylan asked.

Javier finished his air punch warm up exercises. "I like a fair fight," he said.

Dylan put his book bag down and joined him at the bleachers. "So you've got approximately eighteen minutes thirty-seconds left."

"I'll have to use them wisely, then." He pulled his left arm to the back and pulled it with his right arm, stretching out. He noticed Dylan's eyes keeping an eye on his exposed tummy as his vest crawled up. "Have you ever thought about fighting back?"

"Seriously? In case you've forgotten, brutes travel in packs."

"I haven't," Javier said. "But that doesn't mean you just have to take it and play dead."

"What do you suggest, then? Hit back and get suspended?"

"Are they getting suspended for beating you up?"

"No," Dylan said uncertainly. He shuffled his feet and continued sneaking looks at his stretching exercises.

"Why not?" Javier asked.

"Because the system is rigged against us," Dylan said bitterly.

"Something tells me you asked for help in the past and got a brush off," he said.

"Look nobody gives a damn about anybody else. Everyone has their own shit they're dealing with and don't give a crap about yours."

"That's B.S. if I've ever heard it," Javier said.

"What's the point of this? Your time is running out."

"Hit me," Javier said. He came to a standstill in front of Dylan, challenging him with his much larger and imposing Hispanic build. "Come on," he coaxed. "Give me your best shot."

"What are you on about?"

"What? You're not afraid of me, are you?" he asked.

"First of all, you're twice my size. Second of all, I've had about as much of an ass whipping I can handle this week. My quota's used up," Dylan said.

"Look at me, Dylan," he said. "You have a right to protect yourself. You don't just have to take what those guys are giving you."

Dylan still seemed unsure about what to do and shifted from one foot to another awkwardly.

"Just give me your best shot," he said, "and we'll see what we're working with."

Dylan flew into a sudden and swift motion, lifting his right arm and swinging it from the side with clumsiness, trying to land a fist shot on Javier's chin. Instead Javier instinctively blocked the hit with his forearm and grabbed Dylan into a headlock. He let go instantly and let Dylan settle on his feet again.

"Smart move trying to catch me off guard. Your right swing needs a hell of a lot of work. I could see it coming a mile away and had anticipated my move about an hour before yours landed."

"It's the best I got," Dylan said defensively, breathing heavily. His petite chest heaved from the exertion, straining against his tight shirt. Even with his beat up face he was still a very beautiful young man.

"Everyone can improve," Javier said. "Try again," he said.

Dylan looked doubtful.

"Come on, this time I won't headlock you."

Dylan repeated his clumsy attempt at a right swing. Instead of blocking the hit and grabbing him in a headlock, Javier let the hit land on his chin. The kid packed a punch, but it wasn't near enough to beat off a herd of bullies.

He broke out laughing at the triumphant look on Dylan's face, but stopped when he saw the look of defeat take control of his features again.

"The thing is," Javier said in as non-condescending tone as he could muster, "to use the element of surprise to your advantage." He increased the distance between them and continued. "Even when the other guy anticipates a hit, you still have an advantage. But when you swing your arm way back and come at him from the side, it gives him all the time in the world to anticipate your hit and to block it successfully, like I did."

"So what am I supposed to do?" Dylan asked.

"When you want to deliver a fantastic right hook, you have to do it quickly and without hesitation," he said. "You also don't take the side detour thing that you do. Imagine your arm to be a snake that strikes immediately. Look for the quickest route to your target. Shoot right out straight in front of you. Don't swing your arm from the side, just pull your arm back and let it rip."

"You mean like this?" Dylan said than popped his arm up from his side, aiming it Javier's chin but instead landing the blow on his chest with a loud thud.

"Whoa," he said, catching his breath. "That was definitely an improvement." He smiled at the look of satisfaction and pride that clouded his student's bruised features.

They spent another fifteen minutes practicing swings with him giving Dylan a few more practical points to improve his swing and delivery.

He couldn't help but notice the fresh autumn smell that came off Dylan in waves, probably a scented body wash or shampoo that left its mark the entire day. His exertion only emphasized his boyish build and he realized that even though Dylan might be eighteen, he still had some teenage features that made him look much younger and more innocent than his years.

Eventually both of them were sweating and heaving and were tired.

"Same time tomorrow?" Dylan asked as they both lay sprawled out on the court, trying to catch their breaths.

"You got it," Javier said.

Getting up, Dylan collected his things. "What kind of an English teacher teaches street fighting anyway," Dylan said and smirked, making his way out of the gym. Javier stared at his student's tightly clad jean ass and imagined the sweat trickling down his ass, wondering just how tight a virgin ass really is.

It had been three days since their first training, and Javier could swear he saw Dylan walking a bit more upright, a bit more confidently. He also noticed he wasn't wearing his hooded sweatshirt any longer, displaying his healing injuries like war trophies. True to his word he'd stopped kicking Brady out of his class, but Brady didn't seem like he was in the mood to test the water again and simply ignored both him and Dylan, opting instead to make a loud noise guffawing at his own lame wit with his friends.

Javier found he was looking more and more forward to his private afternoon lessons. Dylan had let down much of his guard with him and they were getting to be much more comfortable around each other. He knew Dylan shared his same inclination to the more masculine sex, he had a fine tuned gaydar that hardly ever let him down. Approaching the subject was what perplexed him, though. He didn't want to scare the guy off and risk losing the headway they'd made the last few days.

He knew that in order to deal with the root causes of why Dylan allowed him to be treated the way he was that they would have to address it, but his experience in this field was sorely lacking. He decided that he would just put his own feelings aside, and hormones too, and let things progress naturally. He did find that his mornings were dragging, though, and that he wanted to get to the afternoons faster these days.

Javier had by now cemented into his mind the exact way Dylan's jeans hugged his small bubble ass, how his chest heaved when he got exerted, how the small of his back clung to his shirt when he started to sweat and how a pool of sweat collected above his upper lip. He had used these features in detail in his fantasies at night and before school to keep his hormones under control around Dylan. He loved the smell of his body wash or shampoo mixing with his sweat and drilled him extra hard to get him to the point of breaking a sweat just so that he could inhale his boyishness.

He knew Dylan was also checking him out during their training sessions. It was pretty difficult to miss when you spend the entire time watching the guy you're with out of the corner of your eye. If he had to he'd admit to egging his student on a bit by wearing his extra tight fit workout pants and snug fitting sweatshirt. He knew his twenty-four year old physic held up very well, without being modest. His dedication to keeping mind and body fit had helped him to avoid the inevitable flabby midriff that many of his high school and varsity mates now had to already contend with, aside from keeping up with the mortgage, wife and kids. Sometimes he was just grateful as hell for his bachelorhood.

He was barely able to conceal his desire and lust as he saw Dylan's very young, very blond head coming around the corner of the gym's entrance. He knew he was playing with fire, but Dylan wouldn't be his student for much longer.

"What are we doing today?"

"I thought we'd tackle a bit of defense."

"Great," Dylan said, sounding excited.

"You've really gotten into this," Javier noted, watching his perky blond student do his mandatory warm up exercises.

"I guess so," Dylan said.

"So tell me something."

"What do you want to know?"

"Why didn't you ever fight back any of the times they attacked you?"

"You saw my left hook, I never stood a chance."

"Even with your handicapped left hook you still packed a punch." Javier wasn't letting him off this easily.

Dylan stood up straight from his stretches and looked him in the eye, as if sizing him up.