The Consequence of Pining

"Maybe 100 years ago when you were in high school," she snapped, enjoying the twitch of his lips before he schooled his expression back into the flatness of earlier.

"Whatever, sorry, I just can't fucking think when I look at you."

Reyna blushed and glanced down at her sock-covered feet. SHe didn't know how she was going to be able to talk about the attraction she had to him without bursting into flames, but she wanted to. When she glanced back up into his face, he seemed to have relaxed, and she raised her eyebrows expectantly, ready to talk.

"I don't care about getting fired," he repeated, softer now, as he shifted his body a little to face hers. "I'm close to burnt out, anyway. And you know, with my book...I don't necessarily need to be teaching anymore."

Reyna nodded. She did know. Mr. Hart had published a book during the pandemic, one he'd been writing for years, and people had read it, so much so that he'd wound up a New York Times bestselling author. She had emailed him about it, to let him know she had read the book and annotated it like a good girl. He had responded bashfully and with gratitude, and her heart had hurt so much from missing him and school that she had let the conversation die. But yes, she knew that he didn't financially need to be teaching.

He went on. "I just thought I liked it. But this pandemic shit, it's changing that for me. I don't see how I can teach much longer like this."

She nodded. It was a commonly shared sentiment. She was a seasoned teacher's pet, although she'd never quite gotten to the level that she had been at with Mr. Hart with anyone else. Still, she was close enough to most of her teachers that she had been vented to a few times, and this was a familiar topic.

"It's not about losing my job," he repeated. She nodded again. "I just...cannot be some fucking forty-year-old man slobbering after a teenager. The things that I have thought about you should never see the light of day. I--"

"Tell me," Reyna blurted, then shoved a hand over her mouth.

"Reyna," he scolded, looking like he wanted to either strangle her or laugh. "You are treacherous. Terrible for me, I can't stress that enough. I am perverted. Seriously. There is something wrong with me. When I think about you, my brain becomes so goddamn depraved that I feel like I want to drink bleach so I can feel clean again. But you are so lovely, and so precious, and I love being around you. I just...feel like the way I feel about you would...taint you somehow. Make you twisted, too. And you're too sweet, too pure, too perfect. Do you understand?"

Reyna tried to keep her jaw from going slack. He was perverted? Then what was she?

"Um, I have bad news about me..." she murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I don't mean to one-up you, Mr. Hart, but I have been fantasizing about you for three years. Dirty, dirty fantasies. Terrible, I mean it. I'm not pure."

He snorted. "You're a virgin, aren't you?" When she nodded, he went on. "I'm sure your fantasies about me are fine, Reyna. What, am I carrying your groceries into our little house in the country? Holding our babies? Kissing your cheek?"

"No, I--well, yeah, some of that, but usually it's, um...not that." Her cheeks were so red that Mr. Hart seemed to jolt into understanding. His eyes darkened, and Reyna's breathing became shallow.

"Do you want to tell me, Reyna?" When she nodded, he reached for one of her feet and used it to stretch her right leg until most of her calf was resting in his lap. He curled a hand around her leg and stroked mindlessly while she tried to remember how to breathe. "Go ahead, honey."

"Well, it typically starts with us in your bed. I, um, have to walk home because something happens to my car, and you're driving home and you pick me up. You give me a ride because you like me. And then I tell you I don't want to go home. And you say that's fine, and you take me to your house, and I nap in your bed because it's been a long day. While I'm sleeping, I kick the covers off, and I'm wearing a skirt, but I'm not wearing tights. Or...panties. When you come in to check on me, you see that my skirt has ridden up to my hips, and you can see my ass and my...um, you know," she trailed off, meeting his gaze tentatively.

His jaw was clenched, and his eyes dipped down to rest between her thighs. She was fully clothed, but she felt like he was burning through the layers of clothing she wore with the heat of his gaze. She squirmed a little, trying to get some friction. He squeezed her calf.

"Are you talking about your pussy, Reyna? I walk into the room, and you're laying in my bed, and your ass and pussy are visible to me because you slept in my bed in my house without tights or panties on. In a little fucking skirt. Is that what you're talking about, honey?" he murmured, his voice lower than she had ever heard it.

She shifted her hips again, grinding into her seat. He noticed and gave her a slow smile. "Do you normally touch yourself when you think about these things, Reyna?" When she nodded, he eased her knees open and squeezed one warm thigh. "Show me."

"Y-you want me to show you?" she managed, eyes widening.

"Yes. I'm not going to fuck you until you graduate," he promised, caressing each curve of her body with his dark eyes. "But I can watch you fuck yourself with those pretty little fingers, baby. So show me how you do it."

Reyna nodded, wide-eyed, and lifted her hips to slide her leggings down her legs. She tossed them carelessly into the backseat, and a wicked grin flashed over Mr. Hart's face. In a brief moment of bravery, she decided to take her panties off, too. She didn't shave her pubic hair because she had no reason to, but she was grateful that she'd decided to shave that morning in the shower. She was left only in her baggy Carolina t-shirt then, and her gray ankle socks. She imagined she must look ridiculous, but Mr. Hart looked like he'd forgotten how to breathe. She chewed on her lip while he devoured her with his eyes.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Reyna, I...when do you graduate again?"

"June 10," she murmured, chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Mmm," he acknowledged, eyes still locked on her bare lower half. His gaze flicked up to her torso, and then he commanded roughly, "Take the top off, too."

Her pulse jumped, but she obeyed without thought. Being told exactly what to do, being gazed at like you were a present being unwrapped--it was unbelievably heady. Once she was naked, he looked so enamored that she couldn't stop herself from lifting a hand and cradling one full breast in her palm. She had big tits, something it had taken her years to come to terms with, but even then, she'd never truly appreciated them like she did now. Watching Mr. Hart's hands clench like he was trying desperately to hold himself back, to not reach for her, made her feel sexier than she could have ever imagined.

"I am going to fucking ruin you," he told her, voice low and hoarse as his eyes tracked each breath she took, skimming the expanse of her body. "Touch yourself. And finish your story. You're in my bed, and I walk in. Go on."

"W-well, then you lift my hips, and I wake up c-coming on your tongue. And you're possessive in my fantasies, usually, and you tell me I'm yours and that there's no going back, and I like that a lot, and then you get me on my knees and you, um, fuck my face and then come on me, and that's usually when I f-finish," Reyna rambled, fingers stuttering over her body. She couldn't bring herself to put her hands between her legs, even as her pussy throbbed for attention.

Mr. Hart cleared his throat and nodded, still eyeing her. "You've gauged me well, honey. I'm a fucking caveman in real life, too. That's another reason this won't work."

"That's not arousing," Reyna snapped, scowling at him. "How am I supposed to masturbate in front of you when you're such a downer? God."

He shoved his fist against his mouth, biting back a laugh, and she jabbed at him with one foot, fighting her own amusement. It was awkward to describe a fantasy and then try to keep yourself worked up. She couldn't stay in the mood when she was so distracted by her need to get the words out, to tell him what she thinks about. She'd told him something tame, too, hadn't even brushed over the darker things.

"How about I tell you some of the things I think about, hmm? When I'm fucking my hand in the shower every night after I see you," Mr. Hart murmured, giving her rosy body a slow perusal. Reyna nodded emphatically, and he grinned. "You know that little fucker that you're always walking to class with?"

She tilted her head. "James?"

"Sure," he said, narrowing his eyes. She shivered, and he grinned. "But for future reference, do not ever say another man's name when you are naked and panting in front of me, Reyna. I won't take it well."

She nodded. He was perfect for her.

"Good. Anyway, sometimes when I see you with James, I think about what would happen if I grabbed you and pulled you away from him. You walk past my room most days on your way to class, and it wouldn't be difficult to snag your wrist and pull you into my room and away from that little shit. And then I'd lock the door and bend you over my desk and make you come, with my fingers and my mouth and my cock, until you can't think of any other man but me. Until you couldn't pick him out of a lineup. I'm the only thing on your mind. You can't even imagine another man existing, much less walking you to class or making you laugh or fucking that tight little pussy. And just to be safe, I come all over you. On your tits, your face, in your mouth, on your thighs, in your cunt. And even though you wipe it off, you can still smell it. Everyone can. And they know that you're mine, my perfect little fuckslut, marked all over for me."

By the time he was done, Reyna's fingers were circling her clit so feverishly that she thought she might cramp up or something. But the thought of Mr. Hart caring who she's with, wanting to mark her, saying that she's his, was so heady that there was nothing else she could do. She shoved her foot in his direction and managed a desperate "More, please."

"You want more?" he asked, eyes dark. He caught her foot in his palm and traced a nail up the arch. She keened and whimpered at him. "Oh, look at you." He was cooing, like she was a sweet little thing instead of a wanton, desperate girl. "So fucking slutty for me. You can't get off without me talking to you, baby? You need me to tell you just how difficult you've made this past year? How many times I've wanted to knock you to your knees and shove my cock down your throat, so deep that you choke and cry and beg. And then I give you what you want, a cock in your tight pussy, and then you're mine. You've been mine forever, though, haven't you, baby? Your pussy has been mine long before I even wanted it. But I do want it now, my perfect girl. The fucking second you graduate, I am going to fuck you into oblivion. Stake my goddamn claim. Make you come so hard that you cry. And shatter in my arms. And only I get to see that. No other man has, or will. Right?"

Reyna curled her toes against his palm and came with a broken cry. She murmured his name, too, his first name--Henry--and watched his face break into a grin as he cradled her sock-covered foot in his palm. He kissed her ankle and then ran his warm, possessive gaze over her naked body. She shifted to cover herself, embarrassed now that the glow of her orgasm was fading, and he tsked in disapproval, grabbing her wrists and keeping her in his sight.

"So pretty, baby," he murmured. Her heart fluttered, warmed from his attentions. She wasn't pleased with her body, never really had been. She was curvier than everyone her age, and too short for things to be distributed in a flattering way. But now, splayed out in front of the man she'd been obsessed with for years, watching him devour her with his gaze, the insecurity couldn't seem to gain a foothold.

He was still smiling at her when she remembered he had a girlfriend.

"Oh, gosh, are you a cheater?" she whispered, sitting tall and staring at him accusingly. It was hard to be stern when she was naked, but she did her best. His eyebrows furrowed, and he tilted his head.

"I--what?"

"Don't you have a girlfriend?"

Understanding dawned on his face, and he squeezed her foot, still resting in his palm, reassuringly. "Oh. No, honey, we ended things a few months ago."

"Oh, okay." She fell silent, playing with a few strands of hair that had fallen down and brushed over her nipples. When she glanced back up, Mr. Hart was eyeing where the silky strands of her hair shielded and revealed her breasts, a strangled set to his features. She grinned into her palm.

"We should probably get going," he grumbled, still holding her foot. He pressed a soft kiss to the arch and then released her.

"But you..." Flushing, Reyna gestured to Henry's obviously tented crotch. He looked big, not that she had a real frame of reference. And hard. It made her stomach twist in a new wave of arousal, the thought that watching her masturbate had done that to him.

He snorted and reached down to adjust himself as he said, "Don't worry, sweetheart, this is not the first time I've left your presence like this. I'll take care of it."

"Or I could," Reyna suggested, still eyeing him. Her curiosity was piqued beyond repair. She heard him heave a breathless sigh of disbelief, and she reluctantly brought her gaze to his, raising a questioning brow.

"You want to jack me off, Reyna?" He seemed genuinely perplexed by this news, and she tilted her head, equally confused by his reaction.

"I actually wanted to, um, suck it, but yeah, that, too."

His eyes darkened, and he cleared his throat a little. "Not sure I want to know this, but have you ever given a blowjob?"

"What? Of course not," she said. One of the flaws of being strongly attracted to the possessive, jealous type is an extreme idealization of virginity and a propensity towards remaining chaste long past the point where it's normal--just in case her dreams came true, and she wound up with a man who would be charmed by her unwittingly waiting for him. It helped that not many boys were beating down her door or anything.

"Saving yourself for me?" Mr. Hart teased, a lightness to his features now. Reyna rolled her eyes and pretended he was wrong.

"Uh-huh. Can I please suck your cock now?"

His response was to unzip his jeans and pull down his underwear enough for his cock to be exposed. Reyna's mouth fell open. He was big, bigger than she'd thought he would be, and suddenly she began doubting her ability to ever get fucked by that thing. At least her pussy would stretch--but there was no way his cock would fit in her mouth.

She said as much, then lifted her eyes to his face to enjoy his breathless laughter. He was so handsome, and this scene was one from her dreams. Sure, maybe she wasn't usually in a Hyundai Sonata with about seven dents in the side, and maybe she wasn't still in high school, but the other parts of the fantasy--like the warm grin and the hard cock--certainly matched.

"You don't have to," Henry assured her, moving to tuck his length back into his underwear. Reyna made a noise of disagreement and put a hand on his forearm to stop him. She was briefly distracted by the sight of her small, pale, rosy-knuckled hand on his muscular hairy forearm, but she managed to refocus.

"I want to, I just, well, you know, I just want to make sure expectations are low, okay? And I feel like I might bite you or something," she warned. "And I'm worried about reaching you from here. Can I, um, sit at your feet or something?"

Henry took about fifteen seconds to process the many sentiments expressed in her words, and then his gaze softened, and he reached for her. Reyna allowed him to manhandle her over the car's console and onto his broad lap. His cock was still out and hard, throbbing against his thigh. She gave it a cursory pat, unable to help herself, and he sucked in a sharp breath and captured both of her hands in one of his.

"Hold on, honey," he managed, eyes so dark and so warm and hungry that she could barely focus on his words. "Yes, you can sit at my feet. I think that's the best angle if you really want to do this. If you bite my dick off and I bleed to death, I will die happy. And as far as expectations go, even just the sight of you on your knees with my cock in your pretty mouth is enough to make me come. I have nowhere to be tonight."

Reyna leaned her cheek onto his shoulder. He was so wonderful. Her perfect man, really, all she'd thought about for years. It was like he could read her mind and pick out exactly what she needed to hear at any given moment.

He'd been this way when there was a tornado warning at school and everyone had had to stay after dismissal. Reyna had been convinced that her mom was going to die, and even though she'd consciously tried to make her concern seem like a joke and a deliberate exaggeration, Mr. Hart had seemed to sense her real fear. He had sat next to her on the floor under a neighboring desk, knees pulled up to his chest like hers were. Their thighs were touching, and their shoulders, too. He didn't say anything to her, just kept instructing the class to stay away from the windows and close to the floor, but he didn't need to. His touch, his presence, his attention--all of it had soothed her then, just like it soothed her now.

She slinked to her knees and shot him a nervous smile. He smoothed a hand over her cheek, and she leaned instinctively into his palm.

"I knew it would be big," she murmured, gazing wide-eyed at his cock. It was even more gargantuan up close like this. She wondered briefly how she would ever be able to look at him in school again, but once her tongue made its first lick down the length of his cock, her thoughts seemed incapable of veering from the task at hand.

"Shit," Henry hissed, locking his hand in her hair. She glanced up at him, gauging his response. He looked so unbelievably hot, head thrown back and jaw clenched, somehow managing to keep his eyes locked unflinchingly on her every movement.

"Good?" she asked, mostly just fishing at that point. He nodded, looking like he was doing everything in his power to hold back.

"You're perfect, sweetheart," he murmured. Reyna flushed.

It was the right thing to say. Reyna's smile slipped into something naughtier, and she curled her small hand around the base of his cock. Its girth looked downright obscene in her grip, and she was momentarily entranced.

She wrapped her lips around the tip of his cock, still tentative, and felt him swell in her mouth. She flashed him an uncertain glance and popped off before kissing down his length, stopping at the root. She circled back to the tip and licked off the bead of precum waiting for her, humming her pleasure at the taste.

"I--this is hard," she said after a few moments of licking and sucking. Henry gave her a warm smile and reached down to drag her up, but she frowned and slapped his hands away. "Well, I don't want to stop, hold on. Can't you just do it for me?"

"Can I suck my own dick? No, honey."

Reyna scowled and rolled her eyes.

"You know that's not what I mean," she grumbled. She pressed her forehead to his thigh and exhaled. His cock twitched, and she smiled up at him. "I love it. I'm just out of ideas for what to do, and I want you to help me, please. Guys are rougher in porn, you know."

"Well, I'm not a porn star, and I care about women," he muttered, running a large hand through his untidy hair.

Reyna pouted and buried her face in his thigh before leaning back a little and gazing intently up at him. She could see the moment his resolve cracked.

"My sweet girl," he murmured, sighing and using his thumb pressed to her chin to open her pretty mouth. She grinned. "Do you want me to fuck your face, baby? Is that what you need? You really are depraved, aren't you, honey? Just for me, though, right?"