"You're late Styles."

"It's your fault."

He leans across his table and whispers "I didn't even have to touch you."

A shiver runs down my spine as I find the courage to say, "you were wrong."

"Excuse me?"

"I had a decrescendo. You're the English teacher, look it up in the dictionary."

"Diminuendo has such a prettier ring to it, now take your seat."

That fucking smirk. He thinks he won this battle.

"Robert Frost guys. What do we know about him?"

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood," Liam responds.

"Fantastic," he says enthusiastically. I'll never understand how someone can be so cheery this early in the morning and go off on a tangent about symbolism and the landscape of poetry.

I let out a small yawn and rest my head on my folded arms.

"Harry, you aren't going to fall asleep during his lecture are you?"

"Shhhh, I'm just resting my eyes. I'll stay awake."

I lied.

I fucking fell asleep.

Fingers card through my hair and my head snaps up, meeting a pair of amused amber eyes.

"Nice nap?"

"Why didn't you wake me up," I frown. "I'm sorry, you're obviously not boring, I just-"

"You speak entirely too fast Harry. Breathe."

I let out a nervous laugh as his lips tug upward into a smile.

"I figured you were tired. I know I'm not being very fair because I normally don't do this for students but I'll send you my lecture notes."

I give a lopsided grin and he pokes at my dimples.

"Thank you," I blush furiously and twiddle with my thumbs.

"You're always an exception. By the way, I see no fault in saying diminuendo. A decrescendo and a diminuendo are very similar things. Then again, I teach English, not music theory," he adds cheekily.

"Nice save smartass."

"Don't you have another class to scurry off to?"

"Nah," I make a grand display of stretching, revealing the pale patch of skin beneath the hem of my shirt. "Besides, I've read Robert Frost stuff before, I don't think I missed anything."

"Just me flirting with Liam," he teases. "He's very fit."

"You think you're so funny."

"No, I know I'm funny. There's a difference."

"Teachers," I scoff. "Always acting too smart for their own good."

"Students," he tsks. "Always sleeping in class and doing anything for extra credit. Such sluts for turtlenecks."

My mouth falls to the floor. "You did not go there."

He just chuckles lightly and pats my head. "There there Harry, it's all in good fun."

"Well...you enjoy it," I spurt back.

"If it was anybody else I would say no but here's the catch Harry," I hang onto every word.

"y

o

u

a

r

e

t

h

e

o

n

l

y

o

n

e"

"I...can I come over tonight?"

"After you do your homework."

...

"Harry, you didn't eat dinner last night. Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, I was just swamped with homework."

You're a terrible liar. You were jacking off to the sound of your teacher's voice. It's pathetic, to fantasize about your teacher scolding you, bending you over his desk.

snatching kisses

soft,

slow

stroking

and tan

slivers

of skin

so sweet;

my fingers

feeling

the heat

of his scalp,

his lips

tracing

my collarbone

with

the tip

of his tongue,

erections

catching

grinding

grunting

thrusting,

until

i come

so hard

i black out

"Just make sure you eat something tonight."

"Okay mum," I kiss her cheek and help her prepare the casserole.

"We haven't done this is forever," her eyes glisten with tears.

I don't want to take her for granted. I should hold onto moments like these.

"Let's bake something too," I suggest.

She throws her arms around me and I chuckle, thankful that she's happy and healthy.

"Can I tell you something?"

"Anything baby," she smiles and ruffles my hair.

"Promise you won't get upset."

"You've given me a lot to be upset about in your eighteen years but I love you just the same."

I take a deep breaths collecting my thoughts and mustering the courage to say

"I think I'm in love."

Her fingers are coated in flour, she stops rolling out some dough and turns to me, her mouth forming a tight line.

"You're my baby Harry, stop growing up."

Her lip wobbles so I cling to her.

She latches on tightly, her tears soaking my shirt sleeve.

"It's fine. I'm eighteen. We have plenty of time to burn cookies together."

"Oh no, not on my watch," she beams proudly. "Golden brown. Always."

"I'm not leaving anytime soon but I know this is more than a crush. It's deeper than that."

"All I want is for you to be happy and to live a life twice as blessed as mine. I hope he sees what I see in you. You've always admired the simple things in life and I'm thankful for that. I'm proud I raised a son that can find the beauty in everything."

"I love you. I know I don't say it enough."

"You prove it to me and that means so much more."

...

"The lump is getting smaller. She's not going through with the chemo."

I trace mindless circles on his back before my hands move to his tense shoulders, kneading his tender flesh.

"Cookies and a massage? Are you making up for sleeping in class?"

"Maybe," I kiss his neck. "Or maybe I just love you."

"I prefer the latter," he chuckles.

"Me too," I hum in agreement. "I told you I had a good feeling Zayn. I'm not sure miracles exist but your mum is a miraculous woman."

His eyes close as my nose nuzzles against the nape of his neck, right beneath his hairline. My fingers trail

s l o w l y

down his spine and chills sprout up across his skin.

"I'm so sleepy. This must have been how you felt in my class."

I laugh lightly, my lips skimming over his skin.

"I think I know how to wake you up," my voice is a mere whisper.

The room is still, two synchronized heartbeats and shallow breaths the only sound.

"Sounds tempting. Are you always this good with your hands?"

"You're feisty."

"your touch

is poetry

so let

your fingers

leave lines

upon

my skin"

I'll do anything. I want every brush and stroke of my fingers to write letters on his warm skin.

I love you.

It's just us.

Just us.

Just us in the moonlight. You look so beautiful Zayn, a glint of light on the tip of your nose

like a dab of white paint, beams of light illuminating your cheeks

You're a masterpiece

I'm just admiring you

My fingers don't miss an inch of my skin as I gently tug off his shirt. He fumbles with his zipper and manages to pull his jeans off. I'm trembling myself as my fingers reach the waistband of his underwear. This isn't new to me, I just always grow nervous when he looks at me. He smiles reassuringly as if to say I love you Harry, don't be afraid. So my voice quivers as I say

"I will touch you and touch and touch

until you give

me suddenly a smile, shyly obscene

(i will

touch you with my mind.)Touch

you, that is all,

lightly and you utterly will become

with infinite care

the poem which i do not write."

"Harry," he sighs.

My lips find his.

It's where they go if they're ever astray.

That's where they belong.

He pulls away and kneels in front of me, straddling my lap and titling his head, altering the angle. I moan deep into his throat as his thumbs press to my chin, forcing my mouth open. I grab at his thighs, gripping tightly as his tongue dips into my mouth.

Moonlight falls over one side of his face and casts shadows that dance on the walls.

He's rough this time, his tongue grazing the roof of my mouth, just barely touching my tongue before tracing my lips. My fingers dig into his thighs absent-mindedly but it also seems to make his member stir beneath me. I feel his arousal grow as his tongue drags along my lower lip, his teeth tugging.

I whimper and he pulls away before positioning himself in my lap. He smiles, his lips slightly swollen, his hips grinding down against me. My eyes flutter shut and his thumbs trace over my collarbone before pressing lightly, applying pressure around my throat.

My breathing shallows and my pulse quickens as he pushes a bit harder, constraining my breath until I'm completely hard beneath him.

He releases the pressure, his hands sliding to my chest and stopping at my waist.

I recapture my breath and in a haze my jeans come off. His finger circles around my nipple and travels down my chest.

"No, it's my turn."

My heart pounds in my eardrums as I reach for his cock, fisting the base, stroking him lightly.

His mouth parts and I press a kiss to the side of his throat. He licks his lips so I trace over them with mine, my fingers tangling in his hair. I suck his bottom lip into my mouth and bite down roughly.

"Harry," he moans as I pull away. "Let me touch you now."

Two fingers slip between my lips and my tongue darts out, sliding between them to slick them up. His fingertips press to my hole as he says

"i want you

to remember

the outline

of my lips

and my fingers

stretching you open,

the way my touch

sears your exterior

like molten lava

let me set this room

on fire,

and burn you

with my touch"

He slides two fingers in and I suck in a deep breath, willing myself to relax. I bush back against his fingers so he kisses the base of my neck and trails his tongue down my body. All the way to the juncture where my thigh meets my pelvis. I gasp and press up against the friction. His nails dig at my thighs as he presses a few kisses there.

He taps gently at my knees and they raise as he presses a kiss to the base of my cock before his tongue darts to my hole. It slides in alongside his fingers and my back arches.

A third finger is added and I clench around him as his tongue moves more diligently.

I can feel my climax building, I'm almost to the edge, about to reach my peak when he stop, running his tongue up the base of my leaking cock.

"Zayn please," I whimper.

"I don't have any lube."

"I'm sorry I slept in class. Please punish me, please-"

He thrusts in deeply and i gasp at the sensation that washes over me. His hand wraps around my member, his thumb swiping over my head

o n c e

t w i c e

t h r e e

t i m e s

as I clench around him, moaning his name

crescendo

as he strokes my oversensitive bundle of nerves

a few lazy thrusts later and Zayn comes, spilling inside of me with a small groan

My finger dips inside of myself and I curse at the sensitivity.

Full and empty.

Empty and full.

His fingers trace over my knuckles, visible outside of my body and they brush last, slipping in next to mine.

My cock twitches as I let out a frustrated groan. It's too soon. Harry.

You horny son of a bitch.

But then he adds another finger, stretching me impossibly wider. He crooks his wrist, the tip of his finger brushing over the soot that sends a wave of shivers down my spine. I pant until I'm hard and leaking again.

His lips wrap around the head of my cock, fingering me slowly as his mouth slides further down.

I'm falling apart, curse words spilling from my lips, incoherent and broken. I weakly push my hips up and be moans around me, I tug at his hair as I come a second time, utterly spent.

He pulls away and gently pulls his fingers out. I reach for him and in a horse whisper beckon him, wanting to be in his arms.

"I'm here love, m'just going to clean you up okay." He presses a haste kiss to my mouth and I hear running water in the bathroom.

He comes back, pressing a cold flannel to the inside of my thighs. I whimper as it grazes over my sore hole. He sighs and tosses it aside curling up beside me, his fingers carding through my hair. I nuzzle against him and decide

being scorched by Zayn is the best pain I have ever experienced.