A.N: OTP alert! Thanks for reading.
Mr. Miyamoto
This was cruel and unusual torture. If Leo didn't know any better, he'd say that Principal Saki knew exactly what he was doing by placing the turtle in detention with his philosophy teacher. It was absurd of course. Saki just held a deep and unfounded hatred for Leo and his brothers (something about a rivalry with their adoptive father when he and the principal were kids). Saki knew nothing of Leo's feelings for his teacher sat at his desk at the front of class.
Detention today was annoyingly empty. They were teetering on the brink of summer and the students were all of their best behaviour, eager to enjoy the sunshine once school had ended rather than spend an agonising hour in a stuffy classroom. Leo didn't know whether to be grateful or irritated. Either way, he purposely chose a desk three rows away from his teacher. He still couldn't avoid that tantalising white musk smell the rabbit seemed to radiate.
It was foolish, Leo knew. He was eighteen and preparing to go to college, but Mr. Miyamoto was still his teacher, and any crushes should be strictly forbidden. It was useless telling himself that though. As soon as he'd clapped eyes on him at the start of the school year, Leo had fell completely and devastatingly head over heels for him. He'd spent ten excruciating months adoring his teacher from afar, and the thought of leaving school and never seeing him again was heart breaking.
Mr. Miyamoto had no idea of course. Leo had been very careful to keep it hidden, and even now he only sneaked longing looks when he was sure the teacher wasn't looking. He needn't have worried. The man was thoroughly engrossed in the thick book that lay in his lap. He was nearly always reading, Leo noticed, and it always gave him the perfect opportunity to ogle him.
The rabbit was young, reasonably fresh out of college and around six or seven years older than the turtle. Not only was he drop-dead gorgeous with his downy white fur and deep coral eyes (there was an intriguing scar above one and Leo loved to fantasise about heroic deeds and breath-taking adventures), but Mr. Miyamoto was also the most charming man Leo had ever had the pleasure to meet. He had a smooth voice with an exotic Japanese accent that never failed to allure even the most discerning student. Leo had never really stood a chance.
The young turtle was convinced that if it weren't for the shattering fact that Mr. Miyamoto was his teacher, they'd make such a perfect couple. Leo had always been fascinated by his adoptive father's Japanese heritage, had spent many nights reading ancient texts, poring over their culture and traditions, practicing their martial arts. And then along came this rabbit, born and raised in Japan by a family rich with a history of samurai. It almost sounded like a fairytale.
But this was reality. Mr. Miyamoto would never jeopardise his job by getting involved with a student, and Leo would never ask him to. And besides, even if he would, why would the rabbit choose him? He was nothing special. He was smaller than average, too quiet and prone to dark moods. Mr. Miyamoto would want someone bright and cheerful, like his brother Mikey. No one ever chose Leo.
The turtle sighed and forced his eyes back down to his homework with great difficulty. This could be the last time they were alone together, yet he could do nothing. He probably wasn't brave enough to do any of it anyway, but one of his favourite pastimes was daydreaming about all the ways Mr. Miyamoto could declare his undying love for him and then make furious love to him on the desk. It would never happen in a million years, but it was nice to dream.
His hand scrawled on the paper but instead of the answers to the homework, he entwined their names together in fancy handwriting. It was hopeless really, this infatuation, and he had to get over it before he left school or he would be very hurt. College would be good for him. He could get away from New York and forget all about Usagi Miyamoto.
As if that was even possible.
The bell rang shrill and loud throughout the classroom, startling the rabbit from his book. With a resigned sigh, Leo packed away his things into his battered book bag and crossed the classroom to hand in his hastily completed assignment. Walking down the aisle seemed to take an age when his teacher was smiling jovially with his hand outstretched. Leo blinked away all warped ideas of Mr. Miyamoto in a smart black tuxedo (it would contrast so beautifully with his fur) and offered the paper.
He was struck with the full onslaught of his teacher's scent – that white musk incense mixed with rice wine – and hurried to the door with his cheeks on fire before he could do anything stupid. He'd never thought a smell could be so powerfully tempting before now.
"Leonardo,"
The voice warmed him to the core, just like it always did. He stilled, building up the courage to turn and approach the desk again. Mr. Miyamoto looked calm, and Leo had the maddening urge to reach out and touch those long ears. He'd dreamed of doing it for so long.
He briefly wondered what he'd been called back for, but then Mr. Miyamoto showed his homework, pointing at their entwined names. His face was carefully composed, an eyebrow arched in question. Leo's stomach dropped to his toes, horror filling every inch of him. Stupid! He stammered for a suitable answer, feeling the heat rise to his face. He couldn't even look his teacher in the eye, far too ashamed.
Mr. Miyamoto sighed quietly and put the paper down before slowly and gracefully rising to his feet. Leo braced himself. This was it. This was the gentle but firm rejection he knew he would always get. Maybe this was what he needed to get over the rabbit. Maybe deep down he needed to be told that this fantasy could never happen. He took a deep, steeling breath and looked at his teacher's face.
Without giving him any warning, Mr. Miyamoto leaned and tenderly kissed him on the mouth. Leo's breath caught in his throat in surprise. He wasn't dreaming, this was actually happening! His philosophy teacher, the samurai of his dreams, was actually kissing him! Before he had chance to revel in it, the rabbit had pulled away.
Leo's body reacted by itself. He closed the distance and pressed their mouths together once more, and this time he could begin to process what was happening. Mr. Miyamoto's lips were crazily soft, and there was an adorable three inches height difference. His heart was pounding excitedly in his chest, threatening to break free from his plastron and soar into the sky.
He'd never kissed anyone before, but he figured he must be doing something right when Mr. Miyamoto deepened the gesture. Suddenly it was all tongue and teeth and desperation. Desire incinerated his veins and he had to grip his teacher's arms because his knees threatened to give way. Gasps escaped his mouth before they were swallowed in another hungry kiss. Months of suppressed want came tumbling out of him, taking as much as he could and eager for more.
Finally they had to pull apart for air and Leo stared at his teacher in shock. Mr. Miyamoto simply grinned that charming smile and Leo was reminded of hundreds of fantasies that went just like this. However, in his dreams he was confident and sexy and knew exactly what he wanted. So he did what he thought was the only logical thing to do. He rapidly shoved the entire contents of Mr. Miyamoto's desk, books, papers, pens and all, onto the floor with a loud clatter, ready for their coming throes of passion.
Mr. Miyamoto looked at him like he was insane. The sudden spark of confidence fluttering in his chest quickly died and Leo deflated, grasping at any chance to redeem himself.
"I should...I should clean that up," He stammered in embarrassment.
"You should," Mr. Miyamoto agreed softly, mouth twisting in amusement.
Leo dropped to his knees and clumsily began gathering up the scattered papers, his face tinted scarlet. What an idiot! He could forget any attempts of looking cool because Mr. Miyamoto wasn't going to come anywhere near him now. He refused to look up, glaring hard at the book and not the blue hem of his teacher's kimono. Stupid!
A tender hand cupping his cheek made him freeze. He looked up, astonished, and was stunned by Mr. Miyamoto's handsome, teasing smile. Hi heart began thudding uncontrollably again, drowning out the hitch in his breathing and the awkward squeak of his voice.
"Clean it up later," Mr. Miyamoto purred in his velvet accent, as smooth as you please.
Leo grinned shyly and obediently dumped what he was holding. The rabbit's soothing laugh made every worry vanish into nothingness. Their mouths slotted together once more as if they were always meant to. Outside the classroom, the day continued to go by. Students ran down the halls chattering and laughing. Teachers hurried to their cars and impending freedom.
But inside that little bubble, time for Leo seemed to stand still, as long as the rabbit held him tight in his arms.
The End