Alin Radacanu-Romania
Tsvetan Borisov- Bulgaria
...
So this is a collaboration between myself and GarGoyl, with both of us writing half of this each. They wrote the good bit.
Um, warnings for teacher/student, nsfw things, breath play and slightly underage (depending on where you live). Also warning for terrible puns.
Pretty much some pwp, which this pairing is severely lacking. Has the possibility to be continued, depending on the reception.
So... please don't judge us…
…
Alin trembled as he walked along the corridor, clutching his battered science folder in his hands. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart and this dizzy feeling, but it had little effect. His parents' voices resounded in his head, stern words urging him to do the best- to be perfect- or not bother asking for anything from them again. He had to get top marks in all his subjects, or life at home would become very difficult indeed.
He worked hard at school, and was a bright boy, but there was one subject he struggled in. Of course there was. The universe would never allow him an easy life! He tried his hardest, studying the blasted thing every night, attempting every piece of homework he was given, and even attempting practice papers, but that one subject still confused him to no end.
Chemistry.
Even the word felt sour on his tongue. He couldn't understand Chemistry at all! All the equations and elements confused him, and the different keywords were all jumbled together into his mind to the point where he couldn't tell Ethanol from Manganese. And the experiments weren't fun either. Just put the exact amount of smelly acid in the beaker with some powder for a mediocre reaction. Wow. Amazing. Give him a history or biology book any day! At least in biology you got to cut up an organ or a small animal sometimes, and in history the teacher tended to stick on gory documentaries that he found fascinating. Hell, even maths was more interesting than this drivel!
He finally reached the door he needed, marked 'Mr Borisov', and knocked with a shaking hand. Alin stood back as he waited for an answer. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something about this teacher that unsettled him, some strange pull the man had.
The corridor- and most of the school- was completely deserted; only a few teachers remained this late, shut in their offices marking homework or coursework. Even the cleaners had packed up and gone home.
"Come in," replied Mr Borisov, and Alin complied, pushing the door open and stumbling in.
Mr Borisov's office was messy and dimly-lit, covered in papers and books. The man himself was sat behind his desk, marking a homework sheet. He stopped, putting his pen down and looking at the student curiously.
"Take a seat," he offered, gesturing to the chair in front of him, the other side of the desk. Alin plopped himself down on the hard plastic, smiling nervously.
"How can I help?" Mr Borisov pressed the tips of his fingers together, leaning forward with a polite, but genuine, smile.
"Um, well," Alin tripped over his words as he spoke, but persevered, "I seem to be falling behind in your class…"
"I've noticed, Radacanu." Mr Borisov's smile fell at that.
"But I'm doing something about that! A-and I was wondering if you had time to mark this practice paper," Alin pulled out a battered booklet from his folder.
"Sure, it's not like I have five other classes worth of crap to mark, but I'm sure you're far more special and important than all those other people."
The teacher's blunt answer cut through Alin, and he flinched.
"I'm sorry!" he cried, starting at his hands, which rested on his shaky knees, "it's just I'm under a lot of pressure-"
"Almost everyone is," Mr Borisov raised an eyebrow.
"-And my parents said they'd never give me money for anything again if I fail even one exam!"
"So you want me to pay extra attention to you because you want money?"
"Well…" Alin faltered, "it's not just that! I'll never hear the end of it! They'd take every damn opportunity to remind me of what a failure I am! And I get enough of that already." The teacher sighed, resting his head in his hands and groaning.
"I'm… I'm a little scared of them too," Alin admitted.
"Maybe… you could leave your paper here and I'll mark it over the weekend?" Mr Borisov offered, face softening. He was quite young, for a teacher, and not bad to look at, if he actually did something with his hair. Alin had to admit that he was sometimes distracted by it in class, along with the teacher's smooth, deep voice that just pulled him in. No wonder he was failing the class…
"But the exam's on Monday!" Alin protested; "how will I know what to revise for then?"
There was a pause before Mr Borisov replied. "Fine," he growled, snatching the paper, "I'll mark it if it'll get you out of my office."
"Thank you!" Alin felt like crying.
"Have a caramel while you wait," offered Mr Borisov, pushing a bowl of sweets towards Alin, who grabbed a handful, popping one into his mouth and chewing noisily. He waited.
…
Tsvetan scanned the paper boredly, flicking through the pages hurriedly in his haste to rid himself of this annoying child, though each poorly-answered question grabbed more of his attention, making him wince and squirm. How was it possible to do this badly at a simple test?
Halfway through, he glanced up. Alin was staring at him in horror, mirroring each wince with his own.
"Is it bad?" he asked.
"No, of course…" Tsvetan sighed, "very bad. Awful."
"Oh…" Alin looked down.
"Were you even paying attention in class?"
"Of course!"
"Then why have you stated that humans are calcium-based organisms instead of carbon-based ones?" he questioned, "or the chemical reactions are reversible, when they're obviously not?"
"Well, that was a fifty-fifty guess…"
"Half of these chemical equations aren't even real!" Tsvetan continued, pointing at the scrawl of letters and numbers, "and it seems you've invented your own element! How does it feel to be the man to discover 'Romanium'?"
"I thought it was real…" Alin mumbled, "I… it can't be that bad!"
"It's worse than anything you've handed in so far!"
"…Is that even possible?"
"Apparently," Tsvetan glanced down again.
"But… I can't…" Alin shook his head, clutching the desktop with trembling fingers, "they'll kill me…"
"Oh don't be silly!" scoffed Tsvetan.
"They'll hate me though," Alin broke down into loud sobs, burying his face in his hands, "I can never go home!"
"Sure you can!"
"I'm a failure…" Alin continued his blubbering, "I can't… I need to pass!"
"You're not gonna," Tsvetan shrugged.
"I just need a C!" Alin looked up, staring at him with wide, fearful, eyes, "they'll accept a C!"
"Well, there's nothing I can do."
"I'd do anything to pass," he sobbed, "anything! I'm begging you!"
Tsvetan leaned closer, lips twitching upwards, "anything?"
"Anything!"
He lowered his voice to a whisper; "then study."
"I've studied!" Alin wailed, "I've studied til my brain hurt and then some! It's no good! I don't get your stupid subject!" His face crumpled and he burst into fresh tears, sobbing into his knees. Tsvetan winced at the sound of his sniffles.
"Please calm down," he tried, "I'm sure we'll think of something." He really wanted to kick the boy out of his office, and tell him to stop being a big baby and study, but knew it would be ineffective. He seemed to be beyond reason.
Alin seemed oblivious to the other's words, wailing into the wooden table. Tsvetan groaned, rubbing his face with a hand and using the other to open one of his draws. He glanced down at the green bottle, lying next to a shot glass. He knew he could get in trouble for this, but he needed to calm Alin down somehow, and, as long as the kid kept his mouth shut, no one would need to know. As he pulled the bottle onto the table, his fingers brushed against a tube of clear gel, and he flinched. He'd forgotten he'd stashed his lube in his desk drawer, along with other choice items, where his wife will never find them. Couldn't have her discovering where he went when he said he was 'working late'. He couldn't help straying, spending a large chunk of his time in clubs and hotel rooms with strange men.
Maybe he'd stray tonight.
He glanced back up at Alin and shook his head slightly. No, he couldn't. Not with a student!
A student who would do anything to pass his next test.
Tsvetan gulped, pouring rakia into the little glass, his own hands shaking now, and sliding it over to the boy.
"Here," he said, "drink this and calm down."
Alin glanced up, staring suspiciously at the little drink, "what's that?"
"Some good old fashioned ethanol," replied Tsvetan.
"Oh, I thought it was alcohol." Tsvetan contemplated strangling him. "Is it poisonous?"
"In a way," Tsvetan replied weakly, "its alcohol, idiot! Rakia, to be precise."
"But I'm fifteen!" Alin cried, "I'm too young to drink this!"
"Go on, I won't tell anyone," Tsvetan winked, "and it'll calm you down while we think of something."
"Okay," Alin mumbled, cautiously picking up the glass and downing it all in one go. His face pulled into a grimace, and the boy shuddered, slamming the glass back on the table. "Another!" he cried, and Tsvetan complied.
There was that evil thought again, about how easy it would be to talk Alin into… Tsvetan gulped, running his hand through his hair. The boy said he'd do anything, so why not take advantage of that? Alin was young, and beautiful, with his red, innocent eyes and long hair. His frame was small and petite, with long lashes and rosy lips, parted slightly as he recovered from his second drink. Tsvetan fiddled with his collar. He wanted to ruin those good looks, to claim Alin as his own. Have him under him, moaning and screaming, that perfect body bare and hot and all his own. He wondered what the boy's unusual teeth were capable of doing, and what he'd be capable of doing to Alin. He hoped the kid wasn't planning on walking home.
The more he thought of it, the more he wanted to go for it. He wasn't sure if Alin would be desperate enough to let him have his way when the kid was sober, but now he'd had a few drinks…
"Fancy another?" he asked, holding the bottle up. Alin nodded, hiccupping slightly, and held the glass out for a refill.
"So, err," Tsvetan began, slowly as his desires won over his morals, "I might just be able to give you your C. Your parents will be none the wiser about it…"
"Really?" Alin whispered, voice slurred slightly, "how?"
Tsvetan took a gulp from the bottle, ignoring Alin's whines. "Don't worry," he began, "there's still plenty for you." He refilled Alin's glass, and leaned in closer. "And plenty of something else you can give me."
"Oh? What?" Alin looked at him curiously, "cause you can have anything you want. Money? Extra homework? You can have my bike if you like! Got a kid of your own who'd want it?"
"Er, no," Tsvetan glanced down at the framed photograph of his family, smiling next to him on the desk, and picked it up, replacing it facing down. Alin didn't notice.
"Well what do you want?" Alin's brows knotted together; "you're not just doing this for gratis, are you?"
"Of course not," Tsvetan stood up, walking around the desk to the boy and resting his hand on his, as if he were afraid the kid would try to run. With his other hand, he cupped Alin's jaw, forcing his head up. "I want you."
"You want me to do what?" Alin scoffed, giggling.
"No, I want you, or more specifically, your body."
"Oh… you're joking, aren't you?" Alin hiccupped, "didn't know chemistry teachers had a sense of humour!"
"Oh no, I'm deadly serious on this," Tsvetan leaned closer to kiss him, but Alin pulled away.
"No," he mumbled, "I'm not… I'm not that desperate, old man!"
"I'm thirty!" Tsvetan cried.
"Still… I don't want to do what you're implying…" Alin squirmed, "I won't become part of some sick… I don't know! But I'm not…"
"Alin Radacanu, do you want to pass your exam?" hissed Tsvetan, fingernails digging into the boy's hand. Alin gave a small cry.
"Yes, but…"
"Think of your parents! Do you want to disappoint them?"
Alin hissed, blinking back tears, "no, sir."
"Then just go along with this." Alin nodded, and Tsvetan kissed him, hand still clamped under his jaw. Alin didn't respond to the kiss, and Tsvetan felt wet tears on the other's cheek, but ignored them, too busy running his lips over the other's soft mouth, nibbling at Alin's lower lip, flicking his tongue over his mouth and trying to gain entry. But to no avail. Alin still wasn't loosening up. Well, he had other ways of making him talk.
He broke away, grabbing both the boy's hands and leading him to the other side of the desk, in case anyone walked in and saw them, though there was probably no one left in the building except for the teacher and student.
"On your knees," Tsvetan forced Alin into a kneeling position and opened the drawer.
As he took his time examining the contents, it occurred to Tsvetan that making things rough wasn't going to help much. It would have been much better if Alin enjoyed it as well. Aside from the exam mark, if the boy enjoyed their little experiment it would have been a further incentive to keep his mouth shut and maybe… if this went to his satisfaction, even repeat it sometimes? Now that he thought of it, he could recall noticing the boy's stolen glances in his direction during classes every now and then. Perhaps that was the reason why he couldn't focus at all on chemistry, despite having top marks in every other subject. With slow movements, the young teacher walked over and carefully locked the door of his office – he wouldn't take any unnecessary risks – before returning and kneeling next to his student, behind the desk. Alin was sobbing quietly, clutching the front of his jacket with both hands.
"Alin, listen to me," Tsvetan murmured gently, pulling a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at the student's moist cheeks. "There's no need to lose any more salt and protein-based hormones over this small matter when, in fact, we both know… that you want it."
The student scowled and gulped, raising his head wide-eyed and looked like he was about to say something, but instead he only licked his lips, nervously, in a manner which only caused the teacher's blood to run faster. "Mr. Borisov, I-"
"You tell me I'm an old man, but you're lying," the young teacher insisted, thumb brushing over the smooth cheekbone, glancing deep into Alin's ruby eyes, now bright from tears and all the more charming. The boy's eyes wandered worriedly to the open drawer and its contents, but Tsvetan slammed it shut. He let out a loud gasp when the teacher's lips attacked his throat without warning.
"Wait, Mr. Borisov… W-what if-…someone-" Alin moaned, his fingers fisting into his teacher's shirt as he half tried to push the man away.
"Don't worry, no one will know anything, I promise," Tsvetan soothed before capturing the boy's mouth once more and this time his tongue was finally allowed to slip inside, exploring and dominating. Numb with alcohol and already panting in a mixture of fear and excitement, Alin closed his eyes, abandoning himself to his teacher's touches. One hand tangled into the boy's soft hair to keep him still, Tsvetan used the other to hastily unbutton his jacket and clumsily slide if off his shoulders. He then stood up, pulling the boy with him.
"Let's have a little chemistry lesson, shall we? To begin with," the young teacher swept all the book and papers, together with the shot glass and the empty rakia bottle, off the desk in one hasty move of his arm. "Chemistry students do it on the table periodically."
He would have liked his student to put some effort into this, maybe put that beautiful mouth of his to work. But considering the state he was currently in as well as his likely lack of experience (chemistry wasn't the only thing he was clueless about, darn!), this would have to do. Alin looked completely confused – and not just because of the liquor – but still, with a few more kisses and gentle caresses Tsvetan coaxed him to lie down onto the hard surface. After that he took a few moments to just stare, taking in the boy's figure as if to commit each detail to memory.
"Did you know you are full of Beryllium, Gold, and Titanium?" Tsvetan chuckled, but immediately rolled his eyes at his student's puzzled expression. "Because you are Be-Au-Ti-Ful… And now, to get a first reaction…" Taking advantage of the fact that Alin's eyes were momentarily closed, the teacher pawed under his desk and retrieved his pointing stick - the one he used sometimes in class to trace formulas and which the students called 'Herr Stick' for some incomprehensible reason. He used the sharp tipped utensil to lift up the hem of the boy's t-shirt, gradually exposing his stomach. He couldn't help licking his lips at the sight of the student's smooth, flawless skin.
Despite his alcohol-clouded brain, Alin was still pretty much mortified of what they were about to do, despite the fact that, in reality, the fear of his parents was far worse than anything Mr. Borisov could think of doing to him. So he really had no choice but to go along with it and- His train of thought was cut short and he closed his eyes tightly when something pricked at his skin, not enough to be painful but quite teasing. Once, twice, again and again until he lost count of the times the thin, flexible rod had touched his stomach and his sides and it began to hurt.
"Mr. Borisov… p-please…" he sniffed, crushing new tears under his closed eyelids. Sucking in a sharp breath, Alin willed himself to relax as he felt the weight of a body over his. Tsvetan's thumb brushed over his lower lip teasingly, before prying his mouth open. Alin widened his jaw as much as he could to accommodate the wonderful intrusion, now feeling confident enough to kiss back and fingers clutching at the front of his teacher's shirt, unsuccessfully trying to unbutton it. In response, the chemistry teacher broke away from his mouth.
"How about we get rid of this?" he suggested slyly and in one motion the boy's t-shirt was pulled up and over his head, then tossed away to join the incredible mess on the floor. Then Tsvetan resumed the kiss, slowly beginning to grind his hips against Alin's while he fiddled with his own shirt. Impatient fingers tore wildly as he struggled to free himself of his tie and shirt and a couple of buttons were sent flying in the process.
Alin couldn't help relishing in the feeling of the teacher's rather strong, unexpectedly muscular torso now bare on top of his, skin on skin. Chewing on his bottom lip, he turned his head to the side, exposing his throat to the other's hungry ministrations, blushing as pressure began building slowly in his own body. The teacher's large, warm hands slid down the small chest, thumbs rubbing the soft nipples teasingly as he continued to lick and suck at the boy's sensitive pulse point. The pale, soft skin was the kind of rare treat he'd been yearning to try his teeth on for a while now and he bit down, eliciting a loud gasp from his student.
"Now this is called… an… exothermic reaction…" Tsvetan explained between nibbles down the boy's torso, occasionally biting hard enough to leave a bruise.
"A-ahhh, ow! W-what is?"
"Mmm… being so hot…"
Continuing to kiss further down his student's stomach, the teacher reached and opened the top drawer and pawed blindly inside. His fingers searched feverishly after the bottle of lube as he hooked Alin's leg over his hip to bring him closer. Somehow during the frantic movement the pair got dangerously close to the edge of the desk and a second after Tsvetan had eventually managed to grab the object he was seeking they both tumbled off it and onto the floor, the pile of books and papers doing very little to amortize the impact. Quite on the contrary, the young teacher observed fleetingly as he landed on his back with Alin on top of him, a thick compendium digging painfully into his backside. With a huff of discomfort he pulled it from under him and tossed it aside, grateful that at least the rakia bottle and the shot glass had fortunately rolled further away.
"I have to say… since you barely study at my subject, I won't go easy on you…" Tsvetan warned with a chuckle, steadying the boy in his lap as he sat up.
"B-but I study…" Alin stuttered defensively, his cheeks deliciously flustered and his strawberry blond hair looking tousled and incredibly sexy.
"Yeah? Show me."
The student's nails dug into Tsvetan's bare shoulders as he rolled his hips, leaning down to briefly press his lips against the teacher's while blindly fumbling with the man's zipper. His dainty fingers managed to free the other's already throbbing need and he scooted down his body, looking uncertain.
Tsvetan let his head fall back, his eyes half-lidded, with a pleased moan as Alin's shy lips eventually closed around him. His fingers instinctively found purchase in the boy's hair as the student continued to experiment, recklessly toying with his ever growing desire. Only too soon that lovely mouth released him and returned to his lips, the boy resuming to grind his clothed groin against his. But this fruitless teasing was obviously getting them nowhere and Tsvetan took the hint that his student was clueless as to how to handle things next. Impatiently, he pushed the boy off and under him and, after a bit of effort, managed to free both of them of the remainder of their clothing.
"And now… it's time for the beaker and stirring rod part…"
A chuckle escaped Tsvetan as he reached down, spreading his student's thighs open and soon Alin's breath hitched in his throat when something like a cold, slippery finger covered in cold gel prodded his entrance. His own fingers clung helplessly to the young teacher's biceps as he patiently endured the peculiar intrusion, stifling his moans. He knew beforehand that there would be pain involved, but when it eventually came it wasn't half as bad as he'd expected. It was bad enough though, that hot rod of flesh claiming his insides with a forceful, ripping motion. It got better, especially after Tsvetan leaned in and captured his mouth again, in the same reaching down between their bodies to take care of his own 'problem'.
"Ahh… hahh-harder!" the boy begged, "Please, I-I need-"
Tsvetan grinned into the kiss – no, not yet, there was one more thing he wanted to try. Momentarily slowing his movements, he pushed away a bit and his nimble fingers sneaked towards Alin's throat, deftly pressing down and gradually increasing pressure onto his airways. The boy panted, struggling for air, fingers digging feebly into his arm.
"P-please, Mr. Borisov, I-I need…"
Tsvetan's raised an eyebrow questioningly. "What do you need, hmmm? Say it."
"I-I can't… need to… come…"
"Anything else?"
"A-air…"
Tsvetan tsked, shaking his head. "What's that again?"
"O-oxygen…"
"That's a good boy," the teacher praised, finally allowing Alin to draw a full breath. A few more thrusts later he reached his peak with a loud moan, very soon followed by Tsvetan, who collapsed on top of his student's panting, sweaty body. Lifting his head a bit, the teacher noticed there was a nasty bruise on the side of the boy's neck. Perfect. Sighing in satisfaction, he reached up and ruffled Alin's hair.
"Might give you a B after all…"