Title: Teach Me

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Etc.

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Faith teaches a very valuable lesson to an apt pupil

This may strike some people as wrong, but hell if GH can hint at it, I surely can run with it.

Teach Me

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He was frightened. She knew he would be. They all were at first. She's the devil you know. The one who tempted and teased until she got what she wanted.

Desire, a strong heavy-handed need built in his body, coursing through his blood with razor sharp awareness.

He flinched when she touched him. Drawing a finger down his chest, she laughed. She told him to relax, her voice came out breathy. A strange gentleness replaced those blood-red nails that had scraped down his back earlier. She examined him, watched his reaction as she went.

Smooth, baby powder skin. The hint of puberty still crawling its way onto his body in soft tufts of fine golden hair. She found it sweet-innocent-though, she'd never cop to that fact.

She was everything wanton. Forbidden fantasies of school teachers rushed from the back of his mind; the leggy blonde, Mrs. Radenmire from third grade and the smell of rose water; Mrs. Morris the supply art teacher from fifth with the voluptuous breasts, and reaching far back; Ms. Pepper, the virgin bible studies leader all the way back when he was five.

And now this. Faith Roscoe, teacher of all things sex. She epitomized it. Her mouth dripped of unbridled passion. Her eyes sung of wild nights of hot-hard pleasure. Her hands danced with cherry scented balm, weaving through naked skin like a true vixen. She'd broken in a few boys, just like him, in her life.

She was a teacher. The lesson would be rough, but slow. She would drag it out. Tormenting. Tantalizing. Treating. Until he broke. Until there were no qualms about high-school girls that would get their feelings hurt. His body would be blistering, aflame with want and she'd push him farther. Farther than he even knew he could go.

He'd understand what she was doing for him. That she was helping him. Showing him how to touch a woman. How to get the reactions he wanted. How to satisfy without nervous fumbling and boyish innocence.

And if he was a good pupil, she'd let him come.

Her eyes, he hadn't realized before, were feline. There was something ferocious, feral and a tiny bit primal hidden behind long lashes and a gentle curve of skin. The hellcat in her worked like a timebomb. She had to have it when she wanted it, like she was in heat. It wasn't an inhuman reaction, just something a little more savage than the rest of her foes.

The yellow seeped in through the blinds and he wondered oddly how long she would let the lesson go on. How far would she take it and how far would he let her. All the way. The thought sent tingles of awareness and chilling spikes of pain through his body, colliding into his groin. He began to burn for her. Torrid, red-hot need exploded inside him, waking him from a long angst-filled slumber in the halls of adolescence.

'The Graduate', 'Summer of 42,' his brain hummed. Movies that appealed to his situation. Don't back down, he screamed at his teenage heart that begged him to remember the precious girl he'd worked so hard to get the honour of kissing. Then he took another look at Faith, her hips sashaying with the drop of a black dress only to reveal silky, lacy things he'd only ever seen in catalogues-never this close and never on a real, live woman and she was all woman-and he wedged down the guilt.

Thoughts of Georgie left him. He couldn't think about it. This wasn't about her now, but it would be. One day he'd put his lessons to good use.

He tested the waters, boldly pressing a hand to the curve of her breast. She smiled and encouraged him. 'Yes, that's it,' she praised.

The room felt sweltering, a sheen of sweat marred his baby-fat cheeks. He seemed to be the only one feeling the heat, because Faith remained, as always, calm and cool. Her naked white skin-inches and inches of perfect skin-nagged at him. Cursed him. Damned him.

He let her guide his hands to all the places he'd never discovered on a woman before. It was ecstasy and it was hell. Fire and white light. Ache and power.

Sensations, new and old fuse together and it was too much. She was too much. But she wouldn't let him fail. No, she made him be the man he'd always wanted. She ripped the response she wanted from him. She tore it from his body, bending and twisting until he gave her what she needed.

He wasn't frightened anymore. She knew he wouldn't be. She's the devil you know. The one who tempted and teased until she got what she wanted.