Remy glanced at the clock on the wall and frowned. He had finished with the standard grade home ec class a good ten minutes ago, and that kid still was nowhere to be found.

It was a Friday. He should be already in his car, maybe driving to the city, having a nice night out, gamble a little, drink a little, maybe pick a fight or pick up a girl or two. A man of his talents had no business waiting around for his boss' , he supposed, it was worthwhile; why else become a teacher than to help out kids and improve their lives above his own fun?

Damn, was he getting old.

It was about then that Pietro walked into the classroom, giving a little wave. The little...

"Hey there Mr. LeBeau I hope I didn't make you wait too long," he said without a breath.

"'Nuff that I'm tempted to make you come here again on Monday. Sit."

"I'd rather stand to be honest, sir," Pietro said, leaning against the demonstration table at the front of the classroom and jittering his foot. "Sitting makes me antsy. Side effect of the condition or whatever."

Remy nodded, willing to let the indignation pass for the sake of keeping things as smooth as possible. Besides, for all he knew the kid wasn't lying; mutations were known to cause all sorts of issues, especially in young people who hadn't quite managed to understand themselves and their powers yet.

"Anyway. I've been talking with your other teachers, including your father..." An audible groan. Remy coughed and continued. "And you just don't seem to be on track with any of your courses. This don't have to be a punishment, boy. I'm here to help you."

"Yeah, yeah. You gave me the spiel yesterday when you sentenced me to stay back alone with you on a Friday. I know, I know." Pietro twirled a strand of hair on his finger with tangible boredom.

"Mr. Maximoff," Remy said, crossing his arms, "I don't want to make this a problem. I'm just concerned about your progress."

"Yeah, well, you have no need to be."

"As your teacher, I think I rightly do, Pietro." He leaned against the wall. "I just want to make sure that you're really getting everything out of your life that you're being offered. You're young, have opportunities..."

"Really, Mr. LeBeau, is this all necessary?" Pietro asked, jumping up on the demonstration table and kicking his legs. "I mean really. What's the good of putting me in detention? It's not like just making me sit around is going to make me a better cook; hell, I don't want to be a cook, there's no point to it, and don't give me another detention for saying that, I just won't show up, and you won't be able to make me because I'm sure that Erik would feel fine making up for fourteen years of child abandonment for having one teacher sacked for harassing his kid."

Remy simply stared at the boy with dark disgust at his run-on sentence.

"Besides," Pietro said, flipping about so he was lying on the table, stomach pressed against the counter, "can't I just do some extra credit or something?" He laughed a bit to himself. "Ahaha, extra credit. Oh, Mr. LeBeau, whatever could I do to get my grades up, please? I'll do things your girlfriend won't do so I can get that A." He rolled onto his back with a smirk, pulling up his Suzi Quatro t-shirt to show off his stomach. "I'll do anything, mistah."

Remy rolled his eyes and was about to tell the boy off when he popped up, tugging at the teacher's mauve tie until their faces were an inch apart.

"Anything."

Now, something took over that man. He had no idea what was going through his head that made him think it was a good idea, as it was one of the most terrible, irresponsible, reprehensible things he could possibly do as a man in power, yet Remy found himself leaning forward and locking lips with a pale-haired boy half his age. He pulled away from the boy quickly, putting his hands on Pietro's shoulders and preparing himself to apologize profusely and beg for word not to leak of what had just happened.

He found himself surprised by the expression on Pietro's face. It wasn't one of the horror he was expecting. The kid honestly looked...needy? Desperate somehow? It was an uncomfortable look, one that Remy only saw when he was putting a girl far too inebriated for her own good in a cab to her apartment rather than accepting her invitation into a bathroom stall. Still, this sober teenage boy was staring at him with an expression of utter need for touch, for some belief in affection being shown to him. It made Remy's heart ache somewhat to see him like this. A part of him almost wanted to just hug him now; he had a feeling the kid really hadn't gotten hugged enough as a child.

Before he could do anything though, there were arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him heavily on top of the desk as Pietro crushed their lips together. He was stronger than he looked, Remy had to give him that. He wasn't exactly a bad kisser; maybe a little rough around the edges, but Remy could tell the kid had probably been doing this for a fair amount of time.

Shit. He should not be thinking that. He should be getting out of there, shoving the kid's detention at someone else, drinking at home far away from any little German boys.

Instead he let Pietro expertly shove his tongue inside his mouth, grabbed the boy's shaggy hair in his hand, pressed his hand harder against his shoulder. Pietro moaned into his mouth, seemingly enjoying it from how the boy's hands were undoing Remy's trousers faster than he could say no.

He still had the decency to pull away then, an unexpected whimper coming from the teenager's throat.

"No, ch...Pietro. That's not…"

"Mr. LeBeau, please." The plea seemed genuine, accompanied by Pietro chewing his bottom lip and his brows furrowing hard. Every part of Remy's mind was screaming different commands at him. On the one hand, this was his student. Even if it weren't for the fact he hadn't fucked an eighteen year old in the past ten years, there was the simple fact that he was his teacher. An adult that the students, much like this one, should look up to and trust. But god, the way he fidgeted and clung to the fabric of his brown sport coat, that bright pink flush lighting up pale skin...

He would definitely need to go to confession later.

He found himself rationalizing as he let out a defeated sigh and pulled himself back down over the boy, kissing him back ferociously. Maybe this is what he needed. Maybe he needed human contact from a trusted adult. He would never tell Erik to his face, but he knew that the absence of a father could put a hideous hole in someone's heart.

Ew. No. Backpedal those thoughts.

It wasn't hard for him to wipe the thoughts away as Pietro pushed him back off before ripping off that terrible tee and throwing it on the stove top. Far from hygienic, but there was no way that Remy would complain, not with the boy grabbing his wrist and pushing his hand directly against the boy's crotch.

Pietro licked his lips, using his teacher's hand to rub through the fabric of his jeans before letting the man's wrist go. Back to getting those disgusting khakis off of him. Khakis. For a teacher as hot as LeBeau, he would have thought the man would dress it down a little, not look so stereotypically...teacher...y. Fuck. There were no words really. Just LeBeau really knowing how to get a rise out of a guy.

Pietro's hips rocked up into Remy's hand, wiggling his white brows at the teacher when they made brief eye contact. Those black and red eyes of his looked so torn. It really just made Pietro giddy to see a grown man reacting like that to him.

Remy found himself pulling down the boy's jeans like his hands had a mind of their own. His breaths were already growing heavy with longing a his eyes darted around Pietro's hips. He had already been able to tell from the feel of it, but the sight of the boy's cock pressing needily against the tight fabric of red-and-yellow briefs made his own trousers seem overly tight. Relief came quickly in the form of Pietro whipping off the man's belt and tossing it to the side, shoving his teacher's trousers and boxers to mid-thigh in a fluid motion.

"Damn, Mr. LeBeau, you are happy to-" Pietro was shut up by overly-rough lips against his, teeth nipping at the corner of his mouth. He moaned and grabbed at the desk with one hand, pulling the teacher's hips towards his own with the other. As soon as their mouths parted, his eyes started flickering between Remy's face, his hand, and their cocks, as if his mind was running too fast to form verbal language. Remy gulped and nodded. Legally, he figured, there was no going back from what was happening now, so he may as well. Not taking his eyes off of his student, he groped blindly around the counter until he managed to find a small bottle of olive oil. A part of him admired the irony that the budget decided to spring for Extra Virgin.

Pouring a little into his hand, his face got serious.

"As your PSE teacher, I have to say this is not the best optio-"

"Shut up and do it, Mr. LeBeau," Pietro growled, his hips jolting up violently. Remy chuckled, daring to lean forward to whisper in the boy's ear.

"Now, cher," he said, putting down the bottle and hooking his thumb in the boy's waistband, "wouldn't it be good to listen to your teacher?" He could feel Pietro shiver under him, practically vibrating. He grinned, wrapping his wet hand around their cocks and slowly sliding his hand up their lengths.

"That's a good boy," he whispered, pulling back a little so he could look at Pietro again, letting the panting, sweaty, youthful form fill his view and burn into his mind. Damn, it felt good, having him whimpering there, their bodies so close. He found himself close to laughing again as he saw Pietro trying to claw at the wood table top, trying desperately to grab onto something as he rocked his hips roughly into Remy's hand. The man took it as a sign to move his hand faster, letting his own vision start to cloud with the pleasure of heat and friction.

Barely a few pumps in, Pietro's eyes squeezed shut and he let out a high-pitched moan. Remy could feel the boy's cock twitch against his as a string of cum shot out, coating a few of his fingers. Remy had to bite his lip to avoid damaging fragile young self esteem with a comment on how "fast" he was.

His avoidance turned out to be unneccesary, though, as before he would have had the chance to say anything, Pietro was sitting up halfway on the counter, balancing himself with his left arm as he pushed Remy's hand off his cock and replaced it with his own. Looking straight into his teacher's eyes, he started stroking fast, smiling as well as he could while still panting desperately. It wasn't long before Remy was pulling their mouths together again, grunting softly as he came on Pietro's stomach.

He pulled away slowly, eyes half lidded, and wiped the mess off with his clean hand. He thought about apologizing for it, but the swirling mix of afterglow and guilt kept him silent. Instead, he simply turned to the sink to rinse off his hands.

Pietro hopped off the counter, swearing under his breath as he tried to catch himself on weak knees. Remy chuckled a little as the kid blinked, trying to reorient himself. Finally, he seemed capable of grabbing his discarded clothes and properly standing upright.

"...So can we say that...the whole row-uks thing is over with?" Pietro said, slipping his shirt back on over his head. Remy zipped up his trousers, brow furrowed.

"The what?"

"The row-uks I fucked up. Can we like, nix the F?"

"...The roux."

"Yeah, that."

Pietro apparently took Remy's dumbfounded stare as a yes, as he clicked his tongue with a grin and a pair of finger guns. The last thing Remy heard as a blur appeared in his vision was a doppler-fading "Thanks, Mr. LeBeau!"

This was shit.