Chapter 8: Wednesday, September 10th: Lunchtime

Remy was honestly confused when he showed up at his office door and Pietro wasn't already waiting there. Knowing the kid's arrogance and seeming desperation at progressing with this awkward relationship, he had thought he would be greeted with a sharp scolding for taking a hefty five minutes to get from the lab to the office. He unlocked the door, feeling a strange pang of disappointment followed immediately by amusement at the odd feeling, and stepped inside.

Remy's office, like most of the offices in the building, was a somewhat small room with oversized furniture that made it feel terribly cramped. As a result, neither he nor his officemate really cared to spend too much time there as opposed to the teacher's lounge, but he couldn't deny that it was a convenient place to have right now. After all, it wouldn't draw too much attention for a student and teacher to meet during "office hours," and it was unlikely they'd be disturbed even if the door wasn't locked. Hell, Remy had this office for a little over two years now, and he couldn't remember who the other desk even belonged to. There was a little skull on the desk; someone in Biology? Drama? Goth History? Whatever.

He pulled a hot pink insulated lunchbox out from under his desk with a bit of a struggle and sat down to open it. It wasn't extravagant, just some salad he had tossed together with some lump crab meat and a balsamic vinaigrette, but it served pretty well and kept decently without a fridge, so he couldn't really complain.

A few bites in he heard a knock at the door.

"Maximoff? Come in."

"My hands are a little full, Mr. Lebeau, could you get the door?" the muffled voice said on the other side, and Remy shuffled out from behind his desk with confusion. A little sense was made when he opened the door to a huge dimpled smile and two large trays of chili cheese fries with forks sticking out.

"I brought senpai his lunch," Pietro said, pushing past Remy to plop the food down and sit on the other desk. He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the chair behind the desk, and put the closer meal on his lap.

"From what I know, kid, I'm your sensei, not senpai," Remy said, flipping the lock on the door. Pietro raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, and I thought I was supposed to be treating you to a celebratory relationship meal," Pietro said, looking quickly back over to Remy's desk. "The hell is that? Do you not appreciate me slaving over a hot fast food counter to buy you a lunch made with love?"

"You could have told me yesterday if you didn't want me to throw together leftovers," Remy said, reaching to take one of the fries, but Pietro slapped his hand away.

"Nuh uh. You don't appreciate, they're mine now."

Remy leaned against his desk and picked his salad back up. He eyed the boy in amusement as he started to wolf down the certainly-not-kosher snack at speeds as if he was afraid his father would waltz in at any moment.

"If you eat all that you gone get fat," Remy said, pointing his fork at the boy's food, and he shrugged.

"Fast metabolism."

"Is anything about you not fast?" Remy chuckled, taking another bite of lettuce. Pietro looked almost offended, and the insinuation fluttered through the man's brain. He shook his head. "I didn' mean what I see you thinkin' boy. Granted, you're of such an age that-"

"Not cool," Pietro said, just a tad too on guard. Remy quickly finished up his food, pushing the bowl towards the back of the desk.

"I'll drop it then," the teacher said, running a hand through his hair. He studied the boy in front of him, a grin playing on his lips. "It's a damn shame we stuck in this situation, you know. After all, I-"

"-am an old fart and you are an innocent babe, yeah yeah," Pietro said, balling up the paper container and throwing it gracefully into a shared trash can. Before he could grab the second tray sitting further away from him, there was a large hand covering his.

"Actually, I was gone say it's a shame we're stuck in a little room with no room to really get to know each other, like I'm sure you were insinuating yesterday." Remy grinned and Pietro gulped, blood rushing to too many places at once.

"So you decided you're a lot more comfortable with this entire debacle than you were before? Resplendent," Pietro said, a goofy grin forming on his face.

"You turn into an English major when you're stressed, I see." Remy laughed, but picked his hand up away from Pietro respectfully. Without hesitation, Pietro grabbed Remy's hand, putting it on his thigh. Not quite sure what to do next, he leaned forward, kissing his teacher with a nervousness he hadn't had since the seventh grade. Remy seemed to be responding positively, which Pietro still couldn't believe—how begrudging did the man seem about all of this the day before? And yet here he was, a hand running along his upper and inner thigh, another pressing against the back of his head to deepen the kiss.

It was excellent.

Pietro didn't whimper when the kiss was broken; he was too determined not to seem that weak despite the pounding in his heart and the bright flush in his cheeks. So that day in the cooking lab hadn't been a fluke, he was actually managing to get what he had wanted out of the man for god knows how long. It was hard to process the thoughts as he felt the hand on his head glide down his neck, his back, and up under his shirt. With a smooth motion, Remy pulled the fabric up, tucking it into the neckline, and dropped to one knee.

Pietro chewed his lip as he watched his teacher trail kisses down his exposed stomach. The man occasional looked up, black and red eyes seeming to constantly check to make sure that the boy was enjoying himself. Every time Pietro would nod or sigh or gasp, Remy looked back down to what he was doing, sometimes a tiny curve of a smile or the slightest hint of a laugh accompanying the continued touch. He dragged his tongue around Pietro's belly button, then teeth; he let out a small moan as the boy fisted his hair desperately.

As Remy's hand made its way to Pietro's jeans, his heart suddenly jumped. He didn't know what the hell was hitting him, but there was a sudden race of nerves pouring through his chest. He fidgeted slightly and Remy looked back up.

"Mm?" The man ran his fingertips over Pietro's clothed cock, a quiet question. Pietro answered with a small shrug and a whine, trying to shove down the nerves. Satisfied, Remy went back to undoing the boy's jeans and pressing his lips to grey cotton. He could feel his cock twitch under the touch and hissed a bit, wiggling again. It's like it was all too intense, he thought to himself, like every millimeter of skin that was touched had needles scraped against it. He tried to ignore it, because dear god did it feel good to have a mouth wrapping around the shaft of his cock through the soft fabric, but it was simply too much.

He managed to last until Remy pulled down the waistband of his shorts to lick the head of his cock, which made him wince with both phantom pain and the utter desire to not immediately come.

"Wait, hold up, hold up a sec," Pietro stammered, and Remy quickly pulled back.

"Something wrong, cher?"

"It's...I mean..." Pietro didn't have the words to articulate what he was feeling, but Remy nodded and rolled his chair back.

"I understand. A bit too much for right now?" Remy smiled, compassion behind his eyes. "I ain't gone jump on you too fast. We can put this aside for now."

Pietro mumbled a response, pulling his jeans closed over his still somewhat erect cock. He glanced toward Remy, eyes darting towards the bulge in his teacher's slacks, and felt a small pang of guilt.

"Don't know what the hell came over-"

"Is it okay if I touch you?"

Pietro seemed a little shocked by the question, noting that Remy's hand was sitting next to his thigh.

"Yeah?"

With the word, Remy's hand rubbed gently along the top of Pietro's thigh. It was really weirdly comforting, he thought to himself with mild amusement.

"You actin like I'm not a gentleman who can respect a man's boundaries," Remy chuckled. "We gone work this at whatever speed we both feel comfortable with, okay?"

"I'm not exactly known for going slow," Pietro snarked, and he could hear Remy's eyes roll.

"First time for everything," Remy said, his hand raising off Pietro's leg and motioning to the empty chair. "Maybe we should finish our lunch before next period?"

"Yeah, that's cool." Pietro pushed off of Remy's desk and walked around to the chair, picking his fork back up. "And, um...

"Thanks."