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Post by ryan on Oct 9, 2008 19:33:48 GMT 1
Ryan nodded once again, pulling the paper and the book towards him and taking out the quill he wanted to use. Looking at the teacher, he bit his lip again. "Uhm, do you have some ink? I spilled mine all over my bag a while ago, so I usually don't bring ink anywhere anymore." He was rambling a little, noticed it and ducked his head again, blushing.
What if this teacher thought he was coming onto him? What if he was seconds away from being accused of perverting the system? What if, Merlin help him, he wanted to pervert that system? Ryan wasn't a little kid, he could keep his hormones in check, but he wasn't used to dealing with tension and not having some let-out. When he wanted someone, chances were big said person wanted him too, and they were to resolve their sexual frustrations in a healthy way.
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Post by tristramblake on Oct 9, 2008 20:18:40 GMT 1
Almost reflexively, Tristram quirked an eyebrow at the boy in front of him, before remembering his place and lowering it again quickly. He didn’t have any ink? To Triss, that was incomprehensible. It didn’t make any sense to turn up somewhere without the right equipment, how were you supposed to learn then? It made no sense in his mind, but he was already beginning to sink further and further into the world of Arithmancy, where all that metered were numbers and equations and the complex logic of magic. It was getting harder for him to understand anything even vaguely human.
“Erm” He said, attempting to drag himself back to reality “Er, yeah” and reached over to his desk draw the get it. However, it only occurred to him a moment later that his desk draw was now precisely where Ryan was sitting. He’d been so busy trying to block out all thoughts of the boy, to stop his phobias form flaring up, burying himself so deep in the Arithmancy, perhaps as an unconscious safety mechanism. But it had backfired. He was leaning across Ryan, his back inches from the boy’s chest, and he could feel warm breath on his cheek. It made him want to draw back in revulsion, get as far away from the intruding presence, even if, by moving, it was technically he who was doing the intruding. And then as he retraced his hand from the desk draw, grasping the pot of ink, his elbow dipped lower than it should, brushing momentarily against Ryan’s inner thigh.
Tristram sat back upright as fast as he could, and put the ink down on the desk, his heart hammering against his chest after the ordeal. It was a struggle to keep his breathing controlled, e had to clench his stomach muscles to hold it for long enough. If things didn’t get better, he didn’t think he’d make it out of this session alive.
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Post by ryan on Oct 9, 2008 20:26:54 GMT 1
Ryan closed his eyes when Tristram came so close to him. It was all he could do to forget about the tension and about wanting to resolve that tension with some hot, aggressive act. This was a Professor. Not some hot little boy that he could shag without consequences - aside from whiny girlfriends who apparently were a bit put off by their boyfriend being fucked. Then there were those who got off on it, which honestly scared him even more. But he was getting side-tracked.
Tristrams elbow brushed against his thigh and Ryan bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. Swallowing again, he waited for the Professor to remove himself from his personal space. It wasn't that he minded, it was just the fact that he was a hundred percent sure this wasn't happening on purpose. He wasn't being seduced. Unfortunately.
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Post by tristramblake on Oct 13, 2008 1:24:48 GMT 1
Tristram suppressed a shudder, waves of nausea crashing over him. He’d thought he’d been able to do it, act normal, just get the ink pot out like any other teacher would, but he hadn’t. even seconds after the event, the feeling of how close Ryan had been was making him feel sick. He wanted to touch the places on him that had made contact with his student, claw at them, rip them away from himself. Right then, he was wishing he’d taken up Abe’s other offer. At least if he was teaching a class full of children, he wouldn’t want to be tearing his own flesh off.
But he wasn’t in front of a class, he was sat at his desk next to Ryan, who needed his help. He tried to remind himself of that, but by the moment his breath was getting shallower and he could feel his throat contracting. He desperately tired to ground himself, looking at the arithmancy book, trying to submerge himself in the numbers, but it wasn’t working. He couldn’t stop thinking about how close Ryan was, and the parts of them that had touched. Triss’s skin was rising in sickening goose pimples and he was starting to shake.
Suddenly, his stomach gave a spasm and he had to grip onto the side of his desk to stop himself from gagging. He needed to get out of there, before anything disastrous happened. “C-could,” He stammered, keeping his eyes turned towards and bringing a hand up to grasp at his throat “Could you have a go at those exercises?” It was more of a plea than a question, but Tristram didn’t have much choice in the matter. “I’ll be back-ack in a moment.” It might have been the truth, it might have been a lie, he wasn’t sure. As fast as he could whilst still exuding some faint aura of control, Triss got to his feet and left the room, not looking at Ryan once, not even when he turned to shut the door behind him.
The corridor was cooler than his office, a slight breeze blowing in through a high window at one end. Tristram wrapped his arms around himself and moaned slightly, his eyes clenched tight shut. A moment later he was retching, holding himself tighter to try and regain control. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to have a full blown panic attack, and he couldn’t afford that. Trying as hard as he could, Triss took slow, deep breaths and started to pace lightly up and down the corridor, all the while trying to sooth himself and not think about the boy he’d just left in his office.
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Post by ryan on Oct 13, 2008 15:38:37 GMT 1
Ryan was many things, but stupid wasn't one of them. Or so he'd like to think, at least. In all reality, he was prone to interpret things the worst way, maybe as a defense mechanism, maybe because he really thought he was worthless. Regardless of the reason, it was pretty damn obvious what had just happened.
The man, this Professor that had seemed nice enough was physically sickened by him. He'd seen it in the way the other had withdrawn from him, only to go ghostly pale afterwards. Tristram Blake was disgusted by him, and Ryan could only wonder why. Yeah, he wasn't the average boy, he was skinny and pale (though granted, not as much as Professor Blake had just turned) and very openly gay. But it had never seemed to make anyone sick before.
Maybe the man had guessed his thoughts or sensed his emotions somehow. Ryan wrapped his arms around himself, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as the other all but rushed out of the room. It hurt, in a way that he hadn't felt before. There had never been anyone who'd rejected him, and even if there had been, he doubted it would have been so obvious.
It's because I'm a whore, Ryan thought, feeling fingernails dig into his sides from the way he clung to himself. The pain made it so he could at least focus a little, so he wouldn't show this cruel Professor just how much he'd influenced him. It wasn't like he could change what he was anyway. People knew he was easy, they fucked him because he was there, like some sort of toy whenever they needed a boy to play with. And he let them, because even though lust wasn't love, it was at least something.
Wiping angrily at his face, he pulled the Arithmancy book towards him. Professor Blake could go to hell for all he cared. He didn't even know why he'd expected him to be different. No one was ever different. Those that didn't fuck him were repulsed by how easy he was. Either way, nobody ever bothered to love him. Nobody ever bothered to find out who was buried deep within his body.
Ryan nearly snarled at the thought of the man returning. He had no desire whatsoever to be near this man ever again. As soon as this class was over he'd go to see Professor Grey and ask him for another tutor. If not, well fuck them all, he was dropping the subject. Everything was better than sitting in a room with someone who despised him.
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