this story is dedicated to the people who read every chapter like the good children they are, and leave without a goodbye. thanks a fucking lot assholes. i owe you one ;)
here's my disclaimer
"You haven't been a very good student, Scott." Mr. Sundry scolded. He leaned against his desk, hands in the pockets of his blazer. "Cutting class, starting fights. Now smoking?" He clucked his tongue. Scott kept his head bowed. He crossed his arms angrily. Angry at being caught, mostly. Angry at the guidance counselor for taunting him. "I suppose it comes with being a Mercer."
"I am not a Mercer." Scott said hotly, glancing up. Technically, he was a Mercer. He had been adopted by one Mrs. Evelyn Mercer, a lonely widow who got her kicks taking in troubled cases. Scott was one of them.
A Detroit native, born and bred, he had live with his physically violent, alcoholic father and his string of past-their-prime hooker girlfriends. He was the kind of guy who thought it was funny to put out his cigars on Scott's arm, and maybe starve him for a week or two. Three if he could get away with it. He had no memory of his mother, which suited him just fine. As far as he was concerned, his mother was a coward who had abandoned him to his monster father. He had lived with the violence until he was eleven, and social services stepped in. One too many beers left his father feeling rowdy. He knocked Scott into a wall, slicing his eyebrow open an inch long. The resulting stitches in the ER, a hastily explained bike accident at two in the morning, led to his father's arrest and his placement in a foster home.
From there was a string of whirlwind faces and trouble. Scott followed his father's footsteps closely enough, setting fires in closets and threatening his siblings with knives. A short stint in Juvie, after a botched liquor store robbery, left the social workers with no choice.
He was scheduled for a youth center by the Great Lakes, only fourteen years old, when Evelyn stepped in. She offered him a compromise. If he could control himself, she would allow him to stay with her and her four sons. Bobby, twenty two; Jerry, twenty one; Angel, nineteen; and Jack, sixteen. Scott figured anywhere was better than a detention center. Besides, if he was living with some old lady it would be easier to sneak cigarettes in.
He'd accepted the offer. Seven months of relatively incident free life at the Mercer's, and Evelyn adopted him.
That didn't make him a Mercer.
Apparently, Mr. Sundry disagreed. He drew himself to his full height, an impressive six foot something. Impressive, at least, to Scott, who was only about five four when standing. Besides, right now he was sitting in a chair. Mr. Sundry dwarfed him easily.
"Scott, I have tried to be patient with you." He sighed, crossing to the door and closing it. The room felt stuffy and claustrophobic suddenly. "I was warned of your violent outbursts and your past- experiences. I still agreed to let you enter the school." He sat down in front of Scott again. "I don't know if you're aware, but if I file an appeal with Social Services, regardless of your recent adoption, I can have you sent right back to a youth center." He smiled slightly, looking into the distance and crossing his ankles. "I can even send you to Juvie, if I word it right."
Scott gaped at him. "I- I can try harder. I promise." The Mercers were a lot better than twenty delinquents, he knew that much. He didn't want to go back. He liked Evelyn and her sons, even if he didn't want to be adopted.
Mr. Sundry reached down and touched his cheek. His fingers were cold, and Scott shied away. "You promise you will do better?" He murmured. Scott nodded. "Words are not enough for me. What do I get in return?"
Scott narrowed his eyes. He had a twisting feeling in the pit of his stomach. "What- what do you want?" He asked. The guidance counselor smiled.
"I think you know." He grabbed Scott's palm and brought it down to his zipper. Scott wrenched his hand back.
"I can't do that!" He tried to stand up, but Mr. Sundry pushed him down. "Please, I don't-"
"I think you're forgetting, Scott, that I hold the key to your future. I decide whether you stay here or spend the rest of your miserable life behind bars."
"You can't do that!" Scott cried, jumping to his feet. "No one would believe you. You're a liar." He wanted to leave- now. He wanted to find Jack and make him call Bobby, so they could leave. He would leave. He would go someplace else.
"A PhD is a lot more convincing than a criminal record, Scott." Mr. Sundry said coldly. "You are a lying little brat with no future and no discernible past. Anyone would take my word over yours, even Evelyn Mercer." He curled his fingers around Scott's upper arm and tugged him closer. "Now I get what I want, or I make your life a living Hell."
Scott flushed with shame, bowing his head in submission. "What do you want?" He mumbled.
Mr. Sundry smiled. He led Scott around behind his desk and sat down in his chair. He had a numbing grip on his wrist, his nails digging into the pale flesh easily. Scott hid his discomfort with practiced ease.
"I want you to get on your knees." Scott knelt between the counselor's spread thighs. "Good boy. Now undo my zipper." He struggled with the tiny metal object, his hands shaking. The man's cock sprang out, erect. Scott closed his eyes. "I don't think I need to tell you what to do now." Mr. Sundry snickered.
Scott wanted to bite down. He kept his eyes screwed shut and bobbed his head up and down. He choked back his tears, hating the taste of the man, the way he hardened even more in Scott's mouth. He came with a grunt, like an animal. Scott hunted for a garbage can, but Mr. Sundry grabbed his chin.
"Swallow." He commanded. Scott swallowed, tears burning the back of his eyes. The taste slithered down his throat like a bad memory. "Good boy."
Mr. Sundry turned away to readjust himself, and Scott stayed kneeling on the ground. He wouldn't cry in front of this jerk. He might throw up, but not cry.
"Can I go now?" He asked, his voice soft.
"Yes, you can." Scott jumped to his feet. He headed for the door. "Oh, Scott. One more thing."
Slowly, Scott turned. The guidance counselor put his hands against the door, effectively trapping him. He leaned forward and forced his lips against Scott's, biting down hard enough to draw blood. It welled in Scott's mouth, dripping onto his chin before stopping.
"I want you back in my office every day, before you go to lunch. Understand?" Scott glared at him, lip stinging. "Understand?" Mr. Sundry's hand shot out and grabbed Scott's chin. He nodded, forcing back the urge to whimper at the harsh grip on his face. "Just remember." The man cautioned. "I am the sole owner of your future. Don't screw it up, Scott, or you'll spend the next five years of your life in the custody of the state." He leaned in close. "It'll be like living with daddy all over again."
Scott pulled away, finding the doorknob and stumbling into the hallway. "Right." He muttered, voice cracking. "I promise."
He turned and ran away, heading straight for the bathroom, where he promptly threw up.
so what does everybody think?