Slowly, the tall blonde walked down the aisle of desks, from the back row to the front, head down, dragging his feet so it made this scuffing noise. Everyone in the classroom was quiet, making the walk seem a lot longer than it usually was. He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his faded jeans, held loosely up by a belt he was forced to wear, due to school code. Before him, a foot shot out in order to trip him. He walked right into the leg, but instead of tripping, kicked him in the shin, slyly, and the Italian grimaced, pulling his leg back under his desk, swearing under his breath, but still loud enough for Alfred to hear. He laughed lightly, and continued this horrid walk.

When he finally reached the front of the room, his Literature teacher stood behind his large oak desk, with this look on his face. A mixture of anger and disappointment, green eyes saddened a bit when he saw Al didn't really give a fuck. The teacher stuck his left hand out, whereas his right was holding his place in the little leather book he was reading aloud from. Alfred sighed, groaned, and pulled a red and white striped straw from the pocket of his jeans, one he had kept from lunch earlier today. He placed it in the teacher's hand, and in the reply the teacher nodded, short blonde hair swaying slightly. Out of his hair tumbled a little piece of wadded up paper, still wet, followed by a look, and a snicker from the teen.

"You will get this after class." The shorter man said, placing the straw down on his desk and throwing the spit wad into the trashcan located underneath his desk.

"Shove it up your ass." Alfred muttered under his breath, unnoticed by the teacher. He pointed off into the distance, behind him, with one swift motion. "Chair." He said, flatly.

The chair was actually a stool, but they all called it the Chair. The Dunce Chair, to be exact. It was a three-legged stool, one a little shorter than the rest, so a Science book was propped underneath is to steady it. There was also a large white hat that read "Dunce" in large red letters, but that was optional. Alfred picked the hat up, gingerly, knowing the teacher was watching his every move, and set it down on the floor next to him. He plopped himself down on the stool, put his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands.

He could still feel his teacher staring holes in the back of his head. He sighed loudly, loud enough the teacher finally gave up, deciding he wasn't going to pull any funny business, and opened his book back up.

"O, Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou, Romeo?" He read, putting on this feminine voice. Not a funny once, like uber girly, but realistic. As if Juliet was actually here, crying out her lover's name. He continued on with his book, putting on these voices. He even did a good job hiding his thick English accent.

Alfred never turned around. He wasn't supposed to. Otherwise he'd get yelled at, and sent to the Principal's office for the second time this week. He stared off at the corner where the walls met. He continued staring, even though his eyelids were growing... heavy...

Suddenly, there was a scream and a thud, and he jolted awake.

He opened to the sound of explosive laughter, and found himself staring at the ceiling, instead of the corner of the room, with the pen marks and erotic sketches.

"Mr. Jones..." The teacher said, walking over placing his feet between Alfred's head. "Have a nice nap?"


"Nah." He said, looking his teacher in the eyes, trying not to crack a smile. "Sometime kept talking." This last statement was said loudly, so the whole class could hear him and laugh. In which they did.

The blonde opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the loud class bell, ending class and the school day. "Class dismissed!" He yelled over his shoulder to the loud bundle of teenagers making their way down the aisles and out to the door.

"Except." He placed his foot on Alfred's shoulder, pressing down on lightly, but hard enough to let him know he met business. "Except for you, Mr. Jones." The class left, talking about the weekend and how they were happy there wasn't school tomorrow.

Al cleared his throat, and Mr. Kirkland removed his foot, stepping aside so Alfred could get up, brushing off the back of his jeans. He extended his arms and stretched with a loud yawn. He went over and stood by one of the desks in the front row, watching all his peers walk past.

Some mouthed "Good luck", some gave a hopeful smile, and the somewhat tall Spanish guy kicked him in the back of his knees as he passed, the Italian on his side smirking and sticking his tongue out.

Mr. Kirkland was the caboose of the herd, stopping at the door and waving good-bye to all the students who passed his door on their way home for a two-day break.

"Pull up a chair, Mr. Jones." Rotating his head lightly, he called out over his shoulder. He did just that, pulling a chair from first row and dragging it, setting it down, backwards. Plopping himself down with a sigh, grabbed the head of the chair, rocking himself back and forth.

He stopped when he heard a loud click, and suddenly there was no noise, but Alfred's breathing and the click on his teacher's heels on the hardwood.

"Mr. Jones..." He repeated, letting his voice trail off. Propping his elbows up on the wooden desk, he interlocked his fingers and glaring at Alfred behind it. He was wearing a white button down shirt, nice and crisp, with a tan sweater vest, little Union Jack sewed over his heart. He also was wearing one of those brown-ish plaid jackets that Professors always wore, the ones with the patches on the elbow. Maybe for when they have talks like this, elbows up on the table. He also had this look in his bright green eyes, which were narrowed down and peering into Alfred's giant baby blues. The whole case scenario reminded him of when he had to go to the Principal's office just the other day for starting a food fight; The tall, bleach blonde German of a Principal had been in the same pose, but he hadn't been quiet. He had been yelling to whole time, putting Alfred a such a bad mood he punched a kid off the street asking if he was okay. The only reason he had gotten yelled at was because he dumped his carton of chocolate milk over that Italian kid's head, the one who tried to trip him up earlier. But, hey, he deserved it.

"Mr. Jones, are you listening to me?" Oh, shit.

"I, uh, yes, totally." Alfred stood up and spun his chair around on one leg so he was actually facing Mr. Kirkland, with his legs closed.

"What did I just say?"

"'What did I just say?' Quoted exactly." He perked, fake English accent in his voice and he thunked his two heavy sneakers on the the table, tipping his chair back lightly so he wouldn't fall again. His teacher sighed, though smiling lightly at Alfred's humor. He had learned at the beginning of the year his teacher sucked at hiding expressions, especially in those huge eyes of his.

"I was talking about how you should know better than this, and I know you do. You're smarter than this, Alfred."

"Yeah, that's what my other teachers said." This was his 3rd high school, even though he was nineteen (He had failed a grade), and if he was kicked out, it was Boot Camp. Which he would most likely screw up somehow. There's a way, and Alfred F. Jones will most likely find it.

"I'm serious, Mr. Jones."

"So am I."

Another loud sigh, and Mr. Kirkland removed his arms off the table, one to his temples and the other tapping a pen he grabbed against his desk.

After a long, awkward silence, Alfred spoke.

"Listen, Brit Tits." He dropped his chair back on all four legs with a sudden jolt, removing his shoes and assuming the same position his teacher was just in; Elbows up, fingers interlocked, chin resting on his hands. But instead of that serious look, he smiled, blue eyes sparkling. His teacher stopped tapping, looking up, slightly taken back by that nickname.

"I don't really care about this. Thanks, but no thanks." Alfred continued. "You may be my teacher, but you're not in control of my life, just the last hour of my day, 'kay, you old shit?" He smiled sarcastically.

"Listen." Mr. Kirkland said, clearing his throat and setting the pen aside, crossing his legs, placing his hands in his lap. "Sticks and stones may break my bones..."

"But chains and whips excite me." Alfred interjected, smiling deviously with a sing-songy voice, tipping his chair back again.

Have you ever not studied for a test, but yet somehow still gotten an A+, and someone jokes 'Oh, he must've cheated!', and you get this panicked look in your bright green eyes, the ones which you can't hide expressions, ones that scream "I DID CHEAT" and you laugh nervously. That's the exact same look this man got as soon as Alfred sang that.

"Oh. My. GOD." Alfred exclaimed, slamming his hands on the table and standing up. "OHMYGOD!" He yelled again, smiling from ear to ear with those pearls he called teeth. "You... no. You... really? No, no, I... WHAT?" He turned around and paced, laughing and freaking out about this newfound discovery.

Mr. Kirkland just sat, head in his hands as he turned a bright red, swearing at himself not even under his breath, but aloud. Alfred suddenly paused, glancing up dramatically. He turned his head and face his teacher, emotionless and serious.

Mr. Kirkland thought he was going to say something serious or witty, despite his previous behavior.

He was wrong.

Alfred turned his head towards him, expressionless, and stared at him for a minute. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead laughed. And kept laughing. Laughed until his face turned red and he had to balance himself on the chair. He spun on his heel, swaying a little due to lack of breath, and proceeded running up and down the aisles, screaming "S AND M! S AND M!" Repeatedly, until on about his 6th lap, Mr. Kirkland took the length of the room in a couple wide strides, standing behind Alfred, cupping his hand over his mouth.

"Mmf?" Alfred murmured from under the tight grasp of his teacher. The English man's other arms grabbed his right wrist, and pulled it behind his back, twisting it strong enough for him to shut up, but not enough to inflict actual pain.

"Shh..." He whispered into his ear, very slowly, before licking the outline of his ear. Alfred's whole body jumped in surprise, but the older man kept him still. He nibbled lightly on his earlobe, slowly removing his fingers, one by one, off his mouth. When his hand was completely gone, Alfred spoke, surprisingly calm.

"... May I ask what it is you're doing, or will you break my arm?" A pause of an awkward silence filled the air.

"Do me a favor." His voice was suddenly hoarse, low and gravely. But not exactly threatening. "Quit talking." He unwound Al's arm, still holding a firm grip on it, whisking him by the hip, and laying him down on one of the rows of desk in about two seconds.

Alfred blinked, trying to go over what just happened, and when his mind finally understood the scenario, his teacher on top of him, hands and knees, licking the outline of his jaw, starting from his ear to his chin and back, in this way that you couldn't help but moan. Which was odd, considering Alfred wasn't a moaner, so midnight jacking-off told him. Propped up on one hand, his other rubbed itself along the outline of his ear, or twirling a piece of his sandy blonde hair in his skinny fingers.

Besides all of this was weird, there was something else weird going on.

He could feel a certain man's 'excitement' against his leg through the somewhat thin fabric of his trousers, and Mr. Kirkland could probably feel his own through the denim. He would've started to swear at himself, if there wasn't a tongue shoved down his throat.

Yet he could still moan.


"Mis-Mister Kir-Kirk-Kirkland...!" He panted out, face turning red as the blonde's short hair tickled under his ear as he breathed deeply and low against his neck. He stopped, and looked up.

"Arthur." He said, his green eyes hazed over and narrowed.

"A-A-A... Alfred." He stuttered out, smiling lightly. The Brit smiled lightly, almost unnoticed, before moving back in for another kiss.

There was more kissing, tongue-shoving, and hair twirling. Though his hand soon slowly began to move downward, onto Alfred's collarbone, down his rib cage, and to the bottom hem of his black tee-shirt, lifting it up. Alfred grabbed his hand, sitting up. Without saying a word, he took it off himself, along with his belt, and began undoing the button of his jeans. Instead, Arthur grabbed Alfred's hand, and unbuttoned it, revealing a pair of navy blue boxers, 'Made in the USA' printed along the edge. Now that 'excitement' was clearly visible via a tent that popped out from the space between the zipper edges.

With a smirk, a cold hand slipped itself down between Alfred's bare skin the fabric of the boxers, causing Alfred to jump once again and shudder, though he was rather hot.

As one hand stroked his member, another cold hand fingered his nipple. Alfred found his back arching with every stroke, and when he was about two strokes away from coming, the hand suddenly stopped, wrapped around the base. A rough tongue licked from around his belly button to the middle of his rib cage.

It sent a shiver up his spine, and out his cock, all over Arthur's chin and neck, dripping down to his collar, some of which got on that little Union Jack.

"I-I'm sorry." Alfred apologized, after a long pause for him to catch his breath after his climax. A silent nod, and he wiped what was on his flesh with the back of his hand.

There was about another half hour of kissing and just fooling around, until they eventually ending up back to where they started; Mr. Kirkland's desk.

Alfred's legs were wrapped around Mr. Kirkland's hips, his jeans discarded and his boxers barely back on, Arthur set him down on the edge of the desk, peering at it over the blonde's bare shoulder.

The desk was covered in papers and book and folders of even more papers. With one swift motion of his arm, all over that stuff was shoved off the side of the desk and onto the floor with a loud swoosh of papers flying out in all directions.

But the desk was clear, and Alfred had already unhooked himself and laid himself down, awaiting for his master. He stripped quickly, before climbing back on, kissing, biting, and tugging.

Alfred rubbed his arms along the older man's biceps, running his fingers along up to the shoulder, where he gripped hard, making sure his fingernails weren't piercing him.

With one swift motion, his teacher... inserted. The dirty blonde exhaled quickly, before giving a slight smile as a sign to continue. He did; slowly at first, increasing at speed.

The classroom was quiet. There was on noise in the outside hall, the windows were shut (with a surprising steam on them, despite how large the classroom was), and the air conditioner was shut off. Oh, also the noise of the desk beneath them rocking lightly, increasing in speed and volume and Mr. Kirkland and Alfred did. Low pants, lots of "Oh God"s, and the wet, squishing noise also filled the room.

Gripping harder, Alfred looked over the man's shoulder. He could practically see his virginity flying out from him, angel wings being pierced by that of Mr. Kirkland's, well, penis. He never thought it would be like this, but there he was, moaning with every thrust.

And enjoying it.

They finished, panting and smiling. It was hard not to.

Alfred curled up into a ball, falling asleep about as soon as they finished. Arthur laid down next to him, happy he had a desk this large. He didn't fall asleep, like Alfred did, but lay there, staring up to the ceiling. He couldn't imagine his virginity was gone like that, because he thought before acting.

Oh, well. He thought. It was a good choice, anyway. He smiled, laughing lightly. A 24 year old virgin no moreTake that, Francis, you slut.

He got up, stretching, and pulling on his boxers. Arthur tripped, however, and ran into the desk, swearing loudly, and awaking Alfred. He sat up, yawning, looking surprised. He looked at his shirtless teacher, down at his naked body, screamed and grabbed his boxers off from the floor, quickly putting them on. Mr. Kirkland laughed.

"What?" Alfred asking, clearly not remembering anything.

"You must still be tired." Patting the front of his navy boxers, he noticed the rough spots on them. It all came back.

"Ohhh, right." He laughed nervously. "S-Sorry, I forgot." Arthur looked a little hurt at that.

"Does this happen a lot? Sex, I mean." An awkward pause.

"No… honestly, i-it's my first time…" Another awkward silence and Arthur continued dressing, happy to hear he wasn't the only one. Alfred look uncomfortable, though.

"If it makes you feel any better." Arthur said, as he buckled up his belt. "It was my first time as well." He finished dressing, slinging his professor jacket over his arm.

"Really?" Alfred asking, tugging his jeans back on.

"I've never heard of a 19 year old virgin."

Alfred laughed. "Speak for yourself, you 24 year old first-timer."

"Not any more." He replied with a wink, slipping his shoes on and throwing Alfred a pair of car keys. "These fell earlier... I'm assuming they're yours." They were. Two silver keys attached to a silver loop, with a letter 'A' keychain, the American flag filled the inside of it.

"Yeah, thanks." He caught them, turning them over with his thumb. He just stared down at his hand for a long time, turning it over and over with his thumb, listening to the jingling noise they made to fill the awkward silence.

Mr. Kirkland's hand moved on over to the corner of the desk, as he scanned over the area, and the mess he would have to come back to Monday morning.

"Oh." He kneeled down and picked something up from the pile of papers and folders that was pushed off earlier. Walking over to Alfred, holding something tight in his hand, took Alfred's wrist and placed that item in his palm, on top of the keys.

"Class is over; you may have this back." He walked away, unlocking the door and striding out into the hallway, on his way home, a little skip in a step.

Alfred looked down, tugging his shirt back on, and looked at his hand, and smiled.

On top of the keys was a red-and-white straw.

A/N: "...crying out her lover's name." Heh, +2 points.

Woo. One-Shotter for the win.


Hope y'all liked it, it was fun to write. =v=

I feel like such a perverted little duck.


Update 10/24: Uwaaah, 13 favoutires! Gahhh you guys are so cool~

And if you've noticed, I've been changing it along the way, thanks for the feedback as well. ^^

Thanks so much!