A Studious Affliction [Ziam] [Student/teacher]

Chapter Nine.

As the low murmur of voices a few paces away colours the silence of the coffee shop, I cup my hands around my mug and lift it to my lips, taking a small, delicate sip-

"Ouch! Damn it!" My hands wobble and spill my mocha all over me as I rush to put it back down on the table. My fingers fly up to my mouth and I pinch at my tongue, at my sore lips, as my other hands starts patting at the dark splashes now staining my tee-shirt. "Jeez, that was hot-"

"Hotter than me?"

All of my muscles freeze at the sound of his voice. Of course he's here, why wouldn't he be? The universe just loves playing games with me.

I hope they're having some major laughing fits up there, the meanies.

Instead of saying something like a polite person or removing my fingers from my mouth like a normal person, I let my eyes wander upwards until they meet Mr. Payne's. Even though I am sat here with my mouth open with fingers pinching my tongue and my other hand rubbing at my crotch, he doesn't even look the slightest bit incredulous. Just amused.

And sexy. As usual.

If I had doubted for one moment that Mr. Payne looks better in suits and school attire than he would in casual clothes, I have never been more wrong. In fact, he looks down-right sinful in a pair of low-hung, dark jeans and a tight white top. So sinful that I sit there staring at him whilst my fingers remain in my mouth.

"Can I sit here?" He doesn't even wait for an answer; he just sits opposite me. The round coffee table is the only thing separating us and, for a second, I'm remembering when the only things separating us was our clothes and I feel hot - and not because of the spilt coffee. "What are you drinking?"

I finally manage to take my fingers out of my mouth and close it, only to open it again and say, "I - what? You..."

"It must taste good if you were sucking on your finger for so long." Mr. Payne's eyes glint and I swallow dryly, my eyes following his every movement. "Mind if I... give it a go?"

Spluttering on my own words, a slight squeak escapes me and my ears go pink because of sucking and give it a go and my brain is in overdrive and my sentences barely make sense and all I can do is nod and not well, not well at all.

Mr. Payne, smirking in satisfaction, leans forward and slowly swipes his finger around the rim of my mug, collecting froth. My lips part as I gape at him in, completely transfixed; he pushes his finger slowly into my drink, covering it in more foam.

In an instant, my mind is overcome with alluring, lust-driven and just plain dirty thoughts. Yet, as hard as I try, they don't leave.

Mr. Payne's eyes flick up to meet mine, dark and certain. They don't leave mine, capturing me irrevocably, as he lifts his wet finger to his mouth and traces his bottom lip with it, lightly, before plunging it in and engulfing it in between his cheeks which he hollows out as he licks up all the froth, sucking it off his finger.

My trousers suddenly feel much tighter and my vision is strained; I need to blink, I want to blink but my eyes have been so ruined by the teasingly tempting sight in front of me that I am physically incapable of it. I need to drink him up; devour him whilst I can.

Mr. Payne pulls his finger from his mouth and, with a slick grin, says, "Hm, I can see why you're so infatuated with it... Would you like to try mine?"

Would I like to try his?

Would I like to try his?

I've been dying to try his from the moment I saw him! Dear God, yes, I would like to try his. So, of course, I immediately nod, my mouth watering at the thought.