Diluted ☻ FRERARD ONE-SHOTS

Hot For Teacher

The teacher uses his hands a lot when he talks. His hands are not tattooed - though he's mentioned many times to the class that he would like them to be, and that he should be able to but the school board won't let him because they're a 'farm of whining pigs stuck up their own dickholes', he told Gerard one time, albeit perhaps not as explicitly - but they're still nice to look at. Strong, slightly calloused but probably soft.

Frank tends to think about his own hands more than he should too, only he imagines them running through Gerard's hair and across his face because, God, he's totally got the hots for one of his students. How sick can he be? They'd both be consenting adults but it's still wrong. He shouldn't have such dark fantasies about the boy - his hands, now on Gerard's smooth skin, tracing circles on Gerard's hips, fingers in Gerard's mouth and over Gerard's neck, God, running down Gerard's bare back and up Gerard's thighs littered with goosebumps and marks that he...

"... So split up into pairs—" Frank is cut off by the bell ringing, and he throws his arms up in exasperation. He had barely been paying attention to his own words, talking without thought. "Okay, next time. Tomorrow. Have a good day." He waves them all off in dismissal, taking a last, lingering look at Gerard.

When they're all gone, he leans back further in his chair, sighing heavily at himself. He needs to get it under control. It's so unprofessional, these desires he exhibits; they're going to get him into trouble (fired, even) but he can't help it and one day soon he's going to have to do something about it because Gerard is so lovely and innocent and the man just wants to ruin him—

"M-Mr Iero?"

That gave him a fright and a half. The teacher's head snaps up, finding the hazel eyes of the object of his desire itself. Gerard steps a few hesitant steps forward, biting his lip and it's driving Frank crazy. "Can I help you, Gee?"

"I'm sorry about falling asleep in class, I've just been so tired lately and I know it's a bad excuse and you probably don't wanna hear it but—" The boy babbles on.

"Gerard, Gee, it's alright." Frank assures him, and Gerard's attention is once again brought to the curve of the teacher's lips and how they move when they talk and Gerard is like, whoa, gosh, I think I really want to kiss those lips but he'll totally reject me and then I'll look even more like an idiot so I better not.

"If you say so, Sir." Gerard shoots him a small smile. Frank decides he really, really likes that - 'Sir' - coming from Gerard's mouth and that's when he knows he should send the poor kid away before his problem below comes into view.

"Take care, Gerard." Frank bids him farewell but internally curses himself because his voice sounds far too much like a purr of affection. Gerard thankfully doesn't notice before he leaves.

The next morning, Frank is set to teach Gerard's class before morning break. He's been dealing with immature freshmen for what seems like an eternity now, and can't wait until he sees the familiar mop of firetruck red hair arriving at his classroom. Again, he can hardly pay attention to what he's teaching or what the students are asking him until it comes to the point where he has to excuse himself to go to the staff bathrooms and splash cold water over his face because, God damn it, wake up you soft prick!

The single senior class to take music this year finally show up at Frank's door and he lets them in, scanning for the only one he really wants to see. Gerard doesn't meet his gaze at that moment, but instead focuses intently on getting his stuff unpacked for the lesson then staring at his worn Converse high-tops.