Gerard has a problem: he has a monumental crush on his music teacher. The explicit fantasies he imagines in the middle of class are bad enough but Mr Iero does nothing to help his cause - everything about him screams attraction. It all reaches crisis-point when Gerard finds himself with some immediate physical difficulties, and he can only pray Mr Iero is as oblivious as he is good-looking.
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"... And that's why the key signature is E flat major," Mr Iero explains, half-awakening Gerard from his beautiful nap in the middle of class, and then fully startling him when the music teacher adds on, "Gerard, what did I just say?"
Gerard's eyes desperately sweep the class, hoping someone will mouth the answer but nobody will look at him. Crap. His cheeks tinge pink. "Um... C-Crescendo?"
Mr Iero tuts in disappointment but Gerard can detect a playful smile. The teacher sits back on his chair at the front, casually swinging his feet up on his desk with one arm behind his head. He's wearing skinny jeans today because to hell with regulations - even in his mid-twenties, he's still somewhat of a punk, if even a bad excuse for one.
Mr Iero - Frank - doesn't tend to hand out punishments, especially not for trivial things such as not paying attention - especially not for Gerard Way. Gerard is oblivious to the special treatment he receives. The whole class are more than a little frustrated at this but don't stick their noses in, as long as they're not getting into trouble either. Besides, it's nearing graduation time and they couldn't care less.
"Better luck next time, Gee." Frank scolds. The class don't mind the nickname basis - it's been going on for too long now. Most people call Gerard 'Gee' at some point anyway. It's a name adopted from his brother Mikey.
It seems to suit Gerard better - it's small and cute like him, they always say. Despite Mikey is two years younger than him at sixteen, he acts more like the older brother and would do anything to protect Gerard. Gerard is clueless and naïve but a good person - he just doesn't want to open his eyes to the bad of the world.
"I understand nobody can really be bothered today," Frank drawls, spinning circles in his chair at this point because fucking God, he's so goddamn bored but he really loves this class and these students and he wants to do something productive for once, "but I've got something planned for the last bit of the lesson."
A series of groans from the students later, he's assuring them, "I know, I know. It's not like me at all to actually teach something - new, at least." Let's be honest, the only reason anyone takes Mr Iero's class is because they know they won't have to do anything or give a crap about it. "But trust me, okay? We're gonna make some..."
Gerard's totally not listening again, daydreaming about his comics and the paintings he's yet to finish at home and how Mr Iero looks kind of really goddamn cute today - well, he does every day. Gerard finds himself enticed by the older man, sneaking glances in discretion at his face, adorned with a hint of stubble and round, lazy eyes. His hair is getting long.
Gerard's eyes go to his teacher's neck, admiring the scorpion tattoo half-hidden by his collar. Technically, they don't allow tattoos that visible in his school but Mr Iero has a permanent I-don't-care thing going on. Gerard loves the man, really - not in any way other than he admires him, looks up to him, wants to be like him one day. (Perhaps not a music teacher but seemingly fearless and likeable by all.)
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.
What Mr Iero doesn't know is that Gerard is embarrassed. Silly, naïve little Gerard had a dream last night that was so filthy hot and unexpected, it left him gasping for air and drenched in sweat as he shot up from his slumber, a proud problem between his legs. Gerard just didn't know what to do with it, he swears! He didn't have time to fix it in the morning so he had to let it... go away by itself.
All he remembers is how real it felt; how Mr Iero touched him as he moaned and whimpered for more, please more, Sir, I need you, so fast, so filthy, so bad—
As the teacher starts the lesson and students find their pairs for the new activity they've been set about to do, Gerard snaps back to reality. But to his utter horror, he discovers something utterly shameful has returned. Crap! He puts a book over his lap, half-squealing in mortification.
"Gee, is there something wrong?" Mr Iero gestures to the younger boy's shaking leg and flushed cheeks.
"No!" He exclaims at once. He's so dead. "I - I'm just tired. In fact, I don't feel so good. Can I go to the bathroom?"
Mr Iero agrees and Gerard wastes no time in hurrying out of the classroom, angling his body the best he can so nobody sees the obvious hard-on he has for his music teacher, damn it. When he reaches the toilets, he locks himself in the end cubicle, sitting on the toilet seat with his head in his hands, recalling his dream.
"Wanted to bend you over this desk for so long," Frank groans, pushing Gerard against the wooden surface of the table and tracing a hand down his uncovered spine.
"Mr Iero, please," Gerard whines, pushing back into attempts to get friction and relief but he's quickly forced back down again, a soft exhale coming from his parted lips.
Frank hums in disapproval and begins taking off his belt. Gerard is already undressed. "Need to put you in your place, baby boy. Can't have you misbehaving. Tell me - who's in charge here?"
The belt comes down on the bare skin of his butt. Gerard cries out, his yell soon turning into a soft whimper of need as the pain fades into stinging pleasure. "Y-you," he stutters.
"What's that?" Frank snaps and brings the belt down again, slightly harder this time.
Gerard holds back a muffled yell and corrects himself with a short intake of breath. "You, Sir."
"Oh, God." Gerard hangs his head further, the heat spreading across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Why the hell, out of everyone, does it have to be a fantasy about his teacher?
"Gerard?" Someone tentatively calls his name from outside the cubicle, and for a split second Gerard believes it's Mr Iero until his brain registered these are the student toilets and his teacher probably just sent someone to check on him.
"Here!" He squeaks, shifting uncomfortably. "I'm here, I just - I don't feel so good. I'll be back soon. Tell him I'll be back soon?" He adds the last part on quickly, pleading it, almost.
"Yeah. Sure." The unknown kid agrees. Gerard holds his breath as he hears the door swing, indicating he's alone once again, and he exhales.
Damn it, he's going to have to sort himself out. How long can he take? The memory of his dream still fresh in his head, he reckons not long. Unzipping his jeans and lowering his hand, he slowly takes a hold of what's got him into such bother.
He tilts his head back, facing the ceiling, closing his eyes as he moves his hand, taking in short gasps of breath. The feel of the calloused hand against his ass, the rough voice in his ear, the lips against his neck...
"I'm gonna make you feel so good, Gee," Mr Iero hums, lips suddenly cold and unexpected against Gerard's back, making him gasp and jolt away instinctively, "have you ever done this before, baby?"
"Sir," he whines, wishing there would be less talking and more sex. Who needs a plot-line in a wet dream?
Frank pulls Gerard back by the hair, causing him to cry out. "Answer my question, Gerard, or I swear to God I'll smack you on that bubble butt so hard you'll have to stand in my class for the rest of the year."
"I-I haven't, Sir," Gerard stutters, then continues to wriggle and whine, "but I need you! I want it, please, I—"
"Do I have to gag you?" Frank snaps. Gerard feels his lips twist into a smirk against the skin on his shoulder-blades. "Would you like that, baby?"
Gerard feels the sinful blush rise to cheeks in shame. "I..." He trails off in a squeal, embarrassed.
"I'd do so many things to you," he groans, and Gerard moans when he feels Frank tease him, so close to him, so close to being inside him, "mess you up something terrible. You'd never think of another man again, not when I'm done with you." He smooths a hand over Gerard's behind. Gerard bites back a quiet scream. "But I need your permission."
"Sir," Gerard whispers, finding his confidence, "please, I want you to gag me, Sir. I want you to tie me up."
"Good boy. Is that all?" Frank pushes.
Gerard bends back, slightly wiggling himself in the air as his lower lip is pulled between his teeth. In a sudden rush of confidence, he whispers, "Can you - can you spank me again?"
With no hesitation, Frank's hand comes down on Gerard's backside - hard. He's ditched the belt. Gerard lurches forward in surprise. "I didn't realise you lost your manners." Frank states like the calm before the storm.
"I'm sorry, please, Sir," he quickly corrects himself, realising the 'Sir' and submission are more important aspects than he thought. Not that it bothers him at all.
"Love seeing you turn red at my hands," Frank groans, caressing the red mark where he hit Gerard, spreading the stinging sensation across the flesh, "seeing you all marked up, signs of me all over you. Want me to leave some more pretty bruises, baby?" He bends down then, pressing his lips on the insides of Gerard's thighs, teeth grazing the skin there.
Gerard lets out an indistinguishable noise and his eyes flutter shut. "Yes, Sir," he begs.
Frank kisses Gerard's thigh, tongue and teeth and filthy desire, nipping until a fresh crimson mark appears on the surface. Gerard's leaking already, his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he lets out little gasps of appreciation. The noises rush blood all over Frank's body.
Gerard's so close, so on the edge, when the door to the bathroom opens again. He immediately freezes his actions, holding himself in his hand, sweat dripping down his forehead. He holds back a squeak of surprise at the intruder, torn between waiting for them to go away or - in sheer desperation - finishing himself off as quietly as he can. He can hardly bear the temptation.
He's thinking about going for the latter until he hears the person speak. "Gee?"
No, it's Mr Iero! God, could it get anymore mortifying? Gerard leans back against the toilet, a scarlet blush rising to spread across his entire face. It's not as though his music teacher can see him but here he is, jerking off to a former wet dream he's had of the man himself, and it makes him ashamed.
"S-Sir?" He calls out. Damn his stutter! It can't get any worse, surely.
"Should I send the nurse?" Mr Iero asks worriedly. "I've put the lesson on hold for you." Oh, but of course it can always get worse. Now the whole class is waiting on him.
"No!" He rushes. "You don't have to stop your teaching. I think I'll be going home anyway - I'm really sick."
Gerard moves his hand suddenly, by accident, running his thumb. He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, almost impressed by the intensity of the pleasure it brings. He continues to move his hand slowly, unsure as to why - but he just can't stop now. Ohwow.
"I'll write you a note," Frank decides because in his mind, Gerard seems very unwell and he feels a pang of sympathy for his student, "I know how skeptical reception can be about sending kids home for 'feeling sick'. I'll drop your things off at the office and you can go straight home, alright? Don't worry about missing class."
"Thank you," Gerard gasps, concealing it with a cough - if he has to physically stick his fingers down his throat to be sick, to mask any other kind of pleasure-filled noise and to convince Mr Iero to kindly get lost, he will.
"Okay. Get well soon, Gerard." Mr Iero offers.
"You too, Sir." He replies on instinct before mentally face-palming himself for the inappropriate response. "Uh, I mean - have a good day?" His head tilts back again, his jaw falling slack.
Frank chuckles, sending shivers down Gerard's spine. "I'll see you soon, I hope." Then it's silent, indicating the teacher has left.
Gerard exhales a breath he didn't know he was holding. Moving his hand quicker now, the sounds of slapping skin fill the bathroom. He bounces slightly, allowing breathless moans and gasps and whimpers and profanities to escape his lips. He whines Mr Iero's name followed by a string of curses as he comes, spilling into his hand and onto his exposed thighs, absolutely out of breath.
"Oh, God." He mumbles, the realisation of what he's done in the presence of a teacher settling in. He quickly cleans himself up with a tissue and flushes it down the toilet.
Therefore, he doesn't hear the sound of the door finally shutting as Frank leaves.