Chapter I: Mr. Moreno

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Summary: You're struggling in a class but fortunately, the new teacher is extremely kind and offers a helping hand...

Warnings: A little bit of smut but not much, flirting, teacher x student kink I guess but you can tell by the title

Word Count: 1459 words!
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"Ugh, c'mon! You've gone over this topic so many times with Mr. Louis!"

 You yell at yourself as your head looms over your notes, the pages illuminated by the warmth of your desk lamp as the clock strikes 12 am. Rubbing your stress-crusted eyes, you decide to call it a night and ask for help yet again in class the next day.

After a long night of frustration stealing your Z's, you find yourself staring at the door to your dreaded class, caffeine holding your eyes open. Hesitant, you stretch for the handle and open the gate to hell. A weight remains on your shoulders though you've set your bag down, "I should have just slept in today and called in sick instead of humiliating myself again." A tsunami of negative thoughts floods your head. Class is about to begin when you hear them, the footsteps of the devil himself walking out of his office, or so you think. You turn to your notebook to avoid the piercing glare of your teacher but something is different. 

You sniffle to keep your nose from running, taking in a new scent...a new cologne. A friendly voice fills the room, gently grabbing your chin and lifting your head as it welcomes you, "Good morning class! I will be filling in for a while for your teacher. He is absent on personal matters and will be gone for an unknown period of time," a melody dancing about in your ears, you feel as if you've indulged in 10 energy drinks. He continues as he writes his name on the board, "My name is Marcus Moreno and yes, I am the leader of the Heroics but for now, I will be your new teacher so for formalities, I ask you call me Mr. Moreno in the classroom. If you have any questions at all, please feel free to raise your hand! If you feel uncomfortable with that, I am more than happy to stay afterwards and answer any questions in private." His words course through your veins as your heart jumps to your throat. You can't believe it: the leader of the Heroics is your substitute! 

He paces the room as he begins class, your mind drifts off, "Mr. Moreno...I like that name." It feels so natural falling off your tongue. His deep, hickory eyes glance over, locking onto your shy gaze, "Did I say that out loud?" you mumble to yourself. His smile snatches your breath from your lungs as he moves closer. Leaning down toward you slightly, "What's your name, miss?" His lips stretch across his tan complexion as he speaks to you, revealing his perfect teeth. His question finally registers in your love-struck brain, "Oh, it's...uh..." You trip over your own words, your name stumbling out of your mouth like you're trying to spell it. "And what is your last name?" you answer a little more quickly this time. He repeats your name, making sure he gets it right, flowing from his lips like honey. "That's a lovely name..." He stands upright keeping eye contact, minus the wink he just gave you. Oh how he seemed to tower over you. His arms, strikingly large, and his hands...oh his hands. You come to your senses, "What the hell? He's your teacher! Yes, you're both adults and he's an older man... that could take care of you ...and could easily push you over onto his desk to- what am I doing?!" Your cheeks, slightly red from the thought. "... it is such a pleasure to meet you."He continues; his smile, still glowing beneath his mustache, as he turns to the rest of the class, a glare hitting his glasses. 

He leans against the podium, his  sleeves quarter-rolled, allowing your eyes to peek at his forearms...- are you okay? You're fantasizing about how strong Marcus is just by looking at his forearms! Get a hold of yourself! You quickly snap back as he calls on you,

 "Yes sir?" 

"Do you know the answer to number 7?"

"N-...No sir. I do not. I- I'm sorry."

"No worries! If you need help just ask!"

Glances, winks, and grins shared between the two of you throughout the lecture. Time seems to fly when the clock signals the end of class. The last student left the room, your clammy hands flip back to the start of the notes from the class, "Hey, would you mind staying afterwards?" you blurt out before your lips can stop the words. His smile returning to his face, "Absolutely! What can I do for you sweetheart?" Words become difficult to process again, "I, uh, I'm still...umm...I'm still kinda c-confused on the...the topic." His strong figure rises from the podium and signals for you to follow him into his office. 

Holding the door open for you, he closes it after the both of you enter, taking a seat behind his desk while you sit anxiously in front of him. His finger carefully follows the bridge of his nose as he readjusts his glasses. You cross your arms as if to prevent his eyes from seeing your heart beat out of your chest as his voice eases through you, "What's causing you issues, sweetheart?" That's the second time he's called you sweetheart in a matter of minutes. Does he know what he's doing to you? "I don't know why but I just can't grasp the subject. I can't tell you how many hours I spent going over it with our teacher after school and I still don't get it. I barely get any sleep because I try to study the material. I even stayed up late last night to try and prepare myself for class today so I didn't embarrass myself but that clearly didn't work and it's really frustrating..." he cuts you off "Well I'm not Mr. Louis." His voice soothing your frustration. "Yeah, that's true. I just...I-I'm not the best at this subject." He stretches his arm across his desk and opens his hand, "Can I see what you're having trouble with?" Your hands trembling as you hand him your notebook, open to the page that sits at the root of your struggle. His dark eyes glance over your material, refreshing himself on the information, writing in more things he believes will help you. Rising from his seat, he walks around to the front of his desk, leaning against it as he picks up his gaze to meet yours. Words pour from his mouth, illustrating the topic from a different perspective, your brain filing away the information. He goes on for a few minutes as you absorb more and more from his lesson. 

Looking up from your notebook, he hands it back to you, "Any questions?" 

"Um..can you go over the stuff you wrote? I just wanna make sure I got it. This is really helping."

"Absolutely! I'm glad you're starting to get it! Here, let me explain this stuff a little more..."

Heat rises in your face as he kneels next to you, peering into your notes. His cologne embraces you, "Hang in there, c'mon, he's explaining this to you...but he's so close to you." Shaking your head back to tune into Marcus, you try and get a little closer, leaning towards his strong figure. You notice a difference in his breathing as he follows your lead, moving in closer, "Did you, um, did- did you have anymore questions?" his eyes remaining on your notebook. Curious, you face him. He turns just as you do. He's so close to you; Marcus Moreno is inches away from your face. "Say something! Your hot teacher is totally into you too!! But what if he isn't?? No. He is one-hundred-percent into you!" Reaching up, he covers your hand with his, carefully squeezing it. "I...um, I-"

"Shhh...quiet, sweetheart."

His eyes make their way down your face, landing on your lips. Air stutters as it leaves your chest, the tension pushing it out of you. Marcus wets his lips before leaning in, your mouths almost touching, his warm eyes peer to yours slowly. The sensation of his thumb, rough and calloused, sliding across your delicate lips sends a shiver from your spine to the warmth between your legs. You moan at his touch while you grind yourself into the seat, gasping at the touch of his free hand gliding up to your heat, rubbing you through your denim as his pants grow tighter. The desire for him becomes unbearable, "Please, Mr. Moreno..." His mouth now lightly against your ear, his breath raking down your neck. How much more of this can you take? You need him now, "Mr. Moreno-" His voice, husky as it rests in your ear, his hand tugging at your zipper, 

"Call me Marcus"


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