Good Boy For Him

Teachings

"You've just had so much luck with Bowie." Mr. Thomas persuades, "He's one of our most challenged students and you've helped him significantly!"

"Mr. Thomas," Wesley says, "I know where you're going with this, sir, and with all due respect, I can't do what I think you're asking."

"Please, Wesley." Mr. Thomas pleads, "If you could just get this student to get through a class without cheating-"

"Mr. Thomas-"

"Just try!" Mr. Thomas pleads, "Dawson Wood won't pass this year without your help! We'll have another Bowie Ward situation."

Wesley sighs, leaning back in the chair in front of Mr. Thomas' desk. He mutters, "I'll do it. But don't expect it to be a success."

"Is it my turn to slam you into the bathroom wall?" Dawson jumps at the voice. He turns quickly, coming face-to-face with the man that's been the star of all his dreams for the past week. Wesley smirks at Dawson, "Speechless?"

Dawson finds his composure and crosses his arms, "What do you want?"

"Oh, is that anyway to talk to me?" Wesley steps forward, touching his chest to Dawson's. He ducks his head into Dawson's neck, nipping at the skin, knowing Dawson won't stop him. His hands find their way to Dawson's hips, gripping them tightly.

Dawson breathes out deeply, trying to keep in a moan. His hands move without his brain wanting them to. He places his hands onto Wesley's shoulders, squeezing at the soft fabric of his polo.

Wesley lifts Dawson easily, setting him on the sink. Dawson throws his head back against the mirror, moaning loudly when Wesley presses his hand against the bulge in Dawson's skinny jeans. Wesley's hands slip down to Dawson's knees, gripping them tightly and pulling roughly. Dawson slips back, his back on the sink and his neck uncomfortably bent against the mirror. His ass is pressed against Wesley's crotch.

"W-Wesley," Dawson groans, arching his back to try to get friction from Wesley on his crotch. "Please."

"Oh, I'm glad you've remembered your manners." Wesley chuckles, kissing against Dawson's throat. He pulls back, keeping only his pelvis pressed to Dawson. "Mr. Thompson wants me to tutor you."

Dawson's eyes open in an instant, fixing Wesley with a glare. He shoves Wesley away and sits up. "Dude, fuck off. " He crosses his arms, "I get that you're smart and you helped Bowie. But I don't need you or want you."

"Seems like you want me." Wesley reaches forward, grabbing at Dawson's cock.

Dawson slaps his hand away, hopping off the sink. "I said, fuck off!" He shoves past Wesley, leaving the bathroom.

Wesley sighs, glancing back at the door before rubbing at his uncomfortable boner.

Wesley sits in the library, waiting silently. His arms are crossed as he leans back in the chair. Algebra, physics, and U.S history textbooks sit on the table in front of him.

Eventually, Bowie steps into the library while dragging Dawson behind. He brings him up to the table, shoving him onto one of the chairs.

Dawson grumbles, "You told me there were free autographed AC/DC CDs in here!"

"Yeah, and you believed me." Bowie scoffs, patting Dawson's shoulders. "Obviously you needed this tutoring a lot more than we thought."

Bowie walks off, going back to wherever he came from. Dawson glares at Wesley as Wesley's blank face turns into a devious smirk.

"Just sit still and listen." Wesley orders, standing up. He walks around the table to stand behind Dawson's chair. He lets his hands drop down onto Dawson's shoulders, massaging them harshly. "So what do you want to work on first? Hmm? Math, science? You're probably failing English, too, right?"

Dawson tries to stand up but Wesley shoves him back down into the chair. "Let go of me, you asshole!" Dawson mutters, glowering up at Wesley. "I don't need to study! School is stupid and pointless!"

Wesley sighs, digging his fingers uncomfortably into Dawson's shoulders. He tsks, "I swear, every second we're away, it's like you become more and more of a bad boy." He leans down, letting his lips brush against Dawson's ear. "Don't forget your manners, baby."

Dawson gulps, feeling shivers run up his spine from Wesley's breath hitting his skin. He turns his head to face Wesley, "I hate you."

"Yeah, well I hate it when I have to tutor people." Wesley shoves Dawson's head down toward the table and goes to stand beside him instead of behind him. "Let's do algebra."

Dawson groans but endures Wesley's teaching.