25. Brayden

Chapter twenty-five

Brayden

F uck him. Punch.

Fuck him and his sexy as fuck ass. Smack.

Fuck him and his beautiful as fuck smile. Wack.

Fuck him and his meaningless fucking words. Thump.

Over and over again, I unleash my frustrations on the bag in front of me. The rhythmic thud of my fists against the bag echoes my inner chaos. I'm confused about why he's going on a date with Ms. Banksy after the way he looked at me. What have these last couple of weeks been about?

I know he's my teacher.

I know lines have blurred.

And I know this is fucked up.

But I want him. I want him so fucking bad.

I side-eye the clock on the wall. It's 9 p.m. and I know he's probably out with her having dinner as we speak. Despite not being allowed in here at night, Mr. Stiles understands my need for this place and provided me with the code to enter when it's locked.

Thank God, he did. I wanted so badly to call Lan and get lost in him tonight. But I hate the fact that even the thought of touching another guy makes me feel sick. What the fuck has this man done to me? I've become an obsessed little boy who has a crush on his teacher.

Fuck, no. I beat the bag until my knuckles bleed.

I didn't wrap my hands.

I wanted to feel the pain.

I wanted to see the blood.

It's not enough.

I pause, reach into my bag, take out my phone, and send a text to Lan. Telling him to be at my dorm in fifteen. I need more, this isn't enough.

As I grab my bag and head for the doors, they suddenly open.

There he stands.

We both come to an abrupt stop. I observe his smart black shirt, buttoned up, and his matching black jeans. His disheveled hair, appearing as though someone had raked their fingers through it, causes my jaw to clench. Most likely Ms. Banksy. He looks wrecked or is this his freshly fucked appearance?

His eyes wander over me, taking in my appearance before becoming fixated on my hands covered in blood. His eyes turn fierce, and he quickly approaches me.

He comes to a halt in front of me, gripping my free hand, and exclaims, "What the hell did you do?" I quickly withdraw my hand from his grasp. I don't want his hands on me, especially after touching someone else.

"Nothing." I pass by him and begin making my way toward the doors.

"Why are you here?" he questions.

I stop and turn on my heels abruptly. "Why am I here? Why are you here? Shouldn't you be on your date?" I raise an eyebrow at him. He opens his mouth, but quickly shuts it, causing me to chuckle sarcastically before I turn around. I make it to the doors, but I don't make it through as the next words stop me.

"I didn't go." Exhaustion is clear in his barely audible voice. He didn't go. I feel a warmth spreading through me as my stomach churns. Three words are all it takes to wash away the anger and rage within me. I didn't go.

"Why?" I stay facing the doors, needing to know why he didn't go. If it's because she canceled, I'll leave and never think about that man again.

Lies, but OK.

"Why do you think, Brayden?" He chuckles as if it's clearly obvious. "Look at me." I pause for a moment. His soft voice pleads, "Brayden, please," shattering my heart. "Please look at me, Bray." The nickname Bray melts something within me. Slowly, I turn toward him, avoiding direct eye contact with him initially. Nervously, I avert my gaze downward.

His voice, shattered and weak, utters, "Bray."

I glance up. In that moment, our eyes lock, and it feels as if an invisible wall between us crumbles. Finally allowing us to be vulnerable and connected with nothing standing in our way.

"You," he says.

"Me?"

"Yes. You. You're the reason I didn't go on the date."

"Why." I need to hear him say it. I need to know it's not just in my fucked up mind. I am certain of his feelings toward me, but I need to hear it from him directly. I stand frozen in place as he approaches me, watching his slow advance. Despite the dim lighting in the studio, I can see his face and the hunger in his eyes as he moves closer to me. My heart quickens and I gulp, struggling to catch my breath through my nose.

"It's a scary moment when you acknowledge that you have feelings for someone you're not supposed to, and those feelings are completely unfamiliar to you. Experiencing same-sex attraction after always being interested in a different sex can be both confusing and exhilarating." Mr. Stiles inches nearer, never breaking eye contact.

"You have this sense of not really knowing yourself. It's taken me forty years to find my true self." He pauses, reaching out and tracing a finger along my jawline and causing a gasp to leave my lips. "But do you know which feeling completely consumes you, Bray? The feeling that arises when you acknowledge these newfound emotions. You come to accept that this is who you are." He takes one more step, stopping dead in front of me, leaving only a few inches between us.

"And in that moment, you come to accept that no one else exists except that one person. Because if you go one more day without feeling that person's lips against yours, you will simply cease to exist." I gasp and take a moment to process his words, staring at him in complete disbelief.

"Brayden. Kiss me," he whispers and I'm not sure why, but I become paralyzed. I am unable to move. I try to speak but end up closing my mouth. The air thickens between us, charged with unspoken desire. His gaze holds mine, a magnetic pull that defies reason. I feel the rapid flutter of my pulse, the heat rising in my cheeks. We're standing on the cliff of something forbidden, and it's intoxicating.

"I—uh."

His eyes darken. He knows what I want, what we both want. His fingers trace the curve of my jaw.

"Ahh, fuck it." Mr. Stiles twists my baseball cap around and then he's kissing me—hard, urgent, as if time itself is collapsing around us. Our lips crash together, and it's a wildfire, consuming doubt and hesitation. In that stolen moment, I forget everything else—the rules, the consequences. There's only this ache, this hunger. And as our mouths move hungrily against each other, I realize that existence itself centers on this kiss. If I stop now, I'll cease to be. But if I surrender completely, I'll lose myself in him.

And maybe, just maybe, that's exactly what I want.

Tilting my head to the side, I open my mouth wider for Mr. Stiles' probing tongue. As soon as our tongues intertwine, a blazing fire ignites within me, spreading throughout my whole body. My fingers weave through his hair as our kiss becomes more desperate. My stomach flutters, my legs become jelly, and my dick fucking aches with how hard it is right now. Mr. Stiles moans into my mouth as our tongues urgently tangle with each other's. He backs me up until I hit what I think is the punching bag. I turn us around as I back him up into the wall.

Our lips remain connected, unbroken. He spins me again and my back hits the wall hard. He pushes into me and if it wasn't for his body flush with mine; I don't think I would be standing right now. The pressure of his hard dick against mine ignites my nerve endings, and I instinctively press back into him, grinding against each other. I have never experienced such an explosive kiss before, one that ignites a primal desire within me, tempting me to drop to my knees and beg for more.

In that moment, I am willing to do almost anything Mr. Stiles desires if it means having his lips on mine. Reluctantly, Mr. Stiles ends the kiss, leaving me wanting more as I lean forward to capture his lips again, not wanting this ride he has me on to end. This time, the kiss is more tender, as our tongues lazily graze each other, creating a rhythmic feeling that gives me spine-tingling shivers. Mr. Stiles grips my head tighter, then slowly withdraws, leaning his forehead against mine as we both struggle to regulate our erratic breathing. Filled with desire, his eyes lock with mine in a silent exchange as we regain our composure.

The room fades away—there's only us and our hunger for each other. Time cracks, and I surrender to the pull, knowing that in this stolen moment, we've crossed a threshold from which there's no return.

The room pulses with heat, our breaths ragged. He places a gentle kiss on my lips. His mouth travels from mine, mapping a trail of fire along my jawline. My skin burns where his lips touch, and I'm lost in him, totally and completely lost and honestly, I don't want to find my way back. I want to stay here with him. The world outside ceases to exist. There's only us—two souls hovering on the edge of surrender.

"This changes everything," I murmur, my voice a fragile thread. His lips, warm and relentless, feathers across my ear, igniting flames within me. The world blurs, and I cling to him, craving more.

His raspy voice echoes, "Good." His harsh breaths fan my face. "It's never felt like that before," he whispers and I don't even need to ask him what he means because I know. I've kissed dozens of guys, and none has even been on the same galaxy as that.

"I know," I reply as he places a gentle kiss on my lips, one time, two times.

"Your lips are so soft," he murmurs. I smile as he continues kissing my lips. My stomach flips again and again.

When will these butterflies calm the fuck down?

It's as if I've been on a ride that has pumped me with unlimited adrenaline. I feel like I could run to the moon and back.

I brush my hands against Mr. Stiles' stubbled beard. "I wish I could say the same."

"Shit, sorry." His eyes moving to my cheeks. "You have red marks around your lips." With closed lips, he smiles, as if he's attempting to contain his laughter.

"It feels good," I say, my eyes bouncing between his amused gaze.

"Yeah?" He raises his eyebrow before moving his face and rubbing his beard against the side of my lips and moving over to the other cheek.

"Stop." My voice pitches high as a laugh escapes me as I try to move away from Mr. Stiles, but he holds me in a tight cocoon, rubbing his rough beard against my face. Although it stings slightly, I welcome it. I want to feel him on me for days. I wish he could rub himself all over me.

"I meant—" I let out a squeal resembling a fucking girl, "My lips." He stops immediately.

"Oh, yeah?" His gaze becomes intense as his eyes fixate on my lips. Once again, he tilts his head and gives me a tender kiss on the lips. I am overcome by the feeling of spinning, tingling, and an intense craving for him, as if I'm drunk on him.

"You're so fucking hot, Brayden. I could kiss you until the end of time and it still wouldn't be enough." His eyes focus intently on my lips, a smile spreading wider across his face. As I observe him closely, I notice the charming way his eyes crinkle at the corners, the fine lines that frame them, subtly hinting at his age.

Despite these small signs, the rest of his appearance is flawless, exuding a timeless attraction. His hair, a rich shade of chestnut, is perfectly styled, complementing his strong jawline and high cheekbones. His skin is smooth and radiant, with a healthy glow that suggests he takes great care of himself. I never realized how fucking beautiful Mr. Stiles is.

"It was fucking breathtaking seeing you kiss, but to actually be receiving it, it's mind blowing," He exhales softly against my lips. With a forceful motion, he slams his lips onto mine and once again uses his tongue to explore my mouth. We can't get enough of each other, drinking each other up. While we devour each other, our tongues fiercely compete for control. Mr. Stiles snaps away fast that I have to hold on to the wall behind me to stop myself from falling sideway. Our attention is immediately drawn to the door as we hear a loud bang in the distance. Mr. Stiles takes a few steps back and the door swings open. A dark shadow stands at the darkened door and then a body appears in the dim lights.

I narrow my eyes and make out the image before muttering, "Shit."

Lan's face becomes visible. With wide eyes, he glances at me and then shifts his attention to Mr. Stiles. With both of us breathing heavily, I can't begin to imagine what this situation looks like, especially when Mr. Stiles just stepped away from me.

"Lan, what are you doing here?" I rasp, trying to clear my throat.

"I-uh thought you might be caught up here. I came to find you after waiting at your place as you asked," he says, awkwardly hugging himself and shifting his weight between his feet.

"Oh, yeah. Uh—" Mr. Stiles stands there, his lips sealed, observing both Lan and me. He raises a brow before uttering.

"I'm going to be heading off. Your form is better." I frown and then realize he is trying to make it come across that he was helping me with my boxing.

"Thanks." My stomach sinks. He knows I told Lan to come over. He knows I was going to fuck Lan. Shit. Usually, Lan avoids direct eye contact with Mr. Stiles, but I witness Lan's eyes lingering on Mr. Stiles' face as he walks past and says something under his breath. I draw nearer to Lan and notice his eyes wandering across my face as he frowns and furrows his brows.

Scratching the back of my neck, awkwardly I say, "I'm tired now. Sorry. I pushed myself a little too much in here tonight." I gesture with my busted hand and he nods rapidly, but never breaks his stare from my mouth.

"You have something on your face and around your lips?" He points to his cheek. "Looks like a rash, are you all right?" he asks, frowning.

Forcing a smile, I reply, "Yeah, just hot. Let's go." I walk alongside him as we exit the doors and pass through the gym.

Once we're outside, I turn to him. "I'll see you around, OK?" Lan eyes me with a slight frown, appearing suspicious as he turns and peers over his shoulder at a retreating Mr. Stiles which I hadn't realized I was watching. Lan catches my attention as he faces forward again.

"OK." He nods slowly, and I turn around to head back to my dorm in the opposite direction. I hear my phone make a sound and I take it out to find an Instagram direct message. As I read the message, the butterflies that had settled down come back to life.

@thestilestman: If you touch a single inch of skin on that kid, I swear I will make you regret it. I don't share.

I try to suppress the grin that's eager to appear on my face by biting my lip. I type back.

@quakeontheice: The only skin my fingers will touch are yours.