December 1997. (Part 2)
Hello lovely people!
Just wanted to share with you Part 2 of December,1997 (Teacher!Harry).
You can read Part 1 here as well.
Please, let me know what you think and if you want, like andreblog, it would mean a lot to me. Enjoy!
Warning: smut. Word count: 1217 words. Overview: Harry is a young, shy History teacher at Cambridge in 1997. When he meets Anna, his world turns upside down.
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December 14th , 1997.
Days went on, weeks went on and his love for his job grew bigger, too. He loved what he was doing; he was glad to have to chance to do what he loved for a living and he was also glad he was doing it in the best way he could. Actually, it wasn’t just his job making him happy. He refused to admit it to himself as well, but his interest in that girl had grown stronger day after day, and he honestly did not know what to do with it. Moreover, he did not know if he felt guiltier about that more than how horny he felt about her.
“So, what’s with this girl?”
“Mh?” he raised his eyes from the book in his hands to look at his roommate and best friend Louis, who was smoking a cigarette, sitting on the orange armchair in front of his fireplace.
“The girl, the one in your History class, the one you constantly talk about, Harold. What’s with her?” he clarified, giving him a distracted look.
“What’s the question Louis?” he sighed, remaining in the same position, with a book in his hands and his glasses still on.
“Did you fuck her?”
He widened his green eyes and instantly blushed, pretending to bring his attention back to the page of his book. “I did not…do it with her, Louis.”
“Well, when are you going to fuck her?” his blue-eyed friend asked, letting a puff of smoke come out of his lips. Harry hated the smell of smoke, and he had told Louis several times, but he was stubborn as hell, so he had grown used to that, somehow.
“I am not going to bed with my students, Louis.” He murmured slowly, turning the yellow page with his long, thick finger.
“Whaaat?” Louis looked at him as if he had just told him the weirdest theory on earth. “What are you talking about?! How old are you, fifty?!”
He raised his eyes from his book once again, now sitting straight to face his friend and look into his eyes.“No, I am not fifty, Louis, but I am twenty-seven and she is nineteen and she is also a student, while I am a teacher.” He said, looking dead serious, with his eyebrows furrowed and his glasses still on.
“So what? It’s not like she’s fifteen. She is nineteen and I am sure she wants to have a good fuck with the teacher too.” He counterstroke, as if they were having a tennis match with words.
“I am a teacher, Louis. This is my job, it would be against my ethics and I could get fired and what if-”
“What if, what if” Louis said, imitating his deep, raspy voice, as he rose from his armchair, holding the cigarette in his hand. “Fuck ethics, Harold, fuck all the ‘what ifs’. You worry too much about every little thing and that is probably the reason why you’re so shy, and, still a virgin, too! You need to relax and take things as they come!”
“I worry too much? You do not worry at all, Louis! Do you even think about consequences sometimes? Do you have any idea of what could happen if…If I did it and someone found out?” he rose from the couch as well, furiously throwing his book on it.
“It’s not like you’re gonna have to write it on the fucking wall, Styles! You need to relax and stop jerking off in your room thinking about her!” Louis said cheekily, before taking one more drag from his cigarette.
He widened his eyes and opened his mouth in shock, his words almost coming out as a little whimper, despite his low, deep voice “I do NOT-”
“Oh, please, Harry! These walls are thin and you are loud.” he finally said, shaking his head with an insolent smile on his face.
Blushing, he looked at him for a few more seconds before clenching his fists. “Fuck off, Tomlinson.” He murmured, letting out a nervous sigh as he turned and slammed the door of his bedroom after getting in it.
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Arguing with Louis had always been among the things that put him in a bad mood the most. Not only because he was his best friend but also because, most of the times, the things he said during the arguments, were right. It’s not like Harry didn’t know he was right, it was just that, most of the times, we struggle with admitting things to ourselves more than how we struggle to admit things to everyone else. However, things were not always so easy and straightforward, and mostly not so easy to deal with. Not from his point of view, at least. Louis had always been more easy going, while he had been the shy one, concerned about everyone and everything. Maybe he was right, though. Maybe he needed to relax and let things go the way they should, without trying to keep an obsessive amount of control on every little situation. But for Harry, it was not that easy, especially because this situation could have had some serious consequences and, moreover, he couldn’t go to her and tell her he had had a major crush on her since day one.
That night, his head was heavy and aching from all the thoughts going around it, and he needed some relief. And not only because he was thinking too much but also because the bulge in his pants had become extremely visible and so painful that it was hard to ignore it anymore. Ever since he had met her, he had been thinking about her every night, slowly sliding his hands in his boxers, wrapping it around his cock and stroking it till he came hard, moaning her name. That night was no exception. Often, he would think about her sitting on top of him, riding him till they both came, moaning each other’s name. This had been his most frequent fantasy ever since she had spoken about her theory about powerful women and their effects on men. She was right; he thought: most men were afraid of powerful women, mostly because they knew how easy it was for them to take control and blow them away. He had always been fascinated by powerful and clever women, and the fact that this young girl had basically given him a half speech about that on his first day as a teacher, had turned him on in such a way that he couldn’t keep his hands off his cock for too long without being ridiculously horny.
“Oh, Fuck. Fuck me…” he whispered, biting his bottom lip as his hand moved furiously on his painfully hard cock, before reaching his third orgasm that night, thinking about her riding him. His cum came out in several white spurts, making a mess on his shirt, as he let his head rest on his pillow. He closed his eyes and sighed.
He really needed to do something about it. But how could he? It was so wrong so…not him. Furthermore, he had never been with a woman before and the thought of being with her both scared and excited him more than anything else in the entire world.
