CHAPTER 1: DREAMS, DESKS AND DIRTY THOUGHTS

DREAMS, DESKS AND DIRTY THOUGHTS

His hands were everywhere and his kisses were like fire, burning with passion. Blake ran his hands over Ethan's body before pushing him hard, pinning him against the locker. The cold, metal surface bit at Ethan's skin through his shirt but he didn't mind it. 

He wanted to push Blake away, but the quarterback's arms were strong, holding him in place. Before he could react, Blake's tongue was already entwined with his, his right hand moving from his neck to his hair. 

“You like this?" Blake muttered under his quickened breath as he shoved his other hand under Ethan's shirt, pinching his nipples. 

Ethan gasped as he pulled Blake's head back, soft moans escaping his lips. “Shut up,” he whispered, voice trembling. His body betrayed him - hips shifting forward, hands finding Blake’s waist.

Ethan could feel the jock's toned body under his hoodie and he wanted so much to run his hands over the chiseled muscles, feeling every curve. Blake chuckled softly, pulling Ethan back gently as he stared into his eyes. 

“Who knew golden boys could get this dirty,” he whispered as he bit his lips. 

Ethan smiled, his lips parting to reply when he heard a voice from a distance suddenly call his name.

"Ethan Sanders!"

The voice jolted him awake.

Ethan sat up in his seat, pushing his glasses up as he brushed his face with the back of his hand. His eyes shot up to meet Mrs. Durham’s narrow gaze.

“Oh, crap," he muttered under his breath, slumping back into his chair as he realized the entire class had turned their attention to him.

He had slept through class… again.

"Ethan Sanders," Mrs. Durham called again, her face squeezing into a little frown.

"Yes, ma'am," Ethan answered as he tried to compose himself… and ignore the hard-on straining through his khakis.

“Would you do the class a favor and tell us about the Socratic method?" she asked, her hands resting on her hips as she leaned against her desk. There was a stifled giggle from one corner of the room, but when she glanced in that direction, it immediately stopped.

Ethan did know the answer - he had gone over that topic last night. But he couldn't get up. His hard-on was still very visible, his dick cut sharply against the thin material of his trouser.

He wished now that he hadn't worn his new trunks to school.

"The Socratic method–" 

"Stand up, young man," Mrs. Durham cut him off, her voice rising as her frown deepened.

"Shit," Ethan cursed under his breath as he adjusted his glasses for the umpteenth time. He carefully placed his hands in his lap and stood up slowly, trying his best to hide his hard dick under his desk.

"I'm listening."

Ethan gulped hard as he tried to keep calm despite the heat rising up his chest. He leaned forward, his hands covering his crotch as he composed himself.

"The Socratic method is a method of philosophical approach that uses questioning and discussion to stimulate critical thinking and uncover hidden assumptions," Ethan said, spewing out the same words he had read on the question the night before.

Mrs. Durham blinked, her face void of any emotion. Sighing, she ran a hand through her long hair with and muttered something under her breath, just loud enough for the front row to hear:

"Of course, the smart kid gets it right."

She sat up straight, taking a stylus from her desk and moving over to the smart board.

"Sit down, Mr. Sanders," she said as she wrote onto the smart board a broader definition of what Ethan had just answered.

Ethan quickly sat back down on his seat, adjusting his trousers up as all eyes shifted back to the board. The blood from his hard dick had begun rushing back but was now rushing to his face instead, his cheeks flushing.

“Back to what we were saying," Mrs. Durham continued. "The Socratic method of approaching…" 

Mrs. Durham's voice trailed off as different thoughts began running through Ethan's mind. The dream… he could still feel Blake's wet lips and his strong arms wrapping around his waist. 

Worst of all was the fact that the same person he had just dreamt about, sat just two desks away from him. Ethan dragged his gaze to where Blake sat and his face reddened. 

As if knowing Ethan was staring, the jock suddenly turned and their eyes met. Ethan's flaccid dick immediately hardened again as Blake grinned at him, but the feeling vanished just as quickly when he saw Blake’s hands flipping him off. Blake’s grin faded, a scowl replacing it as he turned back to the board.

“Fucking bastard,” Ethan cursed, shifting his attention to Mrs. Durham. 

How could he have let one stupid dream make him forget just how much of a dickhead Blake really was? The shit-for-brains had ruined his project just last week, and now he was having wild thoughts about him?

“Idiot," Ethan said, rather too loudly this time… or just loud enough for Blake to hear. 

“What did you just call me?" 

Ethan raised his head, his eyes widening as he found Blake standing from his desk, his fists clenched and his brow arched. Had he really been that loud? 

“Sit back down, Mr. Thompson,” Mrs. Durham's voice cracked, jolting a sleeping Brandon awake. 

Blake’s jaws clenched, his fists tightening as his gaze refused to shift from Ethan's. Ethan, who still remained seated, couldn't look away even though his guts twisted with fear. 

“Sit back down or you'll both find yourselves in the principal's office,” Mrs. Durham said, her voice firmer this time. 

Blake bit down at his lips before snorting and plopping back down on his chair. Smoothing his jacket, he turned back to the board. 

Ethan swallowed, his hands shaking as he brought his gaze to the floor. This feeling was new, strange - and it threatened to consume him whole. A part of him hated that he felt this way, but another part… craved Blake even more.