Your Flawless Looks and Soulful Eyes

One out of one.

I pushed the door open and walked in. As it slammed shut behind me, the whole classroom went silent. Hurriedly I walked over to my seat, completely ignoring the English teacher who was standing in front of the class making notes on the white board. I sat down by my desk, located by the window and started flicking through the pages of my English book.

"You're late," the male Scottish accent stated in a low voice. As if I didn't already know that.

"Yeah, I know," I muttered in response, still looking down on my text book. I knew that he was standing right in front of my desk, but I couldn't bear myself to look up at his perfect features. Because once I did, I'd be spellbound by his beauty. That's how handsome he was; one single glance and you couldn't take your eyes off him! Or that's how handsome he was in my eyes.

"And why is that?" he demanded, still keeping his voice low so that only the two of us could hear. I shrugged and started doodling patterns in my notebook with my pencil. "You are twenty minutes late for class and you don't know why?"

"You see Mr. McDonald, I was late, people get late sometimes, it happens. It's not like it's the end of the world. Would you please mind? I'm trying to get some work done here," I said frustrated. It was so frustrating having a crush on a teacher that was twice my age, perhaps even more. A teacher that most likely was going out with someone already and, with my luck, probably as straight as can be. Of course I wanted him to like me, but even I, the guy with his head up in the clouds, realized how ridiculous the whole situation really was. So I simply gave up even trying to get him to like me before I even started.

I could tell by his body language that he was frustrated when he walked over to the teacher's desk to get something and then came back to me in definite steps. He placed a slip before me that read 'Detention'. I froze. This was completely new to me, I was a good student and never got myself into trouble. Never! My mouth fell open as I stared down at the nine letter word on the paper that was followed by the time and place for the event.

"Don't worry, you'll have plenty of time to catch up on what you missed in detention, Mr. Donningham," he spoke with his perfect voice.

"Exactly why am I having a... detention, sir?" I asked with a frown, still staring down at the word. I didn't like the sound of that word, it made me sound like one of those irresponsible students that don't give a shit about school. I wasn't one of those students, I liked learning new things and get to meet my friends every day.

"You were late and instead of telling me why you decided to be insolent," his definite voice explained to me. He sounded rather offended which made me feel bad, I didn't want him to dislike me.

"I'm sorry sir, I didn't realize I was being rude," I said embarrassed. I realized that I hadn't looked at him one single time during the whole lesson. That must be a record.

I sighed deeply as I stood outside the classroom door where the detention was being held. I didn't know what to expect, probably seeing some enraged rebellious teenagers sitting around lazily in the room, chewing gum, listening to music, doodling or whatever. What I didn't expect to see was a classroom that was empty apart from the teacher sitting by his desk sorting papers.

"I'm glad you decided to come," Mr. McDonald looked up from his desk with a brief smile. My heart skipped a beat. He was far too perfect, he shouldn't be a teacher. He should be a model so that everyone could see and get amazed by his beautiful features. Or even better; an actor, that way people would be able to hear his perfect voice and witness the charisma of this extraordinary man. "It shows that you take responsibility for your actions which is a good quality."

I snapped out of my train of thought and my steel blue eyes locked with his soulful chocolate brown ones. It felt like he could see right through me. I finally managed to lower my gaze and I walked over to take a seat by one of the desks by the window on stiff legs.

"You can do homework or whatever, and don't hesitate if there's anything you need to ask," he told me and I began to rummage through my school bag for something to occupy myself with. I decided to try starting writing on my latest English task. I sighed as I looked down at the assignment paper the class had gotten earlier that day. We were supposed to write a poem. How could I possibly write a decent poem now when I was feeling so nervous?

I looked around in the room for inspiration, my gaze finally landing on Mr. McDonald. I loved the way he styled his dark brown hair; not too tidy and not too tousled. He was frowning slightly in concentration as he flicked through the papers, making notes here and there. He was wearing a white dress shirt and a black tie hanging loosely around his neck along with a dark gray blazer and matching gray trousers. I liked the way he dressed, it looked good on him and not as formal as it does on other people. On the other hand he could probably make anything look good.

All of sudden he looked up from his papers and I quickly turned to look out the window, blushing slightly as I was, making sure to look like I was thinking about what to write. Maybe now you understand why I was being so careful not to look at him in English class. One single glance and I can't get enough. It's so distracting being in the same room as a man with such good looks. It's frustrating really. He makes me frustrated. Sometimes I think that I have the right to be angry with him for being so perfect and so out of my league.

I hate the way you make me feel and convince myself that you're not for real,
Your flawless looks and soulful eyes, revive those God damned butterflies,
You wake a desire that can't be treated, I'm no good at love so I sink down defeated--
I picked up the paper and creased it into a ball. What the heck was that? A love poem for my English teacher? What the hell is wrong with me?

"How's it going?" He was standing right in front of me. When did he get there?

"Um... not well. I'm no good at writing poetry," I replied trying hard to avoid looking directly at him.

"Oh come on! You're one of my best students, of course you can pull off writing a poem," he said encouraging. I smiled to myself, he just said that I was one of his best students. Maybe he didn't hate me after all. "Do you mind if I read?" I was about to object but it was too late. I was blushing in a deep red color when he put the paper back on the desk, hoping to God that he didn't realize that it was written about him. Of course he didn't, why would he even think of something like that?

"I think it's a really good start, I don't understand what you mean with being no good at poetry. It's really good, Jacoby." Did he just call me by my Christian name? I liked that, it made it feel much less formal.

"Th-thanks sir," I stuttered nervously. "But I don't know really, it feels kind of..."

"Queer?" he filled in for me laughing. "I know, many boys feel like that about poetry these days."

"I don't think it's queer, I just... don't feel comfortable writing poems," I explained to him, my eyes fixed on his belt buckle.

"Oh, I understand. What kind of music do you listen to? Pretend that you're writing the lyrics for a song, maybe that way it will get easier," he said taking a step closer, making me realize where my gaze was. I quickly looked away blushing like a maniac, hoping that he hadn't noticed. "Jacoby, are you alright?"

"Y-yes sir, just a bit... distracted," I managed to say. All of sudden my mouth was awfully dry.

"Are you sure that you're fine? You seem a bit feverish." He came even closer and placed his cool hand on my forehead. It felt so good. "You're really hot, would you like to have a glass of water?" He just said that I washot, not in that way of course, but still!

"Yes please." I caught a glimpse of his arse pressing against the gray fabric as he walked over to the sink at the back of the classroom. Let's put it this way; I really liked what I saw.

"Here you go," he said with a weak smile and I almost drowned in the depth of his eyes as they met mine. He carefully put the glass down on my desk, our eyes still glued to each others. All of sudden he leaned in over the desk, his face only inches from mine and I could feel his hot breath as it hit my face. I followed his every move in trance, totally forgetting about how to breathe.

"You shouldn't hide those beautiful eyes behind your hair like that, Jacoby," he said softly, sending shivers down my spine. I swallowed and smiled insecurely back at him as he brushed my golden brown hair away from my face.

The clumsy, awkward person I am I managed to ruin the perfect moment by accidentally hitting the glass with my elbow, causing it to crash to the floor. Glass shards were spreading along with the water across the floor. We both bent down at the same time to start gathering the broken glass from the pool of water and we immediately froze in our movements and our eyes locked once again.

It was just like one of those cliché moments you see in movies. The tension was thick in the air and I thought I was dreaming when he slowly leaned in towards me until our lips touched briefly. He parted my lips with his tongue and let it enter my mouth. I deepened the kiss, wishing to God that this moment would never end. My eyes shut and our tongues fought for dominance, I could see the fire sparkles and feel the rush of unbelievable happiness and excitement as it filled my veins. I placed my hands at the back of his head and pulled him closer to me. We were kissing passionately until I finally lost my balance and we both ended up lying on the floor, him on top of me. He smiled widely at me as the kiss finally broke.

"Never has the forbidden fruit tasted so sweet," he said with his perfect velvet voice before pulling me into another heated kiss.
♠ ♠ ♠
This was my first attempt ever to write a slash...
So I'd really appreciate if you left me a comment to let me know what you think.
Thank you so much for reading! <3

Love,
Frida.