Breaking The Rules MxM

"I summoned you here, Mr. Cartwright because of the strings of complaints I'd received from the parents of the students of the twelve graders about the mass failure recorded in the last Literature test. I trust your father must have told you all about our school's commendable reputation and how we treasure our grades than anything else.

Bless his heart, I'd like to know though if you're encountering any difficulties since the beginning of your temporary appointment here so I can...see where I can help out." Principal Churchill droned, lifting a perfectly manicured finger to stop her glasses from falling over the bridge of her stubby nose.

I wrenched my attention from the office's monochromatic features and trophy case filled with awards the school had won to the fierce unsmiling lady watching me with a neutral gaze, her eyes narrowed. Shit. I hadn't been paying attention at all.

"If you don't mind Ma'am, I was thinking – "

"Mr. Cartwright." She interrupted me, drumming her fingers on the desk and consulting her brown leather watch. "I'd like you to know I have more important things to attend to so it'd be best you saved me my time."

"Yes, well..." I trailed off, feeling trapped in a tight corner. "The students are the cause of their failure Ma'am. They've simply refused to be attentive in class and threatening them with detention is considered a bluff. I've tried all I can and was about telling you about it before the test – "

"It seems to me that you haven't established your control over the class which is why they've refused to take you seriously."

"Well, students are always disrespectful to teachers..." I laughed nervously.

"I take an exception to that, Mr. I previously taught biology before my appointment as a Principal ten years ago. It all depends on your demeanor in your first class with them. I have cause to believe you'd been playful to gain their trust and the disadvantages are exactly what you're passing through right now."

"I'd only wanted to be friendly because I thought it'd make the class fun for everyone."

"That's a weak excuse," She sighed, leaning back on her swivel chair. "Need I remind you that method is outdated? Students are wild these days and the best way to combat this is to stand your ground as a stern teacher and instill discipline where necessary."

"I – "

"We're done now, Mr. Cartwright." She motioned at the door dismissively. "I've got a meeting with the school council in five minutes. I trust you'd think over what we'd just discussed and find a way to avoid such an unfortunate occurrence in the future. You may leave now."

"Thanks, Principal Churchill." I got up and snailed my way out of the office toward the outer boy's bathroom. Anger, humiliation, and self-loathing whooshed through my soul, creating an itch of desperation I wanted to scratch away so bad.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

At any rate, I may not be renewed as a substitute teacher next school session and my dad stood a chance at losing his job unless I pull my shit together and assert my authority over the students with the hopes of transforming them into attentive human beings. To add to my list of misfortunes, this little mishap made Principal Churchill delay my salary till the middle of the month to see if there'd be an improvement in my Literature classes with the twelve graders and we had just received a notice that we were gonna be kicked out of our apartment if we failed to pay before the end of next week. Father's medical bills had not been handled and I was falling apart from all the pressure.

Also, my girlfriend of six years since we both left high school fired me a breakup message through text this morning telling me she found someone much better and that I and my broke arse could go to hell for all she cared.

So for the first time in six years, I was heading home without a pussy waiting and I was in no mood to head out to the nearby club for a hookup.

Rock. Meet. Bottom.

When did it all go wrong?

I could tell you when – right after I accepted this stupid job, that's when.

Teaching wasn't a career option I'd considered during my childhood. It was the worst profession ever and eight years ago, right after I started high school I got accepted by NHL and was about to fulfill my lifelong dream to become a professional footballer. That was what my father had wanted for me and I'd worked towards it my whole damn life. I'd won trophies just as big and glassy as those in Principal Churchill's office for the school and I'd been the rave of the moment, the guy every girl wanted but never stood a chance to have because they were deemed an unwelcome distraction.

I was scheduled to play for the big games shortly after graduation. When I said my goodbyes to my family and waved at them from the security point at the airport, they'd told me to take a dive. Fifty-five minutes into the match, I literally did. Dived and almost got my balls damaged from the strong force with which the ball hit me in my bid to stop it from entering the net.

That small accident not only killed my career dreams and lifelong plan by inflicting me with a phobia for football but also rendered me useless that by the age of twenty I'd sunken into a great void of depression. After three years of sulking, feeling sorry for myself, and seeing a therapist, my dad got into a really bad accident that left his car wrecked and a few limbs broken. His hands and legs were all in castes and there was no way he could teach with those, so I volunteered to be his substitute till he got back on his feet and passed the short test Principal Churchill gave me to test if I was truly worthy of the position. I thought it'd be a fun challenge because my dad did it. My grandmother was a teacher. Everyone in the family loved teaching.

For a while I did. Now I hate it with every fiber of my being.

This was my second-month teaching and judging by my performance, my last month at All Saints High in Todos Santos, California. Principal Churchill was one of the most influential women in town and her polished bitchery was infamous to its indigenes. And she absolutely despised and thought me unworthy of the job from the get-go. There was no use trying to impress her. My days here were numbered.

As I approached my beat-up jalopy parked across the aisle from her Highlander and her new boyfriend's Range Rover (Yeah, she divorced her husband two years ago for obvious reasons and she gets to bang a new man every week. Seriously, what sort of example is she setting for her son? Won't she deflate her giant-sized ego and either get back with her hubby or settle down?) It was none of my business though. I needed to get home and update Father on what happened today.

Fuck my life.

Fuck today all the way to Sunday and back.

Fuck Principal Churchill's boyfriend for being such a blind dunce.

Choking my steering wheel and gasping in horror, I gripped the steering wheel tight, weighing the gravity of what I'd just done. Shit. Shit. SHIT! The hunk of a man sprawled in front of my jalopy, eyes closed and unmoving didn't leave any room for doubt. I'd single-handedly sabotaged and ruined my last shot at a career prospect. Worse still, I'd become a murderer.

Oh god.

Ignoring my fight-or-flight adrenalin probing at me to hit the gas, assume an alias, flee to Mexico and change my name to Rico, I reluctantly got out of the car and trudged to the body still lying stiff on the floor. I knelt beside it, dipping my head to listen to his faint heartbeat.

How was I ever going to pay for the funeral? Was there a chance he would live if I rushed him down to the hospital? Principal Churchill was going to kill me.

Everyone couldn't help but be up to date with Principal Churchill's love life. The lady was a hypocrite, not permitting sexual relations between teachers or allowing their spouses to visit the school premises but she allowed her boos to walk the school property whenever they pleased. That's how we got to know who the new boyfriend of the week was; they always visited her in school.

But the man lying right in front of me couldn't be more than twenty, around my age but much younger. He fell out of pattern for Principal Churchill's preference for sexy, old baldies, leading me to believe he was either a sibling to a student or just some random passerby.

I pushed the blonde silky locks that fell over his eyes back and cussed in horror.

No fucking way. Principal Churchill's eldest son!

"Oh, no, no, no..." I chanted breathlessly.

Before I had cause to inspect my supposedly dead accident victim anymore, I was whirled over with my full back on the interlocked floor. Strong, capable hands struck out on either side of my head, cerulean blue eyes pinning me in place with a hypnotic glare.

I'd only seen Ryan Churchill in a picture in Principal Churchill's office – a gangly teen with dirty blonde hair with a face blotchy with big pimples. But the Ryan Churchill scowling as he took in every feature of my face was a stark contrast to that picture. The real-life and very accurate version of Ryan Churchill looked like a lovechild of Ryan Gosling and Brad Pitt, and I'm not making this shit up. Wild, blonde, shiny hair styled back into a low, neat bun, piercing blue eyes and the lean muscled body of a sex god. I probably should be sued for noting the warm press of his manhood against mine and the electricity that contact left me with but it wasn't really my fault. Besides, I'd known I liked cock for some time now so that should be a good enough excuse in this situation. It was one of the main reasons why Sarah dumped me aside from the fact that I was eternally broke. I just couldn't get the damn thing up for her anymore. Ryan was a walking, talking cliché of a prom king in a 90's movie. I bet it wouldn't be so hard for him to woo even the very married and faithful Cardi B and risk a rift with a very jealous Offset.

He leaned in close so his breath tickled my cheek as he fitted his face in between my neck and the side of my face. He hummed softly as he bit on my earlobe, nibbling it aggressively in such a way that had fireworks erupting in my pants. My cock responded as he slid his tongue out just a little bit.

Fuck.

I pushed him off and got to my feet at the speed of lightning. What the fuck was he doing back there?

Now with his back on the interlock, he shot me a lopsided smile as I took in his dressing. He was wearing a tight blue Henley shirt hiked up to display his taut pecs glistening with sweat, slim dark denim, and high-top shoes that cost more than me and my dad's old jalopies put together and looked so expensive and tasteless you just knew Louis Vuitton personally designed that himself. His biceps heaved admirably as he got to his feet, dusting himself off. His symmetrical nose was broken, an imperfection that made him all the more tempting.

Well, it seemed Pretty Boy had no limbs broken, thank goodness. Otherwise, I might really be taking up that idea of Mexico a few minutes back.

"Well, I'll be a monkey's uncle." He had me halting in my sick attempt to flee the scene. I whipped back around, flushed and annoyed. His goddamn face exploded into a sly grin as he held up my glasses. I sighed in frustration as I marched up to retrieve them from him. He raised it up an inch, mocking my shorter height capacity and I groaned, practically jumping now to snatch it.

"Give it back!" I hissed at him, Veins rigid and nose flaring. He pursed his lips and arched a perfect brow.

"Is that an order, Mr. Cartwright?" He was leaning against my jalopy now and shifting my gaze to his arm on the old, crumpling metal, I noted the contrast between them. More insult to injury.

"You're not above commands, Ryan. Hand over my glasses or you won't like what I'll do next."

"Is that a threat, huh?" he shoved his face in mine and I gasped, stumbling back when our lips grazed against each others briefly. A thrill spread from my lips down to my ever-excited cock pushing against my boxers with all its might. I glanced down at it and Ryan's eyes followed mine. Quickly, I turned away. Too late, he'd already seen the boner.

Fuck, fuck, I'm screwed.

"Damn, I'm flattered." I heard him whisper slightly behind me then felt his warmth hit me like a tidal wave as he reached out to cup my cock through my slacks. I moaned as he squeezed gently, then pushed him away.

"No..." I choked out, shaking my head as though to shake off the pleasure. I couldn't. "W-What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He asked, lifting the hem of his shirt to rub his perfect six-pack, stretching lazily and yawning at the same time. "Seems like you've got the hots for me, Mr. Cartwright. Just like I do too."

Wait, what?

"I..." I cleared my throat, looking around to make sure we were truly alone and trying my best to conjure up a picture of my Grandma in tees in a bid to deflate this embarrassing semi. "You...you like me?"

"Pretty sure you heard me the first time. Yeah, I fancy your booty and your lips, and by extension I fancy you." He kneeled down and swiped his tongue at my cock standing tall and erect and at full attention given Ryan's antics. "Why don't you let me handle this little man at the back of your wackjob, just for the next five minutes?"

Ryan was neither a student of this school nor one I'd come across during one of my interview classes a few years back when I first attempted making teaching a career. There was no way we'd come across each other physically and this was the first time I was setting my eyes on him since my appointment here in his mother's school. He could never like someone he hadn't met before. That's not how the universe works.

Maybe he wanted to blackmail me?

In my heart and mind, I considered myself a respectable teacher with a moral compass, but my body considered me a self-absorbed hypocrite incapable of giving in to his natural feelings and preferred living a lie to facing the truth head-on. My body wanted Ryan. Badly. Since the minute I saw his Pretty Boy face in that picture in his mother's office. I could allow him to lead me to the back of my jalopy and gift me the best blowjob I'd ever had in my entire fucked-up existence, but here comes to play the debate between right and wrong and my heart and mind's domineering influence over my thought process.

In other words, I preferred to play the respectable teacher with a commendable moral compass, much to my body's chagrin.

"Ryan..." I sighed, clutching onto the gold anchor necklace hanging around my neck.

He shook his head in disagreement, raising his hand up in objection. "So, I caused that. Shit happens. Let me help you take it away."

"No, thank you. I'm perfectly capable to deflate a boner by myself." I spat at him. Jesus Christ, this kid was impossible!

I didn't know what game he was playing. I just knew he was probably better at it than I was. So, undermining my manhood and in very true Sammy Cartwright fashion, I turned around and walked straight back into my car, essentially running away from the situation like the little dickhead I was.

"Whoa, not so fast, Sir." He chuckled as he grabbed me by the waist and spun me back around into his body built like a wall.

Damn, I could feel every part of him just by being in his arms. It felt frightening...and so right.

No, this is wrong!

"Where do you think you're going?" He growled, reaching out to grab me by the elbow and spinning me flush against his hot body, my boner hitting his. "We're not done here."

My eyes slipped down to his pink lips that looked unbelievably tempting right now, butterflies somersaulting and throwing a wild party in my stomach. The intense need rippling through me was crippling.

Oh, God.

I was hot and bothered by my top enemy number one's son. Only that Ryan wasn't only just Principal Churchill's spoilt bun. He was also a twisted angel sent to cut my short days in this school even shorter.

There was gossip in the hallways of Royal Elite, a horrible incident confirmed by my father even, when I asked him. Ryan Churchill, while still a student in Royal Elite slept with a female teacher and got her pregnant. Mummy Dearest, blessed with a heart of stone threw her weight about and falsely accused the teacher of seducing Ryan and had her locked up for weeks, despite the latter's claim on his mistake. The lady was fired and it was revealed later that she'd gotten rid of the baby too and was now in England, set to get married to a Scottish poet. To avoid bad publicity, Principal Churchill pulled her darling son out of Royal Elite not minding that he had less than two months before his final examinations, and shipped him off to Penn.

Ever since then, no one had ever seen or heard anything about him. The female staff was fired and male employees were installed. Principal Churchill never considered that her son could be bisexual.

I wouldn't blame her though. No one had their sexuality stamped across the forehead. I should be focusing more on how Ryan Churchill grew so bold and confident as to wish to give me a blowjob at the back of my old jalopy when we were just meeting each other for the first time.

Ryan almost made me feel as uncomfortable as his Mom did, and even more. The difference between Mother and son was that Principal Churchill made me feel afraid and stupid, while Ryan probed at my most sensitive spot. It seemed as though he could see through me through his ocean-deep blue eyes, and that made me feel... embarrassed. A youngster isn't supposed to make me feel this way, I'm older for Christ's sake!

That could be because I stalked his social media profile the minute Father rounded off the tale about the pregnant teacher. And there were tons of his pictures, either shirtless or only on transparent boxer briefs and I could see his model-worthy dick through the thin fabric. I jerked off to thoughts about him and imagined his cock slamming into me whenever I fucked myself numb with a dildo.

Creepy? Yeah, I thought so.

"I said I want to get rid of that," he gestured downwards at my pants and my dick responded with a painful nod, pre-come spurting out a bit. He swiped a fingertip over the wet spot and pinned me with a dirty smirk as he brought it up to his lips.

I gasped, turned on to Cloud 9.

Why was he demanding such an outrageous thing? And why the fuck did I care? I'm the older one out of us both. I'm more mature not to let my hormones hold me back from doing what's right.

Or maybe I should give in and let me suck me off? And pretend afterward we hadn't met at all?

What if that doesn't still ward him off and he keeps coming back for more? What if Principal Churchill found out and have me jailed? We were currently risking an evacuation notice back home and this job is the only silver lining we have not to be rendered homeless.

I had so much to lose from this. While Ryan had... nothing. Mummy Dearest might have him shipped off to America and get him a bride to satisfy his urges, while I'd stay back here and rot.

If he were a student, I could have worked it out that maybe he needed a better grade. But even if that happened to be the case, Ryan's brilliance was unequaled. No student, no matter how bright and promising they thought themselves would be able to break his GPA record. He was that perfect kid with the perfect face and the perfect grade.

Even his cock was perfect.

Now he was out of college, I'd guess the next thing on Mummy Dearest's to-do list was landing him a top position in one of the most famous firms in Todos Santos (Yeah, she's that connected) while Ryan himself fucked his way into some sort of a man-whore Guinness Record. He barely had to lift a finger to fend for himself. His entire life was golden.

While mine wasn't even copper. The universe is so unfair.

"No, thanks," I said, gulping. "It's past dismissal and your Mom might be waiting. I have to get going too, please step out of the way."

I made to walk past him and this time he didn't intercept. I was clueless as to what his intentions were and it felt like I was digging a hole. A hole in which I would dump a whole lot of dark shit that'd land me in hot trouble. Like the biblical Job, I'd landed myself the top spot in the devil's list, and he would do everything in his power to make sure I sinned.

Tucking myself into my jalopy, I fled the devil. From the rearview mirror, I watched him hike his shirt up and pat his packs once more, cocking his brow in a challenge. My cheeks flamed as I looked away and thrust my feet harder on the accelerator, my russet hair transformed into a dramatic blow-out by the time I guided the vehicle into our driveway.

After I relayed how the day went to Father (without telling him about the meeting with Principal Churchill or her son, of course) I slouched on my bed, phone in hand, waiting for Principal Churchill to call and tell me she saw Ryan and me and she was firing my arse for getting turned on by her innocent son, and also suing me and Father for every penny we had. Or in this case, didn't have.

Dusk came around like clockwork but the call never came. I closed my eyes till midnight, but sleep eluded me like the plague. All I thought about was the gorgeous asshole, Ryan Churchill.

How he looked like the hottest guy ever when he licked my come off his fingertip.

How he looked like the most delicious thing in the world when he rubbed his tan six-pack.

How he came close to pushing my buttons this afternoon. If I'd stayed a minute longer I'd have given in.

After the meeting with Principal Churchill, I'd made up my mind that nothing would cause me to have any personal dealings with the Churchills.

But after this afternoon's encounter, there was no denying it. There was at least one Churchill I wanted to have very personal dealings with.