Chapter Text
“Don’t forget that you all need to complete the assignment before your class period tomorrow,” Grace says as the bell rings and all the students start to stuff their papers into various bags and, to his grimace, pockets. “If you have any questions, you can email me or message me on the school website.”
He feels rather out of breath as he sits back in his chair and waves bye to the students who shyly tell him goodbye. They’re all obviously apprehensive to the sudden change in teachers right at the beginning of their semester, but a coup hasn’t been staged, so Grace can only assume he isn’t doing too terrible of a job.
He’s actually kind of proud of himself for keeping it together. He’s gone over the previous teacher’s plans for the semester and found himself disagreeing with some of her methods, so he altered a few things here and there to better suit his own plans, which thankfully seems to have gone over well with his students.
In fact, he would say that today’s been a good day, and he smiles as he stacks up a few papers and then tosses them into a drawer without keeping mind of where he’s putting them, since he can’t be bothered.
He shifts in his seat and his breath hitches when he feels his pussy rub up against the inner denim of his jeans.
Or, well.
It’s been a good day aside from that.
His face is hot and itchy as he crosses his legs and tries not to moan. The sensation of the denim is on that side of just too rough, especially against his sensitive cunt, which feels vaguely sore from how hard he’d been using his own fingers to fuck himself.
Just the thought alone is enough to make him scrub at his cheeks. He can’t believe he did that. He definitely needs some professional help, and so with a sigh, he gets up and starts to pack his backpack.
He needs to get home quickly so he can take a shower and change. He feels gross and his thighs are sticky from both his sweat and remnants of his slick, which makes his face burn as he turns around to leave, only to nearly jump out of his skin as he realizes someone's blocking his way.
“Knock knock,” Rocky says, belatedly tapping his knuckles on the doorframe as he leans against it and smiles at Grace. It's so unfortunate how handsome he is, because just that grin alone is enough to make Grace's insides clench with anticipation. “You're not leaving already, are you?”
“Oh,” Grace says, fidgeting with his glasses and straightening them even though they don't need to be straightened. Crap. Why does he always act like an idiot in front of this guy? “Sorry, I… it's been a long day.”
An understatement, if that, Grace thinks darkly as Rocky makes a small noise of sympathy.
“I understand,” he says easily, and he looks so effortlessly cool that it kind of makes Grace want to beat his face in with a stick as he lets his coat hang off his shoulders and stick his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “But you survived, and that's pretty impressive considering how terrible of a class you have to teach.”
Grace can't help but huff in amusement. “Not a biology person?”
Rocky flashes him another smile, this time bigger, and Grace seriously regrets inviting more conversation because of the way his heart almost leaps out of his throat. “Definitely not. It's all squishy, gross human stuff… though I guess some parts aren't that bad.”
There's an intent behind his last few words, one that Grace can't pick up on exactly. Whatever it is, it has Grace subconsciously taking a step back, because is Rocky - is he checking him out?
No way.
But it’s unmistakable. There’s a gleam to Rocky’s gaze as it sweeps down and over Grace’s figure, and it’s scandalous how hot it is. Even worse is it feels like his eyes are burning Grace’s skin, like his hands are rubbing over every part that he looks at, and Grace bites his lip when he realizes that Rocky’s gaze is lingering at the waistband of his jeans.
There’s no way that Rocky knows, right? He can’t know that Grace was so affected by him that he literally fucked himself in the janitor’s closet only a few hours prior, and he can’t know that he still hasn’t found his briefs, right? He can’t know that Grace’s pussy is almost chafed raw and puffy inside his jeans… there’s no way.
“Yeah,” Grace says after too long of a moment where he pretends not to squirm and Rocky pretends not to notice. “Gross… squishy… stuff. Um. If that’s all, then I should probably get going.”
“Oh? Have plans after work today?” Rocky asks, falling easily in step with him as Grace tries to rush out of the classroom without any luck.
“No,” Grace says with some amount of shame. He doesn't want Rocky to think he's some kind of loser, but smelling that faint, lingering scent of cigarette smoke is taking up so much of Grace's brainpower that he can't even come up with a decent lie. “I have a date with Grey's Anatomy but that's about it.”
“I get it, McDreamy's hair is impressive,” Rocky says in amusement, and Grace wants to die. “But if that's all you were going to do, the rest of the staff and I were wondering if you wanted to go out tonight? Woops!”
Rocky reaches out and easily grabs Grace's elbow to stop him from faceplanting into the floor when he stumbles over nothing.
“Wh - me? You guys want me to - really?” Grace says ineloquently, feeling rather stupid as he tries to adjust his glasses, but realizes he can't because his one free arm is still held in Rocky's solid grip. Oh, fuck. Grace's thighs feel warm again.
“Call it a celebration for making it through the day,” Rocky says warmly, and he gently lets go of Grace, who both mourns the loss of the touch and is also incredibly relieved by it. “So?”
Grace hesitates.
“I would,” he says slowly. “But I don’t really - er. I rode a bike here, and it wasn’t exactly for health reasons.”
Rocky smiles, and something about it makes Grace shiver.
“That’s fine,” Rocky mutters.
“I’ll take you for a ride.”
If there’s a hell, this must be it.
The inside of Rocky’s car is covered in black, buttery leather and the faint scent of his cologne mixed with cigarette smoke. It’s not nearly enough to be overpowering, but just enough to tickle Grace’s nose and have him desperately squeezing his legs together.
“You okay?” Rocky asks, sounding genuinely concerned when Grace adjusts the seatbelt for the fifth time in a row.
“Yup,” Grace says in a high-pitched voice.
He can’t bear to even look over. He’s pretty sure his brain already tried to leak out of his ears earlier, back when Rocky slid into the driver’s seat and patiently waited for Grace to buckle in before backing up. He did it with one hand, is the thing, and had looked so hot doing it that Grace hysterically thought that surely it couldn’t be legal.
This might be the end of me, Grace thinks miserably.
At least he had the forethought to tuck his sweater underneath him before sitting down. While Rocky’s driving is smooth and steady, they encounter more than a few speedbumps along the way, and with each one, it’s like some sort of primitive and hellish torture of his poor, weeping cunt.
It’s awful.
Grace is so close to coming that by the time Rocky pulls into the lot for the bar, Grace is noticeably breathing harder and also bit on his lip so many times that surely it’s an obvious red color.
“Excuse me!” Grace yelps as he quickly leaves the car and practically sprints for the building.
Christ.
The inside of the bar is loud and a bit crowded for a random Wednesday night, but Grace is more concerned about the fact that he can’t stop thinking of the way Rocky was looking at him in his classroom, or the way Rocky’s eyes kept glancing down before making their way back up.
Did - did Rocky see? Was Grace’s pussy simply so wet around him that it soaked through his jeans and made the outline of them that obvious?
It makes Grace want to keel over and die, and he knows that his colleagues probably have unkind thoughts about him as he immediately beelines for the bar and blurts out, “tequila, and double it, please,” without pause.
“Don’t forget you have work tomorrow, Dr. Grace,” Principal Stratt says ominously as she glides past him and settles herself into a booth.
“Right, sorry,” Grace says weakly as he takes the glass the bartender slides him and gulps it all down. He only winces a little bit before he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and says, “can I get another?”
“Don’t go puking on my floor,” the bartender says, but she obeys and pours the same amount as before.
“No promises,” Grace mutters. Just as he’s about to take another sip, he nearly chokes when someone leans into the counter next to him, and the almost sweet smell of cigarette smoke mixed with something rich and spicy instantly causes his knees to feel a bit weak.
“Whiskey, neat,” Rocky says politely to the bartender.
She nods dumbly. Her brown eyes are wide and she turns around quickly to grab a bottle off the shelf. When she spins back around, there’s a smile on her lips that wasn’t there before, and she’s actually popped the top two buttons of her shirt.
Grace thinks unkind things about her, like how he hopes she starts to bald before she turns 30, and then he realizes that she has to be around his age, which makes him bite his lip as he takes in the top of her cleavage along with the way she subtly pouts at Rocky.
“Here you go,” she says, and she pours his glass of whiskey right in front of him, sliding it forward so that when he reaches for it, their fingertips brush. “I hope you enjoy.”
“Thanks,” Rocky says blandly, and he plucks the drink from her hand so he can take a sip. He turns to face Grace, completely ignoring the bartender’s offended noise, and he says, “how crazy was your first day, Ryland? Did the gremlins make you question your career?”
Grace is jerked out of shooting the bartender the fish eye as he gives Rocky a sheepish look. “No, no, they were all great. Listened well and didn’t stage a coup or anything. I’ve just been a bit uncomfortable.”
Grace doesn’t know why he let that slip. He thinks he can blame the majority of it on the alcohol, which makes his foot in mouth disease even worse than it usually is.
“Uncomfortable? Is everything okay?” Rocky says. “You seemed a bit jumpy in the car, too.”
It’s so strange. His words are ones of concern and kindness, but there’s just something about the way he talks.
Grace can’t get enough of his voice, honestly. It’s shockingly smooth and almost musical despite what must be a prolific smoking habit, and even worse than that, Rocky’s eloquent enough that it makes Grace want to melt into a puddle and die. It’s not often that someone who works in STEM is so articulated, and Grace should know, considering he’s part of the majority that can’t string words together most of the time.
But there’s something different with the way Rocky talks to Grace specifically.
There’s an intent there, and it makes Grace feel dizzy.
“I think my nerves are just frazzled,” Grace mumbles into the rim of his glass. He’s not drunk, exactly, but what he’s feeling isn’t being tipsy, either. He has a terrible inkling that the fuzziness in his blood and warmth in between his legs are to be solely blamed on the man next to him. “It’s been a long day.”
“I can imagine,” Rocky says, waving off the bartender when she drifts closer with more of the whiskey. She scowls and when Rocky takes a second to sip at his drink, Grace glares at her. She seems offended and flips him off before stalking away, and Grace wants to call her something that would definitely offend every person in a ten foot radius of him. “Can’t be comfortable with how damp you must be.”
Grace whips his head to stare at him, all thoughts of the bartender flying out of his brain as he dumbfoundedly takes in the way Rocky simply continues to drink like he didn’t just say something incredibly, psychologically damaging.
“Wha - I beg your pardon?” Grace sputters.
He’s going to pass out, or throw up, or cry. Or maybe some combination of all three.
Does Rocky know?
Does this mean Grace isn’t crazy, and he really is that obvious?
This is so humiliating. This is terrible. It’s Grace’s worst nightmare literally come to life, so then why is he so fucking wet?
Grace chews on his already raw and sensitive bottom lip as he tries to subtly cross his legs, but all it does is make the damp seams of the jeans rub up against his clit, and he almost jumps at the pleasure that curls inside his stomach.
“It’s been really warm lately,” Rocky says, his tone casual and not at all indicating anything more as he gently sets down his now empty glass and slinging a crooked smile at a fully stunned Grace. “The heat wave’s insane. You must have been sweating a lot today, right? Isn’t that the reason why you took your jacket off? Because it’s hot.”
It’s hot, Rocky’s mouth lingers on the last two words, and Grace swallows a whimper.
“Yeah,” he manages to get out, his tongue dry and desperate to rewet itself on Rocky’s lips.
“It’s hot.”