[MA] So, need an "A"? [Andrija]

[Vuk Drašković]

"Ya better remember this shit since it'll be on yer test next week."

The Serbian turned around to look at his class only to grimace, watching his students not only sit and stare, but at how a certain, particular one refused to pay attention at all. Out of all the thousands of students this shitty school had, why'd he have to get one of them in his class?

Let's not skip over the fact that the kid was gorgeous. It was almost disgusting at how attractive they were... for a kid.

For a Croat.

For a boy.

Vuk shuddered at the thought before gritting his teeth, absolutely disgusted at how he'd be attracted to so many horrible things in one being. However, one must not dwell on such thoughts--especially on a student. So... he began to do what he does best: take it out on kids.

"Ej, 'course there's the last quizzes t' hand out from Wednesday, yeh?" the man said with a snort, reaching behind his desk to pull out a handful of graded papers. "Y'all did fine this time, but ya better all do well on th' test... I want a good paycheck."

He stopped in front of the Croat's desk after striding around the room to pass out their grades, however, and glared down into pale, green eyes. "You. Ćurković. See me after class," the man growled out, slamming the quite obvious "F" down onto the boy's desk. It was only a matter of seconds before the bell rang, and the Serb finally tore his gaze away from that damned thing only to turn and give everyone their scores before they all rushed out, cursing all the while.

[Andrija Ćurković]

[/i] be.
And yet there it was, right in front of him, as it always was.

With a soft sigh of irritation, the teen waited until the room had cleared and turned his attention reluctantly back to the Serb, crossing his legs and beginning to twirl his hair faster.
"You and I both know there's nothing wrong with my answers, so what the fuck is it you want this time?" Short and businesslike, and in denial as ever. He refused to believe this flaw was of his own doing-- he just simply could not be failing something.[/font][/ul]

[Vuk Drašković]

Once the other students had left, Vuk immediately closed the door, with it naturally locking as it shut, of course, and walked over to lean against the front of his desk with a grimace. Did this kid get it at all? It should be pretty damn apparent why he made the grades he did.

"Well obviously ya need to learn yer history," the man sneered--as sarcastically as he could, in fact. "It's because yer a Croat. Drop my class if ya don't wanna fail. Simple as fuckin' that."

If only it were that simple.

Naturally, he would've just given the brat to someone else, but... Not only was he not really able to do so (and believe it, he tried), but it was fun enough just to make the poor kid miserable. That, and some sick, twisted part of him actually wanted him to stay.

"But since I'm the only teacher and I know ya want th' credit... Guess yer jus' gonna have t' work harder, yeh?" he said with a grin.

Fuck yes. More misery. Is he brilliant or what?

[Andrija Ćurković]

[/i], huh? Then maybe I should find someone who actually knows how to teach it.[/color]" he hissed, nails drumming on the desk in agitation. "Because to me, throwing tantrums about whether or not Kosovo is truly Serbian to a room full of people who do not care hardly passes as 'teaching'."

With a brief flip of his hair, the teen raised a thumb to his lips and bit at it as he looked away, still mumbling. "Would if I could in a heartbeat, you piece of shit."

Once again tuning out the other brunette, Andrija began mulling over his current situation. If working his hardest wasn't hard enough, then the grade was clearly out of spite-- it had to be that he was more or less failing because he was Croatian.
And he could not fail.
Failing meant angry parents, and angry parents meant...
Blinking, he lowered the hand he had unconsciously raised to his cheek and bit his lip. There were other ways of doing this-- there had to be an easy way out.

Something like blackmail.
But, then, he didn't really have anything he could use against him, and a nag at his mind told him it would probably backfire anyway.
Maybe he could figure out hacking and change the grade himself; he doubted that Neanderthal knew his way around a computer. But that would take time and effort he didn't really want to waste.

And then as the Serb spoke once more, the switch flicked-- there was something else, and they liked to call it 'fair exchange'.

...if only the thought didn't disgust him as much as it did. It probably would yield just as useless results as anything else, anyway.
...but, at the same time, it never hurt to test the waters. Hey, he wouldn't have to go all the way, or so he liked to think-- just far enough to get a nice big 'A' followed by a circle of shame that wouldn't really matter as much as the actual grade.

"...hmmm... work harder? I still disagree," with a sudden shift in tone, lowering his voice to little more than a sultry purr, the Croat stood and leaned against the desk with a curious tilt of his head.
He felt like an idiot.
He probably even looked like one-- he was already mentally bracing to be laughed at.
But now that the idea had drilled itself into his head, he somehow couldn't stop his hand from reaching forward and tugging harshly on Vuk's belt buckle, pulling him closer with a predatory grin. "But if I may ask, what would that entail...?"[/font][/ul]

[Vuk Drašković]

Once Andrija started to talk, the teacher immediately stopped paying attention. His stubbornness began to sink in more and more to the point that he didn't even really care anymore, and he just snorted and looked away. But then when he heard that comment about Kosovo...

The man's fist slammed down on his desk at that, letting out a loud breath of a curse, seething. That was pretty damn low, but tch. He deserved it, didn't he? No, he doesn't deserve shit! No one says that kind of bull in his class, much less just in front of him.

Before the Serb could snap out a comeback (after rambling on and on about what he'd do to the poor kid) he was yanked close--and by there of all places. Vuk blinked a bit, stunned, and then narrowed his eyes at the display before him in curious observation.

He was close.

It was close.

...That's bad, right?

His mind slowly began to process it all, but once he heard that silky smooth voice begin to speak once more, he began to lose it. Suddenly the Croat seemed so... so incredibly attractive. But fuck, wasn't he just a kid? And a male, for that matter?

Peh, close enough.

"I don't know what yer planin'..." he began, reaching up to grin the boy's chin. "But keep talkin'. Heh, I'm sure we could work somethin' out..." And with that he slipped his other hand down and gripped the other's wiast, pulling him closer as well. Two could play at this game, couldn't they?

[Andrija Ćurković]

[/i]-- it appeared he'd been pulled closer as well, and the sudden proximity coaxed his breath away for a moment out of shock. No angrily shoving him away, no insults?

For whatever reason, that made Andrija absolutely delighted. A flood of butterflies began to populate his numb stomach as his mind went blank.
He had no idea what to do... how to continue. He'd never done such a thing before (contrary to the apparent popular belief).
All he knew was that so far, he quite liked it.

The grin curved outward into a Cheshire-like sneer, and feeling rather victorious, the Croat buried his face into the crook of Vuk's collar, slowly running the tip of his nose up rough skin while a hand worked on unzipping that obnoxious jacket of his.

"Mn... I wanna make a deal with you, Vukky." the smaller male cooed, hand now sneaking under other exposed clothing as he ghosted his lips along the shell of that ear. "You know what I want, and it's pretty obvious what you want." With his free hand, he grabbed the Serbian's and methodically placed it on his own ass to further emphasize his point. "So I wonder if we could trade?"[/font][/ul]

[Vuk Drašković]

Shit shit shit. Everything that was happening went against every moral he had, but… why didn’t that bother him like it should? But then again, who would be able to think at all when the kid was touching him in such ways? The light teases and tugs at his clothing made his brain completely shut down for a good minute, blinking dumbly.

Once it had all clicked the man leaned forward to rub a cheek against his, baring his teeth all the while and letting out a feral growl in warning. Andrija obviously wanted something from him, no doubt about that… but going as far as trying to seduce a teacher? However, that hand on the boy’s rear certainly didn’t help in the least bit.

Nor did those long, slender fingers that trailed up his front.

God, this kid was like a succubus—enchanting, lovely, pulling him in. Typical. That’s just like all the other damned Croats out there… they’re all snakes. Serpents out to tempt and take what they wanted after watching their prey deteriorate and fall in their hands as if it were nothing. And yet…

“Tch… Trade?” The Serb hissed in frustration and gave that sweet ass a squeeze before trailing a few bites down the other’s neck, his other hand snaking down to grope him as well. If this is what he wanted, then so be it. “Not sure if ya can take it, bre.” And with that he pulled him closer still, both hands now cupping each cheek of his backside, giving him a slow grind.

[Andrija Ćurković]

[/i] was too easy.

No different from any other man, I see.

But he wouldn't complain, if it brought him a step closer to passing-- if Vuk was easy, then he himself was selfish above all else.

However, when the man's mouth met his neck, he couldn't help the reflexive tip of his head as a sound like a small purr caught in his throat, a deep flush tinting his face. His hand slipped in surprise, nails gently scraping all the way back down his muscled abdomen, and he shook his head with the intent of clearing his mind. It didn't work much.

That wasn't supposed to happen... he wasn't supposed to enjoy it.

The Croat grit his teeth in annoyance at himself; if he was flustered, he wouldn't be able to stay focused on the goal of it all. But the more Vuk gave back, the less he could suppress the involuntary little sounds coming out of him-- a whimper, a sigh, all directly in the other's ear, while his fingers idly worked on unbuckling his belt for him.

He didn't want his utter frustration at this inner dilemma to show, but registering the Serb's words, this sudden onslaught of lust began to mingle with the everyday desire to piss him off. Red-faced and pouting, Andrija momentarily pulled away, propping himself up on the desk behind him and wrapping slender legs around the other's waist, reaching up to carefully take his hair out of its usual tail.

"Not sure if I can take it...? What, you won't be gentle with me?" he teased softly, successfully hiding another grin as he shook out his silky mane. "Ah, well... I bet you're all talk anyway. I'm not too worried."[/ul][/font]

[Vuk Drašković]

God... was this real?

Not that he wanted it to be... tch. He hated everything about the little snot, but... this unadulterated lust just seemed to drip from his very being, his heart feeling like it'll burn a hole in his chest. He was excited, but for what?

And then those long, lovely legs wrapped around him and he immediately, unconsciously, licked his lips in delight.

So this was why.

"Gentle?" he snorted, crawling over him in an instant. "Like fucking shit I'd be gentle with a lil' shit like you."

Vuk then bared his teeth in a dark grin as he loomed above him, resting a hand upon the desk while using the other to reach out and grab a handful of chestnut hair, running it through his fingers gently one moment before yanking him upward the next. "Still want that 'A', kid?"

[Andrija Ćurković]

[/color]" the Croatian crooned, crossing his legs neatly around the other's hips. "If you bruise me up, someone's going to notice, wouldn't want you to get fired..."

His smugness stopped short, however, upon feeling fingers thread into his hair, and for a moment a pleasant shiver shook his skin-- that is, until a sudden, violent tug jerked him upward, completely catching him off guard. He hissed, blinking furiously to smother the tears that had immediately sprung at the pain (how dare he mess up his lovely hair, anyway?).

Glaring with as much venom as a pout can manage, the smaller male wrapped his arms around Vuk's shoulders, nails sinking into all the exposed skin they could find.
"As much as you want to fuck a minor," he murmured haughtily before biting at the man's lower lip. "Dirty old pig."[/font][/ul]

[Vuk Drašković]

The Serbian gritted his teeth in delight, letting out a hiss as pain prickled at his shoulders. God, was this thrilling. He coiled his own fingers into the boy's side, harshly jerking him closer. The hand gripping the Croat's hair slackened its hold, dipping down to caress his cheek with false gentleness as he gritted out a response.

"Tch... Then I'll jus' have ta bruise ya where they won't see, yeh?"

He couldn't help but scoff at all of it. The kid was disgusting yet gorgeous, and he could hurt him as much as he damned well pleased... even if it really just seemed to mask his true intentions.

But what would those intentions even be? Did he really desire to do such a thing to the kid...?

"This 'ol' pig' is gonna rough ya up real good, Hravti," he snarled, grinding against him once again.

Yeah. Yeah... he definitely wanted this.

The man then harshly pushed him down, eyes narrowed, lips curving up in a mischievous smirk. He finally had him underneath him, slender legs about his very waist and all, glaring at him with those beautiful, rebellious eyes. Fighting the urge to spit at him, he instead leaned down to smash their lips together, furious with how much he craved to do so.

He wanted nothing more than to have the Croat crying--screaming--beneath him. So, what's better than doing just that?

[Andrija Ćurković]

[/i] this.

But before he could even ensure he'd left some nice dents, he found himself being pinned, unamused stare now directed upward. As he parted his lips and struggled for some sort of insult, Vuk's mouth crushed against his own and his train of thought immediately followed suit in collision.

His whole body seemed to flush, and simple logic told him he couldn't possibly not kiss back-- biting, tasting, running his tongue over every inch of the other's mouth as if he'd been starved; and in a sense, he supposed until now, he had.

Andrija only briefly broke contact as things started to make sense out of that moment to just stare at Vuk, dumbfounded, mulling over whatever he was feeling right then. If it had gone from annoyance to that needy, that desperate...

Then, in a sense, perhaps this was something he'd wanted subconsciously for a long time.

Still blushing and panting like the idiot he'd never wanted to be, the Croat turned his eyes away and began to claw lightly at the man's back again, sickened with how close he was to begging.
"You stall too much, can't you just get it over with...?"

( ohgod this is awful and not worth the wait at alllll ;; )[/ul][/font]

[Vuk Drašković]

Fuck... fuck fuck fuck.

This was wrong. This was wrong on way too many levels. He needs to turn back now before anything got too out of hand--before he did something that he'd regret...

And yet he couldn't think clearly when nails dug themselves into his skin to scratch at him, sending blissful sparks of sharp pain down his shoulders and back. It was too much, wasn't it? But it's all exactly what he wanted. Andrija, face flushed, panting, willing. It was a beautiful sight, as much as he hated to admit, and the good thing about it all?

He could be as rough as he wanted.

"Stall? I dunno what yer talkin' 'bout, kid..." he said with a sneer before pulling away, unbuckling his belt as slowly as he could.

Beg for me, Hrvatski. Beg... I want to see you on your knees.

The Serbian gently plucked the boy's thighs from him, reaching over to then yank the other's slacks down, slipping them down and off each leg with a leer. He's almost there, so close to taking him right then and there! If only he could just rid him off all these damned clothes... and so he did just that, throwing those god-forsaken pants well across the room.

Letting out a soft groan, his eyes roamed over those now-bare legs, and he couldn't help but lick his lips. They were smooth... lovely, tanned. Vuk shivered a bit before reaching over again, getting a good hold on him and flipping the poor boy, grasping his hips with a grunt of annoyance. That underwear? Yeah. It has to go.

The Serb's grip on his hips softened as he took a good look at Andrija's rear, smoothing a thumb over a clothed cheek, smirk coming back full force. Panties? Really?

"Fuckin'... Ya really are a fag, ain't ya. Dress like a woman often?"

Not that that really bothered him. The soft fabric seemed to suit the kid, to be honest... but now really wasn't the time to admire them. He only had about half an hour to do all of this, didn't he? With a snerk he pulled them down partially, trapping the Croat's legs and keeping them in place. Might he say, it was quite a pleasant sight. Grinning, the man slapped his well rounded ass with amusement, letting out a chuckle.

This was going to be fun.

[Andrija Ćurković]

[/i] for it, even, but he was above such things-- being apathetic by nature, it was easy for him to disguise what he really meant.

"I know you have nothing better to do, but I don't have all damn day," he hissed breathlessly, pale eyes following the Serb with a poisonous glare. Just who did he think he was, toying with him like this? "Hurry up."

To his dismay, he was unable to do much more than lay there passively as the man undressed him, and his gaze gradually lowered in intensity until he shyed away, cheeks tinted a shade of red that couldn't possibly have been invented yet. It only served to irritate him more to watch his nice pants be discarded in such a careless manner, but he couldn't be bothered to complain under such observation.
Under his clothes, the boy already had a fair share of bruises overlaying his otherwise flawless skin-- having older brothers would do that. It wouldn't look too out of place if the Serb kept his promise of bodily harm.

When finally he grew tired of the leering, Andrija opened his mouth to grumpily urge the other on again but was interrupted by the world suddenly turning over, knocking his breath away as he landed on his front this time. Again, he inhaled to complain, only to be cut off once more-- this time by a comment on his choice of undergarments, which gave rise to another blush. So what if he found them comfortable? It wasn't as if he ever expected anyone to see until now.

"I just come prepared..." he shivered with a barely audible purr at the touch of the man's thumb, despite lying through his teeth. "You seem to like them. Quit getting distra--"

The Croatian teen was then utterly horrified by the sound that escaped him upon being slapped-- something like a yelp and a heavily restrained moan.
"...don't fucking do that," he snapped, biting into one of his own fingers to hide how mortified he was. "You had your fucking fun, just fuck me already and get it over with, you sick fuck."

Only seconds later did he realize he probably should have thought before he spoke.[/color][/ul][/font]