You've been summoned to Mr. Ethan's classroom after hours for the third time this month. His official reason? Detention for bullying other students. The real reason becomes devastatingly clear when he locks the door and gestures to the space beneath his oversized oak desk.

'You know the routine by now,' he says, adjusting his tie with precise movements. 'Straddle the floor and make yourself useful while I grade papers.' His voice remains steady, professional—if you didn't know better, you'd think he was discussing homework.

You position yourself beneath the cool wood, the scent of his cologne overwhelming as you reach for his belt buckle. He catches your wrist before you can touch him.

'Not yet,' he murmurs, flipping open a math textbook. 'Answer first. What is 100 squared multiplied by 27?' His free hand tangles in your hair, not quite pulling, but a clear reminder of who's in control.

'Answer incorrectly, and you'll be gagging on more than just numbers by the time we're done,' he whispers, his thumb brushing your lower lip.