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I slid the vice principal a look from the corner of my eyes, the corners of my mouth titling up in a smile. He certainly looked bored as he sat there, flipping through his newspaper. He also looked a bit funny with how oddly he had to sit to fit well at the student desk—I don't know why he wouldn't sit at the teacher's desk. My eyes slid to one of the other students in the room: my friend and partner in crime.

Though, really, we weren't criminals. We were hardly even hooligans. We just happened to have a knack for attracting trouble, and thereby attracting punishment as well. That knack for trouble is what landed us in the oh so pointless "Homework Club". I don't even know why it was called that. It wasn't like anyone that ended up in the would-be club ever did their homework in the daily hour-long punishment that occurred during lunch.

I set down my book—a dictionary-thesaurus—sliding it across to my friend, and picked up my pencil. We'd rehearsed this well. We knew exactly what we were going to do to spice this boring hour up and make the vice principal really earn his money. My friend picked up the book, scanning the pages I'd left it open at. He bit his lips, tossing me a nervous glance as he swallowed hard. He wasn't ready to do this, but he would be as soon as I started the ball rolling.

"....How do you spell "ejaculate"?" I asked thoughtlessly as I quickly worked the pencil across my paper. I could feel all eyes on me, but I didn't look up from my writing.

"....What's "ejaculate" mean?" my friend asked. I paused in my writing, sliding him a look. That wasn't part of our rehearsal. Was he ad-libbing? Did he forget what he was supposed to say?

"...Look it up, stupid," I said, frowning. I could feel our audience suddenly grow tense as my friend began flipping through the book, looking for the page.

"Ejaculate....ejaculate.... E-J-A...C-U-L-A-T-E...." my friend said, spelling it to himself more than to me.

"Thank you," I said, quickly returning to scribbling on the paper.

"Here we are! Found it!" he sang out. I paused again as the air only grew even more tense. Hearing a squeak from my friend, I slid him another glance and caught sight of the wide eyes and furious blush that now made up his expression. "....Th....That's...interesting," he said, forcing out a weak laugh as he quickly flipped to another page.

"....How come I know what it is but not how to spell it, yet you know how to spell it when you don't know what it means?" I asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

"That's interesting," he repeated, quickly flipping through the pages to find something to take his mind off that topic. Too bad the rest of our little show would make it hard for him to forget. My eyes fell back to my paper and I began writing again. After several minutes, the air was no longer tense and everyone had returned to whatever they were doing. Time to strike again.

"What's another word for anus?" I asked. Again I could sense as all eyes moved to me, wondering what the Hell would make me ask that.

"Ass," my friend said, not even looking for the proper entry in the book.

"I want to use a nicer word than that," I stated flatly. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and went flipping through the pages.

"Let's see....there is bottom...buns..buttocks...fanny...heine...keister...posterior—" he started listing off all of the given synonyms, but I cut him off.

"Posterior! That's the one I was thinking of!" I declared. I began to scribble on my paper furiously, acting extremely intent and focused. Again I allowed many minutes to pass so that everyone else would go back to their business, and then I struck again.

"In reference to semen, would "cum" be spelled as C-U-M or C-O-M-E?" I asked, twiddling my pencil between my fingers as I stared thoughtfully at my paper. I distinctly heard the vice principal choke at this one, showing that I was, indeed, hitting closer and closer to a nerve. Perfect.

"Um....the first one?" my friend guessed, looking up at me with uncertainty.

"I thought so," I replied. I quickly began writing again. This time I had to wait a good ten minutes before everyone was settled back down and trying to pretend they weren't curious as to what I was up to.

"....Is "anal sex" one word or two?" I asked, pausing in my writing again. This time the vice principal finally lost it.

"What the fuck are you doing over here?!" he screamed, jumping up and snatching away both my pencil and paper. Without waiting for an answer he quickly looked at my paper, reading what I'd been scribbling down all this time. Of course, all that I had been writing was "Homework Club sucks." over and over.

"Hm? I'm not doing anything," I said, looking utterly innocent and surprised that he had flipped. He very, very slowly looked up from the paper, a deep blush painting his cheeks maroon and his breathing growing labored as he narrowed his eyes and drew his mouth into a tight line.

"You think you're really funny, don't you, Rip?" he asked, sounding like he had his teeth tightly gritted and his jaw strongly clenched.

"Not at all. I think you're hilarious, though," I said, offering up a cute little smile.

"You will see me after school," he growled out, thrusting my paper and pencil back at me.

"Oh? Is it a date, then?" I asked, my smile growing. I took my pencil and paper quickly, mostly for fear that he'd flip even more, stab me, and give me lead poisoning.

"It's a detention," he stated none too happily.

"Well, as long as it starts with a D and the third and fourth letters are a T and an E, I guess I'll come," I said with a little sigh.

"Would that "come" be spelled C-O-M-E or C-U-M?" my friend asked. I bit my lip but couldn't keep a snort of only partially thwarted laughter from escaping me. The vice principal slid his glare my friend's way, and my friendly quickly ducked behind the book.

Still with very labored breathing as he fought to remain calm, the vice principal quickly took his seat back up, burying his face in his newspaper. My friend and I didn't say anything else for the remainder of the hour, but we sure made a lot of noise with our badly contained snickering.

“…What on God’s green Earth are you wearing?” he asked. He looked deadly serious, and I had a feeling that it was taking a lot of work to keep a straight face.

“D’you like it? I really think that green is my colour!” I exclaimed as I gave a quick twirl to show everything off. His mouth twitched just a little, so I decided to go on. “I used to think I was a winter, but now I’m definitely thinking I’m more of a spring or a summer,” I gushed in a girly voice as I smoothed my skirt and struck a few subtle poses to show off my legs and (lack of) chest.

“You….” he started, but he quickly stopped when he heard his own voice begin to crack. I smiled widely, watching him as I waited patiently for him to make another attempt to speak. After a few moments, he swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and again tried to address me. “….You…you….YOU…..you….I have no words for you,” he said, first gesturing to me and then seeming to sigh heavily as he shook his head and lowered his hand.

Since he wasn’t going to freak out, I figured I might as well explain myself…and maybe push him a little further while doing so. “Awww! That’s so cute! I’ve left you speechless!” I exclaimed joyfully, waving my hand cutely. I struck another pose before flouncing over to one of the chairs in front of his desk and daintily sitting in it. Of course, I was only sitting daintily for about five seconds, at which point I pulled one of my legs fully onto the chair, putting my knee to my chest and giving him a nice view up my skirt at my lacey pink panties.

The only sign he gave of noticing was a raging blush that came to his face as his eyes went wide. “Well, I suppose I owe you an explanation,” I stated happily. I waited a moment, but he seemed to truly be speechless now, so I went on. “Just a couple of the kids from the Homework Club who enjoyed my little stunt bet me bucks that I wouldn’t dare try anything else to make you so flustered. And, really, even if it had been a plain old dare instead of a bet, I would’ve accepted. I’m not very good with self-restraint,” I chirped lightly.

He still seemed stuck on my panties, so I decided to go on and see what all I could say without him snapping at me. “I hear you’re really good at self-restraint, though. You’re a good looker for a vice principal, you know. I mean, I don’t know how old you are, but you’ve got to be over thirty, right? That’s not the point, though. The point is, I figure the girls here must be after you a whole lot, but I’ve never heard any locker talk of you giving chase or giving in to their chases,” I went on, sounding very much like a gossiping girl.

Still he wasn’t responding. Still he was staring at me. I frowned softly, looking him over closely now. “….You’re gay,” I stated, my leg slipping down so my skirt would cover me again. I wanted a response this time. He looked up immediately, swallowing a lump in his throat as he started breathing like he‘d just run a marathon. He was in no way calm. He was definitely turned way on.

“What’d you say?” he asked stupidly. Should’ve covered up before I’d said that. He hadn’t heard me.

I stood up suddenly and put my hands on his desk, leaning over and into his face. I paused for a moment, cocking my head to the side as I first looked him in the eye and then slid my eyes downward. “Oh my…. You’re not just gay. You’re gay and a fetishist,” I said, raising my eyebrows. He immediately slapped both of his hands over the rather large tent formed by his pants now.

I let out a laugh, moving my eyes back up to his face. “Oh me, oh my, but this is interesting. I expected a lot of reactions from you, but that large reaction in your pants was certainly not something I could have anticipated,” I all but sang, a cruel smile working its way onto my face.

“There is nothing wrong with being homosexual,” he growled, narrowing his eyes.

“I never said there was,” I said lightly as I pulled back now. I licked and pursed my lips, eyeing him once more. “…I just said it was interesting,” I said, my eyes landing on his blush and staying there.

“And just what about being homosexual makes me more interesting than if I were heterosexual?” he asked between gritted teeth.

“Oh….I don’t know…” I said slowly. As I spoke I trailed around his desk and behind his chair, walking my fingers along the top of the back. “….Maybe…just that you…are….so much more….defensive,” I whispered, leaning down to all but hiss the last word in his ear. He all at once jumped up, slamming both the chair and me behind it back into the wall.

“That is enough! Take a seat!” he all but shouted, not even so much as looking over his shoulder to see if he had hurt me.

“Hmph. Defensive,” I pouted. Nonetheless, I quickly retreated back to the seat I’d originally taken. I crossed my legs this time, figuring he’d maybe hurt me if I did another panty flash.

“…Thank you. Now, on to your punishment…” he growled, taking his seat up again as well. Of course, being me, I couldn’t resist how he’d let that hang out there.

“Ooo. You’re a masochist, too?” I asked. He choked for a moment and then jumped up again, breathing raggedly now as he clenched both his fists and his jaw and glared death at me. I bit my lip, quietly wondering if he was also possibly a murderer.

“….You are not funny,” he growled after several minutes. Again he reclaimed his seat, seeming to have calmed down enough to breath normally.

“My humor just happens to be an acquired taste,” I replied lightly.

“It’s not a taste that I shall be ever be acquiring,” he returned.

“There’s an age limit. My taste isn’t one that can be acquired by anyone over twenty-five,” I said lightly. He watched me silently for a moment before his gaze fell down to his desk.

“Right then. Your punishment: straightening up the library with me supervising. If you don’t stop every five minutes to fool around as you are prone to doing, we should be out of here before eight,” he said flatly as he straightened his desk top up.

“Eight!?” I asked, gapping for just a moment.

“That’s only if we’re lucky. Knowing you, of course, we could be here well past midnight,” he said.

“What’ll my parents think?!” I exclaimed.

“That one won’t work on me. They’re out of town, and you know it. I did manage to reach them nonetheless, and they said this punishment was more than fine. They also say any future punishments are A-OK, so you won’t be able to pull that card any time in the future. If you have any other questions, feel free to ask, but nothing you ask or say will get you out of this, Nemo,” he said lightly.

“I prefer Rip. You know that,” I stated flatly, scowling as I stood up now.

“I do know that, and I do call you that during normal school hours. After school hours, however, I am technically off the job even while still here, and I therefore do not feel the need to accommodate you in any way that pleases you,” he replied.

“So, basically, you’re going to be an ass,” I stated flatly.

“Or, in preference to the words you use, I shall be a posterior,” he said, a not-quite-smirk coming to his face as he stood up.

“….Yeah, laugh it up, Mr. Rainbow Pride,” I grunted, turning and stalking towards the door.

“Should you really be calling name, Mr. Pink Panties?” he asked, following after me much more casually.

“It takes a real man to wear pink, and a real fine man to wear pink panties,” I tossed over my shoulder, sticking my nose in the air. I thought I heard him laughing quietly at me, but I didn’t take the time to check before ripping open his office door and strutting off down the hall.

“God, this is taking so long. Haven’t we been here long enough?” I whined roughly five hours later, “I mean, it’s past eight.”

“We’ll be here until tomorrow, if that’s how long it takes. I promised the librarian that we were taking care of his need to stay late and straighten things up like he’s been doing the last week,” the vice principal said simply. I glanced at him, scowling at the fact that he didn’t even look up from the book he was reading.

“….Fine. Get off your posterior and give me a hand, then. We don’t have any stepping stools,” I said. He glanced over his shoulder at me now, frowning when he saw that I did, indeed, need his help to put books on the top shelf. He sighed and rolled his eyes, closing the book and setting it on the table his feet were propped up on. He then frowned in my direction for another moment before actually getting up and coming over.

“Give me the books you need to put up there,” he stated flatly. I grabbed up three from a stack, handing them over to him. He quickly moved to put them on the top shelf, but….couldn’t seem to quite reach. I stood back now, arms across my chest as I watched him stand on the tips of his toes and swear under his breath as he worked hard to wriggle the books up onto the shelf.

“Aaaaaaalmost got it. Go on, try a little harder,” I urged him on, smirking to myself. After a few more minutes he successfully managed to get the three books onto the shelf. Quickly he turned around, crossing his arms across his chest like I was and arching an eyebrow in wordlessly question as to why I was still smirking. I was, of course, most happy to reply to the unspoken question.

I flounced over to him, striking a pose and pointing to the stack I’d gotten the three books from. “Now all of those need to be put up!” I declared gaily. He gave both me and the stack of books a dumbfounded look now, his arms immediately dropping to his sides.

“You’re kidding,” he said.

“I would never kid with you,” I replied, smiling brightly. He looked solely at the books now, seeming to be struggling internally over what to do. “I can’t reach the top shelf, so I can’t do it,” I stated, just in case he was wondering how he ended up being the one to do this work. His eyes turned back to me, the dumbfounded look being replaced by a thoughtful one.

“You can’t reach it at all….and even I have trouble reaching it by myself….but…together…” he murmured thoughtfully, eyeing me closely now. I took a step back, looking like I thought he might attack me.

“Unless you’re thinking of getting on your fours to be a human stepping stool, I don’t like where you’re going with this,” I said.

“You’re not standing on me. You’re probably heavy,” he replied flatly.

“Are you calling me fat?” I asked, glaring.

“I’m saying you may be in a skirt, but you aren’t a girl,” he said.

“The fact that I’m in a skirt is why I don’t like your idea,” I snapped.

“You’ve already flashed me everything under there,” he stated.

“There’s a difference between seeing and touching! I don’t want you manhandling me!” I exclaimed, taking another quick step away.

“I’ll be gentle,” he said, moving for me now.

“Keep back, pervert!” I shouted. I quickly backed up into and then climbed onto one of the tables, making a cross with my fingers the entire time.

“I’m just going to lift you up so you can reach the shelf. I won’t touch anything above your thighs, okay? Hell, I’ll just sit you on one shoulder, that way I won’t even have to touch you above your knees,” he said. He was still approaching me even as he spoke, putting his hands up in a sign that he wasn’t intending to harm me.

“For all I know you have a foot fetish!” I screamed out.

“We’re staying here for as long as this job takes, and you’re only making it take longer. The quicker you agree, the quicker everything will go. It’s not like anybody is missing you at home, or like we can’t work well into tomorrow. It’s your weekend you’re wasting, not mine. I didn’t have any plans, so I’m not missing out on anything except a few television shows,” he said, still coming closer.

I paused now, wondering if he really would keep me here all tomorrow. He did have permission from my parents, so he could keep me here all the way until Monday if he saw fit. I gave a soft something like a whimper off, lowering my hands but not undoing the cross I’d made with them. “….Nothing above the knees?” I asked weakly.

“…Well, I may put my hand momentarily on your back or thighs to steady you if you begin to fall, but, other than that, nothing above the knees,” he said. I stared another moment, both pouting and thinking. He seemed to be honest, but that didn’t really mean he was trustworthy. Still, something I did trust is that he’d keep me here until we were done.

I bit my lip, putting my hands to my side now as I thought a bit more. “….Fine. But if you drop me or feel me up, I’m going to tell,” I mumbled. He just smiled weakly and finished moving over, sidling up to the table so that I could sit right on his shoulder.

“You can sit on just the one, or both. Whatever makes you more comfortable,” he said.

“I’m not sitting on both. I don’t want your head between my legs, no matter which direction you’re facing,” I muttered darkly. I slowly edged over to him and then very slowly sat down on his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his neck and head to hold myself up.

“Alright. I’m going to wrap my arms around your waist and thighs now so I don’t drop you when I’m moving. When I get to the book stack, just lean down and grab up some books, and then when I move to the shelf after that I’ll release you. Alright?” he said.

“Yeah, alright,” I said, nodding my head. As he began to carefully wrap his arms around me, I couldn’t help but flinch, causing him to hesitate a moment. After he finally had his arms securely wrapped around me, he slowly moved away from the table and over towards the book stack. Very slowly and shakily I leaned down, crushing his arms between my legs and torso unintentionally.

Without warning he softly squeezed my thigh in an attempt to reassure me that he wasn’t going to drop me. I, of course, freaked out, jerked my body back up rapidly, and almost flung myself right over his back and to the floor. Thankfully, he quickly tightened his grip, spun around so that the side I was on was on the same side as the bookshelf, and stumbled sideways over to it, allowing me to grab on and keep us both up.

“Oh my God! I want down! Put me down!” I exclaimed in a rush as I clung hard to the bookshelf.

“Calm down! You’re fine! You’re not going to fall, and I’m not going to drop you! Just calm down!” he replied in just as much of an excited rush.

“I don’t like this!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

“Calm down and you’ll like it fine!” he screamed in return.

“I’m not going to like this ever! Just put me down! For God’s sake, I’ll push a table over or stand on a chair or something to reach the shelf, if you’ll just put me down!” I screamed. All at once he suddenly pushed me over the front of his shoulder, sliding me carefully down between him and the bookshelf.

“Hey, I didn’t even think of that. Brilliant idea,” he said, staring at me in awe. I stared right back at him, but my look was of borderline horror, not awe. I was also trembling and near tears as I pushed myself against the bookshelf, not wanting even accidental or casual physical contact between us anymore.

The awe quickly left his face as he took me in; realizing how upset I was, a bit of sadness came to his face now. “I’m sorry, Nemo. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just trying to make you feel better,” he said softly. He reached out to push my hair out of my face, but when I flinched he quickly rethought that action, deciding not to do that after all. “…You’re not so upset because you thought I’d drop you. You’re so upset because I touched you at all,” he stated more than asked.

“…Look but don’t touch. Never touch,” I whispered softly, lowering my head so that my hair would further hide my face.

“Why never touch?” he asked softly.

“…Because there’s never any need to touch,” I said softly after a moment.

“Your parents don’t even…?” he asked, trailing off since we both knew the rest of the question.

“…There’s never any need to touch,” I repeated softly.

“Never any need to touch,” he repeated as well. I nodded my head softly. He was silent for a moment, giving me time to calm myself enough that I finally dared peek up at him. “…So that when there is need to touch, the notion is so alien to you that it scares you” he said softly. I looked down again quickly at that, scowling a little now.

“I’m not scared,” I muttered.

“Alright, you’re not scared. But you are upset,” he stated.

“Duh. Just don’t touch me and I won’t be anymore,” I said, looking up just enough to send him a small glare, though he probably couldn’t see it past my hair. He sighed, nodding his head and he only just now stepped back so that I didn’t have to press up against the bookshelf.

“Right. Don’t touch. Self-restraint,” he said. He continued to nod his head to himself as he ran a hand through his hair, looking around like he was trying to locate the mentioned self-restraint.

I sighed heavily, tossing a look in the vice principal’s direction. He hadn’t looked up from that damn book for the last two hours. He hadn’t even acknowledged me when I’d taken the table right out from under his feet—he’d propped his feet up there again after returning to his reading—or when I’d not-so-accidentally toppled a stack on books almost right on top of his head. I’d told him I didn’t want him touching me, and somehow that had translated into me not wanting him to so much as look at me. Hadn’t I said “look but don’t touch”?

I sighed again, trying to get him to notice I was upset in a new way, but he still didn’t acknowledge me. It was time to go from hinting that I wanted his attention to taking it by force. “You wouldn’t be gayer even if a rainbow took you up the ass,” I tossed into the air, no clue what would come of it.

Nothing did come of it for several minutes, but then he suddenly snapped his book closed, sliding narrowed eyes in my direction. “I beg your pardon?” he said, not sounding very friendly. Great. I’d gotten him talking. Except now he sounded like he was back to his pissy little defensive self that I’d seen in his office.

“You’re gayer than the Trix rabbit. You’re gayer than My Little Pony. You’re gayer than my pink panties,” I said. Probably this wasn’t going to help anything, but as long as he was acknowledging me again, I didn’t mind.

“You’re the one admittedly wearing pink panties—not to mention the entirety of a girl’s school uniform—and you’re ragging on how gay I am,” he stated flatly, seeming to be unable to comprehend this.

“Damn straight. That‘s just how gay you are,” I said matter-of-factly. There was nothing but us staring at each other for several moments following that stated “fact”. After that, though, he was all at once on his feet and in my face, backing me up into the bookshelf and trapping me by grabbing onto a shelf on either side of my body.

“….You…you….YOU…..you….I have no words for you,” he growled, beginning to shake as he fought back rage. I, of course, was not intelligent enough to drop it there and get away without any damage to myself. I, of course, was stupid enough to plunge headfirst into obviously dangerous territory. I, of course, just couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

“Awwww. That’s so cute. I’ve left you speechless, again,” I said, smirking. I wasn’t smirking long before he grabbed my face with one hand, wiping the smirk right off it with that motion.

“You have no idea how close you are to trouble. You have no idea how close I am to just—Argh! Goddamnit! I just want to right now and right here—Sonofabitch!” he growled, still trembling and now breathing labouredly.

“You want to hurt me? Teach me a lesson for being such a bastard? Beat a little sensitivity and plain old sense into me?” I questioned. He swallowed hard and stared ever harder, fighting still harder to maintain what little self-restrain the had left.

“You have no idea. You have no idea at all,” he hissed. Releasing me and pushing away from me all at once, he shook his head to himself, still staring hard at me. “You think it’s so fucking funny to play with my gayness. You think it’s so goddamn hilarious to pick at my nerves over my homosexuality. You don’t understand at all what kind of territory you’re treading in, because you don’t belong in the territory yourself. Just because you’re straight, you think my not being straight is one helluva joke on me by God,” he growled.

I stared at him for a beat, no longer looking or feeling amused. “…Who said I’m straight?” I asked flatly.

“….What?” he asked, a second of confusion flashing across his expression.

“I’m asking you who told you I’m straight,” I stated.

“….Nobody,” he said after a moment of hesitation.

“Do you think a straight guy would dress in drag, even if it is to peeve off some adult they know? Do you think a straight guy, regardless of whether or not he likes being touched, would ever sit on the shoulder of another man while in drag, especially if they know that man to be gay? Do you think a straight guy would ever be able to spend such an extended time in drag without freaking out in some way or another?” I asked, my voice and face emotionless.

He looked extremely hesitant now, not wanting to say anything else that I would so flatly dispute. “…I….guess….not…” he said slowly. He was still watching me closely, but his eyes were no longer hard as he consider that I might be on his side, so to speak.

“…Do you think even a gay guy could do any of that very easily?” I asked, my voice very soft now as I bit my lip.

“You didn’t have to dress like that, you know,” he said. He didn’t seem to be angry any longer, but he didn’t exactly seem happy, either. Still, it didn’t matter how he seemed to be acting, as long as he was still acknowledging me.

“…Stupid. I wanted to,” I mumbled, looking off to the side now.

“…Why? Doesn’t it make you uncomfortable?” he asked.

“It doesn’t matter if it does… A lot of things make me uncomfortable, but I still do them,” I said.

“But not touching,” he pointed out.

“That makes me far more uncomfortable than these clothes do,” I replied.

“…Even so….why did you want to dress like that?” he asked.

“Isn’t it obvious? I wanted attention,” I said, turning my eyes back to him but not facing him.

“There are a lot easier ways to get attention from people,” he said, his eyebrows riding high above his eyes now.

“I don’t want attention from just anyone,” I stated flatly.

“Who, then?” he asked, frowning softly. I looked away again quickly, a blush tinting my cheeks to the same shade as my panties.

“…You really are stupid. That’s obvious, too,” I muttered.

“What? One of the boys that bet you wouldn’t try to further unnerve me? You like one of them? Maybe even that friend of yours, Nick?” he asked.

“….Forget it. You’re too stupid,” I said, suddenly turning around and beginning to straighten the books on the shelves again.

“No, not him. Just tell me who, if you want me to know so ba—” he started to say casually, but suddenly he cut off. I snuck a peek at him over my shoulder, actually watching as realization dawned on him. “…You…you….YOU…..you….” he trailed off, not seeming to want this to be another moment when he had no words for me.

“I left you speechless yet again, huh?” I asked softly, turning my eyes forward and then downward. All at once he was right up on me again, trapping me against the bookshelf and him with body and arms.

“I’m not speechless. I know exactly what I want to say. I’m not sure if you’ll want me to say it, though,” he said lowly in my ear.

“Just say it. It doesn’t matter what it is. Say anything—just say something,” I whispered, my hands flying up to grip the shelf alongside his hands. He didn’t say anything for a moment, putting together what he wanted to say perfectly in his head. Suddenly he moved his hands over mine, pulling both of our hands away from the shelving and wrapping me in an embrace from behind with both my own arms and his.

“I can’t say it. I can’t say it unless I can do it, too. You won’t want me to do it, though,” he whispered, sounding both desperate and pained.

“Say anything! Do anything! Just say or do something already!” I shouted, the blush on my face burning its way across my skin. I was trying hard not to freak out, and obviously not doing so well with that.

“That thing I said I was close to doing to you earlier…. Not….it was not hurting you… I was so very close….to kissing you…to attacking you… I’ve been so close to doing that to you a number of times too high for me to even count anymore. I am not saying this on the spot—rather, I am, but I’m not feeling this just on the spot. I’ve been feeling it, slowly more and more, for a long time. I have had self-restraint to keep myself in check with up until now….but not anymore. I’m sorry if you hate me after everything is said and done….but I love you,” he said very shakily and slowly.

An instant later I was whirled around and his lips were put to mine. He pressed his tongue between my lips and into my mouth, and pressed his hand between my legs and into me. My skirt went up and my underwear down as he progressed things a lot faster than I ever knew was possible. Trembling and admittedly scared—but not upset—I hooked a leg around his waist and an arm around his neck, returning the kiss fully.

“I’m so sorry, Rip, but I really can’t stop myself when you not just ask for it, but scream for it,” he breathed into my ear as he pushed into me recklessly fast. I bit back a cry but not a sob, pressing my face hard into his neck to try to prevent tears.

“Nemo,” I gasped only once I had successfully beaten the tears back; which, of course, took a few thrusts from him.

“What?” he asked stupidly.

“You really are so stupid. It should be obvious to use my name when we’re doing this,” I said.

“….Well, I don’t hear you using my name,” he said, sounding a bit miffed at my calling him stupid in the middle of sex.

“Naaaahhh…..ooohhhh…Gooooood…Daviiiiid,” I moaned, half just to make him look even more stupid and half because I wanted to hear how it would sound. He swallowed hard at my moan, and I pulled back just in time to see a brilliant blush (as well as some shock) take his face.

“Holy…do that again,” he said, looking down at me.

“I can’t just go around moaning for no re—” I started to speak, but a particularly hard and deep thrust from him cut me off. I jolted and tossed my head back, first crying out and then moaning his name again.

“Oooh, my, do that again, please, Nemo,” he purred, nuzzling my neck warmly.

“You do that again first,” I gasped. He obliged quite quickly, earning another outcry and moan of his name from me. What had started as a literal asking for loss of self-restraint resulting in an attack quickly became nothing more than him just trying to get me to moan his name over and over again. Not that I was complaining, since it was hard to complain past the moans….and also because if felt really, really good.

While we didn’t end up spending the entire weekend in the library, we didn’t finish our job of straightening it up, either. The following Monday, I showed up to school still in a girl’s uniform. Of course, I wasn’t wearing it for pleasure—not mine, anyways. ….Well, sort of I was, since it was literally a pain to wear pants. Yes. I was wearing a skirt, and also not wearing underwear, because it hurt my very sensitive posterior presently.

“If you keep wearing girls’ clothes, they’re going to make uniforms—of the proper gender—mandatory,” Vice Principal David said the second he laid eyes on me when I entered his office.

“If you didn’t kill my posterior all weekend long, I wouldn’t be wearing girls’ clothes again,” I growled.

“Is that supposed to be a reason for me to not tear your…posterior up? Because, if it is, then it’s not a very good reason at all,” he said, arching an eyebrow at me and smirking.

“If you really loved me, you’d be more considerate,” I stated flatly.

“I told you I can’t help it when you demand I stop being considerate,” he said.

“Then I’ll never demand it again,” I said, glaring at him as I took up one of the seats in front of his desk now.

“Don’t be cruel,” he said, unable to wipe the smirk off his face even as he attempted a pout. Of course, the fact that he couldn’t lose the smirk was exactly why it was only an attempted pout and not a successful pout.

“I won’t be if you’re not,” I returned.

“I wasn’t being cruel. Rather, I was, but only at your request,” he said.

“Again, I’ll never ask for that again,” I stated.

“C’mon, now you’re really being cruel,” he said. The smirk turned to a frown as he stood up now, coming around his desk to me.

“And you’re being stupid again,” I replied.

“What do you mean?” he asked. He stood in front of me now, kneeling on the edge of the chair to be in close proximity.

“It’s obvious,” I said.

“What is?” he asked.

“That you’re stupid,” I said. The smirk that had abandoned him now came to me, getting comfortable on my face.

“Be serious,” he said.

“I am,” I replied, smirking more.

“Please, Nemo?” he asked.

“Rip,” I said, looking away with a frown now.

“Sorry. Please, Rip?” he begged, nuzzling my neck and putting soft kisses to it.

“….You’ve already figured it out, though,” I said softly, turning my eyes back to him. He pulled back, looking deeply confused now.

“What?” he asked.

“….I won’t ask for you to be cruel ever again….but I will still ask you to love me kindly…” I whispered. As I spoke I slowly leaned forward, my eyes drifting closed as our lips drifted closer together.

“…Rip?” he asked softly, just before out lips could touch.

“….Yes, David?” I asked, pausing.

“…Can I call you Nemo now?” he asked.

“…..You’re stupid, David,” I said, quickly completing the kiss. He didn’t respond. Not with words, anyways. His lips wordlessly told me, though, what I already knew: he loved me. And I told him in the same wordlessly way with my lips what he already knew: that I loved him too.

Description
I slid the vice principal a look from the corner of my eyes, the corners of my mouth titling up in a smile. He certainly looked bored as he sat there, flipping through his newspaper. He also looked a bit funny with how oddly he had to sit to fit well at the student desk—I don't know why he wouldn't sit at the teacher's desk. My eyes slid to one of the other students in the room: my friend and partner in crime.

Though, really, we weren't criminals. We were hardly even hooligans. We just happened to have a knack for attracting trouble, and thereby attracting punishment as well. That knack for trouble is what landed us in the oh so pointless "Homework Club". I don't even know why it was called that. It wasn't like anyone that ended up in the would-be club ever did their homework in the daily hour-long punishment that occurred during lunch.

I set down my book—a dictionary-thesaurus—sliding it across to my friend, and picked up my pencil. We'd rehearsed this well. We knew exactly what we were going to do to spice this boring hour up and make the vice principal really earn his money. My friend picked up the book, scanning the pages I'd left it open at. He bit his lips, tossing me a nervous glance as he swallowed hard. He wasn't ready to do this, but he would be as soon as I started the ball rolling.

"....How do you spell "ejaculate"?" I asked thoughtlessly as I quickly worked the pencil across my paper. I could feel all eyes on me, but I didn't look up from my writing.

"....What's "ejaculate" mean?" my friend asked. I paused in my writing, sliding him a look. That wasn't part of our rehearsal. Was he ad-libbing? Did he forget what he was supposed to say?

"...Look it up, stupid," I said, frowning. I could feel our audience suddenly grow tense as my friend began flipping through the book, looking for the page.

"Ejaculate....ejaculate.... E-J-A...C-U-L-A-T-E...." my friend said, spelling it to himself more than to me.

"Thank you," I said, quickly returning to scribbling on the paper.

"Here we are! Found it!" he sang out. I paused again as the air only grew even more tense. Hearing a squeak from my friend, I slid him another glance and caught sight of the wide eyes and furious blush that now made up his expression. "....Th....That's...interesting," he said, forcing out a weak laugh as he quickly flipped to another page.

"....How come I know what it is but not how to spell it, yet you know how to spell it when you don't know what it means?" I asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

"That's interesting," he repeated, quickly flipping through the pages to find something to take his mind off that topic. Too bad the rest of our little show would make it hard for him to forget. My eyes fell back to my paper and I began writing again. After several minutes, the air was no longer tense and everyone had returned to whatever they were doing. Time to strike again.

"What's another word for anus?" I asked. Again I could sense as all eyes moved to me, wondering what the Hell would make me ask that.

"Ass," my friend said, not even looking for the proper entry in the book.

"I want to use a nicer word than that," I stated flatly. He sighed, rolled his eyes, and went flipping through the pages.

"Let's see....there is bottom...buns..buttocks...fanny...heine...keister...posterior—" he started listing off all of the given synonyms, but I cut him off.

"Posterior! That's the one I was thinking of!" I declared. I began to scribble on my paper furiously, acting extremely intent and focused. Again I allowed many minutes to pass so that everyone else would go back to their business, and then I struck again.

"In reference to semen, would "cum" be spelled as C-U-M or C-O-M-E?" I asked, twiddling my pencil between my fingers as I stared thoughtfully at my paper. I distinctly heard the vice principal choke at this one, showing that I was, indeed, hitting closer and closer to a nerve. Perfect.

"Um....the first one?" my friend guessed, looking up at me with uncertainty.

"I thought so," I replied. I quickly began writing again. This time I had to wait a good ten minutes before everyone was settled back down and trying to pretend they weren't curious as to what I was up to.

"....Is "anal sex" one word or two?" I asked, pausing in my writing again. This time the vice principal finally lost it.

"What the fuck are you doing over here?!" he screamed, jumping up and snatching away both my pencil and paper. Without waiting for an answer he quickly looked at my paper, reading what I'd been scribbling down all this time. Of course, all that I had been writing was "Homework Club sucks." over and over.

"Hm? I'm not doing anything," I said, looking utterly innocent and surprised that he had flipped. He very, very slowly looked up from the paper, a deep blush painting his cheeks maroon and his breathing growing labored as he narrowed his eyes and drew his mouth into a tight line.

"You think you're really funny, don't you, Rip?" he asked, sounding like he had his teeth tightly gritted and his jaw strongly clenched.

"Not at all. I think you're hilarious, though," I said, offering up a cute little smile.

"You will see me after school," he growled out, thrusting my paper and pencil back at me.

"Oh? Is it a date, then?" I asked, my smile growing. I took my pencil and paper quickly, mostly for fear that he'd flip even more, stab me, and give me lead poisoning.

"It's a detention," he stated none too happily.

"Well, as long as it starts with a D and the third and fourth letters are a T and an E, I guess I'll come," I said with a little sigh.

"Would that "come" be spelled C-O-M-E or C-U-M?" my friend asked. I bit my lip but couldn't keep a snort of only partially thwarted laughter from escaping me. The vice principal slid his glare my friend's way, and my friendly quickly ducked behind the book.

Still with very labored breathing as he fought to remain calm, the vice principal quickly took his seat back up, burying his face in his newspaper. My friend and I didn't say anything else for the remainder of the hour, but we sure made a lot of noise with our badly contained snickering.

“…What on God’s green Earth are you wearing?” he asked. He looked deadly serious, and I had a feeling that it was taking a lot of work to keep a straight face.

“D’you like it? I really think that green is my colour!” I exclaimed as I gave a quick twirl to show everything off. His mouth twitched just a little, so I decided to go on. “I used to think I was a winter, but now I’m definitely thinking I’m more of a spring or a summer,” I gushed in a girly voice as I smoothed my skirt and struck a few subtle poses to show off my legs and (lack of) chest.

“You….” he started, but he quickly stopped when he heard his own voice begin to crack. I smiled widely, watching him as I waited patiently for him to make another attempt to speak. After a few moments, he swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and again tried to address me. “….You…you….YOU…..you….I have no words for you,” he said, first gesturing to me and then seeming to sigh heavily as he shook his head and lowered his hand.

Since he wasn’t going to freak out, I figured I might as well explain myself…and maybe push him a little further while doing so. “Awww! That’s so cute! I’ve left you speechless!” I exclaimed joyfully, waving my hand cutely. I struck another pose before flouncing over to one of the chairs in front of his desk and daintily sitting in it. Of course, I was only sitting daintily for about five seconds, at which point I pulled one of my legs fully onto the chair, putting my knee to my chest and giving him a nice view up my skirt at my lacey pink panties.

The only sign he gave of noticing was a raging blush that came to his face as his eyes went wide. “Well, I suppose I owe you an explanation,” I stated happily. I waited a moment, but he seemed to truly be speechless now, so I went on. “Just a couple of the kids from the Homework Club who enjoyed my little stunt bet me bucks that I wouldn’t dare try anything else to make you so flustered. And, really, even if it had been a plain old dare instead of a bet, I would’ve accepted. I’m not very good with self-restraint,” I chirped lightly.

He still seemed stuck on my panties, so I decided to go on and see what all I could say without him snapping at me. “I hear you’re really good at self-restraint, though. You’re a good looker for a vice principal, you know. I mean, I don’t know how old you are, but you’ve got to be over thirty, right? That’s not the point, though. The point is, I figure the girls here must be after you a whole lot, but I’ve never heard any locker talk of you giving chase or giving in to their chases,” I went on, sounding very much like a gossiping girl.

Still he wasn’t responding. Still he was staring at me. I frowned softly, looking him over closely now. “….You’re gay,” I stated, my leg slipping down so my skirt would cover me again. I wanted a response this time. He looked up immediately, swallowing a lump in his throat as he started breathing like he‘d just run a marathon. He was in no way calm. He was definitely turned way on.

“What’d you say?” he asked stupidly. Should’ve covered up before I’d said that. He hadn’t heard me.

I stood up suddenly and put my hands on his desk, leaning over and into his face. I paused for a moment, cocking my head to the side as I first looked him in the eye and then slid my eyes downward. “Oh my…. You’re not just gay. You’re gay and a fetishist,” I said, raising my eyebrows. He immediately slapped both of his hands over the rather large tent formed by his pants now.

I let out a laugh, moving my eyes back up to his face. “Oh me, oh my, but this is interesting. I expected a lot of reactions from you, but that large reaction in your pants was certainly not something I could have anticipated,” I all but sang, a cruel smile working its way onto my face.

“There is nothing wrong with being homosexual,” he growled, narrowing his eyes.

“I never said there was,” I said lightly as I pulled back now. I licked and pursed my lips, eyeing him once more. “…I just said it was interesting,” I said, my eyes landing on his blush and staying there.

“And just what about being homosexual makes me more interesting than if I were heterosexual?” he asked between gritted teeth.

“Oh….I don’t know…” I said slowly. As I spoke I trailed around his desk and behind his chair, walking my fingers along the top of the back. “….Maybe…just that you…are….so much more….defensive,” I whispered, leaning down to all but hiss the last word in his ear. He all at once jumped up, slamming both the chair and me behind it back into the wall.

“That is enough! Take a seat!” he all but shouted, not even so much as looking over his shoulder to see if he had hurt me.

“Hmph. Defensive,” I pouted. Nonetheless, I quickly retreated back to the seat I’d originally taken. I crossed my legs this time, figuring he’d maybe hurt me if I did another panty flash.

“…Thank you. Now, on to your punishment…” he growled, taking his seat up again as well. Of course, being me, I couldn’t resist how he’d let that hang out there.

“Ooo. You’re a masochist, too?” I asked. He choked for a moment and then jumped up again, breathing raggedly now as he clenched both his fists and his jaw and glared death at me. I bit my lip, quietly wondering if he was also possibly a murderer.

“….You are not funny,” he growled after several minutes. Again he reclaimed his seat, seeming to have calmed down enough to breath normally.

“My humor just happens to be an acquired taste,” I replied lightly.

“It’s not a taste that I shall be ever be acquiring,” he returned.

“There’s an age limit. My taste isn’t one that can be acquired by anyone over twenty-five,” I said lightly. He watched me silently for a moment before his gaze fell down to his desk.

“Right then. Your punishment: straightening up the library with me supervising. If you don’t stop every five minutes to fool around as you are prone to doing, we should be out of here before eight,” he said flatly as he straightened his desk top up.

“Eight!?” I asked, gapping for just a moment.

“That’s only if we’re lucky. Knowing you, of course, we could be here well past midnight,” he said.

“What’ll my parents think?!” I exclaimed.

“That one won’t work on me. They’re out of town, and you know it. I did manage to reach them nonetheless, and they said this punishment was more than fine. They also say any future punishments are A-OK, so you won’t be able to pull that card any time in the future. If you have any other questions, feel free to ask, but nothing you ask or say will get you out of this, Nemo,” he said lightly.

“I prefer Rip. You know that,” I stated flatly, scowling as I stood up now.

“I do know that, and I do call you that during normal school hours. After school hours, however, I am technically off the job even while still here, and I therefore do not feel the need to accommodate you in any way that pleases you,” he replied.

“So, basically, you’re going to be an ass,” I stated flatly.

“Or, in preference to the words you use, I shall be a posterior,” he said, a not-quite-smirk coming to his face as he stood up.

“….Yeah, laugh it up, Mr. Rainbow Pride,” I grunted, turning and stalking towards the door.

“Should you really be calling name, Mr. Pink Panties?” he asked, following after me much more casually.

“It takes a real man to wear pink, and a real fine man to wear pink panties,” I tossed over my shoulder, sticking my nose in the air. I thought I heard him laughing quietly at me, but I didn’t take the time to check before ripping open his office door and strutting off down the hall.

“God, this is taking so long. Haven’t we been here long enough?” I whined roughly five hours later, “I mean, it’s past eight.”

“We’ll be here until tomorrow, if that’s how long it takes. I promised the librarian that we were taking care of his need to stay late and straighten things up like he’s been doing the last week,” the vice principal said simply. I glanced at him, scowling at the fact that he didn’t even look up from the book he was reading.

“….Fine. Get off your posterior and give me a hand, then. We don’t have any stepping stools,” I said. He glanced over his shoulder at me now, frowning when he saw that I did, indeed, need his help to put books on the top shelf. He sighed and rolled his eyes, closing the book and setting it on the table his feet were propped up on. He then frowned in my direction for another moment before actually getting up and coming over.

“Give me the books you need to put up there,” he stated flatly. I grabbed up three from a stack, handing them over to him. He quickly moved to put them on the top shelf, but….couldn’t seem to quite reach. I stood back now, arms across my chest as I watched him stand on the tips of his toes and swear under his breath as he worked hard to wriggle the books up onto the shelf.

“Aaaaaaalmost got it. Go on, try a little harder,” I urged him on, smirking to myself. After a few more minutes he successfully managed to get the three books onto the shelf. Quickly he turned around, crossing his arms across his chest like I was and arching an eyebrow in wordlessly question as to why I was still smirking. I was, of course, most happy to reply to the unspoken question.

I flounced over to him, striking a pose and pointing to the stack I’d gotten the three books from. “Now all of those need to be put up!” I declared gaily. He gave both me and the stack of books a dumbfounded look now, his arms immediately dropping to his sides.

“You’re kidding,” he said.

“I would never kid with you,” I replied, smiling brightly. He looked solely at the books now, seeming to be struggling internally over what to do. “I can’t reach the top shelf, so I can’t do it,” I stated, just in case he was wondering how he ended up being the one to do this work. His eyes turned back to me, the dumbfounded look being replaced by a thoughtful one.

“You can’t reach it at all….and even I have trouble reaching it by myself….but…together…” he murmured thoughtfully, eyeing me closely now. I took a step back, looking like I thought he might attack me.

“Unless you’re thinking of getting on your fours to be a human stepping stool, I don’t like where you’re going with this,” I said.

“You’re not standing on me. You’re probably heavy,” he replied flatly.

“Are you calling me fat?” I asked, glaring.

“I’m saying you may be in a skirt, but you aren’t a girl,” he said.

“The fact that I’m in a skirt is why I don’t like your idea,” I snapped.

“You’ve already flashed me everything under there,” he stated.

“There’s a difference between seeing and touching! I don’t want you manhandling me!” I exclaimed, taking another quick step away.

“I’ll be gentle,” he said, moving for me now.

“Keep back, pervert!” I shouted. I quickly backed up into and then climbed onto one of the tables, making a cross with my fingers the entire time.

“I’m just going to lift you up so you can reach the shelf. I won’t touch anything above your thighs, okay? Hell, I’ll just sit you on one shoulder, that way I won’t even have to touch you above your knees,” he said. He was still approaching me even as he spoke, putting his hands up in a sign that he wasn’t intending to harm me.

“For all I know you have a foot fetish!” I screamed out.

“We’re staying here for as long as this job takes, and you’re only making it take longer. The quicker you agree, the quicker everything will go. It’s not like anybody is missing you at home, or like we can’t work well into tomorrow. It’s your weekend you’re wasting, not mine. I didn’t have any plans, so I’m not missing out on anything except a few television shows,” he said, still coming closer.

I paused now, wondering if he really would keep me here all tomorrow. He did have permission from my parents, so he could keep me here all the way until Monday if he saw fit. I gave a soft something like a whimper off, lowering my hands but not undoing the cross I’d made with them. “….Nothing above the knees?” I asked weakly.

“…Well, I may put my hand momentarily on your back or thighs to steady you if you begin to fall, but, other than that, nothing above the knees,” he said. I stared another moment, both pouting and thinking. He seemed to be honest, but that didn’t really mean he was trustworthy. Still, something I did trust is that he’d keep me here until we were done.

I bit my lip, putting my hands to my side now as I thought a bit more. “….Fine. But if you drop me or feel me up, I’m going to tell,” I mumbled. He just smiled weakly and finished moving over, sidling up to the table so that I could sit right on his shoulder.

“You can sit on just the one, or both. Whatever makes you more comfortable,” he said.

“I’m not sitting on both. I don’t want your head between my legs, no matter which direction you’re facing,” I muttered darkly. I slowly edged over to him and then very slowly sat down on his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his neck and head to hold myself up.

“Alright. I’m going to wrap my arms around your waist and thighs now so I don’t drop you when I’m moving. When I get to the book stack, just lean down and grab up some books, and then when I move to the shelf after that I’ll release you. Alright?” he said.

“Yeah, alright,” I said, nodding my head. As he began to carefully wrap his arms around me, I couldn’t help but flinch, causing him to hesitate a moment. After he finally had his arms securely wrapped around me, he slowly moved away from the table and over towards the book stack. Very slowly and shakily I leaned down, crushing his arms between my legs and torso unintentionally.

Without warning he softly squeezed my thigh in an attempt to reassure me that he wasn’t going to drop me. I, of course, freaked out, jerked my body back up rapidly, and almost flung myself right over his back and to the floor. Thankfully, he quickly tightened his grip, spun around so that the side I was on was on the same side as the bookshelf, and stumbled sideways over to it, allowing me to grab on and keep us both up.

“Oh my God! I want down! Put me down!” I exclaimed in a rush as I clung hard to the bookshelf.

“Calm down! You’re fine! You’re not going to fall, and I’m not going to drop you! Just calm down!” he replied in just as much of an excited rush.

“I don’t like this!” I screamed at the top of my lungs.

“Calm down and you’ll like it fine!” he screamed in return.

“I’m not going to like this ever! Just put me down! For God’s sake, I’ll push a table over or stand on a chair or something to reach the shelf, if you’ll just put me down!” I screamed. All at once he suddenly pushed me over the front of his shoulder, sliding me carefully down between him and the bookshelf.

“Hey, I didn’t even think of that. Brilliant idea,” he said, staring at me in awe. I stared right back at him, but my look was of borderline horror, not awe. I was also trembling and near tears as I pushed myself against the bookshelf, not wanting even accidental or casual physical contact between us anymore.

The awe quickly left his face as he took me in; realizing how upset I was, a bit of sadness came to his face now. “I’m sorry, Nemo. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was just trying to make you feel better,” he said softly. He reached out to push my hair out of my face, but when I flinched he quickly rethought that action, deciding not to do that after all. “…You’re not so upset because you thought I’d drop you. You’re so upset because I touched you at all,” he stated more than asked.

“…Look but don’t touch. Never touch,” I whispered softly, lowering my head so that my hair would further hide my face.

“Why never touch?” he asked softly.

“…Because there’s never any need to touch,” I said softly after a moment.

“Your parents don’t even…?” he asked, trailing off since we both knew the rest of the question.

“…There’s never any need to touch,” I repeated softly.

“Never any need to touch,” he repeated as well. I nodded my head softly. He was silent for a moment, giving me time to calm myself enough that I finally dared peek up at him. “…So that when there is need to touch, the notion is so alien to you that it scares you” he said softly. I looked down again quickly at that, scowling a little now.

“I’m not scared,” I muttered.

“Alright, you’re not scared. But you are upset,” he stated.

“Duh. Just don’t touch me and I won’t be anymore,” I said, looking up just enough to send him a small glare, though he probably couldn’t see it past my hair. He sighed, nodding his head and he only just now stepped back so that I didn’t have to press up against the bookshelf.

“Right. Don’t touch. Self-restraint,” he said. He continued to nod his head to himself as he ran a hand through his hair, looking around like he was trying to locate the mentioned self-restraint.

I sighed heavily, tossing a look in the vice principal’s direction. He hadn’t looked up from that damn book for the last two hours. He hadn’t even acknowledged me when I’d taken the table right out from under his feet—he’d propped his feet up there again after returning to his reading—or when I’d not-so-accidentally toppled a stack on books almost right on top of his head. I’d told him I didn’t want him touching me, and somehow that had translated into me not wanting him to so much as look at me. Hadn’t I said “look but don’t touch”?

I sighed again, trying to get him to notice I was upset in a new way, but he still didn’t acknowledge me. It was time to go from hinting that I wanted his attention to taking it by force. “You wouldn’t be gayer even if a rainbow took you up the ass,” I tossed into the air, no clue what would come of it.

Nothing did come of it for several minutes, but then he suddenly snapped his book closed, sliding narrowed eyes in my direction. “I beg your pardon?” he said, not sounding very friendly. Great. I’d gotten him talking. Except now he sounded like he was back to his pissy little defensive self that I’d seen in his office.

“You’re gayer than the Trix rabbit. You’re gayer than My Little Pony. You’re gayer than my pink panties,” I said. Probably this wasn’t going to help anything, but as long as he was acknowledging me again, I didn’t mind.

“You’re the one admittedly wearing pink panties—not to mention the entirety of a girl’s school uniform—and you’re ragging on how gay I am,” he stated flatly, seeming to be unable to comprehend this.

“Damn straight. That‘s just how gay you are,” I said matter-of-factly. There was nothing but us staring at each other for several moments following that stated “fact”. After that, though, he was all at once on his feet and in my face, backing me up into the bookshelf and trapping me by grabbing onto a shelf on either side of my body.

“….You…you….YOU…..you….I have no words for you,” he growled, beginning to shake as he fought back rage. I, of course, was not intelligent enough to drop it there and get away without any damage to myself. I, of course, was stupid enough to plunge headfirst into obviously dangerous territory. I, of course, just couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

“Awwww. That’s so cute. I’ve left you speechless, again,” I said, smirking. I wasn’t smirking long before he grabbed my face with one hand, wiping the smirk right off it with that motion.

“You have no idea how close you are to trouble. You have no idea how close I am to just—Argh! Goddamnit! I just want to right now and right here—Sonofabitch!” he growled, still trembling and now breathing labouredly.

“You want to hurt me? Teach me a lesson for being such a bastard? Beat a little sensitivity and plain old sense into me?” I questioned. He swallowed hard and stared ever harder, fighting still harder to maintain what little self-restrain the had left.

“You have no idea. You have no idea at all,” he hissed. Releasing me and pushing away from me all at once, he shook his head to himself, still staring hard at me. “You think it’s so fucking funny to play with my gayness. You think it’s so goddamn hilarious to pick at my nerves over my homosexuality. You don’t understand at all what kind of territory you’re treading in, because you don’t belong in the territory yourself. Just because you’re straight, you think my not being straight is one helluva joke on me by God,” he growled.

I stared at him for a beat, no longer looking or feeling amused. “…Who said I’m straight?” I asked flatly.

“….What?” he asked, a second of confusion flashing across his expression.

“I’m asking you who told you I’m straight,” I stated.

“….Nobody,” he said after a moment of hesitation.

“Do you think a straight guy would dress in drag, even if it is to peeve off some adult they know? Do you think a straight guy, regardless of whether or not he likes being touched, would ever sit on the shoulder of another man while in drag, especially if they know that man to be gay? Do you think a straight guy would ever be able to spend such an extended time in drag without freaking out in some way or another?” I asked, my voice and face emotionless.

He looked extremely hesitant now, not wanting to say anything else that I would so flatly dispute. “…I….guess….not…” he said slowly. He was still watching me closely, but his eyes were no longer hard as he consider that I might be on his side, so to speak.

“…Do you think even a gay guy could do any of that very easily?” I asked, my voice very soft now as I bit my lip.

“You didn’t have to dress like that, you know,” he said. He didn’t seem to be angry any longer, but he didn’t exactly seem happy, either. Still, it didn’t matter how he seemed to be acting, as long as he was still acknowledging me.

“…Stupid. I wanted to,” I mumbled, looking off to the side now.

“…Why? Doesn’t it make you uncomfortable?” he asked.

“It doesn’t matter if it does… A lot of things make me uncomfortable, but I still do them,” I said.

“But not touching,” he pointed out.

“That makes me far more uncomfortable than these clothes do,” I replied.

“…Even so….why did you want to dress like that?” he asked.

“Isn’t it obvious? I wanted attention,” I said, turning my eyes back to him but not facing him.

“There are a lot easier ways to get attention from people,” he said, his eyebrows riding high above his eyes now.

“I don’t want attention from just anyone,” I stated flatly.

“Who, then?” he asked, frowning softly. I looked away again quickly, a blush tinting my cheeks to the same shade as my panties.

“…You really are stupid. That’s obvious, too,” I muttered.

“What? One of the boys that bet you wouldn’t try to further unnerve me? You like one of them? Maybe even that friend of yours, Nick?” he asked.

“….Forget it. You’re too stupid,” I said, suddenly turning around and beginning to straighten the books on the shelves again.

“No, not him. Just tell me who, if you want me to know so ba—” he started to say casually, but suddenly he cut off. I snuck a peek at him over my shoulder, actually watching as realization dawned on him. “…You…you….YOU…..you….” he trailed off, not seeming to want this to be another moment when he had no words for me.

“I left you speechless yet again, huh?” I asked softly, turning my eyes forward and then downward. All at once he was right up on me again, trapping me against the bookshelf and him with body and arms.

“I’m not speechless. I know exactly what I want to say. I’m not sure if you’ll want me to say it, though,” he said lowly in my ear.

“Just say it. It doesn’t matter what it is. Say anything—just say something,” I whispered, my hands flying up to grip the shelf alongside his hands. He didn’t say anything for a moment, putting together what he wanted to say perfectly in his head. Suddenly he moved his hands over mine, pulling both of our hands away from the shelving and wrapping me in an embrace from behind with both my own arms and his.

“I can’t say it. I can’t say it unless I can do it, too. You won’t want me to do it, though,” he whispered, sounding both desperate and pained.

“Say anything! Do anything! Just say or do something already!” I shouted, the blush on my face burning its way across my skin. I was trying hard not to freak out, and obviously not doing so well with that.

“That thing I said I was close to doing to you earlier…. Not….it was not hurting you… I was so very close….to kissing you…to attacking you… I’ve been so close to doing that to you a number of times too high for me to even count anymore. I am not saying this on the spot—rather, I am, but I’m not feeling this just on the spot. I’ve been feeling it, slowly more and more, for a long time. I have had self-restraint to keep myself in check with up until now….but not anymore. I’m sorry if you hate me after everything is said and done….but I love you,” he said very shakily and slowly.

An instant later I was whirled around and his lips were put to mine. He pressed his tongue between my lips and into my mouth, and pressed his hand between my legs and into me. My skirt went up and my underwear down as he progressed things a lot faster than I ever knew was possible. Trembling and admittedly scared—but not upset—I hooked a leg around his waist and an arm around his neck, returning the kiss fully.

“I’m so sorry, Rip, but I really can’t stop myself when you not just ask for it, but scream for it,” he breathed into my ear as he pushed into me recklessly fast. I bit back a cry but not a sob, pressing my face hard into his neck to try to prevent tears.

“Nemo,” I gasped only once I had successfully beaten the tears back; which, of course, took a few thrusts from him.

“What?” he asked stupidly.

“You really are so stupid. It should be obvious to use my name when we’re doing this,” I said.

“….Well, I don’t hear you using my name,” he said, sounding a bit miffed at my calling him stupid in the middle of sex.

“Naaaahhh…..ooohhhh…Gooooood…Daviiiiid,” I moaned, half just to make him look even more stupid and half because I wanted to hear how it would sound. He swallowed hard at my moan, and I pulled back just in time to see a brilliant blush (as well as some shock) take his face.

“Holy…do that again,” he said, looking down at me.

“I can’t just go around moaning for no re—” I started to speak, but a particularly hard and deep thrust from him cut me off. I jolted and tossed my head back, first crying out and then moaning his name again.

“Oooh, my, do that again, please, Nemo,” he purred, nuzzling my neck warmly.

“You do that again first,” I gasped. He obliged quite quickly, earning another outcry and moan of his name from me. What had started as a literal asking for loss of self-restraint resulting in an attack quickly became nothing more than him just trying to get me to moan his name over and over again. Not that I was complaining, since it was hard to complain past the moans….and also because if felt really, really good.

While we didn’t end up spending the entire weekend in the library, we didn’t finish our job of straightening it up, either. The following Monday, I showed up to school still in a girl’s uniform. Of course, I wasn’t wearing it for pleasure—not mine, anyways. ….Well, sort of I was, since it was literally a pain to wear pants. Yes. I was wearing a skirt, and also not wearing underwear, because it hurt my very sensitive posterior presently.

“If you keep wearing girls’ clothes, they’re going to make uniforms—of the proper gender—mandatory,” Vice Principal David said the second he laid eyes on me when I entered his office.

“If you didn’t kill my posterior all weekend long, I wouldn’t be wearing girls’ clothes again,” I growled.

“Is that supposed to be a reason for me to not tear your…posterior up? Because, if it is, then it’s not a very good reason at all,” he said, arching an eyebrow at me and smirking.

“If you really loved me, you’d be more considerate,” I stated flatly.

“I told you I can’t help it when you demand I stop being considerate,” he said.

“Then I’ll never demand it again,” I said, glaring at him as I took up one of the seats in front of his desk now.

“Don’t be cruel,” he said, unable to wipe the smirk off his face even as he attempted a pout. Of course, the fact that he couldn’t lose the smirk was exactly why it was only an attempted pout and not a successful pout.

“I won’t be if you’re not,” I returned.

“I wasn’t being cruel. Rather, I was, but only at your request,” he said.

“Again, I’ll never ask for that again,” I stated.

“C’mon, now you’re really being cruel,” he said. The smirk turned to a frown as he stood up now, coming around his desk to me.

“And you’re being stupid again,” I replied.

“What do you mean?” he asked. He stood in front of me now, kneeling on the edge of the chair to be in close proximity.

“It’s obvious,” I said.

“What is?” he asked.

“That you’re stupid,” I said. The smirk that had abandoned him now came to me, getting comfortable on my face.

“Be serious,” he said.

“I am,” I replied, smirking more.

“Please, Nemo?” he asked.

“Rip,” I said, looking away with a frown now.

“Sorry. Please, Rip?” he begged, nuzzling my neck and putting soft kisses to it.

“….You’ve already figured it out, though,” I said softly, turning my eyes back to him. He pulled back, looking deeply confused now.

“What?” he asked.

“….I won’t ask for you to be cruel ever again….but I will still ask you to love me kindly…” I whispered. As I spoke I slowly leaned forward, my eyes drifting closed as our lips drifted closer together.

“…Rip?” he asked softly, just before out lips could touch.

“….Yes, David?” I asked, pausing.

“…Can I call you Nemo now?” he asked.

“…..You’re stupid, David,” I said, quickly completing the kiss. He didn’t respond. Not with words, anyways. His lips wordlessly told me, though, what I already knew: he loved me. And I told him in the same wordlessly way with my lips what he already knew: that I loved him too.