Hands On Learning

11. what's a sub?

L

He couldn't believe how straightforward he had just been, telling Mr. Styles his fantasy, and even flirting right back before class. All those hours between Sunday afternoon and now, letting the sentence turn over and over in his mind (and okay maybe out loud too in his own room, quietly) he had worked up the courage. And the shocked, aroused look on Mr. Styles' face when he detailed in just two breaths, his fantasy of getting bent over a desk, was so worth the effort and how flushed he felt before the response of, 'Fuck. That's hot.'

That didn't mean he wasn't a little self conscious now. He muttered to himself a little as he got in his car and drove home to get ready for practice. "Can't believe I said hard." Then he shook his head and smirked. "Got what I asked for though." Getting it from that angle felt even more blissful than he could have ever imagined, and being pushed down like that, a hand over his mouth, had driven him wild with lust.

Once inside his house he started to look through laundry baskets for his favorite soccer shorts. Assuming his mom was home he yelled, "Where are my red shorts!" A few beats later he heard,

"Come to where I am I don't want to have to yell!" Every fucking time. Couldn't she have said it in so many words? He went all the way upstairs to find her in his room, picking stuff up. What the fuck? She never cleaned his room.

"Do you know where my red shorts are?" He repeated.

"Louis do you really expect me to keep track of all your clothes? Probably in the dryer." Her voice softened by the end of the sentence. He hesitated from rushing off though, just watching for a moment as she aimlessly rustled about his things. Finally he asked.

"What are you doing?" She set down the opened magazine she had just picked up and looked under.

"If you have nothing to hide it doesn't matter," she said lightly. His mind quickly ran through any number of things he could have done or left out. He didn't even take home the lingerie, right? And Liam took that stupid bottle with him. Okay.

He grumbled something about 'whatever' and went back downstairs finding those shorts finally. He was pulling them on over his boxers in the kitchen when she joined him.

"Louis did you eat yet? You've got twenty minutes before you need to go!" She scolded.

He made himself peanut butter toast and was studying for an upcoming test (because yes, he did still have to actually try to get good grades) when she asked, "You have your soccer ball too?"

Fuck. It was currently sitting in Mr. Styles' backyard, forgotten when that man had picked him up and brought him inside for some mind blowing sex.

"Yep," he replied. He zipped up his jacket and grabbed a water bottle, deciding to get the hell out of there before she harassed him anymore.

On his way to school he realized he had missed two practices in a row now. And he had literally no reason why. Once there he slammed his car door shut probably too hard, frustrated that he had forgotten. When he joined his teammates on the field for warm up, Mr. Horan saw him and came over.

"Louis, glad you came today! How you doing?" He smiled warmly at him. Did this guy ever get mad?

"I'm good Mr. Horan. Sorry I haven't been here, I had detention Wednesday and it was my birthday and um, I didn't feel well Friday." Louis leaned down and wrapped his hand around his ankle, pulling his leg behind him to stretch and winced slightly from the sudden, sharp pain in his ass from the movement. So much for it getting better.

"Alright, well next time save the partying for afterwards, don't forget New Hampshire state finals are coming up."

"Yes, sir," he replied, dropping his foot and stretching his other leg, pursing his lips a little at the pain. He watched concern flash over the man's fair features.