𝓑𝓲𝓷𝓭 S. Aizawa

Chapter 100 | Me

His fingertips caressed my side in a circle. "I know you're lying." Aizawa singsonged, mocking me, making my knees buckle.

"Stop acting like you know everything." I bit down on my lip that couldn't take even a second to stop trembling.

I'm so into this, my body is having a fucking ball right now, this feels way to good to be real.

"So you're telling me," His fingers started to snake around to the dip in my back, until his palm was flat on my spine. "that you don't want this?"

His slightly rough hand made its way, traveling up my quivering spine. I bit down harder onto my lip to keep from moaning out.

"That you don't want it at all? That you don't want me, right on that desk." He pointed to our desk at the front of the classroom, making me look over with watery eyes.

Holy fuck.

"I don't."

He took his teeth and ripped off the flimsy useless band-aid on my neck and spit it out to his right. He turned back and bit on the same sensitive spot he had, just last night. It wasn't even slightly healed.

I screamed. That hurt. I took my hand and tried to punch him, somewhere.

His hand that had been above me moments before, now was latched onto my wrist, pinning it above me.

My other hand was stiff, flattened on the door and even if I wanted to try and hit him it was on the other side of me and I wouldn't be able to do anything.

"You're lying to yourself, why?" He asked, trying to search my eyes, where I denied him access so he dove back in to be close to my neck again.

"I'm not lying." I yelled out, fear taking hold at the possibility of him biting that sensitive spot again.

He took my hand and slammed it against the door again.

I am lying, I am so fucking lying.

He started from my collar bone and dragged his lips slowly up my neck. He wasn't kissing me, he was just gently dragging his lips up until he met that bite mark again. Then he kissed it. Both my hands nails dug into my palms harshly. I would take this as a vulnerable moment for him, finally verbally speaking about fucking and touching if it weren't for the fact he really was reading me like a book. That might not even be what he wants, he's probably teasing me about what I want, knowing he could care less.

"You're such a fucking liar."

I am, but I don't know why. I can't even admit what I want. I do in fact want to be on that desk, but I can't say that. It's like my mouth is sealed to say anything but the truth. Maybe that's my way of teasing back.

I breathed harder and harder, as his other hand was still on my spine. It started to move again as I jolted.

"Lucky for you," He went on, as his hand slid up and up, leaving goosebumps in its wake. "I'm not a liar."

"Yes you are." I blurted out, astounded at his statement.

"How so?" His hand stopped moving.

"You can never admit anything, ever."

He stayed silent, letting me go on.

"You're just an angry, sad man who thinks he knows everything," I was being struck by my own words, "when in reality you don't know shit, you think every fucking woman craves you, like a magnet."

I gulped. "And I will NOT be another magnet, not for anyone, and not for you." I squeezed my eyes shut. Empty words, but he may not know that. He doesn't have to know I already crave him.

The only true part about that was the angry man part. He reads me like an open fucking book.

"You know what I can admit?" He started, and I turned slightly as he started to lift his head, as if our eyes were wanting to meet.

"What I want, because I don't lie." He went on, finally giving our eyes rest and letting them meet. "But you lied, just now."

I watched his jaw move and flex as he talked, trying not to admire how strong and beautiful it was.

"I'm a magnet, you're a magnet." He mocked. "Everybody is a fucking magnet."

"You know what you want but you won't admit it." He spat, his hand stiff on my back. I wanted that hand to move again but something told me it wasn't going to.

I felt like crying, but I wouldn't.

"You can't get what you want if you don't admit it." He grounded out. "I can't admit anything? Yeah fucking right."

He took his hand out from the hem of my shirt and slammed it on the door beside my head.

"I know what you want, you're like a fucking painting that anybody has eyes to see. Like a shape; where everybody knows what it is." He said. "You lay bare to me, there isn't a damn part of you I can't see."

He leaned on his hands as he came up fully and faced me, burning a hole in my face.

"When you can admit what you want yourself, then, you can come back." He let go of my wrist and started to open the door, pushing me aside. "And you better fucking run because I don't walk."

Then he went out the door and slammed it, leaving me alone in the empty, hollow classroom.

I said I wouldn't cry, and I won't, just not in front of him. Tears silently slid down my cheeks as I went to sit on our desk.

He's right, he's entirely right. I want him, I did want him on our desk, I think I've wanted him for quite a bit. I couldn't say that out loud though. Why?

Why couldn't I just say it? It's so easy to say something but consequences can be scary. What would the consequences be? Get the shit fucked out of me? Like it's a bad thing or something.

I'm a coward.