TEACH ME// NARRY AU

6// Hate Mr Styles

AN: I'm late but I was sick and then I was in Czech Republic and I didn't have wifi and then the attacks happened in Belgium and I'm Belgian so I was kind of shocked. But hey here I am! And to make up for it you're getting another update tomorrow!

The following morning, Niall woke up with a headache, a souvenir left from endless thinking about what had happened the previous day.

Harry had kissed him.

Harry had actually kissed him.

What the fuck?

A teacher isn't supposed to kiss a student. But then again, a student isn't supposed to kiss a teacher either. And Niall had in fact kissed Mr Styles back.

How fucking dumb was he?

And the worst part about it was that he had actually enjoyed it. It had been the best kiss ever, and not to brag or sound slutty, but Niall had kissed a lot of boys in his seventeen years. Mr Styles actually knew what he was doing.

Of course he does, a voice in Niall's head says. The man's old as fuck! He's probably got a lot of experience. He's probably kissed a thousand guys. Niall was noting special. They'd probably pretend nothing had happened.

Niall told himself he wouldn't mind. Even a blind man could see that he would.

He walked into his bathroom to take a shower, but stopped at the mirror to see what he was working with that day. Hey, it's not because you're a guy that you don't have to look good, right? Destroy gender roles, but not gender identity. Of course he had a vain side, doesn't everyone?

And maybe, a tiny little bit of him when to look good for a certain smoking hot English teacher.

But he'd never tell anyone that.

His eyes raked over his own body, and he almost jumped when he saw a mark on his neck. No! No, it couldn't be... But it was. It was right there, a red mark on the right side of his neck to remind him of his mistake.

Shit.

His thoughts went back to the night before, trying to remember when Mr Styles had done this.

'You're so naughty, Niall. Maybe someone has to teach you.'

Mr Styles stood close to him, so close he almost couldn't breathe. Niall felt a little claustrophobic, but at the same time he couldn't say he disliked the situation. Harry placed one hand next to Niall's face, so that he couldn't escape. Not that he was planning to do so, Niall was so overwhelmed he couldn't even think straight. Or gay. He couldn't think at all.

Mr Styles' other hand ran over Niall's body, from his neck to his waist. He stopped at Niall's hips and left his hand there. He roughly grabbed Niall's hips so that there was no space left between the both of them.

Niall didn't know what to do. He was looking anywhere but Mr Styles' eyes, and he felt aroused but conflicted. This was his teacher. His fucking teacher. Whatever the fuck they were doing, it was wrong! So goddamn wrong! But why did it feel so right?

Mr Styles grabbed Niall's chin with the hand that had rested on the wall before, and forced the younger boy to look at him. He studied his face for a moment, trying to find some sort of resistance to what he was doing, but he seemed to find none.

Then, he leaned in and kissed him.

And it was the best goddamn kiss Niall had ever shared with someone.