Senior Year (Syndisparklez) -DISCONTINUED-

October: The Start

“Sir, may I go to the bathroom?” Jordan asked, raising his hand. The teacher cast a look in his direction, his completed worksheet and the rambunctious class around the student who hardly had finished the first few problems.
 
“Yes, get a pass from the front desk,” the teacher murmured, returning to monitoring a group of students staring at a phone in someone's lap who hadn't started at all. The teacher let out an exasperated sigh and went to confiscate the phone.
 
Jordan glanced at the clock and chewed his lip. He had two minutes, which was about right considering Tom would be late anyway. He grabbed a pass from the desk and tucked it into his jacket pocket, not that worried about a teacher asking him what he was doing in the halls. It's not like many people were out during this hour anyway. It was the last hour of the day, at this point everyone was just counting minutes.
 
Which made it the perfect time.
 
He strode down the hall, the familiar path to the bathroom in his muscle memory and he hardly tensed up like he used to when he passed someone else. This particular bathroom was empty. Most didn't use it, because the shop classroom was next door and the sound of a wood saw going disturbed too many people trying to do their business.
 
Which always made it the perfect place.
 
Tom wasn't there yet. Jordan checked the time on his phone and shook his head. He was a minute late, Tom was likely going to swing down here in a few more. He was always slightly annoyed by that, one day one of the teachers was going to notice that fifteen minutes was a little too much time to use the bathroom.
 
Jordan ran some water in the sink and washed his hands, just in case a teacher was nearby or another student, but no one else was. There was some dirt on his hands, probably from the AP Biology gardening project. Absentmindedly he focused on scrubbing the dirt from his fingers and nails. He didn't hear Tom slide into the bathroom, a grin sliding onto the other Senior's face. He slid behind Jordan and wrapped his arms around the man's waist, surprising him.
 
“Hey,” Jordan hissed.

“Mm, hey babe,” Tom muttered, turning Jordan to face him. “Your face is sunburned.”
 
“We were outside for AP Bio,” Jordan said, giving to Tom's friendly touch, resting a hand on Tom's chest and another slinking up to rest on his shoulder.
 
“Yeah, a man who gardens is really sexy,” Tom said with a roll of his eyes and started backing up towards a stall, pulling Jordan with him. He pushed the stall open with his back and Jordan followed him in with a nervous twitch of a smile, but it wasn't like he hadn't done this before. Jordan closed the door behind them, momentarily getting out of Tom's grip, his heart fluttering in his chest as the nervous smile turned into a grin as his eyes darted back to Tom.
 
Before Jordan could find a comfortable position for his hands, Tom had pulled him against him and locked their lips in a kiss. Tom's hand was buried in the brown nearly black curls and his other hand dug into Jordan's lower back pushing their hips together in a nearly agonizing position.
 
“Nnn-no wasting time,” Jordan said breaking apart from the kiss for a moment, angling his head back as Tom began kissing his neck, moving down to the place where old bruises still lingered, usually hidden by the collar of Jordan's jacket.

Tom just snickered and dangerously kissed close to the pulse of Jordan's neck; he let his teeth scrape the delicate skin teasingly before he sucked on it causing a soft moan to escape Jordan's lips. No one outside that stall would hear it over the grinding saw in the next room.  Jordan was going to complain about it leaving a noticeable mark, but Tom had returned to his mouth, gently pushing Jordan against the wall of the stall as he moved both of his hands up to cup Jordan's face.
 
It was definitely the wrong thing to be doing. Every day they could manage they were in that bathroom. Tom couldn't trust his parents to support picking up an American lover, much less a boy. Jordan wasn't sure where his parents stood, but his mother, who he lived with, had just been proposed to and was distracted by the coming wedding. Neither wanted to risk their shaky relationship by attempting to do anything at their own houses.
 
Timidly, Jordan's hand crept down to rest on Tom's ass and his other hand stayed safely on the waist where it didn't have to worry about the effects of groping Tom. It was always a fatal game. Tom grinded his hips against Jordan's and he felt Tom let out a little groan against his mouth.
 
“I want more,” Tom muttered.
 
“Not here, Tom,” Jordan reprimanded, breaking the kiss.
 
Tom pulled away slightly irritated. “Come on, we're not taking clothes off. Just a little innocent rubbing. 'Sides, you made the first move.” He gave Jordan a pointed look and fixed his hair that hadn't hardly been messed up compared to Jordan's.
 
“Maybe tomorrow,” Jordan said, leaning against the wall of the stall with a small sigh. “It's been ten minutes, any longer and it looks suspicious.” He reached up to fix his hair, but Tom beat him to it, affectionately combing Jordan's bangs forward and the rest of the hair in the same general direction. He fixed the wrinkled collar of Jordan's jacket, making a small face when he realized the hickey he left was pretty visible.
 
“How bad of a bruise did you leave?” Jordan questioned, opening the stall door and going to the bathroom mirror to check it out for himself. At the red turning darker bruise on his neck Jordan shot a dark look at Tom. “Tom!”