Love (The Kind You Clean Up With a Mop and Bucket)

[americanaffair]

Title: Love (The Kind You Clean Up With a Mop and Bucket)
Chapter: 1/1
Author: americanaffair
Beta: 
Pairing: Jalex
Rating: NC-17
POV: 3rd
Summary: And fuck, that was his student. He was a teacher. 
Warning: BDSM themes, naughty language, smut, no condom, underage, dub/con if you squint.
Disclaimer: If you googled yourself to get here, keep reading. This is disgustingly delicious. People belong to their respective selves, title and cut link cred is to the lovely Bloodhound Gang. 
Authors notes: HA! FUCK YEAH! This took me way too fucking long, and I am so goddamn sorry, but I just couldn't sit down and write big amounts like I normally can. But what the fuck ever, BECAUSE THIS IS DONE. It was Christmas fic from iheartcake13 , I assume she'll want to hurt me because it most certainly isn't Christmas time anymore. Or anywhere near it. Oh well. I thank her for getting me back into the right space of writing! And I apologize if this isn't what you wanted, but I hope it hits the spot and goes down like a summer ale. That shit is tasty. Oh, and those who feel the need to write a follow up? Please, please do. There is never enough smut, ever. Comments, concrit, the whole shabang is much appreciated! I need it, it's been awhile, I fear I'm getting rusty.



Alex lived in a dingy apartment on the tenth floor. The ceilings were stained from leaking water pipes, and the elevator was in a prominent threat to cease it's function at any given time. When turned on, the lights would flicker and buzz, as though a swarm of bees was constantly hanging overhead. Some floors were covered in a green carpet that ran tight to the floor, and maybe in it's prime was soft and elegant, but now was growing old and threadbare. All of the walls were an off-white color, and marked up with careless passer byes. Busy people letting their bags scratch, children with crayons, paintings being nailed into the wall and pulled out as times changed.

To some, the apartment building painted the perfect, stereotypical image of where the serial killer takes out his infamous revenge on society. To him, it had an old school romantic feel that he'd been craving his entire life.

That, and it was the only place he could afford on his high school English teacher salary.

Nonetheless, he'd come to love the little shanty he titled home. The kitchenette was small, but Alex wasn't much of a cook anyway. All he really needed was a freezer, microwave, and enough space to fit his coffee maker. The sink and oven stood as an added plus.

He slipped off his shoes, leaving them haphazardly beside the door, dropping his coat on the chair that sat beside his lonely, little kitchen table. It was currently covered in papers, like some expensive recycled paper table cover. Alex kept telling himself there was a method behind the chaotic organization, but he couldn't pinpoint what exactly that method was. One pile was ungraded, the other was graded. Little sticky tabs jutted out here and there, Alex suspected they either represented a student he needed to speak with, or kept different classes separated.

In all honesty, he did not give a fuck. All that he really cared about right then and there was getting all those damn things graded, put into power school, and handed back to the students.

After he made himself a cup of coffee with a substantial amount of Baileys mixed in.

“Damn,” Alex sighed, arching his back and rolling his shoulders backwards, hearing the bones crack and feeling sore muscles contracting. He lifted his feet up on the coffee table, touching the mug to his lips. “Fucking high school kids.”

His wrist was already aching, and he had yet to begin grading. It was an anticipatory pain, of the knowledge that tonight would be another night that he only wound up with two hours of sleep, a wrist that wanted to separate itself from his body, and a morning full of last minute grabs for coffee and shoe lacing.

Fragments. Minus one.

Misspelled words. Minus one.

Improper punctuation. Minus two.

Wrong citation. Minus one.

Wrong citation format. Minus five.

These pages looked like they were bleeding from how many streaks of red ran across them. But seriously, this was a midterm essay, and he wasn't even grading that hard. Or maybe he was. Maybe it was too much to ask of these fucking kids that they understand the proper way to form a sentence, let alone punctuate it, and god forbid they throw in some quotation marks.

Eight flowed to nine.

Nine meandered around to ten.

Ten slowly slid to eleven.

And then, in his hands, there it was. The last one. The last essay of the midterm. He swore, the page glimmered and sparkled, calling out to him. “It's almost over, Alex, your wrist will be okay. It's almost over, Alex, almost over.”

Holy shit. Maybe he really was going insane. The damn essay was talking to him.

Alex looked over the page, seeing the name on top and groaning.

Jack Barakat.

He already knew how this one would be ending.

“Okay, everyone, I finally have your papers graded-”

“Took your damn time!”

“Thank you for your patience. I'll call you up so you can come and collect them.” Alex pushed some hair back from his face, exhaling through his nose, and reaching down for the stack of papers that belonged to this particular gem of a class.

The kids were talking, loudly, amongst themselves. A few girls sat up front, watching him nervously, as though his every move was the deciding factor for if they made Yale over Oxford. In the middle was a blonde haired boy, trying desperately to sleep, and a girl typing on her laptop. On the opposing side of the room sat a larger group of girls, all chatting loudly, one in particular making some very unladylike-like hand motions.

Then, there was his favorite little cluster. Jack Barakat, Gabe Saporta, Pete Wentz, and their little crew. Alex didn't know how he got the “if they don't pass, you're in trouble, because they might be dumb, but we need them for sports” boys, but alas, he did.

He hated Pete, because Pete would do, yell, or pantomime anything.

He hated Gabe, because Gabe would speak, do his homework, answer tests, or even write an entire essay in Spanish, just because he could. Alex also didn't like that Gabe had been giving the right answers, forcing him to sit up on Google translate until the morning hours.

And he especially hated Jack. Because. Jack.

Jack Barakat was smart mouthed, obnoxious, and carefree. And yeah, maybe if Alex was in high school, they would be the best of friends. But as a student? Fuck. No. Jack was also brutally aware of his above average looks, and felt the need to throw an innuendo into everything he said to Alex. Who was supposed to be his teacher, dammit, not some girl he could flirt with into doing his homework.

It's also possible that Alex's hatred had something to do with his desire to fuck the kid. Every time he spoke, he was teasing him with the honest possibility of getting laid. Something Alex missed dearly. Seriously, when did teaching become the ultimate cock block? He hardly even had time to jerk off, much less get some action.

“Aubrey,” Alex called out over the noise, seeing the blonde stand up. She walked slowly up to him, taking her sweet time, and made a point to bend over when taking the paper.

“Thanks, Mr. Gaskarth,” she smiled, pinching the paper between her fingers.

“Mhm,” he said dismissively, not missing the slight fall of her face as she walked away. “Gabe?”

“Estoy ocupado! Estas bellas damas necesitan mi atención,” he winked, some nearby girls giggled flirtatiously, but the skinny boy sitting in the corner of the room blushed a dark red and kept his head down at the book he was reading.

“I care Gabe, I really do. Can you come up here?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he stood up, walking to the front of the room and taking the paper from Alex. “Bro! I didn't fail!” But Alex could hear it in his voice, the little reminder that he should've failed, but if Gabe failed, Alex failed along with him. Same said for Pete or Jack.

“Awesome,” Alex pushed his lips together. “Does everyone have their papers now?”

“Actually-” Jack raised his hand, grinning widely.

“I'll see you after class,” Alex was quick in his answer, before settling back on everyone. “We're all good? Great. Homework is to read act one of Romeo and Juliet. It's not difficult.”

No one bothered to write it down, which reassured Alex to make sure his lesson plan included a good description of what they didn't read. He'd sort of given up on calling them out on it. The bell rang, signaling the students could go home for the day and begin their weekend.

Shockingly, Jack didn't get up to leave.

“This might be the first time you've listened to my instructions,” Alex raised an eyebrow, watching Jack carefully.

“There's a first time for everything,” he smirked, leaning to rest his chin on his closed fists. “So, what am I here for, exactly? Not that I don't love spending time with you, but it's Friday night, and I should really go home and shower before our big date.”

“It loses it's luster without anyone in here,” Alex pointed out, feeling the emptiness of the room. Feeling the sudden tension in the room. The latter he pushed out of his mind, but it kept prodding, begging to be brought back to full attention.

“Yeah, but seriously, why am I here?”

“You can't think that I'm going to accept this, can you?” Alex pulled the piece of writing out, flailing it in his hands for a second.

“What do you mean? I did everything you asked!” The junior stepped forward, brushing back his black hair leaning on Alex's desk. “Proper punctuation, check. Correct dialogue usage, check. Citations, check. Citations page, check. Everything is there!”

“Jack. You wrote your fucking. Sorry. I just,” Alex bit his lip, inhaled, and tried again. “You wrote your essay on porn.”

“I wrote my essay on the affects of porn in America! They make TV shows about that shit!” Jack fought back, but he was still smirking.

“Language!” Alex said quickly, grabbing at his thermos and taking a drink of black coffee. “It's still not... appropriate,” Alex chastised, shaking his head.

“What about it, exactly, isn't appropriate?”

“How about the in-depth description of the different kinds of porn, and then the brackets within those. Or, look! Look how many times you bring up gay porn. I numbered it! Numbered. It!” Alex was talking loudly with his hands.

Jack's face didn't change. In fact, he might've even started laughing a bit. Alex did not like it. He didn't like how he suddenly wasn't the adult, wasn't Jack's senior. Alex was not a fan of how the dynamic between teacher and student just became blurred at the lines. How Jack's carelessness almost made him seem... older.

Alex was strangely afraid of it. He narrowed his eyes, trying to slice Jack apart with just his glare, but it didn't work.

“Close the door, Jack,” Alex leaned back in his hair, biting on the inside of his lip and watching Jack move. His ass was on total display in those tight jeans he wore, and the shirt rode up every here and there as he walked.

And fuck, that was his student. He was a teacher. Right now, he wasn't Alex. He was Mr. Gaskarth. And fuck, if that didn't make it even more appealing.

“What was the point of that?” The boy stalked back over, cocking his head, eyes flickering with interest.

That little fucker just knew.

“I'm going to make a deal with you, Barakat. You can come to my apartment tomorrow night, and we'll talk, just us,” Jack's eyes grew in surprise, but there was a lack of fear. Assuring Alex that he was correct in his thoughts and intentions. “Or I can call your parents, and we can all talk here.”

“Mr. Gaskarth,” Jack slunk in like a cat, his hips shifting and spine moving in one seamlessly mentionable motion. “You think I'd ever turn down the chance to see your lovely abode?”

“I doubt you have any idea what abode means,” He glanced up, seeing the fire burning behind the boys' eyes. Quickly, Alex tore a piece of paper from someones discarded homework that ended up on his desk, scribbling out his address and pressing it into Jack's palm.

He didn't say a word, just watched Jack's arm retract, watching him put the paper in his back. He pushed himself off from the chair, where he'd earlier been gripping the arms. Took himself away from the heat of his and Alex's anticipatory breath, and exited the room.

“Seven, sharp,” Alex called, watching Jack carefully when he swung his black backpack over his shoulder.

“I'll see if I can make it.”

Alex drove home from school the next day with his fingers clenched around the steering wheel. His mind trapped in an infinite loop of what have I done? Vs. It had to happen. He parked his cheap Nissan by the curb, hearing it lock as he walked back to his apartment. The air smelt of fresh fallen rain on dirty asphalt, something he'd be lying to say he didn't enjoy.

His apartment was the same disheveled mess it had been before, and somewhere inside his mind, he debated cleaning. Or at least shoving things around to make it look like there was method to the madness.

He pushed those thoughts, however, shaking his head in a physical attempt at clearing his memory. Alex opted to instead follow through his usual after school routine of de-stressing: kicking off his shoes, taking off his jacket, cracking open a beer, and most importantly, two extra strength Tylenol. He went into his bedroom, taking a swig of Sam Adams and pills, swallowing down the headache relief.

Alex took his time unbuttoning his shirt, wiggling himself from his jeans, and turning on the shower to run steaming hot. He chose to let comfort win over water bill. Steam poured from above the curtain when he stepped in, cringing at the heat for a minute until his skin became adjusted. He hummed a song to himself, something he'd heard on the radio that he would never ever let Rian know he knew the tune to.

Just as he was stepping out, he heard the tell tale rap of knuckles on his front door.

Alex smirked, wrapping a towel around his waist haphazardly and shouting a disinterested, “Coming!” In the general direction. He took his time, imagining Jack waiting nervously outside his door, twiddling his thumbs and gnawing on his lip.

He opened the door slowly, seeing Jack, just as he'd expected him. Alex gave him a glance over before ushering him inside, locking the door and sliding the deadbolt behind him.

“Took your time,” Jack said, his voice was filled with a mix of trying to sound independent and awkward so-now-what. He was standing in between Alex's little dining table and kitchenette, right where the linoleum meets carpet.

Alex shrugged, raising his brows. He could feel Jack's eyes watching him, staring at his exposed chest, the V of his hips exposed from how low the towel rode.

“Up here,” he grinned, watching Jack flush and look upwards. He had him right under his thumb, and fuck, it felt good.

“So, uh, are we going to discuss my essay?” Jack met his eyes, cocking his head and hip in one movement.

“Let me just get dressed, have a seat,” Alex gestured towards his couch.

“I like you better this way,” Jack winked, his naturally arrogant dick behavior resuming normality.

Alex had turned to walk into his bedroom, but rotated and faced Jack once again. “Then follow me,” he challenged, before continuing on down the hallway.

He wasn't surprised when the sound of footsteps trailing behind him didn't come.

Inside his room, he quickly grabbed some tight, most certainly not school appropriate jeans, and a plain white v-neck. There was a short debate of shoes or socks, but he opted to go barefoot. They would just be another thing he had to kick off later.

Alex meandered into the living room, humming to himself. He spotted Jack on the couch, laid out, a sliver of skin exposed where his shirt and skinny jeans didn't overlap. A sight he could most certainly get used to seeing on his couch.

“Alright,” Alex cleared his throat.

Jack jumped, clearly he hadn't heard the older man walking into the room.

“Scared?” He couldn't help but laugh, watching Jack's cheeks turn a light hue of pink.

“More, surprised,” he rolled over, looking at Alex while stretching. It was an obviously unneeded move, the only purpose it really served was to make his shirt ride up further. Alex could now clearly see his sharply defined hip bones; his fingers itched to grip and squeeze, leaving bruises traveling up and down his waist.

“I believe you,” Alex laughed momentarily, then sat down on the arm of the couch. Jack quickly adjusted himself to make room, however, Alex didn't move to the now open space. “Alright,” he reached for the paper on his coffee table, “This.”

“That,” the younger repeated, nodding his head in a mocking fashion.

Alex wasn't particularly amused. “Honestly, how old are you?”

“Ol-”

“You aren't even old enough to be watching porn,” he exaggerated the “p”, shaking his head along with the word, eyes amalgamated between disbelief and fire. “But you've most certainly spent enough time in classes to have the basic understanding that this sort of shit is not acceptable.”

Jack had his hands folded neatly in his lap, staring at Alex with his teeth digging into his lower lip. At first, Alex thought he had shrunken in on himself in fear, and debated if he was wrong the whole time.

Until he spotted the erection bulging from the black denim of his jeans, outline clear and straining against fabric. And he heard the way his breath came in short pants.

“Don't even tell me, you like when I yell at you, don't you?”

Jack inhaled deeply, then looked up, his dark eyes ignited like a gasoline stove. “Fuck you, fag.”

Alex blinked, narrowing his own eyes. Fine. Jack wanted to play that game? So could he. And he could play it better, too.

“I'm the fag, huh? Okay, sure. Stand up.”

“Why the hell-”

“I said. Stand. The. Fuck. Up,” Alex growled, digging his nails into Jack's leg, then letting go.

He got up, putting hands on his hips and staring. “What was the point of that?”

“You said that I'm the fag. But, who is the one standing here with a hard dick? Which, I should add, is fairly pathetic. Really? You fucking horny teenagers, it takes two seconds to turn you on. God. So really, I'm the faggot?” Alex stood up as well, sliding his hand down the couch and feeling a familiar handle.

Jack opened his mouth to respond, but Alex cut him off.

“Turn around and hold the back of the couch.”

“Why?” The younger boy had now crossed his arms, but his erection hadn't subsided. In fact, it appeared to be struggling harder, wanting attention desperately.

“Because I fucking said so, that’s why. Now shut up and do what the fuck I tell you to, when the fuck I tell you to. Or else we're going to have an even bigger problem.”

Jack rolled his shoulders back, almost like he was trying to cease his entire body from shuddering, and grabbed the back of the couch as ordered. He frowned, not really liking being unable to see the elder and know what was going on.

“You're going to count. If you forget to count, I'll pull down your jeans. If you forget again, I'll pull down whatever is underneath,” Alex paused for a second, admiring his view. “Although, with a slut like you, I wouldn't be surprised if there wasn't anything underneath. Anyway. You'll know why you'll want as many layers as possible in just one moment.”

He bent down, picking up his favorite paddle. Heavy, solid oak, a leather wrapped grip to ensure full swinging power. It made the most delicious noise upon impact, and Alex knew the sting would be raw.

Alex brought his arm back, using his right hand to grasp the handle. He didn't go as far as he could, but about ¾ of his strength, enough that his hips still rotated.

“Let's see how good you are at following directions, huh?” Alex smirked, he could hear Jack scoff, but that was quickly replaced when he brought the paddle down on his clothed ass.

“FUCK! BITCH CUNT COCK! I- One!” Jack damn near shouted, Alex was glad he lived in a shitty apartment building where hearing your neighbors sex life was a regular bonding experience instead of a dirty surprise to post on the internet.

“Filthy fuck,” Alex grinned, imagining the red imprint streaking across Jack's little ass, the picture in his head making his dick swell.

He swung again, watching Jack jump and twitch, as though he didn't think Alex would do it a second time. “T-Two,” he spat, sounding suspiciously like he was whimpering.

Alex knew he had to savor the noises, because he couldn't really beat his ass with the paddle as much as he would, considering he was planning on fucking Jack later. But that little mewl he made after the paddle left the seat of his jeans was driving Alex mad. He wanted more. Restraint wasn't exactly something he'd ever been good at.

“Three!” Jack groaned, his eyes watering, the intoxicating sting of pain much more alluring than it should be. This is why Jack loved and dreaded every football game. His broken bones. His sprained ankles. Too good, too bad.

“F-Four!” His hips were thrusting upwards, grinding against air, begging for something to rub and finding nothing available.

Alex wished he could record this, the beauty in watching someone dive into sub-space, watching the fire and fury being replaced with true honest emotions. Something so delicious about watching a human come undone like the lace on a corset.

He swung, one last and final time, using both hands on the grip and his full swing.

“FIVE!” Jack moaned out, tears dripping somewhat steadily from his cheeks. He heard Alex drop the paddle to the ground, discarded and forgotten. But he had a gut feeling this was nowhere near over yet.

“Take off your clothes,” Alex was standing, watching Jack carefully.

Jack turned to face him, licking his lips for a millisecond. He was quick to pull the thin shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them down his lean legs in one fluid motion. Just as Alex expected, he wasn't wearing anything underneath.

Alex nodded in approval, making a spinning motion with his fingers to make Jack turn around. Which, of course, he did. The teacher felt his dick harden more, if possible, upon seeing the dark marks already bruising alabaster skin.

"And mine," Alex stood, quirking an eyebrow.

The younger walked over submissively, pulling the shirt over Alex's head. He went to simply drop it on the floor, but Alex caught his gaze.

"Fold it."

Jack huffed, bit it was minuscule enough that Alex brushed it off. He folded the white shirt, placing it carefully on the floor. Jack bent down, getting onto his knees, undoing the button of Alex's jeans. Jack proceeded to bite the zipper, pulling down with his teeth. He glanced upwards, catching his eye for just a second, and Jack couldn't help but smirk a little bit when he saw the look on his teacher's face. He finished pulling the jeans and grey boxer briefs down Alex's legs, folding all of those as well and placing them beside the neat shirt.

"Up," Alex ordered.

Jack pushed himself off the floor, not even considering to brush off his knees like he normally would've. Far too deep into subspace.

“One last thing,” Alex murmured, reaching for leather handcuffs that he'd placed underneath a magazine. He pulled Jack's arms together and locked him, watching how even something as simple as that already contorted his body very mildly.

“Fuck, c'mere,” he grabbed at Jack's hips, pulling him in. Jack moaned at the feeling of their dicks touching, skin on skin sliding. He could've came just from that, finally having something touch his throbbing cock, the pain from his ass putting him right at the edge.

“You're such a slut,” Alex hissed, scratching his nails down Jack's back and catching his lips in a hot, heavy kiss. “I want you to ride me,” he bit Jack's lip, “With your hands like that. And if you cum before I do,” He licked a line across Jack's throat, biting down possessively. He suddenly didn't give a fuck who knew. “You won't what you get.”

“M-Mr. Gaskarth,” Jack whimpered as Alex roughly brought him to the couch, sitting down and motioning for the younger to kneel.

“Get them nice and wet, it's all your gonna have,” He put three fingers in front of Jack, wiggling them. Not that the dark haired boy needed any incentive to suck. He hollowed his cheeks, running his tongue over every expanse, trying to ensure it wasn't just wet, but slimy and thick saliva. Jack was also pulling out all his fanciest tricks, knowing what would look the most appealing.

“Fuck, enough,” Alex pulled his fingers away, hearing an obscene pop come from those pretty O shaped lips. “Turn around, whore.”

Jack nodded, pushing himself up from off the ground and bending over, his ass facing the older. Alex wasted no time in hastily fingering him open, wiggling his fingers around and hearing Jack gasp when Alex ran his fingers over that spot.

“Fuck, fuck,” Alex retracted his fingers, spitting on the palm of that same hand abit more generously than he would admit to, and stroking his dick. He didn't need to get any harder, he doubted that would be possible. “Come on, get the fuck up!”

Jack rose, bending one knee to kneel on the couch, then the other. Alex wrapped his arms around Jack's waist to stabilize him, seeing as he didn't have the use of his hands. They locked eyes for just a second, a second to let Alex know that it was okay, this was good, and then Jack sunk down.

“Uhnn,” Alex moaned loudly, squeezing his eyes shut tight before rapidly opening them.

The student had his head thrown back, eyes lidded in pleasure. He was making soft, throaty moans, lowering himself down to the base and resting for just a second. Jack panted, biting his lip.

“You're such a slut,” Alex's lips were near Jack's neck, hot breath on hot skin. “You really will do anything to pass, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” the younger moaned, beginning to employ his thighs in lifting him up and dropping him down, starting a slow, steady crescendo.

“What if I paddled you during class? I bet everyone would get a real kick out of that. Seeing you get pulled over the desk so I can spank your little ass red whenever you piss me off,” Alex was working along with him, thrusting into Jack, but his effort nowhere near matched that of the boy.

Jack whimpered, bringing his head forward to rest his forehead on Alex's shoulder.

“I can't believe you called me a fag. You're fucking disgusting. Look at you, you've been dying to cum since you got here. I thought just spanking you would get you off. Fucking teenagers,” Alex hissed, feeling his orgasm drawing near.

“I-I-Mister-” Jack gasped, shooting all over both his and Alex's stomachs.

“Dirty fucking cocksucker,” Alex moaned, but he couldn't help but be pushed over the edge by the feeling of Jack's ass tightening up around him. They'd both intended to last longer, but the sexual tension had been almost boiling over for so long that there was no way.

Alex came, buried deep inside, sweating and calling out Jack's name.

After taking a second to regain composure, he helped Jack up, unlocking his handcuffs and teaching for a roll of paper towels to wipe themselves off.

“God, you're good,” Jack was still sitting on Alex's lap, his arms now looped around his neck.

“You can call me Alex, you know,” he ran his hands up and down Jack's sides, embracing the skin that he'd been lusting after for far too long.

“Alex,” Jack smiled at the name, as though he enjoyed the taste on his tongue.

“This... can never happen again,” Alex looked into his eyes, seeing a mix of understanding and what appeared to be sadness.

“I-”

“I mean, only lasting ten minutes,” the elder smirked.

“Huh?” Jack looked up from underneath his sweaty bangs, his skin now cooled down.

“Well, you came before I told you to. Unacceptable. If this is what it takes to get you to pass,” Alex bit into Jack's neck, feeling him shudder. “Than so be it.”

A/N the second: I had to throw this in here, my motivation to getting this done was that I promised myself I could re-read Bittersweet Life by new_againxo if this got done. I'M OFF TO FANGIRL, everyone else go read it to BECAUSE SO MUCH CUTE IT MAKES ME NEED INSULIN.

Edit: I added some extra stuff to make sense of how Alex does, in fact, get naked. Thank you sammiturnmeon for catching that!