throws this and runs away
When Ogleby is serious, he extends his arm across his desk, lays his palm flat against the surface and drums his fingers once, just once, to make his point. He peers over his glasses with wrinkled brows and glares at One, who is pulling a cigarette out of his mouth, expelling the smoke slowly and looking into Ogleby’s eyes. Ogleby has already told him to put the cigarette out while they’re in the classroom but One is particularly feisty today. He puts the cigarette back in his mouth and Ogleby’s voice is so low it’s almost inaudible when he says, “One. Put that out now or I’ll put it out for you.” One smirks, takes the cigarette out and leans into his teacher, blowing the hot smoke into his face.
Ogleby stares for several seconds, long enough for One to laugh and lean back, about to take another puff. Long enough for One to feel comfortable, like he got away with some elaborate prank, and then Ogleby grabs him by the shirt collar and with surprising ease he flips him over his lap. One is taller than him but by the time he realizes what’s going on, he’s too shocked to stop it – maybe he doesn’t really want to.
Ogleby brings his hand down a few times, sharp and quick against One’s jeans. One puts his lips around the cigarette before it falls out of his hand and he turns his head up to ask Ogleby what the fuck he’s doing but he’s sort of laughing, too. It doesn’t hurt but it’s sort of embarrassing and he hopes no one walks in. Ogleby doesn’t answer, he just swats him a few more times and One finally starts to struggle to get up but Ogleby is surprisingly strong and shoves him back down. He says, “You want to smoke that cigarette? Smoke that cigarette.”
One stares up at him and Ogleby cranes his neck to look him in the eyes. One shakes his head a little bit, confused and Ogleby nods at the cigarette.
“I’ll stop once you’ve smoked that whole thing. So you better start puffing.”
One is embarrassed for himself, embarrassed that he’s over his teacher’s lap like a four year old and he’s embarrassed for Ogleby and his choice of words, but he can only focus on one of those things right now and he sticks the cigarette back in his mouth clumsily and inhales. Ogleby starts slapping his ass again and just a few seconds later it starts to sting a little, and he can’t imagine what it would be like without his jeans to protect him. Luckily, his jeans are so hard to take down that he could probably squirm away if Ogleby tried.
A few minutes later and One is desperately trying to finish the cigarette but the awkward angle hurts his lungs and the swats are actually starting to hurt a lot and he’s kicking his feet up every so often. Ogleby pushes them down by the ankles forcefully and One actually whines as he sticks the cigarette in his mouth and inhales. That’s humiliating, letting that whine out so casually, and he thinks Ogleby noticed because he stills his hand for a minute and sort of rubs his ass even though it doesn’t help. One keeps smoking and Ogleby leans back in his chair and asks One if he’s sorry.
One knows what to say. He says yes and Ogleby stops, or maybe smacks him a few more times but lets him up and probably pulls some weird, Leave It To Beaver kind of shit and then they make out. But he can’t say it, he can’t say that he’s sorry quite yet because this has never happened to him before and he has to see what happens. So he shouts, “Fuck, no!” and Ogleby laughs. One can tell there’s genuine amusement in it, amusement like this is a game they’re playing but then he smacks him harder than before and One lets out a squeak, realizing it wasn’t Ogleby’s hand but a ruler that hit him that time. He quickly takes it back, apologizes profusely – “No, I’m sorry, please don’t, I take it back, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” – but Ogleby ignores him. He keeps peppering his ass with the ruler and One grits his teeth as it intensifies, groaning over the next minute or so until he lifts his hand up to the desk, puts the cigarette out on it and declares, “I’m done, I’m done!”
Ogleby stops, his hand wavers above One’s body and One is still, his hand still gripping the desk, holding his breath that Ogleby won’t smack him again and when Ogleby puts the ruler on the desk next to the rubbed out cigarette, One sighs with relief. Ogleby grabs his hips and puts him back on his feet and One immediately reaches to rub his backside and when he sees that Ogleby is smiling, he scowls.
“That hurt,” he says. Ogleby smiles wider.
“It was supposed to,” he says. “It was a punishment.”
“You could have just given me a detention.”
“Nah,” Ogleby says, and stands up from his chair to gather his bag. “That’s gotten old. You never learn anything in detention.”
“All that taught me was that you’re surprisingly strong for an old man.”
“And don’t you forget it,” Ogleby says as he slips his bag over his shoulder and starts to walk out. One follows him and takes another cigarette out of his pack, puts it in his mouth, but waits until they’re outside to light it.