fifthcurriculum | INTRO LOG

[He considers that statement, then smirks as arrogantly as ever.]

Maybe. But I don't need fuel, so I'll never burn out.

Tell that to every woman you've disappointed in the back of that bar, Johnny, not me.

[ZING]

[His eyebrows shoot up at that. Never mind the truth about back then, he wasn't even fifteen.]

You've set your standards low if you think that. Why go after someone you think's such a bad fuck?

Because of everything I've got to teach. Fucking duh.

Start a class. I bet the teachers'd love it, never mind the Professor. Showing real initiative and concern for the kids coming in.

[Then he gives his usual disdainful, disgusted look.]

Don't expect me there, though. I'm good.

Sex ed would be more your thing, I think, [He beams, grin back, all teeth.] You've got the experience with the diseased hookers. You've got all the horror stories.

Jesus, Petre, I didn't fuck her. [He can't keep the revulsion from his face. One point for Petre.] She let me stay with her for a couple of nights. On the couch. I was sick and apparently still had some of the lost little boy act down.

But you still got a front seat view, Johnny. That's more than I can say.

So I'll scare every kid in here off ever having sex again. Like a telepathic headmaster wouldn't do that well enough for most of 'em and anything would for the others.

[He shakes his head, laughing.] That's not the kind of teaching either of us were talking about. I just figure if you've got a whole class to distract you, you'll forget about all my apparent needs.

You're more qualified for the class.

And since when do I ever get distracted from the things I want?

[... except all the time. But he's making a point, here, tilting his head at John with narrowed eyes and the beginning of a smile.]

A whole class wouldn't compare to you. Think of all your experience.

Make up your mind, Petre. Am I learning or teaching with you?

[That's probably too encouraging, too open, but he's slowly becoming entertained by the constant barrage of come-ons. There's no denying that it's good for his ego, and when not combined with more aggressive acts like the little touches, it is pretty funny.

And then the final words click and he really is entertained.]

And did you just try to call me easy?

I'm not teaching you anything new, just teaching you how to do it right.

[He widens his eyes, arches his brows. Keep up.

No answer to his question.]

Right. As in gay. That's the right way.

[Uh-huh.]

Totally cool with having that stay wrong with me, thanks.

What - would I be your first?

[genuinely curious now, horny street rat.]

Petre. [He's speaking slowly now, as if to a child.] I'm not gay. There's no first, last, or any.

[He tongues his lower lip at that, brings his teeth down to rub on it, eyes John like he's appreciating him all over again.

Another challenge. That's all he hears. Not a no. John's lucky Petre wants something out of his own volition, because he wouldn't be above something a lot worse otherwise. He wouldn't even think of it as being abuse.]

Whatever you say, fire balls.

[He turns away to face the front of the class, muttering to himself.]

I don't see how this is so hard to understand. You're already a mutant. You get the whole minority thing. There's a whole world of guys out there who don't want to fuck you and probably never will, so why not just stick to the ones that do?

[Of course, a lot of the reason he turned away was the insistent way Petre kept worrying at his lower lip, combined with an extra notch of intensity in his gaze. Like he was hungry. Being looked at like that by anyone will cause a reaction, he thinks - the sheer level of sexual energy emanating from him and zeroing in on John was ridiculous, there are probably people in the hallway wondering why they suddenly got a shiver.]

No, I don't get the whole minority thing.

[He tilts his head, apparently uncaring, still eying John because he's all about this discomfort, all about exercising his power in any way he can. Even as John's so reluctant to let him have anything, he still somehow strives to draw blood from stone.]

We could all just have fun together, if everyone wasn't so hung up on the details.

How is it a detail that I don't want to fuck you?

[God, this argument is so circular, and yet it gets him just as irritated every time.]

Why don't you want to fuck me?

I'm not even answering that. You have selective deafness.

[And now he's got his lighter out, opening and closing under the desk. A sure sign of agitation.]

Do I? All I've heard is 'I'm not gay'. Like that'd be a physical impediment to you coming all over my mouth if I sucked you off.

[He says that with an almost clinical tone, an argument in a debate. Totally not just an onslaught of blunt and shocking words meant to draw out that same old repulsion.]

[He sucks in a sharp breath through his mouth, lets it out slowly through his nose, eyes squeezed tightly shut.]

I didn't wanna have to get personal here, Petre, but you're not my type. At all. In any way. I was just going for the most obvious reason.

So what is your type. Since we're on the topic. Not disease-ridden hookers, we got that checked out.

[He leans his chin on his palm, all ears.]

Mainly someone who doesn't devote every waking second of their life to making mine a living hell, as crazy as that sounds.

[He's self-aware enough to know that his side weakens as he gets angrier. He just doesn't have the control to stop it.]

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