Ezekiel smiles to himself as he realizes just what’s happening, that yes, he finally has the other male in the palm of his hand, ready to mold and mend in ways that he never has been before. The young athlete is aware of the effect that he has on people, but when it comes to Holden, he’s gotten so few a reaction that he has to be careful when gauging his responses. Now, though, as he lets his first language take center stage, it’s a lot easier to tell what Holden likes, and what he may want just as badly. Ezekiel moves closer now, so their knees are bumping together as they sit across from each other, and he finally responds to Holden’s words, “Because, you’ve yet to tell me what it is you want to do to me.”

In a normal situation, Holden would hate the fact that he's playing into Ezekiel's hands. But there's nothing normal about this situation or the way he's feeling towards Ezekiel or the fucking fantasies he has about him. It's just ridiculous how easily Ezekiel gets under his skin and Holden knows he's met his match, he can feel it in every single bone of his body, and what a match Ezekiel is. Noticing how small the distance is between them and how easy it would be to just throw Ezekiel over the desk and have his way with him has Holden's thoughts clouded. He reaches up to run a hand through his dark hair as he lets out a sigh, "And I won't tell you what I want to do to you until you're begging for me to share the absolutely filthy things I'd do to your pretty self."

Ezekiel knows the power that words can contain, and he’s even more painfully aware of the fact that Holden is reacting to the very ones he just spoke. He knows if he says the right thing at the right moment, he could get Holden’s resolve to crack. It’s something that he wants more than anything, if he’s being completely honest with himself, and likes he said earlier, he’s intent on having it. His heartbeat quickens as Holden moves closer, and he hangs on to the end of every word that he speaks. "Oui, Je veux que vous soyez l’ un dans mon fantasme, Holden." Ezekiel breathes, “It might be one of them, actually, but my palette isn’t something that’s so easily sated, you know. I can handle more than a simple fuck in a classroom.”

Holden keeps his brown eyes on Ezekiel's face, studying his reaction to his words and he's pleased with what he finds. He knows that Ezekiel won't be an easy read, but he catches the subtle changes in the other, it's one of the perks of having spent so much time together in the past couple of weeks. What Holden is not ready for however, is the foreign words that slip past Ezekiel's lips in one of the most desirable ways. He may not be fluent in French but to say Holden got the message was an understatement, the words going straight to Holden's cock. Licking his lips to buy himself a moment before he speaks, "If you're not so simply satisfied, then why are your fantasies as such? I take it no one's quite lived up to your expectations thus far."

"Oh, I can assure you, sir, that he had no appeal when it came to, well — those kinds of situations. I don’t know, I’m very picky and I would hope as my teacher and my coach that you would have enough faith in me to know that I don’t necessarily go after every man in a position of power.” His tongue peeks out to wet his soft lips, just as he mirrors Holden and leans back in his chair, matching the very picture of relaxation and smugness. “But, really, there hasn’t been a time where I haven’t gotten what I wanted. If, for example, I wanted him, it wouldn’t have been long before he was pinning me against this very desk,” his fingers dance along the wooden surface, “To fuck me into oblivion. If that’s what I wanted, of course.”

Holden nods his head slightly at Ezekiel's words, understanding just what he was attempting to convey. He notes the way that the other mimics his mannerisms, the way that his stupid dry fit shirt sneaks up and the smallest bit of toned skin peaks out from underneath it. Chewing on his lesser lip as he lets his gaze lazily swim over Ezekiel's frame from just about head to do Holden leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He hums in thought for a moment before moving his chair closer to Ezekiel and leaning into the other's personal space. His voice has dropped a few octaves as he speaks, "Is that one of your fantasies, Ezekiel?" He questions, voice impossibly sweet as it runs over ever syllable of the others name. "Want to get absolutely wrecked over your teachers desk, perhaps his hand over your mouth to keep you quiet because you seem like a vocal one." Voice thick with more than just arousal at the image.

Watching Holden lean back in his chair to stretch wasn’t something that Ezekiel knew he wanted to see. He wishes there was a rewind button so he can watch that thin, wiry body tense and then relax, because fuck, the whole action make his mouth water. What was wrong with him, he had no fucking clue, but almost everything about Holden turned him on, and he knew that this tension could only last so long before one of them gave in. But is it so bad that Ezekiel wants it to be Holden?  That he wants to see the ever-composed teacher lose it and just fucking take him? Probably, but Ezekiel’s moral compass has always needed an adjustment, and he sees no problem with it now. “Well, that teacher was a lot easier to convince into doing what I wanted.” He smiles, lips that drip debauchery and sin turning up at the corners as he speaks, languid and smooth, “All I had to do was bat my eyelashes and he passed me. I’m still sadly lost on this whole math thing.”

There's a subtle raise of Holden's eyebrows at Ezekiel's comment, stating that his past teach was so easily manipulated into giving him a passing grade. It causes his lips to quirk up at the edges, teasing into a smile because he's more than proud of his resolve, of the way that he's managed to avoid becoming like putty in Ezekiel's unnecessarily large hands. Well, on most occasions anyways, that one day was a fluke, he wasn't quite acting himself. Or at least that's what Holden liked to tell himself, it helped him sleep at night and justify the ongoing, filthy thoughts that he had of his student. "Makes me wonder why he was ever let go in the first place." Holden says, a slight husk to his voice as he returns his gaze to Ezekiel. "Perhaps you have a type, Mr. Clarke?"

"But I don’t want the book to help me, I want you to help me, Mr. York.” His lips pout out in the slightest as he drops his pencil and props his chin up with his hand. “I can’t learn like that, if I could, I would definitely be doing much better in your class. I think I need a more practical way of learning all of these formulas and functions.” He sighs, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. “I don’t know, I think you can find something that will help me individually, don’t you?”

It's unfair the way that Ezekiel's pink lips turn down in a pout, Holden's eyes wandering from the other's eyes down to his lips before he averts his gaze and leans back in his chair in slight frustration. Whether that frustration was due to Ezekiel himself or the fact that Holden couldn't find a way to get this information to him was up for debate. "Perhaps you can give me a few suggestions on how you've managed to teach yourself in the past? And I'm talking last semester because I know you passed." Holden's got his hands clasped behind his head as he stretches out, tired of being hunched over that damn desk for the past hour or so.

Ezekiel, knowing better than to tease Holden during these important tutoring sessions, was trying very hard to keep his focus. Being around him wasn’t something that he was very acclimated to, especially when it was for hours at a time. Because first, it was during class every morning, then after school for their sessions, and then practice. He couldn’t catch a break. It was quite stressful, having to be around him when almost nothing has happened, but what he wants to happen? Involves things that could very well get his teacher fired. They only had a mere thirty minutes left though, and Ezekiel knew that his resolve could last that long. Hopefully. “Okay, I know, but I suck at these sine and cosine graphs, you know?” He breathes out in frustration, his curiosity getting to him in unprecedented ways. Ezekiel reaches across the desk and brushes his fingers over the back of Holden’s hand, eyes wide and helpless. “I just need a little more help.”

He practically stills at the minor brush of Ezekiel's hand over his own because those touches are few and far between. The two of them had been on what could only be classified as good behavior ever since that one incident a few weeks ago. That isn't to say that the tension hasn't almost lead to a few repeats on their own, but Holden refuses to let the other male get the best of him. He loves his job and he adores the way that he's fallen into the many roles and Holden's not sure that he's willing to risk all of that just yet. There's no doubt in his mind that he's going to risk it eventually, especially if Ezekiel keeps up with the wide eyes and the innocently helpless looks much like the one he's shooting Holden now. Letting out what Holden hopes sounds like a sigh he meets those beautiful green hues for the briefest of moments before returning his attention to the textbook, skimming through the pages and finding what he's looking for. "See if that page helps, I think it has a ton of great notes that maybe will help you better understand than the way I can explain it." Holden offers as he points to the left page of the text book.

Ezekiel knew that there had to be some way, some entity on this planet, that he could make Holden give him exactly what he wanted. Whatever that may be. He was stubborn when it came to the other, and it wasn’t going to change, even if the circumstances had shifted to much more than friendly. All he wanted was a response, something out of the other that told him he was just as interested in the overstepping the many boundaries that lay between them. His attention piques as Holden draws in an imperceptible breath, one that was calculated and shaky all the same. He loves the fact that he already has an effect on him, what with just a simple touch along his jawline. “Especially yours, Holden.” It’s the first time he has ever said his name, and for added emphasis, he speaks it with his french accent dripping off the last consonant of his coach’s name.

He doesn't like showing weakness, it's not something Holden was ever comfortable with and showing Ezekiel just what effect he has on him is weakness in Holden's eyes. It's a way for Ezekiel to have a hold over him and he doesn't like that idea at all. He's just starting to get somewhere with the male that he can't afford for him to have the upper hand on him just yet. But it's too late, Holden knows he's in far too deep, already given up a few hints of just what kind of effect Ezekiel has on him. He wasn't expecting to hear his name pass those pretty lips that now his eyes are sort of trained on, but only for a moment before he meets the green ones looking intently at him. That french accent would more than likely be the downfall of Holden, without a doubt one of the sexiest things about the boy perched on his desk. "Well then, what kind of praise are you looking for then? What kind of rewards do you have in mind, Mr. Clarke." He questions, a faint smirk on his lips.

Ezekiel is trying to grab at any straws, reach for anything that can get him the upper hand in this situation. Because, regardless of him always wanting to be in charge, he likes the fact that Holden is the boss of him in this situation. He’s sick of always being the one who has to call the shots, but just because he’s over the role he’s had since he was a little boy, doesn’t mean that he’s past doing whatever it is he needs to in order for this situation to go in his favor. Ezekiel is very bright (and manipulative) and has now made it his goal to make Holden’s resolve crumble before his own does. “Maybe we should,” Ezekiel agrees, the corners of his lips quirking up into a small smile as he his fingertips brush against Holden’s jawline, letting the stubble scratch against the surface of his skin. He’s surprised he doesn’t make a sound at that. “But, I think we should also have some kind of rewards for my accomplishments that are sure to happen. Don’t you agree?”

Keeping his gaze steadily on Ezekiel, committing to memory the way that he's looking at him now. It's a different look from any he's ever gotten from the boy and Holden's unsure of what's to come next but he has a feeling it's sure to be promising, it is Ezekiel after all. That hint of a smile on the males features is intoxicating, and it's sad that just that simple expression is enough to sit so strongly with Holden. Still he takes in a shaky breath as Ezekiel runs his fingertips over his jawline, the sensation something that Holden never new he could crave so deeply. "I think that's a reasonable request, seeing as you seem to be someone who's driven by rewards and praise." Holden says, voice just barely above a whisper and much rougher than he had planned for.

Ezekiel feels his stomach do flips, like he’s in primary school all over again dreaming about his crush, when that familiar smirk rests on Holden’s lips and he teases him back, and god, he doesn’t even know what he wants but whatever it is, whatever it could be, is definitely sitting right beside him. He’s feeling his resolve being to crack in the slightest, because Holden is the only thing he’s never been able to have, but yet, is so close. It’s driving him absolutely crazy. “If that’s not motivation to pass then I don’t know what is.” He breathes, his eyes searching Holden’s features for a moment as his fingers brush against his tie again, the one he wants so badly to loosen. He just wants to see what’s underneath; see what he’s really striving for. 

A shock of excitement runs through his body, setting every nerve ending on edge as he gets the exact reaction he was hoping for. The reply, was everything Holden had wanted it to be and for that his heart is racing even faster, eyes steady on Ezekiel's as those damned fingers toy with his tie once more. It's like Ezekiel knows just what it does to Holden, that simple gesture has him longing for so much more than he's willing to admit. He hums softly, smirk widening just a smidge before he replies. "Then maybe we should get to work?" He asks, even though math is the absolute last thing he wants to focus on. But they're getting dangerously close to that line that is very loudly drawn in the sand, a line they can't cross under any circumstances. But at this rate, they're sure to cross every line in the books before next week.

"I didn’t know I was in the position to ask you for that kind of help. I don’t know. And it’s not like we had a very smooth start to everything." He shrugs, trying to brush it off without really mentioning his past behavior, or acknowledging the fact that he had written Holden off completely before even getting to know him. Of course not. He likes the fact that he can be in denial about these sort of things; keeping himself in the dark is the only way he can survive nowadays. "But yeah, I could really use the help." Seeing as the lunch bell had just rang, he didn’t see why they couldn’t start right now. "We can do it like, today. right now, you know. I don’t really have anywhere to be and the longer we go without going over it the longer that horrible grade is in the grade book." He perches himself on the edge of Holden’s desk, eyes never leaving him. 

Holden sort of feels like he's failed in a way, the fact that a student didn't feel they could approach him for help is never something he wants to hear. No matter how things started off he wishes that he could have seen that one of his students was struggling with the material. Regardless though, it's too late to dwell and for that he apologizes, "I'm sorry I made you feel as though I wouldn't offer you help if you needed it." He tells him before grabbing his own notes at the suggestion that they start now, he takes a seat at his desk and pulls the textbook to the center. Moving the few personal items out of the way, one of which was a photograph of him and his grandparents, he makes sure to clear Ezekiel some room before putting the test in front of him. "You better not be skipping lunch, meaning you better get a meal in before practice." Holden chastises briefly before starting on the information.

Ezekiel rolls his eyes at the other male’s words, but he decides that it’s best to stay quiet and listen to him. He’s been behaving a lot more obediently just so Holden knows that they are on the same page. He’s pissed about his grade, yes, but he knows that there has to be some way he can change it. If he doesn’t get it up in the next few weeks, he won’t be able to play. And if Ezekiel isn’t playing, then colleges stop looking at him and that is the worst case scenario. Not to mention the disappointed look his mother will have on her face when he gives her the bad news. “I don’t know what the fuck is going on, actually. Math has never been something I’ve liked. I refuse to pretend me and math get along.” He places the paper on the desk, “I can’t have this in the grade book — I’ll be ineligible to play.” 

He knows this isn't something that either of them want to see, Holden needs Ezekiel on the team and Ezekiel wants to be on the team probably more than he wants anything. That's something Holden learned quite fast, the passion that the boy had for the game was impeccable really. He'd never seen someone with so much love for something in quite a long time. So that's why he's more than willing to work with Ezekiel should he cooperate in the process. "Why didn't you say something? I could have helped you before it got this far." Holden says, no amount of anger or bitterness in his tone, simply genuine curiosity. "I know, we can work on this, fix it." Holden tells him sincerely, a gentle sigh pushing past his lips. "After school, after practice or during lunch, whatever works best for you. We can go over the concepts from this exam that you missed and whatever you need help with for the next one."

Ezekiel loved being in Holden’s class (yes, he had discovered his first name just recently) now, seeing as the teacher always seemed to have his eyes on him when he thought Ezekiel wasn’t looking. But he knew — he could feel his stare bore into him on more than one occasion, and because of it, he would stretch in his seat, letting his shirt rise up to let the other man see that tiny sliver of skin just before his waistband, or even better; would start sucking on a lollipop halfway through class just to drive Mr. York out of his mind. But today was more serious — he knew that he was getting his first test back, and just as it was dropped on his desk, he looked at the 44% written in small, concise print and felt his lunch churn in his stomach. He had never failed anything. Ever. As the bell rang, he let the other kids leave the class before he approaches his teacher’s desk, holding up the paper with furrowed brows. “What is this?” 

It was difficult for Holden to go the entirety of a class period without his eyes drifting over Ezekiel a time or two. It was probably more frequent than it should be, but after that one afternoon, it was impossible not to look at him in a totally different way. He knows that Ezekiel isn't going to be happy with his grade but there's not much Holden can do about it. Math is too cut and dry to show leniency where other subjects can, it's too systematic to find a way to say, 'sure you were right in thinking that so you get some points back.' Holden reaches a hand up to run it through his hair as Ezekiel approaches and he lets out a sigh. "It's obviously something that needs to be worked on." He tells him simply as he leans against the board behind him. "I didn't expect that from you." Holden admits, gesturing to the test. "Do you have any explanation for it? Did you think you did this bad when you turned the test in?"

"Simply because I need to know, that’s why. Don’t you want to indulge me?" Their proximity was quite inappropriate, what with their bodies in contact in multiple places, but he didn’t really care. Unfortunately enough though, just as Ezekiel was about to speak again, he hears the warning bell ring overhead, and he’s shocked out of the moment. What he was doing, he had no fucking clue, but he knows that he shouldn’t have let himself get this far. Of course he recognized what was was happening in this room, but there was something about all of this that told him he shouldn’t get involved. It was dangerous territory, a boundary that he had yet to cross. He didn’t know if he was ready. Pulling away from him, Ezekiel grabs his bag and slings the strap across his shoulder before leaning into Mr. York one last time. "We’ll talk tonight, after practice. Maybe you can tell me then."

"I want to do a lot of things," Holden murmurs, subconsciously biting down on his lesser lip as he's completely mesmerized by Ezekiel. He's aware that this is wrong on so many levels, but that's not even a thought in his mind at this point. He's too into the fact that those green eyes seem to be burning into his own brown ones, into the fact that their bodies are slotted together perfectly, fitting like two puzzle pieces meant for one another. Just as he's completely enveloped by this perfect bubble they've found themselves in the loud bell rings over them and startles Holden back to the cruel reality of how unlikely this situation is to ever happen again. He takes a step back, buttoning his suit as a bit of a nervous habit and a way to focus his attention as his eyes fall to the floor in embarrassment. Bringing his gaze back up he watches Ezekiel gather this things and just as quickly as he's in his personal space again, he's gone in the next moment, not even bothering to answer Ezekiel's statement with one of his own. Instead he's left standing in his classroom wondering what in the actual fuck just happened.