TITLE:   When I Kissed the Teacher
AUTHOR:  Phutty
PAIRING: Ashton/Quinnan
TIMING:  Set around the time of Puppy Walk
         (Aust trans.29/5/99)
RATING: PG-13

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When I Kissed The Teacher
(A Vignette for A Minor)
============================

'Seeya fellas.'

    'Night Micky.'

    Tony Stamp, Dave Quinnan and Luke Ashton were in
various states of undress  when Micky Tate zipped
his fly and made for the door of the locker room.
The  late turn were already in, and the end of their
own shift had, for once, caught  them unaware. Well,
put it this way: amid the melee of arms and legs of
a small  but fierce pub brawl, they'd been more
preoccupied with the size ten boots being  aimed at
their groins than the fact that Monroe wasn't too
keen to authorise  fifteen minutes' overtime.
Whatever, it meant that they'd been caught up in
custody beyond the time that they would normally
metamorphose into serge  pumpkins and, being the
dedicated officers that they were, they all wanted
to  get the hell out.

    Stamp tucked his shirt into his trousers as Tate
pulled the door open. 'Not  joining us down the pub
then?'

Tate shook his head. 'Sorry, Ton. Other plans.'

    Shrugging his denim jacket on, Stamp shot a
knowing glance in Quinnan's  direction before
raising his eyebrows at Tate. 'Oh yeah? And who's
the unlucky  young lady this evening?'

    'Wouldn't you like to know,' Tate replied with a
good-natured smile.  'Night.'

    'Night.' Stamp took up the vacancy at the open
door and turned to Quinnan  and Ashton. 'I'm, ah,
just going to round the girls up for a half down the
Grapes.'

    Quinnan smiled slightly and nodded his approval
before proceeding to remove  his trousers.

    Ashton looked up at Stamp briefly but replied
whilst concentrating on his  epaulettes. 'I think
Polly said she had to be somewhere.'

    Stamp, dividing the balance of his weight
between the door handle and the  door jamb, leaned a
little further in to glance past Ashton at Quinnan
again.  'Norika and Jamila it is then.' Levering
himself upright, he closed the door  behind him and
left his colleagues to it.

    Quinnan hung his pants in his locker and watched
from the corner of his eye  as Ashton unbuttoned his
shirt. He looked so pallid beneath it, against the
dark  material of his trousers. The smooth, milky
skin of his stomach reminded Quinnan  just how young
Ashton was, and thoughts started racing through his
head.

    A rash of goose pimples erupted down Ashton's
arms, and he instinctively  looked to his right to
find Quinnan's eyes upon him. He didn't know why he
was  looking at him. 'You alright Dave?'

    Quinnan answered as he started undoing the
buttons of his own shirt. 'I'm  alright, Luke. You?'

    'Yeah, I'm OK.' He pulled his arms free of the
sleeves.

    Quinnan's eyes kept darting towards Ashton as he
spoke. 'How's your puppy  walking going?'

    'Fine.' He hung the shirt on a hanger.

    Quinnan undid the top button and let his shirt
flap about him as he raised  one arm above his head
and leant casually against the locker beside his
own. He  crossed one leg over the other for support
and stuck his free hand on his hip.  'Tony not been
teaching you any bad habits, has he?'

    Ashton's hand froze on the way to the shirt
rail. Eyes like saucers, he  hastily deposited the
coathanger and its cargo in the locker. 'What do you
mean,  "bad habits"?' he replied, before peering
around the gunmetal-grey door. When he  did, he
found Quinnan was about a foot away from him, shirt
hanging open,  wearing nothing else but a pair of
jocks. Confronted with his coarse proximity,
contemplating the lumps in his briefs, it was all he
could do not to let out a  little 'eek' of terror
and wet himself. As it was he swallowed dryly and
inadvertently slammed his locker shut.

    Something wicked written in his smile, Quinnan
inclined his head towards  Ashton in a
conspiratorial huddle. 'Tony can be a very
corrupting influence.'  There was no one else in the
room, but effect was everything. And it worked.

    Mouth agape, Ashton's eyes flicked down to his
groin as he felt an  involuntary shift in the fabric
of his pants. By rights he should then have  looked
Quinnan right in the eyes, guilt gushing forth like
projectile vomit, but  his attention was diverted by
other things. Namely the hand that was brushing
across the hairy chest in front of him in lascivious
and very deliberate  movements, fingers ploughing
tracts in the black thicket. He suddenly felt very
self-conscious.

    Imperceptibly, given that Ashton was staring
open-mouthed at his naked  torso, Quinnan adjusted
his footing so that he was bodily closer to the
probationer. 'Well then,' he began.

    Ashton's head snapped up as though he had
forgotten there was one sitting on  the shoulders he
was so engrossed in. Quinnan was grinning at him. He
almost  swallowed his tongue.

    'If Tony has been teaching you bad habits, I'll
have to teach you the error  of your ways.'

    Ashton's eyes bulged in their sockets. He
mouthed a few words, lips  quivering, but nothing
came out. He swallowed again and blinked slowly,
unable  to move, as Quinnan dipped his head towards
him. 'Dave.'

    Quinnan paused, less than a breath away, and
looked Ashton in the eyes. They  were sparkling in
the reflected light. 'Yes Luke?'

    Ashton could count the stubble of Quinnan's five
o-clock shadow and smell  the remains of the day on
his lips. He tried to formulate a sentence. 'I -
I've  never - with Tony -' And failed. All the same,
he felt rather than saw Quinnan  smile.

    'I know.'

    The corners of his mouth turned slightly and
Ashton drew a nervous breath.  Surrendering himself
to the moment, he closed his eyes with what he hoped
was a  'take me now' acquiescent finality. The
outside world seemed to fade away,  leaving him
bereft of every sense but touch - which, in its
heightened state,  sent shockwaves through his body
at the warmth and softness of Quinnan's kiss.  Taste
returned to him then, though he dared not open his
eyes; he was  experiencing new sensations, all of
them unfamiliar, all of them indescribable,  and
didn't want reality to intrude.

    Nevertheless, his eyes popped open and he pulled
away at the approach of a  tongue. Not because it
shocked him, but because he didn't know what to do
with  it. 'Dave! What was that?'

    Quinnan smiled expansively. 'Lesson one.' He
stooped to another whisper,  brushing his hand
across his chest in encore. 'How about we skip the
rounds and  you get a little private tuition from
Uncle Dave?'

    The ability to generate coherent sounds had just
forsaken Ashton for the  second time in several
minutes when the locker room door burst open behind
him.  He spun around with the look of a startled
rabbit and backed straight into his  locker with an
echoing thud. As his brain tried to drain the blood
from his  nether regions and focus at the same time,
the hulking yet sedentary figure of  Tony Stamp
resolved itself before him. It all happened in about
half a second,  of course, but it felt like forever.

    Stamp glanced between Quinnan, who was still
stood leaning against the  neighbouring locker in a
semi-naked state, and Ashton, who looked as if he
was  about to disgorge his own lungs. 'Are you
coming or what?' he asked, frowning  protractedly.

    Ashton turned to Quinnan with a guilty
expression at the double entendre,  but he was just
staring at him. He hadn't even moved an inch.

    'Well?' Quinnan said.

    Ashton looked at Stamp, but his frown had
transformed itself into something  more interested.
He swung back to Quinnan, whose eyebrows twitched
slightly, and  smiled, eventually, remembering to
breathe. 'Yeah.'

    Quinnan righted himself and positively beamed.
'Alright then, Ton? We'll,  ah, meet you there in a
bit, yeah?'

    Stamp grabbed the door handle and nodded. 'Right
you are.'

    Ashton couldn't help himself, letting out a
dramatic sigh of release as he  turned back to his
locker to resume changing. Opening the door, he
snuck a  sideways at Quinnan and suddenly found
himself very attracted to the naughty  schoolboy
look. He smirked stupidly and started rummaging
about for a T-shirt.

    As Ashton tore his gaze away from him, Quinnan
gave Stamp a knowing wink.

    Stamp grinned, stepped out into the corridor,
and closed the door.