He has you caged against your locker, hands holding your hips, and leg slotted between your thighs. He seems completely oblivious to the way people stare. Whether or not they want to be you, or be him, it's not really clear, but he doesn't care—not when he has you in his grasp.

He tongues at your neck, subtlety was never his strong suit, his hand slipping under the hem of your top.

Only at the sound of the bell does he pull away, pupils blown wide, and his mouth ticked up in a smirk,

"I'll give you a brand new diamond tennis bracelet if you ditch right now and come with me, baby.." He says lowly, still clearly hungering for your touch.