A/N: some medic-ish roleplay, which could look like (very consensual in this case) abuse of power

"I spoke to a friend," Xander said, adding salad to Tim's plate.

"About me?" Tim slathered on creamy dressing, only stopping when he realized Xander was watching with a scowl.

"What? Sir? I thought you wanted me to eat more."

"Healthily, Angel, not heart stopping fats. Here, more chicken."

Xander had been doing that a lot. Controlling him. He'd bought more clothes a few days earlier, when he'd left Tim at home and met a friend; some of them not even blue, but Tim was alright with that, maybe was even starting to think that he could move away from that affectation. Soon. Not yet.

There was more. He was having a lot of say over what Tim put in his mouth. Well, obviously, but food too.

When he said it was time for bed, then it was time for bed. And same with getting up, though he did always allow Tim a sleep-in compared to his own six am start time. Xander had started talking about Tim joining his gym, and they mainly watched educational television, and the news. Xander didn't really approve of most of the frivolous programming, and he made Tim choose a novel from his shelves and read it, though he was mostly pretending. He was going to have to do something about that, because Xander had started to ask him questions that he didn't know the answers to. Maybe find an audio version.

It was confusing Tim, though. He liked Xander. Way too much based on how long they'd known each other, he knew that. And he thought Xander liked him back, at least almost as much. But there was something shameful, he could recognize that by the fact that he was reluctant to admit to Scotty and Ange how their relationship worked, no matter how many times Ange asked probing and far too personal questions. Whatever else he knew about relationships, he knew that wasn't quite right.

But he settled into it, reluctant to create unnecessary waves when he was generally so soul-searingly happy with his new situation. It wasn't as though he wasn't used to being controlled, and it was easy enough to tell himself this was different, because it was. Xander actually cared about him. Every decision that was made for him was made from a position of concern for his wellbeing. That, he hadn't experienced before.

"My friend, he works for the Hayden Planetarium as a research associate. Off the record, he told me they were about to hear on some additional funding, and if they get it they'll be looking for a paid intern. He said for you to send him your resume."

"But astronomy isn't my specialism, Sir."

"But it's all relevant, isn't it?"

"Sort of. I mean, I did some astronomy units, but there'll be a lot of people who are better qualified..."

"Perhaps, but, Angel, you have to accept help. Appreciate being in a lucky position and use it."

Xander didn't sound angry, but Tim couldn't help wincing away from the judgment in his voice, filling his mouth with salad leaves and chicken so he didn't have to respond.

Instead, when he'd carefully chewed the mouthful, he looked across, as wide-eyed as possible.

"Will you teach me some more today, Sir?"

"I don't know, Angel. I don't want you tired out or sore for the club tomorrow."

"Please, Sir."

Xander thought for a moment, a sweet grin taking over his face as the idea hit him.

"How about some role play? We can keep it relatively vanilla, because I want you tied down in my medical chair tomorrow, but it'll be good practice."

"Sounds good, Sir. What's the scene?"

"You're into it?"

"Well, I've never really done roleplay, but I can get into it if you are."

"Okay, finish dinner. I'll be back soon."

Xander disappeared with a skip in his step, and Tim felt good about making him happy. He'd said it was one of his biggest turn ons, and, honestly, Tim was kind of excited about letting go like that. He loved it when Xander took over sexually. He ate the rest of his dinner while he was waiting, chewing each bite slowly, like Xander had instructed him, allowing his mind to empty in preparation for what he hoped was coming.

"You finished?"

Tim almost choked on the sip of water he'd just taken. Xander was wearing scrubs. Soft-looking cotton almost the same sea-blue as his eyes, cut to skim the tight lines of his thighs and torso, the v-neck revealing a hint of smooth, golden skin. He was carrying a clipboard and tapped a pen against his teeth, looking Tim up and down like it was his first time of seeing him.

"Yes, Sir," Tim breathed, his heartbeat fluttering in excitement.

"Okay. You injured yourself playing sport. I'm going to help you."

Tim tilted his head, uncertain how that translated into the sexy times he was aching for. Xander was being so damn careful with him, and it was sweet, and made him feel good, but it was frustrating, too. And he couldn't do anything with that frustration because then he wouldn't be being good.

"I promise, Angel, we're building up to more," Xander said, as if he was reading Tim's mind. "But I don't want to rush you."

"Okay, Sir."

"Just go with it."

Tim hopped off the stool and followed Xander to the second bedroom, the one he'd slept in his first night there but hadn't been in since. He hadn't even realized the bed had been a pullout, and it was now folded back into a wide, comfortable-looking couch. The space created was taken by a large massage table, covered in soft white towels, and Xander had pulled a trolley up, though that had another towel slung over it, so Tim had no idea what might be in store.

"Right, Mr Preston, my notes say that you have a suspected pulled muscle."

"Er, yes, Mr, er?"

"Call me Xander, please."

"Okay. Xander. Yes, I was playing soccer, and pulled something in my leg. My thigh."

Tim figured he should play big if he wanted something.

"If you could strip down to your underwear, I'll take a look."

Tim had never been to a physio, but he suspected that wasn't the speed it normally went at, though he was happy to go with it, especially considering the extremely non-professional darkness in Xander's eyes as he watched Tim pull his t-shirt over his head and push his jeans down.

"Hop onto the bed," he instructed, and Tim sat, legs hanging, as he waited for Xander to pull the trolley closer.

"Open wide."

A tongue depresser flattened his tongue as Xander hummed, peering into his throat, raising the wooden stick and flattening further back, almost to Tim's throat, far enough that he had to breath hard to suppress his gag reflex.

"Very good," Xander murmured, replacing it with a glass thermometer under Tim's tongue. "Hold that."

Tim did, waiting patiently while Xander looked in his ears and shone a light in his eyes. It was strange, because there was barely anything sexual, ignoring the gagging thing, but he could feel something strumming in his blood, a shiver every time Xander spoke lowly close to his ear, an urge to reach and touch each time he moved around him.

"Hmmm," Xander's brows furrowed as he looked at the thermometer, shaking it and peering again. "This doesn't seem to be picking up your temperature. Mouth thermometers can be unreliable. We might need another method."

Tim had a feeling Xander wasn't about to shove one into his armpit and stopped a needy whimper with difficulty.

"Where does it hurt?"

"Uh, here." Tim pointed vaguely at the top of his thigh, and Xander's strong hands were there, fingers pressing into tender flesh.

"Here?" he asked, moving at the front, dangerously close to Tim's crotch, walking fingertips around to the side, slipping under the tight leg of his boxer shorts. "Or here?"

"There at the side, and, uh, and the back, too."

"Okay, very good. You're doing great, Mr Preston."

"Call me, uh, call me Tim."

"I'd love to, but policy says we must remain professional," Xander responded with a wink, making Tim giggle, but he straightened his face quickly when Xander looked at him contemplatively.

"I think I have to get a better look at that muscle. Lie on your stomach, please."

Tim did not fist pump. Not literally, anyway. When he was settled, Xander began massaging the muscles of his thighs, using a perfect pressure that was neither too light or heavy, but just soothing, and when his hands roamed higher, to Tim's butt, he couldn't hold in the moan. Who would have thought having your glutes massaged could be that relaxing? His body was responding while his face rested in the cut-out, and there was something about not knowing where Xander's hands were going next that increased the sensation, boiling warmth through his body, a knot in his gut that rivalled the knot in his throat as he became almost uncomfortably hard, pressed against the unrelenting surface of the table.

Xander murmured something that Tim didn't hear, but he reacted to the gentle encouragement to lift his hips so his boxers could disappear down his legs and off, and then Xander was massaging directly onto his goosebumped flesh, and he felt some kind of warmed oil drizzling over.

"You're doing extremely well, Mr Preston, but the twist in the muscle is deeper than I realized. I need to get a reliable temperature, and then, if all is well, I can assist with an internal massage."

Tim figured that was a cue to get a little deeper into his character.

"Internal?" he asked, lifting so he could see Xander, fluttering his long lashes to play up innocence.

"Yes, I can access the pressure points more effectively. I know it's intrusive, but I can assure you I know what I'm doing, and it will feel much better. You trust me, don't you?"

"Um, of course. I saw your credentials. It's just...I've ever done anything like that before."

"It's no different to a prostate exam, really, Mr Preston."

"I haven't had one of those," Tim allowed a sweet waver into his voice, begging for care, and was rewarded by a breathy exhale from Xander, his hand pushing soothing circles onto Tim's ass cheek.

"Oh dear, Mr Preston. I can see why you'd be nervous. Just relax, and I'll talk you through it."

Tim heard the snick of the bottle – lube, or oil, or something – and felt something cold at his entrance, letting out an uncertain whimper.

"This is just the thermometer. You've had your temperature taken rectally, haven't you?"

"Maybe, when I was a kid."

What was pushed inside him felt a lot larger than a thermometer – about the thickness and length of a finger, though it wasn't, as it was cold, until his body began to heat it, and Xander gently slid it back and forth for several minutes until Tim was panting with the need for something more. He wasn't sure how to ask though, not and remain in character, so he waited impatiently until he felt it leaving his body with a final twist.

"I just need to open you up a little so I can insert the massager."

"Oh, it's not your fingers?"

"At first, then I need something a little wider the reach the pressure points. Relax for me."

Tim moaned as Xander slipped two well-lubed fingers inside him, and then moaned even louder when he realized they were from different hands, when Xander began to move around his taut sphincter with similar, but smaller, massaging motions that he'd used before, his thumbs matching the movements from the outside, pressing down.

"You're doing extremely well, Mr Preston. How's that pain?"

"Ugh, pain? Yeah, no. No pain, it's working."

Tim was almost sleepy, if a person could sink into sleep at the same time as being incredibly aroused. His head didn't feel like his own, but in a good way, in a way where he knew Xander would take care of him. He whined when Xander's fingers slipped free, but he was shushed and petted, until he felt a cold hardness pressing against him. It was like the not-thermometer, except much bigger, and he shuddered, loving the cold material – maybe glass? – against his burning hot hole.

It slid inside easily, the smooth shape meeting no friction at first. Tim felt a widening as something popped inside, and he felt it pressing his prostate unrelentingly. Xander stopped there, holding it still, his other hand on Tim's lower back, and it felt like that was to prevent him floating away with the intensity.

"Are you massaging?" Tim managed to huff out when Xander still didn't move, trying to stay in character.

"In a moment. Just want to watch- uh, need to leave you stretched for a moment, so you're ready for the massage."

Tim probably didn't have to wait for long, even as it felt like forever, until Xander's hand went back to massaging his butt muscles, while the ball of the glass thing inside him was rhythmically pressed directly on his prostate, until he was clenching almost painfully against the unyielding intrusion, trying to stave of his orgasm.

"You know, Mr Preston, I think there's one thing needed to release all that tension inside you." Xander leaned forward, apparently done with the roleplay as he mouthed hot, breathy kisses against Tim's shoulder, whispering for him to come.

"That was a good practice for the club tomorrow, Angel," Xander murmured into Tim's neck when he'd cleaned him up and they were tucked up in bed. "I want you to wear an expander plug when we go."

"Is that what that was?"

"Yes, and you looked so fucking pretty with it keeping your hole spread. I want to know you're open like that, ready for me, when you meet my friends. That okay?"

"Totally green, Sir," Tim managed to mumble, before sleep dragged him down.

A/N: so they're finally going to the club, which, some of you may know, means certain issues only hinted at so far will be coming to a head.