Tim didn't even bother trying to focus on the tutorial on Friday. He was safe in the knowledge that he already had everything he needed for his assignment, and he had other things on his mind. Like the slightly uncomfortable feeling in his underwear as lube he'd been in too much of a rush to wipe properly stuck them to his ass cheeks.

Even with that problem, though, he could barely take his eyes off Xander, who was wearing a pale blue button down with the sleeves rolled up. Tim wanted to lick those forearms, wanted to cling to them while those beautiful, long-fingered hands were wrapped around his throat, taking him to the stars.

He zoned out so hard he didn't even realize class was over, and everyone else had left.

"Are you okay, Timothy? You seem a little...preoccupied?"

This was it. He knew Mr. Miller's student hours were on a Wednesday for this class, and he had no qualms in ignoring pleas from students to see him other times, so he'd told himself, or, at least Virgil had convinced him, that if Mr. Miller agreed to see him now, that there was something there.

"Actually, Sir, I was wondering if you could help me with something, in your office?"

He hadn't realized how nervous he'd be. How much importance he was placing on the outcome of this. He knew he wouldn't be brave enough to try again, if he was rejected. But he wasn't. Mr. Miller got a smile on his face that was almost dangerous, but the shiver that ran through Tim was nothing but pleasurable.

"Of course. Come."

Tim followed him, with a little difficulty in keeping up with his long strides, making it to the Humanities building in half the time it would normally take him. He was getting worried that his sweaty, red face was hardly going to be a turn on, but then he remembered he was taking a different direction with this, and his face got even more flushed.

They walked into Mr. Miller's office – a small room with one big window, the other two walls entirely taken up with shelves stacked floor to ceiling with books. As Tim heard the door click shut behind him he gulped, trying to remember all the things he and Virgil had discussed about how to make this work.

"Sit, Timothy."

"Tim, Sir," he said as he sat with a little wince in the guest chair, while Mr. Miller leaned against his desk, his oh-so long legs stretched out in front of him, his hands resting behind him, showing off the broad lines of his strong chest. This wasn't going to work. The man couldn't have been any more out of Tim's league if he was an actual Greek god, instead of just looking like one.

"I can positively see your mind whirring. What is it?"

"Um, can you help me some more with my assignment?"

That was absolutely not what he was supposed to be saying. By now he should be on his knees, doing something he was good at, even if it had been a long time since he'd done it on a real person instead of a dildo. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't find the words. Mr. Miller sighed.

"How much of your final assignment have you written?"

"None of it."

"What?"

He sounded angry, and Tim flinched.

"I've-,"

"You're telling me you haven't even started it?"

He had, he had started it. He'd done all of the research, he only had to put it together in a presentation, but he was rendered mute by his teacher's fury; he couldn't even bear to look up and see that look on his face...

"Are you trying to make me angry? After I helped you? Are you trying to get a punishment?"

No, no he didn't want a punishment. He shrank back into his chair, still unable to look up.

"Stand up." The instruction was cold, but Tim was picked up like a puppet, and he stood, hoping he wasn't going to get yelled at more, just trying to find the words to explain properly...

He was shifted before he really knew what was happening, he could feel the hard line of the desk across his thighs, could feel Mr. Miller's strong body pressed against his back, his arm wrapping Tim's body, ending with his hand at his throat, firm, but not squeezing, just a promise. Tim reached up, scrabbling to cling to Mr. Miller's forearm, in a re-enactment of his fantasy trying to come to life.

"Are you being a bad boy on purpose?" The voice was a purr, a gravelly threat that ran down Tim's spine. He took a breath, this was his chance.

"No, Sir. I want to be good. For you. I want to be good for you."

"Good boy," sending another bout of electricity through him, "I thought that was the case. But then, here we are."

"Sir, please, I have done work. I promise. I only have a little left to finish."

Mr. Miller hadn't shifted, was still pressed against him, and Tim could feel his length hardening against his ass, moved the tiniest amount just to feel it.

"Naughty. Be still."

Tim whined, stopping his movement, waiting.

It was a little overwhelming, no matter how much he wanted it. The man somehow exuded power, regardless of the almost ethereally beautiful package he was wrapped in. And he didn't really know how to get what he wanted, so Mr. Miller's next question couldn't have come at a worse time.

"What do you want, Timothy?"

"Sir?"

"From this. You came in here all delicious and cheeky, telling me you hadn't done your work, like you want to be punished. But I can feel you shaking. Is it too much? Did you change your mind?"

"I- I-," he didn't know and it brought tears to his eyes. He tried to remember the plan, but too much other stuff was whirring through his mind. "Xander, please."

The reaction was instant but calm. Mr. Miller pulled his hand away and stepped back, leaving Tim pressed against his desk, hands clenched, feeling bereft at the loss of the warm body.

"Sir?" he couldn't help the needy complaint, but Mr. Miller sucked in a breath.

"Jesus, you really are a perfect angel, aren't you? The things I want to do to you... But I live by rules, Angel. Since I realized you might be feeling something similar to what I'm feeling for you, you've never used my first name. I bet you don't even use it in your own head."

Tim flushed, looking intently at his curled fists, flexing them.

"You aren't as easy to read as most of the boys I've dealt with. You will have to use your words."

"I, I-." This shouldn't be so hard. He was being told to speak. And he didn't think he'd get a bad, hypocritical reaction if he did. But he didn't actually know the words he was trying to get out. "What did you mean, rules?" is what he went for instead.

"I want you, Angel. Right now it's taking everything in me to not bend you over this desk and take you. But I won't do that with someone who I'm not sure even wants it. And who wants it the way I'm able to give."

Tim whimpered, nodding, but still unable to form words. He could feel tears beginning to form but sucked them back.

"You don't like making decisions, do you?"

Tim shook his head.

"Words. That's non-negotiable at this stage. You'll have plenty of time to be mute in the future."

"Sorry, Sir. No. I- I want someone else to do that stuff."

"Just anyone?"

"No. Some people aren't nice."

"But I am?"

"I think so. Aren't you?"

He doesn't answer, tilting his head instead. "Why do you call me Sir?"

"It's what I was taught."

"Authority figures?"

"Yes."

"So I'm an authority figure to you?"

Tim thought. That wasn't it. Though he wasn't sure he'd be able to explain it. He wasn't sure he knew the explanation anyway.

"So, you want someone to make the hard decisions for you, to make you be the best person you can be. Someone to guide you and protect you. Someone who expects things from you but will support you to achieve them."

Tim turned his head, his mouth open in shock.

"How did you- I didn't even know it."

"There's something about you, Angel. I barely know you, but I do want to be that person for you. But, for me, that's where the rules come it. Have you heard of Dominance and submission?"

"Like in BDSM? I mean, I've seen porn-,"

"Hmm. That could be a problem."

Tim found himself back in the chair, guided there by strong, sure hands, as he watched Xander (he felt weird using his name, even in his head, but he'd noticed the comment and was determined not to lose himself in whatever was currently happening) pull out a shiny gold pen and start to write on a new, clean page, his blue-inked handwriting printed and beautifully curved.

It was several minutes before he re-capped the pen and passed the book back. Tim looked at the writing, furrowing his brow to focus on the words.

"There are two books on there, and I'll bring them to you on Monday. The rest are websites. That one and that one," he pointed at the lines, "are practical information. You could get lost in there for hours, but they can be a little dry, and might be daunting. There are four blogs, and one of them is written by a Dom, so they offer real world information from people in the know. And that one, well, it's a kink club in L.A., and they have a live feed. I've written my username and password so you can access it. They put a public show on every Friday and Saturday evening. I suggest you read a little before you look. It can be a lot."

"Okay, thank you, Sir."

Xander lifted Tim's chin, his hazel eyes unblinking.

"Will you look tonight?"

"Um, no, I-,"

"You have something better? Do you have to go to work?"

"Work? Uh, no. I decided not to tonight. Just, you said to read. I'm, I'm not a very fast reader. And I said I'd meet my best friend."

"Oh. Do you need to rush off?"

"No. His girlfriend's in class. We'll all hang out later."

"In that case, how about I show you a little something of what you can expect?"

"Yes, yes please, Sir."

Before he could blink, Tim found himself back up, back against the desk, Xander's strong body pressed again, Tim's own brain short-circuiting in arousal, despite the fact that nothing had happened yet.

"You have no idea, sweet Angel, what you saying that does to me."

"I, I think I can guess, Sir," Tim said, feeling braver that Xander seemed almost as affected as him.

"So naughty," Xander breathed against his ear, hands sliding under his blue t-shirt, softly exploring in apparent innocence, though it didn't stop the blaze building in Tim's blood. He let his head fall back against Xander's shoulder as he was pulled upright, Xander's hand sliding higher, passing over one nipple, the flick of the bar pulling a moan from his throat.

"I like this. Such pretty glittering treats for me," he murmured, rubbing over the other one.

His other hand travelled down, slipping easily inside Tim's jeans and brushing over the hardness held behind his tight boxers.

"Already hard for me, so eager."

Every word was making Tim more desperate; aching and ready. He mewled, pressing back against Xander, reaching a hand up, only to have his wrist taken and squeezed, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to remind him he was small and weak. He'd spent his life knowing that, and never in a good way, but here, with Xander, it felt liberating, even more so when he was pushed forward, bent at the hips, open and vulnerable, knowing his jeans weren't going to protect him.

Xander gathered up his other wrist, joined them at the small of his back, and Tim thunked his head on the desk with a happy whimper. His jeans were deftly unbuttoned and pooled at his ankles.

"What's this?" Xander whispered, running his hand over Tim's ass, clad in bright blue. Tim knew he could see the patch of moist fabric and, more, the protuberance that pulled the line of the cotton.

"Did my Angel get all dressed up for me?" And, Lord, that possessive claim did all sorts to Tim, exacerbated by the press of Xander's fingers against the base of the plug, pushing hard enough that the shift of the plastic inside him was almost uncomfortable.

"I like those noises you make," he leaned in, whispering in Tim's ear as he slid the blue boxers inexorably down, until his thighs were pinned by the constricting fabric. Tim felt the plug twisting inside him, and then being drawn out, so slowly, so deliberately, forcing his walls to give in. He moaned when it got to the widest point, held still as he clenched, trying to relax but too strung out on the feeling. Xander chuckled as he finally drew it free, sucking in an appreciative breath.

"You're beautiful, Angel. All stretched out and ready for me, though I wish we had time for me to really show you all I can do to this sweet little body of yours." Xander left his hand on Tim's wrists as he moved around the desk, reaching into a drawer. Tim could vaguely see, through half-closed eyes, a clear bottle and a silver square, and then he'd returned, as was against him again, leaning over and whispering the sweetest things.

"Are you sure you want this?" Xander breathed it heavily, but Tim knew he'd stop if he said no. So he didn't, because he didn't want to, and he felt him, pushing against his hole, which had reflexively closed, though he focused on relaxing, resting his cheek on the cool wood of the desk.

Tim felt as though the long slide would never end; it was too much, the feeling of care, and gentleness, as Xander kept telling him what a good job he was doing, and how good he felt, and he felt his finish build and rise, flowing forward without anything touching his dripping cock.

"Can you hold on until I tell you?" Xander whispered, everything feeling like a great secret shared between them.

"Yes, Sir," Tim managed to moan, as he was pulled up, still pinned by the wrists, and he felt a hand on him, still, steady, as the thrusts from behind became faster, harder; owning and possessive, and everything.

"Please, Sir," he managed, as the sensation filled and crested, and he knew he couldn't hold back.

"Let go for me," was the permission he needed, and he quivered, tenseness in every line as he gasped his release, and felt a corresponding tremor inside him.

"Do you know what that means?" Xander asked, milking the last bits of Tim's orgasm until he let out a whimper at the overstimulation. "It means you're mine, Angel, all mine."

A/N: I've liked switching between the two POVs but I knew it wouldn't last - so I think the next chapter will be Tim again.

I would love so so much to hear what you think of it. 

I do have the broad outline planned out, but I'd also love to hear if you have any thoughts on what you'd like to see between these two.