A/N: Very tiny change to chapter 8 - just took out the last paragraph. Why? Because I forgot the smut I wanted to include.

So here it is.

A slight warning that, to me, looks like under-negotiated kink (which is bad BDSM practice, make no bones about it), but to some, may look like dubious or non-consent, regardless of how into it the parties are.

Xander had happily listened to Tim when he'd said the shops he usually went to, and had then insisted on him listing the stores he'd like to use, if he'd had the money, and taken Tim there.

"I can't believe you got me all this, Sir," Tim trilled in the car as he shuffled through the countless bags of jeans and pants and shirts and t-shirts and boots. He was even wearing a brand new pair of Chuck Taylors, in blue, naturally, and his broken down pair, that he'd owned for at least eight years, had gone straight in a dumpster, without complaint. Hell, with all this, most of Tim's old clothes were going in the trash when he got home.

"It was my pleasure, Angel," Xander responded, leaning back in his seat, his hand stroking Tim's back as he leaned forward.

Tim knew Xander had no expectations when he bought him this stuff, but he'd seen the way the man's eyes had lit up in that last store when Tim had tried on the slim fit jeans and skinny unicorn tee and turned around so Xander could see the back view. He'd kept that outfit on, precisely because of that reaction.

"Sir," he said meekly, pulling out a stretchy rainbow-fabric belt from one of the bags, "I think this outfit would look even better with this belt. Would you help me put it on?"

The opaque partition was up, and Tim was feeling especially light as he pressed his body against Xander and held out the belt. Xander stared for a moment, his mouth slightly open.

"We've stopped?" Tim said in surprise as he glanced out of the window.

Xander glanced at his watch and sighed.

"We've hit rush hour. We could be here for a while."

Timing couldn't be better, as far as Tim was concerned.

"No one can see in those windows, can they?"

"No," Xander's eyebrows lifted, "they're fully tinted."

Before Xander could say anything, Tim unclipped his seatbelt and dropped between Xander's legs, looking up at him expectantly.

"Please, Sir?"

"Of course, Angel."

Xander took the belt, running it through his fingers while he watched Tim's flushed face. He didn't move his eyes, even when his deft hands pushed the belt through the first loop on Tim's jeans, and then the next, still watching, until Tim felt like he might vibrate out of his skin.

Xander clicked the metal buckle into place and took hold of Tim's shoulders, leaning him back slightly as he looked down, a smirk crossing his mouth when he saw the extremely visceral reaction his ministrations had had.

"It suits you, Angel."

Tim didn't respond; wasn't sure he could. Instead, when Xander let his hands fall, Tim leaned forward, his small palms resting on Xander's strong thighs.

"Yes, Angel?" Xander smiled.

"Can I, Sir?"

"Can you what?"

Tim huffed, there was no way Xander didn't know exactly what he was asking.

"Your words, Angel, you need to use your words."

"Can I suck you, Sir?"

He refused to break eye contact, but there was nothing he could do about the bright pink across his cheeks. Not that Xander seemed to care, if the dark look in his eyes was any indication.

"Yes, Angel, you may."

He leaned back again, and Tim set to work, excited to show what he could do. He was good at this, and he deftly unfastened Xander's pants and hooked his cock free, beautiful and golden skinned – enough to wonder if Xander went in for naked sunbathing, and to get an image of such a thing in his mind – watching in wonder as it began to fill under his gaze.

He didn't waste time on that, though, lapping several long stripes up the length, twisting his limber tongue across the velvety flesh. It tasted perfect, fresh and clean, regardless of their long day, just the hint of musk, the masculine scent running straight to his own cock. He was tempted to free himself, but this wasn't about him, so instead he focused on his skills – earned and documented – sucking the head into his mouth and sliding down, testing the length. It reached the back easily and he pulled back, bobbing a few times, getting into his perfect headspace to give in to what he wanted.

When he finally dipped down further, swallowing the tip into his throat, he was gratified by the deep groan from Xander, the sound of nails scraping on the soft leather seat. He held it, using his throat muscles, pulling back only far enough to suck in air before lowering back down, until he'd taken every inch and his nose was pressed into tidy blond curls. He was on a roll, his head perfectly zoned to do nothing but be this for his Dom, and it felt good, better that he'd expected could be possible.

He felt Xander's hands running through the soft waves on top of his head, one clenching, just a little, pulling when Tim slid down, and he whined in pleasure at the sharpness.

"Can you hold your hands behind your back, Angel?"

Tim didn't say anything, just swung his arms back, pinning a wrist with a hand, still bobbing rhythmically.

"If you need to stop, pinch my leg."

Tim wasn't sure why he'd need to stop, he was enjoying-

Xander's hands clenched harder, holding him down at the deepest point, Xander's hips thrusting him into Tim's throat. He couldn't breathe, though thankfully the last one he'd managed had been a big one. He moaned into it, his eyes rolling back with both the feeling and the knowledge that Xander was owning him so hard. It took a slightly panicked moment before he achieved the rhythm to be able to sniff air in at just the right point when Xander was on a downstroke, but he was still getting lightheaded.

"I think you like me using you, pretty little slut," Xander murmured as he thrust up and Tim whined into it, even higher when he felt Xander's leg shift, and felt the top of his shoe pressing against his dick, hard in his jeans.

"Do you want to come, slut?" Xander hissed, tightening his grip on Tim's hair.

He clearly took Tim's muffled whimper as a yes, and rubbed harder.

"Fuck yourself on my leg. Come if you can, but you stop the minute I'm done. And don't stop your effort, or you'll be in real trouble."

Tim wanted to, so bad, but it was difficult to focus on his own pleasure when so much of his mind was taken with making Xander feel good. It was working, if the words Xander was muttering were any indication.

He didn't think he was going to make it, despite the crackling along his spine and the coil in his gut, but when Xander stuttered, holding him down harshly, he felt it rise as he felt his oxygen abating.

"Don't spill a drop, slut...my god, you really are a perfect Angel."

Tim was genuinely unsure which of the sentences was the one that tipped him over the edge, but, as his throat worked wildly to take in every drop of Xander's cum, he felt himself fly loose, falling back in exhaustion the moment Xander let go of his hair.

"Shit, Timothy," Xander laughed, pulling him up and back onto the seat, wrappig his arms over his shoulders and dropping sweet kisses over his cheeks and forehead and tear-filled eyes.

"Sorry, Sir," Tim snuggled into his side, barely caring about the already-cold patch in his jeans.

"You were amazing. Here," Xander held a bottle of water to his lips, letting him sip from it until it was almost empty.

Tim felt secure, wrapped in Xander's arms, clipped back into his seatbelt as the car began to move. Almost able to forget he was going to have to work tonight. 

A/N: Don't worry - the disconcerting nature of how that came about will be addressed