La Maison 4: Blue (Complete: BDSM manxboy)

Chapter 1: Welcome to the Show

A/N: numero uno - I changed the name - this was going to be called 'Boy', it's now called 'Blue'.

2: I am writing it at the same time as 'Pretty' but they don't take place at the same time (I just like variety, which is why I also write on AO3, if you like you some fanfic) - this takes place after Pretty, and during 'Colors' (you might recognize scenes if you've read that one, but you don't have to have read it to read this).

3: Kink. If you've read my other stuff, you'll know I go for rather gentle BDSM, usually. Excessive possessiveness and control is dealt with as a Bad Thing (TM). Not so here. So that is a heads up - this will be more in the direction of 'traditional' BDSM relationships as they fall in fiction. And Xander is, by far, the kinkiest Dom I've written (so far).  So there will be medical fetishism (Xander's 'thing'), which will include sounding, psuedo-examination/role play, catheters and urolagnia, enemas, as well as caning, electrical play, and cum play (okay, they're both pretty kinky).

Warned and still interested (I hope)? Have fun.

"And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why philosophy as we understand it was formed and developed by the Greeks. Please ensure you complete the section ten reading before the next lesson and come prepared to discuss your interpretations."

Xander gathered up his papers, shoving them haphazardly into his briefcase, ignoring the lustful looks from his students. He'd been doing this for two years and was used to avoiding anything inappropriate, even if it was like running a gauntlet some days.

"Professor Miller, I was wondering if we could talk about Plato? I'm going to present about him for my final assessment." The black-haired beauty fluttered her eyelashes and made sure her voice was breathy and demure. Xander hid the roll of his eyes before looking up at her with a strained smile. He wasn't even a damn professor (though, to be fair, the name did a little something for his particular desires).

"Erica, you know when my office hours are, but perhaps you should be arranging a meeting with your fellow students. It's what the great philosophers did, after all."

She pouted prettily but he just kept the vague innocuous smile up until she turned away with a huff.

He waited. He'd been a lecturer in Classics for two years, and never had any trouble staying professional with his students. Never tempted – why would he have been when François had an entire fricking stable of beautiful and well-trained submissives for him to choose from – until lately. And the reason for that temptation came barreling back in the room now, his blue-dyed hair fluffy, sandy roots showing, his skin almost translucent in its paleness.

As he had been every week when he'd done this exact thing, he was apologetic, his voice genuinely breathy and demure, so quiet Xander had to strain to hear his words.

"I'm sorry, Sir. I forgot my jacket." He dropped his books haphazardly on the desk pushing his skinny arms into the old denim jacket.

"That's okay, Timothy." Xander stood, moving closer, gathering the boy's books back up for him as he struggled to get his hand through the cuff. He took a breath. The boy smelled incredible. Xander wanted to ask him what washing powder he used, just so he could surround himself with that scent always, but he stopped himself.

"You did write down the reading, didn't you?"

He hadn't their very first week, and Xander had been treated to the sight of the boy in almost-tears their second lesson because he hadn't understood what they were discussing, the green magnified by huge sweet tears welling. He would like to see that again, very much, but preferably not in the middle of a tutorial, in front of a group of unsympathetic teens. In front of him only, or perhaps a select group of his friends, if the boy could be encouraged in that direction.