La Maison 4: Blue (Complete: BDSM manxboy)

Chapter 4: Office Hours

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...