The one where Dom acts on his crush.

[aelane.livejournal.com]

disclaimer


One.
Billy supposes it’s the way Dominic moves. Languid is the word that comes to mind, although he desperately wishes words that make him think of Dominic's lithe body moving and mewling beneath him wouldn’t spring to mind so easily.

Lithe.

Dammit. Dominic is a student and this line of thought completely unethical, he reminds himself. Focus on the lecture, which is hard because Dominic has just slipped off his sandals and stretched out his legs, sliding down in his seat and giving him a look that burns. Billy quite forgets what was so interesting about existentialism in the first place.

Two.
Ever since he’d taken his first philosophy course, Dominic has nurtured this crush—sought Boyd out, volunteered for projects, visited during office hours—anything to get close.

And he has learned many things. Not much philosophy, but fascinating things nonetheless. Things like knowing the good Professor only stumbles through a lecture when he feels nervous and, more importantly, what unnerves him. Dominic likes to push against the line of propriety that Boyd maintains.

Last year, and it would be a shame, he decides, if his crush comes to nothing. Stretching in his seat, he watches, amused, as Boyd stops mid-sentence.

Three.
Billy dismisses the class early, berating himself for being so easily distracted. He turns his back to the departing students, scrubbing a little too hard at his own barely legible handwriting from the blackboard.

“Professor Boyd?”

The eraser goes flying from his hand at the sound of his name. He doesn’t dare turn around, knows what he would see. Young Dominic Monaghan: jeans barely resting on his hips, tiny star tattoos on his foot, trendy stubble on his cheeks and sex in his eyes.

He kneels down, fumbling for the eraser, attempting to hide—well, whatever needs to be hidden.

Four.
Dominic smiles when the eraser goes flying but the professor on his knees stifles all thoughts of humor. How easy it would be to just pounce…

But, no. That isn’t the plan. The plan involves seduction. Reciprocation. A bed.

“I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wondered if maybe I could come to your office again to talk about—" What? The ethics of sleeping with students? Boyd stands up and Dominic inches closer. He can now plainly see why class had been abruptly cancelled. Dominic smiles in a manner he hopes feigns innocence. “To talk.”

Screw the plan.

Five.
“Em.” Synapses. Neurons. Impulses. Impulses that can be overcome. Now, focus, he chides himself. “Em.”

Dominic’s innocent smile is now quite predatory. The eraser drops again and Billy sags against the blackboard, using the chalk tray to hold himself upright.

“Now isn’t a good time.” There. He’d acted the professional. God, why is the boy moving closer?

“I think now is a very good time.”

Billy dares to look up, meaning to be stern, but there is the problem of a warm mouth on his own and the words ringing through his head like a siren, 'this is a student!'

Six.
Billy gives a half-hearted struggle before pulling Dominic closer, the kiss becoming more frenzied. Pinning Billy against the blackboard, Dominic feels the rush of triumph.

“Dr. Boyd,” Dominic mumbles as his mouth seeks the flesh right below Billy’s ear.

“Don’t call me that.” Billy bites back his words as Dominic’s hand creeps lower. He struggles to regain control, holding back a groan. “Stop. This is madness.”

“You want me.”

“You’re a student.”

“My last year.”

“You’re still my student.”

“Yours.”

“Not what I meant.”

Dominic smiles because even as Dr. Boyd—Billy—argues, his hands have inched underneath Dominic’s shirt.

Seven.
Dominic’s skin is hot, like Billy knew it would be, and his body thin and hard. His shoulder blades jut out sharply and Billy traces his fingertips along the edges. He wants so much to see them. Kiss them.

The sound of a zipper brings him back to reality.

Billy opens his eyes, shaking his head in an effort to clear the haze he felt has settled over his mind. He can see the empty lecture hall over Dominic’s shoulder, the chairs scattered from the exodus of students only a few moments ago.

“Not here. We can’t do this here.”

Eight.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it. Bend me over a desk. Give me an--” Dominic slides his hand into Billy’s trousers before whispering, “oral examination.”

“Dominic--” Billy’s voice is a warning that shatters Dominic’s name like a polysyllabic kaleidoscope. A warning that is ignored as Dominic roughly turns him towards the board and pins his arms behind his back. “Or is this what you want. To be taken.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Billy draws in a ragged breath.

“Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“If I wanted to take you here--”

“Please. If we’re caught…”

“You would obey.”

Nine.
Dominic’s voice is low and rough and feels like steel against his skin. Billy knows he will do whatever Dominic asks of him and wonders at this sudden need to please. The humiliation of being caught in an empty classroom while being fucked by a student seems nothing next to his need of having Dominic continue his seduction. He would obey; there is no other option. “I would.”

As he speaks the word, it’s over. Dominic releases him, turns him around and begins dusting chalk from his shirt, straightening his clothes.

“I said I would.”

“You said not here, Billy.”

Ten.
Billy’s cheeks flush red. A fucking mind game and he fell for it. He knocks Dominic’s hands from their task and pushes him away, trying to think of something to say that would cut as deeply. He feels exposed and dirty and a little more than foolish. “Don’t play with me. I can’t—"

“—You can, and you will take whatever I decide to give you.” Suddenly close, Dominic cradles Billy’s face between his hands, stroking his thumb over Billy’s lips. “I know what you want better than you think. Trust me. Go back to your office and wait.”

Eleven.
“No.”

“What?” Dominic drops his hands and stares in disbelief.

“I don’t think you know what I want at all, young Dominic, but I’m quite willing to show you.” Moving fast, Billy twists around and pushes Dominic against the blackboard. Hard.

“You seem fond of playing games. Let me teach you another.”

“Billy?”

“Professor Boyd. Say it.”

“Professor—“ Dominic’s words were cut off as Billy presses against him, demanding another kiss. When Billy pushes away, Dominic sags against the board, his knees giving under his weight.

Twelve.
“You’re good, lad, and I have to admit I’m sorely tempted.” Billy runs his hand down the tight line of Dominic’s body, letting his hand come to rest on Dominic's hip, dipping his fingertips just below the waistband. “But I don’t think you’re quite ready for the responsibility.”

“You could teach me.” Dominic’s voice was slightly breathless, eyes hooded.

“Aye. But I know what kind of student you are. Inattentive. Impatient.” Billy steps away leaving Dominic against the board while he gathers his things. “Tell me,” he says conversationally, “what would you have done had I gone to my office?”

Thirteen.

“Whatever you wanted me to.” By the professor’s single raised eyebrow, Dominic knows this is the wrong answer. Clearing his throat, he tries again. “I would have fucked you. I would have had you on your couch. I would have begged you to fuck me.”

“And is that what you want, Dominic? A brief interlude in my office. A fulfillment of a boy’s wet dream?”

Dominic shakes his head, his hand creeping between his thighs to rub at his cock through his jeans. “I want to belong to you, professor. I want you to want me back. I need you.”

Comments

[kiltsandlollies.livejournal.com]

Billy watches Dominic’s hand dip and rub, the heel brushing hard against the denim beneath it. Billy swallows and forces himself to look back up.

“Have you learned nothing in my classes, Dominic? To belong to someone or something is to never know yourself ...” Billy keeps his gaze on Dominic’s eyes, trying to ignore the flash of Dominic’s tongue as it slicks across his lips.

“You don’t need me,” Billy whispers. “You want me. Entirely different thing.”

Dominic’s hand is still moving, faster and harder, and it’s Billy’s turn to lick his lips.

“My office,” Billy growls, suddenly overtaken. “Now.”

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Billy allows Dominic to pull apart the buttons of his shirt, watching those enormous hands do their best to stay calm. It would amuse Billy if he weren’t already aching, and he wills Dominic to move faster, to touch him.

Dominic glows with an energy Billy wants to taste, to take from him greedily and shove right back into him at double speed. Billy has no idea whether Dominic really knows what he is getting into, but he can only assume that Dominic has done this before, and so will be prepared for what Billy plans to do to him.

And then Dominic starts talking again, and fears rise to the surface of Billy’s skin. Dominic calls him “Professor,” takes a shot at himself, and then trails off, leaving Billy frustrated in each case. Yes, he told Dominic to call him Dr. Boyd, but that seems like ages ago, back in his classroom, when there was a chance to turn back. There are no more chances now. And he could slap Dominic for allowing such cruel thoughts about himself to invade his thoughts. Billy wants to drill into Dominic the many things he’s accomplished in his few years, but now is not the time for that either. And as for Dominic’s incomplete thoughts, well, Billy forgets them the second Dominic touches his cock again and the breath leaves him in a rush.

Dominic pulls his shirt off, and Billy allows the lad to see his appreciation. Billy’s mouth hands open for a second before he leans down again, wanting to taste that skin bared all for him, but then Dominic’s hands are hiding what Billy wants, skating across the canvas Billy wants to paint with his teeth and tongue.

Billy reaches quickly between Dominic’s legs, grabbing him just hard enough so that Dominic is paying full attention to his words, and then Billy slaps away the hand still playing on Dominic’s chest.

“You’re not listening, Dominic,” he growls. “Not paying attention. If I want to watch you touch yourself, I will let you know. Until then, your hands are better served elsewhere.” He arches one eyebrow, making sure Dominic understands, before his grip on Dominic’s cock relaxes, and he runs his fingers gently against the denim. “Right,” he sighs. “We weren’t finished here.”

Billy rises up to open Dominic’s jeans and delve into his boxers. Billy’s hand closes around Dominic’s cock again, this time more gently, and he lowers himself down again, stroking Dominic while he licks along Dominic’s collarbone. “Be still,” he whispers. “Be still and it will be better.”

Billy does not look up to see Dominic’s reaction, relying instead on the pace of his student’s heartbeat for guidance. “I want to fuck you,” Billy whispers. “But you must relax. I won’t do what you don’t want. I have no desire to hurt you, Dominic, so you must relax.”

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Billy watches Dominic carefully from the corner of his eye, hoping the lad is telling the truth: that he’s not hurt, that this frantic, slightly frightening lovemaking was indeed what he wanted. When Dominic takes the tissues from his desk, Billy almost winces. It seems so ... So dirty, so imperfect, so messy, when Billy could have done everything so much more gently. So much better. Smarter. Kinder, Billy hisses to himself.

He can still hear Dominic’s voice in his ears, crying out his name. He is no longer just the professor, just Professor Boyd. Dominic has called him “Billy,” and Billy wonders if he will do so unconsciously in class. The thought makes him twitch slightly, so he brushes it away. Now he is entranced by the play of the sunset’s light on Dominic’s body as he stretches and cleans himself up. Dominic’s skin is darker than Billy’s, and in places rather marked up, but he is also strong and, yes, lithe. The word makes Billy smile again.

But then Blly’s face flushes the moment he sees Dominic reach for the little book of poetry. Billy had found it months ago, left behind after class and almost kicked to his feet when a passing student scurried through the aisle on her way out of class. He’d automatically flipped through the first several pages, trying to decipher whose book it was, but it quickly became obvious that it belonged to Dominic Monaghan.

Billy knows he should have returned it immediately—for all he knew it could have been a textbook, and at the prices the bookstore charges, it would have been cruel to force Dominic to purchase another—but then Dominic never came to ask about a lost book or to claim it after having seen it in Billy’s office. But of course Billy hadn’t really left it out to be seen anyway.

Dominic is waiting for a response, and Billy feels like he is floundering, a fish on dry land now that he’s been caught out.

“I don’t speak or read any German,” Billy says softly, trying to look away. “I did ... I confess I read some of your translations. And a few of your ... originals, I suppose?” He leans down to pick up Dominic’s shirt and hand it over. “I don’t have much of an eye for poetry, but they were very ... evocative. And good,” he adds, quickly. “Some are very good.”

Billy reaches for his own shirt now, pulling it on with an efficiency that seems terribly inappropriate given the circumstances. He tries to slow his hands, but they only end up shaking more. Billy takes a deep breath and gathers his tie from the floor now, holding it loosely between his hands.

“The one about ... the writer and his words, Dominic ...” Billy whispers, still playing with the tie. “Is that meant to be—what were you thinking while you wrote that?”

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Billy smiles broadly at Dominic's imitation of Dr. Wagner, a kind old man who actually knew Billy's name and that he'd come from St. Andrews, even though he should have had no reason to care. Billy misses the man, too. And Dominic's accent and mannerisms of Wagner's are spot on—Billy thinks that Wagner himself would laugh if he could see them.

"Of Gandhi, eh?" Billy smiles gently. "He was a good teacher, you're right. And a good man. We should all be so kind. To Wagner, then." Billy raises his glass and touches it to Dominic's before taking a healthy swig. Billy leans back in his chair and yawns, his body stretching hard, up and out, and then resettling. He runs one hand lazily across his face, and finds that Dominic's eating has slowed, and his face in now tight with emotion.

"So shy," Billy murmurs, his voice low and dark. "So quiet here with me when two hours ago y'were making such beautiful noise." Billy leans forward and returns his attention to his plate. As he eats, his mind races.

There are hundreds of things Billy would like to do for, with and to Dominic. Many of them involve keeping a closer eye on his student, making sure his grades are in good shape and that he is staying healthy, but now—after this afternoon, this evening—many more of them involve touching Dominic, teasing him, driving him mad, then giving him release of several different kinds. And in that release Billy plans to find his own. It's been a long while since Billy had a lover, and even longer since he'd been involved in a real relationship. Which of course he cannot consider this to be ... not with all the risks involved. Still, Billy knows better than to simply write off Dominic as a fling, a one–nighter. Even if Dominic does not yet know it, Billy has plans for this lad. And some of them involve Billy's hands.

"If you're finished, Dominic, do me a favour and get some music playing, yes?" Billy smiles. "You know where the player is in the front room. Just pick whatever you'd like to hear, and I'll package the rest of this up." Dominic's expression is still nervous, and Billy reaches across the table to grab his hand.

"Dominic, I ask you to trust me," Billy says softly, his eyes going the same dark green Dominic noticed in his office. "I have no intention of just throwing you across my bed and throwing you back out an hour later. You're welcome here tonight. I want you here. Take a look around, fix yourself a proper drink. I'll be out in a minute."