The one where Dom acts on his crush.
Oct. 12th, 2003 11:02 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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inclineoftrees 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.”
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.”
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no subject
Date: 2003-10-28 06:09 am (UTC)"You were so good," Billy whispers in Dominic's ear before he kisses him. "You have ... an amazing body, Dominic, and the most perfect eyes." Billy runs his fingers over Dominic's eyelids, and his voice deepens. "The things I could teach you, lad. The things you could teach me." Billy's eyes flit to the clock on the opposite wall, and he sighs again. He can barely move, and he's almost certain that Dominic is in no shape to leave just yet either. But it's late, and Billy knows they have to leave the building soon. Already they've taken an enormous risk doing this in Billy's office.
This part is harder. Billy's unsure what he should do now. Oh, of course, he chould calmly suggest that Dominic be on his way, that they never speak of this again, that they never see each other outside of class. But what has just happened is the culmination of months of wanting on both their parts, and Billy needs to know that he's done more than just fulfill a fantasy.
Billy's hands, now running slowly and peacefully up and down the sides of Dominic's chest, graze over rib bones, and finally Billy has an idea.
"Are you hungry, Dominic?" Billy asks gently, hopefully. "May I—would you like to get something to eat?"
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Date: 2003-10-28 05:17 pm (UTC)Standing up, Dominic grabs some tissues from Billy’s desk, attempting to clean himself off some. He looks at the things strewn across Billy’s desk, knowing already what he’ll find there from his many previous visits but suddenly everything about the office has new meaning and he wants to memorize it all. He still is not sure that Billy will allow him to come here again. Then he sees it: a volume of German poetry that Dominic had thought he lost ages ago, tucked away on a bookshelf near Billy’s desk.
Dropping the tissues into the waste bin, Dominic stretches to pluck the book off the shelf. He opens it and sees his own handwriting where he had tried to translate his favorite poems, places where he had tried to write his own—his cheeks tingeing pink slightly as he remembers that some of these were about Billy though, he thinks with some relief, he never penned Billy’s name anywhere in the book. Still, he knows that Billy could probably have identified himself in some of the lines if he had bothered to read them.
“Where did you find…” Dominic turns towards Billy, holding the thin book in his hand. Billy, dressed only in his trousers, is watching him with an expression that Dominic can’t read. “I thought I lost it a long time ago. I remember the last time I had it I had been writing in it during your class. I was afraid…” He looks up, a little hopeful, his voice soft. “Did you read them? Mine, I mean.”