Spikedluv's Scribblin'
~BtVS/Ats~
Back to Spike/Xander Fanfic
Playing Games 3: Lessons
by Spikedluv
Pairing: Xander/Spike
Rating: NC17/Slash
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Xander has a lesson to learn from his new Professor.
Notes: PWP, non-con
Feedback: It’s ALL about the feedback (and naked Spike)! Don’t make me beg, it’s not pretty.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, just borrowing them for awhile. Everything belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui Enterprises, Grr Argh, the WB, UPN and whomever else they really belong to, although I wouldn’t mind having a Spike of my own. Who would? The story is mine, though.
Thanks: To Tammy, for the most excellent beta! You are a gem among—uh—other shiny stuff.
Written: June 19, 2004
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Xander pushed the door open and stepped into the classroom with a cocky stride. He knew he looked good. He always looked good. This afternoon he wore a black leather jacket over a white t-shirt, black leather fingerless gloves, and tight black jeans tucked into black boots. He carried a black motorcycle helmet with purple lettering on the sides tucked beneath his arm, and silver-framed mirrored sunglasses dangled from his fingers.
“Mr. Harris,” the substitute teacher sitting behind the desk said without looking up from the papers he was grading. “So good of you to make it.”
He left off the ‘finally’, but Xander heard it anyway. “Wouldn’t miss it, Professor,” he replied with a smirk.
“That is Mr. Bradford, to you, Mr. Harris,” Mr. Bradford said, raising his eyes and looking at Xander over the tops of his wire rimmed glasses.
The smirk didn’t leave Xander’s face. He sauntered over to the desk and past the front of it, seating himself on the far corner. “Sure thing, Professor,” he said, resting the helmet on his leg and leaning his arm on it, then swinging his foot and letting his heel bump annoyingly into the metal desk.
“Mr. Harris,” Mr. Bradford said, ignoring Xander’s use of the hated nickname, “you are in quite enough trouble, do you really believe it necessary to create more for yourself?”
Xander let his eyes wander over the man who was replacing the regular instructor for the rest of the school year. He was slender, wore a tweed jacket over a blue button-down shirt, and had light brown hair that was gelled on the sides and wavy on top, and dusky blue eyes that were complemented by the shirt. The contrast of nerdy teacher and sexy professor wasn’t lost on Xander.
When he realized that Mr. Bradford was staring at him with one eyebrow raised in exasperation behind his wire frames, he pretended to pick a piece of lint off his jeans and said in a bored tone, “What trouble?”
“Your grades, Mr. Harris,” Mr. Bradford stated. “You cannot possibly be unaware of the dismal status of your academic record.”
Xander nearly moaned when he hardened at the clipped British accent. He wondered if he could get the man to use that tone again.
“I’m not unaware,” he assured the teacher, taking a quick peek to make sure the helmet hid his burgeoning erection. “But Peterson and I already worked it out.”
“Mr. Peterson is no longer in charge of this class. Or your appalling grades,” Mr. Bradford informed him.
Xander sighed and rolled his eyes. “I suppose you and I could work out an arrangement like I did with Peterson.” He tried to maintain his bored attitude, but wasn’t sure if he was successful.
“Excellent idea, Mr. Harris. Here.”
The instructor slapped a paperback book down on the helmet in Xander’s lap, and he jumped to catch it before it fell off. He held it up and read the cover. “‘Of Mice and Men’?” He looked at the teacher over the top of the book. “What’s this for?”
“It is a novel. The one you should have read for the assignment due in today’s class. The very same assignment the rest of your classmates managed to complete, in fact,” Mr. Bradford replied. “Unless you did it and merely forgot to turn it in?”
Xander shook his head, amused that the instructor actually thought he was going to get any work out of him.
“Then why don’t you have a seat...” He indicated a desk in the front row. “...and begin reading it now?”
Xander slid off the teacher’s desk and set his helmet and sunglasses, along with the book, down on the desk the other man had pointed out. Instead of sitting down and beginning to read, he turned back to the instructor. Slipping his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans, Xander strolled around the desk, stopped next to the teacher’s chair, and leaned his ass against the edge of the desk.
Mr. Bradford leaned back in his chair. “It will be difficult for you to read the assigned text when you are here, and it is there.” He indicated the book with a tilt of his chin.
“I’ve a counterproposal,” Xander stated, leaning in towards the teacher. “I thought we might come to a...different type of arrangement.”
“Similar to that which you had with Mr. Peterson?” Mr. Bradford asked.
“Oh, yeah,” Xander breathed, staring at the teacher’s lips.
“And what kind of...arrangement...would that be?”
“Well,” Xander drawled, pushing his way past the instructor’s legs until he stood between them. “Once a week I’d drop by so Mr. Peterson could suck me off...” He cupped his groin suggestively. “...and he made sure I passed his class.”
“Let me see if I understand you correctly, Mr. Harris,” Mr. Bradford said, his fingers steepled in front of his lips. “For the privilege of...sucking you off...I will ensure that you pass this course?”
Xander smiled and reached out to stroke his thumb over the teacher’s lips. “Got it in one, Professor,” he said softly.
Mr. Bradford grabbed his wrist and pushed Xander’s hand away from his face, his grip tighter than Xander would have believed possible from the slim frame. “As I said before, Mr. Peterson is no longer in charge of this class, or your grades, so I suggest you take your seat and begin reading, Mr. Harris,” he said firmly.
Xander’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think you understand,” he ground out, twisting his arm as he tried to free it from the other man’s grasp. “I. Don’t. Do. Homework.”
“You will if you want to pass this class,” Mr. Bradford responded evenly, not even breathing hard or breaking a sweat as he easily held off Xander’s struggles.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Xander demanded angrily, still trying in vain to free his arm.
“I cannot possibly be the first teacher to insist you complete your class work,” Mr. Bradford said in disbelief. “But insist, I shall. And if you continue to act like a spoiled brat, then that is how I shall treat you. Now. Seat yourself and begin reading.”
“Not in this lifetime,” Xander snarled.
The instructor sighed deeply. “Very well. Remember that you brought this upon yourself.” He pulled a drawer open and reached inside it.
“Brought what...?” Xander began, breaking off when Mr. Bradford pulled a wooden ruler out of the drawer and snapped it down on top of the desk. “What do you think you’re going to do with that?” he asked arrogantly.
“Most likely, precisely what you think I’m going to do,” Mr. Bradford stated equably.
“I don’t think so,” Xander snorted, refusing to let the smaller man intimidate him.
“If you are not willing to learn your lesson...” Mr. Bradford inclined his head towards the desk that held the novel. “...then I shall be forced to teach you another. Your choice,” he said reasonably. “Will you read the novel?”
“No.” Xander raised his chin belligerently.
Mr. Bradford shrugged. “Very well, then.”
In a move Xander never anticipated, nor saw coming, the teacher stood, shoved the chair back with his legs, swung Xander around and pulled his arm behind his back, and then pushed him down over the desk.
“What the fuck?” he cried out in surprise. “Get off me!” He bucked, struggling to dislodge the other man’s grip on his arm, and kicked out at his legs.
Mr. Bradford merely pushed Xander’s arm up into the middle of his back, easily subduing him. Xander froze, afraid the teacher was going to dislocate his shoulder if he continued to battle him.
“You will be sorry you ever laid a finger on me,” Xander growled.
“Twenty-five, I think,” Mr. Bradford said, ignoring his ineffectual threat.
“Fuck you, Professor,” Xander sneered, looking back over his shoulder at the other man.
“On each buttock,” Mr. Bradford added.
At the determined look in the teacher’s eyes, Xander felt a frisson of fear slide up his spine. At the same time, heat pooled in his groin, snaking tendrils into his belly and down trembling thighs.
“Count them,” Mr. Bradford instructed as he brandished the ruler.
“Bite me,” Xander hissed, shuddering from an unforeseen bolt of delight at being held down. He sucked in a breath in anticipation of the spanking the teacher was threatening him with. Without another word of warning, Mr. Bradford brought the ruler down on Xander’s ass. He yelped at the unexpected sting.
“You are going to count fifty,” Mr. Bradford stated, “and I will keep hitting you until you do.” Thwap! “And if you think my arm will tire before your willfulness...” Smack! “...you would be sadly mistaken.” Snap!
“One!” Xander finally cried out. Christ, that hurt worse than he’d imagined it would. He tried once more to free himself from the other man’s iron grip, but his efforts were in vain. “Two!”
“That’s a good boy,” Mr. Bradford said, his tone almost tender. “Now why must you be naughty and force me to punish you?” Xander moaned at the softly spoken words.
The teacher continued to spank Xander with the ruler, and Xander was breathing heavily as he tried to manage the pain while he counted the blows off. “Thirty!” he panted as that blow landed.
Mr. Bradford laid the ruler down on the desk and Xander felt a moment of hope that his punishment was over. His stomach plummeted when the teacher reached beneath him and began working the buttons of his fly.
“No,” Xander moaned, unsure whether he was more concerned about the spanking continuing on his unprotected ass, or the professor discovering the hard-on beneath his jeans.
“You’ve been such a bad, bad boy, Mr. Harris,” Mr. Bradford purred. “You need to be taught a lesson, don’t you?” He tensed. “What’s this?” he asked, reaching into Xander’s jeans and wrapping his fingers around his erection. “You’re not enjoying your punishment, are you, Mr. Harris?”
Xander frantically shook his head while Mr. Bradford lightly stroked his cock. “Oh, god, no!” he cried. “Please...”
“I should hope not,” Mr. Bradford said, releasing Xander.
Xander nearly groaned his disappointment aloud. So intent on the electric tingles in his groin, he barely felt the teacher pull his jeans and briefs down around his knees. Xander jumped and yelped when the ruler came down on his bare flesh. “Thirty-one!” he automatically cried.
Mr. Bradford spanked him nineteen more times with the ruler. The fingers of one hand curled white-knuckled over the edge of the desk, Xander was nearly sobbing from the pain by the time the teacher laid the ruler down.
“There now,” Mr. Bradford said, speaking gently as he tenderly rubbed cool palms over flesh that burned with heat. Xander pushed back into the touch. “I believe you’ve learned your lesson, haven’t you, Mr. Harris?”
“Oh, yes,” Xander moaned, his cock twitching as the teacher’s thumb slipped between his buttocks and gently caressed his virgin pucker. He couldn’t believe that he’d gotten hard from being held down and manhandled, or that his erection had survived the painful sting of the ruler.
“I don’t want to do this again,” Mr. Bradford said, “but I will if I have to. If this is what it takes for you to learn your lesson.” The teacher continued to knead his buttocks, teasingly massaging his hole. “Let me tell you how it is going to be for the rest of the semester, shall I?” he asked.
Xander nodded mutely, his attention fixed on the thumb rubbing over his entrance, thankful the question was rhetorical, as he didn’t know if he’d be able to form the words required to answer it.
“You will arrive here in this classroom at precisely 3:05pm each afternoon until you have completed all your missed assignments. If you please me,” Mr. Bradford said, pausing to let Xander’s mind run wild with various images of him pleasing, pleasuring, the other man, “if your work satisfies me, you shall receive a passing grade on them.”
“You will also attend class every day and complete the current assignments. If you act up in class, or miss an assignment, I will not hesitate to throw you down over this desk and spank you in front of your classmates. If I believe your behavior to be especially egregious, I will pull your jeans down around your ankles and spank your bare bum, and then leave you bent over the desk for the remainder of the class period so the other students will learn that there are consequences for their actions. If you are a bad boy, you will be punished. Do you understand that, Mr. Harris?”
“Y-yes,” Xander moaned, trying to keep himself from pushing back eagerly into the teacher’s touch. A touch that had grown stronger, harder during the other man’s lecture. He couldn’t believe how turned-on he’d gotten at the thought of the substitute teacher spanking him in front of the entire class, and then leaving him bent over the desk, his cherry-red ass on display for all to see.
Mr. Bradford let go of him and stood back. “Stand up, Mr. Harris.”
Xander pushed himself off the desk and straightened, rubbing his arm, and then reached for his jeans. The teacher slapped his hand with the ruler Xander hadn’t even seen him pick up. He snatched his hand back with a yelp.
“Did I tell you to pull up your jeans?”
“No, Professor.”
“Stand up straight and let me see you.”
Xander straightened and stood at attention, his arms at his sides. He was both embarrassed and aroused by the knowledge that he was baring his most private bits to the other man. The rough material of his jeans at his knees teased him. He didn’t have to look down to know that his hard, throbbing dick stood fully erect.
He snuck a glance anyway. Pre-come had oozed from the slit and glistened at the tip. A string of the viscous fluid ran from the head of his prick to the black leather jacket which now sported a small shiny wet spot.
“What is this?” Mr. Bradford asked sharply, gently tapping Xander’s cock with the ruler. Xander groaned as his dick jerked and another drop of pre-come oozed from the slit. “You got hard and maintained your erection during your punishment?” he asked in disbelief. He leaned in close, pressing the edge of the ruler against Xander’s engorged prick. “You’re not supposed to enjoy your punishment, Mr. Harris.”
Xander couldn’t contain the groan that welled up in his throat at the sharp pain that unexpectedly made him even more aroused, though he didn’t think he could get any harder.
“Such a bad, naughty boy, Mr. Harris,” Mr. Bradford whispered. “Enjoying your punishment. I can see I’ll have my hands full with you, won’t I?”
Xander moaned at the memory of the other man’s fingers wrapped around his cock.
“Bad boys need to be punished, hard and often, don’t they?” he continued in a husky voice.
“Y-yes,” Xander nearly whimpered.
“Yes, well, what shall I do with you then?” Bradford mused. “Another spanking is out of the question, since you obviously enjoyed that too much. Besides, you’ll have enough trouble sitting tonight. I want you uncomfortable, not incapacitated.” He was silent for a moment as he thought, and the silence nearly unnerved Xander. He jumped when the teacher tapped the ruler against his balls. “Why don’t we revisit your agreement with Mr. Peterson?” he finally suggested.
Xander’s eyes widened. The professor was going to suck him off?
“No, Mr. Harris,” Bradford said, answering the unasked question. “Get on your knees.”
Ahhh. Xander clumsily sank to his knees.
“Ever done this before?”
Xander shook his head. The teacher placed the ruler beneath his chin and raised his face.
“Another lesson you need to learn, Mr. Harris.” He reached out and ran his thumb over Xander’s lips as Xander had done to him earlier. “I have a feeling you will ace this lesson,” Bradford said as he pushed his thumb between Xander’s lips. “Take me out,” he commanded.
Xander stared at him, lost in blue eyes until the ruler dropping sharply onto the desk snapped him out of his daze. His eyes dropped to the teacher’s groin. He nearly moaned aloud when he saw the outline of the other man’s hardened flesh beneath the soft material of his slacks.
With shaking hands, Xander reached for the teacher’s belt. Trembling fingers unbuckled the belt, and then slipped the button. The other man’s fingers carded through his hair as he lowered the zip. He pushed the slacks open to reveal white cotton briefs stretched taut over an impressive package.
“Good boy,” Mr. Bradford praised Xander as he pulled the elastic waistband out and pushed the briefs down. Xander closed his eyes reflexively when the teacher’s cock sprang out and slapped against his cheek.
“Kiss it,” Mr. Bradford instructed.
Xander needed only to turn his face for the other man’s cock to be at his mouth. He struggled against the desire to do just that. To feel the teacher’s dick against his lips, to taste him on his tongue. Fingers tightened in his hair, silently encouraging him to continue.
Xander slowly turned his head until his lips brushed the other man’s shaft. He placed a kiss on it. Bradford moaned his approval. Xander kissed it again, noting the texture. The teacher slowly pulled his hips back and Xander’s kisses moved up the shaft to the moist head. He licked his lips, tasting the other man’s salty release on them. Mr. Bradford smiled down at him.
“Lick it.”
Xander licked the tip, the thick fluid coating his tongue. The salty taste and musky scent of the other man pervaded his senses. When the tip had been cleaned of the teacher’s essence, Xander closed his mouth over the head and sucked lightly.
Mr. Bradford’s hand slipped down to gently cup his cheek. “Good boy. I knew you’d be a quick learner if you put your mind to it. Such a sweet, sweet mouth.” He pressed the pad of his thumb against the corner of Xander’s mouth where his lips stretched around the other man’s cock. “Suck me harder,” he urged. “Take me deeper. Use your hand.”
Xander’s mouth slipped down past the teacher’s head as he brought his hand up to wrap trembling fingers around the shaft. A thrill of desire shot through him as he sucked and stroked, his hand moving up and down the shaft in a familiar motion while his tongue swirled around the head.
He’d never touched a dick other than his own before, much less taken one into his mouth. It felt like his, but different—steel encased in velvet. Curious, he’d tasted his own release once before, but it hadn’t been nearly as good as the flavor on his tongue now.
“That’s it,” Mr. Bradford encouraged, “slick me up real good. Get me nice and wet.”
Xander moaned, sucking harder and slathering as much of the teacher’s cock as he could with saliva. Mr. Bradford knocked Xander’s hand off his shaft and tilted his head back.
“Relax your throat muscles,” he whispered urgently, and then slid his entire length into Xander’s mouth and down his throat until Xander’s face was pressed into the coarse hairs at his groin.
Xander panicked, struggling to breathe until he realized he could breathe through his nose. Mr. Bradford pumped his hips, slowly fucking Xander’s mouth. Xander couldn’t take his eyes off the teacher’s face as it contorted in pleasure. He shuddered when he realized that he was causing that look of pleasure on the other man’s face.
Mr. Bradford began to thrust faster. One hand moved down Xander’s throat, feeling the bulge as his dick slid down and filled it. He’d nearly forgotten his own cock as new sensations flooded his body, but now the heat in his groin made itself known. He groaned around the cock sliding in and out of his mouth, eliciting a reciprocal groan from the teacher.
Mr. Bradford pulled all the way out and rested the tip of his cock against Xander’s lips. “What’s my name?” he asked as he moved his hips so that his cock head slid across Xander’s lips.
“Professor,” Xander said, his tongue coming out to lick the head. The teacher pulled back.
“What’s my name?” he asked again, slapping his prick gently against Xander’s cheek.
“Prof—, Bradford. Professor Bradford,” Xander breathed.
The other man smiled down at him as he slightly thrust his hips, just enough to send his dick sliding over Xander’s lips as he reached his tongue out and tried to taste it. “I’m going to fuck you hard and fast now, sweet, naughty boy. I’m going to...” He swallowed hard. “...come in your mouth, and you are going to swallow every drop.”
Xander’s entire body tingled as if he’d received an electric shock. He shivered with anticipation as Mr. Bradford told him what he was going to do to him, and nearly came without touching himself at the thought of being used so. “Yes, Professor Bradford,” he whispered hoarsely when the other man finished speaking.
Mr. Bradford groaned and shoved his cock back into Xander’s mouth. “Take it all,” he hissed. “Naughty boy. Need to learn your lesson.”
Despite everything that had already happened to him, Xander was utterly surprised when his balls tightened. He knew he was going to blow. He moaned around the cock in his mouth and the teacher panted as if he was trying to hold back. In a moment of perversity, Xander reached up and cupped the other man’s balls through his slacks. Mr. Bradford growled. Xander squeezed gently. The teacher came, his cock pulsing and spurting load after load of spunk into Xander’s mouth.
Xander swallowed as quickly as he could, but there was more than he could hold, and some dribbled out his mouth and down his chin. The taste of the other man on his tongue was too much. He grunted and stiffened when his own cock twitched and shot.
When both men were empty, and Xander had cleaned him off, Mr. Bradford pulled him to his feet and roughly took his mouth. “You’re going to be a good boy from now on, aren’t you, Mr. Harris?” he purred against Xander’s lips.
“I don’t know, Professor Bradford,” Xander replied in an over-the-top little boy’s voice. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t want to be bad, but... I might not be able to help it.”
“Don’t worry,” Mr. Bradford assured him. “I’ll be here to help you be good. But you’re right, it will probably take a while for the lessons you’ve learned tonight to sink in.”
“Speaking of sinking in,” Xander said with a grin, “maybe next time you bend me over your desk you’ll be able to think of a better use for my ass.”
“Think you need a good seein’ to, do you, Mr. Harris?”
“Oh, yes, Professor Bradford,” Xander responded breathlessly.
“Right then. I’ll give you a good pounding right after I’ve reddened your pretty bum with the ruler,” Mr. Bradford promised.
“Sounds like a plan, Professor Bradford,” Xander agreed. “Hey, next time, I want to be the teacher,” he added, breaking character.
“Why?” Spike asked. “You got a thing for tweed?” He picked at the jacket they’d ‘borrowed’ from Giles.
“No,” Xander said, “but I do look good in glasses.”
Spike took the glasses off and slipped them onto Xander’s face. “Yeah, you do,” he agreed with a lascivious smirk. “Maybe you could wear them to bed.” Xander leaned in for a hot, wet kiss, and then pulled back breathlessly so they could both fix their pants. “Can’t believe I let you talk me in to breaking into the school,” Spike muttered as he tucked himself in.
“Was worth it, wasn’t it?” Xander asked as he collected the helmet and sunglasses, tossing the book to Spike.
“Hey, careful with that!” He looked the book over to make sure the cover hadn’t been bent.
“At least you’re not the one who received fifty smacks with the ruler!”
“No, but I had to dye m’ hair,” Spike argued, reaching up to touch the light brown locks gingerly. “And wear the Watcher’s jacket. Let’s get out of here before the security guard comes by again,” he urged as he headed for the door. “Besides, I wanna wash this...stuff...outta my hair soon as we get home.”
“You do realize it’s gonna take a couple of washings to get that all out, right?” Xander asked, following him.
“No,” Spike ground out. “You didn’t happen to mention that when you were begging me to play school, and shopping for hair coloring. A couple washings then? Like what? Two?” He pulled the door open and looked both ways before stepping out into the empty hallway.
“Or so,” Xander said casually as he eased after Spike and pulled the classroom door shut behind them.
“Or so?”
“A week. Maybe.”
“A week?” Spike’s voice had gone shrill.
“A month. Max.”
“What? A bloody month?” Spike yelled.
The End