bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,
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Head Of The Class

Head Of The Class

10/35
Author: BmblBee
Paring: S/X HAU
Rating: Adult
Warning: Contains very adult content. Strong language
and sexual activity of the m/m nature.
Disclaimer: I tried to buy them but they apparently
aren't for sale so I own none of the products or characters
named in this story and make no money from it.

Summary: Kindergarten teacher Xander meets porn star Spike.

Additional notes: Along with the wonderful banner, a big thanks
to the brilliant Petxnd who encouraged me and offered plot
suggestions.







Will reached around the plastic curtain and grabbed the towel
he had hanging there. That had been one of the strongest
orgasms he had had in a long time and he was mellow as hell.

After Xander had left him at the cafe, it had taken nearly ten
minutes before his darn hard on had gone down enough to allow
him to walk comfortably. It had been another three minutes and
two blocks before he remembered that he had driven and he went
back for his car.

By the time he got home, the memories of the afternoon spent
with the handsome teacher had caused his cock to spring back
up and he knew he would have to take matters in hand if he had
any hope of passing the time till the evening's nondate.

He tugged on a pair of sweat pants over his clean damp body
and padded, barefoot, happily toward the living room. Just as
he was about to plop down on the couch he heard the familiar
pounding on his front door.

"Hey! Uncle Will, you in there? It's me. It's Scotty. You in
there?"

Will quickly opened the door to the whirlwind that rushed by him.
"Hey, little man. What...."
"How come you're wet? Did you take anoder bath? Mom makes
me take baths when I get all dirty or sticky. Did you get sticky?"

"Ah, I....."
"You were gone a long time. How come you were gone so long?
Did you see Mr. Harris? Did he tell you all about me? If he told
you I threw a rock at Betsy in recess, he was just kiddin' with you.
Did he show you my pikchurs? Did he tell you I was gonna be an
injun in the school play next week? Did....."

"Whoa! Slow down little man."
Will laughed at the boy's exuberance and led him to the sofa.

"Now, what is this about a rock?"

Scotty rolled and laughed, trying to cover the guilty look on his face.
"I was jokin' There wasn't no rock, sides, Betsy is a tattle tale."

Will put a hand on his hip and tried to look stern.
"You have to be nice to girl's, Scotty."
"I don't like 'em cause they are always chasing me and writing
my name on the blackboard. Do you like girl's? Do you
like girls better than Mr. Harris? I like Mr. Harris better."

Will ruffled the boy's hair affectionately and Scotty scooted closer.
"You have to be nice to the other kids in school, but Mr. Harris
only said very good things about you."
"That's cause I AM a very good boy. Isn't he great?"

Will's world weary eyes took on a dreamy look.
"Yes, he is. I like him a lot. Hey, did you eat lunch?"

Scotty smiled.
"Yeah, Mommy is feeling better and she made me a baloney samich.
That's why I can't stay cause she said I gotta go help clean up my
room. If she ain't sick next week she said she will go to see me be
a injun for our Thanksgiving play. Maybe you can come too."

Will took the boy's hand and walked him to the door.
"I just might do that."
He then leaned down and kissed the top of his boy's white hair.
"You go help your mom and I'll see you later."

With a bounce and a wave, the boy was gone and Will snatched up
the phone. He figured he had about five minutes before Scotty made
it back downstairs.

"Hello?"
"Willow, it's me. Scotty's on his way back."
"Look, I'm not in the mood for a lecture. I'm up, I'm cleaning and I
didn't...."

"Wait, Willow, I don't want to argue. I just talked to Scotty's teacher
and he said Scotty would benefit from a more scheduled life. He's
doing really well, but he needs a little more structure. Regular meals,
set bedtime, you know, more......"

"How dare you call here and tell me how to be a mother. Are you
raising him? Do you know how hard it is to run after a hyperactive
five year old when you are sick all the time?"

Will could tell by the shrill, whining tone in her voice that he was
losing her, so he quickly tried again, hoping to speak to her
calmly and coaxing her to see reason.

"Actually, that's why I called. Have you given it anymore thought?
You know, what we talked about? I start a new movie next week
and I can afford to cover the cost. Rehab is scary, but just think, it
could be a whole new start for you. A chance for you and Scotty
to have a good life."

The line was quiet and for a moment Will was beginning to think she
had hung up.
"I don't know, Will. I'll think about it. Look, Scotty just got back,
I'll talk to you later."

Will held the dead receiver for a couple minutes before placing it
back on the table. As far down as she was, he was afraid she hadn't
yet hit bottom and he wondered if his financial support was just a
crutch, making things worse. Still, he knew there was no other way.
The thought of Scotty being homeless or in the system was more
than he could stand. It was something he would never let happen.

Walking around his apartment, Will looked at the dozens of pictures
that covered the walls. Black and whites, some colored, shadows and
lights, portraits and still landscapes. Left overs from the time of his life
that he dreamed of a being a photographer. Traveling the world and
documenting life.

Three years of near starvation was a slap of reality and he soon
found that his fortune and future came from dropping his pants and
fucking on film. Not that he was that great at fucking, after all, he
thought, the mechanics of it are fairly simple.

No, what set him apart from the others was the way he went about it.
Will had a good understanding of camera angles and lighting
techniques. He also knew that even without a script, an actor
can only say, "Yeah, Baby" so may times without sounding like
a fool.

As Spike, he always approached each job as a professional challenge.
He kept his body in good physical condition and avoided the addictions
that plagued so many of the people he worked with.

As part of his contract, he insisted on medical records for each actor
he was set to arse fuck and he never sucked a dick that had been
inside him without a break in filming for an antibacterial wash off.

Other than that, he was willing to do whatever the producers hired
him to do. He would eat a pussy, although he preferred sucking cock
and he would fuck in any position or condition that the script called for.
As a matter of principal, he declined most BDSM that involved blood
letting. Whips and chains, however, were fine.

In the first year, he had accepted some of the high paying, after hours,
underground jobs that involved wealthy, famous celebrities and politicians
who wanted to be fucked by a porn star but Will quickly recognized
it for what it was.
Prostitution.
And there, he drew the line.

Will Stanford was no prostitute.
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