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

Head Of The Class
19/35
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.






Xander sat back on his heels, a puddle of orgasmic bliss on the floor
between his knees and a limp, still dripping, hooded cock swinging in
front of his face.

This was the awkward time. The period where no conversation sounded
logical or intelligent. Post coital quips was a class never taught at the
university.
Xander badly wished it had been.

Before he could die of embarrassment, Will dropped to his knees in front
of him and took Xander's face in his hands.
"You, love, are a real keeper."

He then leaned in and kissed the surprised teacher on the lips, gently,
sweetly and with a true affection. Xander opened his mouth and let
Will share the taste that lingered there. It broke the ice and both
men relaxed.

"I don't know about you, Love, but I'm whipped. What would
you say to a short nap, bit of a cuddle and possibly another round?"
Will tipped his head in the direction of his bedroom.

"Well, I would say that right now I am in no condition to drive so I
suppose I will just have to go along with your lecherous plans."
Xander leapt to his feet and waited. Will stood too, but a quick
frown flashed across his brow.

"Um, my room is a mess. Give me a few minutes then come on in.
Yeah?'

Xander laughed that Will should be worried about something so
silly. He had just swallowed the man's sperm and he still felt the
need to tidy up.

"Yeah, sure. Hey, you mind if I go in the kitchen and get some water?
I seem to be a little dehydrated."

Will grabbed him for another kiss.
"Drink plenty, Pet. You're going to need it."
Then disappeared toward his bedroom.

Xander chuckled. He picked up the dirty clothes off the floor and kicked
their shoes to the side. Together. He shook out Will's pants and aimed
to toss them over the back of the sofa. At the last minute, he felt the vibration
and heard the muffled ring.

Xander held the pants up in the direction of the closed bedroom door.
"Hey, Will, phone's ringing."
No response.

Xander considered, for a minute, ignoring it, but figured, what the hell.
He had answered it before, so Will shouldn't care. Especially after their
new.....understanding.

"Hello?"
"Hello? Who the fuck is this?"
"Xander. Who the fuck are you? Hey, wait a minute. Is this Dangle?"
"ANGEL! Why the fuck are you answering his phone again? Put
Spike on the fucking phone!"
"Again with the 'Spike'."
"Why, you fucking little prick! Did you even tell him I called before?"
"Nope. Guess it slipped my mind, but then we have been a little busy,
if you get my drift."
"WHAT? Where the fuck are you? If I find you I'm gonna kick your
fucking ass! PUT SPIKE ON THE GODDAMN PHONE!"
"Sorry, no can do. Well, gotta go, but please, feel free to call again
anytime. It's great talking to you. Maybe we can do lunch. Bye now."

Xander happily snapped the phone off and tossed it, along with the
discarded clothes, in a chair. He knew he should feel guilty, but right
now, he just couldn't. Whistling, he headed for the kitchen to get that
much needed glass of water.

Will hustled around the room. He scooped up magazines, stacks of
DVDs of his movies and even snatched his two prized Gabby awards
from the top of his dresser, hiding them in the closet.

He snorted at the irony of hiding an award given him for starring in
a gay porn video in the closet. Spinning in a complete 360, Will
decided that everything looked innocent and suitable for the vigorous
butt fucking of a kindergarten teacher and he jerked the door open.

"Oh, Xaaaan. Olley olley outs in freeeee"

He then, just in time, jumped to the side as the naked, whirlwind flew
past him and landed in the center of the plush, king sized bed.

"About time. What the hell took you so long? What were you doing
in here and besides, how the hell does a British guy know olley olley out?"

Will chuckled. Last month, during the filming of Playground Boys, he had
learned a lot about American games.

"Just cleaning things up. Checking for an ample supply of lube and
condoms, and I am pleased to announce I have plenty of both."

Xander wriggled and squirmed till he had worked himself under the
smooth, cool sheets, then contented himself to watch as Will
finished undressing and joined him.

"Shit, no worry there. I haven't been with anyone like that in the last
two years. Not since a certain jerk, that I thought I was in love with,
walked out on me."

Will scooted himself flat against his bed mate and slowly kissed
Xander's forehead, nose and, gently, his lips.

"Poor baby. Let Will kiss and make it all better."

Xander curiously picked up on the fact that Will hadn't also confessed
a limited, careful sex life, but dismissed it, choosing instead to relax and
enjoy the contrasting soft bed and rock hard cock that were both
currently caressing his body.

"Fucking little prick. Who the fuck is he?"
Angel stared at the dead phone in his hand. He had tried twice to call
back, but the answer had gone straight to voice mail. That could only
mean one thing. The phone had been shut off. The fucking little prick had
actually hung up on him! AGAIN!!

Angel began pacing the room. Past the lamp stand, between the couch and
coffee table, around the dirty boxers, stopping at the book shelves, turn,
repeat. He knew Spike fucked other men. Hell, he usually stood just
off set and watched, but this was different. This was real life as opposed
to reel life.
And there was something very disheartening about the fact that this
unknown prick was answering Spike's phone. Somehow that seemed
far too intimate.

Angel grabbed two fistfuls of crackly hair, his thoughts racing.
'You can suck a man's dick, palm his prick, squeeze his stick, massage
his monkey, lick his balls, and finger his ass, but answer his phone?
No fucking way! That just screams "I'm wearing an apron and scrambling
his morning eggs"'.

Suddenly his feet stopped moving. Part way between the boxers and
the books, an idea came to him. In order to stop a trespasser, you first
had to catch him on your property.

This could be nothing more than an enamored fan.
A weekend of carnal, impersonal, coupling. Or it could be more, but
either way Angel wouldn't know by wearing a path in his rug.

Decision made, Angel grabbed for his car keys and Hollywood film
star sunglasses and headed for the door when suddenly, catching him
happily off guard, his phone jangled loudly.

"Spike? 'bout time you called back. Who the fuck......?"
"Whoa. Slow down there Pardoner. It's me. Hard Ryder."
"Lindsey? What do you want? And make it quick. I'm on my way out."

Lindsey chuckled low and slow.
"Hard Ryder is never quick. He always moseys in, picks up the gate to an
easy trot, then spurs his pony in the ass and brings it home in a hard gallop.
You want to climb in and bite the bit, Angel?"

Angel just rolled his eyes. He had no clue why Lindsey insisted on
fucking with him but he always suspected that people who referred to
themselves in the third person were slightly whacked, so possibly that
was the reason.

"Yeah, sure, Linds. I'll just stomp my hooves and canter right over.
Look, I really gotta go. We'll talk later, o.k? Bye."
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