La Maison 1: Colors (Complete: manxman)

38 - Solutions

* * * * *

Xander goes home with Tim. It was a mistake to take Tim to the club so soon, but he'd been so excited about going; couldn't wait to meet the other Doms and subs that Xander often talked about, and had begged, so politely, to be allowed to be part of it.

Xander should have realized it would be too much for him. Even though the idea of ADHD, if that's even what's going on, hasn't previously occurred to him, Xander knows that Tim struggles with self-control. He should have known that the incredibly controlled expectations of the club would make him spiral. That all the rules would be too much for him.

And the reaction to punishment? That's even more unexpected. It's true he hasn't punished Tim yet, had told him that they needed to find out whether the lifestyle was what he wanted before they took that step, but the conflict between his desire for punishment and his obvious fear of it is making Xander nervous. If anything, he's used to subs loving the punishment side, but pushing away because of the control he needs. He isn't sure how he will deal with the opposite problem.

When they get back to Xander's Tim stumbles into the house, avoiding Xander's guiding hand. Xander doesn't like that, but isn't sure how to deal with it – is wishing he'd asked Gray, or even Ellis, who seems to have a calming influence on the boy, to come back and help settle him.

Tim hasn't spoken since the club, and now he stands in the darkened kitchen, his head down.

"Tim?" Xander whispers. "Speak to me, please."

"I don't know what you want me to say, Sir. I messed up, bad, and you have to punish me."

Xander has a sudden idea.

"Drop to your knees, boy!" he commands.

Tim drops immediately, with a sharp crack that makes Xander wince. They'll definitely have to do some positioning training, and soon. Tim's head is down and Xander can see his tattooed shoulders shuddering with emotion.

"I am your Master, Tim, and I am the one that determines how and why you are punished. It is not your decision, and you will not question me."

"Sir?" Tim's voice is tremulous, but Xander notes his shaking seems to be calming.

"I decide what is best for you. My choice. Not yours. You will crawl to the staircase now, and climb the stairs on your hands and knees, to my bedroom. You will strip and kneel on my bed, your face on its side on the bed, your ass high in the air. And you will wait for me for as long as I choose. This is your punishment."

"Sir?"

"If you question me again I will make you wait longer. You're a needy boy with a needy hole, and I know you don't like to wait for anything. You will not enjoy it." He repeats; "This is your punishment."

He waits, hoping that this will be sufficient for the time being. He usually canes and whips as discipline, and he knows this issue has to be truly resolved before he can even consider using any of his usual methods. But he can see that Tim needs to feel like he has been chastised or his mind will unravel further.

To Xander's relief, Tim obeys, crawling out of the room, his sexy bubble butt wriggling from side to side as he moves. Xander would really like to just grab him there, ripping his tiny shorts down and taking him hard on the floor, but he has to do this right. Not just because he thinks Tim meets many of the needs he has, the needs that haven't been entirely getting met by the horny, pretty twinks he's been inundated with lately, but because he actually likes the boy.

When Tim had come into his office for an academic review meeting, Xander had been struck by his looks, of course, who wouldn't be? He has the perfect combination of utterly beatific and completely slutty. Wide, innocent eyes that easily narrow to arousal, full pink lips parted sweetly, with a wicked pointed tongue that sneaks out to lap the honey flesh. That hair that makes him look like a piece of art, a manga creation. His skin is soft and pale, smooth, slender and not muscular, but covered in places by intricate, violent tattoos – one swirling sleeve, a snarling tiger on one side of his abdomen, a swooping raven on one shoulder, almost as if half of him is wild devil and half is sweet, pure angel.