La Maison 4: Blue (Complete: BDSM manxboy)

Chapter 17: The Morning After

A/N: felt like some gentle fluff, and some revelations beginning

Tim crept out of bed, awoken by the warm morning light because they hadn't pulled the blinds the night before. There was no need, because the windows looked over a park and were far too high for anyone to see in, but it still gave him a frisson when he thought of the things his Dom had done to him right next to those windows the night before.

Xander was still asleep and Tim took a moment to admire the lines of his beautiful body, and the way his defined, masculine, face became a little softer, a little prettier, in sleep. He had to leave then, because he could feel everything thrumming through his blood. He'd been keeping himself strapped down so tight, for so long. Trying to not be a bother. Trying to not be annoying, and get in the way, and let his mouth run. It was painful, almost physically so, sometimes – the way his brain vibrated with power. Except it wasn't power. It was a weakness. His brain was broken, he knew that.

Before those thoughts could overwhelm him, he skipped into the kitchen, determined to maintain the happy buzz he'd woken up with. Xander had proved something to him the night before, something he had never let himself hope would get proven to him. That he cared, and that Tim's ridiculous lack of control wasn't going to be something that sent him skittering away. Xander wasn't disgusted by what was wrong with Tim.

Tim filled the kettle and put in on the stove. He debated making breakfast, but he didn't want to force Xander to wake before he was ready. It gave him an idea, though, and he giggled to himself as he retrieved Xander's camera from its home in the cabinet by the tv.

Xander was still asleep, one arm thrown over his head and the thin sheets having naturally ended up arranged artfully over his lower body, twisted in his long legs, but covering everything 'R' rated. His entire, incredible, torso was visible, and the light was making his summer tan positively glow.

It took Tim a few attempts, finally realizing that he needed to re-hang the light tapestry over the dark wood of the cross as it was affecting the play of the light. Once he did that, though, he got off several shots, any one of which he knew would be perfect for Xander to post, if he wanted to. He knew better than to post them to his own feed, regardless of how tempted he suddenly felt to lay more claim to the man. Ever since that first picture where he'd tagged Tim, there had been several more, but Tim hadn't yet confirmed the speculation-filled comments by adding anything more himself. He wasn't sure how Xander might react, and it felt awkward to suggest a claim himself.

"You having fun there, Annie Leibovitz?"

Xander's voice was rough with sleep but fond, and Tim's heart jumped.

"You looked nice, Sir."

"What's that noise?"

"Shit! Sorry."

Tim ran from the room, all the calmness he'd managed to maintain vanishing. He'd messed up, and by the time he got back to the screaming kettle, he knew it was ruined, burnt out.

Xander followed, shuffling sleepily, rubbing his nose in a way that would have been completely endearing if Tim could have focused on it instead of the undulating panic that he'd messed up really bad.

"What happened?"

"I'm sorry, Sir, I'm so sorry. I forgot about it. It boiled dry. It's ruined. I'm so sorry."

Tim was barely keeping the tears at bay, knowing, now, that he had to accept his punishment. He couldn't be a little kid and just cry his way out of it. That would be pathetic.