Title: Taste in Toffee

Author: Kristina [[email protected]]

Status: Finished, 1/1

Pairing; Elijah/Ian M.

Rating: R

Feedback: Yes.

Archive: BTF, Love for Sir Ian.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The author is not affiliated with any of the mentioned individuals. Any similarities to actual events are purely coincidental. No money has been made on this.

Summary: Elijah never went to a school. Well, he does now.

Warnings: Mild BDSM and playing with stereotypes that might be squickening to some.

AN: This fic is the result of me picking up the gauntlet so bravely tossed by Elanor. The sole purpose of the dare was to give our poor brains a break from our usual pretentious, angsty writing. That means: if you are looking for a Deep Meaningful Story this is not the fic for you. This is just silly and smutty. Enjoy!

It came about quite naturally, actually.

A star-studded night spent on Elijah’s roof in New Zealand. Half a bottle of Stolichnaya, two packs of cigarettes, hot milk with honey, and... uhm… orange juice for Ian, had left them tousled and post coital, wrapped around each other in Elijah’s sleeping bag. Warm, loose and flushed, as he usually was after a bout of drinking and a good fuck, Elijah had played with Ian’s hair and drowsily given him the third degree about his life, his conquests and what it was really like growing up in Victorian England. Ian had sighed and contemplated correcting his lover for a second, but decided against it. He really did love this one, and if answering a million trivia questions was the price he had to pay for having the pleasure of pressing into soft flesh, then it was a price he was more than willing to pay.

"Spanking? No, not really. Then again, I suppose my case isn’t a typical one, considering that my parents were pacifists who never laid a hand on me. But yes, other children did get spanked."

Elijah had grown wide-eyed at that, and continued to pressure Ian into sharing more details. After having learned that physical punishment had indeed been carried out in schools, [and] after having listened to Ian expressing his disapproval of the practice, in his usual, angry, political way, Elijah had laid down on his back, chewing on a fingernail while staring up at the stars.

"Do you think that you would have liked it?"

"Pardon?"

"Getting spanked. Do you think you would have liked it?"

Ian turned towards him and frowned. Elijah could basically see the steam starting to rise.

"Of course not! Do you think a child would benefit from learning that… that violence is a better tool than communication, from getting a completely incorrect idea of the concept of discipline, from… "

Elijah had to sit up and grab Ian’s hands to force them to still. "Nonono, not kids. Not as a kid, I mean. Of course you wouldn’t have, I wasn’t either. Spanked, I mean, I wasn’t. Mom didn’t believe in it. What I meant was, if it wasn’t for punishment, like, it wasn’t abuse or something, if it was to be nice, if he did it to be nice to you, would you have liked it?"

Elijah lay back on the sleeping bag, staring off in to the distance. He looked absent, Ian thought, and he spoke quietly as if he was slowly drifting off. "Like, if the teacher was a nice teacher, and you liked him back. And you knew he cared about you and he only wanted what was best for you. And he took you into his office and smiled at you and gave you toffee and … and… bent you over his lap and cuddled you afterwards, and held you when you cried, and told you that he loved you, do you think that you would have uhm… liked it then?"

Elijah looked shy and almost embarrassed. Not quite blushing, but speaking so softly and looking so forlorn that Ian was taken aback. Elijah was a usually hot blooded, well-rounded, outspoken young man who never backed down from a challenge and who seemed to never be shy about anything.

"I think," Ian said solemnly, tipping Elijah’s chin towards him so that he could look into those pretty eyes, "that I would have ran straight home and told my mother, and I think that she would have had a serious conversation with the school board shortly after." He smiled warmly. "I also think that Russian Vodka isn’t really something that agrees with your anatomy. Don’t you think you should try to sleep and see if you’re a little more coherent in the morning? Hmm?"

He coaxed Elijah down into the sleeping bag and crawled down next to him. It was a lovely way to fall asleep, protected by a sky of stars and a warm, cuddly boyfriend.

****

The second time Elijah had brought it up was on the set the day after. Picking at his food for thirty minutes hadn’t eased his tension, and being sucked into group cuddling sessions with the hobbits hadn’t either. So, he took the first chance he got to be somewhat private with his boyfriend. That is, he followed him into the public urinal. "I missed you." He started, wrapping his arms around Ian who was zipping up after having emptied his bladder and shaken hands with his penis. "Missed you too, love, but I don’t think we’ve got time for a quickie." Elijah laughed and felt immediately lighter. "That’s not what I had in mind, actually." He started, smiling genuinely as Ian turned around. "Just missed you."

"Is there something you want to talk about or shall we just smooch for the next minute and a half?"

Elijah stuck his tongue out, not caring for the fact that it made him look like a five year old. "Let’s play a game. I tell you something about myself and then you tell me something about yourself. You answer the same question. All right?" Ian raised an eyebrow. "There’s a question?"

"Well no. I decide what we shall reveal about ourselves since it’s my game."

Ian rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. "You hobbits and your games. I dread the day I understand them, because then I will have gone insane." Elijah smiled and stuck an arm under Ian’s as they walked out of the urinal.

"Just bear with me. My middle name is Jordan."

"Yes."

"Now you tell me yours." Elijah poked Ian’s rib a little with his elbow. "Go on."

"You already know my middle name, Elijah."

"Yes, but go on. It’s for the game."

"It’s Murray."

"No." Elijah giggled a little as they sat down on a bench outside. "You have to tell it like I told it."

Ian let out an even bigger sigh. "The things I do to make you happy... My middle name is Murray."

Elijah smiled encouragingly and petted Ian’s knee.

"My favourite film, besides these ones, is The Professional."

"My favourite film, besides these ones, is Brief Encounter."

"Good, very good. Isn’t this fun?" Elijah made sure not to think too much of Ian’s grunt of disagreement.

"If I hadn’t become an actor I would have become a music producer."

"Remind me to send flowers to your agent." Ian gave Elijah a cheeky smile and merely chuckled at the smack in his side. "If I hadn’t become an actor, oh, I don’t know, I would have become an engineer like my father."

"Really?" Elijah raises an eyebrow in surprise. "Are you sure?"

"No, I’m not sure, Elijah. But it’s a possibility. I would have made a miserable engineer, I can tell you that much. Maybe I would have been a writer, or a circus director. Or maybe I would have stayed in the bakery all my life. Who knows. That’s the beauty of finality, you see, we don’t have to dwell on what might have been."

"That’s true. All too true. But it’s interesting to think about anyway. I must admit I’m a bit surprised."

"By what?"

"I…" Elijah coughed loudly and looked into Ian’s eyes. "I was sure you would have been an English teacher."

"Really?" Ian picked up his pack of cigarettes and offered one to Elijah who for novelty’s sake declined. "What made you think that?"

"Wasn’t your sister a school teacher?"

Ian put his hand over his lighter to shield the flame from the wind. "Yes, she was. And a great one, too. You think I would’ve been a copycat?" He finally succeeded in lighting his cigarette and turned back to Elijah who shrugged.

"I just figured you for the type. Well read. Intelligent. Madly in love with the English language. I think you would have seen it as your creative outlet, you know, shaping the minds and hearts of the future, that sort of thing. I can see you forcing them to read the classics, helping them putting up productions of Shakespeare in the gymnasium." Elijah smiled. "And you’re the mother hen, anyway so…"

Ian smiled and finished his cigarette. "I don’t know Elijah. I don’t think I have the patience required. Maybe I would have made an awful teacher. Knowing what I was like I probably would have handed out cigarettes and encouraged them to skip classes! And I would have been such a bitter teacher too, always nagging about their acting and their pronunciation… I think we should thank our lucky stars I made it as an actor." He smiled.

"I still think you would’ve made a great one, Ian. I think you can [still] become a great one."

"What?"

Elijah turned to him and took his hand, his voice dropping to a husky low. "I think you would be great at being [my] teacher, Ian."

***

It didn’t hurt as much as he thought it would.

"Do you know why I have called you in here today, Elijah?"

Elijah was standing in the doorway, dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, studying Ian who was sitting behind his desk. "No."

Ian put down his pen and studied Elijah fondly through his glasses.

"You’re wearing glasses!"

It was out before he could stop himself. He had broken character, not thinking for a second that Ian would swap his contacts for his reading glasses. He thought about apologizing, but realised that would only make matters worse. He bit his lip and looked down at his feet before daring to glance up again. Ian was smiling benignly, lovingly, from across the room. He was apparently going to let it slip. Elijah almost sighed in relief when he heard Ian repeat himself.

"Elijah?"

"I’m sorry, [sir], I don’t know. No." He shook his head softly, then retreated to biting his lip. He really did have no clue how to act. They should have planned this in further detail. Then again, he did act for a living, and he knew Ian pretty well. Besides, tonight was all about Elijah acting out whatever he wanted to. This [was] his fantasy.

"That’s all right, Elijah. I will tell you. You are here because you need my help. And because I want to help you." Ian leaned back and indicated the chair in front of him. "Sit down, please." Elijah did as he was told, taking care not to drag his feet as he walked. Within a few seconds he was sitting across Ian, staring into kind, glittering eyes. Ian slid a wooden box across the desk. "Toffee?"

"Yes, please."

Elijah took one and sucked on it intently.

Ian placed the lid on the flat surface of the desk. "I’ll just leave it open. You may have as many as you like."

Elijah looked up at Ian with an expression of pure urge on his face, his eyes spilling over with carnal desire, somewhat like a hobbit under the Ringspell. Ian found this look disturbingly arousing and he coughed slightly and slipped further into character. "I’ve been watching you." He leaned forward and clasped his hands in front of him. "Your mother asked me to look out for you, and I have." At Elijah’s surprised expression and raised eyebrows he continued. "It can be hard transferring to a college such as this one, far away from home, being younger than the other pupils." He fired off his kindest schoolteacher’s smile and saw, for a moment, understanding in Elijah’s eyes. This is something Elijah could relate to. "So, I’ve kept my eye on you, noticing how your work is going. You’re doing fine, naturally, with your talent I wouldn’t expect any less. As for your social life… I must say I’m a bit disappointed."

Elijah knit his brows in such an adorable fashion that Ian couldn’t help but laugh. "Don’t look so devastated, dear boy. You must admit that you’ve been behaving odd lately. Staying up late. Not getting enough sleep." He paused and made sure to lower his voice as he suggestively continued. "Making mischief."

Elijah had enough sense to direct his gaze downwards, playing the part of the ashamed pupil. The growling across the desk continued. "Yes, you know what I’m talking about." Elijah raised his head and used all his professional skill to keep from looking as sly as he felt. Instead he only nodded. "You’ve been insubordinate lately. Disobeying orders, arriving late to class. Breaking campus rules. It’s obvious that something is wrong with you. Do you have any explanation for your behaviour?"

Elijah shook his head, unable to fabricate a reason. "No, sir." Ian sighed heavily and gave a sad smile.

"You realise that I cannot allow this negative trend to continue, don’t you?"

Elijah nodded and looked down yet again. "Yes, sir."

"You will only end up hurting yourself if you carry on like this. As your headmaster, and your friend, I cannot allow that to happen." He smiled wistfully and reached out to touch Elijah’s cheek.

Despite his youthful looks, Elijah’s eyes betrayed his emotional maturity. "I understand."

Ian’s smile widened and he spoke softly. "Of course you do. You [are] exceptionally gifted. Don’t burn your bridges."

They sat in silence until Ian decided to take pity on the poor soul and spare him from further tension. "Right, I’ll have to correct you, obviously. Would you stand up please?"

Elijah’s nerves were jittery and he swallowed once, twice before obeying.

"How are you going to punish me?"

Ian smiled warmly, fidgeted absentmindedly with his own jacket.

"Oh, just a good spanking. Don’t be afraid."

"I ain’t afraid." Elijah found himself wishing he could be as confident as the character he was portraying.

"’Am not’", Ian corrected, "not ‘ain’t’." He reached forward and squeezed Elijah’s hand most comfortingly. "If you’ll just come over to my side, please."

He found it very easy to obey. There was something in the lilt of Ian’s voice and the way his eyes studied him that made him very authoritative, and very trustworthy.

Ian stepped out of the armchair, pushed it back and drew Elijah towards him. "Take off your trousers."

Elijah reached for his belt buckle and let his jeans fall to the floor in one smooth motion. Legolas would be green with envy, he thought, as he stepped out of them, standing in his striped satin boxers.

"My mother picked them out for me," he slyly replied with the smuggest grin on his face that Ian had ever seen.

Ian coughed loudly, trying to regain his composure. He [was] the senior actor and he was not about to let this young cub steal the show from under his nose. He pulled at the front of the boxers and ignored Elijah’s knowing smile. "Take them off."

It was a bit awkward for Elijah to stand half-naked like that, his upper body fully clothed and his bottom exposed to the chill.

"Right. If you’ll just turn around now." Elijah conjured up the frightened pupil and did as he was told, casting one last glance at Ian over his shoulder to reinforce the illusion of nervousness.

Ian put his hands firmly on the small of Elijah’s back, taking a breath to steady himself. He was quite foolishly allowing himself to be bewitched by Elijah’s frightened looking eyes and submissive posture.

"Lean forward all the way down, please." Elijah obeyed and rested his upper body on the desk while Ian murmured directions. "Cross your arms… Good. Rest your head on them and spread your legs. There, are you comfortable?"

"Hmm."

Somehow the compromising position helped Elijah actually feel like the insolent pupil, and not like the actor portraying him. All in all, he felt quite vulnerable, and quite exposed.

"Just relax and try to lie still." Ian said sternly, hoping he got the archetype right.

Of course, in reality he had never encountered, or even heard about, a mildly sadistic, perverted, middle class schoolteacher, but he knew what resources to draw from, literary or otherwise.

God, what was it about these national stereotypes that seemed to prevail and thrive amongst the Americans? If they ever knew half the truth about England they’d be very disappointed.

"If you don’t struggle it will be over in a little bit," he said reassuringly, giving Elijah’s back a tender caress. The sight before him was incredibly arousing. There was his boyfriend, Elijah Jordan Wood, American film star, bottom exposed and bent over a hardy wooden table. Ian smiled and made sure he wasn’t wearing any rings before bringing his hand down hard on a creamy cheek.

Elijah involuntarily jerked and let out a small gasp, trying to still himself by pressing his head further down on his arms.

He had tried to imagine what it would feel like, which was hard, never having experienced it himself. He had remembered hearing stories about it as a child, from friends with less liberal parents than Debbie Wood. But there was nothing that came close to the effect of Ian’s open handed slap. It didn’t hurt really, there was more of a sting followed by heat spreading from the point of impact.

Satisfied with his shock effect, Ian hit the other cheek more gently, before slapping the first again and then the other. He paused after the fourth blow to look at the red colour spreading over Elijah’s bottom. There was something very aesthetical about it, and something decadent as well. Surprisingly, Elijah was exercising great self-control, lying on the surface calm and quiet. Ian had to admit he was impressed. But then again, he was hardly surprised. Elijah was a never-ending abyss of wisdom and maturity, as well as all the playfulness of a nineteen year old, which, of course, was why Ian loved him.

He decided to strip Elijah of his self-control and so he brought his hand down harder.

"Do you understand why I am doing this?" Elijah swallowed dryly and turned his head to speak.

"To punish me, sir." The hesitation wasn’t an act. He found it difficult to speak after the exhausting effort of keeping his physical reactions to a minimum.

"Not to punish you, child." Ian murmured and stroked Elijah’s shoulders in the manner most appropriate of the archetype. "I’m doing it to correct you, so that you can be protected from future harm. Harm far greater than I could ever cause you. Do you understand that?"

He hadn’t done this in twenty years, and he’d hardly done it then either. He hoped he was as convincing a dominant as Elijah required. It’s funny, he thought. On stage, whether a sound stage or the other kind, he’d never had to question his acting abilities. But right now, in a locked house with only his lover present he was unmistakably nervous. Anxious, one might say, determined to pull off a great performance.

Elijah turned his head and nodded. "Yes, sir." He was almost lost in character by now, too far gone to be amused by the clichéd dialogue. "Good." Ian smiled and rubbed the heated bottom. "You are very bright, Elijah. You’re a most clever student."

He hit again. And again. After a while his palm began to ache and he changed hands. He would never have believed that he would find the act arousing, but he did. It wasn’t the actual spanking that turned him on, but seeing the pleasure it gave his lover.

By now Elijah was trembling and digging his fingers into his wrists. Every now and then he moaned, trying to communicate his arousal.

It was better than he had thought, in fact, it felt heavenly. Which surprised him, since he didn’t consider himself to be a masochist. There was no pain, or rather, there was a substantial amount of it, but it didn’t really [hurt]. Instead it was only exciting, adding a sweet aching edge to the sexual pleasure. And of that, there was plenty.

At that moment he decided to up the ante a little, and so the insolent pupil felt that he had been punished enough. He jerked his hips forward, trying to withdraw from the punishing hands and made sure to whimper a little.

The reaction was swift. It took only a second for Ian to realise that the magic word had not been uttered - it would have been hard to miss since, for some reason, it was ‘Richard.’ He threw his arm around Elijah, yanking him back and holding him tightly. "I said: Don’t struggle. You’ll only make things worse on yourself." He breathed heavily into Elijah’s ear, trying to sound as authoritative as possible. "I know it hurts, but it’s for your own good. Remember that you’ve brought this upon yourself. [I] didn’t force you to cause mischief." He knew Elijah could feel his erection which was pressing against him in a most disturbing way. Disturbing, because it was making Ian lose his focus. "If I let you go, will you be still and let me finish, or will I have to take further action?"

Elijah whimpered and closed his eyes for a second. He liked this new version of his boyfriend, dominant and commanding, but he also knew that Ian was on the verge of coming, and he decided he had had enough teasing.

"Yes, sir."

Ian loosened his grip on Elijah and pushed him forward again. He patted the sweaty shoulders and said, as lovingly as he could: "There, there. I’m almost finished. Feel free to cry if you need to."

In reality, he knew that he couldn’t go on much longer. Sadism, it seemed, was most tiring. And of course there was the small matter of his aching erection. He hit Elijah’s bottom harder than he had before. Then again, and again. He was panting quite heavily towards the end of it, and he only stopped as he heard Elijah sniffle. One last, painful blow across the cheeks, and it was over.

Elijah tried to breathe as he felt his aching skin being touched by light fingers. He had pressed his head into his hands, biting his lip to keep from crying out. He was grateful for resting most of his weight on the desk, but he knew that his legs would have buckled if Ian hadn’t supported him. It had hurt terribly, but in that pleasant way he had grown to love. It had been so wonderful, so disarming to be possessed in that way. Before he knew it, tears had spilled down his cheeks, more from arousal than from physical pain.

Not quite sure what was expected from the school teacher Ian rubbed Elijah down, stroking across his back and his shoulders, down to his bottom and the back of his thighs. As he reached between Elijah’s legs he felt his boyfriend’s lovely cock all hard and trapped against the wooden desk. "Shh… It’s over now. You did well." He realized he would have to make the teacher a bit immoral and so he tugged on Elijah’s hips, pulling him back a bit so that he could reach to reward him properly.

Elijah’s eyes snapped open and he groaned loudly. He felt as though he had been achingly hard for hours although in reality it was a mere fifteen minutes. He pushed into that skilful hand, trying desperately to increase the pressure as he felt his bottom being squeezed. He drew blood from his lip as he came all over Ian’s hand.

He felt himself turned around and pulled into Ian’s lap in the heavy armchair. Too tired, too spent to move a muscle, he simply rested against his boyfriend’s chest without opening his eyes. He could move in a minute, just let him catch his breath first.

"Good boy."

He felt his hair being caressed and a semen coated finger pushing into his mouth. "Here you go, son." Sweetness mingled with the salt and he started laughing as he recognized the toffee on his tongue. He opened his eyes to a schoolteacher looking worried.

"Don’t laugh with your mouth full, you might suffocate." Elijah took the toffee out and threw his head back, laughing so hard he feared he would break a rib.

"You fucking pervert!"

"That’s no way to talk to your teacher!" Elijah winked and put the toffee back into his mouth.

"Shall I help you, sir?" He pointed towards the bulge in Ian’s trousers and started unbuttoning them without waiting for an answer.

Ian moaned and smiled, but somehow the idea of a schoolteacher getting a handjob from a student squicked him. "Just drop the act, Elijah. My last moral boundaries are making themselves known."

He reached down to take his boyfriend’s hand. "Or am I foolish in my hopes that Elijah will be satisfied with merely Ian?"

Elijah shook his head and smiled.

The end.