This chapter was originally published in my "In the Maker's Light" Ficlet Collection, but as I've now written a second piece set in the same AU, I've decided to separate it out so they can have their own document, in case I get inspired to write any further entries.

Anders/Other – Modern Day Teacher AU, Staff Room Shenanigans

Another long evening of classes. The curriculum and the sign on the door said network theory, but each night during one of the three one-hour sessions it was actually the organization of revolutionary cells that he talked about to a very small, very select group of students, not the networking of computers. He was always tense by the time the classes ended, sure that one day it would end abruptly with his arrest, rather than with him quietly bidding good-night to the latest round of students. It couldn't last forever, these secretive classes in the mostly-darkened school. Surely someone would realize, sooner or later, that hidden in amongst the usual boring community college night classes of computer basics, assorted ethnic cookery, the sewing and clay sculpture and weaving, were some highly unusual subjects. And some highly unusual teachers; ones whose backgrounds were not as spotless as they seemed at first glance.

They'd all been cleaned and cleared, of course; the name he used was not the one he'd been born with, that one so long abandoned that he barely even remembered it. Anders, he was usually called these days; the name he'd had for the longest, almost a full decade now, since escaping prison and managing to make it into the safety of the underground. Though he had other aliases, used in less secure situations; Justice was one. The Healer was another. Sparkle-fingers. Blondie. It all depended on what he was doing, on whom he was talking to or working with.

He sighed in relief as he entered the staff room. Dark, except for the little florescent fixture hanging from the bottom of the upper cabinets, casting a small circle of light on the counter near the fridge, neatly lighting the coffee maker. The carafe was half-full of coffee; burnt and bitter and black as roofing tar, but right now, just the potion that he needed to calm his frazzled nerves. He fumbled in the cabinets, finding a clean mug, and half-filled it with coffee, dumping in three packets of sugar before topping it up with a handful of non-dairy creamers.

"You'll rot your gut out, drinking that," a lilting voice said from a darkened corner of the room, making him jump, slopping coffee out all over his hand and the counter. "Or your teeth, with that much sugar."

Anders scowled, grabbing a handful of paper towels from a nearby stack – the cheap folded brown paper kind, barely absorbent – to swab up the mess, then tossed the sopping handful in the garbage and retrieved his mug before turning to face the darkened corner. He could see a faintly glowing red circle there, and the glint of eyes reflecting the light behind him. "Certainly no worse than that cancer-stick of yours, Sebastian," he said acidly.

A soft snort, out of the darkness. "It's not tobacco."

He lifted his eyebrows, taking a large sip of his coffee before speaking again. "Mr Prim-and-Proper, smoking grass?"

"Sweetgrass, yes – not marijuana," the man answered softly, seeming unconcerned by the scorn in Anders' voice. "It helps me to relax."

"You, relaxed? Isn't that a whatchamacallit... like military intelligence, or jumbo shrimp..."

"An oxymoron, you mean?" Sebastian asked, sounding amused.

Anders' scowl deepened; he didn't like being a source of amusement to the other man. "Yes, that," he agreed sharply. "Somehow the idea of you and 'relaxed' just don't seem to fit together in my head. Anyway, what are you still doing here? Don't you have pamphlets about the Maker's will to hand out somewhere? Proselytizing for the faith to do? Maybe even hungry to feed?"

A long silence from the corner. The red light glowed brighter for a moment, then swept off to one side and disappeared; stubbed out, he guessed by the movement. He heard Sebastian sigh, then the man rose to his feet and walked closer, into the circle of light.

Anders frowned Sebastian looked... different. His hair was mussed, his clerical collar undone, his eyes twinkling brightly, with a broad smile on his face; far more cheerful than Anders could ever recall seeing him.

Anders tensed as Sebastian drew closer; he'd never been able to bring himself to like the man, not when he knew Sebastian had been born to privilege, a son of one of the rich and powerful families who controlled the country, bought off the politicians, told the police what and what not to see or enforce. Sure, his family was almost all dead now – all save Sebastian – killed off by a rival faction of his own family, the rumour was, their riches and power all gone to some distant cousin. Sebastian himself had been involved with the Underground for years; he'd never seen eye-to-eye with his family, and they'd never approved of his lifestyle, neither before nor after he'd joined the church.

Anders suspected his motives; worried, always, that Sebastian was a spy for the powers that be. Seeing the way Sebastian was smiling at him now only made him worry all the more, feeling certain that whatever made the man so cheerful couldn't be anything he particularly care for.

"I was thinking, tonight, what a lonely job this is that we do, you and I and the others," Sebastian said, stopping just a foot away from Anders, head tilting slightly at one side. "Perhaps less lonely for you than for I – I've seen the way everyone watches you. The offers you get, from our colleagues and students alike. You could have a different body in your bed every night if you wished, couldn't you?" he asked, sounding more curious than challenging.

"So what if I could?" Anders asked. "I don't – it's too dangerous."

"Truly?" Sebastian asked, sounding mildly surprised. "I've missed it. Being promiscuous, I mean. I went through quite a phase of it in my youth; just one of the many things about me that earned my father's ire. Since you came here and started teaching, last year... I must admit I've felt more than a little jealous, once or twice, seeing how everyone flocked around you."

"Wanting the attention yourself?" Anders asked, putting aside his half-empty mug, worried about where the situation might be heading, and preferring to have his hands free in case it came to a fight.

"No," Sebastian said, then took a half step closer and leaned forwards, hands coming to rest braced on the edge of the counter to either side of Anders, his face just inches away. "Wanting you," he whispered.

Anders was so shocked – Sebastian's words being the last thing he would ever have guessed – that he froze, just standing there staring at the other man. Sebastian paused for just the slightest moment, tongue licking nervously over his lips, then leaned forward, slowly.

He could have moved. He should have moved; have avoided the kiss. But instead Anders stood frozen, unmoving until Sebastian's lips brushed lightly against his. Stood still even then, too surprised by the other man's words and actions to react at first, and then... and then he shivered, mouth dropping open as he moaned softly, just once, stunned by how good the kiss felt, every movement of Sebastian's lips against his seeming to send a shock straight down his spine and into his cock. A long time, since his last kiss from anyone; too long, since Karl had died a half-dozen years before.

Sebastian seemed to take his moan as permission – and perhaps it was. The man moved closer, pressing up against Anders, pushing him back against the counter edge, one hand rising to cup his cheek, the other bracing against the upper cabinets. The kiss deepened, lengthened. It seemed peculiarly intense, as if Sebastian's only focus was on the kiss, on how their lips and tongues met and mingled.

He started feeling lightheaded as the kisses went on and on, but not so lightheaded that he missed noticing when Sebastian's hands rose to his collar, and began undoing his shirt buttons one by one. He might have protested, then, but he was hard and horny and Sebastian's thigh was pressed just right between his legs, the man's tongue deep in his mouth. All he could do was moan softly as his chest was bared, and fingers stroked over the planes of his chest, finding and tweaking at his nipples.

Then Sebastian stopped kissing his mouth, and begin working his way lower. He worked his way down Anders' throat, stopping near the base to suck hard, hard enough to leave a visible mark Anders was sure. Then lower yet, licking and nipping his way down to one nipple, then over to the other. He went back and forth between them for a couple of minutes, nibbling and sucking, teasing and licking, then dropped to his knees. Sebastian's tongue circled the indent of Anders' belly button while his hands unfastened his jeans, tugging jeans and underwear both partway down Anders' thighs before he leaned further down and to the side, head turning so that he could lick at Anders' erection, then mouth along the underside of it, his tongue tracing wet circles against it within the circle of his lips.

Anders leaned back, bracing his palms against the counter-top, moaning at the feeling of the other man's mouth on his cock, of tongue and lips and occasionally just a touch of teeth. He tried to stay silent, knowing that others might still be there in the darkened school, but found it more and more difficult to do so when Sebastian's mouth closed around his tip, his tongue tracing wetly around it and tonguing at the slit in the end. Silence became harder yet as the man swallowed and took him in deep with an expertise he would never have believed that Sebastian might possess.

He jammed his own forearm in his mouth to muffle his cries of pleasure as Sebastian swallowed a couple of times before slowly pulling back his head, taking a single deep breath through his nose before swallowing him down again. Again and again he repeated the cycle; drawing back, throat and tongue working against Anders' length, then a deep inhale through his nose while his tongue teased at the tip, then down deep once more, with repeated swallows before he slow withdrew again.

The feeling of it was unbearably pleasurable, fluttering tongue and hot tight moistness and the flex of muscles tightening around him over and over again. Staying silent, staying still were almost impossible, the flex of his hips controlled only by Sebastian's firm grip on his thighs, the cries from his mouth stifled only by interposing his own flesh. He had to bite down hard on his arm to mute the scream that wanted to burst free as he finally came into Sebastian's mouth, an orgasm that left him weak-kneed and shaken with its intensity, leaning heavily on the counter for support.

Sebastian rose to his feet looking pleased with himself, almost smug, licking at his lips even as his hands carefully pulled Anders' underwear back up, tucking him gently back into place before pulling his jeans up as well, then buttoned both them and Anders' shirt. Anders just stared at him, uncertain what to do... what to say. What could you do or say when a man you distrusted and didn't particularly like gave you the most spectacular blow-job you'd ever had in your life?

Sebastian smiled slightly, lifting one hand to brush the back of his fingers against Anders' chin. "You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that, do you?" he asked, brogue even thicker than usual, voice warm with affection. He grinned boyishly, before turning and walking away.

Anders said nothing, just leaned there against the counter, listening to Sebastian's footsteps fade away down the deserted hallways.