“I bet that hurt good, didn’t it, darling?” Lúcio croons, hand stroking warm and soothing across the spot he slapped once, sharp. Gabriel is restless, knees moving apart, unconsciously showing off the swell of his heavy balls between his thighs, then closing them up again to present a better canvas for Lúcio to lay into.
Truth be told, he was used to different kinds and levels of pain during scenes. Still, the sudden slap had been startling enough to have him yip like a god damn dog.
“Can you settle down better now?” Lúcio asks, one hand still cupping the tingling spot on the back of his thigh, the other firm and grounding on his neck – keeping him down where he was lying across Lúcio’s lap.
He’d been petulant again; throwing himself ill-tempered across the boy’s lap after he’d been asked a few times, thinking this was fucking stupid. He was towering across the kid and wouldn’t even really fit on his lap. It would look ridiculous, he would look ridiculous – and he was deathly allergic against getting made fun of.
Lúcio had taken his weight without complain and had let him squirm around, dig elbows into his sides and huff in exaggerated annoyance for about five minutes before the slap had come; sudden and unexpected and startling him into a marble-like stillness.
“Again?” Lúcio asks softly, the hand on the nape of Gabriel’s neck moving, sliding down the slope of his back before returning and gripping him again when Gabriel made a low, grunting sound of distress. “Shh. I got you. You want it again?”
Gabriel grunts. Lifts his ass. His face burns in embarrassment and he hates it. He hates that he feels so dumb and ridiculous and that tears are stinging at his eyelids from just one little baby slap. He’s had harder. A lot harder. He’s had things this little boy could never –
“You need to tell me with words. Do you want one more?”
He bites his lip bloody before exchanging it for the fabric of Lúcio’s bermuda shorts. (Always the same ridiculous fucking shorts.) Lúcio let him and waited patiently for his answer.
Gabriel finally caves, spitting out his answer like a curse.
“Yes. Please. Fuck.” He curses just for good measure. Lúcio chuckles and lifts his hand again.
“Good boy.”
Cyberrat Writes 