Gabriel stalks around their home like an agitated cat for days. Lúcio says nothing. He keeps mostly to his room, working on some new mixes, watching out of the corner of his eyes how Gabriel steps into the room every now and then, looking like he got the courage up to say something before his face closes up once more and he retreats.

Lúcio waits. It is a new tactic; usually he seeks to confront conflicts with his submissive and talk them out, but this time he doesn’t feel like taking the first step – feels, in fact, uncharacteristically stubborn in that regard – and he can tell Gabriel is noticing the change. He can also tell that it upsets his submissive, but he feels like backing down now would not gain them anything.

When Gabriel finally does come to him, he is the picture of contrition; big hands positively fumbling with the beanie he wore to work, shoulders hanging. His dark face looks ashen and he is not looking at Lúcio for more than a second.

“Please,” he whispers, clears his throat, though it does not help much; he is still as quiet when he says: “I need… I need discipline. Please.”

Lúcio mutes the TV, his attention focusing on his big, rebellious submissive. Gabriel ducks his head, shoulders pulling up minimally. He looks like he is about to be sick. 

“I am sorry for… for the other day,” he croaks and Lúcio can’t help but smirk a bit. Gabriel is not suited for apologies – in fact, he can count the times his submissive apologized on one hand – and it still sounds like the actual words are sitting in his throat. “I want… I want it to be better. Please, I…” his bushy eyebrows twitch and he glances up at Lúcio with dark, nervous eyes. “Discipline me?”

Lúcio stands up, and feels a rush of affectionate warmth – and it’s been a while since he felt that… worryingly enough – when Gabriel hunches down to accommodate the difference in their height; get himself on level with his short dominant. He puts his forehead against Lúcio’s shoulder and sighs when he feels an affectionate scratch at the back of his neck.

“Very well. Go and clean yourself up for me, you smell of engine oil. And then come back here, hm?”

Gabriel groans, low and hurt sounding, grinding his forehead into Lúcio’s shoulder. He feels like a puppet with its strings cut; like he had been expecting Lúcio to fight him on this.

Finally, he stumbles away; as eager for his discipline as he’s only been in the beginning of their relationship – when he’d still had all those misguided expectations of what a dynamic such as theirs should look like.

.o.

“There you go. Does it hurt?” Lúcio murmurs, eyes fixed on the delicious swell of Gabriel’s testicles through the hole of the humbler. They’re heavy and so ripe looking they way they are presented now.

“No,” Gabriel whispers. He sounds so uncharacteristically meek, and when Lúcio peeks around to see his face, Gabriel’s cheeks and ears are dark with a fierce flush, his eyes wide and unseeing, staring at the floor. He looks like he wants to be anything but here. Like he’s already regretting asking for the discipline, and Lúcio has to laugh despite himself.

“Are you comfortable?”

“No,” Gabriel immediately says and Lúcio snickers, affectionately patting Gabriel’s hip.

“That’s alright. You’ll learn to enjoy it.” He squeezes the swell of his submissive’s ass, then cups the heavy sac without warning because he can’t ignore it when it is so very deliciously on display. It is so very warm in the palm of his hand; the skin soft and vulnerable; the testicles moving easily within.

“You look gorgeous like this. offering your pretty balls up to me.”

“Thank you,” Gabriel murmurs. Lúcio smiles to himself, chest blooming with warmth at how much Gabriel tries to be the perfect submissive.

“We’ll start slow. Don’t be afraid, now.”

.o.

Gabriel takes it better than he thought he would. He wonders whether it is because he tries so very hard to please him, or whether he might have underestimated his submissive.

He startled at the first, harsher tap to his balls, jerking instinctively away and grunting low in pain when the motion immediately made the humbler pull down on his balls.

He’s never been treated to this kind of pain; a very calculated sort of soreness that makes him restless but not dissatisfied. Lúcio has spanked him once or twice, but there is something different about focusing on his testicles. He can’t say why it might be different for Gabriel, but he can see it working in his head; the way he holds himself stiff and confused and the relaxation slowly growing through his body until he kneels sturdy like a bulldog on all fours, head hanging low, grunting with each new slap and simply taking the pain.

Maybe it is because it is sharper. Deeper. It connects with him in a different way than the spankings to his ass.

Lúcio is careful with doling out the discipline. He feels himself getting pulled into it, eyes steady on the erotic bounce of Gabriel’s heavy ball sac; ears tingling with his low, whining, pained grunts. Once or twice, when Lúcio caught his testicles in a certain way, he nearly collapsed to the floor, ass suddenly lowering and a long, drawn out breath wheezing from his lungs – but he always got himself back into position, hips lifting slowly, knees spreading apart… offering his tender testicles up for more slaps.

Lúcio’s cock is tenting his loose shorts, and his head pounds with an almost headache. He’s not been anticipating this; to be so engulfed by the willing pain of his submissive; the sight of his ripe balls offered up for pain; how they look bouncing after each carefully calculated slap.

He can feel himself pulsing out a string of thick pre-cum whenever Gabriel almost crumbles into himself, and finds himself wondering how it would be to break his submissive down like this. His big, stubborn, beautiful submissive just folding in on himself from a sharp smack into his gorgeous, low hangers… his strained voice grunting out a…

“What do you say?” he suddenly pants, feeling feverish, his hand heavy and restraining between Gabriel’s shoulder blades, grounding him; making him feel more safe during his punishment.

Gabriel looks bleary and out of it. His cheeks are wet, but so is the rest of his face. He is sweating and shivering, his cock not quite half hard. He looks so confused; like he doesn’t know whether he likes this.

“Wha…?”

“Your dominant gives you what you asked for. What do you say?” Lúcio’s voice almost takes on a begging lilt. He is as much a slave of his submissive as his submissive is to him. His cock pulses once more, his hand curling around the heavy, hot weight of Gabriel’s swollen balls, squeezing just this side of too harsh.

Gabriel grunts, back going straight at the sudden new kind of pain. His jaw hangs open, tongue almost lolling out. He is close to drooling and Lúcio almost wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him; shake the words out of his gorgeous submissive.

“Th-thank you,” Gabriel finally says, tongue stumbling over the words. Lúcio’s cock surges, flexing in his shorts, and he slaps Gabriel’s balls once more as a treat for good behavior – and then again and again just because Gabriel is thanking him each time, low and groaned; so grateful to his dominant for the abuse of his heavy, throbbing testicles.

Lúcio drags him around by his shoulder, hand a little rougher than usual in his handling with the submissive. He fumbles with the waistband of his loose biker shorts, pulling them down until his cock springs free – and Gabriel doesn’t have to be told what to do; simply dives down onto the dick and drools all over it.

His blowjob is too wet, too messy, but Lúcio can’t bring himself to make him slow down – he’s caught sight of Gabriel’s back in the mirror; can watch the dark red flush of his humbled ballsack while getting sloppily serviced by his eager, needy submissive; and it doesn’t take him long at all until he fills him up in thick pulses right down his throat – not when Gabriel is so very sweet and attentive and half down into subspace.

A large, affection starved dog that crawls over him, cum in his beard, movements awkward because of the humbler tying his balls.

“I am sorry,” he mumbles against Lúcio’s jaw, and Lúcio clumsily pats his shoulders, ears still ringing, toes prickling from how urgently he’d come.

“Everything is good now,” he promises him a bit indistinct; tongue not quite doing what he wants it to. “We’re fine.”