(There's a person called Caroline in this - she doesn't really matter, just an OC, but the plot doesn't revolve around her)
Ryan came downstairs, the brush and paddle behind his back. Caroline was in the kitchen, making a coffee and humming softly. She hadn't heard when Brendon had gone to the corner, as he had been tip-toeing, but she could hear Ryan when he did.
"Hey, did you find Bren?" she called, walking into the hallway with a steaming mug of coffee.
"Yeah, I did, thanks, but I still need to talk to him," he said, smiling. Caroline was quite pretty - with red hair and high cheekbones. She was only 15 now, but when she was older there'd be boys lining up for her.
"Well, before you do, want any coffee?" she asked, holding up her cup in indication.
"Not now," he said, "But maybe later?"
"Yeah, that'd be fine," she replied. "What do you need Brendon for, by the way? Music stuff, I'm guessing? Unless you're not his band member, which I thought you were… Sorry, I'm rambling."
"It's fine," he laughed. "But yeah, he is my band member. I'm Ryan Ross, by the way. I didn't tell you earlier - kinda just barged in. And I need Brendon because… we need to have a conversation."
A conversation with my belt and his ass, Ryan thought darkly.
"Oh, well, that's fine," Caroline said. "Brendon's been in a kinda bad mood for the past week. Snapping, swearing, yelling at people - stuff like that. So I'm not really sure if he'd like to talk."
Ryan's smile dimmed. Brendon was really in for it this time.
"Anyway, I'm gonna head out," she continued. "I'm meeting some friends at the mall. Tell Brendon when you go talk to him, kay? I'll be back before dinner."
And then she was gone, front door slamming shut behind her.
Ryan headed to the living room, where Brendon was standing with his back straight in the corner. He noticed one thing at once - his bottom wasn't bared. Usually he wasn't so strict and would let it slide, but today he was extremely angry with Brendon's behaviour and wouldn't let anything go. He set the brush and paddle down and immediately went up behind him and smacked his butt ten times, causing the younger man to cry out.
"That's for not taking your pants down," Ryan said, grabbing him from the ear and dragging him over to the sofa. He sat down, pulling the younger man over his lap, tugging down his pants, and taking the brush from where he'd set it. A moment later, it was slammed down onto his bottom, causing him to yelp in pain and try to cover it.
Ryan grabbed his wrists, pinning them to his back and continuing the brush assault. Brendon was soon wriggling around, determined to miss the swooping aim of the brush, but to no avail.
"Why were you so rude?" Ryan demanded after a few minutes, still smacking. "Why did you start swearing at people? Why did you think it was okay to yell at everyone? Why did you think it was okay to directly disobey my orders, hmm, Brendon? Why?"
Ryan knew that it would take awhile for him to actually start talking. It always did. In the beginning of a spanking, he was shut up, engulfed in his own thoughts and not paying attention to anything but the pain and himself. So Ryan continued, strong and silent - exactly what Brendon needed now.
After ten minutes of nonstop smacking, Ryan set the brush down. He was blinking back tears, his eyes wide, his heart pounding in his chest. The other man pulled down his boxers, wincing a bit at the firetruck red backside before him. He then picked up the paddle, gently massaging his bottom with it.
"Brendon," he said softly. "Are you ready to tell me why you've been having such a bad attitude these past few weeks?"
His mouth opened, but nothing came out. Ryan sighed, raising the paddle up and bringing it down with all his might. Brendon jumped immediately, a slight sob escaping his lips as he reached his hand back. Ryan tapped it with the paddle in warning and he quickly swiped it away, shaking slightly.
"Ryaaaaaaaaan," Brendon whined,
"Brendooooooon," Ryan mocked, bringing the paddle down again, causing the other man to cry out.
It continued like this for roughly fifteen minutes. Brendon began to sniffle slightly. His bottom burned and burned, but he had always had a high pain tolerance, so it took quite a bit to get through to him. Again and again and again and again, the paddle came down on his upturned backside. Tears began to leak out of the corners of his eyes as the pain became more and more.
Soon, he was yelling for Ryan to stop. "Stopstopstopstopstop!" he cried. "Please, Ryan, please!"
But Ryan pressed on, his arm never seeming to get tired. Brendon began to sob, swears flying out of his mouth without hesitation. Ryan, obviously, didn't like this, and it took twenty extremely hard smacks to stop them.
After fifteen minutes, Ryan stopped abruptly. Brendon groaned inwardly, knowing that it wasn't over yet, as Ryan never just stopped. There was always a slowdown, where the smacks would get softer, and the sweet murmurs would get louder. But that hadn't happened yet.
"Brendon," Ryan spoke softly, beginning to rub his upturned bottom, "I need you to get up, okay? And lie across the back of the sofa."
"Nooo," Brendon whined, and Ryan smacked his bottom twice.
"Yes," he said, "Now get up, or I'll make you."
Brendon kicked his feet, sniffling and slowly rising. He looked much younger this way - like a naughty seven year old rather than a man of twenty. He wiped his eyes, bending over the back of the sofa with a slight whine. Ryan walked up behind him, admiring the dark red ass in front of him, before unbuckling his belt and folding it over.
First setting it on Brendon's bottom, he raised it up and brought it down. Hard. Brendon screeched, bolting upright and rubbing at his bottom furiously. Ryan raised his eyebrows, before grabbing his ear and pulling him back over. The belt came down, over and over, while tears streamed down Brendon's cheeks.
"P-please," he cried out after a particularly harsh lick. "P-please, Ryan! Stop!"
But Ryan continued. He continued for a long time, never ceasing. Finally, he spoke.
"Brendon? Are you ready to answer my previous question now?"
"P-previous question?" Brendon questioned meekly.
"Yes," Ryan said, setting the belt down and instead using his hand to smack. "I asked why you've had such a bad attitude for the past few weeks."
"Oh," he said quietly. "I've just had a really… ow!" He took a sharp breath at a particularly hard swat. "I've been in a… a bad mood, I guess. I k-kept waking up in a-a cold sweat and I was really angry and I don't know why and please, please stop!"
"Why were you in a bad mood, Brendon?" Ryan asked, swatting his backside again. "Why?"
"N-no reason…" Brendon said quietly.
Ryan snorted. "Sure, Brendon," he said sarcastically. "That's a lie and we both know it. Tell me the real reason."
"I-it's the album!" Brendon burst out after a couple moments of silence. "W-what if the fans don't like it? W-what if they think it's weird, and they won't listen to it?"
Ryan stopped, eyebrows furrowing. "What do you mean, Brendon?" he asked.
"W-well, it's so… different. Not in a bad way, but it's a lot more different than our last album, you know? So what if no one likes it?"
Beginning to rub his bottom, Ryan said, "That's not going to happen, Bren. They're gonna love it, okay?"
"I-I know, but what if they don't?" Brendon cried, tears pouring out of his eyes nonstop. "What if they hate it and e-everything is ruined and—" He began to sob loudly.
Ryan sighed, guiding Brendon back to the sofa, which only caused him to cry more. "P-please don't spank me anymore!" he begged. "Please, Ryan! Please!"
"I'm not going to spank you anymore, Brendon," the older man said, gently rubbing his bottom. "We're just going to sit here, okay? And you can cry all you want, and you can scream all you want, but we're still just going to sit here."
That only seemed to make him cry harder, mortified. He cried and cried until he couldn't cry anymore and all that came out of his mouth were dry hiccups. But the whole time, all he could do was lay over Ryan's lap, his purpling bottom up in the air and red eyes staring at the floor.
It was more than half an hour when Ryan gently lifted him back up, rubbing calm circles on his back. "Shh," he hushed the younger man, "Shh, Bren, it's alright."
Brendon hiccuped loudly, setting his face into Ryan's shoulder. They stayed like that for awhile before Ryan rose, tugging Brendon's boxers up. He hissed loudly when they touched his stinging bottom, rubbing at it furiously while pouting. Ryan smacked it once, tutting. "No rubbing," he said, "You know the rules."
Whining, Brendon wiped at his eyes and began to walk towards the stairs, before Ryan stopped him. "Oh, no, no, no," he said, "We're going out for dinner with Caroline and Sarah."
Brendon's eyes widened, before he exclaimed, "You can't be serious! Ryan, my butt is burning! How the fuck do you expect me to sit down at a restaurant and—" He was cut off by a hard smack and sucked in sharply.
"Brendon Boyd Urie!" he scolded. "You will not have that attitude around me any longer! Now, you're going to go to dinner, and you are going to be a loving husband and father, and you will not complain, okay?"
A whine came from the back of his throat, but he complied, going to retrieve his pants from the living room before trudging off to the kitchen for a coffee. Ryan laughed softly, joining him as they waited for Caroline and Sarah to return.
After half an hour they did, and Sarah greeted Ryan happily. "It's been so long!" she exclaimed, laughing. She did raise an eyebrow when Brendon shifted in his seat continuously, but he just smirked in response.