(Strong T or Mild M)
Another smack filled the room accompanied by a loud curse as leather met the skin of Francis Stone's ass for the sixth time. It's normally even expanse of bisque flesh was now riddled with welts, turning an angry shade of red and well on it's way to bruising.
"What did I tell you, Frankie?" asked an even voiced Richie from behind his bound, pant-less lover of three months. He nonchalantly examined the material of the belt being used to implement Frankie's punishment while he waited for a response.
"Fuck you, Foley!" he snarled. "I'm a fucking badass villain who doesn't take orders from anyone! Especially not pretty boy geeks!"
Even in his compromising position, hands and ankles locked in high-tech cuffs against the wall of an underground portion of the Static/Gear headquarters with cheeks exposed and ready for whipping, Frankie retained his usual pride and ferocity.
"Wrong answer."
Francis threw his head back as pain shot across his flesh where the belt struck him yet again. Tears began to prick in the corners of his emerald eyes.
"What did I tell you?" Richie asked a second time. His tone making it clear that he would not ask a third.
Frankie grit his teeth so hard out of rage and pain that he thought they might chip. "To not get…thrown in jail, or…you'd punish me," he ground out.
"Right. And what was the first thing you did after we had that little talk?"
"That's not even right, Foley! You were one of the ones who got me thrown in there!"
Richie brought the belt down on him again, this time dangerously close to his balls, effectively shutting Francis up.
"No, Frankie. You are. I'm a hero and I can't go easy on you when you commit a major crime just because we're dating."
He ran the tips of his free hand's fingers across his handiwork and could hear a repressed whimper from the larger man.
"The fact is, I'm not asking you to become good or anything, just to not get thrown in prison. I hardly think that's asking for much." His digits continued to wander over the incredibly sensitive area. "And do you know why?"
Frankie had to focus on keeping his voice from conveying just how much Richie's touches hurt. "Why? So your job's easier?"
Richie's hand stilled. Those words hit him deep and he realized that his motive in doing all this wasn't getting through. He pulled his hand back.
Frankie was confused by the sudden lack of movement, trying to turn and see just what the blond was doing when he found his lips captured tenderly. He was kissed and kissed and kissed, slowly, softly, until both men had to surface for air, breaking the first kiss they'd shared in nearly two months.
Richie could clearly see just how much Frankie had enjoyed the kiss once they moved apart, his previously flaccid member now standing tall and proud between his legs. He was in a similar predicament himself.
Quietly, Richie explained. "I don't want you in prison for two reasons. One, I'm worried about the experiments they tend to perform on Bang Babies in there." He cupped Frankie's face in his palms, feeling the prick of stubble around the redhead's strong jaw. "You're one of the most powerful they know of and I don't want you coming out a different person than when you went in. I like hotheaded Frankie."
Francis preened under the gentle touches and caring words from the blond genius, seeing sincerity in his sky blue eyes.
"Two," he breathed, dragging steady, calloused hands from Frankie's chin, to his broad chest, to the twitching muscles of his flat stomach. "I can't wait for months on end to have you balls deep inside me."
Francis found his restrains hissing and releasing him from their grip, probably via an unseen cue from their creator.
"Now, thanks to you, we have seven weeks of fucking to catch up on."