This chapter is actually Mikey-centric, because My Chemical Romance is my guilty pleasure. I apologise in advance.
Anyway, if you just want to read about Brendon, I'd suggest reading the beginning of this chapter and then skipping to the next one, because that will be what happens to Beebo.
I feel like I should put a disclaimer on this?
Disclaimer: None of this ever happened. This is make-believe. This is my kinky mind making shit up. None of this is real. NONE OF IT. Not even you, the person reading this. You are not real. Your life is just the dream a higher power is having. Amazing.
It was a late Saturday night and basically everybody was at Gerard's house for a party. Pete was talking to William Beckett, drinking a beer and laughing at a bizarre story including Gabe Saporta and a woodchuck.
All was well until Alex Suarez came in with a grin, yelling, "There's a fight in the living room!"
Everyone 'woo!'ed, while Pete just rolled his eyes. Chances are, the guys were wasted, and he didn't really want to see anyone damage Gerard's house. Pushing himself up from his chair, he followed everyone through the hallway, spotting Ryan in the crowd.
"Hey," he said with a grin. "You going to stop the fight, too? Or watch?"
"Nah, I'm gonna stop it," Ryan replied. "Guys usually get stupidly injured when it comes to this type of stuff."
Pete nodded in agreement, and a few moments later Spencer ran up to him. "Hey guys," he said, panting heavily. "Did you - did you hear who the fight's between?"
They exchanged glances. "Um, no, why?" Pete asked, just as Gerard made his way up to them.
"What're we talking about?" he asked.
"Spencer was just about to tell who the fight's between - I guess it's someone we know?"
They all turned to look expectantly at Spencer, who fidgeted awkwardly under all their stares. "I-It's, um, between… Brendon and Mikey."
Ryan groaned loudly, while Pete clenched his fists, looking particularly angry. Gerard, however, might've looked the angriest, a vein bulging in his forehead. Pete knew that Gerard let Mikey roam around pretty freely, but when he did fuck up, it meant an extremely hard spanking, and that maybe for the next few weeks he was kept on a pretty tight leash.
Thankfully, Mikey didn't fuck up a lot.
They made their way to the living room, Spencer trailing behind them. Gerard easily pushed his way through the large crowd that had formed around the two men, grabbing both Mikey and Brendon by the collar and pulling them away. "Fight's over, everyone!" he shouted, much to the displeasure of them, but eventually they began to disappear.
"What the hell was that?" he seethed at the two, watching them exchange nervous glances.
"U-uh…"
Gerard shook his head, handing Brendon off to Pete and Ryan (who he looked terrified of), before dragging Mikey to an empty bedroom. He sat down on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest and looking expectantly at his younger brother.
"Mikey, would you like to explain?"
"Um… there was a… slight disagreement?"
"Slight disagreement?" Gerard snorted. "Sure, Mikey. Sure. Throwing punches - which might I add left bruises - is definitely just a slight disagreement."
"Gee, he… he started it."
He raised his eyebrows. "That is one of the most immature statements I have ever heard come out of your mouth, Mikey," he said, "And that's coming from someone who has spent their whole life with you." Mikey blushed as Gerard stared at him, sighing, "What am I going to do with you?"
"You could do nothing with me and just let me go home," he suggested, grinning, while his older brother just looked unamused.
"Mikey, what you did was wrong," he said. "And I need you to understand that. You're twenty-one, for God's sake! You can't just go around getting into idiotic fights."
"I understand, though!" Mikey complained.
"If you have to say that - especially with that tone - then you definitely don't understand," Gerard said flatly. "Anyway, let's just get this over with, okay? Come bend over my lap."
Mikey winced when he said those words he had heard so often in the past, but which the frequency of was now slowing down. It had maybe been a couple months ago when he had gotten spanked last, and that hadn't been a pleasant experience (i.e. he spent the first few days locked away in his room because it hurt too much to walk, especially while wearing pants, and he had felt the pain for well over two weeks).
He had taken a few painstakingly slow steps forward before Gerard just rolled his eyes, smacked his bottom once, and dragging him over his lap. Pulling down his jeans and boxers, he began to land smacks at random, all extremely hard and painful.
The younger Way started making small noises of distress only a minute in - little groans of discomfort and such. However, they became louder very quickly, and it was only a matter of time before he was whimpering and asking Gerard to stop.
"You wish," was his response. "We're not even half way through yet, Mikey. Better get comfortable."
The other groaned loudly, muttering, "Fuck you, asshole."
"What was that?" Gerard questioned, landing a particularly harsh smack onto the under curve of his bottom, causing him to yelp loudly. "Can you repeat what you just said, Michael?"
"I'd rather not," he mumbled, wincing at the use of his full name.
Another hard smack. "You're not making this any better for yourself," Gerard warned, laying down another onslaught of swats. "Now, I'm going to ask you some questions, okay? We'll start off simple — what in the world," Smack. "Drove you to," Smack. "Get into a fight," Smack. "With Brendon?" Smack.
Mikey cried out after every smack, "I-It was over something stupid. And, l-like I said earlier, he started it!"
"Mikey, you do realise that blaming it all on Brendon isn't going to get you anywhere, right?"
He blushed, "Y-Yeah…"
"Then why do you keep doing it?" Smack.
"I-I don't know…"
Gerard rolled his eyes, realising that his hand was getting a little sore. He stopped for a moment, thoughtful, before gently pushing Mikey off his lap. "Go stand in the corner, alright?"
His younger brother looked at him as if he were insane. "What?"
"Go stand in the corner."
"Ge— what?"
"Are you going deaf, Mikey?" Gerard asked, raising an eyebrow. "Go. Stand. In. The. Corner."
"N-No, I heard you but… what?"
"Mikey, seriously," he said, looking at his brother, unamused. "Now go stand in the corner or I'll make you."
"B-B-B-But!" he stuttered. "That's for little kids!"
"Says the boy with his pants around his ankles and a cherry red bottom," Gerard said, causing the younger Way to flush. "Now, if I have to repeat myself once more, there will be consequences. Go stand in the corner, Mikey."
A defiant look on his face, he sounded much like a little kid when he said, "No."
"Michael."
"No!" he all but whined.
"Michael James Way," Gerard addressed sternly, "What has gotten into you?"
Not waiting for a response, he swung him around with a quick movement and began smacking his bottom, ignoring the pain in his hand.
"I will not have this kind of attitude from you!" he scolded, punctuating each word with a hard swat. "I know damn well that you're twenty-one, yes, but if you act like a five year old, then I will treat you like one! And currently, if you didn't realise, you're acting like one. And I will put you over my lap and into the corner as many times as it takes for you to get it ingrained into your head that you are an adult! And you will goddamn act like one, or you can't expect me to treat you like one, okay?"
Mikey was crying loudly by the time the lecture was over, tears streaming down his face. His bottom hurt like hell.
"Okay?" Gerard repeated, smacking his bottom harshly.
"O-Okay!" Mikey squeaked, causing the other to stop.
"Now, are you ready to go into the corner?"
"Y-Yes, s-sir!"
Gerard smiled a bit at the word 'sir', before smacking his bottom once more. "Off you go then," he said with one final swat.
The younger Way all but ran to the corner, sticking his nose into it and standing extremely straight. Gerard watched him for awhile before getting up and saying, "I'll be back in a couple minutes. Don't move, okay? If I find you have there will be dire consequences."
With that, he got up, locking the door behind him to save Mikey from the embarrassment of someone walking in and seeing him. He made his way downstairs, seeing that the party just seemed to have gotten into full swing. The music was painfully loud, everyone was dancing/making out/both, and there was trash everywhere.
Woo, Gerard thought sarcastically.
He mingled with a few people before grabbing two glasses of cold water and going to his own bedroom to grab a large, oaken paddle. Thankfully, everyone was too drunk to question why he had a paddle in his hand.
Unlocking and opening the door, he was thankful to see that Mikey was still in position, back straight and nose in the corner. However, one thing was wrong — his hand was rubbing his bottom.
"Mikey!" Gerard exclaimed sharply, setting the two glasses of water and the paddle down, going to smack him. "You know better!"
After the smack, he heard his younger brother suck in sharply, obviously in pain. He felt kind of bad, but at the same time not.
"Can I come out soon?" he heard his muffled voice ask.
"Well, I would've let you out in—" He looked at the clock mantled onto the wall. "One minute, but because of that little slip-up you've earned yourself another ten. Have fun."
A loud groan was his response, and he couldn't help but laugh. Going to take a drink from one of the glasses of water, he watched the younger Way in the corner. He shuffled around for a bit but Gerard clearing his throat made him stop immediately. His bottom was an impressive shade of red, and he almost felt bad. There was still quite a bit of the punishment to go, so that meant that by the end it would be almost purple and there would be bruises. Because this was such a bad feat, he had decided earlier on that this would be a harsher lesson than any one Mikey had had before. And that meant that he had to go way beyond this.
Soon, the eleven minutes was up and Gerard said, "Come here, Mikey."
He turned around, hair matted against his face instead of up like it normally was. "Now lean over the bed."
A loud whine immediately escaped his throat. "Gee, nooooo."
"Yes," was his response. "Lean over, or I'll make you. And trust me, you do not want to go down that road."
He stamped his foot, which was actually quite adorable, albeit immature, before huffily bending over. His dark red ass was up in the air, vulnerable to the world, and Gerard picked up the paddle from its place on the night desk.
Mikey took a sharp intake of breath when he realised what was in his older brother's hand, and mentally braced himself. Of course, whenever this happened, he never mentally braced himself enough, and so the first smack made him cry out loudly.
The smacks started to rain down in a steady pattern, and soon tears had started to leak from Mikey's eyes again. It took around two minutes to start making noise, though, but when he did, he made loud, heart-retching sobs. Gerard felt a pang in his heart, but steeled himself to go on.
Roughly fifteen minutes later - where all you could hear in the room were the wails of Mikey and the swish of the paddle - Gerard stopped. Mikey buried his face into the duvet, thinking, Is it over? Please, please, please— The sound of Gerard unbuckling his belt took him from his thoughts.
"Gee, no!" he cried. "Please, please, no!"
"Mikey, you deserve this whole punishment," Gerard said firmly. "Now, be quiet, or you'll get extra."
That shut him up.
After finishing taking off his belt, the older Way folded it over before bracing himself.
"This is gonna hurt, Mikey," he told his brother.
"It already hurts," was the muffled response.
Gerard chuckled, before bringing the belt down. Hard.
Mikey screeched, his mind going into overdrive. The pain was too much. His hand instinctively reached back, eager to rub away the sting (like that would work), but one noise of displeasure from Gerard was enough to make him snatch it back.
Another whap came, and then another, and another, and another, and Mikey realised that he had started bawling again. He couldn't even make the tears stop anymore - they just kept coming, streaming down his face, salty and hot.
Time seemed to become infinite then. Mikey was sure that the spanking would never stop, that Gerard would never deem him 'punished', that this was some sort of hell he was condemned to. However, it was actually only like ten minutes before Gerard had stopped.
He was slightly aware that he was being moved, but became very aware when his pants and boxers were pulled up. Jumping up slightly, he let out a loud, "OW!" as they scraped against his very, very sore bottom.
"It hurts, Gee," he whined. "It huuurts."
"I know it hurts," Gerard replied, chuckling slightly while rubbing soothing circles onto his back. "But it's supposed to hurt."
Mikey pouted, burying his face into Gerard's shoulder. "I want sleep," he mumbled.
"And sleep you shall get," Gerard said, helping him stand up. "C'mon, I'll drive you to Frank's house. That is where you're staying, right?" Mikey nodded. "Good. I'd offer a bed here, but there's an obnoxiously loud party going on downstairs and I don't think anyone in this house could get sleep, honestly."
The party hadn't changed at all when they went downstairs, making their way out the front door and past the many couples making out on the lawn. Gerard had grabbed a pillow from inside and put it on the car's seat before Mikey sat down (who flashed him a grateful smile at the gesture).
The pillow didn't really help all that much, though, as more than three-fourths of the trip to Frank's was spent shuffling uncomfortably in his seat, which just caused more discomfort.
When they arrived at Frank's, Gerard led Mikey inside, giving him some water before taking him to bed. He waited until he was sure the younger had fallen asleep before slowly and quietly leaving, a soft smile playing on his lips.
Downstairs, he saw Frank just coming in, taking his shoes and jacket off. "Gerard?" he asked, confused.
"Mikey," Gerard replied simply, and Frank nodded understandingly. "Can you do me a favour, Frank?"
"Sure?"
"So, Mikey got into a fight with Brendon—" Frank's eyes darkened and Gerard quickly added, "He's been punished enough for that, though. There's no need to give him more. Anyway, could you bring him to Brendon's - actually, Ryan's, that's where he's staying - tomorrow to make him apologise? If he's any trouble, you know what to do. If he gets really out of hand, call me. I'll deal with him."
Frank smiled. "Of course."
Gerard smiled in return, turning to walk out the door before looking over his shoulder. "Could you try putting some lotion on his ass, too? It's really nasty."
The younger nodded, and Gerard waved goodbye, before leaving.
Frank sighed when the oldest Way was gone, Mikey, Mikey, Mikey… he thought, shaking his head before going up to his room.
…
The next morning, after waking up himself, Frank went to get Mikey up. He almost laughed at the scene in front of him - the youngest Way was lying on his stomach, comforter over his head instead of body and bottom sticking up. Frank could see crimson splotches peeking out from beneath his boxers and winced, thinking of how much it hurt.
"Mikey," he cooed, "It's time to get up."
"Nooo," the older man whined. "Don't wanna."
"I don't want to spank you," Frank said, before patting his backside. "Especially with that bottom, but I will."
Mikey groaned loudly, flipping him off. "You can't spank me," he said, muffled by the pillow.
"Oh, I beg to differ," he said. "Gerard told me long ago that I could, you know. I've just never used that privilege. Now stop being a brat."
"No," Mikey said defiantly, sitting up (hissing at the pressure on his bottom) and crossing his arms. "You don't get to spank me. Only Gerard can. And last time I checked, you're not him."
"Mikey, even if Gerard hadn't told me I could spank you, I still would." Frank raised his eyebrows. "You're being a nuisance, and you know what come to nuisances, right?"
"…"
"Mikey."
"Spankings," he mumbled, blushing. "Spankings come to nuisances."
"Mmhmm," Frank nodded, before pulling the younger Way up and landing ten hard smacks onto his bottom. He cried out, reaching his hand back, but the other man tutted and caught it mid-air. "No rubbing - you know better."
Mikey groaned, but complied, and Frank smiled. "C'mon, then. I'll make you some coffee."
Immediately perking at the word 'coffee', the two of them were soon downstairs, cups of the steaming liquid in front of them. "After this, we're going to Ryan's house, where you'll apologise to Brendon."
Mikey's eyes darkened. "I don't wanna apologise," he said petulantly, pouting.
"Well, you need to, and you're going to," Frank said. "Even if you don't want to."
Sighing, his shoulders deflated and he nodded. "Don't expect me to be nice, though."
"Actually, I do expect you to be nice," the other man said, looking at him pointedly. "And if you aren't, there will be consequences. Now, finish your coffee so we can go."
Mikey drank his coffee painstakingly slowly, and Frank rolled his eyes, knowing he was doing it on purpose. Eventually, he got fed up and just took the coffee from him, setting it down on the table before dragging Mikey out to the car.
Ten minutes later, they were standing outside of Ryan's apartment and knocking on the door. Ryan opened the door (as expected), hair ruffled and wearing a worn pair of jeans and t-shirt. His face was confused when he saw Frank, but became understanding when he saw Mikey standing next to him.
"Hey," he said, laughing a bit. "I was just about to go to your house, but I guess you're here, so I don't need to. Come in, though."
"Thanks," Frank said, looking at Mikey warily. While they were taking off their jackets, he whispered into his ear, "Be good or you know what will happen."
"Brendon!" Ryan called. "Come downstairs!"
And he did. Frank immediately noticed that his eyes were kind of red from crying, so he assumed he'd just gotten another spanking before they'd come. He looked at Frank, confused, before looking at Mikey and sighing, trudging down the stairs.
Frank didn't realise, but Mikey did, that when Brendon brushed past him, he lightly smacked his ass. To a passerby, it wouldn't have looked like anything - maybe just Brendon's hand slipping out of his pocket, but Mikey knew it was on purpose; a test. And when he tensed up and let out a low hiss, the younger man smirked knowingly. He glared back.
The two then started a sort of glare-off, while the other men talked. They were talking about something boring — politics? Mikey didn't really care. They walked off into the next room, leaving them there to glare at each other. It was silent before Mikey said, "You know, this is all your fault."
"Fuck off," Brendon said loudly.
A chair screeched in the distance and the next thing they knew Ryan had turned Brendon around and was swatting him. The younger man yelped loudly, shouting a muffled, "Ry-an!"
Ignoring him, he turned him around and simply said, "Apologise."
Frank quirked an eyebrow at Mikey - a silent, "You too."
But Brendon and Mikey just continued to glare at each other, causing Ryan to mutter, "Are you kidding me?"
Him and Frank shared a look, before going up to the two boys and smacking them each twenty times. Mikey all-but screamed, biting his lip and looking at Frank, wounded. His only response was, "A-pol-o-gise."
"Fine," he huffed, before turning to Brendon. "I'm sorry for, um, punching you? And, like, getting into a fight with you…"
Ryan then looked at the younger man, raising his eyebrows as if to say, You're turn.
Brendon sighed, before inhaling deeply and saying, "Um… I'm sorry for punching you, too. And starting the fight… and being rude in general…"
"Now that wasn't too hard, was it?" Ryan asked, rolling his eyes. "Anyway, Frank, Mikey — you guys wanna stay for lunch?"
"Sure," Frank agreed happily, while the other man just groaned inwardly. This was going to be a long day.
…
An hour later, Mikey had insulted Brendon six times, been insulted by Brendon five times, and had a really, really, really sore bottom. Eventually, when Brendon flipped Mikey off and Mikey responded with a loud, "Fuck you!", Frank just sent him a look and whispered, "You are going to regret that."
He kept sending him the same look every time he did something bad, but never actually did anything else. Mikey wondered if he was off the hook.
Of course, he wasn't.
For when they left Ryan's and arrived at Frank's, he said, "Go to your room and to the corner with your pants and underwear off. I'll be up in a few minutes."
Mikey opened his mouth and closed it, like a fish out of water, for a few moments before his bottom was being smacked and he heard, "Now."
Once the older man had scurried away, Frank ran a hand over his face and reached for his phone. Dialling Gerard's number, the oldest Way answered after a few rings.
"Hey, what's up?"
"Gee, I need some help."
"What sort of help?"
"Like, what-the-hell-am-I-supposed-to-do-with-Mikey help."
"Ah. What'd he do?"
"I think it'd be easier to tell you a list of what he didn't do."
"That bad?"
"That bad. Anyway, I have no idea to what to do. I mean, he obviously needs to be punished, even with his bottom's current state but, like… I don't want to permanently damage him or anything."
"Okay, Frank - hear me out. Remember that time I spanked you?"
Frank flushed, before replying, "Y-yeah."
Gerard chuckled, "Well, remember how I used that paddle? It was kinda thin, and made of oak?"
"Um, yeah, I do remember. It hurt like hell, by the way."
"I know. Anyway, I left it at your house. It should be in your closet on the top shelf, I believe. Spank him for, like, seven minutes with that — but on the thighs. They should be mostly unmarked. After that, get a wooden hairbrush — you have one, right?"
"Mmhmm."
"Okay, spank him with that for five minutes — on the bruises. It should give him something to think about. After that, take some of that cream or whatever, but not the soothing kind. I think it's called Icy Hot? It should make his ass sting even more. Just, like, put that on him, and… yeah. If he's crying a lot, which he probably will be, then make him some hot chocolate before putting him to bed, okay?"
"Okay," Frank said, "Thanks, Gerard."
"You're welcome," he replied. "Take good care of my little brother for me, will you?"
"I will. Bye."
"Bye."
And that was that. After, Frank headed upstairs to get the paddle, brush, and cream. He went to Mikey's room then, seeing him in his expected place in the corner, and watched for awhile before saying, "Mikey, you can come out now."
He turned around, looking pitifully at Frank with a pout. "Over the bed," the younger man said, nodding his head towards it.
A low whine came from the bottom of Mikey's throat as he threw himself down onto the soft mattress, burying his face in the duvet. Frank grabbed the paddle, massaging his thighs with it before smacking it down.
The youngest Way jumped, yelping loudly. Frank brought it down again, hitting harder every five or so swats, and watched as Mikey's creamy white thighs slowly turn brighter and brighter red. He soon had tears leaking out of his eyes and was crying out every few moments.
Frank stopped after seven minutes, listening to the sobs come out of the older man's mouth. He frowned, feeling kind of bad - he had never spanked Mikey that hard before. Still, he had to power through.
Setting the paddle down, he grabbed the brush and began to rub Mikey's bottom with it. Suddenly - SMACK.
Mikey cried out, reaching his hand back, but Frank grabbed it before he could begin to rub. "You know the rules," Frank lectured. "No. Rubbing."
"Fra-ank!"
He continued to swat, watching as the areas around the bruises that had sort of faded away became red again. Around four minutes in, he began to spank directly on the bruises, causing Mikey to let out a loud wail.
"Frank, stop!" he begged. "P-Please!"
But he didn't - there was still maybe a minute left of the spanking. So he continued, and Mikey continued to sob, until he couldn't even stop the tears and yelps if he wanted to.
Finally, Frank did stop, listening to Mikey choke on his sobs for a few seconds before gently picking him up and laying him over his lap. He opened the bottle of cream with one hand, squirting some into his hand.
Mikey relaxed, thinking it was soothing lotion like Gerard usually put on him. He expected his bottom to start feeling cooler and a bit nicer after it was rubbed on, but no. It started to hurt.
"Frank?" he questioned. "I-I don't think the lotion's working…"
"It's working exactly how it's supposed to work," Frank said, patting his bottom.
"B-But… it hurts."
"Mikey, this cream is supposed to make it hurt more," he said.
"W-What? T-That doesn't… that's not fair! A-And i-it hurts!"
And then he started to cry again, fresh tears staining Frank's jeans. Eyes softening, he flipped the older man over, cradling him in his arms.
"Shh," he hushed, "Shh… it's okay, Mikey. It's okay. It's over."
He continued sobbing, and Frank thought back to what Gerard had said. Make him hot chocolate? Okay. He could do that.
Carrying Mikey downstairs, he gently set him on the sofa before going to make some. When it was done, he offered it to the older man, who accepted it graciously.
He seemed a lot more calm after he'd drunk the hot beverage, and sleepy. Picking him up again, he brought him upstairs, tucking him into bed with a slight smile.
"Goodnight, Mikey," he said.
"G'night Frank," the older man replied, half-lidded and drowsy.
