She's baaack.

lol hey everyone,

I'm nervous about this chapter because I've never written something like this before, but hey, I'm open to challenges. Plus, a couple of you reviewed and PMed me requesting this, so here you go.

WARNING: Spanking of a minor.

Yup, you heard me folks. If this isn't your cup of tea, you know what to do. And another thing, Im thinking of re-updating some of the chapters. Any thoughts on that? Please review.

Thank you for reading as always.

Sneaking out of the office was a daunting task. It took the right amount of determination, commitment, bravery- and the patience to wait until Donna needed to use the restroom.

He's running down the hall with immense speed, praying that he doesn't bump into Harvey or any of his colleagues. Such blunder would cost him his escape plan, but so far so good. A part of him knows that he should be getting his ass back to the office before Harvey comes back. But that text from Tim told him otherwise, plus he's got somewhere to be. He's not staying.

Stiles repeatedly pushed the elevator button whilst whipping his head around, scanning the whole area. Call him paranoid, but that's what adrenaline combined with fear does. It's not because he's afraid of Harvey. It's what Harvey will do once he finds out Stiles ditched.

He quickly steps in when the elevator doors opened and pressed the main lobby button. In all honesty, he doesn't know what Harvey will do. And that, the failure to come up with an answer, is what scares him. With that thought, Stiles ran out as soon as the doors re-opened, almost crashing into one of the employees entering the building. He stopped running until he was a good block away from Pearson Specter Litt. And by God, were they changing names faster than he could fucking blink.

He grins. He feels as sly as James Bond when winning a convoluted game of poker. Ofcourse the gnawing anxiety feeling would eventually go away; along with Harvey's promise to comminate him. But this wasn't about Harvey now. He placed his earphones in, effectively drowning his thoughts, and the world outside reduced to a blur. He took a deep breath and felt his muscles starting to warm up. He didn't stop running until he saw the gym standing nice and tall.

~oOo~

On the outside he was stone-faced. There wasn't a single crack in his cool demeanor. On the inside, however, he was unquiet and ready to tear down the whole fucking firm. He looked at the spot he would have guessed Stiles was sitting and his hands curled into fists.

I should have glued him to the couch.

"Donna!" he finds himself saying, "where's Stiles?"

"I don't know," she says. "One minute he's brooding, the next he's not here."

He cursed under his breath. He should have seen this coming. And he would have, except he thought Stiles had enough fear and respect installed within him not to disobey. How unfortunately wrong he was. His respect was lacking ever since he lied to him. And that alone makes him want to swat the living hell outta that brat.

"Why," she asked, "is everything okay?"

"Just peachy," he growled.

He ignored Donna's what crawled up your ass? look and moved to sit at his desk.

Everything wasn't all quiet in his office. The wheels in his head were churning loudly, trying to locate the number one teen who managed to get under his skin. One thing was for sure though; he was definitely with those delinquents. And that thought alone aggrandized his anger. Stupid kid. Why couldn't he just listen? Why couldn't he just understand that Harvey wasn't trying to ruin his fun, but instead was looking out for his neck? It's all fun and games 'till someone gets hurt. And the last thing that Harvey wants to see is Stiles in a hospital or worse, having to dye his grey hairs.

Harvey drew his phone from his pocket and scrolled through his contacts until he found Stiles. He clicked on the name and pressed it to his ear.

"This is your Captain speaking. I can't pick up right now, so call back later."

Harvey's fingers curled around his phone and he almost threw it across the room. He knew it was too good to be true when he heard the brat's voice. It was ridiculous how the kid drove him insane even when he's not here.

He stuck to texting.

Hours passed by and he completed all his paperwork, and not a single text or call from Stiles. The paperwork proved as a distraction. But now that that distraction was gone, uneasiness picked at his nerves. He was frickin' pissed, yes. But in all honesty he was starting to get extremely worried; even more than before.

He picked up his suit jacket and phone. Stiles wouldn't return here. After he was done doing God knows what, he would go home.

And Harvey would be waiting for him.

…

Stiles took a swig of his water. They were done for the day, and he was ready to crawl under his covers after a cold shower. He felt the ache in his arms, shoulders, and in his quads. He knew they were gonna hurt like a bitch tomorrow morning, but he's gotten addicted to that sore pain. It was good pain.

David grabbed his towel and swung it over his huge shoulder. "Alright gang, let's go."

When Stiles opened his phone, he immediately saw a number missed calls and threatening texts. At first his stomach would do a summersault, but he was expecting this.

Pick up NOW

Where the hell are you?

Stiles pick up the phone.

Call me.

He didn't know whether to be annoyed, scared, or feel guilty. For some reason, the last one seemed to do the trick, probably because the texts seemed to get less threatening and softer towards the end.

"Guys, I gotta get home."

That created a series of whines and complaints.

"C'mon man," Sushi persuaded.

He shook his head. "Nah." He walked towards the exit. "I'll see you guys when I can." That is, if Harvey lets him step outside ever again. And that's a big if.

"Y'know," Jason called after him, "if my old man wanted to tan my hide, the last thing I would do is hurry home."

That caught his attention. He turned around and shrugged. "Well I'm not exactly you am I? Besides," he added, "I'm way more attractive."

He smirked when Jason flipped him off, and saluted the crew on his way out. His smirk fell when the wind started to bite at his nose. For some reason it was a cold reminder of what he might have to face at home. If Harvey's even home. He shoved his hands into his pockets. Let's just hope he's that lucky.

~oOo~

Stiles quietly slipped through the door. There's no use sneaking in because Harvey will either see him or not, depending if he's here, but he still doesn't feel like marching in like it's a damn parade. God knows the neighbors downstairs will appreciate it.

When Stiles enters the living room area every muscle, tissue, nerve, and thought freezes like he's entered a den with a hungry lion. There's Harvey, sleeves rolled up, sitting in the arm chair beside the couch, legs crossed, and a glass of scotch in one hand. He doesn't notice him at first, but when he does he's stands upright real fast and he's setting the scotch down on the coffee table.

"Where have you been?"

His calm tone felt like a face full of ice water. Fuck, he was even more frightening when he was screaming than with his cool calm voice.

He tries real hard not to gape. He clears his throat, but the lump in his throat doesn't disappear. "At the gym," he responds. His voice somehow remained steady, not at all like how he felt inside.

"Why did you leave the office?" He asked with that cool calm voice and that hard gaze of his.

"It got a little stuffy in there."

And suddenly, Harvey went from cool, calm, and composed to being fucking livid as he threw his glass of scotch at the wall, shattering it to a million tiny pieces. Stiles flinched when it hit the wall and he suddenly got the sense that he was gonna be that glass.

"I am not in the mood for your shit!" Harvey snaps at him and the whole house seems to shake under his stentorian voice.

Stiles wanted to yell something along the lines of, then why won't you leave me the hell alone! But he doesn't, even though he wants to.

"Well?" Harvey yells.

"What do you want me to say Harvey?" he asked exasperatedly.

His gaze hardens. "I want you to tell me why that big brain of yours thought it was a good idea to leave after I told you to stay!"

The frustration and anger builds up until it's all bubbling over.

"That's because everything is not a fucking competition!" He swears Harvey's eyes turn black, but he couldn't stop. "I'm not gonna give up something I enjoy doing for the sake of your stupid ego and your winning complex!" He was out of breath at the end of that sentence and he could tell that Harvey was out of mercy.

Suddenly, the anger morphs into confusion when Harvey starts unbuckling his belt. He was almost paralyzed at the realization. No fucking way.

"Come here." He isn't yelling anymore, but there's this weight in his voice, this firmness that doesn't just suggest obedience; it demands it.

Stiles shakes his head, almost tripping over his feet when Harvey steps forward. He stares at the door and then back at Harvey, and on reflex he takes a step back when he finds the Lawyer closing the huge gap.

"Stiles," Harvey he says slowly, like he's talking to a small child. "Come here."

Stiles could tell Harvey read his intentions when his eyes practically intruded into his mind through his face. He hates it when the man reads him like an open book. But he figures it isn't that hard considering he looks as freaked out as he feels. Everytime Harvey steps forward-belt in hand-he takes a step back.

"Stiles!" Harvey barks, patience lost, and that shocks him out of his stupor and sets his nerves on fire.

Stiles sprinted to the door. He heard footsteps behind him, but that only encouraged him to move faster. He knows this was such an irrational move on his part, running away like a coward, but he was just so damn scared of something he didn't even know. Adrenaline flowed in his bloodstream and his heart was beating so damn loud he can hear it—

He feels strong arms wrap around his waist and he is being jerked back. His feet leave the ground as he's a hauled away from the door. Stiles claws at the arms and violently twists in his grip. Harvey grips his wrist and manages to get it behind his back before he slams Stiles against the wall. He struggled a bit more and then gave up after a while when his efforts were futile. Maybe Harvey will loosen his grip and he'll somehow twist outta his hold and dash for the door—

"If you run again I'll drag your ass back here." He isn't sure what he's freaked out about more, the fact that Harvey's psychic or what's gonna happen next. He feels Harvey let go of him and his instincts scream at him to get away, but he'll know what would end up happening.

"Put your hands on the wall, Stiles."

He can't help that his wrists stay glued to his sides.

"It's either that or over my lap."

Within a blink of an eye, his hands were on the wall. He can't tell if Harvey's smirking or not, but he knows Harvey doesn't do empty threats.

"What are you doing?" he asks shakily. He hates how his voice quivers.

He heard Harvey inhale. "I'm spanking you." He doesn't say it maliciously, but in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone of voice.

It doesn't matter though because the words made him physically cringe. "Didn't know you swung that way," he jokes, but his voice betrays him. This was far from funny and too close to I'm screwed.

Harvey says nothing, but he places his hand on the small of his back, and Stiles can't help but flinch. It's weird though. Harvey's thumb draws tiny circles into his back as if to…calm him- or maybe calm himself. But that's the thing that he doesn't get. Why not just strike him out of anger? Why wait until your nerves are calm and back in place before continuing the punishment? He doesn't know and he doesn't feel courageous enough to ask.

It feels forever when the hand draws from his back. Then he suddenly feels a sting on his backside.

"Fuck," he curses, mainly from shock then from pain.

"Language," Harvey reprimands, as he brings the belt down once more.

He clenches his teeth. Stiles can't believe he's actually getting spanked by Harvey. But believe it or not after five swats that shit starts to hurt.

A lot.

"Why are we here Stiles?" Harvey asks.

He hates that Harvey has a natural patronizing voice and it riles him up. "Because you like beating up your son," he retorts.

The belt stops for a moment, one blissful moment, before its sting returns.

"No," Harvey says, "I'm not beating you. I'm spanking you."

"What's…the d-ifference?" he grunts.

"There's a huge difference. Beating you would be because I want to, spanking you," another sting of the belt just for sheer example, "is because I have to. And why do I have to Stiles?"

How the fuck should he know?

"I-I don't know," he hisses. Only because his backside is starting to burn.

"Think hard," Harvey says, before swatting him once more.

By the eighth swat, he's talking. "Because…shit…I l-lied to you. AH! A-and I disobeyed you!"

"Good." Harvey says, but there's something strange going on with his voice. Almost as if he's… upset.

Tears start to well up in his eyes and he shuts them real tight to keep them from escaping. He fists his hands tighter as the burning sensation starts to become unbearable.

"H-Harvey please," he finds himself pleading.

He feels even more miserably pathetic when Harvey doesn't respond.

"O-oh God," he accidentally lets a sob rip through his throat at the tenth swat. This was all so fucking embarrassing. It was that pain combined with embarrassment that made it so unbearable. He wondered when it was gonna end.

Hand on shoulder.

A gentle squeeze.

"Five more, Stiles."

He sniffed at that and buried his head in his arms. He jumped out of his skin on the eleventh one.

"I didn't know where you were," another swat, "or if you were okay. I'm trying to protect you, but I can't do that if you lie and disobey me."

Tears spilled down his face and he hated it. Hated every second of it. Hated the fact that he couldn't stop the tears from coming. He hated the fact that he couldn't bring himself to be angry at Harvey. Not when his voice held that much concern. Not when an immense amount of guilt crashed onto his shoulders.

The three swats reigned down quicker and with such unfathomable sting. He heard the belt being thrown on the floor and feels Harvey turning him around.

He can't help flinching from his touch and screwing his eyes shut not to look at his face.

"Let go of me," he gasps when Harvey's clutching both his wrists, pulling him flush against his chest. He struggles when he feels strong arms being wrapped around him, holding him in place. Harvey's lean but he has the strength of a fucking tank.

"Shh," Harvey whispers. "You're okay."

Only he doesn't feel okay. He feels guilty as shit and his ass burns and his heart feels like it's going to beat out of his fucking chest. He stops struggling though. Only because he's comfort-deprived and Harvey's scent, the scent of home, wafted into his nose, and he didn't realized how much he missed that smell.

"Look at me."

And shit, Stiles doesn't want to. He already knows what he looks like; red eyes, flushed cheeks, tears spilling down his face like the pathetic weakling he his. He doesn't have much of a choice when Harvey presses a hand to his face and raises his gaze to lock onto his.

And it's the worried look in his eyes that get to him because Christ, Harvey wasn't enjoying any of this. Maybe he didn't feel a stinging burn in his ass, but he remembers his Mom saying that a parent feels twice the pain their child feels. And dammit, tears start to stream down his face again.

"I-I'm s-sorry," Stiles says.

He feels a thumb wipe his tears. He feels a kiss being planted on his forehead and then another one on the crown of his head. Boy, does that make his insides feel all warm and fuzzy.

"I'm sorry," he says again. Only because he realizes that all this time he was being the selfish one, and not Harvey. He was trying to look out for him and he acted like a bratty little bitch.

"Shhh, it's alright." He feels Harvey's chest rumble as he speaks. "You're alright."

They just stay like that; Stiles' face buried in Harvey's chest, arms wrapped around him, a hand carding through his brown strands repeatedly.

Silence.

Then,

"My ass hurts."

He feels and hears Harvey chuckle and he can't help but to join in. "Yeah, that's the point."

Stiles looks up at Harvey. "Are you gonna do that from now on?"

His smile falls and Stiles almost hates himself for it. Harvey frowns, but his hand smooths the side of Stiles' face. "Not if you give me a reason to."

He simply nods.