They'd just arrived back at his apartment, but Cliff still felt an uneasiness in him. Before they left the Mode offices, a weird interaction he overheard Marc having with his coworker stuck with him. He kind of knew what he was getting into when he first started dating Marc. He was a guy from the fashion industry, known for its cutthroat attitude, and they hadn't started out that well either, with Marc clearly taking issue with him not fitting the beauty standards of the time. He'd been pretty mean to him sometimes, but Cliff had always let it slide for some reason.
But why should he? Yes, Marc's weird behaviors could be funny and a bit of sparring was fun sometimes too, but only up to a certain point. The more Cliff spent time with him, the more he became aware of Marc's bizarrely cruel nature. At some point it wasn't playful anymore, it was uncomfortable to experience, no matter who it was addressed to. Well, at least Marc had some courtesy towards him and seemed to be learning to accept that Cliff will never value thinness and tight clothes over comfort and practicality, but when it came to other people? Cliff was convinced that Marc was stalking at least one of his coworkers and putting pictures of her online, when he tried to confront Marc about it, he always deflected, but that wasn't good enough anymore. Cliff couldn't with clean consciousness ignore that his boyfriend was harassing and stalking people, inexplicably he still loved him, but these things couldn't go unaddressed.
"Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something," Cliff said as Marc hung up his coat and headed toward the kitchen.
"Sure, let me just get some glasses first, I can't wait to open this bottle of wine, ugh, you won't believe the day I've had."
Marc spoke casually as he started to unscrew the bottle he'd brought for them, he didn't seem to catch anything off with Cliff's question.
Cliff nodded and went to sit on the couch, Marc soon following with two glasses filled with white wine in each hand.
"There you go, my love," he grinned, passing one of the glasses to Cliff, sitting beside him and reclining against the couch with his elbow, resting his head against his hand, "so, what'd you want to talk about?"
Cliff smiled, taking the glass and looking down for a second. This felt a bit awkward, but he couldn't keep ignoring his concerns any longer.
"It's kind of uncomfortable, honestly."
"Oh?" Marc swallowed his first sip of wine, and tilted his head in concern, "You're not, you're not talking about breaking up with me, are you?"
He sat forward, getting closer to Cliff.
"No, no don't worry," Cliff shook his head, taking a sip of the wine as well to steady his nerves, "it's just. The way you act. I know it's a part of your shtick, but sometimes it seems like you're really mean to people. Like, that you're harassing them, it makes me uncomfortable."
Marc paused, somewhat taken aback by this assessment, as Cliff looked at him expectedly.
"Uhm, huh," Marc searched for what to say, "I mean, you know it's just fun. Are you talking about my Mode coworkers? They know it's jokes, I don't think it's that serious."
"Really?" Cliff cocked an eyebrow, "Are you sure about that? What about that other assistant there that you're always taking pictures of?"
"Betty? Oh, it's nothing. It was just a few times, we have fun there, if you knew her you'd understand. She's just so ..interesting that it's impossible not to have some banter with her."
"Really?" Cliff repeated, noting that Marc didn't take any of his concerns seriously, "because it looked a lot like harassment. You know, in my life I've experienced this sort of unwanted attention too, and it's not fun from the receiving side. Marc, seriously, I've seen your stalking blog, I need you to stop this and leave that girl alone."
Marc frowned.
"Cliffy, come on, it's really not that serious! You don't have to worry about this," he put his hand on Cliff's shoulder, "come on, let's just relax. Maybe put on one of those movies you've been telling me about-"
"No," Cliff stayed firm, pushing off Marc's hand, "don't change the subject. I really feel uncomfortable with my boyfriend being a bully. And don't sigh and get all annoyed, I want to address this. You haven't even fully stopped the comments about my weight either, you got me a girdle. If that's how you treat me, how do you treat others? I heard you calling that girl fat, and she's not even nearly as heavy as me?"
Marc leaned back with an exasperated sigh.
"Oh, Cliff, where did this come from, since when are you so righteous?"
"Since I'm a decent person?" Cliff was getting frustrated, "Ok, I always knew that you're no saint, but this has been going too far, I'm not going to let it go!"
Cliff stood up, too wound up to stay still.
"Cliff, wait! Okay," Cliff turned back to him, raising his eyebrows, "how about, I'll stop nagging you about that ugly blazer you always want to wear. I just don't think it's flattering, but go ahead, wear it if you like it that much. I'm okay with.. however you want to look."
"What?!" Cliff raised his voice, "Are you even listening to me!? I can't, I can't deal with you!"
He quickly finished his glass and went to take his coat.
"I'm going outside for a walk, I can't be in here with you right now," he scoffed.
"Cliff? No, I'm sorry, I didn't-"
Before he could make any sort of substantial apology or follow him, Cliff was already halfway out the door, slamming it closed as he stormed out, leaving Marc alone in the apartment.
Marc stood there, stunned by what just happened between them. How did this escalate, why did Cliff get so worked up about this?
Marc sighed, walking back to plop down on the couch. It made him sad to fight like this. He never had the best luck with relationships.. but mainly it was his own fault for being dismissive and insensitive. When he thought about it, the relationships he had, he was always the one that had caused it to end. The other guy couldn't stand him anymore or was so hurt by something he did, that he'd end up dumping him.
Marc put his head in his hands. But why was it like this? He knew he wasn't really a good person, so the fact that he was attractive really helped to get anyone to like him, but did he have to be so insufferable that he can't even hold down a romantic relationship for longer than a year? …He really liked Cliff, he didn't want this to end. He even felt that Cliff brought out the best in him and showed him that he can love past physical appearance, which should show Cliff that he's really not that terrible of a fatphobe, right?
He wasn't sure if he could change completely, but he wanted to make it work. He didn't know what it would take, but he had to try.
Cliff was fuming as he stomped down the stairs and out into the cool air of the evening.
What was wrong with him? Could Marc not control himself to such a degree? Cliff was frustrated both with Marc and with himself, for still having such a soft spot for the strange man. It was as if he saw his flaws as quirks, not as red flags to stay away from. Hell, he'd already ignored so many warning signs so far into the relationship.
Rudely blowing off their first date, refusing to go in public with him, hiding him from his friends for his looks, then freaking out and nearly breaking up with him when he spoke to a male friend, once Marc had finally decided that he was okay to 'show off' to the public. And all this weird stuff with harassing his coworkers. What was wrong with himself for still liking Marc despite this?
Cliff mulled over all this. He knew it probably wasn't the best for him, but …it could be that he secretly liked the challenge. Somehow he thought he could fix Marc, and that it could be worth it. Even though he could be cold or cruel to others, he had moments where a human side shone through. And when he wanted to be nice, he could be, there were times when he could be so sweet and cute and hot and, ugh, Cliff loved to be with him, it was complicated.
Yeah, Cliff wanted to fix him, somehow. And Marc having an edge wasn't that bad if it didn't go overboard. Cliff had to be real with himself. He liked brats. But.. they had to be tamed. Maybe there was still hope for them, if he could get Marc to actually take him seriously sometimes. There was.. one thing they could do, he didn't know if Marc would go along with it, but it was worth proposing it at least. Cliff finally concluded, heading back to the apartment.
Just as Marc was shrugging on his coat, he heard the sound of Cliff unlocking the door.
"Oh, hey, I was just leaving. I sat here for a bit, but, I realize you probably don't want to hang out tonight. We can talk tomorrow again."
Marc gave him a bashful smile and was about to slide past, before Cliff stopped him. There was no way he could let him leave without talking this through first. Knowing Marc, it would mean the next weeks would be radio silence and claiming he was 'swamped with work', since Marc was so scared of working through conflicts through open communication like an adult.
"Wait," he put his hand on Marc's shoulder, "you can stay, if you want. I would still like to talk to you about something."
"Oh? Okay. So you're not mad at me anymore?" Marc narrowed his eyes at him, a hopeful intonation to the inquiry.
"No, I still am."
"Ah," Marc nodded, hanging his coat back up again, "okay. I'm ready to listen, real listening this time, I promise!"
"Good," Cliff led them both back to sit on the couch and began, "Here's the thing, I think you're a brat."
"Oh?" Marc raised his eyebrows. He was a brat? Well, maybe, he could see why Cliff might describe him as that, but he didn't know how to react to the frank statement.
"You're annoying, rude, mean, self-centered, emotionally immature, you don't listen and drive me insane sometimes, to the point of wanting to storm out of my own apartment."
Marc grimaced, face heating in embarrassment. He couldn't deny those things, Cliff had every right to be upset with him really.
"I.. know, I'm sorry. I don't know how to make you forgive me, but I wish I could-"
"But I may have an idea," Marc looked at him, reestablishing eye contact, "Do you, do you want to do something about this?"
"Yes!" Marc replied in earnest, "I don't want to screw this up like all my other relationships through being an idiot. I like you too much for that, I even think you bring out the best in me."
"Okay," Cliff looked at Marc's hand resting on his own, "that's sweet, but not enough to convince me that you've learned your lesson."
Marc tilted his head inquisitively.
"I could discipline you, if you're up for it?"
"Discipline me? …How exactly?"
Marc was intrigued now, his heart starting to beat a bit faster. Discipline implied something unpleasant, like punishment. But he wasn't saying yes or no yet, before knowing exactly what this proposal was.
"I'm thinking corporal punishment, spanking specifically."
Marc's eyes widened in surprise. Cliff wanted to spank him? That sounded like something kinky, but judging the tone of the situation, it probably wouldn't be sexy.
"As, as a punishment?"
"Yes, exactly, it wouldn't be fun," Cliff could see the gears in Marc's head turning, trying to wrap his mind around what exactly this meant.
"Would it hurt?"
"Yes."
"..A lot?"
"..Considerably."
"Ah," Marc nodded at the blunt answers. This sounded intimidating, but he really wanted Cliff to forgive him again, and maybe this could be a way of doing it. As he considered this, he was realizing that he was actually leaning toward accepting the preposition. But he was also undoubtedly worried. If Cliff was so no-nonsense about it, how bad exactly was this going to be? Marc shifted in place, gauging his expectations of the proposed punishment.
"Okay," he took a shaky breath, "and if I did accept it, when would we do it? Like, tomorrow? Later this week? Or-"
"I was thinking today, right now, would be best. Just get it over with and we'll have made up by tomorrow. But if not, then I guess there'd be the added disciplinary element of anticipation. Having to go through the day, knowing what's waiting for you and having to wonder how it will go, how much it will hurt, et cetera."
Cliff smirked to himself. He knew he was riling Marc up. At this point he could tell that Marc would go through with it, which delighted him. Of course, he was still mad at him, but he could finally get this frustration out in some way, and at the same time make Marc get some sort of consequences for his actions. This is exactly what they've needed this whole time!
"Okay, okay!" Marc shook his head, "tonight it is then. I accept. …If you think this could help smooth things between us, I trust you."
He gave Cliff a nervous smile, which Cliff returned and then stood up.
"Okay, I'll go get the things then."
"The what? What are you getting?"
Marc stared after him in alarm. So there'd be some sort of instruments involved. Cliff did say it would hurt, but now that it's actually about to happen, Marc's nerves were starting to really take over. His breathing quickened and he had to reach for his bedazzled inhaler for a huff before Cliff got back.
And it didn't take too long for Cliff to reemerge, a large wooden spoon in hand.
"A spoon?" Marc couldn't hide his confusion.
"You'll see."
Marc felt a shiver go down his back at the ominous response. He tensed as Cliff sat back down next to him on the couch. He knew he had agreed to this, but everything seemed to be moving so fast. His heartbeat thumped in his ears and he gulped, feeling how dry his mouth had suddenly become.
"I just need to refill my glass real quick, I'll be back in a second."
He leaned forward for his almost empty wine glass before Cliff's hand on his arm stopped him.
"You don't need to drink for this."
Marc paused, then slowly leaned back after hearing Cliff's pointed words. Of course, the more sober he is, the more engaged and subsequently embarrassed and uncomfortable he'll be with the situation. That was probably the point, he shouldn't try to weasel out of feeling the full impact of what he'd agreed to now.
"Okay," he replied in a small voice, glancing back up at Cliff as if awaiting instruction.
Those big eyes, Cliff thought to himself. It was kind of funny how quickly Marc switched between these two extreme ends of his personality sometimes. The boisterous snarky bastard, and the frightened timid puppy. Well, not that those puppy eyes would help him get out of anything now.
"Are you scared?"
"Kind of," Marc admitted.
"Good," Cliff teased, "Right, undo your belt and pants, let's get this going."
Marc let out a sigh, seemingly resigning himself to his fate. His hands were shaky and uncooperative all of a sudden, but he managed this task, peering at Cliff again.
"Good, now," Cliff reached for Marc's arm, "come over here."
Marc allowed Cliff to pull and guide him over his lap.
His body stretched along the whole length of the couch. He had a quite tall and slender figure, which Cliff easily secured in place by wrapping his arm over his waist.
Marc rested himself on his elbows, blushing harder when Cliff proceeded to yank his pants down to his knees, exposing his pale thighs.
He expected to be slapped with a spoon, but instead it was Cliff's palm that hit him first.
It wasn't very painful, but still startling. Marc only made a small noise, still reeling from the situation he'd gotten himself into.
Cliff knew it was better to warm him up first, so the first dozen swats were of a lighter nature, gradually increasing in force as Marc's skin heated up.
It wasn't comfortable, but some of the tension in Marc's body eased. If spankings just felt like this, a bit of a sharp tingle, then he could easily get through it. Maybe Cliff just wanted to do this as a symbolic thing.
But these thoughts would slowly dissipate and turn into alarm as Cliff picked up his speed.
Now that the brat in question was just starting to feel the heat, Cliff could show him what he's really in for.
Cliff held on tighter and let his hand fall heavy on the barely protected cheeks of his boyfriend.
As the nature of the slaps changed, suddenly smarting him harshly, Marc took a sharp gasp of surprise, as he realized that what he was in for could actually hurt in a considerable way.
Marc, who didn't have a lot of pain tolerance or self-composure in moments of injury, pressed his face into a pillow, doing his best to bear it through a well-deserved, hard and thorough hand spanking.
"Ah!" Marc shifted, fighting the urge to leap right up and rub his hands over his now smarting sit spots, "that's a bit h-hard!"
"It's far from hard enough, this is just the warmup."
Marc bit his lip. Yes, he had agreed to take the punishment from Cliff, but now that Cliff had fully adapted this mindspace, Marc was getting a bit more nervous. This wasn't the soft-spoken, sweet, cuddly guy he's been spending time with over these months, this was a stern, harsh, disappointed, disciplinarian.
This disciplinarian won't offer a hug when a day hasn't gone in Marc's favor. He won't just laugh, before playfully pushing Marc after another one of his less politically correct observations about Cliff's weight, clothes or hair.
The disciplinarian will take him right over his knee and wail away, before Marc would eventually raise the white flag and break down in remorse of his wrongdoings. (Which both of them were suddenly recalling a lot of.)
But finally, Cliff knew it was time to introduce the spoon. A very useful tool in achieving the feeling of shame and regret in anyone who comes under its fire.
Marc froze when the spoon tapped ominously against his right cheek.
The following THWACK made his breath catch in his throat. The first half of the spanking was nothing in comparison to this. What had he gotten himself into?
Now all the talk of punishment made so much sense, there was nothing else this could be interpreted as. This was red, hot pain and all he wanted was to get away.
When Marc started whimpering louder and kicking his legs, Cliff knew he was on the right track. The point was to cause discomfort, so if Marc was starting to feel the heat, it was going to plan.
And it was. Marc now fully understood how effective a spoon could be. Each time it laid into him he was met with a biting, searing sensation that made him keen. Owww, yes it was a punishment, but did it have to be so bad?
"Cliff! Augh! Please, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"
"Oh, you are?"
"Yes!"
"I see."
'I see'? What the fuck does that mean?! Marc thought, shocked and hurt at Cliff's nonchalant behavior, talking casually as if he wasn't in the middle of flaying the skin off his ass with a kitchen appliance. Breath heaving and teeth clenched, Marc clutched onto his support pillow for dear life.
He wanted to yell that this wasn't fair, that Cliff was being too mean, but he had agreed to this and… he probably did kind of deserve it. He'd never had that strong of a conscience, well barely any at all, but still he was aware that the things he did were wrong, he just didn't care or think about it. …Not until someone like Cliff, someone nice and sweet and loveable and unbelievably patient like Cliff pointed it out. But to have it pointed out like this. Through a barrage of blistering fire getting laid into his backside.
Tears were starting to bite the corners of his eyes, as embarrassing as it felt, but there wasn't anything else he could do, blinking and letting them flow. The shame was too much to take, both that of being so pathetic to go into hysterics over this juvenile punishment, but mainly the shame of Cliff's disappointment. He hated to admit it, but somehow being spanked really helped him come to the full realization of that, of just how bad he felt about hurting someone else's feelings. There's something about a person repeatedly cracking a spoon on your already battered, blazing backside, that makes you feel just how upset they are with you.
"Oh- oh- owww-"
Marc was just making sounds, not even attempting to haggle with promises of good behavior to make Cliff stop. Hopefully that was the plan for the future, but even Marc knew that promising to be nice in the middle of something like this would probably be seen as some sort of insolence, even he wouldn't believe himself.
Marc's whimpering almost made Cliff soften up a bit, before he reminded himself that this was Marc who he was dealing with, the guy without a shred of compassion or care about how his actions affected others. He had to do himself and society a favor by carrying this out, even if his pretty boyfriend cried so pitifully, in fact that was the goal, so he could move on to the final part.
"Okay, Marc," he stilled his hand, giving Marc a brief reprieve of the swats, "are you with me?"
Marc answered with a loud sniffle, wiping his face against the pillow.
"Yes..," came a miserable little voice, bringing a brief amused smile to Cliff's lips at the preciousness of it all.
"Okay, then I want to make sure you're aware of what's happening here."
As if he had the choice not to, Marc thought.
"We're going to finish soon, but first, I want you to tell me what's happening here."
"Y- you are p-punishing me for-," Marc fought to get the words out, somehow having to also say it took another pang to his dignity, how was that even still possible?
"-for, for being horrible to you, -and others."
Marc squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in the pillow after saying the words. Why did that just make his embarrassment all that hotter? It's like his ears were steaming at that point.
"Yes, true, good. You got that part right," Cliff tapped the spoon on the upper part of one of Marc's still mostly untouched thighs, "so now we're making sure that lesson sticks."
Marc did not like that feeling, but there was no time to react as the spoon already cracked down anew.
That was a sting like no other, and landed right on naked skin as his boxers didn't reach that far. Marc was surprised that Cliff even let him have underwear on, but wasn't about to fight with the decision. Though the thigh slaps were so devastating, that Marc just let a new flood of tears burst right out, body shaking along with his sobs.
This devilish spoon turned out to be the most deadly weapon in this apartment. Marc honestly wasn't sure he'd ever be able to be near a spoon again after this trauma. Reducing him to
nothing but a sniveling, trembling, aching mess. He'd never been this sore or sorry in his life.
Seeing as Marc had stopped any signs of fighting or flailing, Cliff believed he'd reached the final stage of the bottom-tanning intervention.
So, putting the last bit of potent impact behind the finishing blows, Cliff landed three pointed whacks to each of his sit spots, before withdrawing the spoon.
There was a relatively silent moment of Cliff rubbing circles into Marc's back, until the other man finally realized that the punishment was over. Cliff's hand was warm and comforting, but his butt was burning so bad most of his senses were overclouded by this sensation.
But at last he had to get up. Putting his hands in front of him, Marc managed to push himself upright, still sniffling and wiping at his face with whatever. It was a rare moment where he didn't care or think about what he looked like. His hair was a sweaty mess, and his face was red and glistening with tears and snot, even the fact of getting his sleeve dirty while wiping these fluids away didn't cross his mind.
"Oh, baby," Cliff reached to stroke his hand through Marc's hair. He was so adorable like this, it was unbelievable that Marc could get any prettier, but there he was, looking right at it. The contrite, chastised look suited him so well, but slightly horny thoughts aside, the main thing was that the lesson imparted.
"So you," Marc leaned into the touch, looking up to meet Cliff's gaze, "you're not mad at me anymore?"
"No," Cliff smiled, shaking his head, "and you, you understand what you did wrong?"
Marc nodded, somehow wanting to cry again, so he quickly went to drape himself around Cliff's neck. Cliff hugged him back and Marc melted into his warmth. He was so cuddly, how he loved these hugs, and how he didn't know if he could ever live without them. He loved Cliff and wanted him in his life, maybe even if it meant getting forcefully set on the right path with the help of a spoon to his ass sometimes.
But, as good as reconciliation with Cliff felt, the blazing agony in his butt wasn't going away.
"Ughhhhhhh," after another moment of embracing, Marc finally pulled back, rubbing his tender backside with a whine, "owwwww, how long is this going to hurt for?"
The pout he made was incredible. Cliff couldn't help chuckling as the brat in Marc made itself known even right after getting a good thrashing.
"For a bit, more than a bit I'd guess."
Marc threw his head back, huffing.
"That's not- ughhh- …But, wait, how will I sit at my desk?"
"Like always, just with the added reminder to behave being right there with you."
Marc sat there for a second, processing this thought.
"But- but- what if someone notices that I'm acting weird?"
"Sweetie, you always act weird. But your regular jumpiness aside, just practice sitting still. That couldn't hurt you either."
Marc's scandalized grimaces didn't continue to not be funny, Cliff reached to stroke his back again.
"Come on now, don't be so sad. You'll be fine, no one has ever died from a sore bottom. Trust me, it's good for you."
Marc gave him a look.
"Actually, the standard way to treat a brat would be to make you stand in a corner to reflect on today's events, or even better, sit down to write some lines. With a mouth like yours a mouthsoaping could be easily earned as well, if any of that is what you'd prefer?"
The way Marc's eyes widened comically made Cliff burst into another laugh, before comforting the distressed man again.
"Come on, I'm just messing with you. Take care of those pants and let's go have that wine," Marc rolled his eyes and stood up, taking a moment to consider whether he wanted to force the skin tight pants back over his butt, before sighing and kicking them off instead, "alright, a pantsless sleepover works for me too."
"Oh, I bet it does," Marc teased him back, very excited to dig into the wine and let the evening take different directions at last.
"But wait," Cliff pointed a finger at him, "those threats could be real another time. Don't think you're off the hook forever now."
Marc was not happy about that prospect, but nodded. He'll really have to change his ways, or get really really good at not letting Cliff catch him in any wrongdoings. He'll figure it out, but, whether he was getting hugs or spankings, Marc was just glad Cliff was staying by his side, that was enough to make him behave. At least until the effects of the spanking wore off.