"You're gonna get yourself killed, man," Cade said, shaking his head at Chris.
Chris just shrugged. "It's part of the job, isn't it?"
Cade looked at him with a mix of exasperation and concern. "Yeah, but so is not running into a hailstorm of bullets without a plan."
Chris grinned, slapping Cade on the back. "That's why you're the brains and I'm the brawn."
Cade rolled his eyes. "And that's why Pride's gonna have your ass in a vice if you pull another stunt like that."
Chris's cheeks flushed red as he remembered his last encounter with their no-nonsense boss, Captain Pride. The man had a way of making you feel about two inches tall with just one look, and a firm hand that didn't hesitate to lay down the law—or a spanking—when the situation called for it.
Cade, ever the nurturer, decided to send Chris off to work with a packed lunch that morning. He figured a good meal might bolster the reckless detective's spirits, and maybe, just maybe, encourage him to think before he leaped. Carefully, he packed a turkey sandwich on thick slices of whole wheat bread with crispy bacon, mayo, and a hint of mustard—Chris's favorite. He added a side of potato chips, a couple of Oreos for dessert, and a thermos filled with steaming black coffee. It was the least he could do, given the lecture he knew Chris was likely to receive when he got to the precinct.
As Chris grabbed his lunch, Cade couldn't resist a parting shot. "Eat your veggies, and maybe you'll think clearer," he called out with a smirk.
Chris just flipped him off good-naturedly before sliding into his car, the engine roaring to life. He took a deep breath, the scent of coffee and bacon wafting from the lunch box in the passenger seat. It was going to be a long day, he could feel it.
And it was. The moment he strutted into the precinct, Pride's piercing gaze found him. The man's stern face was etched with a furrowed brow, a clear indication that he hadn't forgotten their earlier conversation. The room seemed to hush as the captain beckoned him over with a crooked finger. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.
"My office, now, Detective," Pride's voice was a low rumble that seemed to echo down the corridor.
Chris's stomach clenched, but he didn't dare argue. He followed his boss with a sense of dread that grew heavier with each step. The office door swung open with a creak, revealing the sparse room filled with the scent of leather and polished wood. Pride was already seated at his desk, a stern look etched into his features as he gestured to the sturdy wooden chair in the center of the room.
"You know why you're here, Detective," Pride said, his voice a mix of disappointment and authority.
Chris gulped, his heart racing. "Yeah," he mumbled, his eyes darting to the chair and then back to Pride's face, trying to gauge what was coming next.
"Good," Pride said, his tone unyielding. "Because we're going to finish what we started yesterday. Bend over the table."
Chris's eyes widened, but he knew better than to argue. He took a deep breath and did as he was told, his heart hammering in his chest. The cool leather of the chair cushion was a stark contrast to the warmth of his face as he bent over, his hands gripping the far edge of the desk. The scent of the polished wood filled his nose as he braced himself, his mind racing with a mix of fear and anticipation.
Pride stood up from his chair, the leather squeaking as he rounded the desk. He paused for a moment, his hand lingering in the air before landing firmly on Chris's backside. The sound of the smack echoed through the room, a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play. Chris's cheeks burned with the impact, his body tensing as he bit back a gasp. The captain's hand was strong and unyielding, each spank a clear message of his disapproval.
The smacks grew in intensity, Pride's palm coming down in a steady rhythm that left no doubt of his displeasure. The sting grew with each hit, radiating through Chris's body until he could feel it in his toes. The scent of fear and adrenaline filled the room, mixing with the faint aroma of coffee from his lunch box. He clenched his fists tighter, his knuckles whitening against the desk. He knew he had it coming; Cade's words played in his mind like a broken record.
Finally, the spanking ceased, and Pride's hand rested heavily on his back, his breathing labored. "I hope that'll teach you a lesson, boy," he said gruffly.
Chris nodded, his eyes watering. "Yes, sir," he managed to say, his voice quivering.
Pride released him with a firm pat on the back. "Now, let's get to work," he said, his tone softer than before.
Chris straightened up slowly, wincing at the sting that accompanied every movement. His cheeks were flaming, but he knew better than to complain. He reached back to rub the sore spot, his eyes meeting Pride's in silent understanding.
"Alright, let's move out," Pride said, his voice still gruff but with a hint of compassion. "We've got a case to crack."
Chris nodded, his eyes still watery and his cheeks red, as he followed Pride to the precinct's garage. The cool breeze from the open garage door was a welcome relief from the stuffy office. The scent of gasoline and oil mixed with the lingering aroma of coffee as they approached the vehicle they'd be taking to the crime scene—a sturdy, black four-wheeled monster of a truck that looked like it had seen better days.
Pride opened the passenger side door, and Chris paused for a moment before climbing in. He knew that sitting down was going to be a challenge, his bottom still stinging from the recent punishment. He gritted his teeth and managed to get in without too much of a wince, his eyes never leaving Pride's stern gaze. The captain said nothing, but the air between them was thick with the unspoken understanding of what had just transpired.
As they pulled out of the precinct and into the bustling streets, Chris couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment. He was a grown man, a seasoned detective, and here he was with a sore bottom like a naughty schoolboy. The engine roared to life, and the smell of gasoline and leather filled the cabin as they sped off towards the crime scene.
When they arrived, the area was a chaotic symphony of flashing lights and chattering officers. Pride parked the truck with a jolt that sent a fresh wave of pain through Chris's already tender backside. He winced as he climbed out, trying to avoid the pain that seemed to radiate with every movement.
Loretta, the sharp-tongued medical examiner, was waiting for them, her arms crossed over her chest as she tapped a foot impatiently. Her eyes raked over Chris, taking in the sight of his reddened cheeks and slightly hunched posture.
"You spanked him again?" she scoffed, raising an eyebrow at Pride. "Couldn't wait until after the case, huh?"
Pride's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond. Instead, he turned to Chris. "You okay to handle this?"
Chris nodded, his voice a bit shaky. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. The truth was, sitting on the hard plastic seat of the truck was torture, every bump and jolt sending a fresh jolt of pain through his bruised backside. He gripped the handle above the door, his knuckles turning white.
The crime scene was a grisly mess, a stark contrast to the banter-filled ride over. A young woman lay on the cold, concrete floor of an abandoned warehouse, her lifeless eyes staring into nothingness. The metallic scent of blood was overpowering, mixing with the musty odor of the disused building.
Loretta took charge, her sarcasm giving way to the grim focus of her job. She began her preliminary examination, her gloved hands moving deftly over the victim's body, searching for clues that would give them a lead. Chris and Pride hovered nearby, exchanging glances filled with unspoken concern for the woman and determination to catch the monster responsible.
As they worked, Loretta couldn't help but notice the way Chris winced with every step he took. She knew all too well the consequences of Pride's "disciplinary actions," having walked in on a few of their "sessions" in the past. With a smirk, she decided to lighten the mood—or at least offer a little relief.
"You know what, Chris?" she said, her voice cutting through the tension. "Why don't you sit down before you pass out?"
Chris looked at her gratefully, his legs feeling like jelly. He knew he needed a break but didn't want to admit it. He nodded and made his way to the truck, his steps careful and measured.
Pride followed him, his expression unreadable. He opened the back of the truck and pulled out a pillow that he kept for such occasions. "Sit," he ordered, pointing to the seat.
Chris did as he was told, his eyes never leaving Pride's face. He could feel the eyes of the other officers on him, but he ignored them as he gingerly lowered himself onto the cushion. The softness was a stark contrast to the firmness of the seat, and he couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief. The pain lessened, but it was still a constant, throbbing presence that he couldn't ignore.
Pride slammed the truck's door shut. "Back to work, everyone!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the warehouse. The officers and technicians snapped to attention, the chatter dying down immediately. The sound of footsteps and rustling of equipment filled the space as everyone resumed their duties.
Chris had managed to doze off in the passenger seat, his head lolling to the side. His breathing was shallow and uneven, a testament to the pain he was trying to ignore. Pride observed him for a moment, his expression unreadable. He knew the spanking had been harsh, but it was what Chris needed to understand the gravity of his recklessness. He'd seen it before—the cocky detective charging in without a second thought for his own safety. But he also knew that underneath that bravado was a man who took his job seriously and was haunted by his mistakes.
The sound of the truck's engine was a soothing lullaby, and the steady vibrations of the vehicle lulled Chris into a fitful sleep. The aroma of the coffee from his lunch box had long since faded, replaced by the stale scent of the old fabric and the faint tang of his fear from earlier. The pain in his backside was a constant throb, a stark reminder of his boss's displeasure.
As he slept, the scene outside the truck's windows was a blur of streetlights and passing cars. His dreams were plagued by images of bullets flying and Pride's stern face, his hand raised in warning. Each jolt and bump from the road brought him closer to reality, but he clung to the oblivion of slumber, hoping to escape the impending lecture that was sure to come once they arrived at the precinct.
The truck finally came to a stop, and Chris's eyes snapped open. He groaned as he sat up, his hand automatically reaching back to rub his sore bottom. The pain was still there, a stubborn reminder of his earlier punishment. He blinked sleep from his eyes and looked around, surprised to find himself in Pride's office. The chair was still pushed out slightly, the lunch box sitting untouched on the desk.
Pride looked up from the paperwork he was going through, his eyes meeting Chris's in the mirror of the one-way glass. "Rise and shine, Detective," he said, his voice devoid of its usual gruffness.
Chris sat up with a start, his hand shooting back to rub his sore bottom. "What the...how did I end up here?" he mumbled, his eyes still groggy with sleep.
Pride looked at him over the rim of his glasses, his expression a mix of amusement and exasperation. "You fell asleep in the truck," he said, not bothering to hide the smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Thought it best to let you rest here until you're ready to face the music."
Chris's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he knew better than to argue. He slowly climbed out of the chair, his movements stiff and pained. The cushion had provided some relief, but now the full weight of his punishment was making itself known again.
"Thanks," he mumbled, his voice still thick with sleep.