Someone wrote in [personal profile] cabinpres_fic 2012-05-08 06:41 pm (UTC)

Fill: On Tender Mercies (1/2) (Spanking, D/s)

Douglas moaned lazily, leaning back in his chair to stare at the ceiling as pleasure swelled through him. He draped one hand idly over the upholstered seat arm while the other cupped the back of the head bobbing softly over his lap, fingers twining in the smooth, auburn curls. On the edge of his vision he caught the occasional glimpse of the naked body kneeling between his thighs and Douglas hummed in appreciation, wet lips sliding devotedly up the straining warmth of his cock. Martin's eyes would be heavy-lidded and dark as he paused at the tip, glancing up at Douglas as he swirled his tongue over the engorged crown. Douglas's grip tightened controllingly in reply, pushing Martin back down as Douglas's hips rose to deepen the slick thrust of cock pushing into Martin's mouth. Martin groaned deeply, hands curling around Douglas's trouser-covered calves, reflexively trying to swallow as Douglas held him pinned.

"That's it," Douglas breathed roughly. "All the way down..."

He could feel release pooling low and tight in the pit of his stomach, hips rocking slightly with the urge to thrust. The hand in Martin's hair curled reflexively into a tight fist, the push and drag forcing Martin's head up and down to set a deep, steady pace as he fucked into the warm, sucking wetness of that obedient mouth. Douglas growled in satisfaction, letting Martin linger at the tip just long enough to put his nimble tongue to use before dragging him forward sharply and forcing the full length of his cock right to the back of Martin's unresisting throat. Martin choked and spasmed, the fluttering tightness an exquisite bonus, and Douglas came quickly with a hard grunt, fingers knotted in his boy's curls as he jetted thick, bitter spunk straight down Martin's gullet.

The feel of him struggling to swallow it down was glorious, the frantic constriction of Martin's throat too tempting to abandon straight away and Douglas kept his grip purposefully firm, holding Martin pinned for a long, breathless moment until Martin's struggles had teased the last flutter of sweet aftershocks from Douglas's still mostly-hard cock. The instant Douglas's grip finally relaxed Martin pulled back with a sharp gasp for breath and Douglas looked down at him hotly, Martin's cheeks flushed scarlet as he panted and shivered at Douglas's feet.

Martin's lips, still parted, were red and swollen. The tip of Douglas's cock had dragged across the bottom one just heavy enough to have left a thin, lingering smear of cum on the plump, kiss-bruised flesh and Douglas almost ached to bend down and lick it off. Martin's eyes were glazed and hungry, his throat bobbing as he gulped down the lingering tang of Douglas's release.

Languorous and well-sated, Douglas idly petted Martin's head, warm palm eventually reaching down to cup Martin's cheek as he wiped away the wet smear of ejaculate with the tip of his thumb.

"Your mouth is sinfully distracting," Douglas murmured. "Though I can still tell you're angling for something. What exactly were you hoping for in return?"

Martin squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip, naked body arching into the contact, hungry with un-spent arousal. His cock was hard and pink, straining straight up between his parted knees as if begging for attention.

"Mm, you know already," Martin moaned.

"I like to hear you say it," Douglas prompted and Martin whined in frustration.

"Please?" Martin huffed. "You said you'd spank me, Douglas. It's not fair to make me wait. You know you promised..."

A nudge of his fingers had Martin dipping his head to nuzzle down obediently against Douglas's lap once more, mouthing gently at the soft warmth of his spent cock. Douglas inhaled sharply, a frisson of arousal searing through him even as his sated flesh twitched feebly in response. Martin flicked out his tongue, lapping at the sensitive shaft as he glanced up through demurely lowered lashes.

"I'll make it worth your while," Martin promised.

"I think you already did," Douglas gasped.

Martin grinned, anticipation and glee warring for dominance on his face.

"I'll let you fuck me after you paddle me?" Martin purred. "I know you like how tight it makes me. And if you whip my cleft again it'll make me so sore that every time I sit down for days the only thing I'll be able to think about is you."

Douglas clenched his teeth, cradling Martin's jaw in the palm of one strong hand, pushing the boy's head back enough to be able to tuck himself back into his trousers with the other.

Martin pouted sweetly, nipping at Douglas's thumb.

If you had asked Douglas before they got together, what his hypothetical future sex life with Martin would have been like, he'd have laid good money on his answer being "Nice."

Martin, he'd thought, would like "Nice" things. He'd like cuddles and gentle, Sunday-morning blow-jobs. He'd probably shy away from anal and, if Douglas did ever convince him to try being the recipient, it would only be on pre-arranged evenings. It would happen only where he could be sure they wouldn't have to fly the next day, because Martin would be scared of the potential discomfort and humiliation of sitting on the flight deck for hours, trying not to fidget from the soreness in his bottom just in case someone guessed what they'd been doing.

The one thing Douglas is fairly sure he never would have imagined is that Martin - his sweet, silly, naive little Captain - would actually be nothing like that at all.

Oh, he enjoys the cuddles and lazy weekend blow-jobs and faintly sloppy coffee-flavoured kisses over breakfast in bed. Of course he does. But Douglas would have been a liar if he'd said that it was the entire limit of Martin's interest. A very big liar indeed.

If he was honest, it was almost as if all that repression Martin displayed at work was purely there as a counterbalance to the uninhibited, wanton creature he seemed to be in the bedroom.

Martin veered somewhat more towards the submissive, which in retrospect seemed like no real surprise (positions of authority had never fitted him terribly well,) and he very definitely preferred bottoming. Which was all rather wonderful because Douglas very definitely didn't. Of course, with Douglas having been so uncharacteristically wrong about so many things in that regard, it should not have come as a surprise that he had also been mistaken about just how much Martin loved being made to squirm.

It was fortunate of course that, aside from his colossal failure to predict exactly how filthy Martin could be when aroused, Douglas had yet to find anything else at which he wasn't naturally gifted. He would admit some personal surprise that this included the wielding of both paddle and rattan cane, but Martin certainly didn't seem to have any complaints. It was, after all, his backside that received the majority of Douglas's expertise. Douglas didn't doubt for a minute that his Captain would not have taken to moaning and thrusting his bottom out for more if he wasn't quite enthusiastically set on enjoying it.

Douglas came back to himself as Martin nuzzled at the inside of his thigh impatiently, a hungry blue-grey eye sliding open to peek pleadingly at Douglas's face. Douglas dawdled only for a moment, trying and probably failing to look inscrutable before eventually being forced to relent.

"I can see you haven't left me much of a choice," Douglas murmured. "Go to the bedroom, then. I want you over the bed, face down, feet on the floor. Keep your legs spread and wait for me."

Martin bit his lip and gave a full-body shudder, eyelids fluttering in anticipation as he got unsteadily to his feet, his bare cock exposed and bobbing awkwardly as he walked. Douglas watched him go, head tilted slightly in appreciation of the pale, delicate lusciousness of him as Martin disappeared down the hall.

It would be fun catering to Martin's whims this evening, he thought. Martin and his fondness for the paddle. In part because he enjoyed wielding it and in part because he always found it incredibly difficult to refuse Martin anything when he begged for it so prettily. Especially while knelt demurely between Douglas's thighs. Douglas was more than aware he was too easily swayed by the plush warmth of Martin's eminently fuckable mouth, and some day he knew he should really whip out the cane instead of Martin's favourite paddle just as a long-overdue chastisement for such overt manipulation, but most of the time he didn't quite have the heart. Not when doing so denied himself the sound of the additively low, aching groans Martin made whenever he was rewarded with the heavier, broader strike of flattened leather and wood.

Douglas dawdled for a few moments, still sprawled lazily in his armchair. Post-orgasmic warmth had lingered in his joints, rendering them rubbery and loose and he smiled contentedly as he finally forced himself to his feet.

The boy would be bent over and waiting for him by now, Douglas thought. He'd have his feet spread on the bedroom carpet, slim body folded at the waist, thighs pressed against the side of the bed as his top half sprawled face-down over the duvet. He'd look decadent and wanton, bare arse presented and offered up to Douglas's whims even as those long, agile fingers tangled expectantly in the cotton sheets.

He wasn't wrong. The image presented to him as he walked in the door was one he knew all too well. The lush spread of Martin's vulnerable form was seared into Douglas's memory like the echo of looking too hard at the sun.

Douglas could see the shadow of tightly-drawn testicles between Martin's spread thighs. The boy's cock, however, had been calculatingly trapped between Martin's stomach and the edge of the mattress and Douglas aimed a sharp slap of his palm roughly against the top of Martin's left buttock.

The sting made Martin jerk, breath leaving his body as his erection rubbed teasingly against the softness of the duvet. Douglas tutted disapprovingly.

"You know the rules. Move back, Martin," Douglas ordered sternly. "I've told you before you're not allowed to rub yourself off. If you leak all over my new sheets I will make you lick them clean before I let you come."

Martin hitched and shivered at the threat but obediently shuffled backwards a few inches, his hips canted away from the side of the bed just enough to let his cock hang heavy and unsupported, distanced from any inadvertent stimulation.

"Better," Douglas murmured. The paddle was already laid out on the bedside table and Douglas raised an eyebrow as he picked it up. From the corner of his eye he saw Martin wiggle slightly in expectation.

Douglas hefted the flat implement against his palm for a moment, circling behind Martin's displayed body before swinging his arm down to land a firm whack against Martin's arse. Martin gasped, flinching at the heavy, unforgiving sting even as he arched wantonly towards it.

"Be still now," Douglas says. "I shan't make you count. We go until I decide otherwise. You've been a good boy which is why you got to request the paddle, but if you wiggle too much I will finish you with the cane instead. Is that understood?"

Martin nodded, eyes squeezed shut as he buried his face into the duvet. His fingers curled and flexed in anticipation, like a cat kneading a blanket, his body pale and arched and so very inviting that Douglas had neither the will nor the inclination to resist.

He let the seconds of silence stretch out, letting anticipation build, eye on the clock until almost a full minute had passed before he finally landed the first real blow against Martin's buttocks. The sound was gratifying, a hard crack and a breathless moan, lewd enough to fire his enthusiasm all by itself. Douglas let himself enjoy the rhythm of it as he measured the passing seconds into sharp, bruising increments, the steady slap of each impact striking like a metronome into Martin's buttocks.

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