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Any hope Zack had of retreating to his bedroom for a quiet, relaxing night—maybe even taking a hot shower then putting a movie on—faded the instant his roommate turned the keys in their apartment door and said very calmly, “Corner.”
Zack stopped midstep over the threshold, aiming an incredulous look at Darius. “What?”
Darius’s deep black-brown eyes, several inches higher up than Zack’s as the man was built like a basketball player, were neither amused nor wavering. “You heard me, Zachary.”
“That’s—ow!” Zack yelped on the hard swat Darius dealt to his bottom that ushered him inside whether he wanted to or not, and blushing, Zack shuffled through the door, his scowl hot enough to melt chocolate, his hand trailing back to the rub the stinging spot on his bottom. Darius and his big huge paw really covered a lot of surface area, which wasn't fair.
Not for the first time in his life, Zack had to wonder just how he had gotten so “lucky” to find such a Toppy roommate when he moved downtown two years ago, not only just willing to handle all of the behavior Zack threw his way, but happy to? It wasn’t fair.
Nevermind they both agreed on it, negotiated it, blah blah blah, whatever. It still was absolute bullshit how Darius never seemed to let anything go, being a solid anchor in Zack’s life in the way no one ever had been before, and it was as infuriating as it was deeply comforting, and the whole thing was an awful trick of the universe.
Stupid Darius.
Stupid Zack and his need for stupid discipline in his life.
Stupid Darius for being perfect at providing that.
Stupid Darius for being the best friend and brother Zack had ever known.
Stupid Darius who would take his elbow and drag him into the bathroom to wash his mouth out if he could hear how many times Zack called him and himself stupid.
Ugh.
Stupid Darius crossing his arms over his chest and looking so pointedly at Zack that it sent shivers down his spine and prickles across his ass.
“It’s not my fault!” Zack blurted. “I was running late, and I didn’t mean to—” He paused, expecting Darius to interrupt him again, but the man didn’t say a word; he just raised one of his eyebrows. Pointedly. How he could only raise just one was just another reason why he was the worst. Zack had tried practicing that in front of his mirror for two years now—ever since he and Darius became roommates—and could never get it down, but Darius made it look so effortless. That raised eyebrow coupled with that Look—a voice in the back of Zack’s mind was screaming at him to please just do what he was told, but…
Well.
It wasn’t fair!
“It’s not like it’s a big deal!” He stomped his foot to emphasize his point. “It was one time and nothing happened—what are you doing?” Zack asked nervously, watching as Darius calmly walked over to the kitchen, plucked the wooden spoon from the utensil holder on the counter, and turned to level it at him. Zack’s eyes widened and he stepped back. “Dar?”
“You can either put your nose in that corner—” Darius used the spoon to indicate where he meant, which was both incredibly rude and extremely effective, as Zack’s backside had no trouble remembering just how earnestly Darius could apply that wooden spoon to make his point— “or you can keep on goin’, and we’ll see if the spoon will change your mind.”
“We cook with that!” he protested, albeit half-heartedly. That fact had never stopped Darius before.
Darius shrugged. “Spoon it is.”
“No!” Zack scrambled back into the living room, one hand out towards Darius who was casually advancing on him with the spoon, as if he wasn’t holding an instrument of total destruction in his right hand. “I’m going, I’ll go!”
Darius didn’t pause, even as Zack reached the corner. Zack filed himself into it the wrong way, keeping his back to the wall, his hand outstretched and a look of appeal on his face, more than confident that if he turned around like he was supposed to with Darius walking towards him like that that he’d be feeling the spoon against his ass anyway—even though he was obeying now.
“I’m in the corner,” he protested.
Darius’s expression was dubious.
“I don’t need the spoon!”
“You need a spanking, and you’re gonna get one,” Darius promised calmly, taking Zack by his elbow to turn him around, willing or not—and damn it, Zack followed that grip on his elbow and turned, but not without stomping his feet and throwing his free hand behind him to protect his bottom.
A sharp snap of the round head of that spoon met his left sitspot, and he jerked at the sheer sting it ignited. Even over jeans, the damn thing had bite to it. “Dar! Ow!”
Darius ignored him, swatting him again and continuing to speak as if Zack hadn’t said anything at all, “Might even give you two if you keep it up. Move. Your. Hand.”
Three sharp swats in punctuation with his words, all applied to the same sitspot, had Zack arching up onto his toes, leaning further into the corner with his hand still clutched protectively over what he could reach of his one cheek. “Daaar!”
“M’not gonna say it again.”
Zack whined. Darius was the absolute worst. “Okaaay, just—please no more?”
His plea fell on deaf ears, if the sharp swats to his now uncovered cheek was any indication. Zack groaned through them, wiggling the target out of range as best he could in his position, but of course Darius’s unerring aim was hard to evade. “Dar, ow! Ow! It hurts!”
Darius didn’t reply, but the spoon landed half a dozen more times, dancing all over Zack’s bottom and igniting an uncomfortable sting to keep him company in the corner. Zack breathed a sigh of relief when the spoon stopped falling, and he could feel Darius shift behind him, but the relief was short-lived as Darius big paw landed across the seat of his jeans with a resounding smack, harder and more powerful than the spoon.
“Ow!”
Zack turned his head and shot Darius a wounded look.
Darius’s expression was not sympathetic. He nodded to the corner, silently ordering Zack to put his nose where it belonged. “Behave.”
Zack huffed, but he turned his head obediently. Darius tapped his bottom with the spoon but stepped away, leaving Zack to his stupid corner.
What was the point of cornertime anyway? To “reflect”?
Bull.
Tops just liked sending brats to corners to torture them. That was the real, honest truth, and Darius wouldn’t ever admit it, but Zack knew he was right.
Stupid Darius.
Stupid corner.
Stupid keys.
That was the whole problem, his keys—he’d lost them. Again. They were somewhere in the apartment, he was pretty sure of that, but when he’d looked for them this morning before he left the house, he couldn’t find them anywhere. Not in his bedroom, not in his bathroom, not in the closet or the washer and dryer by the front door—they were just plain missing. He didn’t have the time to search for them; he had already woken up later than usual, having snoozed his morning alarm a few times too many, and he needed to get a move on if he didn’t want to be late to work.
So he left the door unlocked behind him. Their apartment was only a deadbolt, so it couldn’t be locked from outside without keys. Whatever. It would be fine. Of all the places to rob, no one would bother with their place, right? There were other apartments worth robbing; it wouldn't happen to them.
It would all work out, and Darius wouldn’t have to be any the wiser about the fact Zack had lost his keys, again, and left the house empty without the door locked.
Problem was, Zack forgot that Darius was only working a half day because he had a doctor’s appointment—a little fact that was written on the magnet whiteboard hanging on their fridge, and something he’d been reminded about no few times as Darius planned to stop by the grocery store afterwards, and Zack was supposed to make him a list if he thought of anything they wanted or needed, but Zack had forgotten all about it. He hardly ever remembered his own appointments, and he was useless at remembering Darius’s.
So when his phone rang at about 1pm, Zack was confused, and not a little concerned. Darius rarely called him—a phone call meant something urgent, something that couldn’t wait for a text.
“Hello?” he answered worriedly.
“Zachary.”
Zack’s stomach curdled at his roommate’s tone, his mind racing faster than NASCAR. That was Darius’s ‘you’re in trouble’ tone, but there was no way. He couldn’t know. The only way he’d have found out was if—
The realization washed over him like being drenched in ice water. Involuntarily, Zack found himself muttering, “Shit.”
“You really want to add cussing to your tab?”
“No,” Zack said quickly, getting up from his desk to scramble to the nearest stairwell where he could have some semblance of privacy. Darius did not appreciate the odd cuss word, and he was very clear about it; he had scrubbed foul language from Zack’s tongue before, and he’d do it again. “Sorry. I—um. Uh. You’re home early?” he attempted, wincing at the sound of his own weak voice.
“Did you leave our front door unlocked?”
Straight for the jugular. Zack swallowed, racking his brain for some way to spin it that wouldn’t immediately incriminate him, but nothing sprang to mind, and he could feel the pressure of Darius waiting for him to answer on the other end of the quiet line. The longer Zack waited, the more time it gave Darius to think of horrifying punishments for stalling.
Shit.
Zack kicked his foot against the bottom step. He was screwed. The only option was to take a deep breath and confess, but it wasn’t at all easy to make himself do. Heart pounding in his ears, he mumbled, “... Ilostmykeys.”
“You what?”
Squirming, Zack raised his gaze to the ceiling and tried to summon his courage. “I… I lost my keys.”
“Zachary…”
“I know they’re somewhere in the apartment,” he hurriedly explained, hating how ominous his name sounded in that tone, “but I couldn’t find them and I had to leave; I was going to be late!”
“We’ll talk about this tonight,” Darius said firmly. The proclamation was as heavy and final as the fall of the guillotine blade, and though Zack opened his mouth to protest, he found no words coming out. Instead, his stomach flipped, and Zack felt himself growing smaller by the second.
“But…” he mumbled lamely, “I was going to be late…”
“And now you’re gonna be spanked.”
“Darius!” Zack clutched the phone closer to his ear, just in case anyone was lurking around the corner and could somehow hear his roommate’s awful words.
“Text me when you’re off, I’ll pick you up.”
“I can walk.”
“And wander the city to hide from your spanking? No. You can text me when you’re off.”
Zack scowled. He’d only done that—well, several times, but still.
“Got it?” Darius asked mildly.
“Yeah,” he grumbled, glaring at the wall.
“Zachary.”
His stomach tightened into complicated knots a rigger would be proud of. “I’m at work,” he whined.
“You alone?”
Stupid Darius and his stupid accurate questions. Zack huffed. “I’m still at work!”
“Okay.” Zack could hear the shrug in Darius’s voice. “We can add it to your tab.”
“No! No, sir, I mean yes, sir, I’ll text you, sir,” Zack hastily amended.
Darius chuckled. “Okay, good. Behave.”
Behave.
As if Zack never did.
… today notwithstanding.
Now he was standing with his body pressed into the corner and he was pretty sure he was gonna die where he stood. If not today, then one day, and if not this corner, then the one in his bedroom. Though the one in his bedroom was less a corner than a timeout alcove—their building was the strangest architecture Zack had ever seen, with random corner alcoves and a penchant for breaking up perfectly good flat walls with an unnecessary pop out that made even more corners. Somebody with a discipline kink had to have designed the building; there was just no other explanation for it, and Zack cursed their name every time Darius made him stand in one of the million corners their space seemed to offer.
Stupid building architect.
Stupid Darius.
Stupid keys.
“Quit kicking the wall, Zachary.”
“I’m not.”
He had been. He hadn’t noticed until Darius said something, but it was against every principle he had to let Darius think he was right, so he argued anyway. He could hear Darius’s snort from the kitchen, but graciously, Darius didn’t comment.
This had to be the longest time anyone had ever spent in the corner ever. Zack groaned and tilted his head back for the full effect. “Daaar.”
“Five more minutes. Think about what put you there.”
“You did,” Zack mumbled under his breath.
“What’s that?”
Warning bells sounded in his head, and he knew he shouldn’t, but his mouth opened before he became consciously aware of it. “I said ‘you did’.”
The silence behind him was deafening.
Zack huddled further into his corner, silently praying it would protect him if Darius got a big idea to come over and swat him again. But he didn’t hear Darius moving behind him at all. It was unnerving. Was Darius stunned? Had Zack finally crossed a line he wasn’t meant to? Guilt clawed at his stomach, burning like acid, and he couldn’t help turning around to look behind him. Darius was bent at the kitchen counter, elbows resting on the countertop, his eyes on Zack. He didn’t look mad. If anything, he looked thoughtful.
Zack wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.
“Which—you know, um, I earned, so I’m just gonna do my cornertime now, sir.” He turned back to the corner, standing up straight, in perfect picture posture.
Behave.
Right. He could definitely do that.
Better late than never.
Though he couldn’t shake the anxiety that he’d made a mistake, and now Darius was really mad at him. He hadn’t looked like it, but that didn’t mean anything.
Still no sounds behind him.
It was probably fine.
Right?
… one peek couldn’t hurt.
He moved his head fractionally, drawing the movement out over several seconds. Really, he should have gotten an award for how stealthy he was being—except he was pretty sure awarding stealthy actions was an oxymoron, and probably against the stealth code, but whatever. Bit by bit, he turned his head until he was fully looking over his shoulder, only to see Darius—
Still watching him.
Still with that thoughtful look.
“Oh. Uh. Hi?”
Darius shook his head. “How about you just come here and we get this over with?”
“What?” Suddenly the corner seemed like the safest place in all of America—maybe even the universe. Zack turned back into the corner, trying not to fidget too much. “Um—no, I’m okay. Thanks.”
“Zachary.”
There was a fond note to Darius’s voice that soothed some of the churning in Zack’s stomach. He jumped as he felt a gentle hand grasp his elbow—he hadn’t even heard Darius come near him, probably having practiced some of the stealth code himself, stupid Tops—and turn him away from the wall. Darius’s deep, black-brown eyes were warm, like burning coal keeping the home comfortable against the freezing winter chill.
He was a good man, Darius. The best friend Zack had ever had; Darius was a member of the family that Zack chose, and one of the few people who knew him for all of him (and not just the acceptable parts). He was the brother Zack didn’t know he needed. And he was also kind of the worst for just calmly towing him to the couch—where, Zack noticed, the bathbrush was lying innocuously across one of the cushions. He dug his heels in, whining a wordless protest, but Darius wasn’t at all slowed up; somehow he still managed to escort Zack to the couch without any trouble. He even managed to take a seat on the middle cushion without letting Zack go.
“You can’t be for real,” he complained, edging back from Darius’s lap as far as the grip on his arm allowed.
“You gonna take your pants off and bend over, or am I gonna make you?”
“Darius.”
Darius tugged on his arm. “C’mon.”
“Ugh.”
If there was anything Zack knew, it was that there was no better word in the world than a heartfelt, deeply guttural ugh. It expressed what other words simply couldn’t, and it was definitely the appropriate response to Darius’s awful request.
All right, so Zack knew why they were here. And yeah, he knew why Darius had gotten the bathbrush out.
Maybe Zack deserved it.
But come on.
“It won’t happen again.” Zack took the effort to meet Darius’s eyes, so his roommate knew he meant it. “I’ll find my keys and I’ll keep them on me at all times, and I’ll never even think about leaving the door unlocked again.”
“Great.”
He said that, but he didn’t let go of Zack’s arm. His grip didn’t loosen even a little—even when Zack tested pulling his arm back.
“Then all that’s left is to spank you.”
“No,” Zack whined. It was the only defense he had left—Darius was clearly beyond reason. Hopefully he spoke to his doctor about all of that when he went to his appointment this afternoon—maybe they’d prescribe him some kind of medication to be less annoyingly fixated on spanking Zack when he earned it, or something.
All right, Zack didn’t mean that. Mostly. He appreciated Darius’s friendship and the way he graciously held Zack accountable—right up until right now, right before it was about to happen.
Ugh.
With extreme reluctance, Zack put his hands to his waist and unbuttoned his jeans, though he left the fabric hanging loosely around his hips. There was no way he was gonna pull his own jeans down for a spanking. Not over his dead body. He took in a deep breath and steeled himself to bend over Darius’s waiting lap, settling his torso on the cushion as comfortably as he could manage. Problem was, no matter how he shifted his weight on his elbows, it didn’t detract from the fact he was bottom up over his roommate’s lap.
Worse, the stupid bathbrush was right in front of his face, glaring at him a lot more intimidatingly than he was glaring back at it.
Stupid bathbrush.
Darius wound his arm around Zack’s waist and pulled him in closer, tucking him against his stomach, and he shimmied the jeans off Zack’s hips and pulled them down his legs. Much further than was necessary, and Zack huffed and wiggled in protest, but it didn’t seem to give Darius any pause.
He left Zack’s underwear up, though, and for that Zack was grateful. He sighed out a breath of relief.
Which he immediately gasped back in as the flat of Darius’s big paw met the curve of his bottom with a shocking clap. Even over underwear, the sound was alarmingly loud—Zack dropped his forehead against the cushion, begging their neighbors not to be home. It wasn’t the first spanking Zack had ever gotten at home, but Zack could never help wondering if the neighbors could hear, and if they could, if they knew what was happening in their apartment.
Would anyone guess a grown man was giving his roommate, another grown man, a sound spanking over his knee?
The very thought heated his face almost as quickly as Darius’s hand worked against his bottom, firing off swats left and right, covering the entire surface area at a quick pace. Zack shifted in Darius’s hold, not so much trying to escape as he was wiggling out his frustration that he was once again being over Darius’s knee, getting his bottom spanked.
And, okay, maybe a little trying to avoid the swats.
Not that he was going to get anywhere—from experience, Zack knew Darius’s hold, though safe, was all-encompassing, and wouldn’t let him go anywhere anytime soon. Not before they were done.
Which meant Zack was here for the long haul, until his bottom was fiery red and sore.
How had he ended up in this position again?
And why the hell did he never seem to learn?
“Dar,” he whined, the growing warmth in his bottom becoming uncomfortable, “come on, it was an accident!”
“You did not the leave the door unlocked by accident. That was a choice.”
Well…
Okay, that he’d done on purpose.
“Yeah, but I—ah—wouldn’t have—mmph—had to if—ow, God.” He paused to gather some air, the constant stream of spanks stealing both his breath as well as most of his attention. “Ugh—if I hadn’t lost my keys!”
“How many times you been spanked for that?” Darius asked, his voice thoughtful in contrast to the steady staccato of his hand. “Fifty times? A hundred? Enough to know better,” he scolded. “Enough we even hid a spare behind your mirror, which isn’t supposed to move unless you really need it. What happened with that?”
Oh.
Shit.
Zack lightly pounded his forehead against the cushion. That was something that Darius was never supposed to find out about that naturally, Zack had forgotten all about.
“... I needed it.”
“And you never put it back.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Zachary…”
“I didn’t mean to forget!”
The defense did nothing to save him from Darius deciding to focus the brunt of his swats against Zack’s sitspots, alternating between them like he was playing bongos. Zack groaned deep from his belly and wiggled with more enthusiasm.
“That was an accident!”
“Deciding to go to work and leaving the door unlocked wasn’t. You know how high the crime rate is?”
“Well—ow, okay, okay, yes, but—oww, who would steal from us?”
“Anyone looking for an opportunity—which you just gave them.”
“But nothing happened,” he whined.
“This is nothing?”
A particularly hard swat met the back of one of his bare thighs, the fabric of his boxer briefs not nearly long enough to provide the proper amount of protection. “Ow! No, sir, that’s not what I—ow, ow—meant!”
“We didn’t get robbed, or murdered, sure, but we could have. Easily.” Darius paused spanking, resting his hand against Zack’s covered bottom. Zack squirmed, hating the pressure of that hand just resting there against his stinging behind. “It was a risk, it was dangerous, and you know it.”
He did. He couldn’t deny it. He couldn’t say much at all, really, except, “I’m sorry.”
Darius didn’t say anything, but he did pat his bottom once, gently, acknowledging the apology. And then his hand moved from Zack’s butt to the waistband of his boxer briefs, and he pulled the underwear straight down, without an ounce of hesitation.
Zack was never going to get over the feeling of so suddenly being bared—his breath expelled from his lungs, blushing hard as a fresh wave of air brushed his bare skin. Not only was he being spanked, but he was being spanked over his best friend’s knee, with his bottom bare, with no way to hide the undoubtable blush of his punished skin from Darius’s eyes. Not only was Darius seeing it, he was the cause of it, and he was just gonna keep going like spanking a bare bottom wasn’t any big deal.
Zack whined his mortification into the cushion. It didn’t matter that they’d lived together for two years now and had definitely been in this position before; it never got any less embarrassing.
Darius shifted a bit, and seconds later when something cool and definitely not Darius’s hand touched his bottom, Zack realized he had picked up the bathbrush. He whined louder.
The cool wood of the bathbrush felt decent enough against his hot skin, but Zack knew it wouldn’t feel that nice for long. Before moving in with Darius, Zack hadn’t seen a bathbrush in his life. That hadn’t been an item any household he’d belonged to had ever owned, and after feeling it applied heartily against his ass, he would be happy to never see one again. Its long handle gave it a large range of motion, and it was a force of nature, even against a well-warmed up bottom. The first swat had Zack choking on a yelp, and it wasn’t long before he was choking on a sob. Then the spanking moved a bit lower to his sitspots, and Zack didn’t have to choke.
He just sobbed.
Okay, he knew, it was stupid. He shouldn’t have done it. Anything could have happened, and he would’ve felt a whole lot more awful than he was feeling during this spanking—as hard as that was to convince himself of right now.
But it was true, and he knew it, and he was glad the spanking was the only bad thing happening to him—at least at the end of the day, even with a sore butt, he’d know Darius cared about him. No one took you in hand and turned your ability to sit into molten lava if they didn’t care about you.
“I’m—sorry,” Zack repeated through his sobs, voice hitching between words.
“I know, hon. Almost over.”
Thank God. Zack wasn’t going to be sitting anywhere anytime soon, that was for sure; his backside felt charred like a log burning. How his skin didn’t turn to ash and crackle right off, he’d never understand—he knew from past experience that, despite how painful it felt now, the only sight he’d see in the mirror was a deep red block of well-spanked skin across his bottom and the tops of his thighs. The heat would fade not terribly long after, but he’d be reminded of his actions every time he sat down for a while.
He deserved it, but he wasn’t looking forward to it.
“You do this again and I’ll kill you. Got it?”
A laugh tumbled from his chest amidst the sobs. Right now, if he was honest, that didn’t sound so bad—at least he’d probably be able to sit in his afterlife.
But he knew Darius wouldn’t actually kill him. Murder his ass, maybe, but that was a different story.
“Yes, sir,” Zack managed thickly, and to utter relief, he heard Darius drop the bathbrush. He settled heavily against the cushions and felt Darius’s hand rub the center of his back, slowly and soothingly. For the first time in hours, Zack felt like he could inhale a true breath—his airflow no longer obstructed by the feeling of being in trouble.
Like the beautiful signs of spring after a hard winter, it was refreshing. He felt better. Lighter.
And not for the first time in his life, Zack had to wonder just how he had gotten so lucky to find such a Toppy roommate when he moved downtown two years ago, not only just willing to handle all of the behavior Zack threw his way, but happy to?
It was definitely unfair, and it was also incredible, and Zack wouldn't change it for the world.