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"Do you know why you're here tonight, Gwaine?" Arthur asks. He waits expectantly for an answer and sighs in mock disappointment when none comes.
It is hard to say something when your mouth is gagged, after all.
"You came to training late today," Arthur answers his own question, rising to his feet. He crosses the room to the bed, where Gwaine is strung out on his stomach, a limb tied to each bedpost. "Hungover, no less. Hardly the behavior expected of a Knight of Camelot." The muscles of Gwaine's forearms and thighs strain against their bindings, but the rope holds him taut. Arthur doesn't want Gwaine to be able to get too comfortable. "So how should I punish you?"
Arthur walks past the bed and opens the armoire where he keeps his selection of "corrective" tools. Which one should he use tonight?
He picks up the riding crop first, turning it over in his hands. This one is fun. One of his preferred tools. It reddens the skin beautifully, leaves crisp marks, and raises welts instead of deep bruises.
But not tonight. Arthur had used it on Gwaine last time, and the behavior obviously has not been corrected. Something harder tonight, then? He returns the riding crop to its space. His hand glides over a cane and a whip and pauses over a piece of ginger.
Merlin had left it here. He'd said a visiting noble told him that it could be quite… stimulating when inserted into someone's arse.
That would be a sight to see. Gwaine stuffed full of the ginger root, writhing on the bed. Arthur's cock strains against his breeches; he palms at it absently before deciding to pass on the ginger tonight. It would be too much of a reward for Arthur himself, less of a punishment for Gwaine.
Nipple clamps and sounding rods are equally discarded—what's the point when Gwaine is lying on his stomach?
Arthur pauses when he reaches a set of candles. Lancelot had demonstrated their use on Merlin a few months ago. The scene still replays in his mind. It would be wonderful to see how Gwaine reacts to it. The anticipation. The flinch.
He just has to be careful of the heat.
The wick easily catches flame, melted wax pooling at the tip. Perfect.
"Let's see," Arthur muses aloud and slowly walks back to the bedside. "You were twenty minutes late this morning. Can you endure for that long?"
Gwaine's muffled voice breaks around the gag. Sounds like an affirmative to Arthur. He raises the candle about half a meter over Gwaine's bare shoulders and slowly tilts it. Three drops of wax splatter against Gwaine's skin, and his groan vibrates through his entire body. Arthur keeps the candle tilted, letting wax drip down, as he continues in a line down Gwaine's back, adjusting the height of the candle until he finds the sweet spot. Just a little too hot for comfort, but not enough to burn. He stops at Gwaine's arse. It's a lovely arse; he has special plans for it.
Each splash of wax causes Gwaine to jerk against his bindings. His skin reddens slightly under the off-white of the wax. Arthur sets the candle on the nightstand and presses a thumb into one of the waxy spots. Gwaine's muscles shift under him. For a moment, Arthur forgets his purpose, digging into Gwaine's skin, marking him with fingerprint bruises.
The scent of the candle burning returns him to his senses. Arthur picks the candle back up.
He plays around with Gwaine's anticipation this time. A couple drips in quick succession along the ridges of his spine, followed by a small pause. One drip, a pause, another drip, another pause. Arthur attacks this methodically, if not a little diabolically, until Gwaine is shaking on the bed.
But Arthur intends to drive the point home this time. Gwaine's back was just an appetizer. Now for the main course.
Arthur raises his free hand and smacks Gwaine's left arse with just enough strength to shock the skin bright red. He tilts the candle to spill wax onto his right side.
Gwaine's muffled cries are music to Arthur's ears. And his cock. Part of him wishes he could just bury himself deep in Gwaine and fuck him into learning his lesson. It'd definitely be fun to try, yet not likely to stick. Hasn't yet. This will.
He strikes the same spot on Gwaine's arse twice more, waxing the other side in between hits. That's when he switches sides. Arthur drops wax onto the bruised side. Now Gwaine is crying, yet between his legs, trapped against the sheets, his cock is hard.
Arthur's mouth waters. He loves sucking Gwaine's cock; he wishes he could do that now. Instead, he has to be here, punishing Gwaine, which is now punishment for both of them. His irritation leads to a harsh spanking, and with the five minutes he has left, Arthur doesn't relent this time.
Smack, drip, slap, splash, whack.
His palm stings from the force behind his strikes, and the wax melts across Gwaine's arse so prettily.
Arthur puts the candle down. He imagines shoving his cock into Gwaine now; he'd be so loose and pliant, it wouldn't take much force. It also wouldn't take much for Arthur to come. He'd thrust harshly, pounding his thighs against Gwaine's bruised arse, and then Gwaine would clench around him, so warm, and Arthur would fill him with his seed. He'd watch the way a little leaks out, mixing into the wax.
His hand works up and down his cock, the fantasy playing out in his head. With a groan, he comes, spilling over Gwaine's arse.
It does make quite the sight, wax and cum over Gwaine's reddened skin.
Arthur engraves the moment in his memory while the remnants of his orgasm fade away. Then he extinguishes the candle and starts cleaning Gwaine up. The cooled wax peels easily off of Gwaine for the most part. He tosses the pieces aside—Merlin's problem in the morning—and grabs a bottle of massage oil out of his armoire.
Gwaine stays limp as Arthur undoes the bindings on his ankles and wrists. He doesn't even have enough energy to glare when Arthur reaches for the gag. Arthur works the oil over Gwaine's skin with delicate hands, mindful that this is no longer punishment but cleaning up.
Muffled snores echo throughout Arthur's chambers not even halfway through the massage. Arthur rolls his eyes and finishes up quickly so he can lay next to Gwaine. He watches his sleeping face, reaching up to press a finger to his lips. Maybe this punishment has worked.
Arthur falls asleep with a smile on his face, satisfied. Well, it wouldn't be the worst thing if it hasn't.