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Hizashi whined, tears coming to his eyes.
He loved his husband’s undivided attention, yearned for it, but fuck was it difficult to take.
The level of effort Shouta would go to, just for the sake of making him miserable, was far better than a grand declaration. Romantic, really.
Fucking nightmare.
The man of his dreams.
He loved to turn his desires against him, as he had done tonight, have him begging for an end to them.
“Please Shouta, it’s too much, can’t take anymore. Stop.”
Shouta grinned like he was going to rip him apart. Fuck, he hoped he would.
“Stop what? Gotta be precise with your words, Zashi, you of all people should know better.”
He kept pumping skilled hands up his cock, giving little kitten licks at his tip just to make him jerk and tense. Crying out in pain when it made him clench on the ginger root buried in his ass, the burn building like an inferno, pushing him that much closer to breaking the rules.
First rule, simple, if not for the way Shouta tested it. He wasn’t allowed to come without Shouta inside of him.
Second rule, challenging, he wasn’t allowed to ask for pain to stop. Without a safeword, of course, or unless it was during Shouta’s unnecessarily regular check-ins.
Third rule, more one to endure than follow, Shouta would do what he asked. Exactly as he asked. Too precisely as he asked. No backing out, no refunds.
A punishment for the way his brain went fuzzy, fucked out and floating, always pulling him back down. He was achingly familiar with the game, but that didn’t mean he was good at it.
“Stop touching my dick.”
Shouta’s hands immediately left him.
He knew, with a sinking feeling, the mistake he had made.
“Of course, Zashi, your pretty little dick has had enough, hasn’t it? Don’t worry, I won’t touch it again.”
Yep, there it was.
The tears started flowing.
He tried to buck his hips back into Shouta’s touch, hissing at the increased burn of the ginger, but he only backed away further, reaching for his hips and holding them up before he could rut against the mattress.
“Please Sho, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, I’m so sorry.”
Shouta’s hands ran through his hair, soothing strokes, clicking his tongue at his suffering.
“I know you are love, I know. I’ll always give you what you want. Whatever you ask for,” the sadistic amusement overrode his faux sympathy, voice rumbling with the threat of this man. The love of his fucking life.
Hizashi let his head drop between his shoulder blades. Sinking into safe and terrible ownership.
He waited for the next step, because there was always something more. Sex enough to survive the drought, all those awful days where they hadn’t energy nor time enough to do more than collapse into bed and fall asleep, sex enough to feel when it was long over. A reminder in his gut, to ensure he would never forget the way he was loved.
Mutual days off were a marathon. They would rest when they were old.
“Of course, since I’ve been so kind, I think you should have to give me something in return. It’s only fair.”
He knew he couldn’t argue. It was going to hurt. Not having been told as much wouldn’t be an excuse for breaking a rule. He’d learnt that the hard way.
“Yep, of course, you’re such a generous guy.”
Shouta’s eyes sparkled in amusement.
“Like Santa but for pain.”
“So, Santa, for the bad kids.”
There was the hint of a smile at the edge of his lips. Hizashi treasured that look like nothing else.
“You could always behave.”
Hizashi stuck out his tongue.
“Never.”
He was rewarded with a laugh, the kind Shouta reserved just for him, genuine and warm and so very fond.
Not that it would change anything.
Sure enough, Shouta reached into the toy chest, pulled out their heaviest wooden paddle, gave it a test swing against the meat of his hand just to watch Hizashi jump at the sound.
“This okay?”
Hizashi’s throat bobbed, mouth watering at the sight.
“Always.”
“Going to go hard. You’re not going to be able to sit down for a week.”
Hizashi grinned, winked at him.
“Sitting down’s overrated anyway.”
Shouta’s dark eyes were heavy with lust. All these years, and still, Hizashi wanted him so badly it hurt.
Not as badly as what he was about to do to him would hurt, but it was a more important type of pain, the kind that lasted a lifetime. Spreading through your lungs and tightening.
He had breathed nothing but him, for half his life, and yet it would never be enough.
“You don’t need to count.”
That was all the warning he got before Shouta pulled back his arm (powerful muscles flexing, shirtless and sweat slicked, beautiful enough to steal the air from him) and swung down.
He never did anything by half.
“Ahh, fuck!”
He rocked forward at the hit, whole body tensing, then sucked in a breath when the ginger made him pay for it.
“Don’t act like you don’t know how to take it.”
Shouta swung again, bringing down an equally devastating blow on the other side. His ass clenched and fluttered, the pain beating like a drum.
It hurt, bright and blinding, but, yeah… Shouta knew him too well.
“You love it when I’m loud.”
“I love it when I make you loud. Don’t give it to me until it’s real.”
He dropped the act. Took the next few hits silently, barely moving beneath the barrage of hard blows, relaxing enough to spare his smarting asshole.
They’d done this so many times, these long years, it took more than a handful of hits to phase him.
He missed it, in a way, the time when an over the knee hand spanking was enough to make him fall apart.
Now, even this was just making him horny, but he knew Shouta just as well.
He wasn’t going to stop, not until it got him begging again. Begging for whatever had a chance of putting an end to this, or begging for the wrong thing, and breaking a rule.
He shuddered at the thought.
He was a good sub, but Shouta was a better sadist. He would find a way to break his good behaviour, if he wanted to, if he was looking for an excuse to be truly cruel. He wouldn’t be able to do a thing to escape it, and yet Shouta would find a way to make it feel like it was his fault, just so he’d think the punishment was deserved. He’d beg for it, so desperately, just for a chance to be good again.
Fuck, just thinking about that kind of night had precum spurting from his cock, hips jerking abortively in the air, renewing the burn in his ass.
The hits were coming thick and fast, the pain settling deeper with every blow, cheeks heating almost as hot as his hole. He was losing the ability to stop himself clenching down, reflexively tensing, squirming at the spreading burn.
He whimpered. Quiet sound, but true, and felt it in the air when Shouta paused.
“Okay?” He loved him with every fibre of his being, but he wished he wouldn’t worry so much.
“Yeah,” he breathed out, slow and heavy, dropping to his elbows and letting his head rest on the mattress. His limbs felt sluggish, but it was good. He needed more.
Shouta pulled out the ginger. Hizashi breathed out a relieved rush of air as the burn slowly faded.
He wasn’t really surprised when a new, bigger, piece replaced it.
Freshly cut and oozing with juice.
“Fuck me,” he groaned heartily, yipping when Shouta did, pulling out the root and thrusting it back in, again and again until he was bucking and writhing, toes curling against the bed. “That wasn’t a request!”
“No,” Shouta laughed, patting him meanly on the end of the ginger. “But I wanted to.”
“I hate you.”
“You’re going to hate me more.”
He picked the paddle back up.
If the swings had been hard before, shit, these ones were brutal.
Hizashi didn’t have to pretend now, he was crying out on every hit. Body trembling in his efforts to stay in position, to not shield himself from the pain, while every nerve screamed at him to do so.
The ginger was building upon itself, leeching liquid fire into tender muscles, making him gasp and hiccup, desperate to have it out. It hurt, it hurt.
Shouta let his blows fall lower, spreading the pain over his sit spots and his upper thighs. He wouldn’t be happy until they were as red as his ass, and he could feel that was glowing red as Rudolph’s nose.
He supposed that would have to be what pulled the sleigh for pain Santa.
His face screwed up in his attempts to hold back what was coming, like he’d just sucked on a lemon. It didn’t work for long.
He devolved into helpless giggles and Shouta heaved an exasperated sigh.
“I’m not even going to ask.”
Shouta gave up on what they were supposed to be doing, crossing his arms and waiting it out, knowing as well as Hizashi did that it was a lost cause until he got a hold of himself.
“It’s so stupid.”
He heaved in desperate breaths, stomach stitching against the laughter.
“This is not the reason you should be crying right now.”
Shit, but he was, and Shouta’s comment only made it worse.
“I was- thinking about how- my ass must be red like- like Rudolph and then I just- I pictured- you as pain Santa with my red ass pulling the-“ he couldn’t breathe enough to finish the sentence.
His wheezing laughter almost drowned out the slap as Shouta facepalmed, hard.
“What am I going to do with you?” He groaned, long suffering, with all of his chest.
Fair, honestly.
“I mean, keep hitting probably.”
“You done?”
He wiped his eyes, feeling himself calm.
“Yeah, think so. Please sir can I have another?” He shook his ass enticingly, let out another tittering laugh. “Sorry sorry, that was the last one, I really am done.”
“Yeah, you are,” the blow landed with the word. Echoing through the room like a shot, like a noise complaint waiting to happen.
Silence.
Hizashi screeched, fairly sure his quirk only stayed dormant because Shouta nullified it. He couldn’t check right now, he was too busy burying his face in the sheets, biting down on them to keep himself sane.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
“Okay for more like that?” Quiet and caring and completely at odds with the merciless way he hit.
“Fucking yes you absolute bastard, oh fuck, fucking shit. Oh my god.”
Another crack in the universe opened up. He clenched his fists by his head, bowed his back, cried out as the pain settled in.
Another blow, and another, layering over and over the sensitive space between his ass and his thighs. Forget about sitting. He might not even lie down.
His eyes squeezed closed, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as the pain kept coming, endless and all consuming, inevitable as the tide.
His noises had devolved to blubbering whimpers, wet desperate sounds that poured from his lips without thought or reason. He wasn’t sure he possessed either one. The pain was drowning him, surrounding him. The ginger too much to bear on top of everything. He needed it out, needed it out.
“Please,” he whispered, against sheets damp from his gnawing teeth, fabric barely lolling out of his mouth enough to allow for sound.
“What was that?” Shouta leaned down, attentive as ever, as he always was when he caused him proper serious pain.
“Please Sho, I need- need it,” he hiccuped another sob at the realisation that he couldn’t ask for the removal of the ginger, an end to the burning devouring heat, any more than he could ask for the blows to stop falling. “Need you to fuck me.” The only option. The only potential way out.
Shouta’s hand stroked up his back, long and comforting, while the other found his cheek, raised it from the bed. He leaned in, kissed the tears away, so tenderly. Hizashi nuzzled into the touch, whining when he pulled away to look him in the eyes, intent.
“We don’t need to keep going. I can fuck you nice, if you want me to.”
Hizashi leaned into his palm, pressed a gentle kiss there, gazed up at him like he was the best damn thing that had ever or would ever happen to him in his life, because he was.
“You can do anything you want to me Sho, I’m yours.”
Shouta’s breath shuddered. He reached forward and pulled him into a proper kiss, all wild desperation, meeting his own.
He loved him so much.
“I love you so much,” Hizashi smiled at the way Shouta mimicked his thoughts.
Sometimes it felt like they shared the same heartbeat. One mind. One soul.
“Carry on with your evil plans. I promise I’ll still love you while I’m screaming and begging in your arms.”
Shouta pulled away, eyes heavy lidded and promising so much. He looked wrecked. He looked like a reckoning.
He laid down another of those cruel hits, two, just to get them back in the zone (that zone being; in Shouta’s case, pure unadulterated sadistic glee, and in Hizashi’s, screaming and sobbing into the mattress) before he set the paddle down.
“You want me to fuck you?”
Hizashi nodded desperately, eyes screwed closed against the throbbing pain of his ass and the burning that came from within.
“Are you asking me to take the ginger out?”
Hizashi whimpered, feeling a trap swing shut, biting into his lungs.
He couldn’t say yes.
But he knew what would happen, if he said no.
Like a deer in the hunter’s sights, he raised his head, looked his executioner in the eyes.
“No.”
He watched the grin stretch across his lips, that crooked evil thing, sending new heat zinging through Hizashi’s body.
He was okay, on consideration, with being devoured.
Fuck, it was going to be mean.
“Open.”
Yeah, sounded about right.
He helplessly let his lips part, putting up no resistance as Shouta pressed his long, beautiful, perfect cock exactly where he didn’t want it, leaving the ginger burning in the depths of him.
“I’m not going to touch your dick again, you know?” Shouta said conversationally, as he started to thrust.
Hizashi groaned at the reminder.
“You can’t come like this.”
He fucking knew.
“I’m not taking the ginger out.”
Yeah, he’d figured that out as well.
“Really not your night, is it?”
Nope. Absolutely miserable.
“I could keep spanking you like this, if I wanted to.”
He yelped at the concept, struggled to shake his head, only for Shouta to hold him still, fuck deep until he was choking on his cock.
Lucky, he’d saved him from breaking a rule, deliberately or otherwise.
“Of course, I could also be persuaded to be kind.”
Hizashi’s eyes sprung open, fixing pleadingly on his beloved bastard of a husband.
Shouta leaned over him, stroking the tears from his cheeks with warm, calloused hands. His voice was low, gentle when he murmured:
“Do it yourself,” he reached for the paddle, placed it in Hizashi’s shaking palm, closed his fingers about it. “If you make yourself cry, properly, before I come in your throat, I’ll take the ginger out and fuck you just like you want.”
Admittedly, being unexpectedly kind hadn’t sounded much like the man he had married, he should have known.
Shit.
“Alright?” He pulled out and let him breathe.
“What do you mean when you say cry properly?”
Shouta grinned wider. “Me to know, you to find out.”
“Shit, okay,” he shuddered in another breath, and Shouta thrust back in.
He got a firmer grip on the paddle, sweaty palms seemingly trying to tell him not to do this, his ass screaming the same.
It hurt, fuck, it hurt.
But…
With Shouta fucking him he had a chance to come.
He struck himself hard, flinching at the renewed pain and the knowledge that it wasn’t enough. He brought the next down harder, and the next and the next.
Shouta fucked his face mercilessly, barely letting him get enough air as he chased the orgasm that would ruin it all. His hair hung messy about his face and shoulders, damp with sweat, beading in the dip of his collar bone and begging to be licked.
Hizashi whimpered, desperation burning worse than the pain. That wouldn’t do.
He swung as hard as he could, clenched down on the ginger and held it like that, fear of lost opportunity overriding his self preservation as he heard Shouta groan, his rhythm beginning to stutter.
He sobbed, and the relief was not strong enough to stand above the way it hurt, tears pouring down his cheeks at the awful thought that this could all be for nothing, that he could have hurt himself like this and still go unfucked and needy, that he could be too late or it could not be enough.
Shouta pulled out and it was like the clouds parting, golden light shining down from heaven while the angels sang.
He may, possibly, have sunk pretty deep into subspace somewhere in the mess of that. Huh. Duly noted and ignored.
He let the paddle fall from his hand, hissing in pain when Shouta moved behind him and squeezed his scorching asscheeks.
“Damn, you did this to yourself for me?” Shouta marvelled, kneading at his ass just to watch him writhe.
“Do anything for you,” Hizashi slurred.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy Hizashi, you don’t know how much I want you, always do,” it was nice, the frantic sound of Shouta’s voice. Made him feel all warm inside.
“You’ve got me,” he grinned dopily, hissing when warm hands pulled out the ginger.
Shouta was impatient, desperate. He could tell by the way he didn’t wait for the burn to fade, just thrust deep in one smooth movement, hissing when some of the ginger spread to his dick.
It didn’t slow him down.
He grabbed tight to Hizashi’s smarting ass, ignoring the way he screeched, and started driving into him in long hard thrusts, rolling perfectly to rub at his prostate with every one.
Hizashi couldn’t usually come from anal alone. It tended to take at least a little attention to his dick to get him to fall over the edge. Fortunately, pain was another matter. When it got this bad, when his whole ass felt like a blinding pinprick of agony… well, he’d been holding back for a while now.
He was a good boy. He knew it wasn’t allowed.
No matter how desperately every awful hit made him want to spill across the sheets, he stubbornly dug his heels in, and refused.
Only with Shouta inside him. Together, as they should always be. Sharing in pleasure, and the pleasure of pain. One heartbeat, and he knew they were beating in tandem because he could feel it inside him, Shouta’s dick and his flaming ass, in total unison as they always were.
Shouta thrust hard enough for the feeling of skin slapping against skin to make his vision go white.
He came with a scream, ears buzzing loud enough that he barely heard the quiet grunt that Shouta gave as he thrust once more, and followed him over.
The orgasm felt like it lasted forever. Wave after wave of agony and pleasure that blended together into something that wasn’t quite either, was something more.
Shouta’s hand found his, slotting their fingers together and holding him like a lifeline, forehead pressed to his shoulder as he shook apart.
They trembled through the aftershocks, clinging to one another until the high faded, pain set in.
“Shit, fuck, get off of me before I die.”
Shouta chuckled, pressed a kiss to his shoulder, and rolled off of him.
“You’re so dramatic.”
He smiled lazily, watching as Hizashi tentatively flexed his muscles.
“I am appropriately dramatic. Fucking hell Sho, I feel like I’m fucking purple.”
He collapsed to the bed on his front, in a way that would make his pillow let out a little puff of air, if this had been a cartoon instead of real life.
Shouta leaned up on one arm, peered down at his ass, fell back to the bed.
“Maybe a little.”
“A little?” Hizashi yelped. “Fuck you,” he couldn’t help but giggle. “Your dick’s so big you don’t even know what a little looks like anymore.”
Shouta raised an eyebrow, lethargically ran his eyes up and down his body.
“You would know.”
“Oh absolutely fuck you more,” Hizashi halfheartedly tried to smother him with a pillow, laughing as he put up an equally halfhearted fight, then played dead.
He slid the pillow back beneath his head, watched fondly while Shouta cleared the mess of hair from his face, static making it stick.
“I love you so much, you know?”
Shouta smiled like one of their overfed cats, smug, content.
“Never doubted it for a minute.”
Hizashi kissed him, equally smug despite the pain in his ass, feeling very much like he had won the lottery fifteen years in a row.
Nah, it was nothing like that.
This was better.