Chapter 25 #2
“I’m getting heatstroke. I’ll head home,” Kieran informs him. He shrugs to dislodge Ash’s hold. “You can stay and play if you want.”
The guy’s face lights right up. Kieran wants to punch him.
Feeling Ash’s burning gaze on him, he raises the barrier, blocking him out.
“Nah, I’m too old and out of shape for that,” Ash says.
“Yeah, right. You look like you let yourself go.”
Kieran walks back to their spot to pack up, then heads to the restrooms for a quick shower and to change out of the swim trunks. Ash is waiting for him by the car, his gaze following Kieran’s every step, but he remains quiet. Smart choice.
Neither of them speaks during the drive home. It’s not until they’re back at the apartment, Tequila coming over to complain about being left alone for two whole hours, that Ash speaks.
“Could you tell me what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Kieran—”
“You don’t have to follow me around like a puppy,” he snaps. “You could’ve stayed and had some fun.”
Ash seemed right in his element, laughing and joking with a group of interesting people.
He could be out there, enjoying life after finishing work, not be stuck with a time-traveling boyfriend and an evil cat.
Ever since Kieran was planted here, all Ash has been doing is follow him around and ease him out of his meltdowns.
He could do so much better if he didn’t feel so responsible for Kieran.
“I am,” Ash says slowly. “I’m having fun with you.”
Kieran looks away. He doesn’t want to see that earnest puppy dog expression. It just fucks with his head.
“Right.” He lets out a humorless chuckle. “Because who wouldn’t prefer to be shacked up with their moody, painfully plain boyfriend whose idea of adventure is trying a new ice cream flavor instead of—fuck! What are you doing?!”
Ash is suddenly right in front of him, having eradicated the distance in a few swift strides. He presses Kieran against the island and closes a hand around his jaw.
“Enough,” he growls. “I’ve had enough.” His brows are pulled together in an angry frown, highlighting the blazing glare in his eyes. If it wasn’t for his hand pinning Kieran in place, that look alone would’ve done the job.
“Let go.” Kieran wiggles, but all that gets him is being pushed more firmly against the island, the sharp edge digging into the small of his back. Shit, that escalated awfully fast.
“No. Not this time,” Ash informs him, unwavering. “I’ve warned you about what would happen if you ever uttered another nasty word about yourself.”
As the memory resurfaces, Kieran’s pulse skyrockets.
“Stop fucking around.”
A sinister smile stretches Ash’s lips. “Oh, I’m not fucking around. On the contrary, I’ve finally reached my limit. I’ve let it slide way too many times. It’s time for you to learn your lesson.”
Then Kieran is being spun around like a ballerina in a music box. Ash’s voice is right in his ear, his breath on Kieran’s neck.
“Since what I’m saying is clearly not getting through that pretty head of yours, I’ll need to make you remember it another way. Bend over.”
“W-what?” He tries to look over his shoulder. Surely, Ash is joking.
Ash holds him in place with a hand to the back of his neck and repeats, “Bend. Over.”
Kieran shakes his head.
This is madness. They can’t— Ash can’t possibly—
Kieran starts to shake. The tell-tale sign of incoming tears is burning behind his eyes, and he needs to hold onto the counter in case his knees give out. Fuck, he’s scared. Terrified.
For a short moment, he feels Ash’s grip on his neck loosen.
“Anything you want to say to me?” Ash’s voice is softer now, closer to what Kieran’s got used to. And what does he mean, is there anything Kieran wants to say?
The safeword. Right. Kieran has a safeword, for situations like this. Because this…this is what they do. In the future, this is the type of relationship they have.
There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s a game of pretend, and Kieran can call it off any second with just one word.
So why won’t he stop shaking? Why does he still feel like crying? What does he have to be scared of?
Wait, that’s…
That’s not fear, not truly. He’s not afraid of Ash. He’s not afraid of being hurt.
He fucked up, and he hates himself for it.
He did something bad, something Ash had asked him not to do. He hurt Ash. Ash asked him to stop, and Kieran hadn’t taken him seriously. He’d been ignorant and hurt someone he…cares about.
Guilt settles in his gut with dreadful coldness, some of the tears finally spilling over. If only he could take it back and—
Oh.
Something he’d read about after he and Ash had the talk about their ‘lifestyle’ comes back to him now. He’d wanted to do his own research to understand their dynamic better, and this was one of the things he’d come across in several resources.
This isn’t just punishment. This is a way to set himself free.
He doesn’t have to obsessively agonize over the mistakes he’s made.
He doesn’t have to worry about Ash holding a grudge against him, using it against him.
He doesn’t have to worry about Ash leaving over his fuck up.
He doesn’t have to keep punishing himself forever.
Ash will do it for him. He repeatedly mentioned that actions have consequences. He’ll hold Kieran accountable, but only for as long as is necessary. Once Kieran takes responsibility, all is going to be forgiven. Right? That’s how this works.
Please let it be how it works.
Mind made up, he shakes his head again. He doesn’t need to use his safeword because he’s already safe.
Next to him, Ash releases a shaky breath. His hand leaves Kieran’s neck, but before Kieran can panic about what that means, Ash slides it lower to rest on his back. A calming presence as if to say: I’m here, and it’s all gonna be okay.
“In that case, bend over, now. Then pull your shorts down.”
Heat shoots up to Kieran’s face, all confidence suddenly gone. Fuck, this is humiliating.
Yeah, well, that’s what you get for being a brat, an Ash-like voice in his head retorts.
With one deep breath, Kieran bends at the waist. The island is cool against his skin, the temperature shock making him hiss.
“The shorts, Kieran.”
Squeezing his eyes shut, Kieran hooks his thumbs behind the waistband and tugs, hard and fast. They hit the floor with a soft thud, but to his ears the sound is deafening. Fuck, he’ll die of embarrassment.
Something soft touches his hips, making him jerk in surprise.
“Good boy,” Ash says, low and pleased. The words, as well as the pride in them, stir something in Kieran’s belly.
He relaxes, melting against the island when Ash strokes his hips in small, gentle circles. The tenderness is such a direct contradiction to what’s about to happen that Kieran’s head spins.
“I-is it gonna hurt?”
“Yes.”
Kieran buries his face in his folded arms. “How much?”
The hands on his hips cease stroking. They grip, hard enough to sting, and make him inhale sharply.
“As much as it hurts me when you say bad things about yourself.”
Welp. He’s fucked.
Then Ash is gone. Well, his hands are, but Kieran can feel his burning presence close by.
“One word, Kieran,” is all he says.
Kieran gets approximately two seconds before Ash’s palm connects with his right butt cheek. Hard.
The sharp sting propels him forward, the edge of the island digging into his hipbones.
Fucking hell, Ash is not easing him into it.
“Anything you want to say?”
About a million things, just not the one Ash is on alert for.
He shakes his head again. A split second later, his left cheek is on fire.
“Ow.”
“Anything?”
“Screw. You,” Kieran manages between pants.
Ash’s chuckle is dark. “That’s my boy.”
Then it’s too fast to keep track, to keep counting to himself.
Ash doesn’t give him breaks anymore, each hit delivered different to the last. Sometimes sharper, sometimes less, leaving Kieran guessing.
At first, anyway. Little by little, Kieran’s focus slips, until all he can think about is the burning pain in his buttocks, the heat that seems to spread throughout his whole body.
It's the strangest thing, to be losing grip on his own thoughts while his mind has never felt clearer, worry-free. Suddenly, he doesn’t care he’s stuck in the future, isn’t worried about the time-space continuum, or how to find his way back.
He doesn’t need to. In fact, he doesn’t need to do anything except listen to Ash.
Because Ash will take care of him, as he’s been doing this whole time. Even if, sometimes, he has a weird way of showing it.
By now, Kieran’s eyes have turned to waterfalls.
Each hit hurts so bad it’s almost impossible to breathe.
But the knowledge that he’s worth getting upset over, that Ash cares enough to teach him a lesson, to hurt him so Kieran won’t hurt himself anymore…
It’s fucked up, but it makes him feel so fucking cherished.
It’s as if the sting of each hit burns away a little bit of the heavy weight he always carries around, every nasty thought he’s ever had about himself.
As if Ash is shaping him into a new person.
A better person. A happier person. One that’s not weighed down by the whole fucking world.
One that can just exist, here and now, with Ash.
The pain is close to unbearable now, the heat turning into numbness. Is this how much Ash is hurting because of him?
“I’m sorry,” Kieran sobs, choking on his own tears.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He chants the words over and over, his tongue tripping over them until they become an incomprehensible babble.
His ears are filled with white noise, blocking the world out, but Ash’s voice cuts through it like a knife through butter.
“Good boy. Such a good boy.”
His body is hoisted up and carried towards the sofa.
“It’s over, Kieran. All done.” Kisses are rained onto his tear-streaked face, one pressed against the corner of his mouth. The almost-kiss sends a jolt of electricity all the way to his toes, chasing the numbness away.