Peyton gave an excited squeak. “Just tell me where you want me. I’ve got condoms and—”
His next squeak was more surprised than excited as he found himself unceremoniously draped across Tex’s lap in much the same position he’d been in yesterday.
“Hey!”
“This is where I want you.”
The familiar flash of Tex’s beefy palm had him howling right from the beginning. He tried to protest, but Tex wasn’t having it.
“This is for refusing to do your work,” he announced as he laid down the law on Peyton’s ass. “And this is for trying to bribe me with a blowjob,” he added some painfully loud minutes later. “I have a job to do, Peyton. I’m not a sex worker.”
“I didn’t— Ow! Ow, ow, ow!” Peyton kicked his legs, trying to get his feet flat on the floor so he could push himself up, but Tex had him tilted so far forward his head touched the ground and his feet didn’t.
“The staff isn’t allowed to fraternize with the clientele, but you just had to waggle your ass at me. Wearing a jockstrap on a ranch.” Tex slapped the top of one of Peyton’s thighs, just below the elastic strap crossing it.
“Ow!” Peyton protested. Not an original thought, but that was fresh flesh Tex had just hit, and it somehow managed to sting even more than the already abused flesh, which had warmed up to the point he’d reached yesterday where the glow started to suffuse through his body.
“You deserve a spanking just for the jock,” Tex continued, applying his hand to the underside of Peyton’s right ass cheek, almost like he was cupping it. “Trying to make me think about your ass when I have a job to do.”
Peyton turned his head to look up at Tex because, unless he was misreading that last comment, Tex had just suggested he found Peyton’s ass attractive. But Tex raised his knee higher, causing Peyton to tip even farther forward so he couldn’t see Tex’s face, and went back to spanking the tops of his thighs.
“By God, Peyton, I’m going to make a man out of you if it’s the last thing I do.”
Peyton’s cock was currently making it pretty obvious that he was already a man, at least in a biological sense. The magic that somehow turned pain into pleasure was doing its work as the aching glow in his ass infused his cock and worked its way out through every limb. His skin felt electric—and not just where Tex was hitting it—and the harsh words falling down on him only ramped his desire higher.
Yes, he’d been a slacker again. Left to his own devices, he would fail every time. But Tex refused to leave him to his own devices. Tex cared enough to improve him. With his help, Peyton’s lethargy and cowardice would burn to ashes, leaving him to rise like a phoenix.
He began to relish Tex’s slaps to the fresher flesh of his upper thighs, which sparked brighter against the red throb of his arousal. He moaned as he humped Tex’s lap, caught between wanting release and wanting this to never end. As long as he could feel Tex’s palm against his cheeks, he had hope.
His mind flitted away to a warm, soft spot of utter abandon. Drool ran heedlessly from the corners of his mouth as he cradled his head in his arms, limp over Tex’s lap, utterly content, utterly drained. He was crying, but so gently it was like a cleansing rain, and his cock throbbed like a heartbeat—no longer clamoring for release but content, like the rest of him, to be a hot, aching, formless need.
Tex wasn’t hitting him anymore, he realized, though he had no idea when the spanking had stopped. Tex’s motions were soothing now, like he was gentling a horse. He patted and stroked, cupped Peyton’s ass with careful, healing hands.
“Back with me?” he asked, and Peyton nodded, though he couldn’t say where he’d gone.
“You took that beautifully. You have your flaws, Peyton, but you… you make up for them. You’re capable of so much. Do you understand that? Do you understand that I want you to be everything you can be?”
Peyton nodded again. He was far too tired to make real sense of Tex’s words, but he understood the gist of them. He’d been forgiven. He would do better. Tex loved him.
In this sleepy, oddly satisfied state, he didn’t question the word love. He could feel it too strongly. Tex wouldn’t administer to him so thoroughly if he didn’t care. Peyton struggled to get himself upright, wanting to kiss this beautiful man. But just like after the spanking in the barn, Tex only allowed so much.
“It’s a job, Peyton,” he said, sounding a little desperate as he held Peyton away from him.
Job. Not love. Not concern for his well-being or tender care administered with love. Only prescribed punishment, doled out according to the schedule.
This time, Peyton’s tears weren’t a release of pain. They were anexpressionof pain. He put a hand to his heart, staggering away from Tex to grope blindly for the jeans he’d discarded earlier.
“Peyton, wait.” Tex jumped to his feet and chased after him, crashing into him and carrying them forward until Peyton was pressed against the wall. He struggled to get away from the crush of Tex plastered against his back.
“Stop, don’t. You handled that punishment so well and just… don’t, please. Don’t… don’t be mad at me.”
Tex’s last words were nearly a whisper. Peyton heard the pain in them, even as he felt Tex’s erection separate his ass cheeks, the long weight of it lying perfectly along his crack.
“I want to,” Tex whispered. “I want to so bad.”
Peyton rotated in Tex’s arms. He must look a mess. Red-faced, his skin blotchy from tears and marked by tracks of sweat and snot. Tex couldn’t really want him. But when he gazed into Tex’s eyes, he saw Tex did. The erection Tex was sporting was forhim, just like the punishment had been for him. And he needed to give something back, even if Tex wasn’t sure about taking it.
He sank to his knees, trailing his hands down Tex’s denim-covered thighs until he came face to face with that beautiful bulge. He rubbed his cheek over it, relishing the soft abrasion of stone-washed denim and the hardness of the cock distending it. He swore he could smell Tex’s groin, the manly aroma of pre-come mixed with musk.
