15 minutes of fame

[lolitics_meme]

There will be no freeze until after the conferences are over, should you want a freeze at all.

The usual things:

1) All fills for prompts of the earlier prompt posts go in the post
the prompt was posted in. No re-posting or splitting up prompts
and fills.
2) Self-prompt when you post unprompted fic. (This means posting what the fill is about in a first

Comments

Fill - D/s, Caning and Force-Feeding 1c/4

[anonymous]

"Correct." This time the cane did not fly into nothingness but connected squarely with its target. Peter drew back his arm and hit Alastair's raised arse a second time, making him flinch almost imperceptibly. "What was it? Do you feel like I haven't been seeing to you enough lately? Speak to me."

Alastair faultered. "I..." He broke off as yet another savage strike landed on his backside, stinging sharp through his trousers. "I don't know," was his mumbled answer, followed by a grunt of pain in response to the fourth and fifth blows. He ducked his head between his folded arms and tried to remain strong throughout the remainder of his thrashing. He'd taken it a hundred times before, after all.

By now Peter's arm was tiring but he made himself lift the cane's weight again. He glared down upon the kneeling man at his mercy and threw all of his power into the next blow, laying it right across the tops of Alastair's thighs. "You don't know," Peter snapped. "You just don't know. I work day in and day out to support us. I spend half my time alone, up in bloody Hartlepool, out of choice. I never take a moment's rest, and when I finally come up with an idea to bring us closer together you go and spoil it! It's not fair on me, Alastair, and it's not good enough!"

"I'm sorry."

That little word seemed so feeble in the face of the three strokes still to come. Peter delivered them in quick succession, grimacing as the cane sliced through the air to connect hard with Alastair's clothed backside again and again and again. "There," was his relieved gasp as he dropped the cane at his feet. Watching Alastair slump onto the matress, Peter wrung the life back into his own hands and took one, two steps closer. "Maybe that will finally teach you, hmm?"

"Yes, Peter. Thank you." Shuffling awkwardly onto his side, Alastair lifted an arm to hug Peter to him as the older man wriggled up onto the bed. Their bodies pressed together, they struggled to get comfortable, eventually settling for face-to-face cuddling. Alastair stroked Peter's dark hair and gave a pained smile, all guilt now lifted by the reassuring heat and pain from his caning, the sight of Peter's tired face pressed into his arm...

"What," murmured Alastair at length, "was your idea?"

"I'm sorry?"

"You said you'd had an idea to bring us closer together."

For a moment Peter's eyes glazed over. Then he blinked, and smiled up at Alastair, eyes narrowed. "Isn't it obvious?" He was met with only mute puzzlement. Peter cracked a smile. "In that case, dear, don't worry your pretty head about it for now," he instructed, and laid a kiss on Alastair's chest. "You'll find out soon enough. Now, let's get some sleep."

"But -"

"No buts, or I'll be compelled to beat you again."

So they curled up together, still fully dressed, Peter pulling the duvet up to cover their bodies as the evening descended rapidly into night until the only light through the curtains was that of passing cars. It did not take long for them to fall asleep, tired as they were, any resentment having melted away quicker than it came.