This is a rewrite of an older oneshot from my original 69 shades of bandom called about a boy. Essentially spanking but. Hardcore. This does get pretty. Intense though. So yeah.

•••

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have been like that, I just wanted to say he was pretty because he was," Will stumbles, but his head snaps to the side when Travis's hand comes down on his cheek.

"I told you to keep silent. Is that too much to ask, Will?" Travis snarls, "I told you to keep your mouth shut while I work. And you embarrassed me and him. You should be ashamed."

"I'm sorry," Will manages to whimper, lowering his eyes, "I'm sorry..."

"You're gonna chose your punishment tonight. Because I don't want to think about it. So it better fucking be harsh or I'm just gonna leave you here and I know you hate that," Travis mumbles, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration. Will takes in a deep breath, looking around their room for some sort of an idea, and his eyes stop on the belt of Travis's jeans and he clears his throat softly. The last time he'd done it, they'd only gone up to fifty. And he was exhausted. But everything in Will tells him he can do better. He needs to make a Travis proud of him. He has to.

"One hundred," Will starts, his voice dying off early into a weak, nervous whisper, "One hundred strokes."

Travis raises his eyes, "With my hand?"

"With the belt," Will manages. Travis inhales deeply, "Good."

Will stands, looking to their waist-high dresser and deciding that'll work as he slowly begins pushing the decorations aside, staring into the mirror for a solid moment before Travis pushes his back down, making him bend over sharp.

"One hundred?"

"Yes," Will whispers, holding his hands together clammily, "I don't want to let you down, Sir."

"You won't," Travis replies, pulling down Will's pants and underwear, "I don't want you going into subspace. You're gonna stay right here with me. And you're gonna count. Can you do that for me?"

"Yes, Sir," William replies, shutting his eyes and taking in a deep breath. He hears the ringing of the belt clasp, and the sound of fabric on leather as it pulls out of belt loops and sits gently on Will's ass. Will takes another deep breath and crosses his arms above his head, gripping onto his elbows as the first strike comes down. Will gasps, it stings and suddenly he's afraid that he bit off way more than he could chew. He forgot how bad it felt. And he forgot how much he hated it. And all he can do is sit there and take it.

The second and third come down fast, in rapid succession, followed by a fourth and fifth, a little slower. Will's ass is already a soft pink and it's burning like hell under Travis's fingertips as he swipes over the sensitive skin. Will moans soft as the next several come down and he counts in his head: six, seven... eightnineten... eleven, twelve... thirteen... fourteenfifteen. He groans hard when sixteen comes, the skin already breaking. Travis takes a small break to massage his ass, down the tops of his thighs where some of the strokes had come down. Will is breathing in as deep as he can and releasing for as long as he can.

"Do you want to use a safeword, or is stop okay?" Travis asks.

"Safeword. We can use yellow and red," Will sighs.

"Okay," Travis says before the room fades back into silence and the next ten come slowly. The markings have begun to sit in the same spot each time, making each strike slightly more unbearable until Will is gripping the edge of the dresser and whining each time the belt comes down. They're at thirty when he first screams, tears immediately falling down his cheeks. He's shaking slightly but he knows it's far from over. Travis gives him a minute to recover, wiping his tears.

"You're doing good," He says, "Seventy more."

Will nods, exhaling deeply before going still besides the slight shaking in his body.

Smack!

Thirty-one. Will bites his lip as Travis lets the next five come down in a rhythmic succession and he slowly begins gripping the dresser even harder.

Thirty-six. Travis hits hard on the next one and Will sobs out again, cheeks even wetter. His dom doesn't give any mercy for the next twenty. The first five are gentle, his hand comes down to massage the irritated skin, but the middle ten come down hard and fast, he doesn't stop once. It comes down in quick succession and Will begins screaming again, the pain unbearable. He wants to yell out a safeword, anything. But he doesn't because he knows he's the one who fucked up. And it's his words who got him here. He flinches forward on the last three, shaking the dresser. And when the final five come down, slower pace, he's sobbing, gasping for air. Anything.

"You're doing so well," Travis whispers, setting the belt down beside Will, "what are we at now?"

"F-fifty-six...?" Will whispers, hoping it isn't true.

"Only forty-four more. That's not so bad, is it?"

"No, Sir," Will whispers, shutting his eyes and sniffling. His body is shaking worse, but he's trying to control it as to not worry Travis. Because he wants to make it through this. It isn't a fun punishment, they never are.

"We can get through ten, hmm?"

Will immediately braces himself, "Yes, Sir."

Travis pulls back and Will's breath is caught in his throat as the belt comes down once, over the worst place, making him cry out. Followed by nine more just above. Will is crying hard by the time it's over, red eyes, flushed cheeks, and wet hands as Travis rests a hand on his left cheek, rubbing the bruises and cuts already forming.

"Sixty-six." Travis says gently, "Do you need to safeword?"

Will shakes his head. He wants to say yes, so bad, but there's something in him that tells him to keep going.

The next three come down softer, there's still a distinct, crisp slap that echoes, but it's not near as loud and Will sighs when the next one comes down.

"Can you give me a spare shirt, or something?" Will asks, weak, "I need to bite."

Travis wastes no time in grabbing one of Will's shirts from the closet and placing it in his arms. Almost immediately, he bites down on a large chunk and rests there, shutting his eyes to endure the last thirty. Travis rests his hand back on his left cheek and delivers five to the right in fast succession. Will screams hard into the cloth, panting and sobbing and biting down as hard as he can because he can't stand the pain and it hurts so fucking bad. He's afraid he won't be able to make it but his mind only tells him twenty-five left and he cries as Travis covers his right cheek and does the same. Five more. Will wants to scream stop. Wants him to stop. He wants it to be over.

But he can't let that happen. He can't.

"Twenty," Travis says soft.

Will nods, trying to stop shaking, but he can't find the energy, and he lets his body tremble.

Three come down slow over both cheeks, Will screams again, each time, and his tears soak into the shirt as two more come down, fast. Travis lets him have a break.

"How many left?"

Will pulls out the shirt and whispers in a horse voice, "fifteen."

"Can you make it?" Travis asks, genuine.

"I..." Will inhales softly, and exhales not long after trying to reevaluate how much it actually hurts and if he's sure he can take it. Travis strikes long, dark locks and finally Will whispers, "I can. Yeah. Go slow, though. Please."

Travis nods, "Of course."

Will presses the shirt back into his mouth, and slows his breathing, "Okay."

Travis pulls back and gets ready, switching hands with the belt. The first comes down hard, Will jumps against the dresser, but he absorbs the blow along with the next a few seconds after. He isn't quite screaming anymore, but he's still groaning into the shirt. The last thirteen come slowly. He manages to not safeword and when the final strokes comes down, he's still shaking hard.

"So good," Travis whispers, dripping the belt and kissing the back of Will's neck tenderly, "You did so great. I'm so proud of you. Let me go get some lotion; alright?"

Will nods, unable to speak. Travis is only gone for a few seconds in the bathroom before he comes back, with lotion that he sets beside Will's head. He gently presses his hands over Will's ass, admiring the bruises and the red marks and the few cuts that managed to come out.

Will whimpers when his hands rub the excess lotion over his lower back and he pulls Will up slowly, making sure his muscles are forgiving.

"You wanna run a bath?" Travis asks, stroking the tears from Will's cheeks.

Will only nods, following Travis into the bathroom and shutting the door. Despite it all, though. He's happy he made it. Because the look in Travie's eye afterwards gives him the pride that makes it matter.