Taskin manages to hold on to Kevian's promise for about six weeks before he starts to feel…itchy. Restless. They speak almost every day with the communication stones, but it's longer than he's gone without seeing his partner since they'd decided they had more than a casual thing. Until this point, Kevian had managed to make it back to him every couple of weeks, the longest stretch one truly miserable four weeks. This time, the Senary has sent him further afield, and he isn't sure for how long.
He used to take care of this buzziness with adrenaline. Mostly sex, with partners both casual and long-term, but the odd risky adventure hadn't been out of the question. When those things had stopped working, Taskin had taken off on the greatest adventure yet, across oceans to integrate himself into the life of the country where a good number of the citizens probably hate him.
But he'd arrived, thinking he'd learn as much as he could about the Empire and go home…and then he'd met Kevian. Kevian has an entirely different method of taking care of the buzzing and the itching; he simply turned him over his knee, and somehow a spanking worked wonders for turning off his brain. For that alone, Taskin might have tried to keep him forever - the fact that he was also brilliant, and kind, and as steady as anyone Taskin had ever met felt like the intervention of Liril herself.
The problem is, now that he knows how well Kev can take care of him, and keep him as steady as the cleric is, it's really hard to do without that support. Just a little over six weeks now, and he feels like he wants to peel his skin off. He knows he should tell Kevian how he's feeling, but he doesn't think it's fair to burden him with the knowledge. If he could get back to Mythlight, he'd be here, so telling him would only make him feel bad. It's not like he can do anything about it from half a country away.
"I don't think those dishes did anything to you," Gefin says mildly from the kitchen doorway.
Taskin flushes a little, aware that he'd been slamming and stomping his way around the house all morning. He just hadn't been aware anyone else was home - he thought Gefin and Kuri were both at work. "Um," he smiles up at Gefin sheepishly. "No. Sorry." He turns away to start - much more gently - putting the dishes in the cabinets. Gefin does almost all of the cooking; he's good at it and he likes it, so Taskin has insisted on taking up as much of the cleaning and tidying as he can, determined not to feel like a burden. Today, he quickly becomes aware that Gefin hasn't left. To the contrary, the big mage has wandered in and is leaning up against the counter, very much in Taskin's way.
"So why are you terrorizing my kitchenware?"
Taskin turns away. "It's nothing."
"Sure doesn't feel like nothing," the big man counters.
"I'm fine," he insists, stacking the clean plates as quietly as possible. He lifts them and turns, but they belong behind Gefin. "Excuse me."
"Put those down and talk to me, please," Gefin gently touches his hand, "you've been on edge all week." Taskin feels the irrational urge to drop the plates on the ground, frustration swelling. Tamping it down, he carefully places the dishes on the counter and steps back. Yes, he knows it's true; the restlessness has been getting bad, and as a result, he's been grumpy and snappish with his hosts. His friends. But what good will rehashing how much he misses Kevian do? He doesn't want to talk about it.
"We're worried, honey," Gefin says quietly. "This isn't like you."
Except it is like him, it's just not a side of him Gefin and Kuri have seen. Taskin finds his heart racing, desperate to escape the gentle scrutiny. He turns away from the mage and reaches for a lightweight scarf. It has been warm, but here in the mountains, there is always a chill wind. Winding it around his neck, he turns towards the door. "I just need some air," he mutters, his voice tight with frustration. "I feel cooped up."
Gefin stands too. "Taskin, honey, stop. Come talk to me."
"I just need some space," Taskin tries to sound calm and reasonable, giving what he hopes is a little smile. "I'll be back in a little bit."
Gefin's expression softens even further, but his voice, when he speaks, is firm. "No, honey. You're not supposed to be out and about, remember? It's not safe."
Taskin finds himself scowling and turns his face away, hoping that Gefin won't see it, because he knows it's not fair. It's not his friend's fault that Kevian is kept away, or that his life is in danger. "I'll be fine, Gefin. I won't leave the neighborhood. I'm just going for a walk."
"Taskin, stop." Ignoring the soft command, he heads for the door, ready to be outside, but the big mage steps towards him. "Honey, if you step outside that door, we're gonna be having a very different talk, and I don't think you'll like it."
He's far too stressed now to listen to the quiet warning in his lover's words. He'll be fine, and maybe even be ready to talk like Gefin wants when he gets home. He walks with purpose down the hall towards the front door, not even hesitating to pull it open and step out into the sunshine.
A hand closes around his arm, and he finds himself drawn back into the house before he can even enjoy the rays on his face. Gefin's grip is gentle but inexorable as he guides him into the nearest room, the study just inside the front door, and straight into an empty corner. "I want you to go ahead and stand here until you're ready to be honest with me."
"Gefin!" he turns around, shocked, only to yelp when the mage smacks his butt, sharp and unexpected. "Ow!"
Gefin's expression, when he peeks over his shoulder, is unruffled. "When you're ready to tell me what's wrong with you, I'm ready to listen. Until then, turn around, put your nose in the corner."
Taskin spins around. "I don't want to talk about it!"
"Well, honey, I'm sorry about that, but we're gonna talk about it," Gefin responds. "It's your decision how that goes, though. You can talk to me after you stand in the corner a moment, or you can talk to me after I warm your bottom for you."
Taskin flushes hot and cold. They'd talked about this, after Kevian left, and he'd given permission for both Kuri and Gefin to spank him, but honestly, he'd thought it would be in play…in bed. He had maybe even suspected Kuri was serious about smacking him if he did something dangerous. But no part of him had considered this…had considered Gefin.
Gefin's eyes don't leave Taskin's face as he stands deliberating, suddenly uncertain about pushing. When the big man seems to decide Taskin is taking too long, he leans forward a little bit into Taskin's space. "If you make me come over there and turn you around," he warns, his voice kind and even, "You'll be doing the corner time with a hot bottom too."
The persistent kindness is his undoing; he can feel the tears gathering hot behind his eyes. "Gefin, I can't," he mumbles. "Please help me."
It seems impossible, but Gefin's expression softens further. "Alright, honey," he murmurs, walking back over and taking his hand. "Come here."
Taskin nods, unable to speak. Tears are spilling freely now down his face, hot and stinging. Pulling gently on his hand, Gefin guides him back towards the couch and sits, positioning Taskin between his knees. Taskin lets himself be moved, head bowed, legs trembling.
"Look at me, honey," Gefin says softly. Taskin drags his eyes up to meet his gaze, eyes wide and vulnerable. Gefin's expression is reassuring and still gentle.
"I'm gonna help you, okay?" Gefin's voice is a warm rumble. Taskin nods. Anything has to be better than the way he's been feeling the last couple of days…weeks. Reaching forward, the mage slips warm fingers into Taskin's waistband and slides his breeches and underthings down to his knees before guiding him down over his knees and moving his tunic out of the way. When he rests a large hand on his bare backside, Taskin flinches, anticipating a smack, but Gefin just lets his hand rest there.
He can't figure out if the gesture should be reassuring or ominous. He's a big man, Gefin, and his hand covers almost the entirety of Taskin's bottom, which feels like it should be threatening. But in the years he has known the mage, that they have been lovers, he has never for even a moment been afraid of the man who, despite his size, is one of the gentlest people he knows. Taskin can't imagine being afraid of Gefin's large hands, but still he squirms over his knee, feeling the butterflies in his stomach multiplying.
"I'm going to light a fire back here on your little bottom, and then we'll take care of whatever is going on in your head until you can be my sweet boy again and tell me what's going on with you. Alright, honey?" Gefin says, voice as firm as it's been yet this afternoon, yet tender still.
Taskin doesn't know if he can choke out a response, but Gefin isn't waiting for one. He pats Taskin's upturned bottom once, as if taking aim, and then lifts his hand and delivers the first firm spank. The sting is sharp, immediate, and confirms Taskin's worst suspicion: he's able to cover most of both cheeks in one go, which means that when the second swat falls, it falls on already spanked skin.
Gefin spanks slowly and purposefully, letting the burn of each hard swat build to its full potential before landing the next in the exact same spot. By the time Gefin has brought his hand down five times, Taskin is yelping with each swat, something it usually takes Kevian several minutes to accomplish. By ten, he starts to writhe in earnest, trying to squirm his way to safety, all thoughts forgotten except the inferno being lit on his bottom. He starts to slide forward and tries to escape, only to find himself tugged back into place a second later.
"None of that, honey," Gefin wraps his free arm around Taskin's waist and tugs him in close, hand big enough to fully engulf Taskin's hip and lock him into place. "Once you land yourself over my knee to get your cute little cheeks turned red and sore, we're done when I say we're done." To Taskin's horror, he feels Gefin shift underneath him, and then he's bent at a narrower angle as the mage lifts his knee, raising Taskin's hitherto untouched sit spots and thighs into easy reach.
"No!" he gasps, throwing a hand back in a desperate attempt to stop what is about to happen.
"Yes, sir," Gefin doesn't hesitate, simply grabs his hand and pins it to his hip where he is holding him still before he hands the first smack that covers not only his lower cheeks, which are already burning, but also his untouched sit spots. Taskin wails. Another smack, followed by another, and another. Taskin kicks and cries, but there's no escape from Gefin's unerring aim, and he lands ten spanks before he pauses. He folds the fingers of Taskin's hand that he's holding into his own and rests his other hand on Taskin's thigh just below where he's smacked.
Taskin squirms and whimpers, trying to push up, but the mage gently holds him down. "Shh, honey, settle," Gefin rubs his thumb back and forth softly on the sensitive skin where his hand is resting. "We're gonna have that talk now, Taskin. You ready to tell me what's the matter?"
He takes a shuddery breath and shakes his head, still feeling like his brain is full of sparkles and not many thoughts. Immediately after shaking his head, he tenses, expecting the spanking to start up again, but Gefin just strokes his warm hand up and down his thigh, hushing him again.
"Breath, honey, just take a minute." He sits further back on the couch, tugging Taskin with him, so that his upper body and legs are fully supported, lying over Gefin's lap instead of hanging over his knee. He continues to rub Taskin's thighs, and then his back, though noticeably not rubbing any of the heat from his burning cheeks, even when Taskin wiggles and tries to entice him to. Eventually, Taskin manages to take a couple of deep breaths and goes limp. Gefin chuckles, and he can feel it through his whole body.
"That's it. Good. Keep breathing." They sit like that in silence for another couple of Taskin's deep breaths, and then Gefin speaks again. "Why don't I tell you what I think, hm? You can just agree or disagree."
That's easy. He nods.
"I know you miss your boy, but that can't be all this is," Gefin says thoughtfully. "Are you stressed about the Marquise?"
He shakes his head vehemently.
"No? Okay. I know you're getting bored, is that it?"
A shrug. That's not as easily answerable; yes, he's bored out of his mind. But that didn't cause today.
"Yeah, okay," Gefin chuckles again. "Well, honey, that's good, actually. If you'd been planning to go put yourself in danger 'cause you were bored, I think you'd find yourself back over someone's knee when Kuri gets home, and I don't think our sore boy is going to want that, hm?" He pats Taskin's sore cheeks for the first time, and though he does so incredibly gently, it still sends warning sparks across Taskin's butt.
Absolutely not, he does not want that. Even the idea is enough to finally loosen his tongue. "M-my head's all buzzy," he mutters into the couch.
There's silence for a moment, but thoughtful, not ominous, and then Gefin sighs. "And Kevian usually takes care of that for you, doesn't he, honey?"
"Y-yeah," Taskin chokes out in the affirmative, but that's all he gets out before he dissolves into tears again, this time soft and heartfelt. He starts to bury his face into the cushion in front of him, but finds himself lifted and turned into Gefin's sturdy chest instead, his tears soaking his lover's shirt. The big mage hums to him softly and rubs his back until he quiets.
"Honey, why didn't you just say something?" Gefin asks. "Surely there is something we could have done to help before it got to this point."
"Probably," he admits softly. "I just…I wanted Kevian. I miss him so much, Gefin."
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