PriceGaz DomSubverse Part 3
older!DomPrice | younger!SubGaz | mutual pinning, light hurt/comfort (subdrop), dad kink, spanking | Part 1 | Part 2
( I can't be normal about them & I accidentally wrote like 2.5k words, sorry)
“Will you punish me, Sir?” To say Kyle’s question caught Price off guard would be an understatement.
It had been so long since Price had cared for a Sub, since he had held one in his arms, since he had kept one in his lap, warm and soft and fragile. And fuck, Kyle was so good, so pliant. It had taken Price quite some time to soothe the pretty boy curled against him, to steady his breathing and calm the shivers.
Big hands had found his tensed neck, pressing his fingers into the hardened muscles and massaging circles, strong and persistent. Eventually, Kyle had given in and had been calm enough for Price to gently pull his head out of hiding to check his face, eyes roaming attentively over the torn expression, holding him protectively by the neck.
“Look at me, baby,” Price had commanded in a deep and anchored tone, and he had put a water bottle against the plush lips of Kyle. “Drink. Ten Sips for… me. I’ll count ‘em for you.”
Price was a coward, really, but he told himself he would not be using a title without a scene negotiation, and therefore, he would not be calling himself “dad” if Kyle had not specified that he liked that.
It was fucked up, anyway. He was fucked up.
Kyle had complied, perfectly, of course, swallowing each sip mindfully, big eyes glued to his Captains. And Price had barely been able to contain himself, trying to recall every military technique he knew to avoid a boner– unsuccessfully.
Years later, Kyle would confess it had been on purpose, but for now Price had been hypnotized by these deep glinting eyes, by his Adam’s apple bobbing, by the way he hollowed his cheeks, by the wet drops on his plump lips. His head had been spinning, but Price would not be a Captain in the military if he did not master a plethora of techniques to keep his mind clear in nerve-wracking situations.
“Very good,” He had murmured in this deep, gravelly voice he knew made Subs weak, and he had seen it in Kyle too.
Sometimes, when they came back from a mission, and Kyle was particularly tense and quiet, he rumbled a small praise into his ear when he passed by. Just for him to hear. It was not appropriate, but it could not hurt if nobody knew, right?
And now, with Kyle slowly calming down, it only took two strong arms wrapped around him and an endless stream of low, coaxing praises to take him under, to make him all sweet and settled. They had sat together, adjusting after the storm, listening to each other's breaths, Price realizing that this was the first Sub in years that was in Subspace under his care, when Kyle spoke up, voice soft but distinct.
“Will you punish me, Sir?”
“What?” Price asked carefully, readjusting Kyle in his lap to take a look at his face.
“Will you punish me, Sir?” It was a pleading request; there was desperation shimmering in Kyle’s unsure eyes.
Price was not surprised by the request itself. Internalized guilt, the feeling of being wrong, was a typical prevalent trigger of a subdrop. However, it was a very complex emotional turmoil that was nearly impossible to clear up when the Sub was still deep under in Subspace.
Back in Price’ day, it had been fairly common to enforce a mild punishment. It acted like a bandage, resolving the feeling of internalized guilt in the short term, unraveling the emotional pain of the Sub for the moment to ease them in subspace.
There was always still plenty of time to sort out the real issue later.
However, Price had not expected Kyle to resort– hell, know of– these old guard methods. And, while the Captain himself had witnessed this method to be useful, they had not negotiated anything, not even a safe word, nothing.
“Kyle– no. You do not need to be punished. You did nothing wrong.”
Kyle shifted with unease. “I— I feel like I need to be punished, Sir,” And by his embarrassed, anxious look, Price knew from experience that the guilt was stuck to Kyle, weighing down on his chest, making it hard to breathe.
“I’m not a fan of punishing you, kid. I do not do punishments when we never had a scene together– I need to know you first, need to learn your boundaries and your body language.” He gently caressed his forehead.
“But you do, Sir,” There was that wavering in Kyle's voice again, “There’s no one who– who knows me better than you, Sir.”
Price's heart skipped a beat. He knew the young man was right. This was Kyle, his Kyle, his best soldier, his ever-trusting Kyle that regularly put his own life in his Captain’s hands. Of course, Price knew him; he knew Kyle like his own pocket, his body language, the way he reacted to pain, to stress, to everything.
Fuck, he trusted Price so fucking much.
And Price realized how fucking much he himself truly trusted Kyle.
He struggled with himself, a deep sigh. “You have a safe word?”
“N-no?”
“Kyle–!” Price blurted, and he sounded like a father reprimanding the reckless behavior of his son. He felt like it too, seeing the million ways in which Kyle could have gotten hurt in a scene without a safeword infront of his eyes.
What kind of Doms had Kyle been with who did not care about a safe word?
Kyle tensed up and hung his head, heat crawling in his cheeks. “‘M Sorry, Sir”
“That’s not– You don’t–,” Price took a deep breath and stroked his beard to calm himself down. “You’re okay. You’re not in trouble, son.”
And there it was again, the magic word that always seemed have a grip on Kyle. A shiver traveled up his spine, and Price almost thought he felt it too.
“You familiar with the traffic lights system, are you?”
“Yes, Sir,” Kyle nodded earnestly.
“Good. Very good. Now, think you can stand? Come on– we’re going to my room”
***
Price had decided that his office was no place for punishment and adequate aftercare. Call him old-fashioned, but he knew what wonders a warm shower and fresh clothes could do after a failed mission.
With a steady hand, he led Kyle towards his room, his sergeant following him fluidly, wide, blown pupils and glassy eyes on the ground. He was still deep under, and Price knew that with every command, every moment he decided for him, every time he gently pushed Kyle in his place, he was making sure he stayed there, in this vulnerable, precious state.
What an honor it was, Price thought, when he had Kyle naked in his room, ordering him to stand steady, hands on the wall. His ass was gorgeous, round like it had been carved out, and Price knew he was definitely adding some extra exercises to his training.
He gently caressed his soft skin on his cheek and murmured in Kyle’s ear: “Didn’t know that glute exercises were part of military combat training nowadays, Sergeant.”
And when embarrassment colored Kyle’s cheeks red and he sucked in a breath, the sadist in Price could not stop himself from pinching meanly the pillowy flesh on Kyle’s ass. Kyle tensed up and let out this loud squeal, which was so adorable that Price was sure it had to be illegal, and Price kicked his feet apart, making him stumble.
He held his Sergeant by the neck until he stood steady again, and he felt the fire in him rising. He was in his element, his natural habitat, teasing and caressing his Sub, giving him a harsh and a soft side, pushing him around, and catching him again.
And a look at Kyle’s dick proved how much he was enjoying this.
Kyle was well-endowed with a long and almost elegant cock, and all Price could think about was how useless this big, stupid thing would bounce around once he had Kyle on his cock, fucking into this perfect round ass.
He pushed the thought away, massaged Kyle’s neck until he went slack again. Price had taken a big wooden ruler from his office (yes, he had a ruler in his office. Yes, he was old) and he let Kyle touch it, let him get accustomed to it.
“Color, son?” He asked, and for the first time, he did not feel bad for letting that word slip, because Kyle visibly relaxed.
“Green, Sir,” He said, and Price swore he was being pavloved into getting hard every time Kyle said “Sir”.
“You know why I’m punishing you today, Kyle? Because you’ve convinced yourself that mission was your fault.,” he made a firm pause, “It was not. Not even close.”
“I’m gonna spank you fifteen times. I’ll count ‘em for you,” Price said, because in the end, he was a soft man who loved adding a little sugar to his punishments. He came close to Kyle and studied his face.
“I need you to promise me to use your safe word. I need to trust you on that, kid,” Price spoke with the same authoritative tone he used as Captain.
“Yes, Sir. I promise,” Kyle answered sincerely.
“Good lad,” Price rumbled and watched with a smile as Kyle swallowed thickly at the praise.
The slap came without a warning, because Price could not help himself, he fucking enjoyed the surprised high-pitched squeal Kyle let out, and he drank up the way his muscles danced under his skin.
As Price had expected, Kyle was able to bear through it, even though he was deep under, breathing through it, not showing a single sign of pain– he was a special forces soldier after all.
After the third stroke, Price paused and stood close behind Kyle, barely touching, letting him sense his body heat. He touched the small of his hip, big hand wrapping around heated skin.
“Kyle,” he rumbled, calling the younger man closer to the surface, closer to consciousness, “I know what you’re doing. Let it go. You’re safe here, son. You can let it go.”
Kyle let out a breath, shaky and whiny. “Yes– Sir”
“Good boy. Go on. Let it all out for me,” Price returned to his stance behind Kyle, gave him a moment to breathe, before he whipped the piece of wood against Kyle again. This time, he earned a choked cry, Kyle’s entire body jerking under his force.
“Yes, there you go,” Price grinned. Three more strikes and Kyle was slipping, tears streaking down his face, and by the looks of it, he was floating now, losing touch with reality. So Price stepped into his space again, carefully wrapping his hand around Kyle’s neck and jaw, guiding his face away from the wall, towards him.
Fuck, what a sight. Not even his horniest dreams could have prepared Price for this.
Kyle naked, beautiful dark red streaks forming on his thick ass, arms obediently on the wall, knees shaky, and his eyes– god, these big puppy eyes– round and teary, almost cross-eyed, turning back into his skull, looking up at him. No thought behind them, just pure trust and goodness.
“Color, baby?” Price’ voice was deep and soothing.
“Green, Dad,” Kyle slurred. Price lost it, his brain stopped functioning, he choked on his breath, his heart skipped a beat– he was sure, he blacked out for a second.
He could not stop himself from turning his boy’s head to the side and biting down on the sensitive skin on his neck. He had told himself that this was a one-time thing, but here he was, burying his teeth into Kyle, leaving a mark for everyone to see.
Kyle’s yelp turned into a high moan. Kyle fucking moaned at that. And he pushed his ass back into Price's crotch, onto his cock, straining his pants, and Price just knew that the fabric brushing over his bruised skin must burn.
But his Sergeant did not seem to care. Price did not know how he did not come in his pants right then and there.
Price broke away from Kyle, stepping back into place to finish the punishment, spank after spank after spank, drinking up Kyle’s noises, the way his body moved, until Kyle went quieter, a bubbling mess, barely able to hold himself up.
And Price put the wooden ruler away and pulled Kyle in, into the warmth, into the safety, into his chest, wrapping an arm around his neck and his hip, holding him close, keeping him.
“Atta lad, good fucking boy. Took that so well, so perfect,” he drawled endless praises into his ear, “I got you, son. It’s okay, Dad’s got you.”
Finally he felt Kyle nodding subtly, shivering and body resting against him, finally believing Price words. Price swore Kyle felt lighter, but maybe it was because Kyle’s mind was floating.
“Are you goin’ sweet on me, son?” he whispered into Kyle’s ear with a small grin, holding him tightly.
It took a while until Price got his Sub into the shower, washing the dirt and sweat off him, and the warm water thawed Kyle, making him easy and submissive.
There was one moment when they stepped out of the shower, and cold air hit Kyle’s wet skin, when Kyle got disoriented, furrowing his brows, frantically resurfacing from the depths of his mind, like a diver who surfaced too quickly.
Price pulled him close again, tucking his head into his wide, hairy chest, squeezing his neck protectively, gently leading him back down, into the core of subspace, making sure he felt safe, knew that it was okay, it was good.
He wanted to have Kyle in his bed, wearing soft clothes, wrapped in warm blankets, cuddled up against him. He wanted to give him what a Sub like Kyle deserved and more.
Kyle went with him, letting his Captain dress him, drinking the bottle of water as instructed, putting on a brave face when Price massaged ointment into these deliciously red streaks, letting him take the lead, obediently following every order and every command.
And Price realized how familiar this was, how easy and comfortable they were. Kyle trusted him so much, so fucking much.
As they lay in bed, Kyle in his arms, kept and deep under, softly snoring, safe and sound, body relaxed and pliant and warm against his, a hand curled in the tender nape of his Captain– Price allowed himself just once to entertain this idea of Kyle as his Sub, under his care, his protection.
Just this once.