Letting Go

Summary: Follows About Responsibility. Neil is feeling guilty about something. Getting it out of him proves more difficult than it should be
Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers for the whole movie; AU; violence; references to torture; sexual situations between two men
Pairing: The Protagonist/Neil
Author’s Note: This idea comes from a conversation with TheCarlySutra, so she deserves at least half the credit for this fic. I did want to write a more lighter storyline, but this plot bunny bit and now won’t let go

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A quiet whimper woke him.

The Protagonist opened his eyes, taking in the dark room. He took stock of everything in moments, making sure they were alone. That Neil was still curled in his arms. That there were no guns trained on either of them. No hitmen, or women, lurking in the shadows.

The whimper came again and he looked down, at Neil’s head that was pressed into his chest. He stroked his fingers through the other man’s hair; touched his cheek. “You’re dreaming, Neil. Wake up.”

Neil stirred. Opened his eyes. Lifted his head from the Protagonist’s chest and blinked blearily at him. “I woke you up? I’m sorry.”

“Bad dreams?” The Protagonist reached over and switched the bedside lamp on, covering Neil’s eyes with his hand and closing his own.

“Yeah.” Neil pushed his hand away and leaned over, picking up his watch and glancing at the face. “It’s past four am.” He sighed and rubbed a hand at his face. “I need a drink,” he muttered.

“I hope you mean water and not alcohol.”

Snorting softly, Neil shook his head and dropped his watch back on the table before stretching out, resting his head on the Protagonist’s shoulder. “I’d tell you that it’s still technically the middle of the night, but I’m too tired for an argument.”

“You had a nightmare.”

“It’s not my first.” Neil nuzzled into his chest. “I doubt it’ll be my last.”

“I haven’t heard you have nightmares before now.” He frowned.

“Not in this lifetime,” Neil muttered.

The Protagonist shook his head. His lover wasn’t looking at him; was making sure he didn’t make eye contact. It was obvious he was hiding something. “Did Ives ask you to do something on this last mission?”

“You were right there with me on the mission,” Neil replied. “How could I have done anything without your say-so?”

“You’re lying to me. I wasn’t there for the whole mission,” the Protagonist pointed out. “There was plenty of time for you to do something for Ives without running it by me first.” He paused. “You can’t even look me in the eye, Neil. I know you’re lying to me.”

“Not telling you something isn’t the same as lying to you.”

“Lying by omission is still lying.” He touched Neil’s face; grasped the other man’s chin and raised it so that they’d make eye contact. “What did Ives ask you to do?”

Neil swallowed hard and glanced down, avoiding eye contact. “He didn’t ask me to do anything that I wasn’t prepared to do. That I haven’t done before.”

The Protagonist sighed. He rubbed his hand down Neil’s back, feeling the tension bunched under his skin. “This isn’t how I want to spend today, but you’re going to force my hand, aren’t you? Get up. I want you standing in the corner.”

Neil levered himself up and looked into the Protagonist’s eyes. “It’s four in the morning.”

“I didn’t ask for a commentary on the time.” He delivered a firm smack to Neil’s backside; watched his lover wince in response. “Corner. Now.”

Neil took a deep breath and pushed himself up. He walked over to the corner and stuck his nose into it.

The Protagonist watched his lover for a few moments, allowing himself to take in the curve of his spine; the swell of his buttocks. The lean, muscled body that belonged to him. Even though Ives was able to borrow Neil, the Protagonist wanted to make it clear that borrowing was all he could do. And that meant making it clear that Ives didn’t have any more hold over Neil than the Protagonist allowed him to.

He was going to prove that to Neil now.

The Protagonist stood and pulled his clothes on. He kept his eyes focused on Neil’s body, taking in the utter stillness of his lover. Neil seemed to have no qualms about being stood there naked. His whole body was relaxed. It was tempting, so tempting, to reach out and grasp his hips. To pull Neil against his chest. To kiss and caress his lover and forget all about what Neil was hiding from him.

But he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t let Neil get away with hiding and keeping things from him.

Once he was dressed, the Protagonist stacked the pillows in a pile on the bed and then picked up his belt. He tapped the leather gently against his palm and turned to watch his lover. Finally, he spoke. “Turn round. Come here. Bend over the pillows.”

Neil turned round slowly to face the Protagonist. He walked over to the bed and leaned over, positioning himself on the pillows and shuffling forwards until his backside was the highest point of his body. Then, he spoke in a quiet voice. “Don’t blame Ives for this. He’s never told me to keep anything from you. This was all on me.”

The Protagonist didn’t reply with words. Instead, he moved to Neil’s side. Placed his hand on his lover’s back. He lifted the belt and let it fall in a hard strike against Neil’s pale buttocks, leaving behind a wide pink mark.

Drawing in his breath sharply, Neil gripped the comforter tight. He let out the same breath in a harsh gasp as the belt landed a second time, just below the first stripe.

For a little while, the only sounds in the room were those of the belt landing against bare skin and Neil’s quiet gasps and groans, each one matching to a strike from the belt. After ten strokes, he began to shift from one foot to the other, his body writhing and squirming in response to the harsh punishment.

The Protagonist didn’t pause until Neil’s backside was a bright red in colour, bordering on crimson. Then, he began to rub his lover’s lower back, listening to the quiet hitches in breath. “What did Ives tell you to do?”

“I don’t want to come back here and have to talk about my missions,” Neil protested. “I just want to be with you. Why is it so important that I tell you everything?”

“I don’t expect you to tell me everything.” Putting his belt down, the Protagonist sat down on the bed. He grasped Neil’s wrists and gave a sharp tug, pulling his lover across his lap. “What I expect you to tell me is when something happens and it affects you to the point that you’re having nightmares about it.” He lifted his hand and began to smack firmly, working his way over every inch of Neil’s backside, from the crest down to mid-thigh.

Neil yelped and began to squirm, only held in place by the Protagonist’s arm wrapped around his waist. “I have to do bad things sometimes!” he yelled out.

The Protagonist paused and began to rub Neil’s bottom, feeling the heat radiating from the punished skin. “What bad thing did you do this time?”

Neil just shook his head, a quiet sob escaping his lips.

After rubbing a bit longer, the Protagonist resumed firmly smacking the bottom that rested across his lap. Neil’s cries erupted, rising and falling to match the smacks that were delivered to his scarlet bottom. His legs began to kick and he sobbed.

Once again, the Protagonist paused the spanking. Once again, he rubbed Neil’s bottom, feeling the heat, and asked, “What aren’t you telling me?”

“You’ll be ashamed of me!” Neil burst out.

“You’re not the only one who has done bad things,” the Protagonist stated. “I won’t be ashamed of you for doing something you had to.” He rubbed a bit longer. “You’re mine, Neil. Ives doesn’t get to keep you. Only to borrow you. Only as long as I let him borrow you. You understand?” He lifted his leg, exposing the creases between buttocks and thighs, and began to turn them the same shade of red as the rest of his bottom.

Neil gasped out a sharp cry and slumped limp over the Protagonist’s lap. “I’m sorry,” he gasped out through his tears.

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to be honest.”

Neil nodded and spoke in a weary tone. “I will,” he whispered. “But I think you’ll still be disappointed in me. Ashamed of me.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” The Protagonist rubbed Neil’s lower back, down over his bottom, ignoring the sharp indrawn take of breath when he touched the punished skin. “You have more memories of working with me than I have of working with you. You must know I’ve done some pretty bad things too.”

“I don’t know that much,” Neil admitted, his voice thick with tears. “There’s a lot you didn’t tell me.”

“Like how I really feel about you. I never told you that I loved you.”

“I never needed to hear it.” Neil drew in a deep breath as the Protagonist’s fingers moved over his scarlet thighs. “But I’m not saying it isn’t good to hear it,” he added.

“Good.” The Protagonist rested his hand on Neil’s right buttock, rubbing it gently. “But let’s stop talking about me. What happened, Neil? What did Ives ask you to do?”

“It wasn’t his fault,” Neil whispered. “He didn’t tell me to…to….”

“To what?”

“We needed information.” Neil took in a deep breath and put his hands behind his back.

The Protagonist took his hands, squeezing them tightly. He continued to rub Neil’s bottom with his other hand. “What kind of information?”

“There were some prisoners. Soldiers, being held,” Neil answered. “They were going to be executed. And Ives had a soldier from the other side in custody. A man who knew where the prisoners were being held.” He hesitated. “We needed information.”

“So you interrogated him.”

“I did a lot more than just interrogate him.”

The Protagonist nodded. “You tortured him. Forced him to give up the information. And now it’s tearing you up inside.”

Neil lay in silence, his hands still in the Protagonist’s. After a few seconds, he said, “I did the right thing. I know I did the right thing.”

“That doesn’t mean it can’t affect you.” The Protagonist squeezed his hands; rubbed his back and over his bottom. “And maybe that’s a good thing. Because the day it stops affecting you is the day you’ve changed. And maybe you won’t be able to change back. The guilt you feel is what makes you a good man.”

“I don’t feel like a good man.”

“I know. But you are. You can’t let the actions you take scar your soul.” The Protagonist rubbed Neil’s back and bottom a bit more. “But because I know it’s still going to affect you, because I know it’s hurt you deep inside, I’m going to give you a final six strokes. Six of the best.”

“You have a cane?” Neil twisted round to look at him, his eyes red and his cheeks tear-stained.

“I have a walking stick.” The Protagonist shrugged. “I figure it’ll work more or less the same.” He gently patted Neil’s lower thigh. “Get up. Back into position.”

Neil stood up and then, when the Protagonist did as well, he moved forward and bent himself back over the pillows.

The Protagonist walked over to one of the other corners of the room and retrieved his walking stick. It was wider than a normal cane, but he figured he could strike with less force. He wouldn’t break his lover, even if the six strikes would be painful.

Returning to Neil’s side, the Protagonist rested his hand on the other man’s lower back and raised the stick, bringing it down in a firm stroke at the crest of his bottom.

Neil yelped, his fingers clenching tight in the comforter. The second stroke landed just below the first and he began to sob. They increased in strength and force as the Protagonist delivered the six promised strikes and his lover slumped over the pillows, crying hard.

Sitting down on the bed next to him, the Protagonist wrapped his arms tight around Neil and pulled his lover into his arms, stroking his shaking back.

They sat like that for several long minutes, Neil’s tears slowly dying down to soft sobs and sniffles. He wrapped his arms around the Protagonist’s waist and hid his face against his stomach. “Thank you,” he whispered. “For not letting me get away with this. For pushing me to tell you and punishing me when I don’t.”

“I love you.” The Protagonist kissed Neil’s hair and leaned back, drawing the other man down onto his chest. He wrapped his arms around his lover’s waist, rubbing the base of his spine.

“I don’t think I can go back to sleep now.” Neil nuzzled into his shoulder and then raised his head, kissing the Protagonist’s lips.

The Protagonist returned the kiss, angling his head to deepen it, nipping gently at Neil’s lips. “We don’t need to sleep.”

“You sure?” Neil moved his hands to the Protagonist’s waist, tugging his pants down. He slid his hands between the Protagonist’s legs and grasped hold of his erection, kissing him hard and deeply.

The Protagonist slid his hand down, gently rubbing his lover’s heated backside, and Neil moaned into his mouth.

The pain was over now. They could worry about healing now.

The End