Unwholesome Things - Part 5

Beta by LP, all remaining mistakes are entirely my fault.

The neighborhood Rezo was taking him to wasn't the worst Oren had ever been to; however, previously he had the luxury of remaining safely inside a vehicle that was only passing through. The tiny houses were crowded together and only a few had private drives. There were bars on the windows and cracks in the paint on more of them than not. The only positive sign Oren could see was that they appeared to be free from bullet holes; at least any that he was able to see from the road.

They came to a stop across from a house that, while it did have a driveway, it and all the parking spaces in front were taken by cars nearly as bad as Rezo's. The lack of parking was apparently bad enough that they'd felt the need to park several pick-up trucks on the lawn.

Oren wanted to go home.

“You'll be fine,” Rezo said, apparently noticing Oren's nerves as he turned off the ignition.

“I don't know, maybe—”

“I promised I'd be here by 8:30 and it's closer to 9:30, so let's hurry.” Rezo's tone wasn't unkind, and it lessened the harshness of the admonishment.

Rezo exited the car before Oren could protest further.

It took considerable effort, but Oren managed to pry himself from the car. Before Rezo decided to do it for him.

By the time Oren crossed the street, the property had become as full of people as it was of cars. Rezo was smothered with greetings and hugs. Accustomed to living in a quiet house with only Norman and (rarely) his parents, Oren was immediately overwhelmed. It took him back to the noise and the chaos of a new semester at boarding school, before everyone settled into their rooms and their cliques. Oren always had a tendency to remain at the bottom of the social hierarchy.

Rezo introduced him to everyone, some of the names Oren couldn't even pronounce let alone remember. It was becoming clear to him, that despite the supposed elite education he'd received, his worldview was really very small. Not only did he know nothing about Rezo's culture, but some of the older people were conversing in a language Oren didn't even recognize. He was glad that no one tried to hug him, but the curious stares he received made him almost as uncomfortable.

“There is someone I would like you to meet, someone who's very special to me,” Rezo said. There was a warmth in his voice, as if in anticipation of that person's presence.

Oren knew who that someone was before Rezo pointed her out. She was bounding toward them, comprised of smiles and shiny black hair. She was at least a head shorter than Oren, with a frame that despite its leanness, still managed to jiggle in all the ways that straight men liked. Her dark eyes flashed and her olive skin was smooth and perfect.

She also wasn't shy. She greeted Rezo by jumping into his unfortunately receptive arms.

So Rezo was—as Oren had suspected all along—straight.

Not that it mattered.

Not at all.

After an agonizingly long display of affection (which thankfully stopped before their mouths became involved), they finally remembered that Oren existed.

“Oren, this is Marikit, or as I call her ‘Potpot’.” There was mischief in his voice as he said this and she rewarded him with an easily dodged swat. Oren would have enjoyed it more if she'd had better aim.

“Hey! That was your nickname not mine! Do you want me to call you Kikay?”

“If you really think it suits me…”

While there must be worse things to endure than having to watch them flirt and exchange private jokes, it was hard to imagine what. Oren had no idea what they were talking about. How was it possible that he managed to remain an outsider everywhere? Eventually he would have to fit in somewhere, if only by the laws of probability.

Marikit looked to be of the same ethnicity as Rezo, the one that Oren was too ignorant to even guess. He felt the gap between himself and Rezo widening. Not only was Rezo never going to go out with him because he was straight, but also because they had absolutely nothing in common. He would date and ultimately marry someone like Marikit—or Potpot, or Kikay, or whatever the hell her name was. Not some pale, pervert that he constantly had to smack around to keep in line.

“This is Oren,” Rezo said. “He's the artist I told you about.”

For the first time Marikit gave her attention to Oren. “Oh yes … I've heard all about you and your…” she paused to let out a small feminine laugh, “drawings.”

So not only did Rezo have a girlfriend, but he also spent time making fun of Oren's drawings with her.

In school Oren had once read about a tribe of people that had the ability to will themselves to death. Today he learned, that while he didn't share that ability, it certainly wasn't from a lack of trying.

“I'm going to get some drinks, water ok?” Rezo asked.

“Sure,” Oren managed to force out the word, which was especially difficult now that he'd discovered his tongue was made of paste.

Once Rezo left, Oren felt an immediate rush of relief. Now that he was alone with Mari-whatever, he had the perfect opportunity to escape without a scene.

“I'm not feeling well. Will you tell Rezo I went home?”

She turned her head sideways as if he was some kind of alien species that needed to be examined from another angle. Oren wished he was more socially adept, then he would have come up with a more plausible excuse.

“Ok…” she said finally, dragging the word out as if Oren had just said something very strange.

Oren didn't care what she thought at this point. “Thanks,” he said, as he walked quickly away. As soon as he got around the corner he would call Norman and have him bring the car. It took all of his will power to keep to a fast walk until he was out of her line of sight.

Once he got around the corner he pulled his cell from his pocket and activated the touch screen.

So there it was—failure. He had failed to hang out with Rezo like a normal person. And all of Rezo's family and friends would know because he'd left in less than five minutes. The most embarrassing part was how arrogant he'd been. He'd thought he had plenty of time to decide whether he liked Rezo or not. But as usual, Rezo made all the decisions—for both of them.

Oren jumped when a hand reached out and touched his arm.

“Where are you going?” Rezo asked.

“I'm sick, I have to go home.” Oren kept his eyes on his phone's screen.

“Then I'll drive you.”

“No, that's ok, I'll just call Norman.”

“What's going on?” Rezo asked, his voice had the remarkable quality of sounding both concerned and firm at the same time.

Oren finally looked at him. The determination he saw in Rezo's dark eyes made it clear that he wasn't going to go anywhere until Oren gave him an answer he considered reasonable.

Oren folded his arms in a preliminary line of defense. “I feel really out of place.”

“You've been here two minutes.”

“That's long enough.”

Rezo frowned. “Is it because of how many people are here? I didn't realize there would be this many, but it seems to have turned into a cook-out-social-event kind of thing.”

“That's only part of it.”

“What else then?”

Oren turned away from him. The screen on his phone had returned to hibernation mode.

“I'm going home,” Oren said, as he reactivated the touch screen.

Rezo turned Oren back to face him; his touch was much gentler than it had been in the parking lot. He put his fingers under Oren's chin, tipping his head to search his face. Oren wanted the contact to mean more than it did.

“It's what she said about the drawings, isn't it?”

“Kind of.” It was easier to agree to that than to admit to anything else.

“Kikay talks too much and doesn't think sometimes. She's the only one that knows about the drawings and I didn't tell her about anything else that happened.”

“Yet it still managed to amuse her.”

“She was teasing you, she teases everyone.” Rezo withdrew his hand from Oren's face. “So will you come back now?”

“I already left. It would look weird if I suddenly returned.”

“No one will notice.”

“She—whatever her name is—will.”

“Kikay, is what she goes by, Marikit is her name.”

“What about Potpot?”

“Don't ask.”

Oren spent a moment deliberating, but it was mostly pretense. Something about Rezo made him want to agree to almost anything he requested, which was a very dangerous thing. Especially if Rezo ever figured it out.

With an exaggerated sigh, Oren put his phone back into a pocket. “Alright, but if I change my mind, will you take me home?”

“Immediately.”

When they returned, Rezo was right, no one seemed to notice that Oren had left. Together they entered the back yard to see what needed to be done. There was a lot more work than Oren had expected. For a small yard, the tree to land ratio was astonishingly high. Not only did the trees have to be chopped down, but they then had to be cut into much smaller pieces. Then they would be loaded into the trucks and hauled away to someone else's house, where they were destined to be fed to a chipper. Or something. Oren was too busy being overwhelmed to pay too much attention.

Oren was assigned to gathering up smaller branches and carrying them to the trucks. At first he thought this was one of the easier tasks, but he soon discovered he was greatly mistaken. Collecting the leafy branches wasn't the problem. It was the spiders, webs, caterpillars, dirt and occasional slime that lurked beneath them. He couldn't recall ever experiencing something more unpleasant than the feel of a slug between his fingers. After that vile discovery he examined each branch very carefully before cautiously picking it up. As a result he was working much slower than everyone else, but he didn't care. It was much better to be safe. They couldn't expect much from him; after all, he was free labor.

Once the trucks were loaded for the first trip, a number of men prepared to ride along to help unload it. There wasn't enough room for Oren, even with Rezo taking several passengers in his car.

Rezo pulled Oren aside. “Will you be alright here by yourself?”

“I'll be fine.” He was somewhat insulted by the question. He could handle fifteen minutes of solitude without breaking down into a cowardly snit.

“All right, then just work on clipping the branches into smaller pieces while we're gone. It won't be more than an hour at most. There are sodas in the fridge if you want one.”

An hour?

“No problem.” Oren tried to keep the dismay out of his voice.

He must have been successful, for Rezo only nodded and walked back to the trucks.

While the men went to the front to get into the trucks, everyone else appeared to be leaving as well. A woman attempted to explain where they were going to him, but Oren wasn't very good at understanding her accent. After a few painful attempts at failed communication, Oren just pretended he knew what she was talking about. He doubted they were going to suddenly make any progress and it didn't really matter anyway. Everyone was leaving, he was staying here: that was all he needed to know.

It was very strange being alone in another person's yard.

The brush pile loomed oppressively before Oren. There was a disheartening amount of it left. The gardening service they used at home would be capable of doing this in considerably less time than it was taking Rezo's entire group of friends and family combined.

He decided to take a break and drink one of the sodas Rezo had offered. As Oren entered the kitchen he was surprised to discover he wasn't alone. Sitting at the kitchen table was a teenage boy, one whose name he possibly even remembered.

“Hi…Nick?”

“That's right. And you're Oren? Rezo's friend?”

“Yeah, I was just grabbing a soda and then I'm going back to work,” Oren said, feeling the need to justify why he was in their house.

“I wish I wasn't stuck in here. You're lucky you get to be outside.”

Oren couldn't agree less. “How did you manage to get out of it?”

“I'm studying for a really important exam.” He raised a fist in a mock call to action. “My scholarship depends on it.”

“I'd trade you if I could. It's hot and there are bugs everywhere.”

Nick laughed then turned his attention back to his schoolwork. Oren took a soda out of the fridge.

“If you want to take a break,” Oren said. “You could chop up branches for me for the next forty-five minutes.” He was only partially joking.

“Yeah, but it's not like you could study for me.”

The next words came without time for consideration. “I could pay you.”

Nick gave him a strange expression and for a moment Oren thought he'd said something inappropriate.

“I couldn't accept money for something like that.”

“How about a trade then?” Oren tried to imagine what a normal teenager might want. “Do you like video games?”

“Yeah, but I don't have anything to play them on.”

“What do you mean you don't have anything?”

“I know,” Nick shrugged as if to show he understood how ridiculous it was but that he was powerless to do anything about it. “I've wanted an Xbox forever, but my parents are old fashioned.”

“Seriously?” That was horrible. How deprived would a child have to be, to not own even one gaming system? Oren barely played video games at all and he still had almost every system on the market.

Something had to be done about this. “Tell you what, you do my job me for until just before they get back, and I'll buy you an Xbox 360.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I'm serious.” Oren did his best to project sincerity. “You don't know how much air conditioning means to me right now.”

“You're really serious?” Nick closed his textbook, hope beginning to flare in his eyes.

“Just promise not to tell Rezo.” Oren wasn't sure why, but he had a feeling that he wouldn't approve. It was always better to be safe and not test the theory.

“It's a deal.”

After briefly explaining his job to Nick, Oren took his soda into the living room. He collapsed into the worn recliner next to the air conditioner in the window. It was loud and not as effective on the whole house as a central unit, but it felt incredible to be able to adjust the cool air to blow directly on him. Every muscle in his body relaxed into the chair. The soreness in his backside had faded and was now no worse than any his other aching muscles.

The small living room was decorated with old furniture and colors that didn't quite match. At least it was clean. When he got home he'd ask Norman for the name of a professional decorator to recommend to them.

He was so comfortable it took several minutes for his thirst to become strong enough to convince him to move to retrieve his soda from the table. He'd only taken one sip of generic lemon-and-lime beverage when Rezo walked in the door.

“What's going on?” Rezo asked. His tone left much to be desired.

Oren jumped out of the chair in the hope that if he moved fast enough, it would appear as if he'd never been there at all.

“Why are you back?” There was no way that he'd been gone an hour.

“I decided to stay and help you, but—”

“I thought you had to drive?” The question was less directed at Rezo and more of a general plea to the universe to somehow make it so.

“I helped them load up and then I let Kikay borrow my car. Why is Nick doing your work?”

“He offered to help me out and let me take a short break, I was only going to take ten minutes and then I was going to go back out there. I swear.”

“That's all it was?” Rezo's eyes weighed heavily on Oren. He felt as if they were trying to crush the truth from his soul.

“Yes.”

From Rezo's expression, Oren could tell that wasn't the correct answer.

“So now you're lying to me as well.”

“I'm not—”

“Nick told me you promised to buy him an Xbox if he did the work for you.”

Damn. “Why did you ask me a question that you already knew the answer to?” Oren knew deflection wasn't likely to work—but it was all he had.

“Nick is supposed to be studying. If his exam wasn't extremely important he would already be helping.”

“So you're testing me now? Asking trick questions?”

Rezo strode over to him, spun him around and landed a solid swat on the seat of his jeans.

Oren was mortified. The parking lot was bad enough, but being beaten at another person's home was unthinkable. Ground rules were going to have to be established about this kind of thing. Although judging from Rezo's expression now wasn't the best time to bring it up.

“Outside. Now.” Rezo slowly began to raise his arm in case Oren proved disobedient.

Oren's heart sped up, but he didn't move immediately. He refused to be cowed. A moment before it was too late, Oren jerked his arm away from Rezo and stormed past him out of the house.

Outside, Nick was still holding the clippers, but he was fidgeting nervously with them instead of working on the brush. Rezo ignored Oren and went directly to Nick.

“I can't believe you were willing to accept an Xbox for so little work. The right thing to do would have been to refuse. Get back to your studies or I'll tell your father about this.”

Oren watched as Nick did as he was told without any argument. It was eerie to witness a teenager being so compliant.

“Rezo it was my idea, he didn't—” Oren said.

“Not one word from you.” Rezo pointed at Oren as if there could be any doubt as to who he was speaking to.

There was a part of Oren that slightly liked being spoken to like that, even in front of another person. That part of him had no business being involved in the current discussion, and Oren ruthlessly crushed the feeling underneath his outrage. Rezo had no right to treat him like this. He wasn't his father.

“Don't tell me to shut up. If you're going to scold someone, you need to at least make sure you have the right person,” Oren said.

“Don't worry about it,” Nick said, before a very irritated Rezo could respond. “I do need to get back.” He gave Oren a quick smile and retreated into the house.

“Why are you being such an ass about this?” Oren asked, once Nick was back inside. “I know an Xbox was overkill, but I was trying to be nice.”

Rezo didn't answer, instead he pulled his knife from his pocket and flicked it open.

Oren took a step back. He'd finally done it—he'd provoked Rezo to murder.

Instead of doing something more sinister with the knife, Rezo only selected a branch from the pile and cut it to a shorter length. Any relief Oren felt was completely squelched when Rezo began stripping the leaves and off shoots from it. Oren had read far too much erotica not to know exactly what this meant.

“With as much school work as he has, he doesn't need a distraction like an Xbox—and don't call me an ass.”

“Ok, I'm sorry. I was wrong.” Oren's words didn't seem to have an affect on Rezo, who continued to prepare the switch. “You're not really going to do that here, are you?”

“Not right here.” Rezo's voice was calm again, but still determined. “In the garage.”

“Come on, I'm getting back to work now, I only stopped for a few minutes.” Oren was shifting from foot to foot nervously. This was much worse than a single swat in the house. “Don't do this.”

“I don't want to hear it. You tried to get out of work, you interrupted Nick's studies and then you lied. End of story.” Rezo experimentally swished the the branch through the air. While the sound made Oren cringe, it seemed to meet with Rezo's approval.

“Wait, if Nick isn't getting punished, then why do I have to be?”

“This isn't about Nick.”

“You can't do this here.”

“No one will be back for another forty-five minutes or so. Let's go.”

“Please wait,” Oren took a breath to get control of the whine in his voice, “just till you take me home.”

“No.” Rezo was half way to the building before he noticed Oren wasn't following. “Are you going to make me drag you to the garage?”

Oren didn't answer. He was trying to decide what his chances of escape would be if he ran. Some was always better than none.

Oren took one step towards freedom but was abruptly stopped when Rezo grabbed his wrist.

One day Oren would learn to beware of the danger of hesitation.

Rezo pulled Oren toward the garage. Once they were inside Rezo shut the door and flipped on the lights. Despite the name, the building looked like it had never been used to house a vehicle of any kind. Instead it was filled with boxes, lumber and power tools.

“Brace yourself against the work bench,” Rezo said, he pointed to it with the switch in what Oren considered to be an unnecessarily cruel gesture. Oren had no intention of making any move toward the bench.

“I don't want to do this here.”

“Oren…” With one hand on his hip and the other holding the threatening object, Rezo looked very imposing.

“Ok, I get it, you're going to spank me. But not here.”

“Why do you always insist on doing things the hard way?”

Oren had very little time before Rezo decided to help him get into position. He had to get through to him, even if he had to beg. This was too important to him. It wasn't like Rezo hadn't seen him at his worst already.

“I'm not trying to get out of it. All I'm asking you to do is wait.”

Rezo moved to hold the switch in both hands, his brow furrowed with what Oren could only hope was indecision.

“Please.”

Rezo sighed. Then he tossed the switch onto the work bench.

“Don't think you're getting out of this. When we get back to your place you're in serious trouble.”

The rush of relief Oren felt was intense. Without thinking about it Oren grabbed Rezo and pulled him into a tight embrace.

Rezo's torso was stiff, and his arms hovered out to his sides. For a moment he seemed paralyzed, then he slowly brought his hands up to awkwardly pat Oren's back.

“Thank you,” Oren whispered into the side of Rezo's head, his lips brushing soft hair and skin that hadn't entirely lost the scent of aftershave.

“Just don't make me regret it,” Rezo said, as he disentangled himself from Oren.

“I won't.” Oren smiled at him.

Oren let himself out of the garage, grateful to have actually had some degree of control over his punishment for once. Rezo didn't follow immediately, but Oren wasn't willing to press his luck by going back to find out why.

The rest of the day Oren worked much harder than he had previously. Partially because he was in a better mood after getting out of a switching, but also because he hoped he would receive clemency for good behavior. Really, other than the insect factor, the work wasn't too horrible. The other people seemed friendly enough, and the task prevented him from having to make too much conversation. By the time they had the trucks loaded up for the last trip, there was a very visible amount of progress that had been made. It was satisfying to see how much they'd done.

Oren never thought he'd look forward to getting into Rezo's awful car. But his hands and arms ached and he had dirt and sweat caked in places he didn't want to think about. Rezo's appearance, however, only seemed to improve when he was dirty and sweaty.

“We did a lot today,” Rezo said.

“Another thing I can add to my resume,” Oren said with a smirk.

“I'm sure it'll come in handy when you apply for your next job as a professional landscaper, or gardener or—”

“Lumberjack?”

“That too.” Rezo grinned at him as he pulled the car out onto the road. It was strange how instead of being offended by Oren's cynicism, Rezo always managed to find a way to turn it around and tease him with his own words. Most things that drove other people crazy seemed to have almost no effect on Rezo. Of course, it probably took that level of tolerance to be around someone as temperamental as Oren.

“Might not be that bad, as long as none of those forests or gardens have any slugs.”

“There must be plenty of slug-less places for you to choose from.”

Oren rolled down his window, it didn't seem to help much with the heat. He felt like he was in a massive, rolling, portable oven.

“You should sell this car and buy a new one with air conditioning.” The words were out before Oren remembered he wasn't supposed to say anything else about the death trap.

“I'll get right on that,” Rezo said, giving him an unfriendly look.

Oren decided to change the subject. There was no sense in angering Rezo when there was a potential spanking waiting for him at home.

“So does your family always help each other out like this?”

“Yeah, all the time. Part of the reward of being young and male is we get conscripted into all the jobs that require heavy lifting or dirt. What does your family do when they need stuff like this done?”

“Pay someone else.”

“Ah.”

After that they drove in silence, until they pulled into Oren's circle driveway. Rezo switched off the ignition and undid his seat belt.

It was now confirmed, the only reason Rezo would come inside was if Oren was going to get spanked. Oren repressed the urge to argue, he had made a deal and he would have to keep his end of the bargain. At least Rezo hadn't brought the switch. Although that didn't necessarily free Oren from that danger; trees had the annoying habit of being everywhere.

Before Oren could unlock the door, Norman opened it, even though he was officially off duty.

“Welcome home sir, and Mr. Diaz.”

“Hey,” Oren said.

“Hi, how are you Mr. Chase?”

Oren rolled his eyes at Rezo's formality.

“Fine, thank you and how are you Mr. Diaz?”

“Fine, thank you.”

It was nauseating listening to Rezo fraternize with the help. He didn't want to have to listen to their litany every time they saw each other.

“We should hurry,” Oren interrupted before they started talking about something banal like the weather or their families.

Oren wasn't sure, but he thought he saw Rezo and Norman exchange a look. Regardless of whether they did or not, Norman bowed apologetically and Rezo followed Oren into the hallway.

“You're unusually eager to get your—”

“You're not supposed to be friends with servants,” Oren said, before Rezo had the chance to finish that sentence. He could only imagine the repercussions if Oren was driven to punching Rezo in the mouth.

Rezo gave him an odd look. “I guess I've never been instructed on the proper etiquette of how to talk to butlers.”

“He's a 'household manager.' Seriously, no one calls them butlers anymore.”

Rezo laughed. It had the distinct sound of laughing “at” rather than “with.”

“What?”

“Forget it.” Rezo looked like he was at least trying to get control of himself. “There's nothing wrong with being polite.”

“Whatever. Just try not to do it again.” Oren had reached his bedroom door. With an unconsciously held breath he pushed it open.

He didn't know what to expect. Oren had promised not to resist, but he wasn't sure if he could stop himself from trying to talk his way into a lesser punishment if Rezo wanted to use an implement.

His heart beat accelerated when he heard Rezo shut the door behind him.

“I'm tired and I need a shower,” Rezo said.

It took Oren a moment to purge the image of Rezo naked and wet from his mind long enough so that he could answer.

“Me too.” And how much better it would be if they could shower together. It would save time and water. Rezo would be so proud of his practical nature. After he stopped throttling him for suggesting it, of course.

“So we'll make this quick.”

“Ok,” Oren said, trying to be brave.

“Go ahead and bend over the edge of the bed.”

“With pants?” Oren asked.

“Boxers.”

Oren trudged over to the side of the bed. It felt unnatural to be going willingly into this. He paused for a moment before he undid his fly. He wanted to argue but he didn't want Rezo to never be willing to negotiate with him again. His fingers felt like rubber as he undid the button and zipper before pushing his pants down to his knees. He stood facing the bed but he couldn't quite bring himself to bend over it. It seemed too submissive to be waiting in position before Rezo actually approached.

“I'm sorry I lied to you. I just panicked when you appeared suddenly,” Oren said. He meant it although he wasn't sure what prompted him to say it.

Rezo came to stand next to him. “Then don't do it again.”

Oren was very aware of Rezo's body. He smelled good. Male. Sweat made his shirt cling to him in a way that was making it harder and harder not to touch. Oren fervently wished their relationship was something other than parental.

“Go on.” Rezo stood beside him, waiting for Oren to bend over the mattress.

Oren couldn't do it. He should—he'd promised—but it was harder than he'd thought.

Oren spun around and pressed his back to the bed. “I'm sorry, I—”

“—Am completely incapable of being cooperative?” Rezo cocked an eyebrow at him.

“That's not true, I—”

“Then bend over.”

“I can't.”

Rezo gripped Oren's upper arm to turn him towards the bed. Instead of allowing Rezo to take the lead, Oren yanked his arm out of his grasp and tried to move away from Rezo. His pants, however, hobbled him and he would have fallen except that Rezo was there to catch him. Of course, any act of heroism on Rezo's part was always swiftly followed by something intensely unpleasant.

When Oren continued to resisted being taken to the bed, Rezo switched tactics and dragged him down onto the floor. He sat down cross legged and pulled Oren to him.

“Two spankings in one day is too much!” Oren protested as Rezo forced him face down across his legs. It wasn't fair, he'd already been punished today. Where was the Rezo that actually listened to him?

“I went easy on you in the car.” Rezo yanked Oren's boxers down. “You can handle it. If you couldn't you wouldn't have offered to buy Nick an Xbox.” Rezo said it like it was a dirty word. “Do you have any sense of proportion?” Rezo's hand began to strike the lesson onto Oren's upturned bottom.

“I don't know. Why don't you tell me?” Oren said between gritted teeth, the pain not yet making an imprint on his temper. “Oh that's right—you will.”

“None. You have no sense of proportion.” Rezo's hand continued to fall, making Oren shift and grimace. “Even if it was ok to interrupt Nick, you should have just asked for his help and then done the work together.”

Rezo had meant it when he said he wanted to make it quick. He was spanking him fast and hard, with no time to recover inbetween smacks. Oren began to writhe and grunt. He could only hope it was going to be over just as quickly.

“I needed a break,” Oren said dropping the sarcasm. His voice was becoming strained. Oren set his jaw against the stinging swats, hoping to spare himself the humiliation of begging, since it never did any good anyway.

“Then take a break. You don't have to bribe people and then lie about it.” Rezo's arm across Oren's back restrained him while he worked on thoroughly warming Oren's backside.

Oren had gotten to the point where he no longer cared if he embarrassed himself or not.

“Ok, I'm sorry.”

Rezo showed no signs of slowing as pain blossomed across already bruised flesh.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” The words came out in a flood once Oren was no longer able to hold them back.

Rezo made another circuit on Oren's bottom. The sound of his palm cracking against bare skin intermingled with Oren's pleas.

Then it was over. Rezo pulled his boxers up for him and helped him to his feet. Oren nearly stumbled, forgetting to pull up his pants before trying to walk off the pain.

“That really hurt.” After his ordeal Oren had a sudden desire to be held, for someone to soothe away his pain. He turned his back on Rezo and zipped up his jeans, wincing as the fabric brushed against tender flesh. What was wrong with him? If he wasn't careful he was going to become needy.

“I'm going to get out of here.” Rezo walked toward the door.

“Ok,” Oren said, still lost in his thoughts and concentrating on attempting to rub away the stinging.

Rezo stopped with his hand on the knob. “Want to go to the park tomorrow?” he asked over his shoulder.

Oren looked up at him for a moment unsure of what to say.

“If we keep hanging out like this people are going to think we are friends,” Oren said.

“Would that be so bad?” The way Rezo was standing made his dark hair fall seductively over one eye. Oren suspected he had absolutely no idea how good he looked.

“I don't know,” Oren stopped rubbing and gave his attention to Rezo, “if I'm your friend does that mean I'm going to get beaten every week?”

Rezo chuckled. “I'm hoping this is just an adjustment period.”

“Right.” Oren rolled his eyes.

“I'll meet you on Monday.” Rezo opened the door and was gone.

Chapter Six
Master List of Chapters