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True Love Equals Daddy's Belt

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He knew he was in trouble as soon as he heard his name.  HR usually called him sweethart, love latte, or any number of pet names.  His actual name preceded dire consequences.

Hartley smirked, continuing to tinker without looking at or even acknowledging HR, unashamed in what he’d done: taking a toy apart and… forgetting to put it back together.

“You most certainly didn’t forget,” HR bit down on Hartley’s ear just until before he’d break skin. “Breaking my coffeemaker, tsk tsk tsk…”

HR scooped him up from his lab and whisked him off to the bedroom.

Hartley was excited already just from the strength in HR’s arms keeping him from wriggling away.  HR tossed him onto the bed so he could close the curtains, darkening the room with a firm tug.

But Hartley wasn’t completely blinded for long.  He soon saw fangs and eyes glinting in candlelight.  He smelled oil filling the room.  Hartley heard the rustling and thump of fabric and jingling: HR’s vest and shirt disturbing his dog tags before they fell to the floor.

Hartley licked his lips as he wrestled out of his own clothes, eyes locked on HR, ready to jack off.

“Oh no, little mouse,” HR snatched up Hartley’s hands. “It’s not a punishment if it gives you pleasure.”

Hartley yelped when frosty breath hit his crotch.  With one hand pinning him down, HR reached over with the other one to cage Hartley’s now wilted cock.  It was all a blur, HR was surely using his speed—far from as fast as Barry’s, nor could he keep it up for as long as Barry, and yes Hartley reveled in that exact wording whenever he got the chance.

“Cheeky boy,” HR relished the yip that followed him pinching Hartley’s ass.  Time to wipe that smirk off his face.

HR undid his belt.  This wasn’t the sort of belt intended for play: it was too thick and made with a threaded fabric, although he savored Hartley’s shudder when he cracked it in the air.  Hartley was a thespian through and through.  He enjoyed a good show—as long as they discussed it first.

As deliberately loud as he could, HR swapped his belt for the belt he’d actually be using.  Hartley trusted HR not to harm him, and HR wanted Hartley to have the assurance that he’d never even think of doing such a thing.  Trust was paramount to what they did.

The belt HR now held in his hands was thin and leather: perfect.  This one was black, but they had some in a few different colors.  Black was something of HR’s personal color.  Black tools and toys felt like an extension of himself.  Gray was also lovely.  And of course, so was Hartley’s favorite: green.

“Flip over, sweethart.  Good…” HR ran the belt across that pale-for-now ass.  Hartley shivered again.  Oh so delightfully responsive! “Are you going to stay still on your own or would you like some help?”

“Help me!”

“Brat,” HR’s hand came down hard against the closest cheek then rubbed it. “How do good boys ask?”

“Help me please?” his lips wriggled like he’d left out a word at the last minute. Tease.

HR smiled at the prospect of drawing the word out of hiding, “Of course.”

He tied his wrists to the bedposts and his ankles and thighs together using silk with green and black hexagons.  HR positioned those tasty legs to prop up that equally tasty ass.  He double-checked that Hartley’s head had proper support before bringing his hand back to the previously touched cheek.

“I’m going to warm you up,” HR said as he fondled that cheek, bundling some flesh up in his hands. “I’ve planned on six spanks each, but would you like more?”

“No. No, thank you.”

“I can wait; we have all the time in the world, my lovely engineer.”

“You do, you immortal ass, I’m not getting any younger!” Hartley grinned.

HR smacked his previously untouched cheek, “Sounds like someone’s begging for more.”

Hartley grunted deliciously, “I’m begging you to start!”

HR chuckled, petting him, “Count for me?”

“Vampires,” Hartley rolled his eyes, smiling, happy to indulge him.

He wriggled his ass.  He’d prefer if he could also get some friction to his cock, but coming after a drought in the cage made orgasms all the more exquisite.  That was his hypothesis anyway, and any scientist worth their grant money knew that hypotheses needed to be tested over and over and over again.

The first spank shocked him out of his musings, but it hardly hurt.  It was more of a tap really.  Telling HR that—after counting, of course—earned him three smacks right in a row, but Hartley counted them all!  The last two came after HR’s hand ran across both cheeks, up into the small of his back, continuing further between his shoulder blades, then back down languidly to his ass, striking each cheek for an even spread.

Carrying the belt in one hand, HR threaded his other hand through Hartley’s hair.  HR was always so generous with touches.  Even when Hartley could barely voice his want for a hug despite his eloquence, HR got his arms around him quick.  And when everyone’s heartbeats were too loud for words, HR’s lack of one made him a haven.  HR didn’t even breathe!  Hartley always thought breathing would be most noticeable after fucking someone breathless, but his ears screeched at his naiveté.

“How are you?” HR asked, his hand not leaving Hartley’s hair as he lowered down to his knees so they were eye to glow-in-the-dark eye.

Hartley hummed, “I’m excellent!”

“Ready to begin?”

“Yes, please.”

HR raked his scalp, harvesting a sigh that became a thrum when HR thumbed his neck.  He got back to his feet and flicked his wrist to excite the belt.  Hartley rumbled when the belt trailed straight across him, giving him a few taps before painting the first stripe.  Hartley grunt-gasped.  The belt was more focused in its delivery than hands.

While Hartley was panting, HR said, “One.”

Hartley rolled his eyes after he saw both fangs in HR’s grin, “Vampires.”

“Humans,” HR cracked the belt again, smug when Hartley grunts. “Two!”

More grunts, groans, and even a yelp followed.  HR checked in again after the yelp.  Hartley smiled, nuzzling HR’s hand, words slurred, his position beginning to burn, “‘M fine; keep going…”

HR hummed thoughtfully, “I’ll give you two more.”

Hartley whined lowly.

“But then I’ll bring in your fluffy friends, and you can hold them, and we’ll cuddle; it’ll be fun!”


“Two more, Hartley Wells.”

Legally, he’d kept the Rathaway name for publication purposes, but in his heart, he’d ditched the cursed name years ago.



Hartley panted hard.  HR kept the last strike gentle.



HR’s hand found its way back to Hartley’s hair as he worked the restrained limbs free, easing him onto his stomach, “I’m going to put cream on you now, then I’ll bring in the whiskered ladies, alright?”

“Hngh…” that sounded nice…

“Hartley,” HR said more firmly. “Do you want your rats or would you prefer to rest a bit first?” HR knew the answer already—or at least the answer Hartley would say if he didn’t insist on fighting his body’s needs in order to do whatever he thought would please HR.

“Ah want, ah wan’…” Hartley sunk deeper into the bed. “‘M tire’ Da’y…”

“Sleep then, baby bean, you can play with them after you’ve rested.”


HR sped the belt away, into comfy clothes, and under the covers.  Hartley snuggled and nuzzled him.  HR kissed his forehead and rubbed his back.

HR knew exactly when those gem-like green eyes fluttered opened once again.

“Feel better?”

Hartley nodded, readjusting to sit up, pulling a pillow against the headboard.  The pain ghosted over him, but it was a relief.  It reminded him that HR would never ignore him or just only acknowledge him when he did something worthy of attention.  HR wanted to be with him all of the time!  Not just for sex or science—meals and movies and cuddling and walks through the park and trips to the library.  He even liked Annie, Jump, and Cannon.

Hartley put on some comfy long sleeves and flannel trousers while HR brought them in, as promised.  He kept his promises too instead of forgetting everything he’d said not even a day later.  And there was only one of him to remember everything, not two of them and an atrocious amount of assistants.

Annie set up camp near Hartley’s knee while Jump explored the side table, but Cannon waddled right into Hartley’s hands and curled up cozily.  They all brought an immediate smile to his face as he petted Cannon’s fuzzy caramel fur with his thumbs.

HR scooped up Jump when she nested on the buttons of the clock.  Annie climbed over to the other side of Hartley’s blanketed knee, then back over a bit to lie on both of them.  HR grazed the crook of Hartley’s neck with his teeth, taking in his scent.  Hartley released a huff of laughter through his nose.  He wasn’t ticklish, and he’d dismantle all the coffeemakers in the multiverse if anyone tried to prove otherwise!