Chapter Text
Any time Vesemir had ever seen it necessary to discipline Lambert, the pup would make himself scarce for hours afterwards. He often wouldn't appear until something else was already beginning, allowing him to slip into the events without letting anyone stop to ask him if he was okay.
Eskel didn't rush himself to the grand hall, not with the knowledge that he had plenty of time to walk along the outside path. He hoped that the cold air would clear his head.
He wanted to lock himself in a room and bring himself off while the sound of Lambert's raw gasps were still echoing in his ears. But he would be mortified to let Lambert find him stinking of his own cum after spanking him.
By the time Eskel was rooting through the pantry for a proper drink to share, Lambert was close behind, announcing his presence by setting a heavy cask on the table.
Eskel uncorked the cask and inhaled the aromatic flavours of a rich mead. "Someone paid you with mead? Smells nice." He poured the liquid into matching metal steins.
Lambert sat down, maintaining eye contact with Eskel as he sat. His skin lingered between numbed and alight with pin pricks, but the pressure of sitting down pushed the radiating heat back into his skin, making his rear feel warm beneath him.
Eskel raised a brow. His own palm felt uncomfortably hot and he was glad to be able to wrap his hand around the cool stein holding his drink. "Feeling better?"
"Yeah. The pain stopped as soon as you finished, " Lambert shrugged. It wasn't what Eskel meant, but the other didn't seem to be intentionally avoiding the question. "What do you want to talk about?"
"I want to talk about what happened." Eskel explained.
"It's fine." Lambert immediately said. His gut twisted with the thought of the talk he suddenly saw coming: a sad tone chastising his behaviour and explaining that his punishment was the only solution. He dreaded that talk, followed by the harsh warning that he had no one to blame but himself and had better not hold a grudge against anyone else for what happened. He hurried through it quickly before Eskel could say it himself, "I was out of line, I had it coming. I'm not angry, don't worry." He was nearly monologuing and starting to twist away, missing Eskel's intention by a mile.
Eskel frowned as the other tried to get through a monologue and make an escape. "All right… Gotta make sure you understand I'm not angry at you either. You had a bad attitude and I straightened that out, plain and simple."
Lambert was speechless now. This was uncharted territory. Different people had different tempers and Eskel had always been extraordinarily slow to anger, but he wasn't sure how his words could possibly be true. He didn't know how someone could possibly give him a sound thrashing without being fueled by anger or hate.
He didn't dare say anything and risk ruining it, if Eskel was telling the truth. He never wanted Eskel to be angry at him. Even after relentlessly pushing Geralt's temper, trying to force him to respond, he'd never actually wanted the anger that came with everything else.
The lingering silence encouraged Eskel to continue speaking, taking the lead and guiding the talk now, "When it comes to this, I'd like to handle it the way we did this time. You and I will go somewhere private and I'll put you over my knee for a proper spanking on your bare ass."
Lambert took a long gulp from his cup and nodded firmly, still not trusting himself to speak.
"I want to use my open hand on you. Nothing more." Eskel continued. "Is that going to be enough?"
Lambert scoffed. As far back as he could remember, no one had ever beat him with an open palm before. Folded leather belts, the wrong end of the belt with the buckle, switches, paddles, canes and fists. So many fists. But a palm? Never. Not until now.
It felt necessary to refuse it, for the principal of the matter. Because no one had ever done it before, because warm open hands had never been meant for him. He met Eskel's face with his eyes and the older wolf explained, "There's an argument for the practicality of it, that I know I'll always have it… handy." He grinned and Lambert scoffed loudly in protest. Eskel chuckled, and went on, "But really, I'd just rather use my hand than anything else."
Lambert nodded again, finally agreeing, "Yeah, that's fine." Eskel's hand was strong and calloused and probably not very different from a paddle. It wasn't really a merciful suggestion, and Eskel had proved that already by leaving a very deep heat in his bottom from only his palm.
Having finally found his voice, Lambert asked, "How are you deciding what's worth punishing?"
"It will be based on what we talk about now. For example, I propose that when you're being a jerk and you know it because you're trying to get someone to hit you... Yeah, I'm gonna haul your ass away for a spanking." Eskel explained far too casually.
Lambert was grateful for the familiar demeanor of his oldest friend even in navigating such unfamiliar subjects. It encouraged him. "All right, so when I'm asking for it. What else?"
"Well, is there anything you'd change about yourself?" Eskel offered helpfully.
"I never wanted to be a witcher," He stated bitterly.
"Yeah but I'm not going to punish you for that." The older witcher wanted to be clear on that before bringing the conversation back on course, "If you had more than a voice in the back of your head redirecting you?"
"I… wish I weren't so mean. I wish I didn't have to be drunk off my ass on white gull to say something nice to you guys." Lambert finally spilled.
Eskel nodded, thoughtfully. He commented the observation they both had surely made by now, "You're pretty different from your usual self right now." He was bared open, raw, and soft. But Eskel knew better than to say any of that.
Lambert had come when he was called, he brought the drinks, offering up mead from his own stash, and he sat here now patiently answering Eskel's questions. He was more than soft, he was submissive.
Eskel raised a brow, "Do you like the way you are right now?" Lambert swallowed but didn't break eye contact as he nodded firmly. The older witcher nodded, "That's how it will work then. You know what's expected of you. You know exactly how I'm going to punish you if you get out of line. And you have your word, if there's an emergency. Everything else is going to be my call." Eskel laid out the power exchange clearly.
"What else is there?" His dark brows came together. He didn't see any freedom to decide anything while working within the structure of those terms.
"It's my call if your shit attitude is warranted or if you're getting your ass tanned. And it's my call how hard and long I'm going to spank you." Eskel explained his own role very clearly, his eyes boring into Lambert's own unyielding and fearless gaze. Eskel continued, "You're a smart man, Lambert. You know what's appropriate and what isn't. And I know you're tough. As tough as they fucking come. I know there's nothing I could do to really hurt you with my bare hands."
Lambert scoffed and made a half smile. The compliments were subtle enough to slip in without being noticed, and stroke his ego before he could put up any defenses to deflect the praise. He took another gulp of his mead, finishing the drink before declaring, "You're not wrong."
The younger witcher put down his cup and extended his hand across the table, "All right. Let's do this." Eskel took his hand, pressing the warmth of his palm, red from tanning Lambert's backside, into the nimble hand, binding them together.