Work Text:
They’d barely seen Hongjoong all week.
He left for work before most of them got up, arrived home long after dinner, and ate the leftovers in his home office. Half the time he didn’t even come to bed, left Seonghwa to wake up alone and then find him passed out in his desk chair. Usually they would’ve had a conversation about this by now, but it was one of the most important months of his career. If he could pull his current project off, it would be life changing.
So, Seonghwa tried to be understanding. Left his dinner plate wrapped and labled in the fridge, brought him snacks when he worked from home. And, worst of all, resigned himself to sleeping alone, which he hated.
Well, not always alone. Sometimes one of the others joined, which was nice. But he wanted Joong. He wanted his mate. Because at this point, after years of being together, sleeping without his body close and his scent present was bizarre. Seonghwa found himself waking up slightly disoriented. His bed barely felt like his own.
But, once again, he was being understanding. This was only temporary.
Until one day, after nearly two weeks of generally neglecting everyone, Hongjoong finally emerged. Joined them in the kitchen, even offered to help put dinner together.
“How’s it going?” Yeosang asked. He sat on one of their kitchen stools, eating some nuts out of his hand. “We’ve missed you.”
Hongjoong breathed out a tense little laugh. “It’s going.”
“I’m surprised you’re here,” Wooyoung said. He was chopping some veggies, clearly avoiding Hongjoong’s eyes. “Fucking workaholic.”
“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa snapped. He shot him a stern look. They were all feeling a bit irritated about the current arrangement, but that didn’t make remarks like that acceptable.
“Someone has to be,” Hongjoong replied. He pulled open the rice jar they kept on the counter, peered inside, and then groaned. “Who the fuck isn’t refilling this?”
The kitchen went still. Because his tone was all wrong. Not the playful frustration he’d usually have, poking at Seonghwa’s side until he fessed up and apologized, both of them giggling all the while. He sounded mad. Genuinely.
“Joong,” Seonghwa said slowly, his tone quiet and even. “It’s okay. I’ll grab the bag.”
“This always happens,” he snapped back. And he threw the jar’s lid down with a clatter, sent it skittering across the counter. “No one in this house can do shit, no one—”
“Stop, Hongjoong.”
Wooyoung resumed chopping, muttering just loud enough for them to catch: “should’ve stayed in your office”.
Hongjoong turned on him fast, a finger jabbed in his direction. “Maybe I wouldn’t work so much if I wasn’t paying your entire school tuition, if—”
“You’re done.” Seonghwa had seen enough. He scruffed his mate firmly, tugged him away from the counter, and sent a forced smile in the direction of the other two. “Finish dinner, please. I’ll take care of him.”
“Hwa, stop it.” Hongjoong pushed at his hand, stumbling a step behind him as Seonghwa pulled him upstairs to their bedroom. “I don’t have time for this.”
Seonghwa shut the door firmly behind them, finally releasing his hold. “I don’t have time for you being mean. They just miss you, Joong. You’re not being fair.”
Hongjoong made a face. “Wooyoung’s pissing me off on purpose and you know it.”
“Yeah, and why is that?” Seonghwa touched him again, moved to hold his face, to run a gentle hand down his scent gland. “He wants attention. From you.”
But Hongjoong pushed his hands away, stalked off to the opposite side of the room. This wasn’t his normal. He didn’t push Seonghwa away, he didn’t avoid hard conversations. If anything he started hard conversations. He’d always put the pack before himself, hyperaware of everyone’s well-being, everyone’s emotions. Especially the youngest members.
He folded his arms, turned his back to the room. His scent was angry and murky. “Go on.”
Seonghwa sighed. “What?”
Hongjoong shrugged. “Aren’t you here to scold me, or something?”
“Is that what you want?”
“I want to leave. None of you realize how much I have to get done, how overwhelming it is. And I’m doing it for you.”
Seonghwa stepped closer, focusing on keeping his scent neutral, his muscles relaxed. He was extra in tune with his breath in times like this. He refused to let Hongjoong’s foul mood make him anxious and tense. He’d had enough of that during the last month, anyways. “We appreciate you,” he began slowly. “But we want you with us, not locked away—”
“Oh shut up, Hwa.” Hongjoong waved a dismissive hand. “You don’t have any—”
Seonghwa didn’t let him finish. Instead snatched him by the wrist and yanked him closer, spun him around, and turned him over his hip. He delivered a single hard smack to the seat of his pants, enough to push a little gasp out of him. “You do not talk to me like that.”
Hongjoong squirmed away, his eyes wide. “And you don’t spank me, what—”
“You know full well I do.” Seonghwa put a finger in his face, silencing him. He would not be talked over right now. The entire pack had been carrying Hongjoong’s stress, putting up with his absence. It’d been hard for them all, and the last thing Seonghwa was going to tolerate was disrespect on top of it. “You’re not acting like yourself. You’re stressed and mean and I hate it. Get the brush.”
Hongjoong’s jaw dropped. He blinked once, then twice. Visibly stunned. It’d been years since he’d been put over anyone’s knee. “But—”
Seonghwa pointed at the door to their ensuite bathroom. “Go.”
“I’ll apologize to Wooyoung, okay?”
“Yes, you will. And to me.” Seonghwa raised his eyebrows, sent a look in the direction of the bathroom. “Now get the brush.”
Slowly, like every step exhausted him, Hongjoong shuffled over to the bathroom. He rumaged through their drawers, clearly pretending he couldn’t find it, before at last producing the brush. No one in the house had hair long enough to justify one like that. It’d only ever been used as a tool of punishment. Thick, sturdy wood. Seonghwa could say from personal experience that it stung like hell.
He sat on the edge of their bed and patted his lap. “Here.”
Again, Hongjoong lingered. “You’re serious?”
“Yes. Come here.”
Hongjoong stepped closer, handed the brush over. His face was flushed hard from embarrassment, his ears a fiery red. “Everyone’s home,” he murmured.
Seonghwa nearly took pity on him. It wasn’t fun to have the whole pack know you were getting spanked. But that didn’t change the fact that Hongjoong was held to the same standard as everyone else. He himself had asked that, should he ever step out of line, Seonghwa would be the one to put him back in his place. He didn’t get to change his mind about it now.
Besides. If he truly believed it wasn’t fair or not deserved, he could safeword. They both knew that.
Seonghwa set the brush down on the comforter, reached out and tugged Hongjoong’s pants down, then his underwear. Then he guided him over his lap, ass presented. “We’ve all been understanding of you,” he said softly. “I know the pressure is a lot. It makes sense. But you’re still responsible for your actions.”
Hongjoong didn’t answer. Irritation was practically radiating off of him.
Seonghwa reached over and ran a hand over his hair. Honestly, he wasn’t in the mood for this either. He’d rather skip to afterwards, when they could snuggle and make up and scent each other. That was all he’d been wanting. Quality time with his mate, his pack leader.
Regardless, Hongjoong had put himself in this situation, and Seonghwa intended to follow through.
He picked up the brush, tapped it lightly on Hongjoong’s bottom. “I’ll check in after ten. No need to count. Just think about what put you here.”
Again, Hongjoong refused an answer. His arms were folded under his head, eyes averted.
So be it.
Seonghwa raised the brush up and brought it down on the undercurve of his bottom. Instantly, the skin flushed pink and splotchy. He kept the first ten like that. Firm, hard enough to smart, but not excessive. Hopefully, Hongjoong would already start having an attitude adjustment from just this, and they could finish up with five hard ones and then call it a day.
He landed the tenth and paused, rubbing his palm gently over the punished skin. “Hongjoong?”
“You don’t even hit hard.”
Ah. He knew what that was: a plea disguised as a complaint. The only way Hongjoong would allow himself to ask for more right now.
“That was the warm up, darling.” He massaged his butt for another moment, enjoying the soft skin under his hand. “Count these next ones. Any more attitude and I’ll get the cane.”
“Fine.”
He cracked the brush down hard on the backs of his thighs. “Try that again.”
“Yes, Seonghwa.” His voice was just barely strained. That last one had gotten to him.
Good.
Seonghwa resumed. Swung hard, waiting just long enough for a number before bringing it down again. He focused on Hongjoong’s sit spots, on his thighs. The palest, most sensitive spots of him. They were turning a beautiful red by the time Hongjoong gasped out a pained ten.
Again, he paused. Soothed the skin with his hand. “You want to explain to me why we’re doing this?”
Hongjoong sniffled. His legs quivered just barely under Seonghwa’s hand, his face now buried against his arms. He’d always been resistant to crying, fought it off as long as possible. “I—” Another pathetic sniff, his shoulders shaking a little. “I was mean.”
“Yes. You were. But what else?”
“Overworking?”
“Sort of.” Seonghwa continued rubbing circles on his legs, though he fully intended to punish them further. It was becoming increasingly obvious that Hongjoong needed it. Desperately. “We agreed this month would be extra busy. But what haven’t you been doing?”
“Asking for help.”
“There you go.” He had to resist ending it here. He hated seeing Hongjoong cry, hated seeing him in pain. But he’d promised to keep him in line. And he knew if the roles were reversed Hongjoong would be giving him another round for his trouble. “You’ll take another ten. What do you say?”
“Seonghwa, but—” He cut himself off. His voice wobbled. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Good boy. Start back from one.”
For the last time, he retrieved the brush. Positioned it against one cheek, on the swell of it, and then brought it down with a snap.
“One.”
He focused on that same spot again, got a pained little squeak for his trouble.
“Two.”
After the third Hongjoong’s dam broke. An awful, choked sob escaped him. His shoulders curled as he hid his face even further away, his legs twitching from the effort of staying still. He forgot his count, but Seonghwa let it go. He needed the tears more.
Seonghwa switched the other side, evened out the redness. He pushed through amidst the crying, knowing full well Hongjoong knew how to communicate his limits. For the last four he returned to the thighs. This needed to stick. Hongjoong wouldn’t be sitting comfortably for at least a few days.
“Last two,” he said softly. He delivered them in quick succession, a final blistering stroke to each abused thigh. Then he tossed the brush aside. “All done, baby. Come here.”
Hongjoong pushed himslef gladly upwards, collapsed into Seonghwa’s arms. “I’m sorry,” he managed through the tears. “I’ve felt so horrible, I’ve missed you so much. All I want— I only—”
“I know.” Seonghwa held him close, pressed his mouth to his scent gland and nipped him just barely, enough to bring his scent up, to nuzzle against it. “You’re doing your best. We’re here to help you.”
They eventually fell backwards against the pillows at the head of the bed, tangled up in a mess of limbs and kisses and tears. At last, when Hongjoong began to calm down, Seonghwa looked him in the eyes. He didn’t want to be firm, he wanted to dissolve into this puddle of theirs and drift away, but he knew it had to be done. “You’re apologizing to everyone, but first Wooyoung and Yeosang. Understood?”
A nod.
“Good. Do you feel better? Was that…okay?” A tiny bit of shyness crept in. It’d been so long since Seonghwa had spanked anyone, let alone Hongjoong.
Hongjoong managed a weak laugh. “Yeah. You’re a bit lethal with that brush, though.”
Seonghwa smiled, pushed in to kiss him on the nose, on the forehead. “Nothing you didn’t deserve, love.”