Archive of Our Own ^beta

There was a rule. They had all agreed to it, that it made sense. Towels were hung up on the towel rack when they were done using them, or they were tossed in the hamper. The towel rack was even heated. It was a perfectly good system. The one place that towels did not go was on the floor.

And yet.

Keeley met Jamie's eye in the mirror as he stepped out of the shower behind her, her toothbrush buzzing in her mouth. He grinned back at her, grabbing one of the large white towels they had and beginning to dry off. Her brush buzzed to let her know to move to another area of her mouth, and she did so, even as she narrowed her eyes. Something was setting off her Jamie brat-o-metre. It was well trained by now, and so she wasn't surprised when he met her gaze again, smirked, and just dropped the now wet towel onto the floor.

Pulling her toothbrush from her mouth — the universe had decided that timing should be on her side today, rather than his, and buzzed that it was done — Keeley turned and pointed it at him.

"Oi," she said sharply, pausing to turn and spit out her toothpaste before turning back to him. "Is that were towels live, Jamie?"

"'S in the bathroom," he replied, now having picked up one of the smaller towels to dry off his sopping hair. "Good enough, yeah?"

"Do I need to get Roy?" she asked.

It wasn't that Keeley couldn't deal with a bratty Jamie. She could, did and had for a long time, including smacking his very shapely backside. But when it came to all out pushing like this, it wasn't Keeley's more understanding nature that Jamie was looking for. He knew he could come to either of them and they both knew him well enough to tell which of them would be better suited to a certain situation. And in this case, that was Roy.

"You can do whatever you want," Jamie said, still all ease and cockiness. Yeah, it had been a while since he'd been taken down a few pegs, gotten put in his place. It made sense he was seeking it out. At least he'd picked up that he could just brat with small things like this and get what he wanted without all the big theatrics that he used to pull.

"Ah!" she said, holding up a finger as he went to leave the bathroom.

Jamie, good boy that he was deep down, immediately froze, looking back at her wide-eyed for a moment before the smirk returned.

"Pick those up, or go stand in the corner," she said, pointing at the now two towels he had dumped on the floor.

"Erm," Jamie said, pretending to think for a moment. "No, I don't think I will, thanks."

"Jamie," a voice growled from the doorway.

Trust Roy to have sensed their boy's mood that morning and be ready to handle it.

Jamie shifted his weight from one foot to another at the sight of him hovering in the doorway. Roy had already gotten showered and dressed, which made him a bit more intimidating that Keeley in her fluffy, pink dressing gown with her hair still scraped back.

"What do you do when Keeley tells you to do something?" Roy asked, voice low and dangerous.

Jamie, already aware that he was getting what he'd pushed for and not quite sure he was ready to deal with that, just shrugged, folding his arms over his chest since he had no shirt to tuck his hands into like he normally did.

"Don't want to answer?" Roy asked, stepping into the bathroom. "Because I think you know. You fucking do it, don't you?"

Keeley decided the rest of her morning routine could wait, slipping out with a smile sent Roy's way. They had this in hand.

It had taken Jamie a long fucking time to work out how to properly ask for what he wanted. When they realised what they wanted from each other, they'd done all the proper shit. Negotiations and conversations and limits and safe words. All of that. And when it had all been new, Jamie had wanted so hard that he'd just turned the dial up to a million. It had taken time for him to realise he didn't need to break the law, or truly disappoint them, to get what he wanted: a sore bum and some cuddles after. Yeah, they all enjoyed the big cathartic scenes when they happened, but it didn't need to be all the time.

Which was why Jamie was now a normal level of brat. Pushing just enough to get put over a knee or earn a punishment, without ending up a wet, soggy, crying mess by the end. And that meant he did little shit, like purposefully dumping his wet towels on the bathroom fucking floor.

Like a prick.

And Roy knew how to deal with Jamie being a prick.

"Get into downward dog. Hands on the fucking floor there," he growled, pointing to where he wanted Jamie to be.

"What?" he replied, following Roy's gaze. Roy knew Jamie knew the pose, he hadn't let the muppet come to his yoga class lest he fucking harass the mums, but he knew he'd attended another.

"Make like a fucking pyramid and get your hands on the floor," Roy said, adding an extra layer of sternness into his voice. "Downward fucking dog. Now. Arse in the air."

Jamie gaped at him for another moment, before looking down at the towels, cockiness gone now he was getting the consequences he wanted.

"Look, I'll just pick up the towels, mate—" he started to say, before Roy walked over, grabbed him by the bicep and landed a hard fucking smack to his lad's still slightly damp arse.

The yelp he got was music to his ears.

"Do as you're fucking told," he said, and Jamie squirmed but got to bending his arse over.

Roy could admit he had perfect form, a steady angle and straight lines of legs and arms, all bare skin that he wanted to fucking touch because Jamie hadn't gotten dressed yet. And since he was the one in charge, he decided he would do exactly that, stroking Jamie's flank and getting a shiver. Whether from anticipation or a surprising sense of ticklishness, he didn't know and he didn't much care. Because in this position, Jamie's face was positioned to look at the towels he'd dumped on the floor.

"Roy, this en't fair," he complained, but was ignored. Whiny boys who had misbehaved got sore bottoms in their house, and Roy knew Jamie knew that very well. "Could let me pick 'em up, like."

"Keeley already gave you that option, and you decided to be a fucking brat about it," Roy replied, settling into place at Jamie's side. He knew the lad could hold this position just fine, but he didn't plan to keep them there too long, even if the bath brush hanging up did call out to him. "And brats get smacked bums in this house, don't they?"

The noise Jamie made was embarrassed and full of protest. It hadn't taken Roy long to learn that sort of language had him melting and blushing and generally being fucking adorable. But even at his most fucking adorable, he'd still earned a sore backside, and with the way his arse was perfectly presented, Roy wasn't going to waste the opportunity.

"Ow!" Jamie somehow sounded both pained and offended as Roy cracked his hand down against his backside, rocking forward a little. "Fuck, Roy!"

"Hm, bet that fucking hurts on a wet arse, hm?" Okay, it wasn't wet so much as damp, but still. "Back in position."

Jamie had moved a little out of the pose he wanted him in, which just wouldn't do. There was a grumble, and Roy got to enjoy watching his hand print bloom in a flushed pink on Jamie's right cheek as he returned to where he was meant to be. It would be a shame not to make sure he had a matching left side, so Roy smacked him again, just as hard.

Jamie made a tight lipped groan of a sound, shifting his hips from side to side a little but managing to stay mostly still. Roy wasn't going to keep the same intensity the whole time, but it was always a good idea to show Jamie Tartt you meant fucking business.

"Owww, Ro-oy," he whined, wriggling his hips around again as colour flooded in, taking the shape of a palm and five fingers. Fucking lovely.

"You decided to be a naughty, naughty boy," he chided, placing a hand on Jamie's lower back and drawing the other one back to start spanking him fucking properly. "And naughty, naughty boys get spankings on their bare bottoms."

"Fuckin' 'ell," Jamie groaned, his accent somehow getting a little bit thicker.

Roy lent back just enough to catch a glimpse at his face, and he was fairly sure the red colour wasn't just because of the blood rushing to his head. He just fucking grinned and got to work.

Look, Jamie knew Roy were a fucking sadist. He knew that very well before he ever grabbed him and kissed him after a few too many beers and Roy had just kissed him right on back. That shit with the red string tied to their dicks had been proof enough, if years of knowing him before that hadn't clued anyone in. And Jamie knew he liked pain sometimes. Not always. Some pain was just bad. But pain he wanted and worked for? He liked that. A lot.

And yeah, okay, this sort of scenario was one that he'd thought about before. Maybe more than once. Maybe while getting himself off. Roy or Keeley putting him in an uncomfortable position and then spanking him? Yeah, he liked the idea of that. And now he was getting it and it was very confusing. Because, yeah, he were uncomfortable — more from still being fucking naked than the pose, honestly — and Roy's hands were fuckin' hard, like. But also he had pushed for this.

He knew bratting at Keeley would get him here — she'd never minded indulging his fantasies when they were first dating, his words coming out strange until she'd taken his hand and told him she didn't mind what he liked. That he could be honest with her. So he had, and she'd spanked him for the first time, and he'd loved it. But she was better at fun scenes, or roleplay, and sometimes Jamie wanted to be in his own head, yeah? He didn't mind being a naughty schoolboy sometimes, but often just… he wanted to be Jamie. And Keeley, he loved her, but she was more into the softer side of things. Roy on the other hand…

So, that was their system. Jamie was a brat, and Keeley could deal with him, sure, but mostly the physical side of any discipline fell to Roy. And Roy fucking revelled in it. They fuckin' loved each other, yeah? But he still wanted revenge for the years he couldn't just haul Jamie over his knee and whale on his arse. Although that idea had given Jamie a new fantasy he really should talk to Roy about at some point. He were the fuckin' manager now, en't he? Could probably make it happen.

The smacks he were landing now weren't as sharp as the initial two he'd dealt out, but Jamie were still unable to keep his face from screwing up. Those first two had had him feeling like he had to clench every muscle to deal with them, sharp, icy sting quickly melting into a burn that crackled over his skin. No, now they were lighter but more frequent, and he weren't following a pattern that Jamie could figure out. Sometimes if he did follow a pattern, it were like he was trying to get him to go to sleep… which they'd actually tried once, when Keeley could cradle Jamie's head and stroke his hair the way he liked it. He hadn't quite fallen asleep, but he'd definitely floated off somewhere nice.

"You don't leave your shit laying around on the floor," Roy scolded, snapping him back into the present by cracking his hand down on Jamie's thighs. He hissed through his teeth and rose up on his toes before forcing his heels back to the ground. "You don't have a fucking maid service in this house."

"Yes, sir!" he yelped, taken off guard by a few solid smacks to the crease where his arse met said thighs. The honorific had been a spur of the moment, words falling out of his mouth type thing back when they'd first really started going with this domestic discipline stuff and Roy's eyes had lit up like a tiger spotting a fucking baby bunny.

His whole backside, raised in the air making him feel pretty fucking embarrassed, thanks for asking, was now on fire. Oh, he'd had harder spankings, the ones before he realised there was a scale to bratting, and he didn't have to always go above and beyond. But something about that hand just coming down, again and again and again, with no let up, it was making it hard to stay where Roy wanted him. Honestly, for a fucking footie player, Roy had a hard fucking hand.

"Is leaving your fucking towels on the floor acceptable?" Roy asked, moving his hand to kind of wrap around Jamie's hip and that didn't seem like a good sign.

He was proven right a moment later when Roy's hand somehow sped up, covering his entire arse and upper thighs in blazing, peppered swats, going over already well-trodden ground.

"No, sir!" he replied, channelling the responses he'd give on the pitch to his coach. The 'ow, ow, ow' was less usual for that scenario, but had been known to happen. He was coached by Roy Kent, after all.

"Is being a naughty brat to Keeley a good idea if you want to sit comfortably?" Roy asked, and Jamie's stomach felt like it was full of wrestling snakes.

"Noooo!" he replied, unable to keep still by this point.

"What should you do when Keeley tells you to fucking do something?" Roy asked, making him try and fucking think, even when all Jamie's mind wanted to do was to focus on the burn and sting and fire he was igniting.

"Do it, sir!" he replied quickly, wishing he could kick like he normally did. That was part of the evil of this position, he was realising, he couldn't flail like he could when Roy or Keeley had him over their knee or bent over something else. In that situation, he could kick or ball up his fists, or do something to try and alleviate the pain. But stuck like this he had to use his hands and feet to keep his balance.

"Are you going to be a good boy for the rest of the day?" Roy's voice was a bit softer now, but his hand fucking weren't.

"Y-yeah!" he agreed, quickly nodding.

The two last smacks echoed the first, and on well-punished skin, he couldn't help a few embarrassingly high noises in reaction to them. Roy helped him up and kept his hands on him as the blood rushed away from his head, although Jamie didn't much care about his balance, he cared about his sore backside that had clearly been spanked clean off, even if it still felt like it were there when he reached back to cup his cheeks.

"Stick the lip back in, you daft muppet," Roy said, although the smile took the sting from the words, and Jamie just turned his sad look up all the more. "You asked for that."

"Did not," he replied, a little sulky, even if there was a sense of triumph in his chest.

"What's the rule about fucking lying, Jamie?" Roy asked, tilting his chin down and raising his eyebrows. It was a meaningful fucking look, would only be more so if he glanced at the bar of soap sitting out on the counter, one that was only used for a single purpose.

"Didn't lie," Jamie protested, still rubbing his burning arse, the skin all prickly and hot under his hands. "Just dropped a few towels."

"Which is you asking for a good fucking spanking," Roy replied, rolling his eyes and pulling Jamie in close for a cuddle.

Jamie loved hugs. Always had, always sought out the connection when he thought he could get away with it. And Roy and Keeley gave some of the best hugs, the ones where they held him tight and made him feel like they'd never let go.

Huffing, he stopped rubbing and hugged Roy back, tucking his face in the same spot he had once chosen to hide, purely on instinct. Now he did it because it let him feel completely enveloped by Roy, wrapped up in his arms and smelling his cologne, closing his eyes to complete the illusion.

"Jamie! Roy! You're going to be late if you don't get moving, babes!"

Keeley's voice sounded from not too far away, and when Jamie peeked up, he could see her, perched on their king sized bed and sipping a cup of tea. He realised, face flushing, that she would have had a perfect view of the whole thing. It wasn't like it was the first time she'd watched. Keeley loved to fucking watch. Still had that hot sense of humiliation curling in his stomach. But the safe kind, not the kind that made him want to punch a wall until his knuckles were bloody.

"Alright, time to get fucking moving," Roy said, even as he didn't move. He almost always waited for Jamie to step away first, and he sighed but did so.

He was just grabbing one of the towels he'd dropped, bent over to do so, when something solid snapped against his already sore arse, making him jump and yell at the same time. What the fuck was that?!

He spun around to find Roy practically fucking giddy, a twisted towel in his hand that he had obviously just whipped Jamie with.

"What the fuck, man?" Jamie asked, turning to keep the tender target from view.

"Poetic justice," Roy replied, with that weird, delighted glint in his eyes he sometimes got.

Jamie decided that defence was sometimes the best form of offence and scarpered.