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"submission_right_thumbnail_url_large": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/4187/4187367_PaddlePaw_new_text_document.jpg", "submission_right_thumbnail_url_medium": "https://nl1.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/4187/4187367_PaddlePaw_new_text_document.jpg", "submission_right_thumb_huge_x": "300", "submission_right_thumb_huge_y": "300", "submission_right_thumb_large_x": "200", "submission_right_thumb_large_y": "200", "submission_right_thumb_medium_x": "120", "submission_right_thumb_medium_y": "120" } ], "description": "", "description_bbcode_parsed": "", "writing": "As far as Rex was concerned, it wasn't a moment too soon and he rejoiced internally a second time when the phone rang for his dad a moment later. Calls that came in this late for his father were always work-related emergencies and therefore couldn't be dismissed – not by a man who was the president and sole owner of a company. There was no way his dad was going to dump the call just to yell at him, and while this was true to a certain extent, that didn't mean Rex was off the hook. Before his smile could grow any wider, Malcolm pushed him toward the stairs and jabbed a finger at the ceiling as he began to speak into the receiver, a thundercloud where his face used to be. The man was beyond furious at this latest stunt that his sixteen-year-old had pulled and had some very definite plans on what should be done about it.\n\nToo sore to consider making another run for it, Rex grudgingly obeyed and hitched his way upstairs, thinking far more about the shit he intended to give his friends tomorrow than on how long his father planned to ground him.\n\nHe'd barely made it inside his room when Dalton bounded up the stairs behind him and followed him in. As Dalton took stock of his younger brother's torn and lacerated condition, he leaned against the door frame and whistled.\n\n\"Little Brother, if I were you, I'd sit down while I still could. Dad's definitely gonna rip you a new one this time.\"\n\n\"Bullshit,\" Rex sneered. \"If he didn't do jack about the motorbike thing, he's not gonna do jack about this.\"\n\nHe glanced up from checking out his bruises to share the rest of his opinion of their father, but Dalton had heard the slam of the phone downstairs and was scuttling back to his own room, determined to make himself extremely scarce for the next little while. Before Rex could ask him where the hell he was going, he, too, heard Malcolm's angry tread on the stairs and he quickly turned his back to the doorway to demonstrate his indifference. Whether or not this minor act of defiance contributed to Dad's ire, Rex couldn't say with absolute certainty, but from the hellacious swat that dusted his backside once the man entered the room, it probably didn't help.\n\nArmed with a belt in one hand and a first aid kit in the other Malcolm was just getting started. He tossed both objects onto the mattress then grabbed his son by the shoulders, forcing him to turn around.\n\n\"WHAT IN GOD'S NAME DROVE YOU TO RIDE A SKATEBOARD ON YOUR BACK DOWN LAKESHORE BOULEVARD? WHAT DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING? SLEIGHING IN THE ALPS? COME HERE!\"\n\nWith a firm grip on the boy's left arm and another hearty smack to his behind to help him along, Malcolm had no intention of waiting around to see if Rex would decide to obey on his own. He propelled him right over to the bed, sat down and stood him between his knees with orders to keep his butt still then reached for the emergency kit. Rummaging inside and removing what he thought he'd need, he looked back at Rex, trying to assess the extent of his injuries.\n\nFor a moment, he didn't even know where to start.\n\nHe could see at least half a dozen rips in the boy's two t-shirts with an equal amount of tears in his baggy jeans, all of which were seeping relatively small amounts of blood, but still needed to be cleaned. Both of Rex's palms had made considerable contact with asphalt and wherever Malcolm saw a patch of bare skin, he also saw a need for Mercurochrome: the boy's chin, his wrists, certain areas on his forearms and calves, the list seemed endless. Frankly, it was a wonder his third son wasn't in traction, or worse yet, lying on a slab in the morgue, and as Malcolm set to work, he raised these points again and again.\n\nRex didn't want to hear it.\n\nMore than that, he didn't want his dad undressing him completely and fixing all his cuts and boo-boos like he was still Kurt's age, but he wasn't allowed to go anywhere, that much was clear. If he boxed his father away and tried to back up, his butt got smacked before getting hauled right back into position, so what was the use? Obviously, the man wasn't going to be satisfied until he'd tallied every scrape and bruise and seen for himself that none of Rex's bones were jutting out at weird angles – which might have been kinda nice if it were at least done in private. Yes, they were in Rex's bedroom but the door was wide open so anyone passing by could see right in. Whatever secret kicks Rex initially felt when his father began fussing over him were immediately quelled by his shame. Even if the only possible audience consisted of his three brothers, it was still embarrassing having to stand naked in front of his old man at age sixteen so he could be doctored like this. He squirmed and huffed as much as he thought he could get away with and had absolutely no objections when Dad finally finished, snapped the lid closed on the first aid kit, then gestured impatiently toward the dresser.\n\n\"Okay, you can go put on a shirt.\"\n\nInterpreting that statement to mean he could cover up down below as well, Rex carefully slipped on one of his hoodies then began fishing around in another drawer for a baggy pair of sweats. Malcolm stopped him immediately.\n\n\"Stop right there, Reckless. I said a shirt.\"\n\n\"So? I'm not going to wear it alone!\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, you are. If you feel up to it, you can put on some boxers after we're done.\"\n\n\"Done what?\" Rex scoffed.\n\nHe'd watched his father collect the belt off the bed and was eyeing them both with open contempt, utterly convinced this was just another level in the game Malcolm kept playing. Apart from that pathetic spanking he'd received weeks ago – and which he'd barely felt after the first hour – the man hadn't seriously bent him back over in all the time since. If his \"dad\" truly cared about him, he would have found a reason to strap him at least once in the last six weeks instead of giving him the odd slap that didn't do anything except disappoint. Rex would be damned before he'd tell him though. He'd begged once already, and that was more than enough.\n\n\"Why don't you just put that stupid thing away and tell me how long I'm supposed to be grounded for?\" he asked.\n\n\"Grounded?\" Malcolm shook his head. He could feel his blood pressure rising at the boy's derisive attitude and doubled his belt. \" Boy, those days are over. You've just graduated. Come here.\"\n\nRex snorted. \"Give it up, Barrett. This is me, remember? The kid you never hit? Your real sons are outside.\"\n\nHe flicked a thumb toward the hallway then turned back to his dresser but that was as far as he got. Before he could dig inside again for the sweatpants he'd had his eye on, Malcolm stormed forward, grabbed his forearm and spun him around.\n\n\"My REAL son is right here and he's going to learn not to go freeboarding down a busy street!\"\n\nEvents sped up dramatically for Rex then.\n\nBy the time he grasped that his father was really intending to apply \"that stupid thing\" to his butt – and that now would be a very good time to flee – he was in the same position that he'd seen Dalton in almost two months before: practically upside down, pinned over Malcolm's knee, his bare backside almost mooning the ceiling and his toes barely scraping the floor. The hold his father had on him was snug – in fact, too snug for the teen's liking, and as he struggled to right himself, and only succeeded in kicking his legs and humping his father's thigh a little, Rex panicked, his tough guy facade crumbling. He forgot this was what he wanted and what he'd been fighting for. He whimpered and opened his mouth to start begging. but the first crack of the belt shocked him into silence.\n\nThen he felt the burn.\n\n\"AHHHHHOWWWW! DAD! STOP!\"\n\nMalcolm would not. The man raised the belt and snapped it home again then repeated the process methodically, grateful that none of the boy's new cuts and bruises were on the target area, although in all honesty, their presence wouldn't have stopped him. Obviously, he would have taken care to strap around them if that were possible, but if not, he would have simply grit his teeth and done his fatherly duty regardless because, God knows, the boy needed this. He needed this level of discipline if he was to survive to manhood, and Malcolm had every intention of ensuring his third child lived to see that day. As he whipped the backside before him for the tenth time and hardened his heart against the sobbing that was now clearly audible, he began to lecture.\n\n\"Reckless, what you did tonight —\"\n\nTHWAP!\n\n\"DAAAD!\n\n\" — wasn't just wrong —\"\n\nTHWAP!\n\n\"DAAAAD! I'M S-SORRY!\"\n\n\"It was dangerous —\"\n\nTHWAP!\n\n\" – self-destructive —\"\n\nTHWAP!\n\n\" – damn foolish —\"\n\nTHWAP!\n\n\" — and it took twenty years off my life!\"\n\nTHWAP!\n\n\"P-PLEEEASE, DAD! STOP! STOP! IT H-HURTS!\"\n\n\"Yes, it does because I did not raise you to commit suicide.\"\n\nTHWAP!\n\n\"I KNOW, DAD! PLEASE! I'M S-S-SORRYYYYY!\"\n\n\"You're my son, Reckless.\"\n\nTHWAP!\n\n\"O-OKAY, D-DAD! ALL R-RIGHT!\"\n\n\"I love you —\n\nTHWAP!\n\n\"P-PLEEEEASE, DADDYYYYY!\"\n\n\" — and you will not —\"\n\nTHWAP!\n\n\" — do —\"\n\nTHWAP!\n\n\" — something —\"\n\nTHWAP!\n\n\" — like this —\"\n\nTHWAP!\n\n\" — again —\"\n\nTHWAP!\n\nTHWAP!\n\nTHWAP!\n\nDiscarding the belt and continuing with the flat of his hand, Malcolm spanked his boy for several more minutes, struggling not to succumb to his own emotions as Rex gave up the battle and simply bawled throughout the final barrage. It tore at his soul to have to listen to his son's anguished cries but he would not stop – could not stop – until he was absolutely positive that Reckless had learned his lesson. He couldn't afford to be lax with him this time. He'd come too close to losing him permanently.\n\nAt last, it was over.\n\nHoarse from crying, Rex was too overwrought to notice. He clung to his father unconsciously and wept as the man drew him upright then enveloped him in a bear hug, his initial aches and pains from joyriding down Lakeshore all but forgotten now that his backside was ablaze. Never once had he imagined that this was what his brothers endured when Dad turned them over his knee. If he'd known, he sure as hell wouldn't have begged for it or even hinted that it was something desirable. Were it not for the fact that his nerve endings were screaming at him, he would have been certain his dad had killed him. Would he ever be able to sit his ass on a chair again?\n\nBit by bit, Rex realized that he would. His brothers never seemed to have a major problem parking their butts at the dining room table within twenty-four hours of punishment, and as he remembered that, plus the fact that they were all probably hovering nearby, listening to him act like a baby, he pulled himself together. So much for taking his first belting like a man.\n\nEmbarrassed at how miserably he'd failed to do so, Rex let go of his father and swiped an arm quickly across his eyes and runny nose, squirming to be released. Malcolm wasn't ready to cut short their first real hug in nine years, but he understood what his sixteen-year-old was feeling, so he compromised. He took a step back to give Rex some distance, but kept both hands on the teen's sagging shoulders to maintain physical contact. Rex tried to shrug him off to prove to both of them that he didn't need it, but the family patriarch wasn't buying his act, and soon enough, Rex stopped squirming. He still couldn't bring himself to meet his father's worried gaze, though, so Malcolm squeezed his neck gently then cupped his chin, forcing him to look up.\n\n\"You're mine, Reckless. You're my boy and I won't lose you,\" he said. \"I know I haven't told you this nearly enough since...your mom left... but I love you. I've always loved you and I'm sorry I didn't show it before, but I'll do whatever it takes from now on to prove it.\"\n\nMalcolm pulled the teen into another hug and held on tight, not minding that the boy looked vaguely suspicious and didn't return it. He knew he would in time. He just had to keep working on him. After a few minutes, he broke away but still kept a hand on Rex's shoulder.\n\n\"Is there anything you want to tell me?\" he coaxed. \"Anything you want to say about why you nearly broke your neck tonight?\"\n\nRex shook his head. The only thing on his mind was how much his butt was still burning. He couldn't believe that he actually wished his dad had stuck to hand spanking him and he shifted his gaze over to the belt now lying on his bed as he winced and massaged his bottom. When he finally mumbled something under his breath about never doing anything to earn a second strapping, Malcolm caught his complaint and suppressed a smile.\n\n\"Then I suggest you re-think your behaviour over the last few weeks.\"\n\nRising to the challenge, Rex forgot about feeling shy. He set his jaw and scowled up at his father.\n\n\"What do you mean? I haven't done anything that bad.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, you have and it's going to stop,\" As Rex started to argue, Malcolm gave him a hard look. \"You've been under my roof long enough to know the rules, but what have I seen? You, breaking them one after the other, like you think you're exempt when you're not. The grace period you've been enjoying is over, Reckless. You mess up again – you do anything even remotely as dangerous as what you did tonight – and you and I are going to be right back here in your bedroom with your pants down and your backside over my knee getting a damn good spanking for it. That's how it works in this family.\"\n\nTo this, Rex scowled even harder and Malcolm knew he was on the verge of making some stubborn, childish retort about not really being a member of the family. To squelch it before it could begin, he decided to remind his third born about the consequences of his actions.\n\n\"You could have been maimed for life or killed outright, Reckless. Do you understand what that means? You could have ruined your future or torn this family apart, and it was only by the grace of God that you didn't. Lakeshore is a boulevard, son. It's not some country road out in the middle of nowhere with just a few passing rabbits to duck and dodge. If Folsher and those other drivers hadn't been paying attention —\"\n\nRex didn't want to hear any more and cut off him off.\n\n\"All right, already, Dad. Quit bugging me. You made your point, okay? You don't need to keep lecturing me about it. I get it.\"\n\n\"You don't look like it.\"\n\nPleased that Rex was calling him \"dad\" again – and not just on reflex when his backside was getting whipped – Malcolm hoped that the boy would continue to do so after he'd heard what his father had to say next.\n\n\"I'm taking your boards away,\" he announced. \"You'll get them back if and when I think you can be trusted again.\"\n\nThe infuriated look on Rex's face quickly switched to one of sly confidence and Malcolm narrowed his gaze.\n\n\"This is no joke, Reckless. You will NOT use your allowance to get yourself another board, you will NOT ask your brothers to buy you some new ones and you will NOT ride anyone else's, are we clear?\"\n\nPetulant once more, Rex wrenched himself out of his father's grip and stormed out of reach.\n\n\"Fine. Whatever.\"\n\n\"No,\" Malcolm insisted. \"It's not \"whatever\". It's \"yes, Dad, we're clear.\"\"\n\nDeliberately pausing long enough to show the old man he didn't mean a single word, Rex parroted what his father had just ordered him to say.\n\nFar from satisfied, Malcolm knew nothing would be gained by butting heads with Rex right now. No doubt, the boy was too sore and upset to focus on any lessons his nagging father might be trying to impart and he needed some time alone to cool off. On the other hand, Malcolm didn't want Rex believing that his father was weakening again so he left him with a parting threat.\n\n\"I meant what I said, Reckless. Don't disobey me and don't test me. If you do, your butt's going to pay the price and I don't care if you're forty and I'm retired or if you're still sore from your last spanking. You may think when you look at me that I'm a lousy dad who won't follow up on his promises, but you're wrong. How you behave and who you hang around with matters to me, and the days of letting you run off and do whatever the hell you wanted are over. I strongly suggest you start watching your step.\"\n\n\"Like you'll even notice.\"\n\nMuttering that to himself only after his dad had left, Rex still felt better for having said it. He'd been disobeying the house rules for years, and now, all of a sudden, he was supposed to trust that his daddy was going to start watching him like a hawk just because he'd gotten strapped once? Bullshit. This whole night was a fucking fluke and it was going to take more than some well-spoken words or a few licks with a belt for Reckless Barrett to believe it.\n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "As far as Rex was concerned, it wasn't a moment too soon and he rejoiced internally a second time when the phone rang for his dad a moment later. Calls that came in this late for his father were always work-related emergencies and therefore couldn't be dismissed – not by a man who was the president and sole owner of a company. There was no way his dad was going to dump the call just to yell at him, and while this was true to a certain extent, that didn't mean Rex was off the hook. Before his smile could grow any wider, Malcolm pushed him toward the stairs and jabbed a finger at the ceiling as he began to speak into the receiver, a thundercloud where his face used to be. The man was beyond furious at this latest stunt that his sixteen-year-old had pulled and had some very definite plans on what should be done about it.

Too sore to consider making another run for it, Rex grudgingly obeyed and hitched his way upstairs, thinking far more about the shit he intended to give his friends tomorrow than on how long his father planned to ground him.

He'd barely made it inside his room when Dalton bounded up the stairs behind him and followed him in. As Dalton took stock of his younger brother's torn and lacerated condition, he leaned against the door frame and whistled.

"Little Brother, if I were you, I'd sit down while I still could. Dad's definitely gonna rip you a new one this time."

"Bullshit," Rex sneered. "If he didn't do jack about the motorbike thing, he's not gonna do jack about this."

He glanced up from checking out his bruises to share the rest of his opinion of their father, but Dalton had heard the slam of the phone downstairs and was scuttling back to his own room, determined to make himself extremely scarce for the next little while. Before Rex could ask him where the hell he was going, he, too, heard Malcolm's angry tread on the stairs and he quickly turned his back to the doorway to demonstrate his indifference. Whether or not this minor act of defiance contributed to Dad's ire, Rex couldn't say with absolute certainty, but from the hellacious swat that dusted his backside once the man entered the room, it probably didn't help.

Armed with a belt in one hand and a first aid kit in the other Malcolm was just getting started. He tossed both objects onto the mattress then grabbed his son by the shoulders, forcing him to turn around.

"WHAT IN GOD'S NAME DROVE YOU TO RIDE A SKATEBOARD ON YOUR BACK DOWN LAKESHORE BOULEVARD? WHAT DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING? SLEIGHING IN THE ALPS? COME HERE!"

With a firm grip on the boy's left arm and another hearty smack to his behind to help him along, Malcolm had no intention of waiting around to see if Rex would decide to obey on his own. He propelled him right over to the bed, sat down and stood him between his knees with orders to keep his butt still then reached for the emergency kit. Rummaging inside and removing what he thought he'd need, he looked back at Rex, trying to assess the extent of his injuries.

For a moment, he didn't even know where to start.

He could see at least half a dozen rips in the boy's two t-shirts with an equal amount of tears in his baggy jeans, all of which were seeping relatively small amounts of blood, but still needed to be cleaned. Both of Rex's palms had made considerable contact with asphalt and wherever Malcolm saw a patch of bare skin, he also saw a need for Mercurochrome: the boy's chin, his wrists, certain areas on his forearms and calves, the list seemed endless. Frankly, it was a wonder his third son wasn't in traction, or worse yet, lying on a slab in the morgue, and as Malcolm set to work, he raised these points again and again.

Rex didn't want to hear it.

More than that, he didn't want his dad undressing him completely and fixing all his cuts and boo-boos like he was still Kurt's age, but he wasn't allowed to go anywhere, that much was clear. If he boxed his father away and tried to back up, his butt got smacked before getting hauled right back into position, so what was the use? Obviously, the man wasn't going to be satisfied until he'd tallied every scrape and bruise and seen for himself that none of Rex's bones were jutting out at weird angles – which might have been kinda nice if it were at least done in private. Yes, they were in Rex's bedroom but the door was wide open so anyone passing by could see right in. Whatever secret kicks Rex initially felt when his father began fussing over him were immediately quelled by his shame. Even if the only possible audience consisted of his three brothers, it was still embarrassing having to stand naked in front of his old man at age sixteen so he could be doctored like this. He squirmed and huffed as much as he thought he could get away with and had absolutely no objections when Dad finally finished, snapped the lid closed on the first aid kit, then gestured impatiently toward the dresser.

"Okay, you can go put on a shirt."

Interpreting that statement to mean he could cover up down below as well, Rex carefully slipped on one of his hoodies then began fishing around in another drawer for a baggy pair of sweats. Malcolm stopped him immediately.

"Stop right there, Reckless. I said a shirt."

"So? I'm not going to wear it alone!"

"Oh, yes, you are. If you feel up to it, you can put on some boxers after we're done."

"Done what?" Rex scoffed.

He'd watched his father collect the belt off the bed and was eyeing them both with open contempt, utterly convinced this was just another level in the game Malcolm kept playing. Apart from that pathetic spanking he'd received weeks ago – and which he'd barely felt after the first hour – the man hadn't seriously bent him back over in all the time since. If his "dad" truly cared about him, he would have found a reason to strap him at least once in the last six weeks instead of giving him the odd slap that didn't do anything except disappoint. Rex would be damned before he'd tell him though. He'd begged once already, and that was more than enough.

"Why don't you just put that stupid thing away and tell me how long I'm supposed to be grounded for?" he asked.

"Grounded?" Malcolm shook his head. He could feel his blood pressure rising at the boy's derisive attitude and doubled his belt. " Boy, those days are over. You've just graduated. Come here."

Rex snorted. "Give it up, Barrett. This is me, remember? The kid you never hit? Your real sons are outside."

He flicked a thumb toward the hallway then turned back to his dresser but that was as far as he got. Before he could dig inside again for the sweatpants he'd had his eye on, Malcolm stormed forward, grabbed his forearm and spun him around.

"My REAL son is right here and he's going to learn not to go freeboarding down a busy street!"

Events sped up dramatically for Rex then.

By the time he grasped that his father was really intending to apply "that stupid thing" to his butt – and that now would be a very good time to flee – he was in the same position that he'd seen Dalton in almost two months before: practically upside down, pinned over Malcolm's knee, his bare backside almost mooning the ceiling and his toes barely scraping the floor. The hold his father had on him was snug – in fact, too snug for the teen's liking, and as he struggled to right himself, and only succeeded in kicking his legs and humping his father's thigh a little, Rex panicked, his tough guy facade crumbling. He forgot this was what he wanted and what he'd been fighting for. He whimpered and opened his mouth to start begging. but the first crack of the belt shocked him into silence.

Then he felt the burn.

"AHHHHHOWWWW! DAD! STOP!"

Malcolm would not. The man raised the belt and snapped it home again then repeated the process methodically, grateful that none of the boy's new cuts and bruises were on the target area, although in all honesty, their presence wouldn't have stopped him. Obviously, he would have taken care to strap around them if that were possible, but if not, he would have simply grit his teeth and done his fatherly duty regardless because, God knows, the boy needed this. He needed this level of discipline if he was to survive to manhood, and Malcolm had every intention of ensuring his third child lived to see that day. As he whipped the backside before him for the tenth time and hardened his heart against the sobbing that was now clearly audible, he began to lecture.

"Reckless, what you did tonight —"

THWAP!

"DAAAD!

" — wasn't just wrong —"

THWAP!

"DAAAAD! I'M S-SORRY!"

"It was dangerous —"

THWAP!

" – self-destructive —"

THWAP!

" – damn foolish —"

THWAP!

" — and it took twenty years off my life!"

THWAP!

"P-PLEEEASE, DAD! STOP! STOP! IT H-HURTS!"

"Yes, it does because I did not raise you to commit suicide."

THWAP!

"I KNOW, DAD! PLEASE! I'M S-S-SORRYYYYY!"

"You're my son, Reckless."

THWAP!

"O-OKAY, D-DAD! ALL R-RIGHT!"

"I love you —

THWAP!

"P-PLEEEEASE, DADDYYYYY!"

" — and you will not —"

THWAP!

" — do —"

THWAP!

" — something —"

THWAP!

" — like this —"

THWAP!

" — again —"

THWAP!

THWAP!

THWAP!

Discarding the belt and continuing with the flat of his hand, Malcolm spanked his boy for several more minutes, struggling not to succumb to his own emotions as Rex gave up the battle and simply bawled throughout the final barrage. It tore at his soul to have to listen to his son's anguished cries but he would not stop – could not stop – until he was absolutely positive that Reckless had learned his lesson. He couldn't afford to be lax with him this time. He'd come too close to losing him permanently.

At last, it was over.

Hoarse from crying, Rex was too overwrought to notice. He clung to his father unconsciously and wept as the man drew him upright then enveloped him in a bear hug, his initial aches and pains from joyriding down Lakeshore all but forgotten now that his backside was ablaze. Never once had he imagined that this was what his brothers endured when Dad turned them over his knee. If he'd known, he sure as hell wouldn't have begged for it or even hinted that it was something desirable. Were it not for the fact that his nerve endings were screaming at him, he would have been certain his dad had killed him. Would he ever be able to sit his ass on a chair again?

Bit by bit, Rex realized that he would. His brothers never seemed to have a major problem parking their butts at the dining room table within twenty-four hours of punishment, and as he remembered that, plus the fact that they were all probably hovering nearby, listening to him act like a baby, he pulled himself together. So much for taking his first belting like a man.

Embarrassed at how miserably he'd failed to do so, Rex let go of his father and swiped an arm quickly across his eyes and runny nose, squirming to be released. Malcolm wasn't ready to cut short their first real hug in nine years, but he understood what his sixteen-year-old was feeling, so he compromised. He took a step back to give Rex some distance, but kept both hands on the teen's sagging shoulders to maintain physical contact. Rex tried to shrug him off to prove to both of them that he didn't need it, but the family patriarch wasn't buying his act, and soon enough, Rex stopped squirming. He still couldn't bring himself to meet his father's worried gaze, though, so Malcolm squeezed his neck gently then cupped his chin, forcing him to look up.

"You're mine, Reckless. You're my boy and I won't lose you," he said. "I know I haven't told you this nearly enough since...your mom left... but I love you. I've always loved you and I'm sorry I didn't show it before, but I'll do whatever it takes from now on to prove it."

Malcolm pulled the teen into another hug and held on tight, not minding that the boy looked vaguely suspicious and didn't return it. He knew he would in time. He just had to keep working on him. After a few minutes, he broke away but still kept a hand on Rex's shoulder.

"Is there anything you want to tell me?" he coaxed. "Anything you want to say about why you nearly broke your neck tonight?"

Rex shook his head. The only thing on his mind was how much his butt was still burning. He couldn't believe that he actually wished his dad had stuck to hand spanking him and he shifted his gaze over to the belt now lying on his bed as he winced and massaged his bottom. When he finally mumbled something under his breath about never doing anything to earn a second strapping, Malcolm caught his complaint and suppressed a smile.

"Then I suggest you re-think your behaviour over the last few weeks."

Rising to the challenge, Rex forgot about feeling shy. He set his jaw and scowled up at his father.

"What do you mean? I haven't done anything that bad."

"Oh, yes, you have and it's going to stop," As Rex started to argue, Malcolm gave him a hard look. "You've been under my roof long enough to know the rules, but what have I seen? You, breaking them one after the other, like you think you're exempt when you're not. The grace period you've been enjoying is over, Reckless. You mess up again – you do anything even remotely as dangerous as what you did tonight – and you and I are going to be right back here in your bedroom with your pants down and your backside over my knee getting a damn good spanking for it. That's how it works in this family."

To this, Rex scowled even harder and Malcolm knew he was on the verge of making some stubborn, childish retort about not really being a member of the family. To squelch it before it could begin, he decided to remind his third born about the consequences of his actions.

"You could have been maimed for life or killed outright, Reckless. Do you understand what that means? You could have ruined your future or torn this family apart, and it was only by the grace of God that you didn't. Lakeshore is a boulevard, son. It's not some country road out in the middle of nowhere with just a few passing rabbits to duck and dodge. If Folsher and those other drivers hadn't been paying attention —"

Rex didn't want to hear any more and cut off him off.

"All right, already, Dad. Quit bugging me. You made your point, okay? You don't need to keep lecturing me about it. I get it."

"You don't look like it."

Pleased that Rex was calling him "dad" again – and not just on reflex when his backside was getting whipped – Malcolm hoped that the boy would continue to do so after he'd heard what his father had to say next.

"I'm taking your boards away," he announced. "You'll get them back if and when I think you can be trusted again."

The infuriated look on Rex's face quickly switched to one of sly confidence and Malcolm narrowed his gaze.

"This is no joke, Reckless. You will NOT use your allowance to get yourself another board, you will NOT ask your brothers to buy you some new ones and you will NOT ride anyone else's, are we clear?"

Petulant once more, Rex wrenched himself out of his father's grip and stormed out of reach.

"Fine. Whatever."

"No," Malcolm insisted. "It's not "whatever". It's "yes, Dad, we're clear.""

Deliberately pausing long enough to show the old man he didn't mean a single word, Rex parroted what his father had just ordered him to say.

Far from satisfied, Malcolm knew nothing would be gained by butting heads with Rex right now. No doubt, the boy was too sore and upset to focus on any lessons his nagging father might be trying to impart and he needed some time alone to cool off. On the other hand, Malcolm didn't want Rex believing that his father was weakening again so he left him with a parting threat.

"I meant what I said, Reckless. Don't disobey me and don't test me. If you do, your butt's going to pay the price and I don't care if you're forty and I'm retired or if you're still sore from your last spanking. You may think when you look at me that I'm a lousy dad who won't follow up on his promises, but you're wrong. How you behave and who you hang around with matters to me, and the days of letting you run off and do whatever the hell you wanted are over. I strongly suggest you start watching your step."

"Like you'll even notice."

Muttering that to himself only after his dad had left, Rex still felt better for having said it. He'd been disobeying the house rules for years, and now, all of a sudden, he was supposed to trust that his daddy was going to start watching him like a hawk just because he'd gotten strapped once? Bullshit. This whole night was a fucking fluke and it was going to take more than some well-spoken words or a few licks with a belt for Reckless Barrett to believe it.

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