Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/92703.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Smallville
  Relationship:
      Clark_Kent/Jason_Teague
  Additional Tags:
      Kink_Meme, Spanking, Dom/sub, Anal_Sex
  Series:
      Part 1 of Paddle_'verse
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-04-02 Words: 3638
****** Red Cheeks ******
by twinsarein
Summary
     Clark made a mistake on the field, Coach Teague decides there needs
     to be consequences.
Clark just finished with his shower after the game and is wrapping a towel
around his waist, when the boom he's been waiting to drop finally falls.
"Kent! Get in here!"
Clark flinches. He'd been hoping he'd be able to escape before Coach Teague got
around to him. "I'll be right there Coach, I just have to get dressed."
"Now, Kent! Unless you want to do this out there!"
God, no, he did not want that. Clark hurries to Jason's office, followed by
catcalls and commiseration, and closes the door.
"Lock it."
Quiet, menacing tone from the assistant coach and it makes Clark shiver in
apprehension. He stiffens his shoulders and locks the door, noticing then that
the blinds have all been drawn and he can barely hear his boisterous teammates
from the locker room.
"Coach…"
"Quiet, Kent!"
Clark presses his lips together and looks miserably at the floor as Jason paces
in the small confines of his office.
Finally, he stops in front of Clark, his fists on each hip. Clark swallows and
hunches his shoulders a little. Of course, trying not to be noticed isn't going
to work here.
"What were you thinking, Kent?!"
Clark has to gulp a breath and gather his courage before he can raise his eyes
and look his coach in the eye. "Coach, I'm sorry…"
"Sorry! You're sorry. We'll isn't that just peachy keen. That just makes
everything all better, doesn't it? Tell me, Kent, what good is your apology to
me, your teammates, or even the other team?"
The man was practically breathing fire, and Clark has to struggle not to lower
his eyes. "I…Coach…we still won, didn't we?"
"Oh, Clark. You should know that it isn't all about just getting the win. How
you get the win matters too."
The soft, disappointed tone was worse than the anger from earlier, and Clark
wishes the coach would go back to yelling at him.
"Okay, Clark, this is how it's going to play out. There has to be consequences
for what you did. There weren't any on the field, luckily for you, so there
will have to be some in here. You can either take those consequences like a man
or you can quit the team. Your choice."
Clark straightens his shoulders and lifts his chin. "I'll take whatever
consequences you think necessary, Coach."
Jason smiles for the first time since Clark walked into the office. "Good
choice, Clark." He walks across his office to his closet and pulls out a
paddle. "Assume the position over my desk, Kent."
"Assume…what? Coach, what…what are you going to do?" Clark eyes the paddle with
disbelief, but no real fear. It can't hurt him after all.
Jason notices Clark eyeing the paddle. "Quite a piece of wood, isn't it? I
carved and sanded it myself from a piece I found by Crater Lake."
Clark looks at the paddle more nervously. "Crater Lake? There are lots of
meteor rocks out there, are there any embedded in the wood?"
Jason twirls the paddle in his grip and gives a few practice swings. "Not that
I've noticed. Enough procrastinating, Kent. I'll take it from your reaction
that you haven't ever been spanked before, am I right?"
"It's certainly not something my parents ever did."
"Okay. Assume the position means to bend yourself over my desk, spread your
legs a little, and brace yourself with your hands or on your bent
forearms…unless you've changed your mind. You can still do that and choose to
leave the team instead."
Jason's voice is implacable, giving no room for argument or debate. Taking a
deep breath, Clark silently walks over to the desk and bends over, rests his
forearms on it and spreads his legs apart.
Clark can hear his coach walking across the floor to him and then feels a hand
on his lower back. "Okay, Clark. Ten strokes, and I'm not going to spare my
arm. If you straighten up before I'm done, you're telling me you've changed
your mind and would prefer to leave the team. Count them for me, after each
one, or I'll have to start over. Got it?"
Clark simply nods and rests his forehead on his arms, praying that it'll be
over soon. It might not hurt him, but it's still humiliating. It gets even
worse when the coach whips his towel off and drops it to the floor, leaving him
completely naked. He feels embarrassed, exposed, and vulnerable. Two of which
were very new feelings for him. "Don't forget to count, Kent."
Is it his imagination, or does Coach's voice sound a little hoarser than
before? All thoughts flee his mind, though, as the first strike comes down on
the middle of his ass and pain blossoms outward from there. He jerks in shock.
"Shit, that hurts!" Clark tries to turn around to see the paddle again, but
feels Jason's hand resting lightly on his back, reminding him that if he moves,
he's off the team.
"Do I need to start over again already, Kent?"
"No!"
"No, what, Kent?"
"No, Coach!"
"Good enough. Well?"
What did he…oh. "One!"
"Good job, Kent."
The second one lands on his right ass cheek, and Clark tries not to voice his
pain this time.
"Two!"
The third lands on his left ass cheek, and Clark is grateful that the blows are
at least being spread out, although his whole ass feels like one big bruise
already.
"Three!"
The fourth lands on the center of his ass again. Clark can't believe how much
it hurts. The pain is radiating outward from his ass, spreading down his legs
and up his back.
"Four!"
Clark braces himself for the hit on his right cheek and jerks when it lands in
the center again. He gasps and raises his head. It hurt so much, but part of
the shock is because of the twitch in his cock. Surely he imagined it!
"Kent!"
"Five, sir!"
"Good man."
The sixth one lands in the exact same spot as the last two, and this time Clark
can't deny it. His cock is definitely starting to fill. The smacks from the
paddle still hurt, but the pain that it's causing is starting to turn into
something else, something unexpected, and Clark doesn't understand it at all.
It's like he's being touched in all those places the pain is reaching to. Like
harshly caressing fingers touching in a dozen spots at once.
"Say it, Kent! This will be the last time I remind you!"
"S-s-six, sir!"
"Very good. You're doing well, Kent. You're over half way done. Only four more
to go."
Clark's breathing hitches when Coach Teague reaches out and strokes his lower
back. Jason may mean it to be comforting, but in the state Clark is in at this
point, the sensation is wildly arousing instead. Coach Teague's thumb just
brushes over the top of his crack and he whimpers under his breath and his cock
fills a little more.
Then the touch is gone and, with no more warning than that, two smacks fall in
quick succession, one on each cheek.
Clark's whole ass feels like its on fire, but his cock is almost completely
full now, and that's providing a heat all its own.
"S-seven! Eight!" The words are a muted moan now. An acknowledgement of both
the pain and the arousal.
Clark tries to move a little closer to the desk, so he can get a little
friction on his erection. He isn't given much time though. The last two smacks
fall on the center of his ass again, and make his cock completely full. He
hears the coach gasping behind him and figures that's because he's been
exerting himself.
"Nine! Ten!" No more than gasps, and now that they're done he has to work not
to drive his throbbing erection into the desk to get some relief.
Clark slumps even more against the desk and struggles to get himself under
control. He stands up, hands dangling at his sides, clenching into fists, but
doesn't turn around. One of the coach's hands lands on his shoulder. It makes
Clark work hard to repress a shiver, then the other hand reaches around his
turned back and gives him his towel.
"You did good, Kent." The coach pauses to clear his throat, and Clark can't
figure out why the man's voice is so husky. He isn't the one that had shouted
out the count. Of course, Clark doesn't dare to turn around to look either.
"You took it like a man, and it's over. You'll do better on the field next
time, so this doesn't happen again. Now, go on out, get dressed, and go
celebrate with your teammates."
Clark tenses up at the suggestion and resists Coach Teague's efforts to get him
to turn around. "Coach…"
"What's up, Kent. You don't have to be embarrassed, you know. You aren't the
first one I've taken the paddle to, and you probably won't be the last. You
might get teased for a few days, but it'll blow over quickly. You'll see."
Jason starts rubbing soothing circles into the troubled boy's back.
"Coach…I…that isn't the problem." Clark still can't bear to turn around, but
knows he's rapidly running out of time. The coach's touch on his back is not
helping his problem at all. He's starting to leak. Just one drop so far, but
he's never been so turned on and not been able to come before. He doesn't know
how long he can hold on.
"Feeling too sore to get dressed? I've got some ointment around here that
should help with the sting." Jason throws the paddle past Clark and onto the
desk. Clark is too distracted by finally seeing the paddle again to pay
attention to what the coach is saying or doing. He looks it over and, sure
enough, there are specks of green scattered through it. He'd bet anything that
the stuff was in the soil out there, that it grew into the tree the wood came
from somehow.
Some of it's probably loose on the surface of the wood too. The way his ass is
still stinging, he figures he's got a little on his skin. Not much, obviously,
or he'd be feeling very weak, but apparently enough to affect the
imperviousness of his skin and to make his healing abilities slow down. He
reaches out to run a finger over it when he hears the coach's voice again from
directly behind him.
"This is only a topical cream, Kent, so I'm going to check and make sure I
didn't break the skin, okay?
"Coach, no! I…Oh God!" Clark's protest doesn't get very far because his coach
kneels behind him and starts running his hands all over his ass, and he can
feel the man's breath on his heated and sensitized skin. His erection, that had
finally been flagging, fills at the gentle stimulation until he's even harder
than before. He has to lock his suddenly trembling knees, so they won't
collapse from under him. A gasping groan torn from him as his imagination works
overtime, seeing the coach crouched behind him, mouth just inches from his
skin.
Coach Teague's touch turns caressing, fingertips gliding over the surface of
his ass, ghosting over the length of his crack, and Clark's breath shudders out
of him. "Clark…why can't you go out to the locker room?"
"Coach…please…I…" He breaks off with a moan when he thinks he feels a tongue
ghost over the top of his crack. The touch is so light though, that he isn't
sure, at least he isn't until he feels the air hit the moisture left behind by
his coach's tongue. He moans again, this time louder.
"Show me, Clark."
The simple command makes Clark sway, and he has to grab the desk he's still in
front of to steady himself. When he feels he's back in control of his limbs, he
slowly turns around to face his coach, the man still on his knees, but leaning
back on his heels.
"Oh, Clark." The reverent whisper makes Clark blush, but he jumps and then
moans some more when the man reaches out to run a single finger over the length
of his erection. "Is this because of what I did?"
Clark simply nods his head, his voice dying in his throat as Jason continues to
run a finger up and down his shaft. His mouth opens in a soundless shout when
the man seals his lips over just the tip and gently sucks, swirling his tongue
around to collect the precome leaking from the slit.
When he finally pulls back, Clark is trembling from head to foot. "What do you
want, Clark?"
When Clark's arousal clouded mind deciphers the question, he can't keep his
gaze from skittering to the paddle he can see from the corner of his eye. He
hears the coach's indrawn breath and quickly turns his head back around.
Jason gets to his feet, standing close enough that if both men take a deep
breath, their bodies will touch. He turns his head to look at the paddle, and
like a magnet to it's polar opposite, Clark's head is pulled in that direction
too. Clark's breath hitches when the other man reaches out a hand and runs it
over the surface of the paddle.
"Do you me to paddle you some more, Clark?"
Clark looks away and nods his head jerkily.
Jason grab's Clark's chin and forces him to turn back. "Look at me when I talk
to you, Kent, and answer my question!" With his other hand he reaches down and
simply holds Clark's erection in his hand. "Well?!"
"Coach…"
"Yes or no, Kent."
Clark forces himself to keep his eyes on the man in front of him. "Yes." All he
can force out is a whisper, but it seems to be enough.
Letting go of Clark, Jason gets something from his desk and slips it into his
pocket. He grabs the paddle and then goes to sit down on the couch. "Over my
knees, Clark!"
Clark jumps at the barked out command and starts moving towards the couch
before he even realizes it. Hesitantly, he lowers himself over Coach Teague's
knees, ass in the air, and puts his hands out to brace himself on the floor.
Jason shifts the younger man around on his lap a little, and Clark draws in his
breath in a hiss when he realizes that his erection is caught between his
coach's thighs. He moans at the feel of Coach Teague's hand on his still sore
ass, caressing from one side to the other. "Don't come until I say you can,
Clark. Understand?"
Clark turns his head to look over his shoulder at the older man. "Yes, Coach, I
understand."
Jason pats Clark's ass in satisfaction. "You're learning, Clark. Well done."
Without any further conversation, Jason starts lightly slapping the ass in
front of him with the flat of his hand. He makes sure to cover the whole
surface, increasing the force of the blows as he continues.
Clark figures his theory about traces of the Kryptonite on his ass must be
correct. While the slaps don't hurt too much, they're uncomfortable and the
warmth spreading through his body makes him squirm on the man's lap. His
erection is rock hard and leaking, dotting the coach's pants with precome.
"Coach…please." Clark arches his ass a little higher into the air, hoping the
coach will take the hint.
"Behave, Clark, or I'll stop right now."
Clark whines, but lowers his ass, and submits to the continued spanking. After
a few more minutes of harder and harder slaps, Clark realizes that the slowly
rising force of the blows masked how much they hurt. His ass is on fire
already, and the coach hadn't even touched the paddle yet.
Clark starts to squirm in earnest, but Jason presses his legs together. The
feeling of his cock being squeezed by two muscular thighs causes Clark to gasp
and moan.
Suddenly the coach stops and starts circling his palm over the bright red ass.
He trails a finger into Clark's ass and rubs over the wrinkled pucker. "Coach!"
Clark can't help it, he has to arch up again, to get closer to that maddening
finger. He starts thrusting up and then driving back down through Coach
Teague's thighs.
"Stop, Clark, right now! If you come without permission this all stops right
here and you'll never feels this paddle again."
"More, coach! Please, I…I need more…please...please…AHHH!" Clark's pleading
trails off and becomes a shout when, without warning, the paddle comes down on
his ass hard. "Yes!"
Without mercy, the paddle comes down on his ass over and over again. This time
the older man doesn't vary the strokes at all. Every hit falls on the same spot
and Clark can feel the pain radiating throughout his entire body.
He's never felt anything like this in his entire life. The entire surface of
his skin seems extra sensitive to the least little sensation. Every shift of
the coach's clothed body against his naked skin is amplified tenfold, every
stroke of the man's other hand along his back and sides sends tingles to his
cock. When the knees caging his cock suddenly squeeze together, Clark almost
comes and only the coach giving a vicious tug on his balls staves it off for a
little while longer.
"Coach! Coach…please…I need…please, I have to…I need…oh, god! Please!"
Suddenly the spanks of the paddle switch to the tops of his thighs and the
bottom of his ass. Every swat jostles his balls and makes them draw up even
more. Clark is reduces to a continuous whine, the added stimulation shorting
out his thinking.
Knowing how close Clark is getting, Jason puts just a little more force into
the blows. "Come for me, Clark. Come for me now."
The words open the floodgates for Clark and he's shooting his seed all over the
floor and Coach Teague's pants leg.
The force of the orgasm leaves him dizzy and dazed, and he continues to lie
over the other man's knees, trying to recover. So out of it is he, that he
doesn't notice anything his coach is doing until he feels two lube-slicked
fingers pressing into his orgasm relaxed hole.
Clark can only whimper as Jason gives him no time to recover, just plunges the
fingers in and out, twisting and turning them until Clark's bucking in his lap.
"Is that it, Clark? Is that your sweet spot? How does that feel?"
Clark writhes on the other man's lap, panting hard, and recovering fast. When
his coach's fingers slide over and over a certain spot inside of him, flashes
go off inside his eyelids. "Coach! Good, so good. Please, Coach…I want…I need
more."
"Don't worry, Clark. I'm going to give you everything you need." Jason adds a
third finger and just fucks Clark with them as hard and fast as he can, until
the younger man is incoherent in his need. As soon as Clark starts to babble,
Jason removes his fingers and slaps the ass still over his knees, twice. "Stand
up, Clark."
Clark is so unsteady on his feet that Jason has to hold him upright for a few
seconds. When his wobbly legs firm up, Jason guides him around until he's
kneeling on the couch, facing the wall.
Unbuckling his belt, Jason pushes his pants and underwear down to his thighs.
He quickly rolls on a condom and lubes up. "Brace yourself on the back of the
couch, Clark." He waits until the younger man is in position and then he
spreads Clark's ass cheeks and just pushes until he glides all the way in.
Clark whines high in his throat at the fullness in his ass. When Jason finally
starts to move, Clark's whines turn to whimpers and he pushes himself back
against the cock filling and stretching him.
As soon as Clark starts to respond, Jason speeds up. His balls are slapping
against Clark's ass, and the heat radiating off those cheeks and knowing he's
the cause, has Jason on the edge very quickly. "Touch yourself, Clark. I want
you to come again. I want to feel your hole spasming around me as I empty
myself into your ass. Come on, Clark."
Clark does as he's told and takes himself in his hand. He starts driving
himself back onto Jason's cock and forward into the tight channel he makes with
his fist.
Jason changes his angle a little and shifts Clark until every stroke in presses
against that special spot inside his lover. Clark's rhythm falters and then
speeds up as he nears his second climax. Knowing Clark is close, Jason pulls
back his arm and brings his hand down hard against the younger man's ass. Once,
twice, three times and Clark is filling his hand with come.
The contractions around his cock pushes Jason over the edge as well, and he
pulses over and over into Clark's ass. He slumps against the slightly bigger
man's back and tries to get his breath back.
Collapsing onto the couch together, in a tangle of arms and legs, they hold
onto each other and just barely manage to keep from sliding off. Clark leans
forward and touches his lips to his lover's. Jason opens his mouth and they
kiss lazily, enjoying the chance to slowly come down from their high.
After several minutes of soft touches and stroking tongues, Clark looks up at
Jason with a twinkle in his eye. "You know, Coach, I've done a few things wrong
that you don't know about…"
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