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“What were you thinking?” Enjin demands, slamming the door to his room as soon as Zanka has stepped in, holding Lovely Assistaff close to his chest.
He knew this was coming, after a long drive back spent in painful silence. Rudo had fallen asleep next to him at least, too tired to demand them stop stewing. Zanka had spent the whole ride picking at the tape around his staff, trying to avoid the piercing gaze of his mentor from the front seat. Even more concerning was that Enjin had smoked without break nearly the entire time, crushing his way through whatever was left in his current pack by the time they were pulling back up to HQ.
Not that he could say it was unfair. He’d been stupid, running headfirst towards a trash beast Enjin had ordered him to avoid. He wasn’t entirely sure why, maybe it had sounded too much like a challenge, or maybe it was his long-standing desire to push himself into improving at all times. Either way, Enjin had needed to save his ass, barking at him to get the fuck back while he dealt with it. Those had been the last words he’d spoken to him directly until now, the rest of the cleaning spent with a tight ball of embarrassment in his chest.
Umbreaker was shoved into its holder next to the door, and then Enjin was pulling his jacket off and throwing it at the desk a bit too sharply. Zanka could only bite his lip as he watched his mentor grumble, running a hand through his hair in clear exasperation. It was hard not to flounder with anxiety in these moments, before Enjin had taken time to truly calm himself, even if he knew he wouldn’t raise a hand to him before he had.
“I don’t talk just to hear myself think, Zanka. If I tell you not to do something, you damn well shouldn’t do it. Do you just think you know better than me?”
“I… no.”
“Then what the hell was that, kid?”
He fights back the urge to sniffle. He isn’t a little kid, no matter how Enjin refers to him, he isn’t going to start crying before he’s even faced the consequences like some baby. He can be brave through this, take his licks like he should and keep his head as high as he can.
“I don’t know.” Despite his conviction, it still sounds painfully weak on his tongue.
Enjin sighs, shaking his head lightly. “At least you’re honest. Find a corner kid, I need to think for a minute.”
Zanka nods weakly, looking to the corner in disdain. He knows better than to test Enjin on something like this though, unless he wants his punishment to involve a grounding from cleanings (and in general) too. He makes his way to the desk first, leaning assistaff against it carefully where she won’t fall. Pads over to the corner on socked feet, glancing back at Enjin once.
The man looks tired, sprawling in his desk chair with a hand over his eyes, and Zanka feels a pang in his stomach at the idea that his mentor looking that way is his fault. Compared to that, the corner is easier to look at. Tracing his eyes over the yellowed edges of peeling wallpaper. It might have been a nice colour once, but now it’s just nicotine stained and water damaged, barely gripping onto the sheetrock underneath. He finds himself focusing on a cigarette burn before too long, pressed right into the corner a bit higher than his own eyeline. Has someone been putting Enjin in the corner? Surely not.
His thoughts continue to wander, avoidant of the situation but unable to really latch onto anything else for more than a few seconds, until Enjin finally clears his throat behind him. “Alright, come here Zanka”
He turns slowly, expecting to see Enjin sitting on the bed, hand wrapped around the same worn paddle he always uses for these talks. For the dread that plummets in his stomach each time, knowing he’ll be sleeping on his stomach. Instead the man is standing next to the bed, a weary look on his face and his hand wrapped around the buckle of his belt, folded over once and dangling ominously. Zanka feels himself freeze, ice curling in his spine as he takes it in.
“This is our third talk this week, Zanka. Clearly I’m not getting through to you, so we’re trying something new.”
“But…” He isn’t sure what to say past that. But I don’t want it? Don’t deserve it? Enjin would surely refute him on both without a moment of hesitation. That he couldn’t handle it? That just wasn’t true, he had taken far worse damage than a belting even just on light jobs, it was embarrassing to even suggest. His brain scrambled for something, but nothing else came, just the icy dread of what was coming.
“Okay..” He finally manages, squaring his shoulders to try to appear more confident than he is. If Enjin is going to belt him like a man, he might as well do his best to take it like a man. Men don’t freeze up and get scared of a little thing like that, right?
Enjin gestures him over, and his confidence carries him approximately three steps before the dread creeps back over it. Steps faltering just before he gets within arm’s length of his mentor, stopping like lead bricks under him. Enjin spares him the shame of being stuck at least, taking the last step towards him and putting a hand on his shoulder gently.
“Listen, Zanka. I care about your safety during cleanings, because I care about you. I wouldn’t be upset if I didn’t, and I certainly wouldn’t take the time to spank you. You know I’m not good at emotional stuff, I would’ve kicked you off my team a long time ago if I didn’t care for you and trust you.”
Zanka swallows thickly when Enjin pauses to take a deep breath. The words are as sharp as they are warm, digging into his insecurities with precision and only making the guilt in his chest sit heavier somehow. He hates the way he can feel tears already threatening the corners of his eyes, feeling less like a man and more like a little boy with each word.
“That said, you damaged that trust today. I need to be able to trust that you’ll listen to my orders out there, even here for that matter. I need to know that I can take my focus off you for a minute and trust you to be safe when I do, especially now that Rudo is with us. I should ground you for this, you aren’t proving to me that you’re very safe in the field. But I won’t, I think we can handle this between us now. If this happens again any time soon though, you will be getting the belt and a grounding. Are we clear?”
“Clear.” He mumbles, eyes fixed on his feet and ears surely red.
“Alright. You’re laying over the bed for this one, but you can hold my hand if you need to.”
Zanka’s face flushed brighter at the words. At the implication that he of all people would need his hand held for a spanking. And yet, he doesn’t say no, as Enjin sets the belt aside and sets to work unbuckling all Zanka’s little straps. Setting his side bag next to the bed, then the ones around his thighs, with a mutter about why he would possibly need to carry so much.
There’s something soothing about having Enjin do it, instead of telling him to do it himself. A show of care that makes his heart warm, but heats his face in equal measure. Reaching down to try to help just gets his hands batted away and a stern glance though, so he lets his mentor do as he pleases. Each layer of his pants carefully taken off to not damage them, his jacket unzipped with scarred but gentle hands.
Finally he's left in just his shirt, a pair of loose boxers, and his socks. Something he might wear to sleep, but would rather die before being seen in by anyone else. He wasn’t ashamed of that with Enjin at least, he had been here enough times before. Enjin never let his eyes linger on his scars, or commented on his hips being too thin, or wrinkled his nose in disgust at the sight of him. He just meets his eyes, warm but firm, and ruffles his hair gently.
“Come on then kid, let’s get this over with.”
Enjin guides him over the bed carefully, putting a pillow down under his hips for extra support. When his hand taps Zanka’s in offering he takes it, face flushed but lips sealed. His boxers are peeled down next, falling to his ankles as he whines a bit.
“Sorry kid, need to be able to see what I’m doing.” Enjin offers, giving him a gentle pat on the back before he picks the belt back up. It looks imposing from this angle, craning his neck over his shoulder to watch it. It’s simple, something he’s sure Enjin has probably worn about a million times, and softened with use. If anything it looks a little too worn for him to believe it still offers any support, but it only makes him more worried in this situation. Leather that loose surely packs a sting.
Enjin doesn’t give him long enough to contemplate it further, or any warning more than the sight of him lifting his arm up. The first lash takes his breath, somehow worse than he had envisioned, an entirely different league from the paddle he’s accustomed to. The second one has him crying out, flinging his free hand back to protect himself before his brain can catch up.
“Woah there, I don’t think you want leather on your knuckles.” Enjin chides, but doesn’t move the hand himself, giving Zanka time to recover. Zanka’s a little too shell-shocked to appreciate it, sucking in a few deep breaths that shake in his chest and looking back at the other with wide eyes.
“That hurts!” He finally manages, petulant and disbelieving.
“Kind of the point, I’d say. C’mon Zanka, sooner you move your hand the sooner we can finish this.”
The teen can only whine at the words, burying his face into the bedsheets to muffle it. After a long moment his hand does move though, pulled back up to grip the blanket next to his head so hard his knuckles turn white. Enjin gives his other hand an encouraging squeeze, but lands the belt again before he can change his mind.
Each lash feels worse than the last, Zanka swears. Working their way down his ass and thighs until the lowest one bites into him like a bee sting, tears bubbling up quickly. Overall it doesn’t hurt too bad yet, once the skin settles down to a low simmer after the initial pain, but the guilt burning through him pulls them out faster than the pain does. Dripping down his cheeks and along the bridge of his nose before soaking into the blanket under him.
The belt lands at the top again and he whines with it, hips shifting in discomfort. He doesn’t buck or kick, muscle tensed like stone, but even he can’t stop the involuntary twitch of his muscles in response.
“If I tell you something, you do it Zanka.” Enjin lectures alongside the swats now, spaced carefully around his words to make sure Zanka hears them, tone stern and low. “Whether that’s telling you not to go after something, or to support Rudo or Riyou in battle, or even if I tell you to go to your room here.”
Zanka nods his understanding frantically, more tears bubbling down and making his skin itch. He’s never going to ignore Enjin again, never going to submit himself to this again, he swears.
“Verbal response, little boy.”
He whines again at the words, tummy twisting as the title settles into a soft little spot in his brain. Here, in Enjin’s room with his ass out, that’s all he is. A little boy getting spanked for being naughty, not a man.
“I’ll be good!” he cries out after another swat, finally letting his toes drum against the floor underneath him. “I’ll listen, promise!”
“I’m sure you will.” Enjin agrees, the next strike landing on his sensitive undercurve and pulling a shrill sound out of him. He can’t even be bothered to feel embarrassed anymore, as the words and feelings push everything else out of his mind and replace it with what feels like cotton.
“Because if you don’t, you’ll be right back here. Crying while you get spanked and sleeping on your stomach.”
Zanka hiccups around a sob at the words, at the idea of getting spanked any more than he already is right now, shoulders shaking. He doesn’t want to be in trouble anymore, one sob turning into another and the blanket under his chin firmly wet with tears now. Enjin doesn’t stop though, the belt crashing down against his thighs again without mercy.
“Anything you’d like to say for yourself?” He asks, lifting an eyebrow even though Zanka isn’t looking at him any more, too busy being miserable and small to care what faces Enjin is making at him.
“‘M sorry!” He chokes out, kicking his legs in earnest for a moment before they go limp again. “Be good, promise, no more p’ease! ‘M sorry!”
Enjin nods to himself at the words, tone softening now. “Good boy, almost done.”
He lands three more, right against the sensitive strip that Zanka will have to sit on tomorrow, that have the boy practically shrieking into the bed. Then he’s tossing it aside, and gathering the boy into his arms carefully. Sitting in the spot Zanka had just been laid to hold him.
“All done kiddo, you’re okay. No more.” He soothes, voice soft and fingers carding through the teen’s hair gently. Zanka's hands dig into the fabric of his shirt desperately, hiccuping on another weak sob as he buries his face against Enjin’s neck. He looks nearly as tiny as he feels like this, knees pulled up and shoulders shaking.
Enjin soothes him through it, rocking him gently until his sobs subside to hiccups, and then to soft breaths as his muscles loosen and his eyes start to droop. He pulls his head back with another soft sniffle, meeting Enjin's eyes for only a second before they dart back down like a shy toddler.
“I‘m sorry…”
“I know,” Enjin soothes, rubbing his back in gentle circles. “You’re forgiven, clean slate kiddo. When we wake up tomorrow we’ll start fresh, and have breakfast together, yeah?”
“Mhmm.” Zanka agrees sleepily, tucking his face back into Enjin’s neck with a yawn.
“Alright kiddo, let’s get you tucked in.”