Part the Twelfth

Thom almost felt as though he was going to throw up. Little pieces of the puzzle slid into place as he observed the tableau before him: Jonny's entire body was trembling slightly, as though he had been kneeling in that position for some time and hadn't dared to move; there was a thick black collar locked around his neck, and trailing down from this was a leather strap to which his wrists were connected with wide, buckled cuffs between his shoulderblades, forcing his arms back at what looked like a painful angle. But there he was on his knees at Colin's feet, gazing up at his older brother unquestioningly, and Thom suddenly realised what Colin's envious glances in the studio had meant. He wasn't jealous of Jonny for attracting Thom's attention: he was jealous of Thom.

“Jonny hasn't been very good to you, Thom,” Colin said lightly, walking around to stand behind Jonny and kicking his bent legs further apart. “I don't blame you at all for being affected by his little flirtations – you are only human, after all – but I think Jonny should explain the whole truth to you, shouldn't he? Hmm?” He tapped one of Jonny's pinioned shoulders with the end of the cane; Jonny jumped, almost overbalancing, and looked up at Thom in mute appeal. “You can speak, Jonny.”

“I – I shouldn't have teased you, Thom,” Jonny said immediately, shivering visibly as Colin trailed the cane down his spine. “I... I was trying to provoke Colin. I wanted to make him jealous.”

“Why?” Colin slid the end of the cane lower, between Jonny's spread thighs, and his brother hissed; but he didn't move, didn't try to escape the gentle caress, merely closed his eyes briefly before continuing.

“Because you were spending so much time on Thom recently. I thought if I tried to get to you through him... it might work. That you'd claim me back.”

Colin chuckled fondly, retrieving the cane; for one stomach-turning moment Thom thought he was going to strike Jonny, but instead he slid one hand up and down the slim length of wood and tapped it against his open palm. “You've certainly succeeded in that,” he said, crouching down beside Jonny and catching his jaw in deceptively strong fingers, turning his brother's head to look into his eyes. The gaze that was exchanged between them made Thom feel weak and light-headed: Colin's expression was cold, measured, endlessly calculating; Jonny's, by contrast, was hot with desire yet utterly suppliant, as though he would trust Colin to the ends of the earth. “You see, Thom?” Colin straightened up, running a hand through Jonny's silky hair rather as though he was petting a dog. “Jonny needs to be claimed. To be possessed. Some people enjoy taking control, while others... they enjoy being controlled. And Jonny might run astray – he does need a firm hand to keep him in check, don't you, love? But he will always remember who taught him everything he knew... and he will always come back.”

Thom swallowed, his face heating further with every word that Colin spoke. Colin's small, pale fingers carded through the heavy dark hair, and Jonny's eyes were closed, cat-like, relishing in the special attention; Colin's other arm moved almost too quickly for Thom to register as he raised the cane and brought it down, with almost mathematical precision, across the back of Jonny's thighs. It was only Colin's hand in his hair that prevented Jonny from pitching forwards onto the floorboards; Thom saw the small fingers tighten their grip as Jonny instinctively jerked away from the sting of the blow, eyes flying open as he bit down on a cry. Thom hated himself for the way his cock jumped at the tiny sound that emerged from Jonny's throat.

“Thank you, Cozzie,” he breathed, and Thom almost came right there and then.

“You'll remember our safe sign,” Colin said, catching the back of Jonny's collar and pulling him to his feet. Thom noticed that the boy's knees were bruised where he had been resting on the floor for so long; he moved stiffly, awkwardly, as Colin smoothed his hair down and whispered soothing things to him while his hand trailed over the livid red welt he had left on Jonny's skin. Jonny nodded. “Up you go, then. And try to be quiet.”

Jonny sank onto the chaise longue, bending himself over its leather padded back in a graceful curve accentuated by the position of his arms, locked behind him. As he settled, Thom could see faded linear bruising across the top of his shoulders; it made sense now, to know where it had come from, and why the brothers had both lied to him. Thom might have considered asking Colin to stop before it had begun, if it hadn't been for the colour in Jonny's cheeks and the delirious sparkle behind the tears in his eyes; and when Colin used the cane to raise the silky fabric of the chemise up to Jonny's waist, exposing his bare arse and the gentle, feminine flare of his hips, and Thom saw the hardness of the boy's cock between his thighs, he understood what Colin meant when he said that some people enjoyed being controlled.

“I've taken it upon myself to discipline him,” Colin said conversationally, flicking the cane across the soles of Jonny's bare feet as Jonny struggled to spread his legs further apart, as wide as the furniture would accommodate. “He's always been the baby – the baby of the family, the baby of the band – and as such, people have always allowed him to get away with things, haven't they, Jonny?” He ran one delicate finger tauntingly around the leather arrangement that bound his brother's wrists, before allowing his hand to travel down to the small of Jonny's back, where he pressed down, forcing Jonny to arch his spine. “He'd never known the meaning of chastisement until I took him in hand. It's been... hmm... eight years now, I think. He used to be such a bad child, quite the brat, if I remember correctly – I do, don't I, Jonny? You can speak.”

“I was an awful brat, Cozzie,” Jonny said immediately, excitement and arousal accentuating his lisp.

“Quite. And you still are, in many ways. Acting like a spoiled child with a broken toy when his brother made some new friends... but he's learned, Thom, as have you, that the Club can help him. Routine is a poor way to ensure compliance.” This time, when he raised the cane, he brought it down hard between the cheeks of Jonny's arse with a noise like snapping wood, and Jonny screamed; Colin's hand was there instantly, tracing the mark left behind, and as Thom watched he realised Colin's fingers were trailing over the flat, black, disc-shaped base of something that had been pushed inside his brother... something that must have been there before Thom had entered the room. His throat constricted and he felt as though his face was on fire as Colin twisted and tugged on the plastic object, toying with it, Jonny writhing at the changing angle until Colin slapped his thigh and he fell still. “You haven't taken it out since I put it there, have you? You can answer. And trust me, I'll know.”

“No, Cozzie,” Jonny gasped, between deep, shuddering breaths. “It's been there all day, like you asked. Thank you, Cozzie.”

“Good boy.” Colin ducked down and pressed a kiss to Jonny's hip, while Thom stifled a squeak; Jonny had been to rehearsal like that, with that... that... thing inside him, and no one but he and Colin had known. “Nevertheless, it's a shame that you couldn't heed a simple instruction to be quiet, isn't it? Thom... your tie, I think. Make sure it's nice and tight. Jonny does need a lot of help.”

Thom slipped off his tie, feeling as though he was stuck in a very odd dream as he realised what Colin was asking of him. He moved to the head of the chaise longue, tilting Jonny's head up – Jonny stared at him, long dark lashes now wet with tears, the kohl smudged a little in a rather appealing way – and slid the length of fabric between Jonny's teeth, winding it around twice and securing it in a knot at the back of his skull. He hadn't noticed it at first because Jonny had kept his face hidden so, but there was something red on the boy's mouth – lipstick, he thought, his stomach twisting guiltily – which came off on Thom's fingers as he fumbled with the tie.

“I don't think I need to count, do I, Jonny?” Colin said, as Thom stepped back to admire his handiwork. “We'll both know when you've learned your lesson for tonight. And don't you dare to think about coming without my say-so. This isn't about your pleasure, or mine; it's about showing Thom where he stands, and because of the little games you've been playing, I don't really think you deserve anything this time.”

Thom counted, all the same.

The strokes landed at irregular intervals, in varying strength, in a scatter across Jonny's lower back, arse and thighs. Colin was every bit as skilled at this method of discipline as he had been with a belt or his bare hands; the cane never landed in the same place twice, nor did it ever break the skin despite the force of the blows. By the tenth strike, he was flinching with each fall of the cane; by the twentieth, he wondered why Jonny hadn't made their safe sign, whatever it was. By the thirtieth, in his mind he was desperately urging Jonny to get up, to stop this punishment, but by the fortieth he wondered if Jonny was even capable of doing so. But the boy's chin was still up proudly, and he hadn't made a sound after he'd been gagged; even though there were silent tears coursing down his cheeks, his mouth was curved into the beginnings of a smile. Thom noticed that he was arching back into each stroke; the movement was almost imperceptible, but it was there, and it shocked him more than anything else to know that Jonny liked this treatment. Jonny, the eternal wallflower, the man who blushed at Ed's rude jokes, the quiet boy who'd sat shyly in the corner of the music room while the others played at being in a band – the one who'd eventually outshone them all – wanted to be hurt.

He lost count, and wondered whether Colin stopped only because his arm was tired. As Colin loosed the tie from Jonny's mouth and handed it back to Thom, he distinctly heard Jonny's voice, hoarse with arousal, say, “Thank you, Cozzie.”

Jonny's skin was an unbroken wash of reddish-pink, tinged with bruised purple where the cane had landed harder. Jonny gave a keening moan, high in his throat, while Colin ran his hands over the heated flesh. “Such a good boy, really,” Colin was murmuring to him, although his eyes were turned to Thom as he spoke. “I shouldn't neglect you so, should I? I should have expected that you would look for fulfilment elsewhere. Always so needy, so desperate, it's not fair on you to leave you alone.”

Colin clasped the flat black disc tightly, easing the thick plastic cone out of his brother's body and swiftly replacing it with three of his own fingers, pushing them in and curling them until he found that place that made Jonny arch up into his touch, fists clenching and pulling against the heavy cuffs that encircled his wrists. “You can come,” he whispered in Jonny's ear, just loud enough for Thom to hear, and clapped his palm to Jonny's mouth to muffle the scream as he twisted his hand and Jonny's release spattered across the leather. The climax seemed to decimate him, and he sagged in his bonds, shaking and sobbing openly, while Colin draped himself over his back and stroked his hair and face, leaving a trail of kisses along his cheek and neck. “I think you can go now, Thom,” Colin said quietly, and Thom did.