Pairing: Rick/Andrew
Implement: Paddle
Warning: boring farm terminology
Author: Jenny

Leaning against the fence post, Andrew watched closely as Rick
snapped the full head of wheat from its stalk, half-holding his
breath, although he was unsure exactly why. Waiting, as Rick rolled
the wheat between his large hands, and then gently blew away the
chaff to leave the plump grains cupped in his palm. After
inspecting them for signs of maturity, Rick let the kernels fall
into the soft dirt of the field and dusted off his hands on his
jeans. "Another week, at least," he announced.

Letting his breath out in a sigh, Andrew turned away from his
partner to hide his disappointment. Crouching beside the Collie
that had followed them out to the field he stroked her bony head,
breathing deeply to try to ease the now familiar tightness in his
chest. He looked up and smiled unconvincingly at his lover, who
stood behind him, gently mimicking his own soothing petting of the
dog. Running his fingers through the thick waves of Andrew's
hair, he asked softly, "What's wrong, Andy?"

"Nothing," he quickly answered, turning his attention back to
the dog. He had slowly begun to trust the happiness he had found
the past six months living with Rick but now with their first
harvest imminent he couldn't shake this pervasive sense of

Rick pulled Andrew to his feet, turning him to study his face.
"You feel all right?" he demanded.

Andrew snorted at his partner's concern, he was a young man in
obvious good health, "Of course, I'm fine," he assured

"Got something to tell me?" Rick teased, patting Andrew's
firm backside, confident that his lover's conscience was clear. He
knew Andrew guilty and this wasn't it but the other man's
anxiousness was almost palpable.

Punching him lightly on the shoulder, Andrew laughed and said
virtuously, "Ha! I've been good."

"That's a switch," Rick said in mock seriousness. "You must be
sick." He pulled Andrew close and his voice sobering said, "You
let me know if there's something wrong, Andy. Okay?"

Andrew nodded, keeping his head against Rick's shoulder, not
wanting to reveal his troubled eyes. Releasing him with a bone-
crunching squeeze, Rick turned and started the long walk towards the
house, expecting Andrew to fall in beside him. But his partner
stood motionless, looking over the seemingly endless field of wheat,
the stalks already bending under the weight of their heavy tops. He
scanned the sky anxiously, as he had innumerable times already that
day. It was as unblemished as ever but the sight did nothing to
reassure him.

"Andrew?" Rick stopped at the edge of the field and held out
his hand to his partner.


They had just finished supper when they heard a truck pull into the
yard, followed by the usual raucous din of the dogs that greeted
everyone that came to the farm. Rick got up from his chair to look
out the kitchen window, checking to see if a stranger needed to be
rescued from their attention. "It's Don, he must want that part for
his tractor," Rick said, as he recognized his oldest brother's

Not bothering to knock, Don let himself in the back door that led to
the kitchen, greeting the two men with a smile. He was a lankier,
older version of his brother, both men having the dark hair and eyes
of their Métis mother. A quiet man, which the equally reticent
Andrew had found difficult to get to know, his large farm was only a
short distance away. Rick poured a cup of coffee that the other man
gratefully accepted and took a seat at the table beside Andrew.

"Your crop looks good. The best I've ever seen it."

Rick glowed in his brother's praise, "It's probably 30 bushels to
the acre."

"Is it ready?" Don asked and took a sip of his coffee.

"Next week, maybe. What about yours?"

Nodding, Don answered, "We start combining tomorrow."

"Are you sure you don't need our help?" asked Rick, obviously
not quite convinced.

"Yes, I'm sure," he said firmly. "I've got a crew coming, it's
just too much for me to handle by myself. And you've got your
own crop to look after," he added meaningfully.

"I know," Rick bristled slightly. "You don't have to worry about

"Oh, I know," Don said, his eyes sparkling with humor. "It's just
a habit."

Andrew grinned, enjoying seeing this side of his very competent
partner, but he couldn't help wishing they would be starting
combining tomorrow too. God knows what could happen to their crop
in a week he thought morosely; it could hail, or snow, or....the
band around Andrew's chest tightened at the thought of all the
possibilities for disaster, none of which he could prevent.


Starting slightly at the sound of his name, Andrew asked,

"Don asked if you'd help him find that tractor part. Did you
put it in the Quonset?" Rick prompted.

"Yeah. Sorry," Andrew answered, flustered at being caught
daydreaming, he jumped to his feet and headed for the door. He
quickly located the part in the tidy shed and helped Don load it
onto the bed of his truck.

"If you need some help fixing that tractor, just let me know,"
Andrew offered.

Don shut the tailgate with a loud bang. "Thanks, Andy."

"You're lucky, starting harvest so early," said Andrew
with obvious longing.

"You're worried," he stated, eyeing the younger man.

"No, no I'm not worried," Andrew denied, flushing in
embarrassment. He didn't want to give the impression he didn't have
faith in his partner.

Shrugging, Don said matter-of-factly, "Andy, everybody worries
this time of year. The waiting is the hardest part."

"Yeah," he admitted, relieved he wasn't the only one.
"It's about to kill me."

Don smiled at his dramatics. "Farming's not for the faint of
heart," he said ruefully and patted his shoulder.

"That's for damn sure," Andrew agreed.

Swinging up into the truck cab, Don laughed, "You'll survive."

But Andrew wasn't so sure as the next week dragged by in
excruciating slow motion. Several times Rick tried to draw him out
about what was bothering him but he stubbornly refused to
acknowledge his increasing nervousness. He didn't want to add to
Rick's considerable stress right now; he needed to be a real
partner to him.

Finally, one night, unable to sleep, he slipped out of bed and went
downstairs to the kitchen to sit at the table, nursing a bottle of
beer in the hope it might leave him drowsy enough to drift off.
Andrew's heart thumped when he looked up to see Rick in the room's
doorway, dressed in boxers and blinking sleepily at him. "Andrew?"
he asked, dismayed to find him drinking alone in the middle of the

Andrew ducked his head, and began to pick nervously at the
bottle's label, not able to meet Rick's eyes. The beer was
gently swiped from his grasp and Andrew winced as he heard the
unmistakable sound of the remains being poured down the sink.

"Come on," rumbled Rick's deep voice, taking his hand and
tugging him to his feet. Unwillingly Andrew trailed after him to
the couch, settling with his back against Rick's solid chest when
they sat down, not wanting eye contact. Rick's warm hand rubbed
comfortingly on Andrew's flat stomach and he said, "I
understand, Andrew if you're having second thoughts. If moving in
was too fast for you. You can tell me."

Andrew protested vehemently, "No! I'm not having second
thoughts, I swear." Twisting around, he could see the obvious
relief in his lover's eyes at his answer.

"Then you need to tell me what's wrong, Andrew. You're
clearly not happy. I'd hoped you trusted me enough to share your
worries with me, but I guess we're not there yet," Rick said

"I do trust you," Andrew said quickly, shocked at how hurt
his partner was by his shutting him out. "But you don't need
to be holding my hand, babying me, when you've got so many things to
worry about. You need someone stronger, better...." he choked on
the words.

"Do you tell me what I need?" asked Rick calmly, feeling his
lover trembling under his soothing hand.

"No, sir," Andrew replied, trying to steady his voice.

"I know what I need, Andrew," Rick said firmly. "I need
you. And you need to tell me what's got you so worked up."

"It's just that I'm not really sure," Andrew admitted
miserably, ashamed at his lack of insight.

"You seem real anxious about the crop," Rick offered.

"Yeah," he said reluctantly, even though Don had assured him
that it was normal to worry, he knew his anxiety was far beyond what
anyone would consider reasonable.

"It scares you, not knowing what's going to happen," Rick

"I'm not scared," growled Andrew, trying to squirm away
from Rick.

Tightening his grip, he settled Andrew firmly against him and said
evenly, "It is scary for you. Not having control over
everything, I know. But you have to learn to deal with it Andy. You
work as hard as you can and then you have to let it go."

"I don't know if I can do it, Rick," he said desolately.

Rick paused for a moment, thinking. Encouraging Andrew to examine
his feelings was difficult; so used to suppressing his emotions,
introspection was a skill he was still developing. "Tell me,
what about it worries you so much?"

Andrew shrugged, "What if it hails, or snows?"

"That's why we have crop insurance," Rick said, beginning
to appreciate this was about more than the harvest. Rick had
explained the workings of their farm in detail; Andrew knew all of
the aspects that would protect them.

"Yeah," Andrew conceded, not visibly reassured.

"Then what do you think is going to happen?" When he didn't
get an answer he finally asked in mild exasperation, "What's
the worst case scenario?"

Andrew stammered, "We don't get the crop off, ...we lose the
farm," he stopped, unable to go on.

It was a situation that Andrew, rationally, knew wouldn't happen
but it was obviously something that he worried about. "Okay,"
Rick said gently, hoping this was going somewhere useful. "Then

"Then you move back in with one of your brothers, I guess,"
Andrew murmured, twisting his hands together in distress.

Rick sat for a moment, dumbfounded that his partner thought that he
would be cast aside at the first rough spot, then he said with all
the conviction he could, "Andrew, we're both strong young
men, if we ever lost this farm, we could get jobs, save our money
and buy land together somewhere else."

The thought of Rick leaving his family's land that meant so much
to him, awed Andrew and he said in disbelief, "You'd do that
for me?"

"Andy, I'd do anything for you," Rick said simply, his
eyes filling with tears at the realization that Andrew didn't
know that. He felt the gradual release of tension in the man in his
arms, a long shuddering breath signaling the easing of his fears.
Turning him around, Rick kissed him deeply, and said huskily, "I
love you, Andy."

"I love you too, Rick," Andrew said shyly, his hand moving
tentatively to his lover's groin, feeling the growing hardness
there. He stood, pulling on Rick's hand, "Let's go to
bed, okay?"

"You finally tired, Andy?" Rick teased, letting himself be
drawn to his feet.

"No," said Andrew, smirking. "I'm not tired."

The two men made their way to their room, where they eagerly tumbled
onto the bed, tangling themselves in the blankets in their haste.
Breathing hard, Rick knelt and balling up the bedcovers in his
hands, he impatiently threw them onto the floor. Pinning his
lover's hands on either side of his head, he kissed him
forcefully, and then scratched his cheek, rough with stubble,
against Andrew's jaw before licking and kissing the abraded skin.
Finding Rick's mouth again and returning the kiss with equal force,
Andrew arched his hips upwards to grind against Rick's groin. His
thumbs hooked into the waistband of Rick's shorts, pulling them
down over the swell of his muscular bottom and squeezed the solid
flesh in his hands.

Rolling off his partner with an impatient growl, Rick tugged off his
boxers as Andrew quickly stripped off his T-shirt and underwear.
One of Rick's large hands caught Andrew under his knee and
flipped him over onto his front. Positioning himself between
Andrew's thighs he insistently nudged them farther apart with his
knees and circled his waist with a powerful arm, pulling his hips
upwards. He leaned to grab the bottle of lube from the nightstand
and poured a liberal amount into his hand. After wetting his
fingers in his palm, he dragged them down the center of Andrew's
bottom, stopping to circle his opening and then cruelly ghosting
over it, prompting a cry of outrage from Andrew. When Rick again
passed over the sensitive spot, he thrust his hips back, trying to
impale himself on the teasing fingers. But Rick said sternly,
"No, keep still."

Andrew whined in frustration but he immediately stilled his
movements, panting with need. The fingers returned but this time
one of them gently slipped inside Andrew, drawing an involuntary
moan from him as he struggled to remain motionless. Rick bit into
Andrew's cheek and then soothed the small pain away with his
tongue, as he continued to twist his finger deeper. Andrew's
hips writhed uncontrollably at the dual sensations as he lost his
battle to stay still. Immediately the fingers were removed and
Rick moved back, not touching his lover. "Keep still," he
reminded him.

"I'm sorry, sorry," Andrew babbled desperately. Obeying
Rick seemed the most important thing in the world right now and he
concentrated on keeping his hips immobile. One of Rick's fingers
lightly traced Andrew's inner thigh, causing him to tremble,
until he reached his balls, which were gently cupped and rolled in
his lube-slicked hand. Andrew once again felt the pressure of
Rick's fingers at his opening, this time two of the thick digits
penetrated and stretched at the tightness, leaving him incoherently
moaning into the bed. Rick watched, deeply aroused, as Andrew
reveled in the intense sensations brought by his skilled hands.
Sensing his lover was reaching the edge; Rick removed his fingers
and positioned his cock at Andrew's softened opening. Andrew was
too excited to even tighten in anticipation of being entered and he
groaned loudly in pleasure at Rick's thickness filled him. He
reached instinctively to his own cock to stroke himself in time to
Rick's thrusts but both his hands were grasped and pinned to the
bed by Rick's larger hands. Mercilessly Rick fucked him, quick
smooth thrusts and long shuddering pulls, the two men's
corresponding cries of pleasure loud in their quiet room. "Rick,
please,"begged Andrew and Rick released one of his hands which
immediately flew to his weeping erection.

Wrapping his arm around his lover's chest, Rick sat back on his
heels, bringing Andrew upright with him. Deeply impaled now, Andrew
arched his spine, resting the back of his head on Rick's
shoulder, both men gasping for breath. They paused for a moment as
Andrew gently rocked on the thick cock inside him, until Rick, with
a loud moan, bucked his hips and knelt up, driving his lover forward
onto the bed again. Andrew only lasted for a few more strokes
before coming hard, the waves of his intense contractions triggering
Rick's orgasm.

Collapsing on the bed, they lay spooned together as their pounding
hearts slowed and their ragged breathing returned to
normal. "Andy?" Rick whispered and laughed softly when he
heard an answering snore from his lover. Carefully he slipped from
the other man, and went to the adjoining bathroom to clean up,
returning with a wet cloth to gently clean his soundly sleeping
partner. Smiling with satisfaction, Rick retrieved their blankets
from the floor, covered Andrew and settled into bed himself.
Knowing nothing could disturb the deep sleep of his exhausted lover,
Rick lightly traced the prominent cheekbones and kissed the parted
lips softly.


With the easing of Andrew's insecurity, he returned to his usual
agreeable state and although he remained concerned about the
upcoming harvest, it was not the all consuming anxiety of the
previous days. It was still a relief, to both men, the next day
when Rick deemed the wheat sufficiently ready to start combining.
Andrew hardly slept that night in his eagerness to begin and he was
out of bed to dress well before dawn.

"How long have you been up?" asked Rick, when he found his
partner in the kitchen finishing making their breakfast.

"Not long," Andrew hastily assured him, as he poured coffee
into thermoses for each of them to take out to the field.

"I hope not, Andy. It's a long day and you don't want to
be tired starting out," Rick warned.

Rick was right. By the end of the day as they emptied a load of
wheat from the combine into the grain truck, Andrew was definitely
feeling the effects of, not only the previous night's poor rest,
but the accumulation of his many nights of restless sleep. So
Rick's instructions were filtered through a fog of exhaustion and
Andrew failed to take them in.

"When you get to the bins, Andy you can set up the auger but
don't start the motor until I get there." Rick ordered.
"I'll drive the half-ton over when I'm done."

"Sure, sure," Andrew said absently, already turning over the
engine of the huge truck, impatient at what he judged their slow
progress of the day. Rick was staying to finish the last few rows
of wheat left in the quarter section they'd been working.

When he reached the steel storage bins next to the barn, Andrew
jumped down from the truck with a renewed sense of urgency as dusk
approached. Clumsy from fatigue, he fumbled repeatedly while
setting up the auger that was used to move the grain from the truck
to the bin. After starting the motor, he watched with growing
irritation, the sluggish upward movement of the grain. He was eager
to return to the combine in hopes of having more of the grain safely
taken off before nightfall. Distracted by his thoughts he was
oblivious to the danger as he bent close to the churning grain,
shoveling the last of the wheat into the auger. Over the sound of
the motor he didn't hear the shout of alarm that came from his
partner who had just driven up in his truck.

"Andrew," he yelled, as he stumbled out of his vehicle and
ran hard towards the other man. "Get away from there!"

There wasn't time for the slight tug on the sleeve of his
coverall to even register on Andrew's consciousness before he felt
Rick's strong arm around his waist, yanking him back. Caught in
the sharp edge of the auger, the thick material gave way with a loud
rip as it split to the elbow. The two men fell backwards onto the
hard dirt, Rick keeping his arm around Andrew as they lay sprawled
on the ground.

"Christ, Andrew. What were you thinking?" Rick asked
breathlessly, his voice quavering with emotion. Reaching for
Andrew's arm, he said, "Let me see."

Rick traced the vivid red welt on his lover's wrist, unable to
stop the horrible image of Andrew's hand being severed from
entering his mind. Getting unsteadily to his feet, he reached down
and helped Andrew up. After he decisively shut off the auger's
motor he nodded towards the farmhouse and said, "Come on, we
could use a drink."

"I'm all right," protested Andrew, trying to twist his
arm from Rick's grip without success. "Let's get back to

"No," said Rick flatly. Andrew was steered relentlessly
towards the house, his arm released when they were safely in the
kitchen and Rick pulled out a chair for him to sit on. Flopping
down hard onto the seat, Andrew didn't attempt to hide his
disgust at being there and opened his mouth to object again but Rick
was already at the sink, filling the kettle with water. Neither of
the men spoke until Rick set the mug of sweetened tea in front of
Andrew and sat down at the table with his own drink.

"I didn't want tea," Andrew said, his face falling in
disappointment. He had expected a healthy shot of rum or whiskey
but his comment was ignored with apparent indifference by his
partner. Andrew watched as Rick sipped his own tea with obvious
pleasure and in resignation he raised his own cup to his mouth,
relaxing in the quiet. Until Rick asked sternly, "What did I say
about the taking the grain to the bins, Andrew?"

Andrew sputtered in his tea, as his stomach did a slow roll in his
belly, the awareness that he was in trouble abruptly hitting.
"I…I don't remember," he said, nervously wiping the
back of his hand across his mouth.

"I told you to wait until I got there to start the motor,
didn't I?" Rick demanded.

A vague recollection of Rick saying something like that twigged in
Andrew's mind but it had been lost in his tiredness and haste.
He shrugged helplessly, "I don't know."

Growling in frustration, Rick set his mug down with a thump, "So
you weren't even listening to me? "he demanded, shaking his
head in disbelief. "What's the rule about the auger,

Keeping his eyes glued to the table, unable to look at his partner,
Andrew recited unsteadily, "Don't go near the intake when the
motor's running." He risked a glance at Rick's face; it
was still a little pale from the shock he'd give him and the
muscles of his jaw were clenched in annoyance. "I just…..
forgot," he said lamely.

"Forgot?" Rick repeated incredulously. "How many men do
you know who have lost their hands that way, Andrew?" he demanded.

"I know," Andrew agreed, desperately trying to appease his
partner. "It was real stupid. I won't do it again, I
swear." The extent of his carelessness was not lost on Andrew;
he knew he could expect to be soundly disciplined and his stomach
clenched at the thought but that concern vied with the need to
return to work before darkness fell. So when Rick slowly got to his
feet and held out his hand for him to take, Andrew tucked both of
his hands obstinately under his arms. Shaking his head hard, he
pleaded, "Later, okay Rick? Please?"

His tone softened and Rick said, "We tried that before Andy.
Remember? It only makes it harder."

Andrew blushed, the one time he had managed to convince Rick to
delay a punishment, he had worked himself up to quite a state during
the postponement. "We need to get back to work," he tried.

"No, we're finished for the day," Rick said determinedly.
"Come on. Let's get this over with."

This time when Rick held out his hand, Andrew forced himself to take
it, knowing he was only delaying getting back to the field. It was
bad enough that Rick had to take this time to discipline him but it
wasn't quite dark and despite what Rick had said, Andrew was sure
he could convince him to continue working.

They walked into the living room and Andrew waited nervously by the
couch while Rick went to the desk in the adjoining dining room to
retrieve the paddle that was kept there. When Rick returned, he sat
down and pulled Andrew down to sit beside him. With his eyes and
attention completely riveted on the small oak paddle that Rick held
in his hands, Andrew tuned out the beginning of his partner's
lecture. "What?' he said blankly when Rick nudged him,
expecting an answer to his question.

"I asked you why you were so close to the auger." Rick ground
out, clearly at the end of his tolerance for Andrew's not
listening to him.

"I was in a hurry and the grain was moving so slow. I just
wanted to help it along," explained Andrew, as if this was a
perfectly reasonable thing to do.

"And just how do you think losing your hand in the machinery will
speed things up?" Rick asked, horrified at his partner's
casual attitude towards his own safety.

Andrew shrugged, "But I didn't."

"You came so damn close, Andrew." Rick put his head in his
hands, reliving the awful moment when he saw Andrew was caught. He
took several deep breaths, controlling the strong emotions that
welled up. "So you didn't bother to listen to me and then
completely disregarded the rules I gave you to keep you safe," he
said sternly. "Is that right?"

Jesus, this wasn't sounding too good, thought Andrew but he
nodded his agreement, albeit very reluctantly.

"Why?" Rick said, clearly exasperated. "We talked all
that through I thought. There is no reason to half kill ourselves
getting this wheat harvested. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," Andrew answered, his fingers nervously twisting
the torn fabric of his sleeve. "It's just that I'm not
really used to being careful, you know?"

Rick nodded unhappily; his lover often had an appalling lack of
regard for his personal safety and coupled with an impulsive streak,
his body had endured a lot of injuries over his young life.
"Well, get used to it Andrew. Because I am going to wear you out
every time you do something careless," he promised grimly.

"I'll try," he replied hesitantly.

"You'd better do more than try, Andrew," Rick warned.
"Right now I know more about farming than you do and you need to
pay attention when I tell you something. I don't give you very
many rules to remember and the ones I do, are important."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry. I'll remember next time,"
Andrew assured him. "Please Rick; you don't have to spank
me." He longed to submit with silent dignity to the punishment
he had definitely earned but it was beyond his grasp. The promises
and pleas that came unbidden from his mouth were a source of great
mortification to Andrew. He was no coward, he had faced far greater
pain without a murmur but there was something about the intimacy of
a spanking at Rick's hands that forced the words out in an
uncontrollable stream. Not that it ever had any noticeable affect
on Rick, while he never shamed Andrew for his protests; he was never
swayed by them either.

And sure enough, Rick was standing up to toe off his boots and shed
his bulky coveralls, leaving him in a T-shirt and boxers. "Come
on," he said to Andrew as he helped him to his feet. "Take
those off." Reluctantly Andrew took off his boots and fumbled
with the long zipper of his coverall, Rick easing his clothing off
his shoulders and pulling it down for him to step out of, leaving
him similarly dressed. Sitting back down on the couch, Rick drew
his partner between his knees and grabbed the waistband of his
shorts to tug them down. "Don't," begged Andrew,
covering his partner's hands with his own and trying to pull away.

"That's enough now," Rick said, with sufficient firmness
that Andrew took a shaky breath and managed to let his arms drop to
his sides, allowing his underwear to be pulled down. He quickly
found himself positioned over Rick's lap, his upper body resting
on the soft material of the couch, his toes trying to find a
purchase on the smooth hardwood. Rick pushed Andrew's shirt
half-way up his back, exposing his bottom completely which prompted
him to squirm in apprehension. "I'm sorry," Andrew
wailed. "Please Rick, don't."

"Shhh," he soothed, waiting until Andrew settled somewhat.
"Just listen to me, Andy. Accidents happen all the time. A
moment's distraction and you could be seriously hurt, even
killed. You know that. I need to KNOW you're going to listen and
be careful out there or I'm not going to allow you anywhere near
the machinery."

"No!" protested Andrew, panicked at the thought of not being
permitted to help in the field. "Please, I swear Rick. I'll
be so careful. I promise." His eyes filled with tears of
distress and his breath came in short, frightened bursts.

"I mean it, Andrew. You damn well better listen to me when
I'm telling you something. And you don't operate any of the
machinery when you're alone."

"Yes, sir," answered Andrew, relieved he wouldn't be
banned from the rest of harvest.

Rick brushed a few pieces of straw away that clung to Andrew's
back before picking up the small paddle. "This is for not
listening and for being careless," he emphasized before bringing
down the paddle with a sharp crack. He only raised it a few inches
above Andrew's bottom but he spanked without pause, swatting so
rapidly that his lover didn't have time to deal with the intense
sting. A spanking designed to cause a lot of initial discomfort but
that would fade within a short time, the last thing Andrew needed
was to be sitting on a sore backside while combining the next day.
Within a minute he was writhing on Rick's lap, unsuccessfully
trying to lessen the burning sensation in his bottom. His gasps
soon turned to tears and quickly to wails as the paddle flew over
his reddening cheeks and thighs. He knew he'd never put his hand
anywhere near an auger without his backside reflexively burning. It
took a moment after the paddle quit falling to still his kicks and
stop his instinctive twisting and Andrew cried harder when Rick's
calloused hand gently rubbed his back, signaling the end to the

"All right now, all right," Rick said softly, as he lifted
his sobbing partner up and cradled him against his chest.

Andrew burrowed his face against Rick's warm neck and cried hard,
allowing himself the comfort of being held for a few moments before
he struggled out of his lover's strong arms. He stood
unsteadily, yanking his underwear up over his bottom with no regard
to its condition and picked up his coveralls from the floor.
Desperately choking back his cries, he wiped his wet face on his
shirt and said unconvincingly between sobs, "I'm all right,
now. Sorry. We can go back to work."

Rick stared at him in amazement; his partner was the most stubborn
man he'd ever met. He stood up and took the coveralls from the
shaking hand of his lover, saying gently, "No, Andrew. We're
done for the day. We're going to have a shower and go to

"No!" argued Andrew, trying to remove his clothes from
Rick's grip. "I'm fine."

Dropping the coverall on the floor, Rick tucked Andrew under his arm
and delivered two sharp swats to his already tender bottom.
That's all it took for Andrew to burst into full fledged crying

"What did I say about listening?" he asked sternly, returning
to the couch and holding Andrew tight against his chest.

"I'm sorry," sobbed Andrew. "I just want to be a
good partner to you."

"You are," Rick assured him. "You're everything I
want, Andy." Soft and malleable after his spanking, Andrew heard
the words and let himself believe.

The End