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"Before we start, remind me why we're doing this?"
Merlin takes a slow, rough breath, trying to focus on the gentle pressure of Lancelot's hand on his back. "Because I was unkind."
The click of Lancelot's tongue is small but speaks volumes. "In detail, please."
"I was rude to you and Arthur when you were just trying to help."
"Good." Lancelot's praise washes over him, helps take a small bit of tension out of him. "So, how many do you think you deserve for this?"
"15, sir?"
"Hm. I think you can take 20."
Merlin gulps, knowing immediately that this is a punishment he's going to feel in his bones tomorrow, but he nods nonetheless.
Lancelot starts to pull down Merlin’s breeches ever so gently, completely at odds with what they're about to do. "Tell me the rules, Merlin."
"I have to count out each stroke. If I don't, we start over." Reciting the rules is second nature at this point. "Camlann if I need to stop."
"Good job. Ready to start?"
Merlin breathes in and out slowly, then nods. "Ready."
He braces for the first hit, but when it comes, it's gentle, more of a swat than anything. He jerks on instinct, but Lancelot drags him back into place without a word.
"One, sir."
The next few are just as light, but when Merlin counts out five with a bit too much attitude, the next one is harsh, an open palm right on his sit spot, and he cries out loudly.
"Watch yourself, Merlin. Do you want me to add more?"
Merlin shakes his head and croaks out an apology, even though there's a voice in the back of his head saying 'yes' so desperately.
"Then count it out and be good." He scrapes rough nails across the now raw surface of Merlin’s ass, and it's all Merlin can do to rasp out 'six' and beg for more.
After that, Lancelot doesn't hold back, and the rest of it flies by in a haze of heat and heavenly pain. Every spank is fire on his skin, and every time Lancelot starts massaging the sore spots, he feels that much closer to tears. It's the most beautiful suffering, and Gods, it really has been too long since Lancelot took him apart like this.
The very last hit, in contrast to all the rest, barely feels like anything. It's a soft pat to the one spot left uncovered, and something about the gentleness is what finally breaks Merlin. As soon as it hits and Lancelot doesn't pick his hand back up, a ragged sob breaks out of him.
Immediately, he gets scooped up into Lancelot's arms, those same rough hands rubbing a gentle circle on his back as he presses kisses to Merlin’s face.
"Hey, it's okay, you did so good, Merlin." Lancelot's words are like a salve for all ills, and he clings on tighter. "You were perfect, alright? Absolutely perfect."
Merlin just nods and buries his head in the crook of Lancelot's neck, letting himself fall apart because he knows Lancelot has him.