Steve shudders, body tensing, his ass flexes and- god he's so pale, like porcelain. Sam likes the contrast in tones between that ass and his palm.
Steve just likes being punished.
“Stay still,” Sam commands, making Steve tense again.
His muscles squeeze and then relax. His hands are tied behind his back so they clasp together again as Steve forces himself not to squirm. “I'm sorry,” he says, nearly a whisper.
Sam sympathizes for him, petting his hip, and says, “You're good, just be still okay?”
“Yes sir.”
Slowly Sam slides his palm down, letting it smooth over the small swell of Steve's ass, all tight and muscular, just like Steve all over. “I'm gonna spank you now, ten times,” Sam says, rubbing over Steve’s ass to warm him up.
Steve nods and tries to relax against the bench. Skin slick, easily moving against the leather of it. He brings in a heavy breath, saying, “Yes sir,” on exhale.
Sam likes that he's the one getting to do this for Steve.
“You're gonna count each hit.”
Steve nods again, saying, “Yes sir.”
Sam looks down at Steve's ass once, admiring the clarity of his skin there before quickly lifting his palm and bringing it down. Just hard enough that the skin turns soft pink.
“One,” Steve breathes, tensing.
Sam doesn't linger, picking up his hand to bring down another slap.
This one makes Steve's breath catch, heavier against his ass. His feet squirm against the floor, body moving against the bench. But he still counts, “Two,” clearly.
This time Sam lets his hand sooth out the redness of Steve's ass some.
“You gonna learn your lesson after this?” He asks, before suddenly bringing his hand down again. The third and fourth come in rapid succession, making Steve writhe against the bench some. His breathing makes his ribs move, back flexing, but he relaxes his face against the material of the bench. His sweat getting it all slick.
Steve sobs, pushing his ass back desperately. His voice comes out hoarse, kind of wet. “Yes sir. Thank you sir.”
Sam surprises him by laying down another his, this one with a lot of fucking arm behind it. Steve's hips fuck forward against the bench and he chokes, crying out softly.
“You didn't count those last ones,” Sam informs him, soothing his hand again over Steve's warm ass. Angry red from getting hit.
Steve makes a sound that's all broken, shifting and whining, “I'm sorry sir, I- I won't.”
But Sam cuts him off before he can finish his pleading. “So what was that one?”
“Five,” Steve says quietly, hands clenching the bench. His eyes are shut tight, face red, brows furrowed. So broken apart that he's like a fucking baby.
Sam just wants to make him fall apart.
“Good,” He starts, “Five more.” Quickly another one is laid out, ricocheting off of Steve’s ass.
Steve cries and says the number and then allows Sam to lay down the last four in almost rapid succession.
His ass is fucking ember red and so hot that it feels like it's on fire. But Steve cries out softly, thanking him in such a soft voice that it's like he's in heaven. Like Sam pulled him out of his skin.
Sam rubs over his ass a little, feeling the heat of it under his hand and Steve keens back into that, needing to just get touched.
Sam's a real fucking fan of touching him. He runs his palms over his ass again and asks, “Now you'll be good, won't you?”
Steve nods his head, so torn up.
It takes everything in Sam not to tell him that he's always good.