Chapter Text
My knuckles were bruised like violets
Sucker punching walls, cursed you as I sleep-talked
Spineless in my tomb of silence
Tore your banners down, took the battle underground
And maybe it was ego swinging
Maybe it was her
Flashes of the battle come back to me in a blur
Olivia often wondered what possessed Tony to want her. Maybe he was a masochist, but that didn’t make sense. He didn’t seem to relish pain in any aspect of his life outside of what she inflicted on him. He wasn’t lacking in intelligence, though there were times she wondered.
Like right now. Any person with half a brain cell wouldn’t stick their head in a hungry lion’s mouth; that was just common sense. The same common sense dictated giving Olivia a wide berth when she was on the warpath. Of course a sane person, if given a choice between the two, would risk it with the lion.
Perhaps he was mental, then. Olivia knew some truly unhinged individuals, too; many from her very own family tree. Cousins no one talked about, the uncle who was no longer invited on holidays after the Dreadful Capybara Incident, a couple of arsonists.
But of all of them, not one had ever looked at Olivia the way Tony did when she was losing her shit. Sometimes he smiled as if he was watching a spectacular sunset. Other times, like he’d won the lottery. Perhaps the most perplexing of all was when he chuckled as though she was saying or doing something absolutely delightful when she was, in fact, burning the world to the ground; much like her pyromaniacal relatives. Not that they held a candle (or a well-scorched twig) to Olivia. No one did.
“Darlin’, I think you’re a lil’ stressed.” Tony had snuck up behind her, wrapping his arms around her middle and pressing kisses to the top of her head. “You know he already loves you, right? Ain’t nothing to be nervous about.”
“I’m fine,” she retorted through gritted teeth. Nothing to see here.
“Mhm. You sure? ‘Cause your shoulders are in your ears and you been lookin’ madder’n the snake that married the garden hose.” She snorted at the colloquialism as he nuzzled her hair.
“Dammit, Spencer, why can’t you just let me be a bitch?”
“Babydoll, that’s one.” The warning was only in his words; his tone was as cheerful and gentle as before.
“Fuck off,” she huffed, making a move to stomp on his toes before he lifted her off the ground.
“I don’t think I will,” he chuckled, kissing her neck as she kicked her feet. “Not by myself, anyways. That activity’s a lot more fun with you.”
“I don’t have time for your shit, Spencer,” she complained. “We have to leave for the airport in 9 hours and I am not packed.” She left out the details about her having been packed twenty minutes prior, before she decided she hated everything in her suitcase and dumped it out on her bedroom floor. He had eyes, he could figure that out for himself if he wanted to.
He swayed back and forth, her feet still several inches from where she would prefer them. “We got time, baby. When’d you eat last?”
“Recently enough,” she lied, convincingly enough for anyone who wasn’t him.
“Lunch?”
“Obviously.”
“Mhm. Lunch today?”
“…Perhaps.”
He sighed. “Darlin’…”
“I’m not hungry,” she protested. “You can’t force feed me like some Christmas goose.”
He stifled a laugh, but she could feel his shoulders shaking and she would have head butted him if she had the right angle. “That there’s an image that’s gonna stay with me for a while. I’m not gonna force you, sugar. But I think you know I gotta spank you.” He lowered her slowly to the floor, reversing course when she kicked backwards at his shins. “What’re the rules, Liv?”
She became dead weight in his arms, her head lolling back onto his shoulder at an angle where she could sufficiently glare at him. “Fuck you.”
He took advantage of the opportunity to kiss her mouth. Lovesick prat. “Yes please. Rules first, though. What are they?”
“If I tell you, will you put me down?”
He made a show of considering her words. “Hmmmm. Dunno yet.” His breath was warm on her neck, sending chills down her spine. And not even the bad kind, damn him. “I think I’m gonna spank you, feed you, give you an orgasm or three, then have you take a nap.”
She rolled her head to the side, away from his face, while maintaining her jelly-like form. “I will let you do…two of those things. Four if we’re being technical. The other two you can shove up your arse. You get one guess what they are.”
Tony’s laughter should have grated on her, but despite her best efforts, it suffused her heart with warmth. Dammit. “That’s a lot of numbers there, baby. Might need you to repeat ‘em for me, I’ve never been real good at math.”
She huffed, wriggling in his hold. “You’re fucking ridiculous.” He looked far more delighted with himself - and with her - than he should, by all accounts.
“Still waitin’ on you to tell me your rules, darlin’.”
“Fuck’s sake, Spencer. No negative self-talk and a minimum of two meals a day. Happy?”
“Dunno if I’d go so far as sayin’ I’m happy, but I do appreciate your cooperation.” At long last, and far too briefly, her feet were reunited with her bedroom floor. The next moment, she was facedown over Tony’s lap with her torso on the bed. She grabbed a pillow and got comfortable; they’d probably be here a while.
Tony’s hand spanked a familiar circuit over her backside. Left, right, center, top to bottom, stopping at her thighs. The warmth wasn’t unpleasant, but Olivia wouldn’t kid herself. They were just getting started. After a few rounds over her yoga pants, Tony gently tugged them down and resumed his steady trail of sharp swats back and forth. “You ready to talk about what’s buzzing around in that beautiful brain of yours?”
Her refusal to respond never bothered him the way it had other tops, who always insisted she give them a “yes” or a “no.” Tony preferred to let her settle into her sessions over his knee and talk when she was ready. Sometimes it took a few minutes, sometimes a good deal longer, but they got there eventually.
Without any fanfare, Tony bared her bottom and started in with more frequency and intensity than before, now that she was warmed up. “Your feelings are valid, darlin’, and I’m not tryin’ to negate that. It’s just…you and Chris are best friends. I’m trying to understand what’s got you so spooked about meeting him in person.”
Olivia shook her head, letting out a shaky exhale. “You know it’s different, Spencer.” She flinched when his hand came down hard on a bit of well-warmed skin.
“I know, sweetheart.” His voice was as tender as his hand was punishing. “But is it really that different? How many hours have y’all spent just hanging out on FaceTime? How many mornings have you woken up still on the phone with him from the night before? Can you tell me what’s so scary about this?” He paused, rubbing her stinging bottom. “Do you need paddled?”
Olivia, for the first time that day, let her guard down. “Yes, please,” she whispered.
“Alright, darlin’.” Without leaving her spot, she was able to pick up their small leather paddle from its current resting place on her bedside table and hand it to him. Just large enough to cover a decent amount of skin on each stroke, but small enough to get to the harder-to-reach places. He had paid extra to get it engraved with the words ‘Yes, ma’am.’ It was his gift to her during their “six-month date-iversary,” which she insisted was made up. Nevertheless, she was thrilled with the gift. That evening she had communicated her enthusiasm quite effectively with her own gift for him. Tony still blushed whenever he thought about it.
The sound of the leather on Olivia’s bare skin nearly made Tony wince, but he kept at it until she was squirming involuntarily and her cheeks were bright red. Then he shifted just slightly to give her sit spots the same treatment. As the color evened out between her cheeks and her thighs, he could hear the barely-audible whimpers of distress that suggested she was close to catharsis.
Finally, he saw her shoulders shuddering, the telltale sign of release. Tossing the paddle to the side, he pulled her up, positioning her bottom in the space between his legs.
“Hey, Darlin’,” he soothed. “You took that like a champ.” She buried her face in his neck, winding her arms around his waist and clinging for dear life as he rocked her gently. He pressed kisses to her temple, down her neck and her shoulder, whispering praise and affection into her skin.
“I don’t know, Tony,” she whispered brokenly through her tears. “If he sees me - really sees me - if I scare him off, I lose you both, and I can’t bear the thought of it.”
Those words - and the fear in her voice - broke Tony. Coaxing her out of her hiding place, he cradled her face close to his, their tears falling in tandem. “You really think that, baby?”
All she could do was nod, her face crumpling and splitting Tony’s heart open as she hid behind her hands. “Oh, Livvy…What can I say to convince you that’ll never happen?”
“You don’t know that,” she protested tearfully, muffled by her palms over her mouth.
He gently pulled her hands away and cupped her face, holding her gaze. “I do, because I know Chris, and I know you, and I know he’s gonna love you at least as much as I do. We’re already sold on you, baby. You got nothin’ to prove. I promise. Trust me?”