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The knock at Cass' bedroom door had been going on for at least five minutes. Rhys, ever the patient one, had started with polite taps before escalating to firm, authoritative knocks.
"Markham, open up."
Cass ignored him.
"Come on, mate. You've been in there all weekend."
Still nothing.
There was a pause, then Jasper’s gentler voice came through the door. “Cass? Please?”
That almost got a reaction. Almost.
But Cass just rolled over, staring blankly at the ceiling, the faintest outline of sunlight bleeding through his closed curtains. His head ached, his limbs felt heavy, and he just… couldn’t. Not today.
Not when every time he closed his eyes, he saw his ex-boyfriend storming out.
"This isn't working," Gavin had spat. "You're supposed to trust me. Not throw out some stupid safe word the second it gets intense."
Cass had barely managed to choke out "Red" before the session had tipped too far, before the pain had blurred into something not good, not safe. Though he had pleaded with him, promising to be better, to be whatever Gavin needed him to be, that calling Red had been a horrible, awful mistake – all of that had just been flung right back in his face. Gavin had grabbed his toothbrush and then he just… walked out.
Cass squeezed his eyes shut. Five days since the breakup. Five days since he had eaten anything more than toast, five days since he had done anything but lie in bed, ignoring his phone and the WhatSlapp messages from his friends.
Clearly, those very friends were done letting him wallow.
There was some heated whispering on the other side of the door. Then, Jasper’s lilting voice, sweetly: "Well, if you won’t come out, I suppose we’ll have to call in reinforcements."
Cass groaned into his pillow. Anything but that.
Rhys hummed. "You’re right, Jasper. They’ll know exactly what to do."
Cass bolted upright. "Don’t you bloody dare."
But still, he refused to open the door. Let them try.
--------------------
“Alright, where is he?”
Sebastian’s voice was far too loud for this small a flat. Cass pulled his blanket over his head, as if that would somehow protect him from the force of nature that was Sebastian Hargrave.
The next thing he knew, his bedroom door slammed open, and there was a flurry of movement before a human missile in the shape of Sebastian threw himself onto Cass’ bed.
"Ugh, finally!" he groaned, kicking at the blanket tangled around Cass’s legs. "This place is so dull without you around. I was forced to actually do my homework, Cass. Homework."
Cass turned his head just enough to glare at him.
Seb wasn’t deterred. "Come on, this is ridiculous. You need fresh air. You need sunlight. You need—"
"—to get up, because we’re going to the beach."
Cass barely reacted, but then his eyes landed on the doorway.
Viggo stood there, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe. He was as broad and solid as ever, his dark hair falling just past his shoulders, his usual leather jacket slung over one arm. He didn’t even look irritated, just resolute.
Cass groaned, flopping back against his pillow. "Not in the mood."
"You don’t have a choice," Rhys called from the kitchen. Something in Rhys’ voice made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Was he actually trying to find a spoon in there? The sounds of rustling were certainly ominous enough.
Jasper, ever the peacemaker, gently tugged the blanket down from Cass’ face. "Come on. Beach, waves, sunshine. It’ll be good for you."
Cass exhaled slowly, his resolve cracking. His room smelled stale, stuffy, and despite how much he wanted to burrow under the covers forever…
Maybe they were right.
--------------------
By the time they’d dragged Cass out of bed, gotten him dressed (Sebastian had made a whole production of flinging open Cass’s wardrobe and critiquing his fashion choices), and stuffed a few hastily packed bags into the car, the sun was already high in the sky. The unexpected warmth of the bank holiday felt almost mocking, like the universe had conspired to be obnoxiously cheerful while Cass was feeling like shit.
The air was warm and thick with summer, the kind of heat one normally expected later in the year. For a Bank Holiday Monday in May, it was too hot, especially for Scotland.
The group traipsed across the quadrangle, which was already filled with students in various kinds of undress. People were lying on their backs, soaking in the rare sun, licking at ice creams and chasing frisbees across the grass.
Before long, they had reached the car park where Rhys’ beat-up red Vauxhall Corsa was parked. Viggo’s motorbike stood right next to it.
The arguing started almost immediately.
"Shotgun!" Jasper called, making a beeline for the front passenger seat.
"Absolutely not!" Sebastian shot back. "You got shotgun last time."
"That was months ago," Jasper said, already buckling himself in. "And besides, you’re sitting in the back with Cass."
"Why do I have to sit with the sad sack?" Seb whined, nudging Cass, who had been leaning against the car with his arms crossed. Cass swatted at him half-heartedly.
"Because you’re a menace and need supervision," Rhys said flatly, adjusting his glasses as he climbed into the driver’s seat.
"If anyone needs supervision, it’s Viggo," Sebastian muttered, looking pointedly at the motorcycle parked just a few feet away.
Viggo, who had been checking something on his phone, glanced up at the mention of his name.
Sebastian wasted no time. "Okay, hear me out," he began, putting on his most persuasive voice. "It only makes sense that I ride with you. Look at me: I'm built for a motorcycle. The wind in my hair, the thrill of the open road—"
"No." Viggo’s voice was firm, and final.
Sebastian huffed. "You didn’t even let me finish!"
"Because I already know where this is going." Viggo tucked his phone into his pocket, stepping closer. "You, on the back of a motorcycle? Not happening. You’d be wiggling around, trying to grab my arse, or worse— distracting me just to cause chaos."
"I would never—"
"Sebastian." Viggo crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. "Sit your butt in the car, or I’ll be warming it before we even get there."
Sebastian’s mouth opened, then snapped shut. He cast a quick glance at Rhys and Jasper, as if hoping for backup, but neither looked particularly inclined to save him.
Finally, he grumbled, "Fine."
Cass smirked as Sebastian climbed into the backseat beside him, arms folded like a petulant child.
"Not a word," Sebastian muttered, catching Cass’s amused look.
Viggo only looked slightly smug as he swung a leg over his bike, revving the engine to life.
Seb and Jasper had devolved into a heated argument over the playlist, their voices rising over the hum of the car engine.
"We are not listening to your ‘Road Trip Bangers’ playlist again, Seb," Jasper huffed, yanking the phone out of his hands.
"Oh, and you think your ‘Chill Vibes’ playlist is better?" Seb shot back.
"At least mine doesn’t include five different versions of the same Eurodance song."
"It’s a classic!"
Rhys let out a long-suffering sigh, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. "It’s a twenty-minute drive. It does not require musical accompaniment."
"Says the man who listens to legal podcasts for fun," Seb muttered.
Cass, stretched out in the backseat, let their bickering wash over him. For the first time in days, he felt something other than hollowed-out exhaustion. A flicker of amusement, small but present, curled at the edges of his lips as he let his head rest against the window.
Outside, the town blurred past in a picture-perfect postcard of coastal Scotland. Narrow, winding streets wove between old stone buildings, their facades weathered by centuries of sea air. The occasional spire or tower jutted into the skyline, remnants of medieval architecture that gave the town its quiet, scholarly charm.
As they moved further out, the buildings thinned, giving way to rolling green fields that stretched towards the horizon, speckled with fluffy white sheep. The golden gorse bushes lining the roadside flickered in the sunlight, their coconut-sweet scent carried on the breeze that swept in through the cracked window.
And then—just beyond the rise of a hill—the sea.
It appeared all at once, vast and unyielding, the churning expanse of the North Sea stretching endlessly to the horizon. The water was a deep, brooding blue, waves cresting white as they crashed against the rugged coastline. Cliffs jutted out in the distance, their edges softened by creeping tufts of heather and long, windblown grass.
Cass let out a slow breath, his forehead pressing lightly against the cool glass.
There was something about the sea that settled him. Its raw, untamed energy, the way it existed without expectation or demand. It reminded him that the world was bigger than the four walls of his bedroom. That outside of his own aching heart, life carried on.
"You look less miserable already," Rhys remarked, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.
Cass rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.
--------------------
Unlike the beaches closer to town, the group had specifically chosen this one for its typically secluded nature. It had no posh amenities, no bathroom facilities, and no ice cream van handing out Mr. Whippys to long queues of children. Just golden sand stretching for miles, framed by towering dunes and wild tufts of beach grass swaying in the wind. The air smelled of salt and seaweed, and the cries of distant gulls echoed above the steady crash of the waves.
Rhys and Jasper immediately got to work, shaking out the striped picnic blanket and unpacking the snacks and soft drinks they’d carted all this way. Jasper even unearthed a large kite with a long-coiled string tied to its base, holding it up appraisingly. With the wind as strong as it was, they’d have no trouble getting it airborne.
"Suncream on, everyone," Rhys ordered, pulling a bottle from the bag and waving it at them. "I don’t want to be driving home a bunch of burnt lobsters."
Cass settled into the sand, stretching his legs out and letting his toes sink into the warmth. He tipped his face towards the sky, allowing the sun and breeze to wash over him. It felt good to be here, surrounded by the four people who meant the most to him. The weight that had been pressing on his chest for the past few weeks felt lighter out here, softened by the crashing of the waves and the laughter of his friends.
His first year at Aberswitch University was almost at an end. Final exams loomed on the horizon, but for now, they had this last long weekend before things became serious. Soon, they’d be packing up, heading home for the summer. Cass wasn’t even sure if he wanted to go back to England. Maybe he’d get a job in town, stay in their little corner of Scotland a while longer.
"Right, I’m going for a swim," Viggo announced, tugging off his shirt and shaking out his long dark hair. "Who’s coming?"
"Not a chance," Sebastian scoffed, eyeing the churning water. "Looks bloody freezing from here."
Viggo, uncharacteristically playful for the normally gruff and reserved man, turned on his impish red-haired boyfriend with a slow, predatory smirk. Seb, clocking the danger immediately, took a hurried step back.
"Viggo, no. Don’t you dare!"
But it was already too late. Viggo lunged, catching him effortlessly and hauling him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
Seb kicked and flailed, shrieking in protest as Viggo strode purposefully towards the water. "Put me down, you giant bastard! I swear to God, I will—"
With a final act of defiance, he reached down and yanked at the waistband of Viggo’s swim shorts, giving the rest of them a completely unobstructed view of his bare backside. Jasper dissolved into helpless giggles, Rhys clapped a hand over his mouth, and Cass actually had to wipe away tears of laughter as Viggo, entirely unbothered by his sudden state of undress, charged straight into the waves.
A second later, they both vanished beneath the freezing water with a tremendous splash.
By the time they resurfaced and made their way back up the beach, drenched, bedraggled, and covered in sand, Cass was still wheezing from laughter. He wiped at his eyes and grinned wickedly at Viggo.
"Didn’t think we’d be due a full moon this early," he quipped, earning himself a flat, unimpressed glare from the older boy.
Seb, for his part, just cackled and threw himself dramatically onto the picnic blanket, utterly delighted with himself.
--------------------
The afternoon stretched lazily on, the wind tugging at their hair as they lounged on the beach. The snacks had been mostly demolished, Viggo and Sebastian had finally settled after their water-soaked antics, and now the only debate was whether to brave the water again or just let the sun dry them off.
Jasper was fussing with the kite, determined to get it to soar higher, when Cass offhandedly mentioned something about their exams.
"Hard to believe it's only a few weeks away," Cass mused, idly flicking a pebble into the sand.
Jasper barely hid a yawn. "Don’t remind me."
Rhys looked up at him, narrowing his eyes. "You sound tired," he said, far too perceptive for Jasper's liking.
"I'm fine," Jasper said airily, tugging at the kite string. "Just the usual end-of-year stress, you know how it is."
Rhys didn’t look convinced. "How late did you stay up last night?"
Jasper hesitated. "Not that late."
Rhys just raised an eyebrow.
Jasper shifted, looking away, suddenly very focused on the sky. "Maybe… three?"
Rhys sighed, already knowing what was coming next. "And the night before?"
"Um." Jasper rubbed the back of his neck. "About the same?"
"Jasper." Rhys’ tone flattened. "And the night before that?"
Jasper grinned sheepishly, finally turning to look at him. "Would you believe… two?"
Rhys inhaled deeply, like he was actually counting to ten in his head. "That’s three nights in a row. No wonder you look like you’re about to keel over.”
"I do not!" Jasper protested.
Rhys shot him a look. "If I were your Tutor or Top, I’d turn you over my knee for that."
The words were flippant, half-exasperated, half-teasing. But Jasper stilled. His fingers clenched ever so slightly on the kite string. The way he looked at Rhys—wide-eyed, lips parted, something unreadable flickering behind those soft brown eyes, made Rhys pause.
For the first time, it really struck him. Jasper didn’t just tolerate his bossy nature. He responded to it.
Rhys didn’t look away. "C’mon," he said after a beat, standing up and dusting sand off his legs. "Walk with me."
Jasper blinked, then glanced around. The others were still distracted. Seb was buried in Viggo’s lap again, Cass was staring out at the sea, lost in thought. No one was paying them any mind.
Slowly, he nodded.
They strolled side by side along the shoreline, their footprints swallowed by the waves as they walked. The wind whipped Jasper’s curls around his face, the flowers still tucked into his hair rustling softly. Rhys kept his hands in his pockets, waiting.
It wasn’t until they found a washed-up log, far enough down the beach that the others wouldn’t see them, that Jasper finally spoke.
"Would you really?" he asked, kicking absently at the sand.
Rhys turned to him. "Would I really what?"
"Spank me." Jasper met his gaze. "For something silly like that."
Rhys studied him for a moment before answering. "It’s not silly," he said. "Taking care of yourself isn’t silly."
Jasper swallowed.
"And yes," Rhys continued. "I’d spank you. On your bare bottom, hard, until you learned your lesson." His voice was calm, steady, utterly certain. "Because I care.” He paused, hesitating. “Because I love you."
Jasper let out a sharp breath, his cheeks colouring. Then, before Rhys could say anything else, Jasper surged forward, grabbing his cardigan and pulling him down into a kiss.
It was soft and urgent all at once. Months of unspoken tension, flirtation, and unacknowledged feelings finally crashing together. Rhys felt the warmth of Jasper’s lips, the faint taste of salt and sun, and he cupped Jasper’s cheek, deepening the kiss.
When they finally broke apart, Jasper’s eyes were bright, his breath a little uneven.
Rhys smirked, brushing a strand of windblown hair from Jasper’s face. "Still going to spank you, though."
Jasper took a step back, his breath catching slightly. "Now?" he squeaked, suddenly feeling rather nervous.
He’d been spanked before, of course. By his assigned Tutor, on the rare occasion he’d actually warranted it. But even then, it had always felt impersonal, transactional. His Tutor had once admitted, with no small amount of exasperation, that Jasper wasn’t much of a challenge. Jasper, at heart, was a good boy, a submissive who liked to please. He didn’t test limits or push buttons just for the sake of it. He followed the rules.
The way he’d neglected his health, staying up into the early hours of the morning, skipping meals, running himself ragged, had gone unnoticed by his Tutor. But it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Rhys.
Rhys, who always seemed to be watching. Who had chided him in the past, gently but firmly, about taking better care of himself. Who had never, until this moment, crossed the line between concern and action.
Now, Rhys reached for him, fingers curling around his wrist, pulling him between his legs as he sat on the driftwood log. Jasper let himself be guided, his pulse pounding in his ears. Rhys’ touch was firm but gentle, his other hand brushing over Jasper’s hair before pressing a brief kiss to his curls. And then, with a quiet but unmistakable authority, he tipped Jasper forward over his lap.
Jasper exhaled sharply, his fingers digging into the rough wood of the log for balance. The position felt... different. More intimate than before. The cool sea breeze kissed his exposed skin, but it wasn’t enough to keep the heat from rising steadily in his face.
And then Rhys’ fingers found the waistband of his swim trunks.
"Rhys- wait-" Jasper’s voice hitched as Rhys ignored his half-hearted protest, yanking them down in one smooth motion until they bunched around his knees.
Jasper sucked in a sharp breath. The sudden vulnerability of it sent a shiver down his spine. His bare skin prickled, hypersensitive to the cool air, to Rhys’ steady gaze on his exposed backside. Rhys didn’t start right away. He just let Jasper sit in it, his warm hand resting lightly on the small of Jasper’s back.
“Do you remember your safe word, sweetheart?” Rhys asked, his voice low and steady.
Jasper swallowed hard. "I- yeah," he mumbled, shifting slightly, suddenly unsure what to do with his hands.
“I need to hear it.”
Jasper bit his lip, then forced himself to say, “Red means stop, Sir.”
The ‘Sir’ slipped out without thought, but as soon as it was spoken, he realised how right it felt.
Rhys hummed approvingly. “Good boy.”
Then he began.
The first smack landed soundly across the centre of Jasper’s bottom, making him suck in a sharp breath. Rhys wasn’t going easy on him—not brutal, but firm, methodical, each swat deliberate and unhurried.
Jasper clenched his fingers around Rhys’ legs, trying to stay still, but as the spanking continued, the sting grew harder to endure. Rhys’ palm covered every inch of his bottom, ensuring nothing was left untouched. His pace was steady, measured, and undeniably effective.
“Rhys- ow- okay, okay, I get it!” Jasper gasped, twisting slightly, but Rhys’ grip held firm.
“Oh? And what exactly do you get?” Rhys asked, pausing just long enough for Jasper to catch his breath.
Jasper hesitated, his mind scrambling.
“You haven’t learned yet,” Rhys answered for him, and resumed.
Jasper yelped, his legs kicking slightly as Rhys shifted his aim lower, swatting the sensitive underside of his bottom, making him keen softly in protest. He knew better than to beg Rhys to stop, not when he’d just confirmed he understood the rules of this game.
"You cannot function properly if you don’t take care of yourself," Rhys said, punctuating his words with sharp, precise smacks. "Staying up until three in the morning, skipping meals, pushing yourself too hard- tell me, sweetheart, is that what a good boy does?"
Jasper whined, burying his face in his arms. "N-no," he admitted miserably.
"No, it isn’t." Rhys rubbed slow, soothing circles over Jasper’s lower back, his voice gentler now. "You’re brilliant, Jasper. But you don’t have to break yourself to prove that. Not to me, not to anyone."
Jasper let out a shuddering breath, his body sagging slightly over Rhys' lap. The words settled somewhere deep inside him, somewhere tender and bruised in a way that had nothing to do with his backside.
But Rhys wasn’t done yet.
The next spank landed lower, right at the crease of his bottom, sharp enough to make Jasper gasp. The fire in his skin was building now, the steady rhythm unrelenting. Rhys focused on the same spots, layering sting upon sting, until Jasper’s hips were jerking involuntarily against his lap.
“Rhys,” Jasper choked out, twisting, desperate for some reprieve.
Rhys’ arm tightened around his waist, holding him fast. “We’re not done yet, sweetheart.”
Jasper made a small, pleading sound in his throat. The wind, the sound of the crashing waves, the distant voices of their friends—it all felt miles away now. There was only the sharp crack of Rhys’ palm, the growing burn, the ache in his throat as he fought against the lump forming there.
And then Rhys tilted his knee up slightly, adjusting Jasper’s position just enough to expose the tender skin of his sit spots. Jasper yelped, kicking out as the smacks landed there, hotter and sharper than before.
Tears welled in his eyes.
Rhys was punishing him, properly punishing him, for something no one else had ever cared enough to correct. His Tutor had turned a blind eye. Everyone else had simply accepted it as part of who he was. But Rhys… Rhys saw him.
Jasper’s breath hitched. His shoulders curled inward, his hands gripping tighter around Rhys’ leg.
“Rhys—”
Another hard spank landed across both cheeks, and suddenly, Jasper broke.
A choked sob escaped him, and then another, his body shuddering as the tears finally spilled over. He hated crying. Especially in front of others- but this... this was different. This wasn’t humiliation or shame. It was release.
Rhys’ hand slowed, his strokes turning into soft, soothing rubs.
“There we go,” Rhys murmured, his voice warm and gentle. “That’s it, sweetheart. Let it out.”
Jasper gasped for air, his sobs coming in quiet, uneven waves. Rhys didn’t rush him. He simply held him there, rubbing his back, pressing the occasional kiss to his damp curls.
When Jasper finally went limp over his lap, exhausted and spent, Rhys carefully righted him, pulling him up and into his arms. Jasper curled into him instinctively, pressing his tear-streaked face against Rhys’ shoulder.
Rhys held him close, one hand cupping the back of his neck, the other rubbing slow circles over his back.
Rhys exhaled, his grip easing just slightly. "And I meant what I said," he murmured, dragging his hand lightly over Jasper’s heated skin. "If you do this again, you won’t just be getting my hand."
Jasper tensed.
"...the paddle?" he asked warily.
Rhys’ smirk was audible. "The paddle."
Jasper groaned. "You're mean."
"You love it," Rhys murmured, tilting Jasper’s chin up so their eyes met.
Jasper’s stomach flipped. His bottom still throbbed, his legs felt shaky, but there was nowhere else he’d rather be.
"...Yeah," he admitted softly. "I do."
Rhys smiled, leaning in for another kiss.
This time, Jasper kissed him back like he never wanted to stop.
--------------------
Hand in hand, Jasper and Rhys made their way back along the beach, the salty breeze tousling Jasper’s curls as he leaned just a little into Rhys’ side. His face was still a little flushed, his eyes slightly glassy, but his smile was soft… content. Rhys gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze as they approached the others.
Viggo looked up first, a slow, knowing smile tugging at his lips. His dark eyes flickered between them, taking in the way Jasper all but melted into Rhys' side.
Sebastian, never one to let a moment pass unremarked upon, grinned wickedly. “Judging by the shade of those thighs, I’d say someone just got his arse well and truly tanned.”
Jasper’s face flamed. “Seb—”
Viggo didn’t even look up from the pile of sand he was absently sifting through his fingers. “If you’re interested in a matching shade, love, I can arrange that.”
Seb immediately held up his hands in surrender. “Hang on, hang on- bank holiday! That means I should get a pass, surely?”
Cass, with a perfectly straight face, countered, “Spank holiday, actually.”
Jasper groaned, but his giggle betrayed him, and he quickly ducked his head against Rhys' shoulder to hide his smile.
Sebastian shot Cass a deeply offended look. “Et tu, Cassian?”
Cass just smirked and stretched lazily, his own expression smug as he cast a satisfied look at Jasper and Rhys. "Finally."
Jasper blinked at him, still a little hazy from everything that had just transpired. "Finally what?"
Cass rolled his eyes. "Finally this happened. Took you both long enough."
Jasper sputtered. “We—what—”
Rhys only shrugged, unbothered. “Yeah, well. Had to make sure he was properly taken in hand first.”
Seb let out a delighted cackle, and Jasper swatted at Rhys’ arm, though the warmth in his face had very little to do with embarrassment now.
With the teasing out of the way, they fell back into easy laughter, stretching out on the blanket and finishing off what was left of their snacks.
Jasper, predictably, ended up curled against Rhys’ side, lazily picking at the sandy edge of the blanket. Seb attempted to construct an elaborate sandcastle, but after Rhys and Cass kept knocking it down, he switched tactics and enlisted everyone in the far more important task of burying Viggo up to his chest in sand.
When they had finally exhausted their creative endeavours (and after Viggo easily freed himself and tackled Sebastian into the surf in retribution), they all stood at the shoreline, staring out at the crashing waves. The sun was beginning its slow descent, casting long golden streaks across the water.
“One last swim?” Cass suggested, already shrugging off his hoodie.
Seb shivered dramatically. “I just got dry—”
But it was too late. Viggo swept him up effortlessly, and Jasper had barely turned to protest before Rhys tossed him over his shoulder, marching determinedly into the icy water.
Screeches and laughter filled the air as, one by one, they all hurled themselves into the frigid waves, salt sticking to their skin, the wind whipping around them. Cass was breathless from laughing, dunking his head under once more before staggering back toward the sand.
Eventually, as the sky deepened into rich hues of pink and amber, they knew it was time to go. With heavy, waterlogged limbs, they made their way back to the car, shaking sand from their clothes and hair.
By the time they pulled onto the main road, Jasper and Seb were fast asleep in the backseat, heads tilted toward each other. The absence of bickering left an almost eerie silence, one Rhys was only too happy to fill with his long-awaited legal podcast.
Cass didn’t even mind.
Instead, he just stared out at the dimming horizon, his heart light.
For all the aches, all the bruises, all the chaos, he wouldn’t trade this for the world.
He was lucky.
And he knew it.