Edel continued to wring and pinch the dark pant material in his hands, navy blues firmly shutting and tears beginning to well up beneath them, feeling antsier and antsier the more the horrible smacks went on. "No, no," the sandy blonde reasoned, shaking his head, and fully trembling with endurance. "You are treating my backside like some sort of tribal drum, thus, you are beating me, and it's absolutely awful. I'm not music to be played." A crystal tear manging to slip past his eye, and he rubbed his snotting nose, burying his face into the thigh entirely. "And I'm no child either—!"
He continued to stifle his obviously distraught demeanour by hiding away in the fabric, wanting the whole matter to be over and done with already, and, as an instinctive reflex to the pain, banging his toes into the side of the stool.
Once finally let down, Edel scrambled to compose himself, his mind fuzzy and still frozen with the shock of what just happened, and mutely stood there in front of the taller male, smearing his ski-sloped and runny nose into the crook of his elbow, and hiccupping. Rubbing his backside, he skittishly glanced away, hopping several steps back. "F-fine, yes, I'm understanding," the noble informed, a little shaken up from the entirely foreign experience. He stumbled back a little more. "Though, I'm not sure whether you understand that I am several months past seventeen, well almost a grown man."
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