As always, anything would be accepted from Paul.  Anything at all.  This, this was nothing, was barely even a minor discomfort, but the fact that it came from Paul... Oh, that made it much, much more powerful.<br/><i><br/>
Count them</i>.  Gabriel did just that, listing off the strikes as they happened: sometimes he had time to breathe, sometimes they were too fast and he had to quickly catch up, sometimes they seemed to stop, distressing until they finally continued.  It left Gabriel breathless, trembling under the blows, his arousal growing until he was fully hard.  The heat, the burning lines, the fierce sting flaring through him; all of it was perfect, a glorious introduction to the next bit of pain.<br/><br/>Paul finally stopped to admire the result.  Gabriel couldn't see, but he could feel each mark, where they hand landed, and could imagine the image: red, raised swells, rosy irritation spreading from the lashes, decorating his pale, marbleized form.  He hoped Paul liked what he saw, would continue to decorate him as he saw fit...<br/><br/>"Thank you..." Gabriel's voice was soft, sweet as ever, and he meant every word.  This was just the beginning; he would be singing Paul's praise by the end, an angelic chorus chiming out his divinity.  "Thank you, sir..."  Sir, not Paul.  He did not use the man's name here, did not have the right.<br/><br/>His spine curved, arched as his hips pressed towards the bed, towards Paul, towards anything just to touch and be touched.  "More, sir... please..."  He might be out of line, but Gabriel was feeling strange tonight...  He couldn't determine why.  He could just wish for Paul to indulge him, however unlikely, and sate both their desires.