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THANK YOU yaoilover665 for submitting names (I used Adam) as I kindly asked, UNLIKE MY OTHER FAAAANS! PromiseWolf as well, I considered using Spencer but Oliver just goes well with blonds... yaesss...

ENJOY HAVING THE CHAPTER DEDICATED TO YOU, YAOILOVER665 AND NOT MY OTHER FANS! 

hehenohardfeelings

     The training had continued despite that accident, and it proved just effective throughout the two years that followed, Matthews currently at the age of 14 and his two friends attempting to catch up at 12.

     Matt was in a sitting room, the intersection of two of the dorms hallways. The place had a table, two armchairs, a small couch and a bookshelf. He sat at the table with some of his older friends, Oliver with the age of 18, Adam 21 and Elena 24.

     The orphanage kept people in until the age of 30 if considered required, making sure they absorbed all the education and knowledge necessary before releasing them to work on specific domains, their houses already assured by the government.

     Matthews found himself fond of wiser companion, admiring the game of their words, mimicking the formal posture of their matured bodies and sneaking sniffs of the smoke that left the slim cigarettes between their fingers. They were currently playing a card game called Macau, and Matthews was down to three cards.

     He placed a two of spades down, offering a cocky grin Elena's way, who now had to take two cards from the pack.

     "Why Matthews, you are rather offensive this hand." she noted with an arch of her back and a grin. The younger boy chuckled, brushing his bangs out of his eyes to read her intention.

     To his surprise, the girl didn't lean to take from the deck of cards but instead reached long, manicured fingers in hers, placing another two on top of his and turning her head towards Oliver, who was to her right.

     "Oliver beloved, 4 cards from the deck."

     The man's blue eyes widened, head lowering in defeat, his blond strands of hair leaking like silk with the motion, and he took a drag from his cigarette, looking at Matthews with a handsome, revengeful glare. He let the smoke out as if to stretch his defeat on, facing Matt's smirk with a contemplating frown.

     Faster than the youngest managed to process, the blond slammed a card down and Adam followed a second later, which made it Matt's turn. He looked at the cards dumbfounded, seeing four two's grinning back at him.

     "Matthews mate." Oliver teased with a toothy grin, his dimples sharp and dark. "Can your arms sustain all eight cards to follow?"

     Matt's shoulders slumped down as he eyed the deck grimly. "This had been plotted! You conspired against me!" he accused, Oliver having obviously known of Adam's cards.

     The blond mocked a deeply offended expression, strong jaw opening as he ran a hand through his strands, their length reaching his ribs. Before he got to tease him some more, heavy steps could be heard from down the hallway, and all four heads turned towards the archway curiously.

     Matthews grinned widely upon seeing Veronique run like his life depended on it, which it probably did, and as soon as he escaped the hallway and reached the sitting room, he stopped abruptly, sliding with the carpet underneath his feet, and then he ran in place until the carpet flew from beneath him, point at which his feet slapped the parquet and managed to get him towards the big bookshelf next to the table.

     He grasped at the shelves and dropped his umbrella, climbing the bookshelf all the way to its large top and curling there.

     Matthews looked back towards the hallway and saw Dimitri limping his way there with a glare and gritted teeth, two companions on his way- one of them too chubby to run faster and the other helping Dimitri.

     "You son of a dog!" the boy exclaimed, going straight for the bookshelf and picking the umbrella, trying to reach the boy at the top and managing to poke at Veronique's knee just before it retreated.

     Oliver tugged Dimitri by his elbow and turned him around, steadying him next to the armchair he was sitting on. He then raised his arm, covered by a grey striped arm warmer, and gripped at his shoulder.

     The bully immediately straightened up, looking at him with respect and admiration, the way any young would look at an older- despite the difference of only 2 years between their age. Still, that difference made Oliver an official adult and Dimitri not.

     "Boy, leave my mate be, yeah? You prove not a thing by picking on the smaller, much less by getting beaten up while doing so."

     Dimitri gritted his teeth again, looking down in shame and nodding submissively. Oliver then patted his stomach as a sign of dismiss and he limped away with a last glare towards Veronique, his comrades following him obediently.

     As they walked down the hallway perpendicular to the one they came from, Veronique slowly climbed down the bookshelf. Oliver stood up from his seat, having deduced the kid's stockings would do no well on top of the polished wood of the shelves, and wrapped his arms around the boy's body just as he slipped.

     Then he made his way back to his armchair, Veronique on his lap and panting from the run, and leaned to pick his cards.

     "They won't give up, will they." Adam murmured, smashing the butt of his cigar on the ashtray.

     Veronique sighed, slumping down Oliver's torso and looking at the man's cards curiously. "They only want to beat me up because I beat them up when they attempt beating me up for having beaten them up. Which I also did because-"

     "Yes, blackberry, we understand your situation." Elena laughed.

     Matthews leaned to pick his eight cards with a sigh, placed one of them down, and Oliver looked at his thoughtfully, tapping his chin on top of Veronique's head repeatedly as he plotted. The boy in his lap pointed towards one and he nodded, offering it to Veronique who leaned to place it on the table, seeing as the blond didn't have much mobility in his position.

     "So where is the third musketeer at?" the blond asked, eyes moving on Matthews curiously.

     "William is not feeling well, he's in his room." Matt answered as Adam placed a card on top of Oliver's.

     The blond's eyebrows rose at that and he ran a hand through his strands to get a good view on Matthews as he spoke. "Is it grave?"

     "No, he just sneezes a lot and feels too tired to move." Veronique replied in Matt's place, clumsily braiding Oliver's strands. "He's like a sneezing turtle."

     "It's no wonder he caught a cold, that with his habit of sucking on his thumb." Adam commented, rubbing his chin. "Unhygienic."

     Elena placed a card on the table and joined in. "Speaking of which, you boys must lecture him on that. He'll reach to be a fully grown man with that finger still in his mouth."

     "Nah, I think it's adorable." Oliver protested, expecting Matthew's turn. "Besides, it might turn into an useful skill laterrrrr." he drawled out with a teasing grin, at which Adam and Elena rolled their eyes.

     The black-haired boy slammed his card down, shaking his head disbelievingly, and looked up to see Veronique intently watching the pattern of the age-stained paper he placed down rather than listening to the conversation. The blond was about to make his turn but the boy in his lap interrupted, leaning on the table and taking Matt's card to look at the drawing on it.

     "This." he simply spoke, placing the paper back on the table and pointing at the small rainbow on which Joker stood. Its colours were faded and pale, matching every other thing in that airship.

     "That's a rainbow, blackberry." Elena stated with a raise of her thick but nicely shaped eyebrow.

     "I know." Veronique replied distantly, turquoise eyes roaming on the colours before him.

     Suddenly, he jumped from Oliver's lap to the floor and gripped Matthews's hand, tugging him up from the armchair.

     "Come."

 

     Matthews had been pacing about the Chemistry Lab's stockroom for a while now as Veronique worked away at his table, and at one point he told his friend he'd go and fetch an instrument so that he'd have something to do. Veronique only nodded, not looking up from his work.

     As Matt got to his room, he raised the sheets on his bed and knelt down, looking underneath it at the guitar and violin he kept there for him and Veronique. Mr. Quin had managed to convince Bogeyman to not look into the missing of the instruments, the good principal well fond of the two friends' passion for music.

     Squinting, Matthews decided on the violin, not wanting to loose his hand of it since Veronique was slowly but surely catching up to his skills. He placed the instrument on the bed and the bow next to it, then looked up at the bed above his.

     He went to the ladder and silently climbed until his head was at the same level with William's, and slightly smiled.

     The boy's cheek was pressed against the pillow, his dark honey hair ruffled all around his unhealthily pale face. His pale brown eyes were slightly open and his wet lips were around his thumb as he looked at Matthews.

     "Hey, buddy... How are you feeling?" Matt asked, placing a hand on his forehead despite not knowing how to check a temperature. The skin was hot against his, but it could be his hands that were cold.

     William murmured something around his finger and sniffled, closing his eyes and lowering his head between his shoulders, which Matthews took as his cue to pull the blanket further up his body. "Did the nurse come to treat you as me and Veronique asked her?"

     His friend hummed, eyes closing and breath slowing down.

     Matthews's heart grew at that and he softly laughed, patting his pillow around to make it comfortable and then lowering down the ladder. "Get well."

--------

     Upon returning to the stockroom, Veronique acted as if he didn't even leave, just minding his business while Matthews waited patiently. By the time his friend minded his presence, he had played every melody he had known so far, and even a few improvisations.

     "Yes!"

     The sudden voice made the taller boy jump in his place and poke his own head with the bow. He set the violin down, next to his chair, and rubber at the injury as Veronique put utensils away eagerly.

     Then, the boy jumped down from the chair and revealed 6 lab tubes, all placed in a wooden holder. Matthews gasped as he looked at the tubes from left to right, and approached them to see the gooey substances inside, of colours going from red to violet.

     "Couldn't get the indigo, but look at those!" Veronique excitedly shrieked, jumping in his bones with glee.

     Matthews had been in the orphanage for 6 years, which had been more than enough to adjust his eyes to the constant pale, dull colours of the airship- not that the country they floated above was any more colourful, given England's conditions.

     And so, he could only be perplexed by the sight his eyes met, and as if in a trance he dipped a finger in the bright orange, instantly deciding it to be his favourite. The substance had just the consistency of the paint he could vaguely remember having used when he was little.

     "This is so beautiful Veronique! You're amazing!" he exclaimed, not wanting to tear his eyes from the lovely sight and back to the dullness around them. "If only the airship benefited of such colours..."

     And he trailed off with a wince, for he knew it had been a horrid idea to voice that. Surely enough, when he looked up, Veronique was looking at him with the same look he did a few hours ago, when urging him to leave the table.

     He had an idea...

 

     Matthews's long legs struggled to catch up to his friend's, but despite his task, he couldn't help but look back in awe.

     The walls of the hall were smudged in uncountable small hand prints of every colour, long wavy lines and occasionally splashes. Everything around was for once variegated, the way Matt could remember Oliver describing the world he would see when smoking plants.

     Orphans announced the happening to their friends, who in turn did the same, and the hallway was now crowded with children, teenagers and even adults, poking at the paint and smiling in awe- William included.

     Upon reaching the end of the hallway, Veronique went down the stairs, palm slapping the railing and the wood he stepped on, and then he jumped the last step, turning left and going for the hallway but he suddenly stopped in his tracks, his face paling drastically underneath the smudges of colours on it.

     Matthews stumbled next to him and gasped, while Veronique hid the tube holder behind his back, as if that was going to help. Matt had yet to be stained, but he didn't give it much thought before shoving his fingers in all of the tubs, rubbing the colours on his palms before holding them behind his back, just as Bogeyman stopped before them.

     Veronique's knees were shaking, but Matthews wasn't any better as he stared at the man's piercing glare.

     "What is the meaning of this..." he demanded, voice echoing in the now dead quiet halls, eyes roaming up and down Veronique's messy appearance. On the trail of his gaze, the boy's skin shuddered.

     The two youngsters didn't respond, their throats swollen and their hearts in spasms as they watched the man approach the stairs with his hands behind his back, chest arched in superiority.

     Bogeyman swiftly turned, jaw clenching and shoulders tensing. That was the only proof of his fury since his expression was hidden by his shoulder length dark hair, a single blonde strand.

     He slowly stepped up the stairs, accurately avoiding the smudges on the wood, and Veronique whimpered when he reached the top with a stomp. Not that he didn't expect the principal to eventually see the mess, it's just- he hoped he might like it? Hell, he simply gave no thought to his actions, the way he never did.

     The two friends could hear door shutting after door in the hallway and hurried steps towards the stairs leading to upper floors, moment in which they knew his expression was no calmer than his posture.

     With a slow turn, the principal stepped down the stairs as slow as he escalated, only this time heavier and determined.

     "Expose your hands." he demanded upon walking in front of them, and the two kids obeyed.

     He glanced at every one of the empty tubes, in which smudges of mixed paint was left, and then looked at Matthews's palms.

     Veronique sneaked a glance and gasped with his mouth closed, eyes widening and jaw clenching. Matt kept his eyes to the principal's striped tie, feeling his hands shake. No one had quite as much influence on him as the man did.

     The shorter boy closed his eyes, silently praying not to hear the words. He hated that anticipating moment, seconds stretching on forever only to reach that moment bound to happen. He whined helplessly as he felt Bogeyman take in a breath, and frantically poked at his brain for a way to stop the words from flowing.

     "In my office."

 

     Matthews's hands gripped the edge of the dark desk tightly, smudging colour on it, and his nails scratching at the surface as in time with his hissing. He pressed his nose against the cold polished wood, his black hair, thankfully enough, hiding his teary expression, flushed in pain.

     He was using the belt.

     It would be only natural at the graveness of their- well, Veronique's act. Matt cussed at himself for taking that last moment decision of getting himself in trouble, but was set on going through with it. He had known the punishment would hurt to the core of his bones, which was why he decided on supporting Veronique through it in the first place.

     His bottom was of such a fiery hot that it felt achingly cold, each slap of the leather unavoidable, his hands not daring to get in the way. Despite all that, he struggled not to sob, which must have been the reason the blows got only heavier.

     It was for Veronique's sake, though. He didn't wish his friend to know how horrid it ached since himself was older and stronger, and if he were to cry based on the stinging, Veronique's paranoia would make it seem that more hurtful for him.

     As the last blow kissed his bottom, he slumped down and panted, sniffling instead of breathing and coughing instead of exhaling.

     He had been spanked before, yes, but rarely by belt, and rarely that many blows. The feeling would let him appreciate the man's use of palm in the future as he would compare it to the current pain.

     Bogeyman sighed, running a thumb and pointer along his eyebrows, and unbuttoned his vest, loosening his tie as he let the clothing fall on a couch. Reaching in a cabinet, he poured two fingers of brandy in a glass.

     He made his way back to the window, where he stood and sipped as he watched the clouds outside, a few of them parting to allow a bit of view on the town they were flying above. After finishing the brandy, he placed the empty glass on the windowsill and sighed, rubbing his face while he went to pick the belt from where he let it on the desk, next to Matthews.

     He then situated himself behind Veronique, placing a hand on his lower back and exhaling.

     "You know I hate using tools as much as you hate me using them." he spoke with a frown, nostrils rising in inconvenience.

     "Now, pup. I am afraid to let you know that, whereas Matthews received ten of those blows, you have been the one to have made the paint. Wasted the lab's substances and broke my demand to focus on productive chemistry."

     Veronique looked at Matthews with wide, frightened eyes ready to pour, and Matt slid a hand on the desk to grip his friend's in reassurance. He rarely saw expressions other than cocky, focused, angry or goofy on Veronique. Seeing him frightened and helpless like that was certainly unnerving.

     "Let's make those twenty."

     And just like that, it began.

     And just like that, Matthews experienced his first erection.

     As he watched with widen eyes the boy, his flushed cheek pressed against the hard surface, his turquoise eyes locked wetly on Matt's, his right knee bending impulsively with each blow, legs hugged by the striped stockings, the breath of his sobs tickling at the staring boy's nose, his fingers desperately gripping Matthews's... That was what caused the 14 years old boy his first erection.

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     In the heat of the moment he didn't notice, of course, the stinging ache in his bottom distracting any other sense of his body. Only later, as they stood in the bathroom, did he notice the inconvenience in his shorts.

     As he knelt behind Veronique, who was bending over the bathtub, he applied the creme he had found in the cabinet onto his fiery hot bottom. The bathrooms of the airship had this balm specially for that reason, the nurses had that much decency, since the principal's ways were no secret.

     Veronique's tears formed a small pool in the tub as he silently cried, and he sniffled a couple of times until he found his voice. "You shouldn't hav- gott-n yourself in trouble." he said, peeking from above his shoulder at the boy behind him.

     Matthews offered a reassuring smile, which cracked the dry layer of tears on his own skin. "I got your back." he punned, patting his left butt cheek, at which Veronique sobbed a laughter and sat up on his knees, carefully sliding his briefs up and turning around.

     "You are a good friend, Mattie." he sniffled, wrapping his arms around his Matt's neck and hugging him, black hair tickling at the taller boy's jaw and neck.

     As he hugged him back, Matthews decided the whipping might had been worth it after all.

     "I am a best friend." he corrected, ruffling his hair affectionately. "Now, go and check on William, he must be worried for us."

     Veronique nodded, gripping the sink to help himself up, and then slowly walked to the door as if on needles, trying to shift the material on his butt as little as possible.

     Matthews then, also, used the creme he treated his friend with, only it wasn't his bottom he rubbed.

Dare not judge me! Look- Matthews is 14, I am 15, it's totally legal and not pedo-ish! As for Veronique's squirming- I- just- just shush it! Agh, I feel so dirty D:

I have this author alter-ego that just does not care. She just types ahead soullessly, letting me witness it all with cringes and winces and shudders. She's sick and twisted- that short story 'Venn and his beating heart'? Yeah. She's that fucked up.

On another note. Wasn't the SneezingTurtle reference something? XD Made myself giggle with that :'D

...

I might not be as sane as I grew to believe I am.

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