Royally Screwed

response.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Angelo was completely lost.
“You’ve ruined me, you arsehole! Now fix it.”
“I don’t—”
“You do,” Yuri spat out. With deliberation, he turned his back on Angelo, pulled down his jeans, and lay face down on Angelo’s bed, his pert arse not even close to covered by a small scrap of blue fabric. Yuri was wearing a thong. A fucking thong. “So fix it. Fix me. This is your fault. Now fix it!” Even somewhat muffled by the covers on Angelo’s unmade bed, Yuri’s voice was sure and strident. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know how.”
Angelo stood and walked over to Yuri. His first thought was to pull his jeans up and throw him out. Instead, he touched the thong, making Yuri jump.
“Just do it already,” Yuri growled. “But lock the door first.”
Angelo felt that heady, drunken sensation take over even though he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol in weeks. Angelo locked the door then turned back to Yuri. “Rebecca doesn’t want to have anything to do with me now,” he said.
“Herpes for the win,” Yuri muttered.
“No. She just decided that me having a betrothed was a dealbreaker. So thanks for reminding her, you little prat.”
“Come on. Show me how pissed off you are.”
“Yuri, this is wrong. So wrong. We shouldn’t—”
“What the fuck do I have to say, Angelo? What’s gonna work? Because we have a philosophy essay due in three days and I haven’t even started it because I just can’t. And I know you hate me so just do this. Hurt me and make it better.”
There were a million things wrong with that. It would take the rest of the day and part of the night for Angelo to list them all. But all Angelo could think of was the feeling of Yuri’s hot skin under his hand and the noises he’d made the last time. He wanted to know if Yuri would make those noises again.
Angelo lifted his hand and brought it down as hard as he could.
Yuri squeaked, dug his fingers into the messy bedclothes, then relaxed with a sigh. “Thank you,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Please. More.”
So Angelo gave him more. He brought his hand down onto Yuri’s flesh again and again and again until his skin stung like needles. Finally, Yuri broke, the tension inside him snapping and bringing forth a storm of sobs.
Shit. Shit. What do I do now? Angelo had no clue and there wasn’t really time to look it up on the internet or ask anyone. The only thing he could think to do was pull the unresisting Yuri fully onto the bed, lay beside him, and hold him. Angelo had done this before, but so long ago the memory felt nearly unreal. Yuri had been sad about something, Angelo couldn’t recall what, and he’d held onto the boy while he sobbed and then fell into a deep sleep. How old had they been? Seven? Eight? Angelo wasn’t sure, but Yuri fitted into his arms just as easily as he had long ago.
“It’s okay. You’re okay,” Angelo soothed, just like he hadn’t caused the crying in the first place. He hated Yuri. Why was he comforting him? But really, deep down, he didn’t hate Yuri. It was years of resentment and jealousy and feelings of inadequacy rolled around with huge doses of irritation, but it wasn’t hate. Not really. Hating Yuri would be a little like hating his left hand.
“Thank you,” Yuri whispered. “I’m sorry, but I needed that. I needed it so badly. And I don’t know why, Angel, but you made it better. Thank you.”
Yuri closed his angelic eyes, now red and puffy from crying, and fell into an exhausted sleep. Angelo held onto his rival and nemesis and brother and betrothed and knew that nothing would be the same ever again. Angelo flexed his hand. It hurt, but in the best possible way.
I am completely fucked. Goddamned bastard. Because Angelo knew that if Yuri came to him like this again, Angelo would give in to Yuri’s strange and inexplicable desire for being spanked. He would give Yuri the pain he seemed to crave if he ever came and asked for it.
Angelo rested his chin on the crown of Yuri’s head. Angelo was fucked because when he’d “broken” Yuri, he’d apparently done the same to himself. Even with shooting pains in his hand and wrist, Angelo already longed to do it again.
I should buy a paddle, he thought, and knew that whatever battle he’d been fighting was over and he had decidedly lost.

4
Angelo Prioritizes
Over the next two years, Angelo dated his way through most of the girls in their school, but none of them lasted very long. After a while, none of the girls at Meadow Chase wanted anything to do with Angelo.
It wasn’t something Angelo thought about often, if at all. There were other things to keep his mind occupied. Namely, Yuri. The twerp kept asking for punishment, and Angelo was happy to provide it. After being spanked, he’d go for days or weeks without sniping at Angelo, but more than that, Yuri let go. He stopped striving for utter perfection and relaxed. Angelo almost liked the little turd then, with all his brittle, sharp edges smoothed down.
It never lasted, though. In a month, or a few weeks, or sometimes even days, Yuri would be impossible and Angelo would need to discipline him. The problem was that none of the girls Angelo dated seemed to understand the strange relationship he had with his so-called betrothed.
“I don't get it,” Charity said, pouting after Angelo had had to cancel their date when a trembling Yuri showed up and demanded Angelo's attention. She had recently been placed at Meadow Chase by her father, who was employed by one of the Saudi princes to do something involving oil drilling. Therefore she hadn’t been scared off by Yuri. Yet. “Why is he more important than me?” Her voice went into a high-pitched