House of Crimson

**Chapter 1**

WARNING: CONTAINS SPANKING!

~~~

The rain fell in a soft, unrelenting patter, soaking the cracked cobblestones and pooling in the divots of the uneven street. The air smelled of wet stone and iron, tinged with the faint rot of garbage that always lingered no matter how many buckets of water were thrown from windows to wash it away. Inside the dilapidated townhouse, the walls sagged inward, as if exhausted by the weight of years. Black mold crept along the corners like forgotten bruises, and the wood underfoot groaned with each step. The dim afternoon light that filtered through the warped windowpanes felt cold, as if it had given up on the idea of warmth altogether.

Sehun stood in the cramped kitchen, scowling at the chipped basin of murky water in front of him. The soapy film on the surface shimmered, reflecting the darkened ceiling above him. A stubborn stain on the pot he was scrubbing refused to give way, no matter how hard he worked his hands. He could feel his brothers' eyes on him—judging, expecting, always watching. His fingers ached, but he knew better than to stop. Not until the job was done.

"Are you going to scrub that thing to dust, or are you just pretending to work?" Baekhyun's teasing voice floated in from the doorway.

Sehun bristled, flicking water in Baekhyun's direction without looking up. "Why don't you help if you're so concerned?"

"Me? Help?" Baekhyun laughed. "That's your job, baby brother. I've done enough."

Sehun shot him a look, but Baekhyun only smirked before ducking out of the room.

A drop of water slipped down the back of Sehun's neck, cold and unwelcome, making him shiver. He could hear the low murmur of conversation from the other room—Suho and Kris. Always discussing, always deciding, as if they held the world between their hands and had to be careful not to drop it. He scrubbed harder, his nails scraping against the rusted metal of the pot. His muscles burned—not just because of the task, but because of everything. The house. The town. His brothers. The endless cycle of boring work that stretched ahead of him like a road he would never escape.

~~~

He was still scrubbing when Kris entered. Kris didn't need to raise his voice to command attention.

"You're not done?" Kris asked, glancing from Sehun to the sink with an unreadable look.

"Almost," Sehun muttered, though it was a lie, and they both knew it.

Kris sighed. It was the kind of sigh that was full disappointment—not anger, but something worse. "I told you not to drag your feet, Sehun."

"I'm not dragging my feet," Sehun snapped, the frustration bubbling out before he could stop it. "Maybe if someone else helped for once—"

The words were out before he had the sense to swallow them back down. The silence that followed was thick, like the moment before a candle's flame snuffs out.

Kris's jaw tightened, but he didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. "Enough."

Sehun's heart sank.

"Come here." Kris's voice was calm, almost gentle, but it still left no room for arguments.

Sehun stood frozen, the pot slipping from his soapy hands and landing with a dull clatter in the sink. His pulse quickened, shame curling hot in his stomach.

"Kris, I didn't mean—"

"You know the rules," Kris interrupted quietly. "You don't talk back, and you don't complain about the work we all do to keep this family going."

Sehun clenched his fists in frustration, but he knew better. Kris had never raised a hand out of anger. And while Sehun hated the spanking that was coming, a part of him knew it was inevitable, just like the rain that never seemed to stop falling over the streets of Aurelis. Kris didn't speak again, just pulled out one of the rickety wooden chairs by the table, the legs scraping loudly against the warped floor. He sat down, spreading his knees slightly, and patted his thigh in a way that made Sehun's face burn. He hesitated, casting a glance toward the doorway, half-expecting one of his other brothers to peek in.

"Now, Sehun," Kris said, his voice like stone.

Sehun's breath hitched in his chest. His feet stayed planted, but his heart beat hard against his ribs. He wanted to protest, to argue that he was too old for this, but the look in Kris's eyes—calm, final—silenced the words before they could form. 

With a flush of shame heating his neck, Sehun shuffled closer. Kris didn't need to drag him forward or speak harshly; his demeanor was enough to guide Sehun into place. Kris steadied him as he helped him over his lap, draping Sehun across his thighs like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Let's get this done," Kris murmured, more to himself than to Sehun.

Sehun buried his face in his folded arms as Kris's fingers worked at the waistband of his thin pants. The cool, damp air of the room kissed his skin as the fabric slipped down, baring him completely. Sehun squeezed his eyes shut, biting back a whimper of humiliation. He felt exposed, small—just a boy under his brother's strict care.

The first swat landed with a sharp, deliberate crack. Sehun flinched, his body jerking slightly, but Kris's hand stayed steady on his back, holding him firm. Another swat followed, then another. The sound echoed through the cramped kitchen, each smack sharper than the last. Kris wasn't cruel, but he was thorough. Sehun could feel the sting spreading like fire, radiating across his skin. The pain was a lot, but it wasn't unbearable—it was the shame, the helplessness, that brought tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

Kris's hand continued to fall, until Sehun's bravado cracked. A small, choked sob escaped his throat, and once it did, the rest followed in a flood. His shoulders trembled as quiet, frustrated tears slipped free, soaking into his arms.

After what felt like an eternity, the spanking stopped. The silence that followed was broken only by Sehun's ragged breathing and the hum of the rain outside. Without a word, Kris eased Sehun upright, helping him off his lap with care. Kris gave him a look—not unkind, but serious. 

"I know you're tired," Kris said softly. "We all are. But we stick together, Sehun. Always."

Sehun bit the inside of his cheek, nodding once. The words didn't make him feel better, but they settled the storm inside him—just a little.

Kris left him in the quiet kitchen. Sehun stood there for a moment, the sting of the spanking still warming his skin. He stared at the pot in the sink, the one that had felt so heavy just minutes before. Now it seemed lighter, almost insignificant. But the hunger in his chest hadn't gone away. It still gnawed at him.

He dried his hands on a rag, glancing out the window at the slick streets. Somewhere out there, beyond the rain and the rot, was the north. The House of Crimson. And Sehun wanted it more than anything.

~~~

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