yay it's (not as long) part two
let's break our hearts some more, shall we? :)
(by the way i (ansley) will be leaving for a twelve-day europe trip tomorrow (today's saturday) and i don't know if mariana will be able to update so we might be totally inactive)
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As soon as Scott leaves the room, Mitch finally lets his muscles relax, and he curls tighter in a ball as he wills himself not to cry. His breathing is still shaky and his heart rate is considerably faster than it normally is, and he closes his eyes in an attempt to calm them. Faintly, the Omega can hear Scott clanking around in his kitchen down the hall, and has to physically restrain himself from going down to help him. Truthfully, Mitch doesn't trust Scott at all. Sure, he's the nicest anyone has ever been to him, but Mitch is sure that Scott is going to want something from him in the end, and doesn't want to be crushed when the moment inevitably comes.
Then, sighing, Mitch carefully uncurls from his ball, wincing as his muscles scream in protest. He stretches his limbs and pauses for a moment before settling himself down again, sucking in a breath as a knife-like pain shoots through his leg.
Meanwhile, Scott finally finishes making the sandwich and carries it towards his room, balancing a glass of milk precariously on edge of the plate. He gently pushes open the door with his foot, and comes inside to see Mitch in his Omega position and his eyes tiredly glowing blue. "I-I accept your p-punishment, s-sir," he whispers barely audibly, fear showing clearly in his eyes. Scott frowns, coming fully inside the room and gently setting the milk and plate on the dresser before coming to kneel in front of him.
"Explain to me why I would punish you, please."
"Be-because I'm a h-h-horrible Om-Omega."
Scott raises an eyebrow, but chooses to ignore that, even though his heart hurts at how Mitch didn't even pause to think. "Specifics, please."
"I r-ruined your rep-reputation, I d-dirtied y-your bed, I d-didn't let y-you t-t-touch me, a-and I didn't m-make m-my own f-food."
"Hmmmm." Mitch waits silently for Scott's decision, his muscles slightly tense and his eyes flickering between blue and brown. "I still don't think you should be punished," Scott says eventually, "now sit up. I have food for you." Mitch immediately obeys, ignoring the pain from everywhere. Scott turns away from him and grabs the plate and milk off the dresser, turning back towards Mitch and carefully handing him them the food. Mitch takes it and sets down what he can on his lap, murmuring a soft "Th-thank you, sir" before picking up the sandwich with the hand that isn't holding the milk and nibbling carefully on the edge. Scott crosses his arms from his chest and makes his posture as dominant as he can. "We're not leaving this room until you eat all of that, you hear me?" he commands, and Mitch nods without looking up. "Yes, sir."
True to his word, Scott stands there silently watching Mitch eat the small sandwich for the entire hour it takes, only coming out of his dominant posture when the Omega finishes the last bite. He still doesn't say a word, though, watching Mitch carefully bring the cup to his lips, take a tentative sip, and then gulp down the rest of the milk as though he hadn't drank in days. Then, licking his lips, Mitch looks up at Scott. "I-I'm done, s-sir," he says quietly, and Scott nods. "Good job. Give the dishes to me." Mitch immediately holds them out, frowning confusedly when Scott takes them, and starts to leave the room. "Wh-where are y-you going?" he asks softly, but immediately flinches. "I'm s-sorry, s-sir. D-d-don't p-punish me, p-please. I-I d-don't th-think I can t-take another p-punishment t-today. Y-y-you c-could do it to-tomorrow, though. I-I'll be all r-rested up th-then a-and —"
