Not Throwing Away My Shot
Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the musical Hamilton and I'm not making any money from this fic
Summary: Part of the Lonely Prompts Challenge on Spanking World on Livejournal. Written for this prompt: Someone finds implement(s) in their Christmas stocking or is given one as a gift for another winter holiday or in an office Secret Santa or Yankee Swap.
After Hamilton puts a stop to Philip's duel, he makes use of a gift he brings out a gift he'd planned to give his son
Warning(s): Spanking; spoilers for the entire musical Hamilton; AU; references to violence
Author's Note: As stated in my previous Hamilton fic, this is based on the stage play only and has no relation to the real historical figure of Alexander Hamilton, or any of his family, friends, enemies, casual acquaintances, etc.
Also, this isn't as light-hearted as I expect the prompt was intended for.
"You wouldn't have let it go either." Philip stared into his father's eyes, his own wide, pleading with Alexander to understand.
Was this to be his legacy? To watch his son follow in his footsteps? Alexander looked into his son's face; so young. So earnest. So much like him.
Philip was speaking again. "I've never duelled before, Father. I don't know what the rules are. Will you tell me what to do?"
"No." Alexander's answer was given without hesitation.
Philip narrowed his eyes and took a step back. "What?"
"No. You won't be duelling him," Alexander stated. "Duelling is dangerous. You haven't thought this through, son." He reached out and clasped Philip's shoulder. "Are you prepared to risk your own life just to answer an insult? Are you willing to risk becoming a killer, with everything that entails?"
Philip pulled back sharply, his brows furrowing. "Why not?" he demanded. "Why shouldn't I duel, when you yourself have, along with acting as a second on more than one occasion? Mother told me!" he added defensively.
"When I was your age, I thought everything could be solved with a duel as well," Alexander said.
"I'm defending your honour!"
"Honour?" Alexander shook his head in disbelief. "What price do you put on honour, Philip? Is it worth a man's life? Is it worth your life?"
"You can't stop me." Philip began to back away.
Alexander reached out and grabbed his son's arm, pulling Philip close to him. Before the boy could wriggle free, he'd firmly swatted the seat of his britches.
Philip yelped and immediately threw his hand back to rub at the injured spot, glaring at his father. "You won't change my mind by raising your hand to me!"
Alexander delivered another firm smack, his hand striking low down on his son's backside. His grip remained firm and his aim true as he delivered a series of smacks that had Philip twisting and writhing and his own hand stinging. By the time he paused, his palm was beginning to redden and he could feel a faint hint of warmth every time he swatted Philip's bottom. His son was glaring at him, angry tears standing in his eyes.
"I believe it's time I gave you your winter celebration gift." Keeping a tight hold of Philip's arm, Alexander led his son over to one corner of his office. He reached up to one of the shelves and drew down a cane, hooked at one end. Its colour was a light brown and it was thin, smooth and flexible.
Philip swallowed nervously. "Dad, please..." His eyes were downcast and he was rubbing his bottom.
"I thought to give this to you as a gift to tease you with. I never truly thought I would need to use it." Alexander paused, taking in the blush rising on his son's cheeks, and continued, "But perhaps I was in error. It seems clear to me now that you've been allowed to have your own way for too long. And when we are finished here, you will put an end to the duel. Even if that means not getting an apology." He moved papers to one side, clearing about half of the desk. "Bend over."
Philip stood frozen, crimson staining his cheeks. He darted a look at the desk and then at the cane held in his father's hand. "That's not...you don't..."
Alexander took his son's arm in a firmer grasp and moved Philip closer to his desk. As soon as his son's knees hit the edge, Alexander moved round behind him and pushed on his back until his son bent at the waist, reaching out to grab onto the far edge of the desk with a white-knuckled grip.
Moving to stand to his son's left, Alexander gently tapped the cane against the crest of Philip's backside. Three taps and then he flicked his wrist to snap it down, the crack reverberating through the whole room.
Philip sucked in a sharp breath, only to let it out in a high-pitched gasp as the cane landed a second time, just below the first.
The third strike landed against the very centre of Philip's bottom and Alexander heard a stifled sob. Hardening himself, he brought the cane down smartly six times in total, the final strike aimed at Philip's thighs, making him jump.
Lowering the cane, Alexander let his other hand rest on Philip's back, gently stroking, feeling the tension under the skin. Softly, he asked, "Have I convinced you? Or do you need another six to make the lesson stick?"
"I don't..." Philip's breath hitched and he gave a quiet sob, slumping down over the desk. "I'm sorry, daddy!" he cried.
Placing the cane on the desk, Alexander helped his son to stand and wrapped both arms around Philip, kissing his head as relief made his knees go weak. "I love you," he whispered.
Sniffling, Philip wrapped his arms as tight around his father in return and let his head rest gently on Alexander's shoulder. "I really don't like that gift," he muttered.
"I know." Tightening his embrace, Alexander added, "But it helped me get through to you. I can't lose you, Philip. A father shouldn't have to bury his son."
Philip nodded and took a deep breath. "I love you too, Dad," he whispered. "Thank you for getting through to me...even if it did take a sore backside for that to happen." With a rueful smile, he reached back and rubbed his bottom before asking hopefully, "Will you come with me to speak with Mother now?"
"Yes. It's time I tried to make things right with her." Alexander began to guide his son to the door, even as he added, "But I think we'll hold onto the cane. In case I need it to convince you again."
A soft groan was the only response from Philip as they left the office.