Learning Curve - Disciplinary Action #2 - ch. 8 (Patreon)

Unbeta'd/Unediting. Again, if this isn't your jam, feel free to skip it.

Evander

Matteo was moving on autopilot. So deep in his own thoughts that it was like he’d forgotten Evander was even in the room with him. He was doing his chores without complaint, moving about the house, restoring the order that he’d disturbed in an attempt to get Evander’s attention. Evander was helping. He was. But he found himself stopping to just…stare.

Watching the way Matteo’s hips shifted when he reached for something. The way the muscles in his back moved under golden skin.

Evander had come at this situation logically, just like everything he did. Before he’d brought Matteo into his home, he’d examined every single angle of the situation critically, every pro, every con, every conceivable outcome…except this one. He was having a hard time remembering all of the pros and cons, all the detailed plans, when Matteo was right there. When he was right in front of him, standing in his kitchen, in nothing but the underwear Evander purchased for him, washing Evander’s dishes. Well, their dishes now.

The cotton clung low on his hips. The waistband branded with Evander’s chosen color. A subtle claim. A deliberate one. The things bubbling up from deep down inside Evander had nothing to do with logic and everything to do with emotions.

Or maybe he was just horny. God, he hoped he was just horny.

That had to be it. Obviously, punishing Matteo without the secondary sexual component was frustrating. For both of them. It had been clear that Matteo had wanted more from his punishment as well. He’d accelerated the timeline, not Evander. Evander had planned to give him as much time as he needed to adjust to his new circumstances, but it seemed Matteo wasn’t interested in settling in first. As usual, he wanted everything now. On his timeline. 

Matteo didn’t settle. He provoked. He tested. He demanded. Evander had forgotten who he was dealing with. That made this dangerous territory. It was one thing for there to be an…understanding between them. Evander got Matteo and Matteo got a second chance at making something of himself. Matteo seemed to think he was only worthy of the title trophy husband, but Evander knew better.

He’d seen too much of him to believe that lie.

If, at the end of this arrangement, Matteo still wanted to be just that—Evander’s husband—Evander would be fine with that. But he needed him to see something past his own needs, his own comfort. The level of wealth that Evander had achieved came with responsibility. His mother had drilled into his head how important it was to never take more than he gave. He had no use for billions of dollars, but so many others did.

He didn’t want Matteo having access to this level of money without some sense of responsibility for others. Did that make him an asshole? Probably. But he couldn’t help but remember how sweet Matteo was before his father started in on him. He’d just been this pretty, lovable, quiet kid who’d beg Evander to read him books and steal cookies for him when nobody was looking.

He’d been soft. Curious. Eager to please and Evander had always just been happy to be in the light he radiated.

Matteo's father had systematically stripped every bit of empathy he'd had, scraping one layer at a time until he was just as self-centered and self-serving as his father and grandfather, though on a much smaller scale. Matteo’s ability to inflict suffering on others was contained only by the fact that—at the moment—he had no power, no money, nothing to wield as a weapon. But that would change if he married Evander.

And Evander refused to hand him that kind of power without first teaching him how not to misuse it.

Julian thought Evander was crazy for wanting this, wanting Matteo. He thought it was a challenge, a distraction, some new logic puzzle that Evander just couldn’t relinquish. But it was more than that. Evander was selfish, too. But where Matteo wanted access to money and power, Evander only wanted access to Matteo.

To his breath. His reactions. The small, involuntary sounds he tried to swallow.

He didn’t know how to name this gut-punch feeling that hit him when he looked at him, this weird sense of longing, this…need. It was like part of his soul recognized part of Matteo’s. Maybe there was some past karmic debt between them. Maybe Evander had just loved Matteo for so long it was now encoded in his DNA to want more from him. Whatever it was, when he looked at Matteo, he just…wanted.

He didn’t know how else to put it.

Maybe that was why he did what he did next. There was no logic to it, no reason. No strategy. No long game. Just impulse.

When he stepped behind him, pressing his chest to Matteo’s back, he felt him suck in a startled breath, his whole body going rigid like a frightened animal. His hands fell to Matteo’s hips, his mouth skimming his shoulder. The heat of him. The faint scent of soap and skin.

“Keep going,” he murmured.

“Wh-What?” Matteo stammered.

There was the sound of a dish slipping from soapy fingers and landing in the water below.

“Keep washing the dishes,” Evander said, letting his lips ghost over Matteo’s shoulder.

“'Kay,” Matteo said, voice shaky.

Evander’s hands skimmed up his belly, feeling the faint line of his ab muscles beneath his tan skin. He could feel the tremor there. Not fear. Anticipation. He could feel Matteo breathing hard, his hands going through the motions of cleaning even if he was simply working on the same dish over and over again.

Evander let his tongue trail over the back of his neck, sinking his teeth in before he could think better of it. Matteo yelped in a way that made Evander’s cock fully harden. The sound shot straight through him.

“That hurt,” Matteo whispered.

“So?” Evander asked, licking over the indentations.

Softening what he’d just claimed.

“Do it again,” Matteo said, voice hitching on the last word.

Evander’s hands closed on Matteo’s hips, dragging them back against him, letting him feel how hard he was. Letting him understand exactly what he was provoking.

“Are you giving me orders now?”

“Can you do it again, please…sir?” he added uncertainly.

Evander smiled against his shoulder, before sinking his teeth in once more, feeling the way Matteo’s whole body jerked from the pain.

He was so responsive. So honest in his reactions.

He knew he’d be so good for this. For him. He knew he’d take to this so perfectly. Of course, he would. He was made just for Evander and Evander needed this too.

He didn’t know why. He didn’t know when or how his brain chemistry had shifted to the point where he needed this level of control, this level of dominance, to feel anything. But he didn’t question it. Not when Matteo was practically bent over his sink panting for it. Not when Matteo was leaning into it, instead of away.

“Are you just going to tease me?” Matteo whined, soapy hands now gripping the edge of the counter like he was trying to stabilize himself.

The bravado was gone now. All that was left was need.

“Have you earned more than that?” Evander asked, biting down on his earlobe.

“You said I was good,” Matteo said, accusingly, trying to turn around to face him.

Evander pinned him to the counter. “I said you handled your punishment well. You wouldn’t have needed that punishment if you’d just behaved yourself.”

“You were ignoring me,” Matteo blurted.

The moment the words left him, he froze, like he hadn’t meant to admit that.

Evander stilled as well. That wasn’t bratty. That wasn’t manipulative. That was…honest.

“How have I been ignoring you?” Evander queried, frowning.

He hadn’t been ignoring him, not intentionally. He’d been giving him time to adjust to their arrangement. He hadn’t wanted him thinking that this was only about sex. He’d wanted him to want more from this. He supposed this was Matteo’s way of saying he wanted more without having to use his words.

“You-You just do,” Matteo said stubbornly.

“How?” Evander pushed, keeping him pinned down, even as he let his mouth trail over his narrow shoulders.

“You just come home and eat and check my journal and then just…work,” Matteo said, frustration seeping into his tone.

“And you don’t like that?” Evander asked, warmth blooming in his chest. “You want my attention?”

Matteo hesitated, swallowing audibly.

The pulse beneath Evander’s lips stuttered. “I-I’m just bored. What else am I supposed to do?”

“You were so bored that you deliberately misbehaved hoping I’d punish you?” Evander asked, unable to hide the pleasure the confession brought him.

“Yeah,” Matteo said, sounding uncertain.

“You have your phone, television. Games. I’ve only restricted you from leaving the house at night. Nothing else. You’re telling me that you were so bored you wanted me to physically punish you? That seems like more than just boredom, hatchling.”

“I-I just wanted…” Matteo trailed off. “I don’t know what I wanted.”

Evander pressed a kiss to his throat, feeling the rapid increase of Matteo’s pulse beneath it. He did know. He just didn’t know how to ask for it.

“Was it this? Did you want me to touch you? Were you hoping your punishment might lead to a reward?” He let his hand rest low on Matteo’s belly, just above the waistband of his underwear.

Matteo’s stomach tightened under his palm.

“Maybe,” Matteo admitted gloomily.

“A reward where you got to come?” he asked, teasing a thumb beneath the fabric, but only for a moment.

Just enough to make him ache. Not enough to satisfy him.

“Jerking off in the shower is tedious,” Matteo said, trying to sound blasé, like he needed to regain some kind of control.

“I could put your cock in a cage so you can’t touch it at all,” Evander said casually. “If you think that might help with your control issues.”

Matteo made a noise of frustration, hips twitching back against him before he could stop himself.

“What am I supposed to do when you won’t touch me?” he whined.

Evander’s brows went up. It had barely been a week and Matteo was already this desperate for touch? He should have seen this coming. Matteo had been denied affection for most of his life. He was touch starved. Evander had even written it into the contract, but only that he wouldn’t refuse sex had Matteo initiated it, not that he would try to force the issue. He’d assumed Matteo would hold out longer. Play coy. Pretend he didn’t need it. Instead, he was standing in Evander’s kitchen, half bent over the sink, practically begging for contact and pretending it was boredom. This wasn’t part of the plan. This was need. Raw and poorly disguised. 

And Evander was dangerously close to breaking every rule he’d set for himself.

“Do you want me to touch you?” Evander asked, his thumb sweeping over the bare skin of his belly. “I don’t have to punish you to touch you. It doesn’t have to be sexual for me to touch you either. But you have to ask for it.”

Matteo stiffened, silence stretching between them.

“Is it that hard to ask for me to touch you?”

Matteo gave a stilted nod.

“Because you think I’ll reject you?” Evander prompted.

Matteo hesitated before nodding a second time.

There it was. Not entitlement. Not manipulation. Fear.

“I won’t refuse you,” Evander promised. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll always touch you the way you want. I’m touching you right now. Is this what you wanted?”

“No,” Matteo whispered.

Evander hid his smile in Matteo’s hair.

He liked that answer. Honest.

“No?”

He let his fingers slide beneath his waistband, letting his hand settle low and warm against him. He let his tongue trail over the shell of Matteo’s ear. “How about this?”

Matteo’s breath hitched, a tiny broken whine escaping before he clamped his mouth shut.

The sound tore straight through Evander’s restraint.

He closed his hand around him, feeling the tension there, the heat. Matteo gasped, his weight collapsing against Evander like he couldn’t keep himself upright.

Evander stroked him slowly. Deliberately. Measured. Like this was still a lesson and not something he was losing control of.

When Matteo didn’t answer, Evander nipped at his earlobe. “I asked you a question,” he said, steel leaking into his tone, squeezing his hard length just to hear his breath catch. “Is this what you wanted?”

“Ye-Yes,” Matteo said, head falling onto Evander’s shoulder. “Please.”

His voice sounded so small. Where was that snarky brat he’d known most of his life?

“Even if I don’t let you come?” Evander asked casually. “Even if I take you right to the brink, then send you to bed?”

Matteo’s ragged breaths were loud in the quiet of the kitchen. Evander didn’t stop the slow drag of his palm as the boy warred with himself.

He could feel the conflict in the way Matteo’s fingers tightened on the counter. The way his body strained toward relief even as he tried to hold himself together.

“Well?” Evander prodded, pressing a kiss to the hinge of his jaw. “Do you want me to touch you bad enough that you’re willing to go to bed without coming?”

“Yes,” he cried, the word drenched in frustration.

“Even if I forbid you from getting yourself off?” he asked lightly.

Matteo hesitated. “Y-Yes.”

“I’ll know if you lie to me,” Evander said. “There’s nothing you do in this house that I don’t know about.”

He felt the shiver that threat produced.

It was a lie…but a small one. If Matteo got himself off after Evander tucked him in, he’d never really know it, but he wouldn’t tell Matteo that.

“I won’t lie,” Matteo admitted, breathlessly. “Please don’t stop yet.”

Evander slid his fingers into Matteo’s hair, forcing his head back until he could press their mouths together.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t patient. It was possessive. And completely outside the boundaries he’d intended to keep and Matteo melted into it like he was made for it.

“Pull your underwear down,” Evander rasped against his mouth.

Matteo whimpered, his hands shoving blindly at his own underwear, letting them bunch around his thighs. Evander released him, earning another whine, but Evander just placed his palm below Matteo’s lips. “Spit.” 

Matteo gaped up at him, then complied. 

This time when Evander closed his hand around Matteo’s flushed cock, the glide was easier, but not perfect. He had no doubt that the catch of his palm onto his aching, tacky skin was still just this side of painful. Matteo didn’t seem to care. If anything, he seemed transfixed by it. He was staring up at Evander, eyes wide and shocky, lips parted as he panted. 

Fuck, he looked pretty like this. So pretty Evander was tempted to let him come. Just to see the results, Just to see Matteo all fucked out, cheeks flushed, lips wet and swollen. 

Evander pressed his clothed cock against Matteo’s bare ass, grinding against him, clenching his teeth at the heat that jolted through him.

“You look so hot like this. Tell me when you’re close,” Evander warned. 

“Okay,” Matteo managed, eyes rolling back as his lids slid shut. 

Evander stroked him faster, listening to every hitch of his breath, the twitch of his hips, the moans he couldn’t stifle. He was drinking it all in, every minute of it, his own control fraying by the moment. 

He wasn’t just torturing Matteo. He couldn’t stop himself from rutting against him, caught in his own trap. That was all Matteo had ever been. A trap. One Evander fell into any time they were in the same space. He’d let him make his life hell for years just to be near him, just to exist in his same orbit. And now the tables were turned, but Evander hadn’t. He was still a slave to Matteo in the worst conceivable way. 

Despite what Baxter and Julian thought, Evander didn’t want revenge. He just wanted Matteo—all of him—in the greedy most selfish ways possible. He just wanted to minimize the damage of having him there.

“I’m close,” Matteo gasped. Evander stroked him two more times then forced himself to release him. Matteo sobbed at the sudden loss. “No,” he cried, actual tears springing to his eyes. 

“Sorry, hatchling,” Evander murmured. “But not yet. It’s my turn.” 

“What?” 

Evander shoved his pants down just enough to free his own aching cock, pressing Matteo over the sink. “Hold still.” 

Matteo whimpered, fingers curling against the lip of the sink. He tried to look over his shoulder, but Evander kept him from looking at him. He didn’t want to see him losing it. He stroked himself with one goal in mind, hand working over himself almost painfully, his gaze locked on the side of Matteo’s face. It didn’t take much. Heat curled low in his belly, need building in his core. He’d been close from the moment they touched. 

His jaw clenched as pleasure sparked along his nerves. He was close. So close. He breathed out through his nose, a low growl escaping as he stared down at Matteo, pinned beneath him. He could smell him, the faint scent of cologne still clinging to his skin, dish soap on his hands, the scent of his shampoo—Evander’s shampoo—in the hair Evander now gripped in his hand. 

Matteo was his. Matteo was there, bent over his sink, begging for his touch, his time, his attention. He was right there, needy and wanting, his cock leaking all over Evander’s ugly fucking cabinets because of Evander’s touch, Evander’s words, Evander’s refusal to give him the relief he sought.

Evander’s orgasm punched from him almost painfully, folding him in half, coating Matteo’s lower back and ass. Evander had to grip the counter to keep his legs under him as pleasure rolled over him. Matteo’s shocked gasp shot through him as he rode out the aftershocks, face buried in his neck. 

After a moment, he stood, staring at the mess he’d made, before rubbing his spent cock across the mess, feeling Matteo shiver beneath him. After a moment, he tucked himself back into his pants, but didn’t release him. 

Matteo tried to move, but Evander kept him pinned, letting his fingers spread his cum over Matteo’s lower back, his ass, skimming the crevice in between, before abruptly releasing him and yanking his underwear back into place with a barked, “Don’t wash it off.” 

Matteo turned, blinking up at him, his face flushed, his cock tenting his underwear. His lower lip was swollen, indentations from his front teeth pressed into the flesh. Evander was still breathing hard when he dipped his head, capturing that lip between his own, sucking it briefly before forcing himself to pull back.

Matteo made a small, frustrated sound when he withdrew, like he couldn’t decide whether to chase him or sulk.

“It’s bedtime,” Evander said, forcing himself to sound like he still had some semblance of control of this situation.

Matteo’s face collapsed. “Okay,” he mumbled.

The disappointment was immediate. Unfiltered.

“Don’t pout at me like that. You said this was what you wanted,” he murmured.

Matteo huffed. “I didn’t think you’d actually give me blue balls. I don’t remember you being so mean.”

Evander chuckled. The sound came out rougher than he intended. “I rarely say something I don’t mean. Besides, how am I mean? Just because you chose instant gratification in the moment over suffering later, doesn’t mean I’m mean. I gave you a choice. Now you have to suffer the consequences, as uncomfy as they may be.”

“Whatever,” Matteo mumbled, pouting cutely.

He looked wrecked. Flushed. Kissed. Claimed. Evander had to physically stop himself from reaching for him again.

“Come on. I’ll tuck you in and then I’ll finish the kitchen myself. You need some sleep.”

Matteo’s eyes widened but then quickly narrowed with suspicion. “Am I gonna be punished for it tomorrow?”

Evander frowned.“For what?” Then realization dawned. “For not finishing the kitchen? Of course not. You were already punished for not doing your chores. Why would I punish you for something that I am offering to do myself? I’m not trying to trick you,” Evander promised, tilting his head up and kissing his pouting mouth. “I don’t need a reason to punish you, remember? You belong to me.”

Evander’s dick tried to rally as Matteo’s pupils dilated at the statement. 

Oh. He liked hearing that. Not the threat. The ownership. The certainty, maybe? Evander tucked that away for later.

Matteo responded so beautifully to praise. It made Evander want to spoil him. Which had not been part of the plan. There were rules. There was a system. There was a series of things that needed to occur before real change could take place. And, for once in his life, Evander wanted to burn his own rulebook and just…see. See what Matteo would become if he was loved instead of managed.

But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. This was way too important. Matteo was way too important. He needed this. And Evander needed him.

Matteo gave a startled cry as Evander lifted him off his feet. His legs came around his hips, arms wrapping around his neck as he clung to him like he worried he might drop him. 

Evander carried him to Matteo’s bedroom, noting his unmade bed with a roll of his eyes, before he laid him down on the crumpled sheets. The room still smelled faintly of him—clean skin and the lingering sharpness of soap as well as the expensive detergent the housekeeper bought for their laundry.

Evander sat on the edge of the bed, one arm propped on Matteo’s other side so he hovered over him.

“No more acting out tomorrow. Okay?”

Matteo sucked his bottom lip between his teeth once more, gaze floating away, like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to agree to that or not.

Evander gripped his chin, forcing him to look at him. “Okay?”

Matteo’s lashes fluttered. Defiance warred with something softer.

“And you’ll still start my punishments tomorrow?” Matteo asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” Evander promised. “Those aren’t dependent on your behavior. But the severity of your punishment is. Don’t think that just because I spanked you for the day that you won’t be given consequences should you choose to act out. Understand?”

He needed him steady. Needed him grounded. Needed him to know this wasn’t chaos.

Matteo nodded, his eyes shiny in the dim light. “Yeah.”

Evander sighed. “Is that how you answer me?”

Matteo flushed. “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy,” Evander praised, petting his hand over his hair before pushing it off his forehead, leaning down to press a kiss onto the skin there. So what if he lingered a little longer than necessary. It was just a forehead kiss. 

The praise landed harder than he expected it to. He felt it in the way Matteo stilled beneath his palm.

When he sat back up, Matteo looked shellshocked, but before Evander could ponder the reason, he flipped onto his side, facing away from him. “Good night.”

The withdrawal was sudden. Defensive.

“Night,” Evander said, extinguishing Matteo’s light before exiting, shutting the door behind him.

The click of the latch felt louder than it should have.

He was already in his own bed, trying and failing to read a proposal from the Douglas Group, when what they’d done truly hit him. He’d lost control. He’d completely disregarded his own rules to touch Matteo, to watch him come apart in his arms. He’d bent him over and marked him, rubbed his come into his skin like some kind of animal. He hadn’t meant to claim him like that. It hadn’t been part of the lesson.

There was a part of himself that was so disturbed by his lack of willpower when it came to Matteo. The strategist in him. The man who prided himself on restraint. But another part, the predator in him, was basking in the knowledge that Matteo would sleep covered in his scent, used and marked. That tomorrow Matteo would wake up knowing he’d been claimed. 

Fuck.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, staring at the ceiling.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He was meant to reform him. Refine him. Teach him discipline and responsibility. Not unravel at the first honest plea for touch. But that was the real problem. The issue wasn’t losing control. It was that he hadn’t felt out of control. He’d felt like he was doing exactly as he liked. And that was far worse. But that was tomorrow Evander’s problem. Tonight’s Evander would close his eyes and relive that look on Matteo’s face while Evander had his hands on him, consequences be damned.