Learning Curve-Disciplinary Action #2 - ch. 11 (Patreon)

I'm baaaackkkkkkkk...

With some schmoop and smut. Unbeta'd/Unedited. I'm feeling very vulnerable so please ignore any typos or inconsistencies for now.

Matteo

Matteo’s hands were shaking. His insides were shaking. He wasn’t sure what to do or how to do it. He was overthinking his every move. They’d eaten dinner in relative silence, with Evander watching him closely. Matteo had tried not to look like he wanted to throw up, but given Evander’s scrutiny, he’d probably failed. Every time Evander’s gaze landed on him, heat curled low in his stomach alongside the nausea, confusing enough that he’d nearly lost his appetite entirely.

“Hey,” Evander said softly.

Matteo flinched like he’d snapped at him. He winced internally, then looked at Evander with a tight smile. “I’m fine. I promise.”

Evander studied him for a moment, then nodded. “I was just going to say that all you have to do is follow my instructions. You can do that, right?”

Matteo snorted. “You make it sound so easy.”

Evander shrugged. “The punishment isn’t easy. Nothing I do to you will ever be easy. But I’ll talk you through all of it. You don’t have to think about anything.”

Matteo hated how much that soothed something in him. The knot between his shoulders loosened despite himself, his body reacting before his pride could catch up. “Anything?”

Evander shook his head. “The only decision you have to make is whether it gets to be too much for you.”

Matteo swallowed audibly. That should’ve made him feel trapped, but somehow it did the opposite. “Yeah, okay.”

Matteo hated ambiguity. He hated having to wonder if he was doing something right or whether he was walking into some kind of trap laid out by his father or grandfather. The idea of not thinking for a while sounded…nice. Even if there was pain involved.

Pain.

Would it be excruciating? Was he about to embarrass himself? Wasn’t the whole thing humiliating? Getting stripped bare? Getting spanked? His body flushed just thinking about it. His pulse throbbed strangely hot under his skin, adrenaline making him feel oversensitive, too aware of every inch of himself. What would other people think if they knew? 

What did he care? He didn’t have any friends. Except maybe Cal? Maybe. And Cal also got spanked on the regular apparently so…who was he to judge Matteo?

When Evander stood, Matteo bolted to his feet, almost knocking over the chair. Evander was nice enough to pretend he didn’t notice. He crossed the short distance to Matteo, then cupped his face, tipping his head back.

The touch was steady and warm, grounding in a way Matteo didn’t understand. His thoughts had been ricocheting for the last hour, but Evander’s hand against his jaw seemed to quiet them for half a second.

“Are you listening?” he asked, though not in any mean way.

“Yes,” Matteo managed.

“I’m going to do the dishes,” Evander said. “You’re going to go into my bedroom. Take off your clothes, fold them neatly on the chair, then kneel on the bed, hands behind your back to wait for me. Eyes down. Do you understand?”

“Yes…yes, sir,” he added, voice shaking.

The title left his mouth awkwardly, but Evander’s expression softened almost imperceptibly anyway, like Matteo had done something right. The approval hit him with a sharp, dizzying warmth he absolutely did not want to examine too closely.

He just had to do what he said. That's it. He could do that. He could follow instructions.

Evander pressed warm lips to his forehead. “Good boy.”

Electricity seared through him at the words, his breath hitching. The praise hit harder than it should have, sinking embarrassingly deep into his chest. Something inside him practically leaned toward it before he caught himself. He walked to Evander’s room on wobbly legs, feeling like he might collapse before he made it to the room.

His chest was tight, his muscles tensed. At least there wasn’t much to remove. His fingers fumbled clumsily at his boxers, trembling badly enough that he had to stop and exhale before trying again. He didn’t know if he was supposed to face the door or the wall or…somewhere else. He chose to look at the wall, that way he couldn’t see Evander’s face when he entered.

Naked and kneeling on the bed, Matteo became painfully aware of every sensation—the cool air against his overheated skin, the pounding of his heartbeat, the vulnerable stretch of his shoulders as he clasped his hands behind his back. His stomach twisted with humiliation, but beneath it, quieter and infinitely more dangerous, was anticipation.

He scrunched his toes, then relaxed them, squeezed his hands into fists at the small of his back, then released them. His body felt wound too tight, every muscle straining with nervous energy that had nowhere to go.

Time dripped like honey, every second feeling like an hour. Was he deliberately making him wait? The waiting might’ve been worse than the punishment itself. It gave Matteo too much time to think, too much time to imagine what was coming and how humiliating it would be once it actually started. 

He started to hyperfocus on every noise, every sound, the AC kicking on, the whirring of Evander’s laptop which sat open on the table beside the chair he sat in yesterday, Matteo’s blood rushing in his ears. The ordinary sounds felt strangely sharp, his senses stretched thin with anticipation.

When the door opened, he jumped, his heart rate galloping. His breaths came faster, like he was jogging instead of just sitting on his knees waiting. He listened to faint footsteps and the opening and closing of drawers. The sound of wood sliding against wood made his stomach dip. 

What was he doing? The uncertainty made heat crawl up the back of his neck.

When Evander entered his periphery, he was unbuttoning the sleeves of his crisp shirt, rolling them to his forearms. Fuck, he was so hot. He focused on the veins snaking along his thick forearms. 

Once more, Matteo swallowed the heart lodged firmly in his throat. Evander was looking at him, inspecting him. Not coldly. Carefully. Like Matteo was something important enough to pay attention to. He continued to stare at the mattress, just watching from the corner of his eye. Was he supposed to look at Evander now?

His answer came in the form of Evander’s finger curling under his chin, tipping it upwards until he was looking in his eyes. “That’s better.”

The praise in those two quiet words hit Matteo embarrassingly hard. His chest tightened, something warm and aching unfurling beneath the fear.

He ran a finger down Matteo’s breastbone, the midline of his abs, not stopping until he was skimming it over his half-hard cock.

Matteo sucked in a breath. His skin felt too sensitive already, every touch sparking through him like a live wire.

“Someone’s excited,” he murmured, swiping his fingertip over the slit, gathering the bit of wetness there and bringing it to Matteo’s own lips.

Matteo opened for him, tasting the bitter fluid on his tongue. Evander slanted their mouths together, tongue sweeping inside like he couldn’t help it, like he wanted a taste too. It was over as quickly as it started. Matteo hated how much he wanted Evander. Hated how his body responded automatically, knees spreading slightly on the mattress before he could stop himself.

“Who do you belong to?” Evander asked, a steely edge to his tone.

This again.

“You,” he mumbled.

The word felt heavier now, harder to throw away like a joke while he sat naked and trembling beneath Evander’s attention.

Evander chuckled, brushing one of Matteo’s stiffened nipples with his thumb. “Why do I punish you?”

“Cause you’re a sadist?” Matteo snarked, though nerves stole most of its bite.

Even to his own ears, the sarcasm sounded weak. Thin. More reflex than resistance.

“Because you need structure, Matteo,” Evander said, as if he hadn’t spoken. “You spiral without it.”

“And hurting me is the only way to help me?” Matteo asked, tone venomous.

“It's not about hurting you, it's about correcting you. But yes, hurting you is the only way I can help you.”

The certainty in Evander’s voice sent a strange shiver through him. Matteo didn’t understand why being handled so firmly made something deep inside him want to relax instead of run. When had Matteo felt that certain about anything? 

Never.

Matteo bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying something stupid. He wasn’t even mad at Evander. He hated how much he wanted all of this to be real. He wanted Evander in charge. He wanted to be his. Just his. He just wanted him to want him back. He said he loved Matteo. That he’d always loved him. But love is a word lots of people throw around. Even his grandfather…when it suited him.

Still, his body kept betraying him. Every calm touch from Evander loosened another knot inside him, leaving him feeling strangely heavy and floaty at the same time, like he was slowly sinking into something he didn’t fully understand.

Matteo’s cock twitched when he heard the clinking of Evander’s belt unbuckling. Would he use that to discipline him? Would it hurt worse than his hand? Matteo’s father had slapped him in the face. He’d shoved him, humiliated him, he’d even given him a black eye and two bruised ribs after the Cal debacle. But he’d never been…spanked before, with a hand or anything else.

This felt different already. His father’s violence had always come sharp and unpredictable, fueled by rage and humiliation. This was deliberate. Controlled. Somehow that made it scarier. Somehow it also made Matteo’s body loosen in anticipation instead of locking up completely.

Evander tsked, curling the belt around his hand menacingly. “Poor thing. You look terrified. Want to change your mind?”

Matteo tipped his chin up defiantly. “I’m fine. Just do it already.”

Even he could hear the strain in his voice, breath too thin, confidence cracking around the edges.

“You have all the makings of a real brat. I can’t wait,” Evander said, shaking his head. “But since you’re so eager…”

Fuck.

He took a seat on the edge of the bed, legs spread almost lewdly, belt still coiled like a snake. “Come.” He curled two fingers in his direction. “Over my knees.”

Over his knees? Like an errant child? 

“Seriously?”

Evander didn’t respond, just raised one brow. “You can be bratty if you want to. In fact, I prefer it. But the only one who’s going to suffer for it is you, hatchling. Now move.”

Matteo’s heart hammered so hard against his ribs, he was sure it would explode from his chest. His skin felt…alive. His body hyperaware. Everything amplified. The room suddenly seemed too warm and too cold all at once, his pulse roaring in his ears as adrenaline flooded his bloodstream.

Evander sat back enough for Matteo to lie across his lap and the mattress. It took a moment or two to find where he fit. It was awkward—humiliating—but not uncomfortable. In fact, the feel of Evander’s thick thighs beneath his hips and torso were a welcome distraction. Solid. Steady. Matteo hated the way some frightened, needy part of him immediately latched onto that steadiness.

“Look at you,” Evander murmured, once more trailing a finger down his spine, along the cleft between his cheeks, lower to skim the spot just behind his balls.

His breath hitched. The touch sent a sharp jolt through him, pleasure and humiliation tangling together so tightly he couldn’t separate them anymore.

“You love having me at your mercy,” Matteo muttered. “Probably been jerking it to this fantasy for years.”

Evander chuckled. “Longer than you could even fathom.”

The possessiveness in his tone made Matteo’s stomach flip hard enough to ache.

Blunt nails dug into the meat of Matteo’s inner thigh until he hissed in pain. Evander laughed once again, but soothed his thumb over the indentations. 

The quick shift from sting to soothing touch confused his body even more. Pain, then comfort. Pressure, then gentleness. His nerves didn’t know what to do with it.

“I was going to start with ten but since you’re being so mouthy, let's do twenty-five instead. Hmm?”

Fear shocked through him. “Twenty-five!?”

The number hit him like a physical blow. His stomach dropped, muscles tightening instinctively across Evander’s lap.

Evander rubbed his palm across Matteo’s ass like his body was his to do as he pleased. “Would you prefer fifty?”

“You’re a lunatic,” Matteo gasped.

“Mm,” Evander agreed. “But that’s neither here nor there, now is it? Are you done being a little shit or…”

“I’m done,” Matteo said through gritted teeth.

For now, anyway. The fight was still there, but it was getting harder to hold onto beneath the fear and the strange heavy warmth spreading through him every time Evander touched him.

“Excellent.”

He picked up his left hand, the one with the belt wrapped around it, then let the leather fall to the floor, the buckle clinking against the floor.

“You’re not using it?” Matteo asked before he could think to stop himself.

“Not for your first time. I’m not a monster.” There was a loud crack and pain seared across his skin.

Matteo jerked violently with a strangled gasp, fingers curling helplessly into the comforter. The sting radiated outward in a hot wave, so sharp and sudden it momentarily wiped every coherent thought from his head.

“But if you don’t address me properly. I might reconsider. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Matteo grumbled, ass cheek throbbing.

Heat pulsed beneath his skin where Evander had struck him, his body already anticipating the next blow with dreadful awareness.

Fuck, that actually hurt. Was he going to survive this?

“You can cry, you can whine, you can beg me to stop but unless you safeword, I’ll keep going. Understand?”

The words should’ve terrified him. Instead, something deep in his chest loosened at the certainty of them. Evander wasn’t going to lose control. He wasn’t going to suddenly explode in rage or change the rules halfway through. Matteo realized with dizzying confusion that his body was starting to believe that.

Matteo’s mouth was a desert. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now what do you say if you need to pause?”

“Yellow,” Matteo said obediently.

Evander rubbed over the spot he’d spanked him. The sting softened beneath the broad sweep of his palm, warmth spreading through the ache until Matteo couldn’t tell where the pain ended and comfort began. “And if you need to stop?”

Matteo fought the urge not to push into the sensation. “Red.”

“Excellent.” Matteo hated how much the praise bloomed in his chest. It settled there hot and heavy, embarrassingly satisfying. “You will count each one. Normally, if you mess up, stammer or forget, I would make you start over. But I’m being lenient with you this time.” When Matteo said nothing, Evander said, “You should thank me.”

“Thank you, sir,” Matteo mumbled.

The words came easier now. Less forced. That realization unsettled him more than the threat of the spanking itself.

“Lets begin,” Evander said, the hand on his ass disappearing.

Matteo’s whole body tensed but nothing happened.

The anticipation clawed at him. His nerves stretched tighter and tighter in the silence, waiting for impact that refused to come.

When he turned to look at Evander, he was already watching him. “It hurts more when you tense like that.”

“What do you care?” Matteo shot back.

The slow smile that spread across Evander’s handsome face had Matteo instantly regretting his words.

“Okay,” Evander said. “Have it your way.”

The first slap tore the air from his lungs and a high pitched cry from his lips. The previous swat had clearly been a warning. This sting didn’t just stay, it seemed to bleed across the rest of his body like it was seeping into his bloodstream. Before he could get his bearings, the hand came down again, then again.

The pain was shocking in its intensity, hot and bright enough to blank his thoughts for half a second.

“Ow, wait—” Matteo yelped.

Evander didn’t wait.

His body no longer felt entirely under his control, every strike dragging reactions out of him automatically.

“No,” Evander said calmly. “Count. None of these count until you do.”

"What?" Matteo cried. "That's not fair."

Slap.

Slap.

“Three?”

“Two.”

“Two?” Matteo wailed. “No way. That was at least three.” 

Evander didn't argue. His hand came down again, then again. He was alternating sides, left cheek, right cheek in a rhythm as steady as a metronome. The pain was jarring, electric, it made his whole body jerk, perspiration erupting along his skin.

"Wait. Wait." Matteo cried, already losing his count.

His voice cracked embarrassingly high, panic and pain tangling together in his chest.

“Shall we start again at one, just to be certain?” Evander asked calmly.

His hand cracked across his ass once more, pulling another pathetic cry from him. Fuck, this hurt so badly.

"No, we're at five?"

"Five?" Evander asked. "Are you certain?"

"Yes. Yes. It's five."

“Actually, it's six but we'll go with five,” Evander said breezily.

That calmness was almost worse than the spanking itself. Evander wasn’t angry. Wasn’t out of control. He sounded steady, grounded, completely certain while Matteo came apart across his lap.

Matteo sulked silently.

More like seven or even eight, you sadistic dickhead.

The next one stole any remaining thoughts, forcing him to concentrate. "Six."

"There you go," Evander said, rubbing over Matteo's stinging ass cheek a moment before his hand came down again.

The cadence of his smacks became hypnotic. He didn’t slow, he didn’t hesitate. Left, right, left, right. Every time his hand came down on the same spot the pain grew louder, his skin on fire. He could feel it throbbing in time with his heartbeat which was pounding in his ears.

Somewhere around six or seven, the rhythm itself started getting into his head. The strikes stopped feeling random and became inevitable, his body learning the pattern even as he squirmed against it.

Matteo counted, but it wasn’t even registering, tears streamed down his cheeks forming a wet spot on the mattress. Evander’s hard length pressed against his hip. Matteo wanted to say something about his pain turning Evander on but he was hard too. Inexplicably.

That realization sent confusion spiraling through him. He hurt. He was humiliated. He should’ve wanted to escape. Instead his body felt hot and floaty, arousal tangled up so tightly with the pain he couldn’t separate them anymore.

When they reached ten, Evander stopped, rubbing Matteo’s abused skin. It felt damp. Some crazy part of him thought maybe he was bleeding, but he knew it was just sweat.

The pause hit him strangely hard. His body kept braced for the next strike even while Evander soothed him, adrenaline making him tremble uncontrollably across his lap.

“You look so pretty like this,” Evander said, sounding…not surprised exactly, but almost awestruck.

Now the heat bloomed behind Matteo’s ribs. He wanted to be flippant but heard himself say, “Thank you…sir.”

The praise slid into him easier now, sinking deep enough to make his chest ache.

“Can’t hold onto the attitude anymore, can you?” he murmured.

“I—feel weird,” Matteo mumbled.

The words slipped out before he could stop them. Honest. Small.

“Don’t fight it,” Evander said.

His reply came soft and immediate, his brain too foggy to summon sarcasm fast enough. “‘Kay.”

The next strike landed just beneath his ass, Evander’s large palm striking his thigh just below the crease. Matteo jerked like a puppet on strings, a tiny scream escaping. “Twelve," he said voice strangled.

The new spot burned viciously, pain splintering through his thighs hard enough to make his vision blur for a second.

Evander didn’t acknowledge his words, just struck him again on the opposite thigh.

“Thir-thirteen.”

“Stop squirming.”

Matteo tried. He really did. But his body was beginning to feel distant and oversensitive at the same time, every strike knocking another coherent thought loose inside his head.

“It hurts.”

“Yes, I know. Now behave.”

Matteo wasn’t sure when it happened or even how but soon the pain was blocking out the noise in his head. Things went quiet. The pain started to become something else altogether, something that made him feel like he was having an out of body experience.

The sharp sting blurred at the edges, melting into heat and rhythm and something strangely heavy beneath his ribs. His thoughts stopped ricocheting long enough for him to realize just how loud they’d been before. Now there was only Evander’s voice, the ache spreading across his skin, and the strange floating sensation pulling him under.

“Feel yourself floating?” Evander said, tone almost gentle.

“Yes,” Matteo slurred.

Even speaking felt difficult suddenly, his tongue thick and his brain slow, like he was drifting somewhere too deep to reach properly.

“Good boy. Just let it happen.”

More tears slipped hot down his cheeks at the praise.

The words settled inside him like warmth, loosening something painful and tightly wound in his chest.

Another slap. “Sixteen,” he whispered.

“Louder.”

“Sixteen,” he cried.

His own voice sounded far away to him, watery and wrecked.

“Better.”

Slap.

“Sev-seventeen,” he mumbled. “I-I can’t think…”

“Good.”

The approval hit him harder than the spanking had a few minutes ago.

Slap.

“Eighteen,” he said.

Slap.

“Evander?” he asked, hating how small and scared he sounded.

It wasn’t the pain. It didn’t even hurt anymore. Not in the same way anyway. Something had shifted inside him. His thoughts were hazy, his limbs heavy, his whole body one live wire.

Every strike sent another wave of heat rolling through him, not sharp anymore but deep and spreading, his body almost humming with it. He couldn’t tell where one sensation ended and the next began.

“You’re okay,” Evander said, his free hand pushing his sweaty hair from his forehead. “You’re doing so well. You’re drifting for me now, aren’t you, baby?”

Baby.

The pet name cracked something open inside him. Softness flooded his chest so fast it almost hurt.

A soft sob escaped before he could catch it. “Am I?” he slurred.

“Are you what?” Evander asked softly, still soothing his fingers through his damp hair. 

“Your baby?” 

“You already know the answer but I’ll tell you again,” Evander said, leaning closer. “You’ve always been mine. You’ll always be mine.” 

The words had an almost threatening edge to them but it just made Matteo feel flayed open. He just wanted someone to take care of him, to care about him, to love him. No, he wanted Evander to care about him. He wanted Evander to love him. Deep down in a place he refused to acknowledge, maybe he always had wanted him.

“It’s too much,” Matteo sobbed.  

“Do you want to stop?” Evander asked, fingertips caressing over his blistering skin.

He must have thought Matteo meant the punishment, not the words. Not his own thoughts. Still, the fact that he was asking mattered more than Matteo could explain through the fog in his head.

“No,” he cried. “I’m just…scared.”

Scared because he liked it. Scared because he didn’t want it to stop. Scared because he’d never felt this held by another person in his life.

“Don’t be scared,” Evander said. “I’ve got you. I’m never going to let anything bad happen to you.”

Matteo knew he meant in the scene but in that moment it felt like he meant forever and that somehow made him even more emotional. He wanted Evander to protect him. To shield him. Shelter him. Did that make him a bad person?

Fresh tears spilled down his face, his chest aching with a confusing swell of relief and grief and want.

“Shall we continue?”

“Yes…” Matteo said, his words sounding wrong even to himself.

Too soft. Too trusting.

The next three slaps dragged him deeper and deeper into his watery thoughts, everything dulled, a strange euphoric sensation bubbled up within him as he counted on autopilot. He wasn’t even tensing. If anything, he anticipated the next wave of whatever chemical was pumping through his bloodstream.

His body had stopped fighting entirely, melting bonelessly across Evander’s lap between strikes. The impacts still landed hard enough to make him gasp, but afterward came that floating warmth again, pulling him deeper each time.

“Please keep talking,” Matteo heard himself cry.

The admission horrified him somewhere very far away, but he couldn’t seem to stop needing the sound of Evander’s voice anchoring him in place.

“I’m right here. We're almost done. You're doing so well.”

Slap.

“Twenty-two.”

“You’re so soft when you stop fighting me,” Evander said, voice a low rasp that sank into Matteo’s bones.

The words wrapped around him, and Matteo’s exhausted brain clung to them greedily.

Slap.

“Twenty-three,” he cried, his sobs catching as tears ran into his mouth.

Slap.

“Twenty-four.”

“Last one,” Evander said.

Some irrational part of Matteo felt a flicker of disappointment through the haze. The last one was his softest one yet. A glancing blow, almost a caress. The gentleness of it after everything else nearly undid him completely.

“Twenty-five,” Matteo whispered.

“You did it,” Evander said. “You took it so well. I’m so proud of you. My good boy.”

The praise poured through Matteo like warm water, his body going startlingly limp with it.

Matteo didn’t want it to be over. He didn’t want this to end. He didn’t want to be sent to his room. He wanted Evander. He wanted him in a way that tore at his insides. Matteo knew what he was supposed to do next. According to the contract—per Cal—he was supposed to thank Evander sexually. 

Deep down, Matteo knew that Evander wouldn’t push that aspect of his domestic discipline, not yet. But suddenly Matteo wanted nothing more than to please Evander. He slid from across his lap to sink onto his knees between Evander’s open legs. He reached for the button on his pants. 

“Hey, that’s not a part of this. Not tonight,” Evander said, catching his wrists in his hands. 

“Please?” Matteo heard himself beg. “Please. I want to. Don’t say no.” 

If he said no Matteo would die on the spot of embarrassment. 

Evander searched his face for a long moment, then he sat back on his palms. “Take my shirt off first. If I get fluids on it, Baxter will hang me with it.” 

Relief surged through him. His fingers trembled as he fumbled his way through unbuttoning his shirt,  but sliding the material off his shoulders had Matteo’s mouth going dry. Evander pulled the shirt off, letting it rest beside him.

Matteo looked his fill. Evander was so beautiful, so broad. His skin golden, his teeth perfect. Matteo’s hands settled on the button of Evander’s pants once more, looking at him in askance. 

He gave a single nod, his hand cupping Matteo’s face, thumb stroking his cheekbone. “You’re so pretty like this.” 

“I’m always pretty,” Matteo mumbled, as he opened his pants, fingers curling into Evander’s waistband. 

“True,” Evander acknowledged with a small smile, running his finger over Matteo’s full lower lip. “But never as pretty as when you’re crying on your knees for me.” 

Matteo didn’t respond, just looked up at him through thick lashes, tugging hard on his pants to let him know he wanted him to lift up. As soon as Evander complied, Matteo dragged his pants and underwear down his legs, pulling them off then placing them on the ground in a pile. 

“Is that how you treat my clothes?” Evander asked, that stern edge bleeding back into his tone.  

Matteo flushed, cock jolting in recognition. He scooped up the discarded items, looking around until he saw the laundry basket just inside Evander’s open closet doors.  He walked on rubbery legs, tossing the items in before returning to his position between Evander’s now splayed thighs. 

Fuck, Evander was totally naked, weight resting on his palms, his cock standing at attention from a trim dusting of fair hair. He was such a…man.  When had his nerdy Evander become…this? This beautiful confident creature who made Matteo feel so small, so unworthy of him.

 He skimmed his fingertips along Evander’s thighs, enjoying the feel of the wiry hair against his palms. He wanted to taste every part of him, wanted to take his time and explore every inch, learn everything that made him fall apart, lose some of that neverending composure. But he didn’t dare do anything but what he was told. Getting on his knees for him was already more than he’d anticipated tonight. 

Evander didn’t push him, didn’t try to steer him any type of way. He just sat watching as Matteo tried to figure out just what he was doing. His limited experience with guys was coming back to haunt him. He’d been with more girls than guys and the few guys he had hooked up with, he’d been almost too drunk to remember. 

He bit his lip as he wrapped his hand around Evander’s length, giving it a squeeze before he stroked it experimentally, his own cock twitching when Evander sucked in a sharp breath. 

Matteo bit his lip, looking up at him with as much innocence as he could muster. “Can I?” 

Evander’s mouth turned up at the corners just a bit. “You may.” 

Heat settled low in his core as he leaned closer, Evander’s scent flooding his nose, making him feel like he had just moments ago. He tried to do what he liked, what he’d seen others do in porn. He licked his way up the underside of Evander’s thick shaft, admiring the shape of it, the feel against his tongue. He tasted like salt and warm skin.

Matteo hadn’t had enough sex to consider himself a size queen but Evander was above average in every way, just not freakishly so. Matteo blamed his cobweb-filled brain for the ease at which he let himself just have this. 

When Matteo closed his lips around the tip, Evander groaned, head falling back. His hips jerked like he was trying to keep from fucking his way into Matteo’s throat. Lightning zipped through his blood at the thought. What would that feel like? Evander holding him down. Evander using him. Evander just taking whatever he wanted, while Matteo just…let him. 

Matteo hummed around Evander at the picture that formed in his head, while he  sucked almost daintily at the head of his cock, tongue teasing at his slit, tasting him, another low noise escaping. 

Evander shifted restlessly, his breath escaping through his nose. His hand rested on Matteo’s head, fingers flexing in his hair. 

Matteo pulled off with a comically loud pop, sitting back on his heels, looking up at Evander with as pitiful a look as he could muster. “I-I’m not really sure what I’m doing,” he admitted. “Can you just…use me…sir?” 

Matteo got to see Evander’s mouth fall open, eyes widening in surprise. “Use you?” he asked, sounding a bit strangled. “Meaning what exactly.” 

Matteo felt his face flush, his ears growing hot. “You know, just fuck my mouth or my throat, I guess? Just…use me to get off.” 

Evander looked like his soul left his body for a moment, then said, “You don’t have to do this.” 

“Please,” he asked again. 

Evander faltered.  Just because Matteo said please? Something bubbled in Matteo’s belly, not butterflies but maybe bees. How much power did Matteo hold over Evander? 

“Please?” he tried again. 

“You little tease,” Evander said, but he was already threading his fingers in Matteo’s hair, guiding him back to his cock. “How can anyone look like both Madonna and whore at the same time?” he mused. 

Matteo let his mouth fall open, extending his tongue as he looked up at him. 

Evander’s free hand fell to his chin, tugging it wider. “Relax your throat and breathe through your nose. Tap my thigh three times if it's too much.” 

There was something about the authoritative tone, his hungry look, that had Matteo’s insides melting. He nodded as best he could. His free hand fell to his own thigh, inches from his straining cock.  

“No touching yourself,” Evander added sharply, earning a whine from Matteo. “Be a good boy.” 

Matteo let his head go empty as Evander guided his cock past his lips, the weight heavy on his tongue. His hold tightened in Matteo’s hair, pulling him down as he slowly rolled his hips. He gagged as Evander hit the back of his throat, his muscles convulsing as he fought not to heave. 

Evander hissed, pulling back, the large hand on his jaw falling to encircle his neck. He didn’t squeeze, just held him still. Matteo whined, hips bucking, wishing he could get some friction. He wasn’t even being touched but he was going crazy. He needed Evander to touch him, hold him, talk to him, tell him he was good. 

“Watch your teeth,” Evander said, voice strained as he started to thrust into Matteo’s mouth. 

He wasn’t rough. If anything, he was almost too gentle, pushing himself just deep enough to hear Matteo gag, before pulling back. Matteo curled his tongue along the underside of his cock, earning a low throaty groan from Evander. 

Matteo squeezed his aching thighs together, trying to get some relief. His ass still stung, made worse from the hair on his calves, pressing against the abused flesh. He whined, tears forming in his eyes as he looked up at Evander. His pupils were blown wide, his jaw tense. He looked at Matteo like he was contemplating absolutely wrecking him. 

Or maybe it was just wishful thinking. 

Evander growled, hips working faster, thrusting deep enough to cut off Matteo’s air supply, holding him there until tears streamed down his face and his ears started to ring. Matteo’s nails dug into his thighs, throat convulsing as he whined in distress. 

“Fuck, you look so good choking on my cock like this.” He tightened the hand on his throat. “I can feel myself right here.” Matteo whimpered at the thought. “I wish you knew how many times I pictured you on your knees for me like this, letting me use you. You feel incredible.” 

There was no way he looked good. Saliva dripped down his chin, tears streamed down his cheeks. His nose was starting to run. But still he didn’t tap out. Just when his vision started to tunnel, Evander pulled free, air rushing back into Matteo’s lungs. 

He let his head fall onto Evander’s thigh, his whole body humming like a live wire. Evander took his thumb, wiping it across Matteo’s messy chin, pushing his thumb past his swollen, tingling lips. Matteo sucked it without thought. 

“Good boy,” Evander murmured, looking at him in a way no other person ever had. Looking at him like he saw him, like he was worthy. “You’re doing so well. Ready?”

Matteo lifted his head, nodding, placing Evander’s hand back on his head, giving him a pouty look until he chuckled breathlessly. Matteo let Evander guide him back. This time he didn’t even build up to it. He rolled his hips, fucking deep into Matteo’s throat, seemingly relishing in every wet gag and desperate whine. 

“That’s it, just let me use you.” Evander’s voice sounded far away, a little strained, like he was fighting to keep from coming too soon. 

Because of Matteo. Matteo was the one making him feel good. Matteo was the one who had him breathing heavy, thighs tensing, gaze glued to his as he choked him on his dick. It shouldn’t have been so hot. 

Matteo was crying, his throat straining, a mess of tears and snot and sweat yet Evander was looking at him like he was the prettiest boy he’d ever seen. Maybe he really thought that. Maybe. 

It made Matteo want to do well. Made him want to be good for him. 

“Fuck, I’m close,” Evander panted. “Swallow for me.” 

Matteo moaned desperately, breathing heavily through his nose as Evander fucked his mouth. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Evander chanted a moment before he flooded Matteo’s mouth. 

His release was bitter on his tongue, spilled from the corners of his mouth. Evander held him in place, cock firmly in his throat, cutting off his air supply as he seemed to work through his orgasm. 

“Messy boy,” Evander said, chest heaving. He pulled his spent cock free. “Show me.” 

Matteo opened his mouth, showing him his release sitting on his tongue. 

The possessive look that contorted Evander’s usually blank features made Matteo remember his own neglected cock. Evander’s growl rolled through him like a heat wave. “Swallow.” 

Matteo gulped it down, keeping his eyes locked on Evander’s, then opening his mouth again to show him. 

“That’s my good boy.” 

Matteo’s breath punched from him at his words. He was sure it was all part of the play but Matteo pretended it was true. 

As soon as he released his chin, Matteo collapsed, once more resting his cheek on Evander’s thigh, sucking in breaths.  

Evander stood, scooping him up like he weighed nothing, then laying him down on the bed. His arm slipped beneath Matteo’s shoulders, gathering him close. At first he thought he was just cuddling him, but then he spit in his palm, his hand wrapping around Matteo’s throbbing cock. 

He cried out, hips bucking upwards. He’d been hard for so long, that the slightest touch had his whole body jerking. 

“Wha’s? I—” 

“You can come whenever you want,” Evander said, cutting him off.  

Matteo’s eyes rolled back, a near euphoric feeling rolling through him as Evander jerked him with intent, fist twisting on every upstroke. The spit on his skin dried quickly, leaving it tacky as Evander worked him, pain warring with the searing pleasure building in his gut. Matteo bent his knee, thrusting desperately into Evander’s fist, high-pitched needy sounds spilling from his mouth with every clever stroke. 

“I’m gonna come. Please can I come?” he babbled. “Please, please, please. Please let me.” 

When he opened his eyes again, Evander was watching him intently.  “You can come, baby.”

He couldn’t even be embarrassed by the sob that escaped. He was too far gone, too close to coming. “Evander…” he said, voice sounding unsure, like he’d never gotten off before. 

Evander dipped his head, nosing at his jaw. “Come on, pretty boy. I wanna see it.” 

“I–I can’t…” Matteo didn’t even know what he was saying, his brain had been wiped clean, reset to factory settings.  

Heat bubbled within him, his limbs heavy, his breaths coming in panting gasps. “I need…Hurts,” he heard himself say. “Need to come.” 

“Then do it,” Evander said, sucking a mark into the spot just beneath his chin. “Now.” 

Two more strokes and his orgasm punched from him, his whole body tensing as he came, spilling over Evander’s tightened fist. Pleasure splintering his already fractured brain further.

Evander continued to work him through his orgasm until he curled in on himself, wincing from oversensitivity. 

He tried to roll away from Evander but he tightened his grip. “Uh-uh. You’re staying right where you are. Don’t move.” 

“‘Kay,” Matteo mumbled, something settling painfully heavy in his chest. 

“Be right back,” Evander said, sliding his arm out from under him. 

He felt the bed dip as he left Matteo on the bed all alone, padding naked across the room. He returned with a wet wash cloth, cleaning off Matteo’s belly while he just laid there. Once Evander rid himself of the cloth, he returned to Matteo, gathering him into his arms. 

“Tighter,” Matteo begged, feeling cracked open. 

Evander complied, tightening his grip until Matteo’s anxiety eased. He pressed his face into Matteo’s neck, pressing kisses against his sweaty skin. 

“Was I good?” The question slipped out small and wrecked before he could stop it.

He waited for Evander to tease him, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned his face toward his, continuing to press kisses to whatever skin he found. His forehead, his cheeks, his nose, his jaw. “So good. You did so good for me, baby. You’re perfect. I knew you would be.”

Matteo had never felt so unsure of anything in his life. “Promise?” 

Evander nodded against him. “I promise. You were made for this.” 

Made for this…

Made for him? 

Made for Evander… 

Cal had been right. He’d only been there a little over a week and he was already hopelessly head over heels. This was a disaster. The high he’d been riding seemed to have reached its peak. He felt like he was at the tippy top of a rollercoaster, about to plunge into the abyss too far, too fast. 

Would Evander pull him back up or just let him plummet?