Learning Curve - Disciplinary Action #2 - ch. 12 (Patreon)

Unbeta'd/Unedited. A bit of a post-scene unraveling for both of them.

Evander

Evander absently combed his fingers through Matteo’s sweaty tresses, his thoughts racing as fast as his heart. He could feel the heat of his cheek and the warmth of his tears on his chest. His skin felt damp where Matteo was pressed against him, the air heavy with sweat, salt, and the lingering scent of soap. Evander wasn’t someone who experienced fear very often, but this tightness in his chest felt like fear, or something adjacent to it, anyway. He’d screwed up—big time—and he had no idea what to do with that knowledge.

He’d convinced himself he was in control, that he held all the cards. He’d decided that Matteo was spoiled and selfish and in need of a firm hand. That he needed discipline…drive…accountability. That he needed Evander. But he’d been wrong. And he was never wrong.

Fuck.

He could practically hear Baxter and Julian mocking him and his ridiculous plan to humble Matteo. It wasn’t Matteo who needed humbling. It was Evander. Evander and his ridiculous superiority complex that had tricked him into thinking he was in any way capable of controlling himself around Matteo. He’d been Evander’s achilles heel since they were children. He’d been under Matteo’s spell almost his entire life.

Even the years they were apart.

Evander tightened his grip on Matteo, tugging him closer, stomach tightening when he clung harder, like he was afraid if he let go Evander might disappear. The movement wasn't deliberate. It felt instinctive. Unconscious. Like Matteo had simply burrowed toward the nearest source of safety and latched on. How many times had he clung to Evander like that after a nightmare when they were kids?

He wouldn’t leave Matteo. He didn’t want to leave him. That was the real problem. This was supposed to be a scene, a game, two people on a level playing field exchanging power dynamics. That was how this was meant to go. Evander knew that and he’d decided to ignore all of it to get him what he wanted.

Well, what he’d thought he wanted.

Evander had betrayed the basic tenants of this kind of play under the guise of fixing Matteo, training him, forcing him into a corner and then watching him earn his way out. Matteo was supposed to be this spoiled, pretentious menace who lacked discipline. This unrepentant sinner in need of saving.

Instead, he was this vulnerable open wound, desperate for someone to love him, heal him. Desperate for Evander to heal him, fix him, put him back together like that bowl he’d bought that afternoon. Desperate enough that he'd handed Evander everything he needed to cut him, trusting him not to go too deep. For the first time in his life, Evander had no idea what to do. He wanted Matteo. He wanted him as a sub as much as he wanted him as a husband, but suddenly nothing about this felt right.

He dropped a kiss on the top of Matteo’s hair, trying to steady himself. The strands were still damp beneath his lips. Matteo was too vulnerable for any deep conversation, any talk of their future. He was still coming down and Evander needed to take care of his physical needs as well as his emotional ones. The trembling had mostly stopped, but every so often Matteo would shiver against him for no apparent reason, fingers flexing weakly before settling again.

Matteo had done so well for him, he’d looked so beautiful. He’d expected push-back, arguments, sarcasm, tantrums, but Matteo hadn’t done any of that. Sure, he’d been a little mouthy, a little bratty, but in a way that excited Evander, in a way that told him Matteo would push boundaries with him in an attempt to get more attention. Not because he craved conflict, but because he'd learned that negative attention might lead to his own pleasure. 

Even lying about his journal? 

Or was that about something else entirely. Matteo had done something for someone else today, but why wasn’t he trying to take the credit? Why had he hidden it at all? Maybe he'd done it because he'd wanted to. Because he thought nobody was watching. Had he just assumed Matteo was selfish? 

The thought lodged somewhere beneath Evander’s ribs and stayed there.

He could worry about that later. He’d given Matteo his first real taste of what domestic discipline entailed. They needed to debrief, to discuss what had happened, how Matteo felt about it…but not now. Not until Evander got some carbs in him, something to settle his flooded nervous system.

But that was easier said than done. Every time he tried to get up, Matteo clung harder. The raw pleading in his gaze had Evander second guessing his own training. He needed to take care of him physically before he could take care of him emotionally or both would crash catastrophically like two trains colliding.

“Don’t,” Matteo begged. “Don’t go.”

The words came out rough and broken, his fingers tightening in Evander’s shirt hard enough to wrinkle the fabric.

Evander cupped his face, forcing him to meet his eyes. “You’ve been so good for me tonight. Can you keep being good just a little bit longer?”

A myriad of expressions crossed his face in seconds, confusion, hurt, fear, distrust. Need. But he nodded anyway, letting go of Evander’s arm like it physically pained him to do so.

Evander ran his thumb along his cheek. “Good boy.”

Matteo’s lashes fluttered at the phrase, stirring something deep in Evander’s core. He was so beautiful, so…sweet when he wanted to be. He was like an abused pet, wary but desperate for affection. And Evander had used that to his advantage, whether he’d known it or not.

No. Not whether he'd known it. He had known it. Maybe not consciously, but he'd known Matteo craved approval. Craved praise. Craved someone to tell him he was worth keeping.

He’d worry about that later.

It only took a moment or two for him to gather what he needed, but when he returned Matteo was in tears once more. It wasn’t unusual. Sub drop could hit hard after an emotional scene, especially for someone with as much baggage as Matteo carried. Still, something heavy settled in Evander’s chest. He returned to the bed, pulling Matteo sideways across his lap, draping his legs over his thigh.

“Drink,” he said, opening the cap on the bottle of electrolytes, then holding it to his lips. “All of it.”

Matteo did as he was told without a fuss but looked miserable. His eyes were glassy, cheeks pink from crying, his body seeming to sag further against Evander with every swallow. When he finished, he set it on the side table, then fed him the fruit and sweets he’d set aside after dinner.

He managed to get a few grapes and two cookies in him, before Matteo shook his head, mumbling, “I’ll throw up.”

“Okay,” Evander said, gathering him close.

Matteo curled inwards, making himself small against him, triggering something foreign inside him. This…need to protect Matteo from the world, to be the only person who saw him this way. He’d planned to break him down and build him back up stronger, but now he wanted to keep him just like this. Small and needy and entirely dependent on him.

The realization should have alarmed him. Instead it settled over him with disturbing ease.

Perhaps he was a psychopath? He sighed at the notion. Would knowing change anything? Probably not. He shifted his focus back to the boy in his arms. Evander squeezed the back of Matteo’s neck, cock twitching at the low whine it caused.

Even now, wrung out and exhausted, Matteo leaned into the touch. Not because it turned him on. Because it comforted him. Because, despite everything, he somehow associated Evander's hands with safety.

The thought made Evander feel vaguely ill. He didn’t deserve that. He pressed his lips to the top of Matteo’s head once more. His hair smelled faintly of his shampoo and sweat, the scent now hopelessly tangled together.

“How do you feel?”

Evander expected any number of responses. Tired. Sore. Sad. Confused. Horny. Clingy.

He was prepared for all of them…except one.

Matteo burst into tears again.

Not the pretty tears from earlier, but deep wracking sobs that stole his breath and contorted his face until he hid it in Evander’s neck. His skin was scalding against Evander’s. 

Fuck.

Matteo was dropping too fast. Evander held him tighter. “Hey, what’s happening right now?” he asked gently. “Can you tell me?”

His hand slid up and down Matteo’s back in slow, steady passes, trying to anchor him to the present.

Had Evander pushed him too far? Had he ruined everything already? He’d known it might be too much for him, that there was always a chance that Matteo would hate this. It wasn’t for everyone. Hell, it wasn’t for most people. He’d just hoped…

He waited for Matteo to tell him he never wanted to do this again. That Evander was a monster. A freak. That he’d broken something inside him that he couldn’t fix.

Instead, he wailed, “I miss my cat.”

Evander froze, brows knitting together. Had he heard him right? “What?”

“She’s probably dead,” he managed between sobs.

Evander’s heart twisted in his chest. “Your cat?”

Matteo nodded. “My dad kicked me out but I couldn’t take her with me and now she’s probably dead. He definitely sent her to a shelter, one that kills cats. She’s too old and she has teeth missing and she snores. She’s not some cute little kitten. Nobody would have adopted her and now she’s probably dead.”

His words were so distorted from his grief that Evander had to concentrate to understand him. Each sentence seemed to make him cry harder, like speaking the fear aloud had made it real. He wasn’t sure what to say. Matteo’s father was a fucking monster, no doubt. He’d treated his own son like a punching bag, who knew what he might do to some defenseless animal.

“Shh,” Evander soothed, gently petting him as he sobbed against his chest.

He didn’t try to placate him or tell him he was overreacting. He was dropping and he was heartbroken. Carbs could only do so much. The emotional fallout from the first scene was usually the heaviest. All the walls people used to hold themselves together suddenly became paper thin. Small hurts became devastating ones. Old wounds split open. Grief came flooding back in all the places they'd been trying not to look.

He pressed his lips to the top of Matteo’s head, letting him cry it out while he made a mental note to find out just what happened to Matteo’s cat. What was her name? Baby? Evander had always thought it was such a silly name for a cat and surprisingly soft considering Matteo was such a little bully back then.

Then again, maybe Matteo had never been nearly as hard as Evander had convinced himself he was. In the early days, he’d saved his bullying just for Evander, who always found it kind of cute. This dark haired little boy, doing his best to boss around someone older. 

By the time Matteo’s tears had dried, his face was red, his eyes swollen, his nose clearly stuffed up. Evander wiped at his nose with a tissue, but didn’t speak until Matteo muttered, “Sorry.”

The apology sounded automatic. Reflexive. Like he'd spent years apologizing for things that weren't his fault.

Evander gave a soft laugh, holding him tighter, more for his benefit than Matteo’s. “Don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Matteo sniffled. “I don’t know what happened,” he said, sounding dazed.

“Subdrop. The high you were riding during your punishment just crashed. It’s not always this intense but if you didn’t like what we d—”

“I didn’t say that,” Matteo blurted, cutting him off.

The words came fast, almost panicked.

At Evander’s bemused expression, he sagged back against him again, mumbling quietly, “I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Evander’s chest lightened. Relief moved through him so sharply he almost laughed. He rested his chin on Matteo’s head. “So you did like it?”

The question came out softer than he'd intended. More vulnerable.

Did he sound too hopeful?

Matteo hesitated. “I think so. It hurt. But then everything got…hazy. I don’t know how to explain it. I was there but not. After a while, the pain didn’t register the same way…I anticipated it. I wanted more. I wanted to do well…for you.”

The last two words came out quieter than the rest, his gaze dropping to where their hands rested together.

“You did so well. You far exceeded my expectations.”

“I doubt your expectations were very high,” Matteo muttered.

The joke landed flat. Not because it wasn't funny, but because there was too much truth hiding beneath it.

“I’m sorry if I pushed you too far,” Evander heard himself say.

Matteo’s head jerked upwards so hard Evander’s teeth clacked together. 

He looked as surprised as Evander felt. Evander didn’t apologize for things. Mostly because he was rarely sorry. He rarely acted without thinking things through and he always trusted his gut. But his thinking and judgment had been clouded around Matteo since they were children.

“I was being a brat,” Matteo said softly.

“That’s your job,” he said. “My job is to know your limits. I should have worked up to what we did tonight. I…lost my head. Having you like this…”

He let himself trail off, unsure of how to put his thoughts into any cohesive sentence.

How was he supposed to explain that he'd spent half his life imagining Matteo like this and the reality had somehow been so much more than he could have ever imagined? 

More dangerous.

“Having me like this…what?” Matteo pushed, eyes pleading.

“I’ve anticipated this for so long, I lost control a bit,” he admitted begrudgingly.

Matteo giggled, then sniffled.

Evander’s lips quirked in a curious smile. “What?”

Matteo shrugged. “You don’t seem like the type to admit you lost control.”

Evander laughed self-consciously, unsure why he was showing his hand so early but refusing to question his own instincts. “To be fair, it’s never happened before. But you’ve always been the exception to every rule. You’ve known how to push my buttons since we were little kids,” Evander admitted.

Why was he being so honest? Maybe because Matteo was letting himself be vulnerable.

“Your buttons were the most fun to push,” Matteo admitted with a soft smile, rubbing his cheek against Evander’s chest in a gesture that had his stomach swooping dangerously. “Everyone else ignored me. You never did. Not even when I deserved it. Especially not when I deserved it. It used to piss me off that you never lashed out, never seemed to lose your temper no matter how much I tormented you.”

His smile faded slightly. “Honestly, I think I hated that most.”

Evander frowned. “Why?”

Matteo was quiet for so long Evander thought he might not answer. “Because if you'd gotten mad, it would have meant I won.” He swallowed. “Instead, you just kept being nice to me. And every time you were nice, I felt worse.”

The confession settled heavily between them.

“I saw what he did to you,” Evander admitted, fingers tangling in Matteo’s hair once more. “It was hard to be mad at you when I knew you were doing everything you could to get someone to see you.”

Matteo laughed weakly. “Well, mission accomplished, I guess.” The laugh didn't reach his eyes. “Pretty pathetic, huh,” Matteo muttered.

Evander just kissed his head again, knowing even if he denied it, Matteo wouldn’t believe him.

They fell silent for a bit, Evander playing with Matteo’s tresses and Matteo absently tracing Evander’s free hand where it rested against Matteo’s bare thigh. The repetitive motion seemed to soothe him. Every so often his fingertips would pause over Evander’s knuckles before continuing their slow path across his skin.

After a while, he asked, “Do you think I would have been a good person if my mom had taken me with her?”

The question hit harder than Evander expected. Not because of what Matteo asked. Because of the hope buried underneath it. 

Evander sighed. “You’re not a bad person. If anything, I think you’re a really soft-hearted person who did everything he could to survive in an environment that vilified caring about others.”

Matteo blinked rapidly.

“You’re not even a quarter way through your life. You can be whoever you want to be.” He squeezed the hand resting against Matteo’s thigh. “I’ll help you.”

For a moment Matteo just stared at him. Like nobody had ever offered him that before. Like the concept itself was foreign. Then, very quietly, he whispered, “Why?”

The question hurt more than it should have. He didn't think Matteo was ready for that answer so he didn't answer. Evander remembered the empty diary entry. Should he ask? Was it too soon? Would it set him off again?

“Why did you lie in your diary entry today?” he murmured.

Matteo stiffened, then went lax. “Of course, you’re having me followed.”

Evander chuckled. “You really didn’t read the contract, did you?”

Matteo shrugged. “Why bother? I wasn’t going to say no, no matter what you made me do.”

The casual way he said it made something twist unpleasantly in Evander's stomach. Matteo was nothing if not stubborn.

“Are you going to answer the question?” Evander pushed, keeping his voice level.

“What question?” he deadpanned, giving him a blank look.

“Matteo,” Evander warned.

Matteo sighed. “I didn’t write it because it felt…exploitative.”

Evander’s brows went up. “Exploitative?”

Matteo nodded. “The man today…he did everything right and one incident ruined his whole life. I know what that’s like now. Having to beg for help. Having to deal with people looking at you like you deserve whatever bad thing happened to you. Only in my case, I did deserve it, but he didn’t. He was nice to me even though I probably looked like an entitled douche. He kind of made me think of Cal.”

The name rang a bell.

“Cal?” Evander asked, hating the edge of jealousy in his tone.

Matteo’s gaze flicked upwards for a moment, seemingly satisfied at Evander’s ire. “The kid I punched. Well, the one that actually had consequences anyway. I got into a lot of fights with a lot of people. I was a jerk.”

Cal. Callum Whyte. Matteo's childhood friend?

“Wait, the kid you got into a fight with was Callum Whyte,” Evander asked. “You were friends? He used to come to your house all the time. His father was the one who swindled all those rich assholes out of their money.”

He knew the vague details. Matteo got into a physical altercation with a classmate over the ivy scandal at their school and the boy’s dog got hit by a car trying to protect the classmate. He’d looked into the details but hadn’t put two and two together until just now. In the grand scheme of things, it was just Matteo being Matteo. He and his rich school friends had made headlines all the time back then. He, like most teens, had documented every second of his life on social media. 

But only one had landed him legal hot water. He hadn’t realized the boy was Callum Whyte. He’d been friends with Matteo for years. Was that why the case had resulted in an actual consequence for Matteo?

“Why did this man today remind you of Cal?” he asked, fighting to keep his tone neutral.

“I’ll tell you but you’ll think even less of me than you already do,” Matteo said, picking up Evander’s hand to play with his fingers.

He wouldn't meet his eyes. Instead he focused on Evander's hand like it required his full concentration.

“I don’t think badly of you. I never have. That’s the problem,” Evander admitted. “I have always known you’re capable of being a good person.”

Matteo huffed out a humorless laugh.

“You won’t think so after what I did to Cal,” he said, the certainty in his voice unshakable.

Not defensive. Not challenging. Certain. Like this was a fact he'd repeated to himself so many times he'd stopped questioning it.

“Try me.”

“You’re right. Cal and I were friends. Both on the Lacrosse team. We partied together. Hung out pretty much every day. We were definitely in the same social circles. We even made out once after prom. But he was out and I wasn’t.”

Evander’s jaw clenched at that piece of knowledge but he remained quiet.

“When Cal’s dad was arrested for fraud and a bunch of other stuff, Cal had no other family. Their assets were frozen, his house seized, everything. The whole school turned on him…Even me.” Matteo’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Especially me.”

His fingers stopped moving.  "Why?"

For a long moment he just stared at their joined hands. “In a way, I was protecting myself. That's what I told myself anyway.” The words came out barely above a whisper. 

Evander felt Matteo curl inward slightly, shoulders drawing in toward his chest. Shame. Raw and ugly.

“I started laughing when people made jokes. Then I started making my own.” He swallowed hard. “The worse things got for him, the meaner I got.”

“His dad was in jail. His life was falling apart. People were treating him like garbage and I knew exactly how scared he was because I was supposed to be his friend. We were all supposed to be his friends.” His voice cracked. “But every time I saw him, all I could think about was my father finding out I liked boys, too.”

The room felt very quiet.

“He needed someone in his corner but that wasn’t me.” Matteo laughed softly. The sound was awful. “The only one who stuck by him was Bastian. He was the only scholarship student in our school. On the lacrosse team too. We weren’t really mean to him until he started helping Cal.” 

He shook his head, like he was disgusted with himself.

“When I saw that guy today, still working, still trying, looking embarrassed every time someone looked at him like he was nothing, I just...” He squeezed Evander’s fingers. “I remembered laughing when Micah spit on him. The look on Cal’s face…like it was the last straw. It made my blood run cold. I actually thought he might hurt himself. And you know what I did…nothing.”

His eyes squeezed shut. “I made it about myself.”

Evander’s chest ached. That wasn't the story of a spoiled rich kid. It was the story of a terrified, abused teenager sacrificing someone he cared about to survive. A cowardly choice. A selfish one. But not a malicious one exactly. And the fact that Matteo still looked sick over it years later told Evander everything he needed to know. Or maybe he was just blind to Matteo’s flaws. 

“I didn't write about the man because it felt gross,” Matteo finished quietly. “Like helping him only counted if I got points for it afterward.” He rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Cal deserved better than what I gave him. That guy deserved help whether anyone knew about it or not.”

The words settled heavily between them.

And for the first time, Evander wondered if Matteo's biggest problem had never been selfishness at all. Maybe it was guilt.

“Why?” Evander asked. “Why did the school turn on Cal?” 

“Because our parents told us to. They said he deserved it, that he had no business being able to attend school with tuition paid with their stolen money. The homophobic shit ramped up too and I was afraid if I didn’t go along with it, that if Cal outed me, people would believe him. You know how my dad feels about gay people. And my father and grandfather hated Cal’s dad, well, they did now. He’d broken the cardinal rule of the elite. You can cheat anyone…except them.”

His voice had gone flat, detached in the way people sounded when recounting something they'd spent years trying not to think about.

Evander huffed out something akin to a laugh. That sounded like Matteo’s family for sure. They had no right to call out anyone over cheating the system. There was nothing that the Koch family or the Cruz family had that hadn’t been acquired by ill gotten means. They were criminals just like any other old money family. They just cheated the poor and the working class to keep hoarding their wealth at the top.

“What happened to Cal?” Evander asked. “After that day?” 

Matteo’s jaw tightened and for a second Evander thought he might cry again.

“He's diabetic. It wasn’t a secret. We all saw his pump. He had to remove it during practice and games. We didn’t really know what it meant though. We didn’t know how expensive his meds were. I guess he’s really sensitive. When the board forced Bastian’s mom to kick Cal out of their house, he ended up on the street without his meds and he almost died.”

The words seemed to scrape on the way out. Matteo’s breathing was heavy, he stared down at Evander’s hand that he held, jaw tense.

“He was in the hospital for weeks. Even then, I was still a dick to him. I didn’t know that my grandfather accused him of cheating on his SATs or that he got Harvard to take away his scholarship. I was the cheater. I was the one who had been handed every conceivable advantage. The irony is, I didn’t even want to go to college. I was relieved when they revoked my college acceptance—can you imagine my dumb ass in an ivy league school? It would have been a daily humiliation ritual.”

His words were a gut punch. 

“That’s not true,” Evander said.

“It is. I accepted I was stupid a long time ago. It was my family that wouldn’t accept it. My dad threatened to cut me off, called me names, slapped me around. Told me I’d be just as homeless as Cal if it wasn’t for them. That’s why I did what I did. I wasn’t mad at Cal, I was mad at myself. I definitely didn’t mean for his dog to get hurt.”

The last sentence cracked.

He wasn't crying, but after all these years, he still sounded devastated by it.

“Matteo.” Evander tightened his fingers around his. “You’re not stupid.”

Matteo rolled his eyes immediately. “See? That's exactly what I'm talking about. Everyone always says that because they feel bad for me.”

“No. People say that because it’s true.”

Matteo made a skeptical noise.

Evander continued anyway. “You have a learning disability. Dyscalculia is a real thing. It requires treatment. Your dad was just too lazy to invest in helping you. It was easier to just cheat the system and convince you that you’re too stupid to learn.” 

“How-How do you know that?” Matteo asked. 

“I heard our moms talking about it when you got your diagnosis. She wanted to look into therapists to help you but your fatherpushed back. They fought about it. None of that makes you stupid.” He meant it. “Your father thought intelligence was only measured in grades and test scores. That makes him an idiot, not you. Unless you choose to believe it.”

The words landed with enough force that Matteo visibly flinched. Evander immediately regretted it. Not because it wasn't true. Because of the pain that flashed across Matteo's face.

“Did you ever apologize to Cal?” he asked, gently changing the subject.

Matteo gave a self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah, when I finally needed something from him. Who do you think went through the contract with me?”

“He helped you with the contract? Our contract?” Evander asked.

Something unpleasant curled in his stomach.

“He’s in law school. It’s not like I could hire a lawyer and I didn’t know if I could trust you to give me a lawyer who would be honest with me.”

“Mm,” Evander said, unsure how he felt about this rekindled friendship with someone who’d once had his tongue down Matteo’s throat.

The jealousy was irrational. Petty. And deeply embarrassing. Callum had every reason on earth to tell Matteo to fuck off. Instead he'd answered the phone. Helped him. Protected him. While Evander had been busy drafting a contract designed to teach Matteo a lesson.

The comparison stung more than Evander cared to admit. Especially because Callum had apparently been the better man.

“He didn’t even hesitate to help me. He could have told me to fuck off and I wouldn’t have blamed him. He even offered to give me money so I didn’t have to sign your contract.”

“I see,” Evander said tersely.

Matteo’s lips twitched. “You sound jealous.”

“Don’t push my buttons, hatchling,” Evander said, tightening his fingers in his hair, watching the way Matteo’s lips parted and his eyes rolled back. Even exhausted and emotionally wrung out, the response was immediate. Trusting.

“Would you feel better if I told you he lives with his very sexy, very rich husband…our former headmaster.”

Did he have to throw in sexy? “You can’t be serious.”

Matteo nodded. “I don’t know all the details, but I guess Gideon took him in when they found Cal half-dead on the street. Gideon’s phone number was the only one in Cal’s cheap burner phone. They fell in love or whatever. Now they live in a swanky apartment with a bunch of animals. Oh, and they’re big into BDSM. Which is why he low-key thinks you’re a psychopath.”

“Does he?”

“Uh-huh. Like I said, he offered me money just so I didn’t have to fall into your evil clutches.”

“So why didn’t you take it?” Evander asked, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“On some level…curiosity. On another…greed. But I found the idea of sweet, soft-spoken Evander—who used to sneak me cookies when I had nightmares—secretly being a sadistic dom with his own 50 shades style red room too intriguing to ignore.”

The admission hit Evander harder than it should have. Not the greed part. The nightmares. The fact that Matteo remembered.

“Yeah?” he asked, a slow grin spreading across his face.

Matteo nodded then pressed his lips to Evander’s in a brief kiss. Soft. Unhurried. More affectionate than seductive.

Matteo settled against him. “You seem so different now.”

“How?”

Matteo opened his mouth then closed it again.

After a minute, he said, “Maybe I just never knew the real you. I was selfish with you even as a kid. I went out of my way to do things that got you to interact with me. Even getting you in trouble. I just always wanted you around. You and our moms were the only people who were ever nice to me.”

There was no manipulation in the confession. No attempt to charm his way out of anything. Just quiet honesty.

“My mom worried about my obsession with you. She always worried that I’d do something stupid.”

“Like quietly stalk me my whole life then force me into a sexual slavery contract?” Matteo said, his words teasing.

Evander laughed. “I think if my poor mother ever heard you say that about me, she’d die of embarrassment on the spot, but not before she murdered me.”

“Lucky for you the only person I discuss our kinks with is Cal. He thinks I’m in over my head with you.”

Evander wasn't entirely sure he disagreed. Not for the reasons Callum probably thought.

Evander tipped his chin up. “And what do you think?”

Evander’s gut tightened when Matteo admitted, “I think he might be right.”

“Oh.”

The single word came out flatter than he'd intended.

Matteo leaned his head against Evander’s chest. His eyelashes brushed his skin as he settled closer, as though seeking out the steady rhythm of Evander’s heartbeat.

“But I’m willing to risk it.”

“Risk what?”

Matteo shrugged. “Everything.”

The answer stole the air from Evander’s lungs.

Everything. Not the contract. Not the money. Not the scandal. Him. Evander looked down at Matteo curled against him and felt something shift uncomfortably in his chest.

Because Matteo had spent the entire evening handing him pieces of himself. His fears. His regrets. His guilt. His loneliness. And Evander had entered tonight believing he was the one holding all the power.

“You shouldn't,” he said quietly.

Matteo frowned. “Shouldn't what?”

“Risk everything.”

Not on me. He hadn’t earned that. Not even a little. He’d been selfish with Matteo. No better than his family. Still, the words stayed trapped behind his teeth.

Matteo studied him for a moment. “It’s way too late for that now,” His voice was growing sleepy now, exhaustion finally beginning to win. “Are you going to make me go back to my room…like last night?” 

He should. Matteo sleeping with him, in his bed, wasn’t part of the plan. He was going to wait, to make Matteo earn it. But it was too late for that now. 

“No, of course not.” He displaced him from his lap, laying him down on the mattress beside him, before pulling him back against him, making him his little spoon. “Go to sleep.” 

Evander stayed up long after Matteo’s breathing had evened out. For the first time in his life he had absolutely no idea what to do next. It was half past three when he finally buried his face in Matteo’s neck and let sleep take him. 

Everything else was tomorrow Evander’s problem.