Learning Curve - Disciplinary Action #2 - ch. 13 (Patreon)

Unbeta'd/Unedited. I am currently at Writers on the River. I have my biopsy Wednesday. That means I should have results before the end of the month. Whatever they might be.

Matteo

Matteo floated in that cozy limbo between awake and asleep, only vaguely aware of the aches in his body and the heat beneath him. He could feel the sun pouring through the blinds, could see the light behind closed lids. The sheets were warm around him, the room quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the steady heartbeat beneath his ear. He forced his eyes open, sucking in a sharp breath.

He was curled into Evander, head on his muscular chest. His eyes widened at the puddle of drool on Evander’s skin, gaze jerking upwards, relief flooding him when he saw he was still sleeping. Matteo dabbed at the mess with the bed sheet, his face burning with humiliation. That was so not sexy.

When the mess was gone, Matteo propped himself up on one arm, drinking in Evander in his most vulnerable state. His head was tilted slightly to the side, lips parted, his golden blonde hair plastered to his forehead making him look like a little boy. He had long lashes, the same golden color as his hair, casting soft shadows onto his high cheekbones.

It was strange to reconcile that the man before him was the same boy from his childhood. Evander had never been ugly. But puberty hadn’t been kind. He’d had acne, wore thick coke bottle lenses, his teeth were a little crooked and he’d been tall and skinny. So skinny Matteo used to wonder if someone or something kept him from eating like he should.

That old Evander was still in there. Same full lips, same strong jaw, same thick brows and beautiful eyes…those hadn’t changed. The scars from his acne were visible, though faded and hidden by his scruff. This was his Evander. Something tightened in his chest. He was selfish. He knew that. But his whole life he’d always thought of Evander that way. As his.

Maybe that was why watching him sleep felt strangely intimate. There were no carefully chosen words. No sharp wit. No impossible confidence. Just Evander, completely unaware of the way Matteo looked at him, completely unaware of how badly Matteo wanted him, wanted this.

The tables had turned. Now he belonged to Evander. Literally. Contractually. He bit his lower lip as he thought about it. His body ached in ways he couldn’t even begin to describe. Muscles he’d never used before had been engaged, the skin where Evander had spanked him burned with a lingering warmth, reminding him of the previous night every time he shifted his weight. The soreness should have made him wince. Instead it left an odd sense of satisfaction blooming low in his chest.

Was Evander going to work? He was usually gone by now. Should Matteo wake him? He didn’t want to wake him. He wanted to stay like this forever. Just the two of them in their perfect bubble. No outsiders allowed.

He draped his body half over his, nuzzling his face into the crook of Evander’s neck, inhaling his scent. He always smelled so good. Like spice and musk. Something earthy and expensive. Clean skin, cedar, and whatever cologne had long since become synonymous with home. Matteo was addicted.

Evander’s heavy arm landed over him, his palm landing on Matteo’s ass cheek, squeezing appreciatively. The touch was absentminded, almost instinctive, like even asleep Evander sought him out. Matteo’s morning wood was pressed against the groove of Evander’s hip. If he was awake, there was no way he would miss it.

But he wasn’t awake.

He made a sleepy little grumble that did funny things to Matteo's belly, settling them both deeper within the bed, his other hand coming to rest on Matteo's lower back. Matteo’s stomach clenched. He hated how much he loved this. How much he wanted this every single day. Not the money. Not the contract. This. Waking up tangled together with nowhere else to be.

Cal said sexual slavery was fully submitting to your dom in every way, letting them run your entire life. When you ate, when you slept, when you had sex, when you were punished, how you were punished, when you worked out, when you were allowed to see friends...everything.

He’d scoffed at the idea when they’d first discussed Evander’s contract, but now the idea felt…safe. Matteo didn’t make good life choices. He never had. He’d spent so much of his life being his father’s perfect son in public and his worst nightmare in private until he could no longer remember which one was the real him.

Were either of them the real him?

He didn’t know. He didn’t care. He liked how Evander saw him, how Evander looked at him, how he guided him and touched him and how he praised him when he did well and punished him when he needed it. They’d only just started this relationship—arrangement, whatever it was—but Matteo already feared Evander would grow tired of him and realize he wasn’t worth all this effort.

That one day he'd wake up, really look at Matteo, and realize everyone else had been right about him all along. But he didn't want to think about that. He nestled deeper into Evander's throat, letting his scent soothe him.

He must have drifted off, because the sound of a slamming door brought him back to consciousness, his head jerking upwards off Evander’s chest, happy to see it was dry this time.

“Wha’” Evander mumbled.

“I don’t know,” Matteo said, voice hoarse from sleep.

He rolled off him and into a sitting position just as the bedroom door flew open. An eccentrically dressed man barged in, Julian Fairchild hot on his heels. He carried something that looked like a newspaper under his arm.

The two had been with Evander the day Matteo had pretended to bump into him outside his office. He didn’t recognize the well-dressed man, but there were very few people who wouldn’t recognize Julian Fairchild. His mother was Hollywood royalty.

Evander sat up, scowling when he saw Matteo fully exposed, throwing the covers over his lower half before turning that scowl on the intruders. The first man stopped short when he realized they were naked. Julian slammed into the other man’s back hard enough that he had to grip his hips to keep both of them on their feet.

For one spectacularly awkward second, nobody spoke.

Evander sighed heavily, then stood, padding naked to his dresser where he grabbed a pair of athletic shorts, shoving his legs into them before pulling them up and crossing his arms over his chest. He somehow looked sexy even with his hair standing on end in the back and plastered to his forehead in the front.

Matteo was so fucked. Not because he'd been caught naked. Because even looking like he'd just crawled out of bed, Evander somehow radiated authority.

“What could possibly be urgent enough for you to come barging into my home at this ungodly hour?” Evander asked.

“Ungodly hour? It’s 9:30 in the morning. You were supposed to be at the office two hours ago.”

Evander gave him a blank stare. “And you thought that warranted banging down my door—my bedroom door—without invitation?”

“Call it a welfare check,” the man snapped. “I was worried this one might have—” He ran a thumb across his own neck in a threatening gesture. “—you.”

Matteo made an indignant sound. “Me?”

The man ignored Matteo, focusing only on Evander.

Evander’s lips twitched like he was actively trying not to laugh, making Matteo feel even more disgruntled. 

Evander turned his attention to Julian, like he might find him more reasonable. “Why are you actually here?”

“Don’t look at him. Look at me. I’m the one who’s been up doing damage control since the papers hit the newsstands. Do you know what time that happens, Evander? Do you?” the man asked, tone prissy.

Evander rubbed a hand down his face, looking profoundly unimpressed.

“Who is he?” Matteo asked Evander.

Evander huffed out a laugh then wandered back to the bed, settling beside him. “Matteo, meet my publicist, Baxter. I’m sure you know my business partner, Julian.”

Matteo gave a hesitant nod.

“Shall we talk out there,” Evander asked. To Matteo, he said, “Go back to sleep.”

“No, don’t,” Baxter said. “This concerns you, too.”

Matteo frowned. “Me?” he squeaked again, hating how childish he sounded.

Evander narrowed his gaze at the two other men, then turned to Matteo. “Get dressed and meet us out there.”

“My clothes are…” he gestured vaguely towards the door.

“Just find something in my drawers that fit you,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Matteo dropped his gaze to his lap, nodding. The simple command settled over him like a warm blanket. No yelling. No insults. No threats. Just quiet certainty that Matteo would listen.

Only when he was alone, did he slip from beneath the covers. He looked at his pile of neatly stacked clothes from the night before but then dismissed them. He went straight to Evander’s workout clothes, dragging on gray joggers and an olive zip front hoodie. The sweatshirt hung off one shoulder, the sleeves swallowing his hands. It smelled like Evander, clean cotton and cedar, grounding some of the unease twisting in his stomach. The sound of raised voices had his heart pumping.

“…told you this is bad. You never listen,” Baxter was saying.

When he entered the living room, he saw the three standing in the concrete colored kitchen. He reluctantly crossed the room to join them. 

“Will you please get to the point?” Evander said, pulling Matteo to him when he was close enough.

Evander’s chest was warm against Matteo’s back. His strong arms wrapped around Matteo’s waist. The embrace was casual enough that Baxter probably saw nothing more than a possessive boyfriend. Matteo felt something entirely different. Steady. Protective. Baxter looked like he wanted to swallow his tongue when Matteo melted against him. 

Matteo didn’t care about this Baxter guy, but he kept a watchful eye on Julian. He still wasn’t sure there was nothing between Evander and him.

“This,” Julian said.

He tossed the newspaper on the counter with enough force to send it sliding, almost landing in the sink. When it stopped, Matteo leaned forward, reading the large, black block letters.

BILLIONAIRE’S TOY OR BILLIONAIRE TOY?

Fallen Koch Heir Allegedly Hunted Down Former Housekeeper’s Newly Wealthy Son After Family Disowned Him.

Matteo’s heart jackrabbitted in his chest. 

Fuck. 

“What about it?” Evander asked, tone bored.

Baxter made a strangled sound. “What about it? This article makes you look like a cuck. A nerd in love with his former bully and letting him bleed you dry.”

“Is that what it says?” Matteo gasped.

Baxter glared at him. “Why are you acting so shocked? Is that not what you’re doing?”

“Me?” Matteo gasped. “He wrote the contract. I just signed it,” he reminded him indignantly.

“Right…” he muttered. “We all know you engineered that meeting to sucker him into financing your life.”

Matteo flushed. “Okay, fair. Initially. But that’s not what this is. Not anymore.”

Evander’s arms tightened around Matteo’s waist. Not in any way that would be obvious to the others—just a subtle squeeze beneath the oversized hoodie—but it did something to Matteo’s insides, making him feel like it was them against Baxter and Julian. He wasn’t in this alone.

“What exactly does it say?” Evander asked.

“It says,” Baxter seethed. “That Matteo enlisted the help of a friend to track you down to trick you into marriage now that he’s been completely cut off from his family.”

“Fucking Micah,” Matteo muttered.

“So you admit it!” Baxter cried like he was some kind of detective in a whodunit. “You admit that you targeted Evander after realizing he was rich.”

“Uh, yeah?” Matteo said. “He already knows that.” Matteo craned his neck around to look at Evander. “Right?”

Evander nodded blandly. “Of course,” he said. “You’re a terrible actor.”

Matteo elbowed him softly. “I’ll have you know I starred in not one but two school plays in elementary school.”

“Oh, I know. I was there,” Evander said lightly. “You were terrible.”

Matteo’s heart flip-flopped, a small smile playing at his lips. “Oh, that’s right. You were.”

He gave a soft sigh that had Julian looking like he might puke and Baxter looking like he might cause Matteo physical harm.

“Is this funny to you?” he cried. “The board is freaking the fuck out. They could vote to kick you out of your own company. We only went public a month ago.”

“Calm down,” Julian told Baxter, squeezing his shoulder. “You’re going to give yourself wrinkles.”

Matteo watched Baxter’s shoulders loosen. Were they a thing? They seemed like an odd couple, but a striking one. Interesting. He made a mental note to ask Evander about it later.

“Why are you acting like this is new information?” Evander asked the two men. “I told you Matteo’s plan the day I ran into him outside my office.”

Matteo craned his neck to look back at him. “You did?” 

Evander nodded. “I told you, hatchling. You’re a terrible liar.” 

Something eased deep in his core. Evander knew the worst of him and kept him anyway. 

“What do you want me to do to fix this?” Matteo asked Baxter.

“You? I think you’ve done enough,” Baxter shot back.

Matteo scoffed. “You can keep snarling at me if you want, but I’m the only one who can fix it and you know it. Nothing you or Evander say will make me look any less like a villain. Your job is to cover Evander’s ass and if he says he is in love he’ll look even more like a fool than he did before he said anything. I’m the only one who can prove that this is a love match.”

Evander’s hand gave his hip a small squeeze, a silent warning not to overplay his hand.

“A love match,” Baxter cried. “Nobody is going to believe that.”

“Why?” Matteo asked. “We do love each other. We’ve loved each other since we were children. You can ask anyone. Hell, call Germany and ask our mothers. They live together.”

Baxter blinked at him, then looked at Evander. “Your mother and his…live together?”

Evander nodded. “My mother and Matteo’s mother were childhood friends and when Matteo’s dad sent her away my mother and I went with her. They live together in the cottage where Matteo’s mother grew up.”

Baxter and Julian seemed temporarily stymied by this information. They looked at each other, then at Evander and Matteo.

“Your mothers are…friends?” Baxter asked, like he was testing the words.

“Some would say they’re more than friends,” Evander said. “They are inseparable. My mother uprooted our lives to come to the US for her. Matteo’s mother named me. I’ve always been protective of Matteo.” His voice sounded menacing as he reiterated, “Always.”

The word settled over Matteo like another arm around his shoulders.

Baxter began to pace. “So this isn’t a case of a golddigger targeting his former employee’s son but two childhood friends reconnecting after his homophobic father kicked him out?”

Matteo watched as Baxter slid into spin mode. He'd seen his family's publicist do the same thing a million times before, testing the narrative out loud, seeing how it tasted.

“Sure?” Evander hedged.

It didn’t matter. Baxter wasn’t listening.

“You’re going to have to do a press tour,” he said, now doing laps around the kitchen counter. “Big names. No late night BS. We need 60 Minutes, The Morning Show. Gayle King maybe. In an intimate setting.” He looked around the house with a grimace. “Not here clearly. We need to show you as human. Relatable. In love. You’re going to have to make people believe you’ve been in love since you were kids but were torn apart by Matteo’s family.”

Matteo frowned. “It's kinda true.”

Baxter stopped studying Matteo for any chinks in his armor, then turning to glower at Evander. “It’s him I worry about. He has all the warmth and comfort of a first generation AI. He tanks every interview.”

A sudden red hot fury bloomed in Matteo’s chest. 

“Don’t talk about him that way,” Matteo fumed. “He’s autistic. He doesn’t like wasting time on societal niceties when he could be doing actual work. His brain is way too busy for that stuff. He’s a genius, you know.” Evander squeezed Matteo’s hip once again but he wasn’t done. “At least he doesn’t barge into other people’s houses while they’re sleeping…and naked,” he added pointedly.

Baxter seemed taken aback. “I-” He looked at Evander. “You’re autistic?”

“You didn’t know?” Julian asked. “Hell, Even I could have told you that.”

Baxter looked ashamed. “I thought he was just anti-social.”

“That too,” Evander said with a chuckle. “What does my autism have to do with anything?”

“Well, for one, I could have used it to explain your odd behavior during interviews,” he said, exasperated. “How do you know he’s autistic?” he asked Matteo.

“He still lived in our house when he got the diagnosis,” Matteo said.

Baxter nodded thoughtfully. “Perfect.”

Something withered deep inside when he thought about the way he’d teased Evander about it that first week after the report had come back. He’d called him names he would never admit to out loud, things far worse than a robot. He'd let his friends do the same. Evander had still sat and did his math homework with him every night after. He’d still crept into his room at night when he had a nightmare.

He'd understood Evander even then. Not enough to understand autism, but enough to know he wasn't cold. Just...different. Kinder than everyone else in that house. Kind enough to look past Matteo’s atrocious behavior and take care of him anyway. 

Baxter gave them another once over. “You two take the day off. There’s too many reporters camped out outside the office. I’m going to get the interviews set up ASAP. We will need to prep before hand—”

“No,” Matteo said. “If we look too rehearsed nobody will buy it. Just like nobody is going to believe that I’m suddenly a good person. They’re going to have to believe that Evander knows exactly who I am and that he loves me anyway.”

.“And what about you?” Julian asked. “How are you going to convince the world that you actually love Evander and aren’t just using him for his money?”

“I’m not,” Matteo said with a shrug. “I’m going to tell them the truth.”

“Which is what?” Julian asked.

Matteo rested his head against Evander’s shoulder. The familiar weight of Evander's arm around him made the answer unexpectedly easy.

“That I love him…and his money.”

Baxter blinked.

“Your strategy is to admit you’re a golddigger?” Baxter said, rubbing his face.

“No, my strategy is to tell the truth. I did seek out Evander for his money. But the minute I saw him, all my feelings came rushing back. And now we’re here. And maybe it’s not forever but we’re reconnecting and we’re happy. And we love each other.” He glanced over his shoulder at Evander. “Right?”

Evander was looking at him with an expression Matteo couldn’t decipher. Had he done something wrong? Had he overplayed his hand and given Evander too much emotional ammunition? Did Evander not love him like he’d said?

The silence stretched just long enough for panic to start creeping in.

All those thoughts melted away when Evander’s lips pressed to his forehead. Matteo’s eyelids shut, enjoying the feel of his kiss. Warm. Lingering. Entirely unconcerned with the audience watching them. “Right.”

Matteo smiled before he could stop himself. 

When Matteo finally turned around, Julian and Baxter stared at them slack-jawed.

“Oh-Kay,” Julian said, clapping his hands together once. “Let’s get out of here.”

He snatched up the newspaper and began to guide Baxter towards the door.

“Wait,” Baxter said. “There’s more to discuss.”

“Later. Let’s let these two enjoy their morning,” Julian said. “Come on, I’ll buy you breakfast at that place you like with the cajun benedict.”

“Don’t try to bribe me,” Baxter muttered as the front door opened.

Julian snorted. “So you don’t want to go?”

“I didn’t say—”

Whatever conversation they were having died behind the closed door.

Matteo turned in Evander’s arms, burying his face in his chest. “Wow. They’re…a lot.”

Evander laughed softly. The sound rumbled beneath Matteo’s cheek. “You’re right about that.”

He gently pushed Matteo away from him. His voice took on a no-nonsense tone when he said, “Turn around and face the counter.”

“What?” Matteo said, head spinning at the sudden change, before he caught himself. “O-Okay.”

He did as he was told, hips digging into the slab of concrete that was the countertop. Evander dropped to his knees behind him, yanking the joggers down in one swift movement.

“What…” Matteo trailed off as Evander’s fingers trailed over the bruised skin from the night before. The featherlight touch made him shiver. “Is it bad?”

“It’s beautiful,” Evander said.

Matteo gasped as Evander's lips dragged across his overheated flesh. “I wanna see.”

“Yeah?” Evander rasped.

Matteo nodded. “Please?”

“I love when you say please,” Evander admitted. “Stay right as you are.”

Matteo stood trembling as Evander crossed the room back into his bedroom before returning with his phone.

“Hold the hoodie up,” he commanded. “Bend over the counter a little.”

Matteo did as he was told, listening to the click of Evander’s phone as he took pictures of the marks decorating Matteo’s ass.

Evander stepped in behind him, his body caging Matteo against the counter, winding his arms around him so he could show him the pictures, his chin hooked over Matteo’s shoulder.

Matteo sucked in a soft breath. He expected there to be deep bruises and angry red welts but the skin was smooth, more mottled than bruised. He could make out Evander’s fingerprints on his hips, broken blood vessels where his palm had struck him multiple times. One perfect handprint on his upper thigh.

The marks looked less violent than he'd imagined. More like evidence that someone had held onto him with everything they had.

“See?” Evander said into his ear. “You look so hot like this.”

Matteo felt heat creep up the back of his neck. “Do you like it?”

“Fishing for compliments?” he teased, his tongue running along his ear.

“Is that so wrong?” Matteo asked sullenly.

“You know I love it,” Evander said. “Love when you submit to me. When you wear the marks I left on you. When you’re a good boy for me.”

A low whine left Matteo at the words. He was so pathetic for Evander. Good boy. Two words. It only took two words to unravel him. His chest warmed with a confusing mix of pride and embarrassment, his body responding before his brain could catch up.

His voice was a low growl in his ear. “You like being good for me, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he breathed, nodding. “Yes, sir.”

Evander's hand settled on the back of his neck, his thumb stroking slowly beneath his hairline. The simple gesture soothed him almost as much as the praise had.

“Don’t think that just because your bottom is all red and bruised that you won’t be getting your punishment tonight.”

He whimpered.

“It’s going to hurt,” Evander taunted. “You’re going to cry.”

Matteo felt like he was under some kind of spell. He could only nod along to Evander’s words, like he was revealing some prophecy. Every word settled low in his stomach, his pulse quickening with equal parts anticipation and nerves. His cock throbbed with his heartbeat.

“And when it’s over, I’m going to fuck you.”

Matteo gasped. “Really?”

The word escaped before he could stop it, all wide-eyed surprise and barely restrained excitement.

Evander dipped his head, dragging his lips from Matteo’s throat, to the nape of his neck. “Yes. I can’t wait anymore.”

“You—You know I’ve never done…it before. Right? Bottomed, I mean?”

The admission came out quieter than he'd intended, vulnerable in a way that made his cheeks burn.

A low guttural sound left Evander, his teeth scraping Matteo’s skin. “I’ll be careful with you.”

His words shattered Matteo. Evander punished him, challenged him, chastised him, but he didn’t doubt for a second that Evander would be gentle with him. That he would pay attention if something hurt too much. That he would stop if Matteo needed him to. Somehow, that certainty undid him more than any promise of pleasure ever could.

“At least the first time.”