Learning Curve - Disciplinary Action #2 - ch. 14 (Patreon)

Unbeta'd/Unedited. Hoping to have more for you this week too.

Evander

Evander couldn’t take his eyes off Matteo.

Ever since their talk in the kitchen, he’d been twitchy.

It was cute how anxious he was.

Last night seemed to have stripped away all his false bravado, leaving this wide-eyed, skittish creature in its place. Every sarcastic quip, every dark scowl Matteo usually hid behind had vanished, replaced by someone painfully transparent.

It reminded him so much of when they were younger, when Matteo used Evander like a human shield between himself and the real world.

Before his father had tried to beat all the weakness out of him.

Matteo did his chores without a fuss—without even being asked—buzzing around the house like he was running on Red Bull and nerves.

Evander pretended to check his email on his phone while silently following him with his eyes. He said nothing as Matteo unloaded the dishwasher, made his bed, straightened the throw blanket for the third time, and fluffed the pillows on the couch. Every task flowed seamlessly into the next, like if he stopped moving for even a second, he'd have to acknowledge what was waiting for him tonight.

Anything to keep Evander at arm's length.

Whenever they made eye contact, Matteo would treat him like a sedated tiger, giving him a strained smile and a wide berth. If Evander grew too close, Matteo wouldn’t flee, wouldn’t even step away, just tense, waiting to see what might happen next.

He was trying so hard to act like nothing was wrong, but when he stopped moving, Evander couldn’t help but notice his hands shaking. His foot bounced. He worried at the inside of his cheek. His breathing hitched every time Evander said his name.

Was it nerves or fear?

Evander hadn’t meant to spook him. He wanted him anticipating the night ahead, not dreading it. As much as he teased him, he wanted him to want their first time together as much as he did.

He loved Matteo. He’d loved him his whole life. The last thing he wanted was for Matteo to remember their first time as something he'd had to survive instead of something they'd shared. He needed to find some way to ease his tension before he threw himself into a panic attack.

“Go take a shower,” Evander said when he caught him reaching for the vacuum.

Matteo gave a stilted nod, stiffening when Evander was close enough to feel the heat of his body.

“I will. Just let me finish—”

Evander leaned forward.

“Now, Matteo,” he purred directly into his ear.

He felt the tiny shiver race through Matteo before he saw it, watched the fine hairs at the back of his neck stand on end.

He pulled back just in time to see Matteo dry swallow, his eyes all pupil. “O-Okay. I-I was just trying to do my chores.”

“You’re not in trouble,” Evander promised. “Just do as you’re told.”

He softened the words with a gentle squeeze to Matteo's shoulder, hoping the touch said what he couldn't quite bring himself to. 

Matteo started to comply, weight shifting from one leg to the other, but then his face fell, looking down at his clothes…Evander’s clothes. He looked at Evander, then dropped his gaze like he wanted to say something but was afraid to.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?” Evander asked, curling a hand around the back of his neck, squeezing some of the tension from Matteo’s straining muscles

The muscles beneath his fingers were wound so tight they felt ready to snap.

His cheeks flushed, still refusing to make eye contact.

“Can—Can I put these clothes back on?”

Evander’s pulse quickened, something dark and possessive rising within him.

“Why?” he asked, voice a low rasp.

“They smell like you,” Matteo ground out, almost like the words had thorns.

Evander’s nostrils flared, breaths coming faster, that sense of ownership flooding him. Every protective instinct he had collided with every possessive one until he could barely tell them apart. He wanted to pick him up and throw him onto the bed, to surround him with his scent, his touch, his attention, to mark him inside and out.

Show him he belonged to him—with him—in every way.

But he needed to wait.

He wanted to take his time, build the anticipation. He wanted Matteo begging. Wanted him trembling and crying, wanted every ounce of Matteo's attention fixed solely on him, wanted him so deep in sub-space that any pain would read as pleasure while Evander slowly took him apart, savoring every piece of him.

There was no rush. He'd waited his entire life for Matteo. He could wait a few more hours to do this right.

He chucked him softly under the chin with a finger, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“You can keep the hoodie and the underwear. Lose the pants.”

“I’m not wearing any underwear,” Matteo muttered.

Evander couldn’t stop the way his lips curled into a grin. “Even better.”

He heard the faint hitch in Matteo’s breathing, his lips parting like he was going to say something but couldn’t decide what.

His tongue darted out, licking over his lower lip. “Okay.”

He hesitated for another moment, then came up on his tiptoes, pressing a quick kiss to Evander’s lips before disappearing into his bathroom.

Evander just stood staring after him.

It was the first time Matteo had initiated any kind of affection without prompting. Not because Evander had asked. Not because he'd been told to. Just because he'd wanted to. Evander bit down on his bottom lip—hard—but still couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.

It was such a tiny thing. Barely a peck. Yet somehow it meant more than every heated kiss they'd shared so far.

His friends thought Evander and Matteo were playing with each other, trying to screw each other over in some form or another. But they didn’t understand. They could never understand that this was just who they were as people.

Sure, it had started as a game of sorts. They’d had to play these games as children. Matteo was rich. Evander was the help. They were children who had too many feelings and no vocabulary to express them. Even at Matteo’s worst—when he would torment and taunt Evander all day—he would cling to Evander at night.

He’d trusted him to protect him.

Evander would crawl into Matteo’s bed after another screaming match with his father as though there had never been cruel words between them at all, curling against him and falling asleep within minutes.

Had Matteo antagonized Evander? Sure. But Evander understood why. In a way no other person could. He and Matteo were trauma bonded. During the worst times in the younger boy’s life, it was Evander he sought out for comfort, and that need fed something in him.

Evander had realized long ago that he had a need for control. A need to be needed. He always knew his love was obsessive, irrational, dominating. Everything Matteo claimed he didn’t want, yet returned to time and again.

Because beneath every argument, every challenge, every spectacular act of rebellion, Matteo had always been searching for the same thing. Safety. And somehow, despite everything they'd done to each other as children, Evander had always been home to Matteo.

Evander pulled himself from his thoughts, trying to determine just what they should do for the rest of the day.

They were pretty much trapped in the apartment. No doubt reporters and paparazzi would be everywhere now. At home and at work.

He needed a distraction, a reward for how well Matteo had done with his punishment last night. Something soft. Comforting. Something that reminded Matteo that not every moment between them had to be intense. Something that would allow him to relax before the night ahead.

Then it came to him.

A lazy afternoon in bed. Takeout. A movie. Something familiar enough that Matteo could laugh instead of think.

He opened the Dasher app on his phone and ordered food. Nothing healthy. Just sugary treats he rarely kept in the house. Evander, for all his control issues, had very little self-control when it came to carbs. His sweet tooth had become something of a running joke among the people who knew him best.

Something Baxter had pointed out to him the week they’d met, before setting him up with the world’s meanest coach. She would not be happy about this at all. Which is why Evander wouldn’t tell her.

Some rules were meant to be broken. Today, he intended to break several.

With the food ordered, he turned to a different app, one that controlled his entire home.

He walked to his room, closing the thick blackout curtains before hitting the button that lowered the projection screen from the ceiling. The soft whir of the hidden motor filled the room as the screen descended, sealing them away from the bright afternoon beyond the windows. He cued up a movie, one they’d both watched a hundred times as kids, but that he hadn’t watched in decades.

The food arrived just as Matteo left the shower.

Evander’s dick throbbed in appreciation of the picture he made.

His hoodie was half-zipped, hanging off one narrow shoulder. His damp hair curled at the ends, tiny droplets of water still clinging to the strands before disappearing beneath the collar of the sweatshirt. The hem was long enough to hide his cock, but left miles of leg and the curve of one ass cheek on full display.

He somehow looked both innocent and dirty at the same time. Temptation wrapped in borrowed clothes.

Evander gestured to his bedroom with a nod, lifting the bags in his hands by way of explanation. Matteo’s brows went up, but he didn’t ask questions, just padded quietly into the room on bare feet.

Evander followed slowly, his gaze snagging on the handprints still visible from the night before.

They'd begun to soften around the edges, faint shadows against warm skin, and satisfaction settled deep in his chest knowing Matteo would wear them all day and Evander would add to them tonight.

He set the food on the bed, keeping off the overhead lights, opting for the can lights on the floor tucked against the wall, giving them enough light to navigate. Enough to see, but not enough to distract or distort the image from the projector.

The bedroom immediately felt smaller somehow, quieter, the muted glow wrapping around them until the outside world ceased to exist.

Matteo hovered beside the bed, like he was waiting for instructions. He looked vulnerable in a way that shot heat straight through Evander. Like he hadn't quite figured out whether this was another lesson or simply permission to breathe.

Evander patted the other side of the bed. “Come eat.”

Matteo gave a stilted nod, then joined him on the bed, tucking his legs beneath him as he took in the display of pastries.

There were donuts, scones, croissants, tiny quiche.

“Wow,” Matteo said, looking almost a little afraid of the food. “Isn’t eating in bed against the rules?”

Evander arched a brow. “And who makes the rules?”

Matteo’s eyes went soft and hazy. “You do.”

“That’s right. I make the rules and you follow them. Right?” he asked softly.

Matteo nodded. “Yes.”

“Good boy.”

The words settled over Matteo like a warm blanket. His shoulders loosened almost imperceptibly, his breathing picking up as a shy smile threatened at the corners of his mouth before he ducked his head.

“Eat something.”

Matteo looked overwhelmed with his options. His gaze bounced from pastry to pastry like he was terrified of choosing the wrong one.

Evander picked up a donut covered in chocolate frosting and dusted with white sprinkles shaped like hearts.

He held it to Matteo’s lips. Matteo looked at him for a second before leaning forward without hesitation, trusting him completely. He bit it dutifully, eyes rolling and an obscene moan escaping as he chewed.

Evander grinned, his own chest warming at the sound. Handing him the rest of the donut, he brushed a stray smear of chocolate from the corner of Matteo's mouth with his thumb before licking it absently from his own skin.

He clicked play on the movie.

Matteo’s eyes went wide, seemingly only noticing the screen when the opening credits of the movie began to play. His entire face lit up with surprise as the familiar music filled the room.

As soon as he heard it, he turned to Evander, his excitement palpable. His whole face brightened, nerves forgotten for the first time all day. “Is this…”

“Willy Wonka, yeah. It was one of the first titles I found on reel when I moved in.”

Matteo’s shoulders sagged, the tension melting out of him, a smile playing at his lips as he leaned back against the pile of pillows, tearing off pieces of his donut before eating them.

“How many times did we watch this movie that one summer?”

“Every day. Sometimes two or three times a day. You would throw a fit if I said we should try to watch something else.”

Matteo grinned, rolling his eyes.

“I was like four.”

“You were so annoying,” Evander teased with a smile and an eye roll.

Matteo scoffed. “I was adorable.”

He was adorable. Even Evander could see that as another child. Huge eyes, that slight lisp, a mop of messy hair, and a big smile.

Back before life ran them over. Back before either of them knew what it felt like to dread Matteo’s fathers return.

“For a little kid, I guess,” Evander countered with a playful shrug.

“You were also a little kid,” Matteo said, rolling his eyes. “Just a couple years older.”

“More than a couple,” Evander reminded him.

Matteo bumped his shoulder against Evander's, smiling to himself. “You were ancient.”

Evander pinched him. “I was seven.”

“Practically fossilized,” Matteo intoned in an old man voice.

Evander snorted. “Brat.”

Matteo looked absurdly pleased with himself.

They fell silent as the movie started. It was about ten minutes in when Evander realized Matteo was no longer eating. He moved the food farther down the bed, allowing Matteo to get closer. It wasn't even a conscious decision. He simply made room for him.

His weight leaned into Evander immediately, his cheek resting on Evander’s bare shoulder. The heat of his skin pressed to Evander’s was as distracting as it was comforting.

Evander could feel every slow breath Matteo took, the steady rise and fall gradually settling into an easy rhythm.

“I can’t believe this is a kids movie,” Matteo said eventually, coiling his arm around Evander’s like a python.

Evander’s heart kicked behind his ribs at the quiet intimacy of the gesture. He didn't comment on it. Didn't tease him for being clingy. He just let Matteo hold on as tightly as he wanted.

“The ’70s were a wild time,” Evander agreed.

After a few minutes, Matteo added, “It’s kind of fucked up that the grandpa has been pretending to be bed bound all these years, making the parents do everything for them, but the minute Charlie gets that golden ticket, he pops out of bed and starts dancing. I’d be livid.” Matteo frowned thoughtfully. “I’d like...sue or something.”

Evander chuckled, shaking his head. “I forgot how judgmental you are during movies.”

“I’m not judgmental,” Matteo argued. “I just have questions.”

“You have hundreds of questions.”

“And none of them get answered!” Matteo cried. “Like how did we never notice that this Wonka guy is clearly a serial killer?” Matteo asked. When Evander didn’t say anything, Matteo released a sound so whiny, it shot straight to Evander’s cock. “Play with me. Be catty with me like you used to. You used to love to tear movies apart with me.” 

Evander sighed like he was doing Matteo a favor, but couldn’t stop the soft smile that formed. “Wonka was charming.” 

“So was Bundy,” Matteo reminded him. “Still murdered so many people.”

“Yeah,” Evander said. “Because he was charming.” 

Matteo giggled. “Still you’d think a child killer would have been caught quicker.” 

“Everyone was a serial killer back then. Kids were being snatched left and right. They had commercials reminding parents that they should know where their kids are at ten PM.”

“Maybe they should have been arresting the parents,” Matteo said around a giggle, the sound vibrating against Evander's chest, shifting once more.

He released Evander’s arm, then glanced up at him with those big, familiar eyes. Evander curled an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in so he could put his head on his chest. Matteo came without hesitation, fitting against him with an ease that made something in Evander's chest ache.

He felt more than heard Matteo’s contented sigh. It was the first time all day that he appeared truly relaxed. 

Because of Evander. Because Evander had agreed to ‘play’ with him. 

“Not sure what’s worse, a serial killer snatching your kids or a Hunger Games-style fight to become the owner of a failing chocolate factory,” Evander commented a few minutes later, earning another laugh from Matteo.

Evander’s breath caught as Matteo’s hand absently fell to the waistband of Evander’s underwear, his fingertips idly tracing the elastic without seeming to realize he was doing it at all. Unfortunately, Evander’s cock took immediate notice, growing half-hard. 

“Mm,” Matteo murmured, eyes still on the screen. “I’m no business expert but it seems like a really flawed way to find a successor. Leaving a child in charge rarely worked out for the monarchy...or the child.”

Evander stroked Matteo’s bare shoulder, noting the goosebumps that erupted in his wake. His thumb moved in slow, absent circles, more interested in soothing Matteo than in drawing attention to the touch.

“Don’t you have to be an adult to sign a contract anyway?” Matteo mused, though he sounded a tad breathless. 

His fingertips were dipping beneath his waistband now, not enough to give any relief, just enough to keep Evander on edge while he pretended he didn’t notice the effect he was having. 

Evander continued to stroke him, his hand never pausing, also keeping his eyes on the screen, eager to see where this game of chicken might lead.

“If we’re going to talk about Wonka’s flawed management model, we can’t ignore the enslaved orange creatures doing all of the heavy labor,” he said. 

“How did he get away with that?” Matteo asked.

“There are several important ethical and legal violations happening there,” Evander said. “They would have been shut down and boarded up in days.”

Matteo shrugged. “Maybe not with this administration.”

“Fair enough,” Evander said with a grimace.

Matteo nodded. “Never mind that he also makes them sing and dance, which feels like adding insult to injury. The only thing worse than randomly being thrown into the ring to own a company I didn’t ask for is then being asked to perform while kids are dropping like flies around me. No thank you.”

Matteo suddenly shifted, stretching out sideways on the bed, resting his head on Evander’s thigh, the movement so casual it almost felt unconscious, continuing the conversation like Evander might not notice his new location.

Evander noticed immediately. There was no way for Matteo to miss the effect he was having on him. But he pretended anyway.

“And that chocolate river cannot be sanitary, especially with kids falling into it. Like, do we even know he’s the first? Does that tube thing filter out all the dead and dying kids? Are there bodies rotting in that chocolate river? And, if so, that’s at the very least manslaughter, no?” Matteo frowned thoughtfully. “I’d be writing a strongly worded letter to whoever is in charge of food safety. The FDA or whoever.”

Evander’s gaze followed the line of Matteo’s body, the oversized hoodie riding up just enough to expose his naked ass. As if Matteo could feel his stare, he grabbed a pillow, hugging it against himself to hide his cock.

Evander’s lips quirked into the faintest smile as he let his hand fall to Matteo’s naked hip, drawing lazy patterns there.

Matteo’s breath hitched as Evander’s fingertips moved. His eyes stayed fixed on the movie with almost comical determination, as though pretending not to notice somehow made the gentle touch less distracting.

Evander pretended he couldn’t see the effect he was having on him, casually continuing their silly conversation.

“If we’re going to talk about the FDA, then we need to talk about OSHA. They’d have a field day with the number of violations happening there. This would be a massive scandal. Human trafficking, child endangerment, intentional infliction of emotional distress. Wonka would be in prison for life and that factory would have been shut down.”

“Tax evasion,” Matteo added solemnly.

Evander blinked. “Tax evasion?”

Matteo nodded against his thigh. “Successful people always commit tax fraud in movies. I don't make the rules.”

A surprised laugh escaped Evander before he could stop it, his fingers giving Matteo's hip an absent, affectionate squeeze.

Matteo gave a short laugh, then they both fell into comfortable silence for a while. The room filled with the familiar soundtrack, the soft glow from the projector washing over them as afternoon quietly slipped toward evening.

It was only when Evander’s hand fell to his ass, rubbing it gently, that Matteo spoke again, voice strained like he was desperate for a distraction.

“You think they made all of the kids but Charlie unlikable so we didn’t care when he killed them?”

Evander snorted.

“What?” Matteo asked, turning to glare up at him. “They’re all so obnoxious. Totally spoiled.”

“Okay, Veruca,” Evander teased.

Matteo gasped at Evander’s assessment, sputtering like he wanted to fire back but couldn’t gather his thoughts.

Finally, he glowered at him. “I never once asked for a pony,” he sulked.

Evander gave his butt a gentle pat.

“Don’t be upset. Veruca was a product of her environment and so are you,” Evander said.

“So...you think I’m just a spoiled golddigger, just like Baxter and Julian?” Matteo asked, the teasing slipping away until there was something painfully vulnerable beneath the pout.

God, he was so sexy like this.

Not because he was pouting. Because for once, Matteo wasn't hiding behind a joke.

“I think you were spoiled when it came to material things and neglected when it came to any type of comfort or emotions.” Evander’s thumb continued its slow path over Matteo's hip, grounding him as much as Matteo. “You’re only considered a golddigger because you no longer have access to a family fortune. If you were still rich, nobody would think twice about you wanting to marry someone of equal monetary status.”

Matteo stared at the ceiling for a long moment. “You said you loved me,” he mumbled.

“I do love you.”

That seemed to mollify him somewhat, but he still said, “You don’t sound like you love me…”

Evander shook his head. How could Matteo not see that all of this was for him? That it had always been for him?

“Look around you,” Evander said. “Every dollar I earned was because of you. Every late night. Every impossible deadline. Every meeting I hated sitting through. It was all to be able to show you that I can take care of you the way you deserve. Do you think I care about IPOs, going public, any of this stuff? The only reason there’s anything for-profit in my company is to take care of you. I don’t care about fancy houses or fancy cars or name-brand clothes. Even the way I look is only a means to an end. Three years ago, I was the same skinny nerd you made fun of when we were kids, though admittedly my acne had cleared up.”

Matteo turned until he was on his back, looking up at Evander.

“This morning I was looking at you while you slept,” he admitted quietly. “I wasn’t looking at your perfect teeth or your toned abs. I was looking for the parts of you I remembered.”

Evander’s stomach did something funny. “Like what?”

Matteo raised his hand, tracing Evander’s brows. “These. You’ve always had these caterpillar brows.”

His fingertips lingered there for a second before drifting lower. “Your rockstar cheekbones.”

He traced those next. “This mouth.”

His fingertips followed his words. “Your butt chin.” 

“Butt chin,” Evander grumbled. 

Matteo ignored him. “Even the scars on your cheeks. Those are the things that remind me of the boy who took care of me even when I didn’t deserve it.”

Evander leaned into the touch before he could stop himself. It was almost imperceptible, but Matteo noticed. He always noticed.

Evander’s hand slipped into the opening of Matteo’s—Evander’s—hoodie, trailing along his sternum. “You haven’t changed at all. You’re still as pretty as you always were.”

Matteo smiled for barely a heartbeat before it faded again.

“Would you still love me if I wasn’t?” Matteo asked, his voice so quiet Evander almost missed it, before biting his lower lip like he was afraid of the answer.

“I can acknowledge that you’re pretty—almost too pretty—without caring about your looks.”

“If it’s not my looks and it’s not my personality, what do you even see in me?” Matteo asked, his eyes searching Evander's face like the answer might undo him. 

His face clouded over, every old insecurity creeping back to the surface.

“Who said I don’t like your personality?” Evander asked. His fingertips continued their lazy path over Matteo’s skin, anchoring him there beside him. “I don’t like this spoiled public persona. I don’t like this entitled little party boy you pretend to be to get under your family’s skin. I don’t like how you sell yourself short. I don’t like that you don’t expect more from yourself like I do.” He paused, waiting until Matteo finally met his eyes again. “But I love who you are when you think the world isn’t watching…like right now.”

“Submissive?” Matteo sulked.

“Sure,” Evander admitted. “I like how easily you give in to me even when you don’t want to. I like how quickly your body submits to me. I like how your eyes get all hazy and your body relaxes for me just because I tell you to. I like that you trust me enough to let me see that side of you. I like how you look when you’re in pain. When you cry for me. I love how you beg. I love how sweet and vulnerable you are when it’s over.”

He brushed a strand of hair back from Matteo’s forehead.

“But I love your bratty side too. You can be mouthy with me. You can talk back, act out, push my buttons...if you’re willing to accept the consequences of your actions.”

A tiny smile tugged at Matteo’s lips. “That part I already knew.”

Evander huffed out a quiet laugh. “But out there…” he continued, his expression sobering, “we have to maintain an image. Whether we like it or not. And that image means being the sweet boy I grew up with and retiring the bad boy who would do anything to spite his father.”

“Easier said than done,” Matteo murmured.

Evander shook his head. “You don't have to keep fighting a man who's already lost.”

“You only think he’s lost. I promise you, my father and grandfather won’t let this go. They’re trying to punish me and now you’ve gotten in their way. They’ll try to destroy you,” Matteo said.

“They can try,” Evander said, letting the threat hang in the air. 

There was no force on this earth great enough to take Matteo from him a second time. Not Baxter, not Julian, and certainly not Adrian Cruz and his deranged father. Matteo was his. He’d always been his. He’d go scorched earth on them if he had to, ensuring that there wasn’t a single stone of their crumbling kingdom left when he was done with them. 

But he kept that to himself. 

“Are you really going to marry me?” Matteo asked quietly.

“Of course,” Evander said. “Baxter will probably quit on the spot if I don’t make you sign a prenup, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

The pillow was in Matteo’s lap now. “I’ll...I’ll sign a prenup...for you.”

Evander stilled. Everything else—the movie, the pastries, the quiet hum of the projector—seemed to disappear.

He looked down at Matteo, scanning his face. “What?”

“You heard me,” Matteo muttered, his ears turning pink. “Don’t make me say it again.”

For Matteo, whose entire life had been built on the premise that money was security, it wasn't a casual offer. It was trust.

Evander reached for his hand, threading their fingers together before bringing Matteo's knuckles to his lips.

“I won’t let anyone take advantage of you,” Evander promised. “Not even me.”

Matteo looked sad, but he nodded. “I believe you.”

The words settled over Evander with surprising weight. Matteo said them so simply, as though there had never been another possible answer. For someone who trusted almost no one, it was the greatest gift Matteo had ever given him. Neither of them spoke after that.

They didn't need to.

The familiar music from Willy Wonka drifted quietly through the room while Matteo inched closer until he was tucked against Evander once more, his head resting against his chest.

Evander tightened his arm around him, pressing a kiss into his hair without taking his eyes off the screen. Tomorrow would bring reporters, board meetings, contracts, and all the chaos waiting outside those walls.

For now, they had an old movie, too much sugar, and the promise of something far more intimate later that night. 

That was more than enough for now.