Page 18 of Disciplined: His Forbidden Crush
“Stop squirming,” Rafael ordered, his voice sharp and cold, cutting through Summer’s thoughts. “You’re only making it worse for yourself.”
“Fuck you,” Summer spat back. He knew he was fighting a losing battle, but damn it, he refused to give in without a fight.
“Careful,” Rafael warned, his hands tightening on Summer’s slick skin. “Watch your mouth.”
A mix of anger and arousal coursed through Summer, making him grit his teeth. He hated the way Rafael toyed with him, treating him like a plaything to be poked and prodded until he snapped. But beneath that loathing, there was an undeniable craving for something else.
“Be a good boy,” Rafael murmured, leaning in close enough that Summer could feel his breath on his ear. “Stop fighting and things will get better for you.”
“Get away from me,” Summer hissed, trying to ignore the shudder that ran through him.
Rafael laughed at him, and went about methodically washing Summer’s body.
Was this something he’d picked up in prison? Summer tried to picture it, Rafael toying with some twink in the prison showers, but his mind scratched out the image immediately.
Rafael’s hands moved down. Summer bit his lip, closing his eyes and shuddering under the hot water. He gasped when Rafael tenderly washed his cock, pulling back the foreskin and cleaning him thoroughly. Despite himself, Summer felt a flush of heat spread through him. He could feel himself lengthening, hardening in Rafael’s hand.
Neither of them said a word, the only sound the spray of the water, but the unspoken acknowledgement of Summer’s arousal hung heavily between them, like a secret they were both unwilling to confront. After, Summer dried himself silently, and Rafael declared it was time for bed.
Bed was another torture. Summer tugged fruitlessly against the rope that bound his wrists and ankles. Each night, Rafael would tie Summer to the bed, leaving him completely vulnerable. They shared the same bed, only the thin sheet separating their bodies. Summer could feel the heat radiating from Rafael’s muscular form, and it drove him mad.
This wasn’t how he’d pictured sharing a bed with Rafael. And God, he’d imagine it so vividly.
Frustration itched at him as he listened to Rafael’s steady breathing in the darkness. He pictured Rafael’s strong hands pinning him down, exploring every inch of his body.
“Shhh, cariño,” the Rafael in his mind murmured, as his hands moved over Summer’s fevered skin. “Let this happen.”
Oh, how he wanted Rafael to touch him, to possess him in ways no one else ever had. Or was that the old Rafael? This new one was a bastard. A sexy bastard, his mind supplied traitorously. Summer wriggled in annoyance with himself.
“Something wrong?” Rafael’s voice cut through the darkness, rough and close.
“No,” Summer lied, trying to keep his voice steady. “Just go back to sleep.”
“Alright then,” Rafael said softly, leaving Summer with his thoughts and desires—a dangerous combination that threatened to consume him whole.
Summer lost count of the days pretty quickly. All he could catalogue were his rebellions and the privileges they lost him.
He sat on the couch, hands tied securely behind his back, watching Rafael prowl around the apartment with a frown etched on his face. He had hoped that their shared nights might soften Rafael’s demeanor during the day, but it seemed the opposite was true.
“Are you going to be a good boy for me today, Summer?” Rafael asked as he did every morning, his smile mocking.
“Fuck off,” Summer spat, refusing to give in to Rafael’s attempts at control. He could feel his anger boiling beneath the surface like lava, ready to erupt.
Rafael sighed, shaking his head. “That’s another privilege gone.”
Summer clenched his jaw as he lost the right to coffee. The next day, he lost the right to eat at the table. He found himself forced to kneel on the floor, accepting food from Rafael’s hand. It was humiliating, and it made Summer’s blood boil with rage.
“Here,” Rafael said, holding out a piece of tortilla. Summer glared at him before taking it between his teeth and spitting it onto the floor.
“Stupid fucking game,” Summer mumbled under his breath, his eyes locked on Rafael’s. The infuriating smirk that played on Rafael’s lips was almost too much to bear.
“Alright then,” Rafael said, his voice cold and measured. He grabbed a handful of uncooked rice from the kitchen counter and spread it on the floor. “Kneel here.”
“Are you serious?” Summer asked incredulously, but the look in Rafael’s eyes told him there would be no arguing. With a resigned sigh, he shuffled over and lowered himself onto the coarse grains of rice, trying not to wince as they dug into his bare shins.
“Stay there,” Rafael ordered, sitting in a kitchen chair and reaching for a book, leaving Summer kneeling on the painful bed of rice. Every second felt like an eternity as the rice dug deeper into his flesh, sending jolts of agony up his legs. His skin felt like it was on fire, but he refused to let Rafael see how much it hurt.
“Is this what you want?” Summer asked through gritted teeth, fighting back tears. “To break me like some fucking animal?”
