Page 25 of Disciplined: His Forbidden Crush

With a final surge of willpower, Rafael forced himself to release his grip on Summer, allowing him to slide to the floor. Summer’s breath came in ragged pants, his face flushed and tear-streaked. His ass was bright red, marked with the unmistakable imprints of Rafael’s hands.

“Next time you defy me, remember this moment,” Rafael sneered, trying to mask his own confusion and regret behind a façade of disgust. “Now get up and pull yourself together.”

Summer looked up at Rafael, his eyes wide and filled with tears. A mixture of pain, humiliation, and something else—something deeper—shone in those green depths. For a moment, their gazes locked, and Rafael felt a strange connection, an electric charge that seemed to pass between them.

“Fuck you,” Summer whispered, the words barely audible but carrying the weight of a thousand emotions. He wiped his tears away, clearly reluctant to let Rafael see just how much he’d been affected by the ordeal.

But Rafael had already seen it. He couldn’t unknow it. They both knew, now.

“Learn some respect,” Rafael said roughly, turning away from Summer in an attempt to distance himself from the raw emotions that threatened to consume him. He clenched his fists, nails digging into the palms of his hands as he battled the urge to reach out and touch Summer again, to pull him close and…and what?

Rafael knew he’d made a mistake. He’d allowed himself to give in to his basest instincts, and now he wondered what other boundaries he might be willing to break.

He couldn’t. Not with Summer. Any other man, perhaps, but his boss’s son? No. Never.

And yet, he had never wanted to blow up his whole life as strongly as he did with Summer.

Chapter Ten

The unfamiliar weightlessness of his body and the strange satisfaction washing over him left Summer feeling as though he were floating. He couldn’t stop his thoughts from drifting back to the brutal spanking Rafael had given him earlier that day, the sharp sting of each slap still lingering on his tender flesh.

Summer noticed that since the spanking, Rafael had been quiet, a brooding presence in the room despite not saying much. A flush crept up Summer’s cheeks as he wondered if Rafael had noticed how incredibly turned on Summer had been by the painful yet tantalizing punishment. Though embarrassed by his own arousal, Summer knew there was no use pretending it hadn’t happened. As he lingered in the kitchen, cleaning the dinner dishes, he cast furtive glances at Rafael, trying to gauge the man’s thoughts.

Sitting at the kitchen table, Rafael’s broad shoulders and muscled arms gleamed in the light of the setting sun. Summer’s gaze was drawn to the intricate tattoos that ran the length of Rafael’s arms. When Summer had been a teenager, he’d always admired Rafael’s inherent masculinity, but after five years in prison, the man had only become more tattooed, more dangerous—and more irresistible.

As he obediently scrubbed the plates and cutlery in silence, Summer felt the tug of attraction to Rafael. The danger and dominance that clung to him only fed this foolish attraction. There was something thrilling about being in the presence of someone so unapologetically masculine, someone who embodied the things Summer himself did not want to be.

“Need help?” Rafael’s gravelly voice broke the silence, causing Summer to jump slightly.

“No, I’ve got it,” Summer replied quickly, trying to hide the blush that threatened to spread across his cheeks. Rafael simply nodded and leaned back in his chair until it creaked, watching Summer’s movements with a predatory intensity that made Summer’s skin quiver.

Summer tried to focus on the task before him but found it increasingly difficult with Rafael’s gaze burning into him. The memory of being bent over and spanked by those powerful hands sent a jolt of heat through his body, making him squirm in both discomfort and arousal. His body hummed with a strange satisfaction, even hours after the spanking. His skin tingled at the memory of Rafael’s hands on him, and his thoughts swirled as he washed his own hands at the kitchen sink. A question began to form in his mind, one that sent a spark of heat through him: could Rafael be attracted to men?

The thought seemed so alien to Summer. To him, Rafael was the epitome of heterosexuality, a strong, dominant presence that demanded respect. The idea of such a man ‘debasing’ himself by having sex with another man seemed unthinkable.

Yet, as a teenager, Summer had found himself fantasizing about Rafael. He’d imagined them locked together in passionate embraces, the older man taking control and guiding him through the first taste of forbidden pleasures. Now, with the flavor of submission fresh on his lips, those fantasies began to resurface, causing confusion and desire to twist together within him.

That evening, as Rafael sat watching TV, Summer cautiously approached the living room sofa. His ass still burned in his jeans, a constant reminder of the power Rafael held over him. As he gingerly lowered himself onto the sofa beside Rafael, he couldn’t resist rubbing his sore flesh against the cushions, making the ache bloom and intensify. It was a sensation that both confused and excited him.

“Are you alright?” Rafael asked, his voice low and rumbly, without taking his eyes off the screen.

“Y-yeah,” Summer stammered, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. “Just a little sore.”

Rafael glanced at him briefly, the corners of his lips twitching upward in a barely-there smirk. “Good,” he said simply, turning his attention back to the TV.

Summer stole glances at Rafael as they sat side by side. He studied Rafael’s strong jawline, the curve of his biceps where they lay bare, and imagined what it would feel like to be held in those powerful arms.

“Stop staring,” Rafael muttered, startling Summer out of his thoughts. “It’s distracting.”

“Sorry,” Summer murmured, biting his lip to stifle a grin. The tension between them was palpable, and he wondered if Rafael was as affected by their newfound dynamic as he was.

He watched Rafael as he flipped through the channels, eventually settling on a sitcom. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t the worst. As Rafael muttered something under his breath about U.S. media, Summer couldn’t help but smirk.

“Are you always this critical of everything?” Summer asked, trying to keep his tone light and playful.

Rafael shot him a brief glare. “I just don’t understand how people can watch this garbage.”

“Maybe you should just relax and try to enjoy it,” Summer suggested, but his words only seemed to annoy Rafael further.

---