LESSON TWO: CONTROL

CHAPTER 12– Lesson Two: Control 

Leon pushed himself up from the floor, knees still burning from the impact. His hands shook as he moved toward his bag slumped against the cracked wall. He dug inside, pulled out a notebook, and flipped it open, scribbling down the words Aaron had just spoken like they were some sacred code. “Lesson one. Learning how to serve a man.”

Aaron watched him for half a second, then let out a sharp, mocking laugh that cut through the dusty air.

Before Leon could close the book, Aaron snatched it from his hands. With one brutal motion, he ripped the thick notebook straight down the middle. Pages scattered like broken wings across the filthy floor.

Leon froze, dazed. His eyes widened. 

‘How the hell does someone tear a thick notebook like that in one go?’

The raw power in those hands sent a dark, unwanted thrill racing through him. It’s so fucking sexy.

‘Fuck, Leon, what are you doing? Get it together.’

“Lesson two,” Aaron said, voice low and edged with challenge. He tossed the torn halves aside like trash. “Being a nerd is not attractive. At all.”

Leon stared at the ripped pages, then forced his gaze up to meet Aaron’s. Their eyes locked—intense, unblinking. “So what should I do?” he shot back, irritation flaring even as heat crawled up his neck. “Tell me, expert. What does Damian like?”

Aaron studied him, dark eyes narrowing. He shifted on the desk, adjusting his posture with deliberate slowness, legs spreading just a fraction wider. The power in his frame was impossible to ignore.

“Come here.”

Leon hesitated, skepticism twisting his features. “You’re serious?”

Aaron’s stare didn’t waver. “Come. Here.”

Leon stepped closer, rebellious energy sparking in his chest even as his pulse hammered. Every instinct screamed to back off, but something deeper—curiosity mixed with that stupid, stubborn want—kept him moving.

“Sit on my lap,” Aaron ordered, voice dropping.

“What the hell…” Leon’s breath caught. He glanced toward the door, half-expecting someone to burst in and catch them like this.

Aaron leaned forward slightly, eyes gleaming with control. “Do you want to learn or not? Or are you just wasting my time, Leon?”

Leon clenched his jaw, conflicting emotions crashing inside him—irritation at being bossed around, sharp attraction to the way Aaron commanded the room, and that relentless curiosity about Damian. “Fine,” he muttered.

He obeyed, lowering himself onto Aaron’s lap. Their bodies connected, heat bleeding through fabric. Leon could feel the solid strength beneath him, the way Aaron’s thighs tensed.

“Nope,” Aaron said immediately, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. “Face me. Properly.”

“But—”

“No buts.” Aaron’s hands settled on Leon’s hips, guiding him with firm insistence. “Classes are still in session. Turn around.”

Leon’s face burned as he shifted, swinging one leg over to straddle Aaron directly. Their chests were inches apart now. He could feel Aaron’s breath against his collarbone, the steady rise and fall that betrayed nothing while Leon’s own heart threatened to explode. Aaron’s hands stayed on his thighs, thumbs pressing in just enough to anchor him in place. The position felt dangerously intimate—bodies aligned, eye contact unavoidable, tension thick enough to choke on.

Leon swallowed hard, fighting the pull of attraction and the urge to push away. 

‘This is for Damian,’he reminded himself. But the thought felt thinner every second.

Aaron tilted his head, studying Leon’s flushed face with dark satisfaction. “Good. Now, I need you to give me a lap dance.”

“Hell no.” Leon’s voice came out sharper than intended. He tried to stand, muscles coiling, but Aaron’s grip on his thighs tightened instantly—strong, unyielding, holding him down without effort.

Aaron chuckled low, the sound vibrating between them. “Running already? Where’s that bold little rebel from earlier?”

“You want to know what Damian likes, right?” Aaron continued, eyes never leaving Leon’s. His voice carried that mocking edge, daring Leon to fight back. “Well, this is it. This test shows me how good you are with lap dancing. How you move. How you submit without looking weak. Think you can handle that, or are you all talk?”

Leon’s breath hitched. He felt trapped—physically by Aaron’s hands, emotionally by the war inside his chest. Resistance burned hot, but so did the confusing spark of excitement at being held like this. “You’re enjoying this way too much,” he snapped, glaring even as his body stayed put. “This isn’t some game for me.”

“Isn’t it?” Aaron provoked, one eyebrow raised. “You came to me, remember? Begged for help. Now you’re squirming on my lap like you hate it… but you’re not actually leaving. Interesting.”

Leon wanted to argue. He opened his mouth for a sharp comeback, something cutting about Aaron’s ego, but the words died. Instead, he started moving—slowly, hesitantly at first. His hips rolled in a tentative rhythm, body grinding down in careful circles. The friction sent unwelcome sparks through him. He kept his eyes locked on Aaron’s, challenging even in submission, searching for any crack in that controlled expression.

Aaron’s hands guided him subtly, thumbs digging in with approval. “Slower,” he murmured. “Own it. Make me feel like you’re desperate to please. That’s what guys like Damian want—someone who knows their place but still fights just enough to make it fun.”

He rolled his hips again, deeper this time, feeling every shift of Aaron’s body beneath him. Attraction and irritation twisted together until he couldn’t separate them. Part of him wanted to slap that smirk off Aaron’s face. Another part—the one he refused to name—craved the way those dark eyes tracked his every movement.

“You’re not bad,” Aaron teased, voice rougher now. “But you’re holding back. Scared you’ll like it too much? Or scared Damian might actually want this from you?”

Leon’s cheeks burned hotter. He leaned in closer without meaning to, their faces inches apart. “I’m doing this for him, not you. Don’t flatter yourself.”

Aaron’s grip tightened, pulling Leon flush against him for a moment. “Keep telling yourself that. Your body’s saying something else entirely.”

They stayed locked like that—Leon moving in that slow, sensual rhythm, tension crackling between challenge and reluctant surrender. Aaron watched him with predatory focus, one hand sliding up to grip Leon’s waist, controlling the pace just enough to remind him who held the power.

Neither spoke for several long beats. The only sounds were their breathing, the faint creak of the old desk, and the rustle of fabric. 

‘This is humiliating. This feels… too good. Stop. Don’t stop… don’t…’

They both froze on hearing sharp footsteps echoing down the hallway.