Breaking The Rules | CH. 2
A virgin Mormon. A new stepbrother. An erotic tale.
Previously: CH. 1
Intended exclusively for mature readers 18+
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CHAPTER TWO
Six months had passed since that Saturday that rewrote Caleb’s world. The memory of that day burned in his chest, a mix of shame and something hotter, something that kept him up at night. He’d been digging deep in secret, using a burner phone bought with cash from mowing lawns and odd jobs around the neighborhood to scour the internet. Hidden browsers opened up a world of dominance, submission, control — stuff he never knew existed. He read about bondage, watched clips when he could, and soaked in every detail with a desperate, hungry focus. Physically, he’d changed too, hitting the garage at night to lift Rick’s rusty old weights, carving lean muscle into his once-lanky frame. He wasn’t bulky like Travis, but his shoulders were broader now, his grip stronger.
Travis, though? He hadn’t pushed for round two. He’d been content with sly winks, brushing past Caleb in the hallway a little too close, or lounging shirtless with that damn smirk, thinking Caleb was still the same repressed choir boy he could toy with. He didn’t see the storm building. With their parents away for a week-long church conference, the house was theirs, a pressure cooker of unspoken tension ready to blow.
That Friday night, Caleb was ready. His room was set — dim, just a desk lamp casting long shadows across the walls. In his drawer, hidden under a stack of old notebooks, sat a small bottle of lube and a pair of handcuffs he’d ordered online weeks ago, heart pounding as he clicked “buy.” He took a deep breath, steadied himself, and called out down the hall.
“Travis, come here a sec. Need help with something.”
Travis sauntered in, all lazy confidence, wearing nothing but those faded grey sweatpants slung low on his hips, a light sheen of sweat on his chest from whatever he’d been doing. He raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe.
“What’s up, bro? Better not be some church bullshit.”
“Sit down, Travis. I wanna talk about last time,” Caleb said, his voice low, calm, but threaded with something sharp. He gestured to the bed.
Travis hesitated, eyes narrowing. He sensed a shift, but his cocky grin stayed put as he dropped onto the edge of the bed, spreading his legs in that casual, dominant way he always did. “Alright, let’s talk. You still freakin’ out about it?”
Caleb stepped closer, his usual stammer gone, replaced by a hard edge. “You thought you taught me everything, huh? But I’ve been learning on my own. You’re gonna listen to me now.” He reached into the drawer, pulling out the cuffs and dangling them from one finger, the metal glinting in the low light. “Lay on your stomach on the bed. Hands above your head. Don’t make me ask twice.”
Travis barked a laugh, thinking it was a bluff. “What, you gonna play cop now? Come on, man, quit fuckin’ around.”
But Caleb’s stare didn’t waver — cold, unyielding, those blue eyes behind his wire-rimmed glasses pinning Travis down harder than any touch. Travis’s smirk faltered for a split second, a flicker of uncertainty … but curiosity — or maybe arrogance — got the better of him. He shrugged, rolling onto his stomach with a grunt, stretching his arms up toward the headboard. “Fine, let’s see your little game, Cal.”
Caleb moved fast, snapping the cuffs around Travis’s thick wrists, and securing them to the bars of the headboard with a satisfying click. He leaned down, his breath hot against Travis’s ear, voice dropping to a rough whisper. “I’ve read up on how to make a guy like you squirm.”
Travis twisted his head to look back, a mix of amusement and unease on his face. “Yeah? You think you got me figured out? Go on then, nerd. Try me.”
Caleb didn’t bite at the taunt. He grabbed a feather duster he’d stashed earlier — something cheap he’d found in the garage — and dragged it slow across Travis’s bare back, watching the muscles twitch under the light touch. Travis let out a sharp breath, caught off guard. “What the fuck is that? Tickling? Really?”
“Shut up,” Caleb snapped, his voice firm. He trailed the feathers lower, over the waistband of Travis’s sweats, then tugged them down with one hard yank, exposing his ass. Travis tensed, pulling at the cuffs, but they held tight. Caleb tossed the duster aside, kneeling behind him, hands gripping Travis’s hips. “Thought you could just use me and walk away? Nah, I’m gonna show you what it’s like to take it.”
“Fuck, Cal, you’re not playin’ around,” Travis muttered, his usual bravado cracking just a hair. “Alright, do your worst.”
