Fiction: Re-education

[kethni]

Name: Re-education
Pairing: Matt/Luke (reference to Sylar/Luke)
Rating: 18
Warnings: Sex, spanking, language
Note: With thanks to perdiccas for the prompt.
Word count: 3877
Summary: Matt can’t let Luke carry on getting away with hell.



Even now, Matt isn’t quite sure how it happened, but that’s nothing new. Finding himself washed along by events is sadly par for the course.

But even so, he’s not sure how he ended up in a motel room with a sulky, aggressive, teenage boy in his bed. Just thinking the words makes him feel a little sick. A teenage boy. Even though he’s eighteen, and over the past three months it’s become perfectly clear that Matt has absolutely no hold over him at all. He comes and goes as he pleases, carelessly crashing into Matt’s life, and usually asking for money.

He looks younger than his years: his features are soft and unformed, his muscles undefined. When he rolls over in the bed his pale skin glimmers in the moonlight.

What am I doing? Matt wonders. He’s not even that attractive. He’s not attractive at all actually. And he’s a tyrant.



In the morning, Luke wakes him with a kiss and an insistent hand on his cock. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey,’ Matt says, trying to wriggle away from him. ‘Breakfast?’

‘I wanna fuck,’ he whines, bucking against Matt.

‘I have to...’

‘I don’t know why I come to see you!’ Luke snarls. ‘I don’t think you even like me!’ he punches the pillow and rolls off Matt, bursting into noisy tears.

‘Luke I’m... I’m sorry...’

‘Don’t touch me!’ he screams, jumping up and dragging on his jeans. ‘I hate you!’

Matt scrabbles out of bed after him as he storms from the room in only his jeans. Matt pulls on his shirt and trousers, jumps into his shoes, and hares out after him. At the far end of the corridor, the elevator chimes as it begins its descent.

Matt sighs and takes a few minutes to make himself more respectable, combing his hair and getting his jacket. Luke can hardly have run outside in bare feet, no matter how angry he is. All there is downstairs is the breakfast room and the reception. Matt gets into the returned elevator and takes a deep breath as he presses the button.

How did it come to this? The lad had been hitchhiking. Matt had recognised him from the circulars and had picked him up, meaning to bring him in. But he’d recognised something else in the boy, not just the bruises, oh he recognised them, but the twitching, flinching at every sudden movement, and the whining hunger for attention. Matt recognised both of those, remembered what it was like to be that boy. He’d never meant, never intended, to respond to Luke’s overtures. Not that he was surprised, he wasn’t. That sort will do anything, use anything for a weapon, and he knew that. Luke had been more insistent then he’d expected, more determined, and Matt had been lonely, worse, Matt had felt sorry for him.

Luke’s in the breakfast room, drawing stares and causing the other patrons to whisper and nudge each other. The bruises are long gone from his body but the scars are still there; the sickly white stripes stark in the morning light alongside the still fading ugly purple smears that Sylar inflicted. Someone’s bound to have called the cops. A young man, half-naked, scarred, crying his eyes out, wandering around the motel when he’s been spending the night with an older man? They’ll throw away the key.

Matt hesitates, unsure how best to approach. If he goes over the chances are that Luke will make a scene. But Luke’s already sobbing about being abandoned and unloved. Matt edges over and touches Luke’s wrist.

‘Luke...’

‘Don’t touch me, I hate you!’ Luke screams, shoving Matt away into a buffet table.

‘Okay, okay, I’m going to go upstairs,’ Matt placates, backing away from Luke.

Luke scrubs at his face with his hand. ‘You only want me for sex.’

Matt gapes at the unfairness of it: at the fact that Luke seems genuinely aggrieved and honest in his belief of it.

‘That’s not true! I wanted to come and get breakfast you were the one who wanted...’

It doesn’t matter. Everyone in the breakfast room is staring at them, and it doesn’t take a telepath to work out what they’re thinking.

‘I’m going to go up to the room. You come up when you feel ready,’ Matt says eventually. ‘No rush.’

Luke glares at him through heavy, red-rimmed eyes. ‘You’re just leaving me here?’

‘No I... I don’t want to upset you any more than I already have, that’s all,’ Matt says honestly.

Luke’s thought processes are a mystery. The rules of cause and effect apparently twisted through ninety or a hundred and eighty degrees so that Matt is never sure if his kindness and warmth will be met with rage, sweetness, hatred, or surprised pleasure. The worst part is that Luke can be sweet, tender, and affectionate: if he were always the screaming, nightmarish, monster than not even Matt would have continued seeing him.

‘I’m cold,’ Luke says, apropos of nothing, and his tone is soft and hurt now, as if Matt had thrown him out into out of the room rather than his having stormed out.

‘Here,’ Matt says, wrapping his jacket around the younger man. ‘I’ll wait upstairs.’

‘Have some breakfast. You wanted breakfast.’

‘I’m not hungry now,’ Matt admits. ‘I’ll get us packed and everything.’



Last night had started so well. He hadn’t seen Luke in a few weeks, had been thinking perhaps that Luke had found someone else, and he was surprised by how pleased Luke seemed with his company. They’d spent a comfortable, companionable night watching movies, screwing, and talking. Then the manager had come by, all nosy suspicions and nasty insinuations, and Matt had been forced to send him away with a forced belief that there was nothing going on. That had sucked a lot of the fun out for Matt, and Luke had sneered; called him weak and a coward. Sylar wouldn’t have done that, Sylar would’ve killed him, Sylar wasn’t afraid of his own ability. Sylar, Sylar, Sylar. Matt is sick of hearing the name. He was the ex-fuck against who all others were measured and none seemed to compare. An extremely aggravated suggestion that if Matt was so deficient then Luke should go and find Sylar, was met with flood of tears and accusations of hatred.

Matt didn’t hate Luke that was the problem. If he did, life would be simple. He liked Luke, a lot. At least he liked the open, warm, funny Luke, not the one raging in pain, fear, and, yes, hate. Sometimes there are flashes of genuine hate. Sometimes he despises Matt with every beat of his rotten little heart. But Luke doesn’t seem to know why and Matt has no idea either.



Luke has to knock on the door for Matt to let him back in. He’s huddling inside Matt’s jacket feeling ashamed and sorry for himself. He tries to kiss Matt on the cheek but Matt pulls away.

‘Don’t be mad.’

‘You just humiliated me in front of all of those people! Worse they probably think you’re some sort of rent boy or bloody sex abuse victim!’ Matt snaps. ‘Stop sniggering, it’s not funny.’

‘It’s not like we’re ever going to come here again,’ Luke wheedles.

‘We can’t now can we?’ Matt retorts, throwing his clothes into the small carryall. ‘Get your stuff together, okay?’

‘Don’t be mad,’ Luke says again, rubbing Matt’s back. ‘I don’t like it when you get angry.’

Matt pushes him away. ‘I don’t want to talk to you right now.’

‘I don’t want to fucking talk to you!’ Luke sneers, fruitlessly trying to shove Matt. ‘You’re nothing but a dirty old man! Disgusting, filthy, I bet you have pictures of little boys at home don’t you? That why you never take me there? Maybe you’ve got a little boy, are you married Matt? Wonder what your family would think.’

Matt looks away and shakes his head. ‘Why do you do this? Why do you have to be so...hateful?’

‘Maybe it’s because I fucking hate you,’ Luke sneers. ‘You’re the telepath, why don’t you look inside my head and see? Too afraid are you?’

‘Luke...’

‘Go on,’ Luke goads him. ‘I dare you. Use your power; for once use your power you fucking coward. Look into my head and work it fucking out.’

Matt shakes his head again. ‘No I’m not doing that. I’m not...’

‘Coward, you’re a weak, pathetic coward. Sylar would’ve done it. Sylar would’ve done it like that!’ Luke snaps his fingers.

‘I give you whatever you want, I don’t try to tie you down or control you, I don’t make any claims on you at all,’ Matt protests. ‘I’m... I’m a good person and I don’t deserve to be negatively compared to Sylar of all people!’

Luke tucks his arms in like wings and starts to crow like a chicken.

‘Shut up,’ Matt says, quietly at first. ‘Damn it Luke, shut up! I should read your mind and find out what the hell is going on there!’

‘Do it!’ Luke dresses quickly. ‘Last chance!’ he says as he heads for the door.

Don’t love me... doesn’t care what I do... let’s me do anything... don’t know where I stand... Sylar knew to keep me in line... Safer... Safer not in charge... not making the decisions...

The door slams shut behind him.



Matt’s at work when Luke calls. Knee deep in a prostitution ring that dabbles in housebreaking on the side. The caller ID on his phone shows as unknown number, which is the only reason he answers it.

‘Parkman.’

‘It’s me, Luke,’ he says in the soft, boyish voice that Matt normally can’t bring himself to yell at. ‘Um...’

‘What do you want?’

‘I wanted to see you. Is it a bad time?’

‘I don’t want to see you,’ Matt says bluntly, getting up from his desk and walking away to find somewhere private.

‘Don’t you love me anymore then?’ Luke asks quietly, sadly, as if he was half expecting this.

Matt locks himself into a storage cupboard and flicks on the light. ‘You made it perfectly clear that you despise me and have no respect for me. Why would I want to be anywhere near you?’

‘You know I never mean it when I say I hate you,’ Luke says in the same quiet tone.

‘Do I?’ Matt asks flatly. ‘You say it often enough.’

‘Because I’m stupid and I want to hurt you. I’m sorry. I love you.’

Matt shakes his head even though Luke can’t see him. ‘Are you out of money, is that why you’re calling?’

‘No, I’m good,’ Luke says, surprising him. ‘I missed you.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Look at you, getting your cynical boots on,’ Luke says, and it sounds like he’s smiling. ‘About time. I’m sorry about the motel. I was a horrible brat.’

Matt chews his lip. ‘I’m not Sylar.’

‘Good, he totally threw me away like a used tissue. You wouldn’t do that, would you Matt?’ he asks, for once sounding anxious rather than wheedling.

‘No,’ Matt says eventually. ‘Look, things have got to change. This... this thing can’t go on the way it has been. You can’t treat me the way you have been.’

‘I’m sorry.’

I don’t want you to be sorry, Matt thinks, I want you to act differently. ‘Have you got a pen? I’ll give you my address,’ he says.

‘You want me to come to your house?’ Luke asks, sounding astonished, and for the first time Matt thinks how taking him to a succession of motels might have been misconstrued.

‘I’m not married Luke, and I’m not ashamed of you. I’m ashamed of how you act sometimes.’

There’s a very long pause, and Matt wonders if Luke has had second thoughts.

‘I guess I deserve that,’ he says eventually. ‘Do you still want me to come around?’

‘Do you still want to?’

‘Yeah,’ Luke says very quietly. ‘Yeah please.’



Luke is all smiles when Matt lets him into his apartment. He kisses Matt on the cheek and wanders around the living room.

‘Have you eaten?’

‘No,’ Luke says, taking off his jacket and throwing it onto the couch.

‘Pick that up and put it on the hook,’ Matt says coolly.

‘Huh?’

Matt tucks his hands in his pockets. ‘Pick up your jacket and put it on the hook,’ he says. ‘Or you can leave.’

‘You’re throwing me out for not putting my jacket away?’ Luke asks incredulously. ‘For serious?’

‘No, I’m not throwing you out. But as obnoxious as your behaviour sometimes is, I’m partly responsible for letting you get away with it,’ Matt says carefully. ‘So I’m drawing a line in the sand, from now on there are rules and consequences. You can agree to abide by the rules or you can leave.’

‘What are you, my mom?’ Luke laughs. ‘Are you going to ground, me next?’

‘Okay.’ Matt walks over to the couch and picks up Luke’s jacket. ‘No hard feelings I hope.’ He holds the jacket out to Luke. ‘Just remember that you called me, Luke, you wanted something; money, sex, company, I don’t know. But you wanted something and you can have whatever it is, all you have to do is behave.’

Luke tucks his hands in his pockets. ‘Come on Matt...’

‘No, that’s it. No more discussion. You go or you stay, and if you stay then you do as you’re told.’

Luke grinds his toe into the carpet. ‘You’re serious? You’re going to make me behave?’

‘I gave you my terms.’

Luke rounds his shoulders and creeps forward. He silently takes the jacket from Matt and hangs it up.



‘I can’t do this... it’s difficult,’ Luke whines.

‘Sure you can, just use a little more wrist action.’

Luke throws down the scrubbing brush and looks up at Matt. ‘Can’t we just go to bed?’

‘We can, once you finish scrubbing the bathroom tiles,’ Matt says, leaning against the doorway. ‘And you say one word about what Sylar would or wouldn’t do and I’m going to be very annoyed.’

Luke opens his mouth to argue and registers the hard look in Matt’s eyes. ‘I never did this before,’ he says, picking up the brush.

‘First time for everything.’

‘You could just... spank me,’ Luke suggests hopefully.

‘Nope,’ Matt says firmly. ‘Because you’d enjoy that wouldn’t you?’

Luke blows out his breath and shrugs. ‘I never tried it. I wouldn’t mind trying.’

‘When you’ve finished the tiles then you can try it,’ Matt says, turning away.

‘Where’re you going?’ Luke demands.

‘Don’t use that tone with me,’ Matt says calmly. ‘You understand?’

‘I’m sorry, don’t throw me out!’

Matt shakes his head. ‘I’ll think of some consequences besides throwing you out. That’s going to get old quick. Now scrub the damn tiles.’

‘Yes Matt.’



Luke chews his thumb and watches anxiously as Matt looks around the bathroom.

‘Is it okay? Because I’m really hungry, and tired now and I don’t think I can do anymore!’

‘It’s fine,’ Matt says. ‘It’s better than fine, it’s good.’ He smiles as Luke preens. ‘You did a good job.’

Luke rips off his gloves and surges forward to kiss Matt but Matt catches hold of his wrists in one hand.

‘Whoa, whoa,’ he says mildly. ‘You need a shower. Have a shower and get into bed.’

‘I’ll fall asleep if I get into bed,’ Luke whines.

‘Don’t give me any backchat,’ Matt says, putting his thumb to Luke’s lips.

‘But...’

‘Strike one,’ Matt says seriously. ‘I know this is new so we’re going to start with the three strike rule. That was strike one, when you get to three strikes, you get punished.’

Luke jiggles uncertainly. ‘You’ll tell me when I get strikes?’

‘Yes, absolutely,’ Matt says, letting go of Luke’s wrists.

‘Okay,’ Luke agrees, stripping off.

‘And don’t fall asleep,’ Matt calls back as he walks out of the bathroom.



It doesn’t come automatically to him; standing firm, issuing orders. Years of being slapped down, of having his self-esteem and self-confidence eroded by his father’s cruelty, have made Matt continually default to pleasing others at the cost of himself. Oh, in an argument he’ll give as good as he gets now, he owes that to Janice’s continued refusal to let him defer and then sulk, but he’s still finding this difficult. He can argue points of view, issues, even discuss the unpleasant area of ‘feelings’, but the barrage of pure emotion Luke spews out leaves him battered and defenceless. Either Luke cuts Matt to the quick by appealing to his affectionate, protective instincts or reduces him to snivelling wreck by mercilessly attacking his vulnerabilities. It’s as if he knows exactly how to play on Matt’s emotions, which buttons to press, which targets to strike.

Matt knows an explosion is overdue. Luke’s nature means he’ll have to force the boundaries and, when rebuffed, will attack.



When Matt troops upstairs with burger and fries for them both Luke is sitting in bed, sulking. His arms are crossed and his lower lip stuck out as he watches Matt sullenly.

‘Wipe that look off your face,’ Matt says, putting the trays on the bed and getting undressed.

‘It’s not fair you making me clean your bathroom! I’ve never even been here before!’

‘That’s strike two,’ Matt says, climbing into bed. ‘I don’t have to explain myself to you. I say clean the tiles and you clean the tiles.’

Luke watches him for a long moment and then pulls one of the trays onto his lap. ‘Can we make out after?’ he asks, fluttering his eyes at Matt.

‘Are you sure you can stay awake?’ Matt asks lightly, taking a bite of his burger.

‘Yeah, I’ll take sex over sleep any day!’

‘Ahh, to be young again,’ Matt says with a smile.

‘Eh, you’re not old! Well, maybe a little. But not quite ready to be turned in for spare parts just yet!’ Luke giggles, stealing one of Matt’s fries and pulling his tongue out.

‘I’m not old, I’m matured,’ Matt retorts.

Luke smirks cutely and licks a speck of ketchup from the corner of his mouth. ‘I read a thing, article thing, said forty is the new thirty, so you’re fine.’

‘I’m thirty-eight, smart ass,’ Matt says. ‘Since when do you read articles?’

‘I hadn’t seen you in a couple of weeks. I get bored,’ Luke says with a shrug and then bumps his shoulder against Matt’s. ‘I like your place. It’s nice.’

This is the side of Luke that keeps Matt from writing him off; the sweet, fun, and affectionate side. It doesn’t surface nearly often enough for the shine to have worn off and so Matt still tries to cling on to every appearance as long as possible.



‘I was looking at those uh... those belt things that make your muscles flex?’ Luke says, settling down again in the bed. ‘Do you think they work?’

‘Nope,’ Matt says honestly. ‘Nothing’s that easy.’

‘I hate my body,’ Luke says, plucking at his stomach. ‘I look like a six year old. No hair, no muscles...’

‘Muscles are simple,’ Matt says getting out lube and condoms. ‘Lots and lots of weights.’

‘Euw!’

‘I said simple,’ Matt points out. ‘Not easy or pleasant.’ He licks his lips. ‘Roll over for me.’

‘But we do it face to face. You like face to face,’ Luke protests.

‘Well, now I want you to roll over,’ Matt says flatly.

Luke’s eyebrows rise slightly. ‘This doing as I’m told goes for bed too?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay,’ Luke says doubtfully, lying down and rolling over.

Matt drags his hands up to the headboard and secures them there with neckties. ‘I wasn’t asking your permission, Luke.’

‘Matt!’ Luke squeals.

‘It’s okay,’ Matt promises, resting his hand in the small of Luke’s back. ‘I’m not Sylar, right?’

‘Yeah,’ Luke says uncertainly, looking over his shoulder at Matt. ‘What’re you going to do to me?’

‘Anything I want,’ Matt says, stroking Luke’s hair. ‘You trust me, don’t you Luke? You’ve been with me enough haven’t you?’

Luke stares at the man he thought he knew. The man he thought was sweet and affectionate, but weak, and soft as butter.

‘Yeah,’ he says quietly. ‘I guess.’

‘Close your eyes and open your mouth.’ Matt knots handkerchiefs together, making a knot the size of his fist with two long tails.

‘What about a safeword?’ Luke asks weakly.

‘Telepath, remember?’ Matt says, taking a pillow out of its cover.

‘We still need a word!’

Matt wraps a tie around and around Luke’s eyes. ‘Calm down, what word then?’

‘I don’t... frybread.’

‘Frybread?’ Matt laughs. ‘Alright, now be quiet and open your mouth for me.’

Luke opens his mouth wide and Matt wedges the knotted material just behind his teeth. He pulls the tails behind Luke’s head and ties it securely, then carefully puts the pillowcase over his head.

Luke shivers in the darkness. It’s not supposed to be like this, it’s not supposed to be Matt in charge, he’s not supposed to be bare and helpless as hands slide over his body. Can’t move, can’t talk, can’t do anything but wait. Not even Sylar... but Sylar was never like this. Sylar TK’d him and then fucked him, and then went to sleep. Or threw him around until he was bored. He never took his time, he never ensured Luke was exhausted, confused, and hungry for attention before rending him completely helpless. He never spent an hour working out exactly how hard to slap Luke’s ass and thighs to maximise Luke’s writhing and moaning. Never worked him so close to climax that Luke was whimpering, and then refused to let him come for what felt like hours. Never fucked him slow and hard, one hand tormenting his balls the whole while.

Never let him loose and held him while he sobbed.



Don’t say you’re sorry.

Matt’s not sure whether Luke’s thinking it or it’s coming from himself but it’s pounding in his head as he unties Luke and scoops him into his arms.

‘Luke? Are you okay?’

Luke nods and wraps his arms around Matt so tightly Matt’s sure he’s going to break a rib.

‘It’s okay, I’ve got you,’ Matt promises, rubbing his back.

‘Don’t let go!’

‘I won’t let go,’ Matt says, kissing the back of his neck.

‘I’m sorry! I’m really sorry! I know I say that all the time but I really, really, am!’ he weeps.

‘Okay.’ Matt lowers him into the bed and pulls the covers up around them.

Luke looks at him with huge, red-rimmed eyes. ‘I’m shit. I know. You don’t have to say it.’

‘You’re not shit! Sometimes you’re a monstrous brat but you’re not shit!’ Matt says firmly. ‘You’ve had a rough time.’

Luke grabs a tissue from the box on the corner and blows his nose. ‘Sorry.’

‘Stop saying that,’ Matt says gently. ‘Be a nicer person. That’s repentance enough.’

Luke nods and lays his head on Matt’s shoulder. ‘And you’re nothing like Sylar.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’

‘I’ll shut up about him now,’ Luke says with a small smile.

‘That would do me fine,’ Matt says, and leans down to kiss him gently.

The End

2: Matt/Luke (like I wasn't going to request it!) - after Sylar abandons Luke, Luke somehow ends up with Matt. Luke's all bratty and a pain in the ass so Matt reads his mind and figures out that what Luke needs is a strong hand. Things get kinky (however hardcore you want) and maybe out of hand? (Not like, in a dubious consent way but in that Luke's in over his head? idk, up to you) And then there's cuddling and comfort. (Basically, it's like breaking a horse. And Luke is the horse.)