just another multi-fandom mess

"So you don't want to help me work on my startup?"

"I didn't say that. Of course I'll help. I promised you, didn't I?" you answered exasperated and poked his forehead.

Nathan scrunched up his nose in displeasure, swatting at your hand. "Then you can take the humanities classes for me. Especially the ones next week."

You raised an eyebrow in suspicion. Nathan held your gaze but his arrogant grin didn't reaching his eyes. You upheld your staring contest for a while before it dawned on you. Quickly you leaned towards him and took a deep breath through your nose, taking in his scent of sandalwood and lime.

It's just as you thought. But-

"I thought you took suppressants?"

Nathan groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Unless Big Pharma manages to make suppressants without bullshit life threatening side effects I can't take them 24/7, you know?"

"To be honest, I thought you'd be making your own suppressants by now," you teased, "Mister Genius."

Nathan gave you a deadpan look.

"Sure, because computer science, engineering and robotics have so much to do with human biology and pharmaceuticals."

You fell back onto your bed with a groan. "OK, I'll take notes for you," you replied. At least he was skipping classes for health reasons. Small mercies. "You need me to get you anything? Stock up on snacks and sports drinks?"

Nathan rested his head against the side of your bed, eyes closed. "Sure, get me some dildos too. Didn't think to smuggle any into the dorms," he mumbled.

"Of course, Mr. Bateman. How about I get you some Alphas for hire too? Are you feeling blonde, brunette or ginger today?" you asked, exaggerating your impression of a secretary from a Hollywood movie.

He turned his head towards you, meeting your gaze through his eyelashes. "That's actually not a bad idea," he admitted, his pupils widening, "Are you free next week?"

You blinked, not sure if you're supposed to take him seriously. "Even if this was a genuine proposition, how am I supposed to take notes for you when I am helping you with your heat?"

Nathan waved off your concerns. "I'll just have somebody else take notes or ask the professor for the material. She seems like the type to help with stuff like that when it's a health thing," he replied, dismissing your argument.

So he didn't even need you to take notes in the first place. That fucker.

"Wait," you pointed a finger at him, "Do you want me to help you with your heat?"

"I mean, you're hot, I'm hot. Why shouldn't we do this?"

He looked at you like you were insane for questioning him. You felt more insane for actually thinking about this. You were friends yes and casual sex is fine and good in theory. You weren't opposed but helping him through his heat? That felt more intimate than just adding benefits to your friendship.

"Have you been thinking about this before?“ you asked instead of answering his question. Nathan seemed to mull your question over for a while. You weren't sure if it was for show or if he actually took his time to collect his thoughts. After a while he simply shrugged his shoulders and made a noncommittal sound.

You're sure your eyes were bulging out of your head. You asked if he thought about having sex with you before and he just shrugged?! That arrogant little-

"As I said," he started, clearing his throat, "You're hot. Can't blame a guy for having thoughts."

"Nathan-"

"And it's just sex and I'm on contraception."

He was serious. Or at least seriously considering. His tone was aloof as always but there was something there. Maybe it's because you were one of the few people he trusted. Maybe it really was just that he found you attractive and more tolerable than the average Alpha. And more fun than spending his time alone with toys that he apparently didn't even have in his dorm.

"What about bonding? Aren't you worried about that?“

Nathan just rolled his eyes as if the subject of bonds was beneath him. He probably thought it was.

"So no biting then? Got it," you replied in a teasing tone, worried you might make this conversation more awkward otherwise.

His lips curved into a smirk, a glint in his eyes as he made eye contact with you again. "I didn't say no biting at all. I mean the chance we bond is pretty low regardless…," he trailed off, clearing his throat again and turning away from you. He wasn't wrong. An actual Mating bond was done with intent and accidental bonding was so rare the percentage rounded up to zero.

"If you're sure."

Nathan just nodded and you had a deal.

You were in charge of bringing drinks and snacks and as soon as his heat hit you'd take care of him. Nathan talked a big game when it came to sex but you were sure he was nothing you couldn't handle.

Nathan in heat was insatiable.

You're not sure if it was just the build up from so much time spent on suppressants or if this was just purely Nathan.

At first he was ridiculously clingy. Every step you took away from him he was whining like a little boy who got his toy taken away from him. There was always at least one of his hands on you at all times.

You knew his heat had fully hit when his touches grew greedier. Fingers slipping under clothes, his nose digging into the crook of your neck and then:

"Alpha," he whined, "Fuck me, please."

And you obliged. How could you not?

When you finally pushed inside until you filled him to the brim he got this big toothy grin on his face, glee and satisfaction burning through his body. You've never seen a look like that on his face before and it made your stomach flip before pushing that feeling deep down into the depths of your mind.

At the height of his heat the genius' vocabulary was reduced to three words: Harder, Faster and More.

You didn't remember much of it. Maybe it was hormones or by now just the simple passage of time. When you look back on those days there are flashes of memories: the feeling of skin against skin, the scent of his heat, his wrecked voice pleading for more and the feeling of his flesh between your teeth and your flesh between his.

You didn't remember the great flood of emotions or the deep feeling of connection that text books described following a bonding Bite. And from what you gathered after neither did Nathan.

And yet.

The day after his heat ended you could feel him. In your mind. When he got frustrated, when he stayed up for multiple days straight, when he got sick from the sushi he ate way past its expiration date - you felt him like a prickle at the back of your head.

"We're bonded," you exclaimed as you barged into his dorm room. Nathan looked at you bleary-eyed, his hangover not only visible but also felt by you since you woke up that morning.

"Well, fuck," he mumbled and pushed his head back into his pillow as if he hadn't noticed any changes since his heat.

You waited.

Nothing.

"That's it? We are bondmates and all you got is 'well fuck'?"

He barely lifted his head to glower at you with one eye. "It's just biology. It's bullshit," he grumbled, "Just chill and let me fucking sleep."

"You're unbelievable," you responded with a groan and left his dorm room again, slamming the door behind you for good measure.

You're bonded to Nathan fucking Bateman of all people.

And he didn't give a damn.

Having Nathan's moods in the back of your head was infuriating at worst, annoying at best. Thankfully with time and distance his hangovers and overall grumpy demeanor became less and less noticeable, like a fading headache.

So you decided to ignore the situation. Nathan seemed to take that approach so why shouldn't you. You hadn't thought much about romance, dating or even family planning so that was left for future you to deal with.

Not like that was going to happen with Nathan anytime soon. Not in this reality.

Ignoring the bond became a bit more difficult every time Nathan and you met. You were still friends, at least you thought so, and you had promised him to help with his start up between cramming for classes. After every encounter the connection between you flared back up again like a nasty migraine.

"Would it kill you to drink less? Your hangovers suck ass," you grumbled over your takeout. Nathan shrugged his shoulders, his mouth full of spring rolls. You sighed in annoyance, pinching the bridge of your nose.

"So, BlueBook…"

Nathan swallowed down his food hastily, nodding.

"Why that name? Because you like blue and want to make a new Facebook?"

He grimaced and gave you the stink eye. "Don't even put that dipshit Zuckerberg on my level. Fucking hack," he spat out and crossed his arms like an angry toddler.

You raised your hands in defense. "Alright, alright. I won't mention it again," you replied, slightly annoyed by the spike of irritation at the back of your mind that wasn't yours.

"It's a search engine," he corrected you, "Or it will be. The best one. Better than all the shit that's online now." He turns quiet for a moment. "That's only the start. I do have even bigger plans, you know?" he mutters.

You nodded solemnly, very careful not to get him going again just to spare yourself from another headache. Instead of talking you returned your focus back on your food. The silence quickly turned awkward however.

But you weren't the first to break it.

"I'm thinking about dropping out. Focus on BlueBook full-time."

You nearly choked on your fried noodles. "What do you mean? What about your degree?"

Nathan sighed, clearly irritated by your questions. He gave you a deadpan stare before continuing. "You know I am only getting a degree so those idiots take me seriously. I can be as smart as they come but just because I'm an Omega they'll try everything to get my shit and boot me out of everything I built."

You gritted your teeth. He wasn't wrong. Society was still a far cry from treating all genders, primary or secondary, equally. Of course under the law everyone was equal but in the history of mankind that had never stopped people from discrimination or just being plain old assholes.

"So why not get the degree? Why not play it safe?"

You felt his anger before you saw his mouth turn into scowl. "Because I shouldn't have to!" he growled.

He shouldn't have to. You knew that but that didn't change the situation. There was no doubt in you that if anybody, Omega or not, could do what he planned to do, it would be Nathan. But you didn't want him to have to fight his way through all this bullshit. At least not alone.

"Alright. Let's say you drop out. Would having an Alpha with a degree as your partner help?" You looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk on your lips, trying to lighten the mood. He looked at you, eyes blinking in astonishment.

"So you can kick annoying Alphas in the ass while I get to focus on my work?"

"Figuratively speaking yes."

A wide grin spread across his lips, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Deal."

He didn't drop out or at least you didn't talk about it again after that. Nathan was on his way to be an Omega Boss Bitch, degree or no degree.

He would be achieving his goal faster if he didn't keep partying all the time. You were simply worried about his career. It didn't phase you at all that he kept walking around stinking of other Alphas. That he spent most of his time with anybody but you. Having fun with people that weren't you. You weren't jealous or anything. Not at all. Not one bit.

It didn't phase you.

But it drove you fucking insane.

You knew Nathan didn't take your bond seriously. "Fuck Biology" and all that. But before Nathan would rarely seek out Alphas to even casually talk to. And suddenly now that he was bonded he couldn't jump from knot to knot quickly enough?

It felt targeted. A big neon sign spelling out how little you meant to him on a biological level.

You're not special. I can get this from any person off the street. This doesn't mean anything.

And it hurt more than you were able to put into words. Like some unseen force squeezing your lungs and punching you in the gut at the same time. Over and over and over again.

Nathan Bateman would be the death of you. Maybe a clean cut would be better.

You realized that when Nathan crashed your hangout with your friends that weren't accidentally bonded to you.

You had felt antsy all day, the bond acting up again in new and exciting ways. Nathan's heat was close but given how he never asked you to help him through his time again you didn't offer either. Dealing with Nathan could be a headache on a good day. Better to avoid it when possible. So chatting and having drinks with other friends who weren't Nathan was exactly what you needed.

One second you were chatting passionately about the latest movie you watched and the next you had a very handsy, very drunk Nathan plastered to your side.

"Nathan? What the fuck?" you mumbled, confused why he was here all of a sudden, trying to bury his face into the crook of your neck.

"Fuck, you smell so good," he groaned, either completely ignoring you or unaware that you said something. He reeked. Not only of sweat and alcohol but pheromones too. And not just the sickly cloying scent of Nathan's heat, but Alpha pheromones. Your stomach twisted into knots, something between betrayal and disgust clawing at your insides, as you made out the scents of multiple different Alphas clinging to him. A sudden flash of nausea made you grimace, unable to hide your reaction. Without looking you felt the confused and pitying looks of your friends. You quickly apologized to them, promising to make up for cutting your evening short, before dragging Nathan out of the booth.

He followed easily enough even though he stumbled over his own feet multiple times because he refused to let go of you even for a moment. Every few steps he rubbed himself on you like a cat begging for pets. Your anger and nausea was only slightly soothed by the knowledge that this way he would once again smell more like you.

"What the hell were you thinking?" you hissed, dragging Nathan back to his dorm room, "Or were you thinking at all?" Having an Omega in heat, your Omega in heat, pressed against you so closely, did not make it easy to keep a clear head. You were furious at him for suddenly showing up like this after ignoring you and your bond for months after your first (and last) time together. But your anger clashed with the intense arousal boiling up inside you, every whiff of his heat adding fuel to the fire.

"Need you," Nathan mumbled as you not so gently pushed him onto his bed and his ass hit the mattress. He tipped forward, his forehead resting against your stomach. "Those idiots can't fuck for shit. Felt bad."

"What, they couldn't find your prostate?“ you replied sardonically, rolling your eyes.

"Made me feel sick. Wrong," he slurred and you felt a pang of guilt adding to the irritating mix of emotions. Not because you did something wrong but because Nathan's stubbornness didn't hurt only you but himself as well. Of course Nathan would try to ignore your bond and hop on the next available Alpha's knot just to prove he was above his biology. As if your bond was some negligible quirk of nature he could ignore. He'd rather get sick to his stomach instead of spending time with you or even dissolve the bond. Nathan was incredibly stupid for a genius, you had always known that. It shouldn't hurt so much that for all his intelligence he didn't think about your feelings even once.

You felt his face rub against your crotch, your increasingly swelling cock throbbing in response to finally getting the attention you were denied. With every touch more and more blood rushed to your length. With a gasp you pull his face away from you. "No! Bad Omega!"

Nathan looked at you with wide eyes, shiny with gathering tears. The sight opened a pit in your stomach and you felt sick again. Denying your Omega felt so wrong but you couldn't let this game of hot and cold continue. "Please, Alpha. I'll be good. I'll suck your cock so good, promise," he whimpered, his mouth falling open in demonstration, forming a perfect O.

You cursed under your breath. "Nathan, you can't just…you're drunk! I am not going to fuck your face when you're drunk!"

Nathan moaned, only hearing the part he wanted to hear, "Please fuck my face." He tried to push his face back into your crotch but you stopped him. This wasn't going to work. You couldn't handle Nathan ignoring you until he got drunk during his heat and remembered that he conveniently had a bonded Alpha to fuck him like he wanted. It was too much. You couldn't be his friend with benefits. That was clear to you now. Maybe you couldn't even be his friend anymore.

"You know what? I can't do this," you sighed in defeat. Even through the heat Nathan seemed to understand the gravity of your words. He looked so lost and helpless. That look in his eyes burned itself into your mind. You did your best to remain calm despite your raging erection and put Nathan to bed, placing a few bottles of water and energy bars on his nightstand where he could reach them. Then you left, feeling his gaze on you. Faintly you heard your name being called or maybe it was just "Alpha" but either might have simply been your imagination.

It hurt. More than you had thought it would. Sleep escaped you and you felt miserable, guilt gnawing at you relentlessly. His helpless expression haunted your dreams.

You didn't see Nathan on campus anymore after that night. After a while, once your anger had passed, you went to his dorm room to apologize and reconcile, to try and explain how you felt and to maybe actually have a conversation about what your shared bond meant to you. But you were swiftly informed that Nathan had dropped out.

Ignoring the bond got easier then even if sleeping didn't. You never thought about breaking the bond, a small part of you cherishing it like a secret treasure. Something your very own even if your feelings were not reciprocated. Breaking the bond felt just as wrong as keeping it in place. But you got used to the aching feeling like a phantom limb.

It hurt a little when you saw his face again years later. Not in person but on your phone screen: The founder of BlueBook, genius and elusive hermit Nathan Bateman. But you were glad, so very glad he did what he had set out to do even though you weren't there with him like you had both imagined. Every time you saw him on the news you thought of that one night. Every touch, every word. You replayed the memories in your head countless times thinking of all the ways it could have ended differently.

That night was the last time you had talked to Nathan.

“What’s this one for?” Marc lightly tapped the tattoo on your bicep with the tip of his nose and snuggled a little closer to you in bed, his chest against your back. 

“Oh, that one?” 

“Hmm.” He pressed his lips to the spot before he rubbed his cheek against you. 

“That one gives me the ability to tell the future.” You say playfully. 

Marc snorts, “oh yeah?” 

“Yeah.” You nod. 

“Steven says that’s bullshit.” 

You turn to look him in the face over your shoulder. “No way Steven would say that.”

“What? He swears all the time?” Marc grins. 

“Yeah,” you can’t help but smile back, breaking your pretend outrage, “that’s true, but he’d say ‘that’s shit’, bullshit is too American.” 

Marc chuckles and snakes his hand down to pinch your side a little, just enough to make you laugh and squirm. His other arm holds you tight against his body. “How would you like some American in you?” 

You laugh harder. “Marc, that’s terrible.” 

“You love it.” He kisses the spot where your neck meets your shoulder and purposefully bites down gently. Hard enough to make you squirm again and push back against his hardening cock. 

“So,” he mumbles in your ear, “you gonna tell me the meaning behind this one or…?”

“Is that a threat Spectre?”

He grins again against your shoulder. 

“I think you’re not actually interested in what it means.” You tease, purposefully scooting forward a little when he tries to grind against your backside. 

Marc’s fingers twitch around you, his left hand going to your hip to hold you still, but you wiggle away from him. 

“I think you’re preoccupied with something else.” 

“What?” He tries his best to keep the amusement out of his voice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shifts closer to you again and you bend back, bowing outward so that he still can’t rut against you. 

“Oh really?” You tease. 

He growls playfully at you, pulling you back towards him with a gentle, but firm strength, until you are flush against his chest. 

He silences your next teasing retort by swiftly sneaking his hand down the front of your pyjamas.

“Marc,” you moan, your voice hitching up at the end as he lightly pinches your clit. You press back against him, your legs instinctively inching wider. 

“Oh, so now you wanna be close, huh?” 

You give him a look over your shoulder accompanied by a frustrated grunt that earns you a chuckle and a kiss on the nape of your neck. 

He rolls your clit slowly between his thumb and forefinger, adding just the right amount of pressure to have you keening and rocking back against his aching cock. 

Marc gasps, letting out a low grumbily moan as you press against his sensitive tip. Precum is smearing against his stomach and soaking a wet patch into his boxers. 

Despite how you push back against him, your movements starting to border on frantic as heat begins to build and build in your stomach, he keeps up his languid, tortuous pace. Often, he likes it best like this. Slow and drawn out to almost the point of pain until the dam breaks. Makes it feel like he’s useful, like he’s doing a good job. Frantically trying to hold himself together, gripping onto the last pieces of his self-control until pleasure pulls him down into blissful mindlessness. 

He dips the tip of his forefinger lower, just teasing at your entrance before sliding back up as he muffles his moans at your wetness into your bare shoulder. 

But it seems you have other ideas. 

You turn your head, just enough to give him a messy kiss that’s all tongue and teeth, the glide of your lips on his own quickly pulls a desperate moan from his chest. You hook your fingers into your waistband and pull your pyjamas down, kicking them off the last bit of the way. 

He growls as you press back against him and sneak your hand back to stroke him twice over his boxers, revelling in his little whimpered shiver, before you slide under the material and eagerly run your fingers over his hard, velvet length. 

His grip tightens on your waist for a moment before he moves closer, plunging two fingers inside of you in one quick motion. 

You gasp in surprise as he strokes your walls, pleasure blossoming along your spine. 

Marc moans against your shoulder, nipping and biting softly at your skin as he muffles himself. “So wet… fuck…” He bucks mindlessly against you for a second, focusing completely on the feel of you squeezing around his thick fingers and your little whimpered groans as you press your face into the pillow. 

His caress is dizzying, maddening as he purposefully goes the smallest fraction slower than what you want, what you need. Obsessed with seeing you writhe and beg for him. 

“Marc, please,” You buck up against him, grabbing hold of his arm to try to keep him at the angle that makes you see stars. 

He groans low, lightheadedness washing over him as you beg and his dick twitches. “Baby, please can we…” He bites his lip, screwing his eyes closed and he swallows down what he wants to say, hoping you were too caught up in your own pleasure to have heard him. 

But even as your hips move and breathing hitches you turn to look at him over your shoulder. “What do you need?” 

He sinks his teeth into his lip harder and shakes his head ever so slightly. 

“Marc,” the low, desperate edge to your voice makes him whine. 

“Can you ignore me?” He blurts out, heat rising to his cheeks and blistering his skin. 

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-

You slow your hips, halting his hand's movements and Marc wants to go find a ditch to bury himself in, but your sweet voice makes him open his eyes. 

“Ignore you?” There’s no judgement, but he still hides his face and presses his forehead against your back. 

“Hmmm.” 

“Sweetheart,” you stroke his hair. “Tell me please.” 

He breathes a heavy sigh against your skin before blurting out. “Can you ignore me while I fuck you for as long as you can?” 

You smile, “you’d like that?” 

There’s a little spark of hope in his chest that makes his dick throb. “Yes.” He whispers. 

“Okay. How do you want me?” 

Marc moves quicker than you thought possible and you almost laugh at his eagerness, but stop yourself from fear that he would take it the wrong way. 

He carefully positions you on the bed, on your stomach with a pillow under your hips to prop them up slightly. He leans over you for a second, softly placing his hands on your thighs and spreading them slightly. A shiver of anticipation runs up your spine. 

But he quickly stops, leaning to the side and taking your book off the bedside table. “Could you, erm, read this? Or pretend to read it?” 

The uncertainty in his voice is so sweet, gentle, like a fine dusting of snow. You nod as you take the book out of his hands and turn to a random, previously read, page. 

“Thank you,” he mutters and kisses your shoulder blade before trailing down your back and pressing his lips against every tattoo he can reach. 

Marc waits for a moment apprehensively, just watching you read, taking in the way you have propped yourself up a little so that you can easily hold the book, before he pulls off his boxers and takes himself in hand. 

He tries to be as quiet as moves between your legs, spreading them over so slightly wider as he slowly runs his hand along his dick and just teases at his slit with the tip of his thumb. But he can’t stop his breath from hitching as he sees your arousal shining in the weak light. 

He swallows and inches forward on his knees, gradually leaning down to run the head of his cock through your soaking folds. 

He feels your shiver, the way your muscles instinctively clench around him, but you stay silent, your eyes glued to the words on the page even though for the life of you, you can’t focus on what you are seeing.

Carefully Marc notches his fat tip at your entrance, breathing through his nose as he painstakingly slowly pushes inside. 

Your walls squeeze around him, pulling him further in and welcoming him home. And he can’t stop the gasp of pleasure that tumbles out of his lips. He grabs your hip, just to steady himself, just to focus as the pleasure twists so tightly in his stomach. 

He glances at the back of your head for a second, biting down hard on his bottom lip to control himself as he bottoms out. 

You turn the page and carry on pretending to read. 

Marc whines, his arousal making him lightheaded and can’t resist any longer. He slowly pulls out before pushing himself back in, leaning down so that his right hand rests on the mattress while his left still holds your hip. 

The pace is moderate, at first. The only sounds are the slick wetness as he steadily fucks you, punctuated by his little gasps and moans that he tries so hard to swallow down. 

He changes the angle on each trust, trying to find the perfect spot. 

Your grip tightens on the book as he hits it, your thighs clenching, back arching ever so slightly. But you bite your teeth together and manage somehow to stop your cry of pleasure. 

Marc shivers as your body reacts but you don’t, a low and pathetic whine grumbling out from his throat as he increases his thrusts and focuses on that spot. On hitting it perfectly every time. He can feel you shake, the smallest shift as you push back against him ever so slightly, trying to stop yourself from going too far. All to indulge him. And his resolve snaps. 

He moans loudly, thrusting up into you hard and moving your thighs further apart so he can watch himself disappearing into your tight, wet heat. 

“Oh fuck, fuck,” he can’t stop himself now, can’t help the words from spilling out. “Fuck, you don’t even know I’m here, do you? Don’t even care that I’m fucking you, because,” he gasps as you clench around him, “because I’m so small you can’t even tell,” he starts thrusting rapidly, pounding into you and you see stars, “can’t even,” he moans loudly, his voice dissolving into a whiney needy breathy mess, and for some reason a sharp spark of arousal slides along your skin. “I can’t even make you cum, I can’t-”

You moan loudly, your pretence of reading the book abandoned as you can’t hold back any longer as he continuously hits so perfectly deep. The force of his thrusts rock you against the pillow under your hips, dragging your clit across the cotton and making you scream. 

“Oh shit!” Marc’s grip on you tightens, his eyes rolling back in his head as you clench and gush around him, your orgasm being ripped ruthlessly from your bones as he fucks you perfectly. 

“Baby, fuck,” he cums inside, filling you up to the brim. His hips keep moving, fucking you through your orgasm even as overstimulation prickles along his skin and makes him whine. 

It’s only when you reach back and grab his hand, pulling him towards you that he finally stops and collapses on top of you. 

He quickly goes to move to the side, but you squeeze his hand. “Stay here.” 

“I’m not squashing you am I?” 

You shake your head. “Feels comfy.” 

He chuckles and kisses your cheek. You can still tell he’s leaning slightly on his left arm and leg, not wanting to put his whole weight on you. 

A little awkwardly you manage to coax him into relaxing on top of you. 

“Was that…” he swallows nervously as he traces the tattoo on your ribs. “I hope that was okay for you…”

You smile. “I didn’t know your dick was so small I couldn’t even feel you.”

He groans a little and buries his head into your neck, but he’s chuckling.

You pause for only a second before you continue. “I liked it.” 

“You did?” 

“Yeah, I liked that you were all whiney.” 

He snorts. 

“I didn’t know you liked that.”

“Liked what?” He asks.

“Being ignored.” 

“Oh… I don’t know.” He pauses. “It’s just… it’s like I can’t control anything, that what I do doesn’t matter so I just have to let go?” 

You nod and squeeze his hand. 

“Would you… be up for doing it again maybe?” 

You turn just enough so that you can kiss his face. “Of course.” 

____________________________________

Thank you for reading!

@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial @lonelyisamyw-0love @melodygatesauthor @steven-grants-world  @eyelessfaces @angel-of-the-moons @minigirl87 @queerponcho

The man frowns. "Why aren't you back with the other guests? Wasn't there anyone on our stage tonight that caught your eye?"

"Not unless one of them was hiding a dick and balls under their pretty outfits," you say, hoping your bluntness will make him walk away.

The man's lips part in surprise, but he quickly recovers and lets out a low chuckle. "Nothing like that on the menu, but I can get you another drink." He snaps at the waitress, who rushes to make you a refill.

You sigh to yourself and mentally mark your place in the article you were reading before folding your paper neatly and tucking it inside your jacket.

The waitress rushes over and slides a fresh drink in front of you with a sweeter smile than she's had all night, obviously trying to please you in front of her boss. "Another soda for you, sir."

"Thank you," you murmur, keeping your eyes on the owner.

The man raises one eyebrow. "You know we can get you something stronger than that. Your boss wants to make sure we take care of his boys."

You don't put much effort into hiding a smirk. "I would, but as I said before, I'm the driver. Don't look good for the Mayor to get pulled over after a nice night out like this because his driver's swerving all over the road."

That gets a blush from him. "Ah, right. Of course."

His dark eyes track your gloved hand as you raise your half-empty glass for a sip. You frown a little, confused by his lingering presence and staring. Geez, is this guy that thirsty?

You gesture to the seat across from you; he takes the hint and sits down. "Look, Mr. Jones - it's Jones, right?" you ask. Your free hand slides the fresh drink over in front of him.

He pulls his gaze away from your hand on his glass with some effort. "Yes, Blue Jones."

You nod and release the glass slowly, watching with curiosity as his eyes continue to track the retreat of your gloved fingers.

You clear your throat. "Mr. Jones."

His eyes snap up to your face guiltily, like you just called him out for sleeping in class.

"I don't normally go inside on these outings; only reason I'm here tonight is the boss asked me to, said he didn't want me waiting in the cold," you say with a sarcastic grin. "I'm aware that the boss organizes this particular night out every year as a 'thank you' to us boys. Maybe he genuinely wants us to have a good time, maybe he doesn't like giving out checks for holiday bonuses." You make a dismissive gesture with your hand. "Now, I'm quite content here with my free soda and my paper, and as soon as the rest of 'em get done with your extra services and head back out here, I'll make my way out and start the car. Boss don't like a cold car. And when he gets in that warm car, all drunk and all his money spent, he's gonna ask me if I had a nice night. I'll be sure to tell him how generous he is for treating us all to a night out like this, how this is the nicest place, best waitress, blah blah blah." You pause, enjoying the frown on Blue Jones' face. It's a little endearing how desperate he is, but you relent and give him a reassuring smile. "So you don't gotta worry and shadow me like this, Mr. Jones. I like this place a lot more than the other ones in town, and I know my lines just fine."

Blue tentatively takes your gloved hand and shakes it. "Driver. Please call me Blue." He squeezes your hand, keeping it in his a moment longer. "And if you would like to come back on your day off, I'll buy you something stronger to drink. As an apology for disturbing your peace," he says with a winning smile.

Blue lets out a breath and his shoulders slump with relief as he begins to babble. "Of course, I meant no disrespect…or, uh, I didn't mean to bother you. Your patronage is important, er, that is, I'm glad you enjoy…" He clears his throat and takes a deep breath. "Thank you, Mister…?"

You smile more warmly and hold out a hand to him. "You can just call me Driver."

You raise an eyebrow and squeeze his hand back before releasing it. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the first of the mayor's entourage returning to the main hall. You down the rest of your soda and stand. "See you Tuesday, then, Blue."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~💙🎙️💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tuesday

Blue forces himself to take another deep breath. His anxiety has been building ever since you agreed to return on Tuesday. He keeps replaying the conversation, mentally kicking himself for how stupid he sounded. Did you notice him staring at your gloves? You must have. He had already been a little drunker than normal from entertaining the mayor. He had sensed you didn't want to be bothered, but he kept talking anyway.

Blue barely holds himself back from peeking through the curtain to see if you are in the audience. If he doesn't get it together, he's going to make a fool of himself on stage. Maybe it's better if you aren't here after all…

The familiar sounds of the pre-show rush backstage help him stay in the moment. Blue manages to bury his nervous energy under the high he gets from performing. As soon as the curtain raises, he's in his element, barely even wondering if you're somewhere in the audience he can't see past the blinding spotlight.

As soon as he steps offstage, his anxiety returns. He forces his legs to move, walking out to the floor to greet patrons, like he always does. He studiously ignores the table in the back corner, the one you sat at last time; instead, Blue makes himself talk and entertain, like any other day. If he's a little too enthusiastic with his greetings, they don't seem to notice. Tuesdays are usually slow, and tonight is no different; there are only a few familiar faces to glad-hand. Once he's done, Blue finally allows his gaze to travel to the back corner. His breath catches in his chest as he spots you seated exactly where he thought you would be.

Instead of reading a newspaper, you seem to be people-watching, eyes moving casually from one group of patrons to another. You already have a drink in front of you. One hand rests casually in your lap, the other on the table, and you're wearing those damned driving gloves…. Blue barely stifles a groan. He's practically shaking as he forces himself to walk towards your table.

"Mr. Driver," Blue greets you too brightly.

Your gaze shoots up to him, but you smile this time instead of frown. "Blue," you nod and wave at the other chair, inviting him to sit with you.

Blue couldn't move the smile from his face if he wanted to. "What are you drinking?" he asks as he sits down. "Something stronger, I hope?"

You chuckle. "Yes, something stronger." You pause as the waitress brings Blue a drink, watching as he knocks it back quickly and asks for another. "You looked good on stage. Do you run the same show every night?" you ask politely.

Blue feels a flush of warmth at your casual compliment. "Thanks. We change it up throughout the year, but otherwise it's the same each night of the week. Unless it's a holiday or something."

The waitress drops another drink in front of Blue. This one he only sips, using it more as a prop to keep his hand from shaking.

"Don't tell me you dress up as Santa for the holidays?" you ask with a teasing grin.

Blue laughs shortly. "It's more of a nod to it than anything. Red suit, black shoes…"

"Gloves?" you ask with a mischievous look in your eyes.

Blue smiles nervously. "Uh, no, no gloves. Don't really need them on stage."

You nod slowly, still smirking a little. "Do you like gloves, Blue?"

His heart feels like it's going to burst out of his chest. "What do you mean? Gloves are just gloves, right?"

You tilt your head to the side a little as you regard him. "Oh I don't know. Gloves can be a game changer. These ones I have?" You hold up one of your hands to show him.

Blue swallows hard and nods.

"They protect my hands, of course, keep them from drying out and splitting in this winter cold, but they also give me a little protection, mentally. I don't have to feel every single thing I touch throughout the day."

Blue's eyes track your fingers, mesmerized by the thought of how they would feel if he touched them. When you stop talking, he nods quickly.

You chuckle low in your chest. "Do you want to feel them, Blue?" you ask quietly.

His eyes dart to your face. Did you just read his mind? His mouth is suddenly dry, and he doesn't trust himself to answer past a small nod.

You reach a hand out across the table and brush two fingers over the back of his hand.

Blue squeezes his eyes shut, barely choking down a moan at the soft, smooth feel of the leather.

"Feels good, right?" you ask softly.

"Y-yes," he croaks out.

"Do you want to wear them?"

Blue's eyes fly open, looking at you with shock. These are your gloves; they won't feel the same on his hands, won't bring this aching need. "No," he says quickly. "Thank you," he adds.

You smile warmly at him. "Ok. Is there somewhere we can go?"

You nod, seemingly unperturbed by his abrupt shift. "Do you want me to touch you more with my gloves on, Blue?"

Blue feels lightheaded, practically dizzy at your suggestion. He barely nods a little. "Yes, please," he hears himself say.

Blue stands up and waits for you to do the same. He turns and heads towards the back of the club, glancing behind frequently to make sure you're following him. As soon as you're both out of sight of the main floor, you rest a hand on his back. Blue gasps at the contact.

"I'm with you, Blue," you murmur as you continue following him.

Blue stops in front of a door and unlocks it with the key around his neck. It isn't until he ushers you in and closes the door behind him that he realizes you're in his office. Shit, why did he do that? Why didn't he bring you to one of the client rooms?

You look around curiously. "This your office? It's nice," you say softly.

"Thank you," Blue says automatically.

"I kind of assumed you would bring me to a room with a bed," you add, raising an eyebrow.

Blue squeezes his eyes shut, nodding. "I panicked," he admits quietly.

"That's ok. This is probably a comfortable place for you, right?" you ask.

Blue opens his eyes. You don't look upset or like you're mocking him. He nods slowly.

You put your hands in your jacket pockets. "Can I ask you some questions before we go any further?"

Blue focuses on your face. "Of course."

"How much have you had to drink tonight?"

Blue counts mentally. "Four. One before the show, two around the floor, one with you at the table…and I sipped the other one, so maybe four and a half?"

"Dinner?" you ask.

"I eat a late lunch a little before the show, then usually again after everyone leaves," he explains. "Why, are you hungry?"

"I could eat, but that's not why I asked. Just wanted to make sure your head is clear. Don't want you regretting anything tomorrow," you say.

Blue gives one of his stage smiles. "What's there to regret? We're not doing anything wrong."

You chuckle. "No, we're not," you agree, taking a step closer.

Your hands are still in your pockets; Blue's eyes trace your lips instead.

"How far do you want to go, Blue?" Your voice is firm and clear.

Blue's smile falters. "What do you mean?"

"Do you have a limit, an area or touch you don't want? We can adjust as we go, of course, but if there's something you know you don't want to happen, I'd like to know about it going in."

Blue looks away as he considers your question. He didn't have put much thought into what he might want past getting more of your gloved touch on him. If it feels as good on the rest of his body as it did on his hand, he'll probably agree to anything to keep feeling it. "No, no limits," he declares eagerly.

You nod. "We'll take it slow, then. I don't want to be choked or have my hair pulled."

Blue nods in understanding.

"Can I sit here?" you ask, gesturing to the couch on the far side of the room.

Blue nods. "Yeah…uh, yes," he says more clearly.

You pull your hands out of your pockets and sit on the couch, resting your palms on your thighs. "Do you want to sit with me?" Your eyebrows raise in a questioning look.

Blue walks over and plants his hands on the back of the couch. He watches your face carefully as he moves to straddle your lap, one knee braced on either side of your hips.

You grin at his sudden boldness. "Get comfortable. I can take your weight."

Blue tentatively lowers himself to sit fully on your lap. He can feel your dick underneath him, already as hard as his own. Blue bites his lip.

"There you go, sweetheart," you murmur. Your hand moves up to brush against his cheek.

Blue groans and leans into the touch.

"Feels good?" you ask with a wide grin.

He nods and turns his face slightly, taking a deep breath and shivering at the smell of the leather. Your other hand moves up to his jacket.

"Can you take this off for me?" you ask.

Blue quickly pulls off his jacket, tossing it behind him. He removes his tie and tosses it away as well. Then he watches you closely as he begins to unbutton his shirt.

You laugh. "Good idea. I'm not so good at those tiny buttons with my gloves on."

Blue grins a little and keeps working on his shirt. When he gets the last one off, he hesitates. "Would you take it off of me, please?"

"Yes." You push both hands under the open edges and against his stomach.

Blue closes his eyes and moans. He tries not to squirm as your hands slide slowly up over his chest, then tease at his neck before sliding over his shoulders, slipping his shirt off as they go. He gasps at the way your hands follow the fabric down his arms, pushing it away from his body and pressing the glorious feeling of your gloves into his skin. For a moment, he has a sense that his shirt has been replaced with a new one that feels like your gloves. The image makes him tingle all over and wriggle on your lap.

Your answering gasp makes Blue open his eyes in alarm. Did he hurt you somehow? No, your face is only twisted in surprised concentration for a brief moment, then you meet his gaze and flash him a warm smile.

"Wasn't ready for you to move like that, but it felt good," you assure him.

Blue grins. "Should I do it again?"

"Not yet. Let me finish undressing you first." You watch him closely as you trail a hand down to his thighs. Blue's eyes go wide as you gently touch his cock through his pants. He moans and writhes with each light pass of your hand.

"You want me to touch your dick?" you ask.

He nods rapidly, moaning out an affirmative sound.

"Open your pants."

Blue's hands shake as he unbuttons his fly. He looks to you for further instructions.

"Raise up a little," you order.

Blue shifts his weight up to his knees. You slowly slide one hand under his boxers and down around his balls. Blue makes a choked sound that turns into a whimper as you carefully pull his boxers down enough to free him completely.

"You can sit back down now," you tell him.

Blue cautiously lowers his weight onto your lap again.

"Good boy."

Your praise zips down his spine and makes him moan. Blue bites his lip and closes his eyes, suddenly shy about his strong reaction.

"Hey, look at me," you order quietly.

Blue opens his eyes and meets your worried gaze.

"If you don't like that, I won't say it, alright?" you supply.

Blue shakes his head. "I liked it," he whispers.

You relax back against the couch. "Good. Thank you for telling me." You rest your hands on his thighs. "Can I make you come now?"

Blue nods eagerly.

You brush a gloved hand over his length, making him groan and squirm. "Alright if I talk dirty to you?"

A loud moan escapes his lips. "Yes!"

"Hmm, maybe I should make you do the talking?" you muse. "You were so eager to talk the first time we met," you tease.

"Yeah, I can…but it's…it's just talk, ok?" Blue stammers nervously. "If I say I'll do something, ask for something, I'm not…" he swallows hard.

You still your hands on him, giving him room to breathe.

"I'm not really asking for more, even if I say it," he explains.

"Sure thing! I promise I'm not going to fuck you, even if you say it. My hands will only go where they've already touched tonight," you assure him.

Blue sighs with relief. "Thank you."

You nod. "Ready?"

"Please." Your hands start moving on him again. "Please," he groans louder. You slide two fingers under his shaft. "Please!" he cries out.

"Please what, sweetheart?" you tease as you continue touching him.

"Please! Ahhhhh, please touch me, please let me come on your gloves!" Blue groans out.

Your eyes light with interest. "Yeah? You want to make a mess on my nice, soft gloves?"

Blue nods rapidly. "Can I, please? Please, I'll be so good if you let me!"

"Oh? What does being good mean, Blue?" You sweep one hand lower to cup his balls.

Blue jolts in surprise. "I'll be good, I'll be…nngh whatever you want me to be, do whatever you want!"

"And what do you think I want?" you press, wrapping one hand more firmly around his cock.

"To…to f-fuck me," he suggests.

"Is that what you want, Blue? You want me to bend you over your desk and spread you open, rub these gloves all over your juicy ass?"

Blue bucks in your hold. "Fuck, yes!" He leans forward and kisses you, bracing his hands on your shoulders. His tongue pushes against your lips, slipping inside as soon as you give him entry. He moans into your mouth with each pass of your hands over his skin. He pulls back with an impatient huff as you turn your head to the side.

"Hey, Blue. I think we should stop and get some lube for you. If I squeeze much harder, you're going to end up with rug burn," you explain.

Blue groans and bucks hard into your hand. "I don't care! I want it to hurt! Please, don't stop! I want this so much!"

"You like pain?"

Blue looks up sharply, worried about your reaction, but your expression only shows curiosity.

"Would you like to be spanked with the gloves?" you continue.

Blue whimpers as pleasure spikes through him.

"Is that a yes?" you ask with a breathless laugh.

Blue thrusts into your hand. "Yes!"

"Are you gonna come, Blue? Gonna come on my glove from thinking about me spanking you?"

Blue grips your wrist, holding your hand in place while he rocks into your glove. "Fuck yes, can I? Can I come?"

"You want my permission?"

Blue slides a hand down to pet at your dick through your pants, thinking maybe he can convince you that way.

You moan but remove his hand gently, bringing it up to your lips and kissing his knuckles briefly. "Answer me, Blue. Do you want my permission to come?"

Blue meets your gaze and nods. "Please. Please can I come, sir?"

"You can come, Blue," you murmur.

He gasps and rubs harder against your hand.

"You had better come, sweetheart, or I'll have to spank this disobedient ass," you threaten softly. Your free hand slides around to his ass and squeezes.

Blue's eyes go wide as he comes suddenly. His cries sound loud in the small space of his office. Collapsing against your chest, he buries his face in your neck. Soft whimpers vibrate over your skin as you pull your hand away from his dick and slide the gloves off. Your bare hands on his back feel odd at first, but Blue slowly relaxes under the calming touch.

"Good job, Blue. You came so pretty for me," you praise.

He chuckles against your neck. "Pretty, huh?" he croaks out, voice rough from screaming.

You hum your amusement. "I always think it's pretty to see. I'll pick a different word, if you don't like that one." You tap his back twice. "Let's get cleaned up and get you some water before I go."

"Don't you want…?" Blue begins.

"Blue, you don't even want to move right now," you note. You push him up enough to see his face. "How are you going to do anything for me like this?"

Blue bites his lip, suddenly feeling uncertain. Are you annoyed with him? Do you think he's selfish? Will you leave and never come back?

"If you feel that bad about it, you can make it up to me next time," you say with a grin. "Maybe get us a room with a bed?"

Blue lets out a relieved sigh. "Yeah, I can do that."

"Alright." You lean forward and kiss him slowly.

Blue moans happily into your mouth before pulling back to look at you. "Hey, I want to tell you something," he says, expression serious.

You shift your own tone to match his somber demeanor. "I'm listening."

He bites his lip briefly. "I have a thing for gloves." Blue releases the smile he was trying to hide.

You break into laughter. "No fucking shit, Sherlock! I figured that out after the first time we talked!"

Blue throws his arms around your back, enjoying how your amusement rumbles through your chest.

"Mmmm, and just to be clear, I'm completely good with that. I wouldn't have come back and offered this if I wasn't good with it," you assure him.

Blue sighs deeply, relieved to hear you say it out loud. "Do you have a thing for anything special?" he asks.

He can hear your smile in your voice. "I guess you'll just have to find out."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~💙🎙️💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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