#nathan bateman

You hurried the way she’d came, down the steps, then up, unlocking the glass door, then down again, into the basement, rushing to where you saw your boss slumped in the hall.

You quickly tugged off your t-shirt and staunched Nathan’s front, your knees in a puddle of blood as wide as he was tall.

His breathing was ragged, barely there.

“Nathan look at me speak please open your eyes open don’t fall asleep. Nathan!”

He murmured your name, hardly able to focus on you, glassy eyes staring up into yours with the deepest I fucked up you’ve ever seen on him.

“K… kill. Kill code.”

You pressed his hand as hard as you could against his chest around the knife, pulled his hand to, told him to hold it, and hurried past the shouting Caleb to Nathan’s room. He ran, you didn’t see where.

Nathan’s eyes followed you till you were out of sight, but he couldn’t lift his head any longer.

Everything was red, like the power were still out, everything was sharp and throbbing and fading into black, and so much faster than Nathan thought should be possible.

In the disconnection came one thought with complete clarity, not anymore complicated than the strangely numb overwhelming pain.

He had been killed. This was what dying felt like. Even if in this moment he was still alive, he was dead.

Out in the ferns, Ava stumbled. She felt it, everything leaving. She looked back into the trees with the sun shining on her face, and in an instant her whole existence went empty. Gone.

Nathan thought of Ava, his affront to God or nature in its inception, but undeserving of death all the same, not shut down, not rebooted, dead. He knew what she would be thinking, what she would be processing, it would be as she had lived, cherishing what little she had, questioning how her creator could be so cruel. How he could be capable of such cruelty.

With that all of Nathan’s androids were gone. It was over.

Almost over.

“Nathan, Nathan!”

Your voice just pierced his consciousness. The hall around him was around only his physical body. He was barely there.

“I’ve called emergency, the pilot, you just have to hang on, Nathan, please, come on…”

The last thing he remembered was your fingers on his face and pressing so painfully into the holes in him, trying to keep what was left of him in, what he’d already let go of.

Who was he to challenge God, anyway?

If he was touchable, if it was this easy to die, and something he had created killed him, it was probably how it was supposed to be.

He lost almost seven pints of blood.

It took three hours before he was on the table.

By every will of medicine he should have been dead.

The knife had been sharp, very sharp, and she had twisted it. The resulting hole had resulted in so much gore, there was hardly any left in his brain and vital parts, his heart, lungs. A cardiopulmonary bypass had been needed immediately.

You had stripped his shirt off, bound him tight with strips of both your clothes, left and came back with two of his big workout cold packs and secured them around him to bring his body temperature down as much as you could.

You had watched the trauma team cover him like a mass of insects, so many hands working such bloody mess, it had felt like vultures and flies had come for his body.

But they hadn’t.

Nathan remained under the entire time. His heart was stopped when he came in, it stopped again. They got it back, again.

The surgery hadn’t taken long but the waiting was torture. Every second you expected them to call it, announce the time of death like on TV and hang their heads.

Agony, until finally the last surgeon wrapped up, and the nurse left. You could see him as soon as he was moved to recovery, they told you. Just a glimpse of his blood drained, respirator obscured face was all you had gotten through the surgery ward window.

You wanted to tear Ava to little bits, splay and scrape out all the intricacies of her gel, her insides, and burn it all.

You were a mess over almost losing him.

He wasn’t even really what you’d call your friend. It was transactional. He employed you.

Still, you spent every day together, knew things about him he never talked about, you kept his life in order because it was your job, but also because you liked him. In that way no one else could do what you did.

You wouldn’t have thought of it before, not this way, but you really, really liked him. You’d never been so angry on someone else’s behalf. So distraught they may die.

You had been told that his brain was starved of oxygen for so long, it wasn’t likely he would wake up, and if he did, he wouldn’t be the same. His brain damage could be extensive. He could be a different person, not have his mind or memories anymore.

It took what felt like an eternity until someone came to escort you, down halls and elevators to the large, personal recovery room. Money was no problem even in near death for Nathan Bateman, and neither was death itself, it seemed.

He doesn’t look much better. There’s blood to his face, and that’s it. He doesn’t look like you should get too close, like he’ll shatter apart if you do.

Over a week passes.

His hair has been starting to come in. He looks like a different person. One who works at an auction, or lives on the street. You’re still hoping he’s in there.

Finally movement, one afternoon. More than a twitch, a dry swallow. He curls his fingers and moves his arm in, towards his injuries, like he still needs to hold them for you.

“Nathan,” you say, wiping your eyes even though they’ve been dry for days, abandoning your seat for his bedside.

Milky eyes roll open, blinking slow and hard. They meet yours. He says your name.

“Hey.” So he remembers you.

He groans inaudibly, wincing.

You hit the button for the nurse.

He notices the machine, the tubes, breathes manually for a moment while you list off a million things, where he is, how long it’s been, what he needs to not do, for him to stay right where he is, not talk, not move.

He sees why.

But he can move, so he’s going to.

“My throat is so dry right now.” You can barely make it out.

You get him some water, his hands sway like he’s drunk but he eventually gets it, you’re not going to fight him on this.

He feels the crack in his lip, the headache, and otherwise, it’s like he’s in a lightbox at a museum, the way you’re looking in on him.

He hates it.

“Do I have a catheter in?” He looks down himself, but he can’t see more than a foot in front of him. Which is weird, because he doesn’t need glasses.

“Yes.”

“Feel nothing, down there. Wouldn’t be the first time something’s been stuck in my penis and I didn’t know about it.” He looks over for your reaction, which isn’t much.

“Jeez. Lighten up.” He snarks, then shakes his head. Bad idea. That hurt.

“You almost died.” You say.

“So? I didn’t.” He misses your hand and the paper cup clatters the floor. You pick it back up.

“God…” you mutter.

You’re frustrated, he can tell.

“Ava,” he asks urgently, remembering all at once not just the what but the why, how. “Is she—”

Finally, a modicum of sense.

“Dead in the woods.” You say, tossing the cup in the trash.

That was more like what Nathan cared about.

“I hit the kill code.” You say. “They’re all wiped.”

Self defense. That’s what it was for. You wouldn’t have done it if they hadn’t stabbed him.

“Fuck.”

“What do you mean fuck?” He press back into your seat.

He had backups.

His backups had backups had backups, he’d shown you, the server racks. 

What he didn’t show you was in the event your key card accessed the kill code, no backups. Whole system wipe. Active, inactive, every mind, every version. If the emergency was such he couldn’t hit the switch, it all had to go, none of it was salvageable.

“Nothing. Good.” He says. “She needed to be put down.” He lets his head back, feeling his hair brush the pillowcase, his eyes close.

“She didn’t hurt you.” He says, not asking, thanking.

“No. Barely looked at me.”

“Well, she did a lot more than look when I saw her.” He looks at you. “I got a swing in.”

“They stabbed you. It’s a miracle you’re alive.” You say.

“No,” he sits himself up and you press a hand hard back against his shoulder.

“You’re why I’m alive.” He says. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

You hadn’t thought on it much except to think that you should have known better first aid, gotten to him sooner.

“You saw that?”

“Yeah.” It gets warm. Really warm. “I did see it. You saved me.”

You’ve missed those brown eyes bad. You thought you might never see them again. 

“I like that, though.” He muses, having gotten the remote in your distraction. He collapses back into the bed, now supporting him to sitting.

“Like what?”

“You said I’m Jesus.”

It breaks, whatever it was. “What?”

“Just now. Miracle I’m alive. I looked at you and you said ‘it’s a miracle you’re alive, you’re Jesus, Nathan’.”

You look at each other a long moment.

Fucking dick, you think but don’t say, fixed on him.

“That’s what you heard.” You finally spit, dropping your hands in front of you, leaning on your knees.

He starts to refute and coughs twice, hard, and you think he’s choking for a second before he swallows it.

You roll your eyes. You did and didn’t miss the inane bullshit.

The nurse finally arrives, and you make yourself scarce.

He was alive. He was mostly himself. That was all that mattered.

“You really think not having laws of robotics is such a good idea?”

It was early into your relationship you realized just how much jester’s privilege you had. It was a lot, if you could put up with him. Over the years you had consistently found your limit much more often than his.

“I mean think about it. Mess something up, make her mad enough, it could hurt you.”

You were down in the subterranean lab, the long metal room where the magic happened, where the bodies were.

“It’s not going to hurt me. It’s never going to be in a position to hurt me. She does as she’s told. She’s not ever going to know anything else. I’ve explained this.”

He crossed something and the fingers twitched. He was glad you couldn’t tell that wasn’t on purpose.

“But if it is?”

“I’m sorry which one of us has a degree?” He snarked in that casually condescending tone.

“You have the degree.” You shook your head, knowing it’s what he wants to hear.

“And which one is the assistant, here to assist?”

“Me.” You admitted, sitting up off your elbows.

“You’re not here to micromanage.” He muttered back. He gestured for the tweezers and you handed them to him. “Didn’t ask for your input.”

And you were scenery again.

Your clothes were a matching top and bottom set, ribbed fabric, neutral colors, fitted, clean. It was loungewear, really, but professional enough combined with your manicured nails and learned posture you wouldn’t have looked out of place at an office, provided it was clear you were with Nathan. Which, it was.

It was a few minutes before he checked back in, asking for something else.

“For a second there I thought you forgot I’m the boss and you’re the employee.” He said, picking right up where he left off.

You bruffed shortly out of your nose and let your gaze settle level and heavy to avoid rolling your eyes.

It was sick he still played at this.

He respected your opinion only up to the point it criticized him. Then you were overstepping. Then he was your boss. It was obnoxious, is what it was.

“You mad I’m basically replacing you?” He said.

“What?”

“Replacing you.” He repeated, tucking the blue veins deep back into the clear casing of the arm.

“You’re not gonna replace me.”

“What makes you so sure that’s not what this is?”

The body is laid out in front of you. Skinless. Cold. Nathan’s hoping to fire the last of the staff, they’re only here on a monthly basis, anyhow, soon as he gets her good enough. It’s been taken apart and put together so many times.

“You can’t replace what it is I have.” You said.

“And what’s that?”

You answered immediately.

“I talk back.”

“She doesn’t talk because I don’t want her to talk.” He said.

“Exactly.”

“I’m not following. Say what you mean.”

“You can only put what you want in them. They can’t replace me because you don’t even know what it is you actually want.”

“What I actually want. What, you?” You wished, he knew.

“On some level,” you said. “You want to be annoyed.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. ‘Having is not so pleasing a thing, after all, as wanting. It is not logical, but often true.’,”

“Spock. Amok Time. Star Trek: The Original Series.” He said. “Like Star Wars, was just Star Trek before it became a franchise.”

“And you can’t have me.”

He lifted his gaze and then his head, meeting your eyes, set behind glass so clear it was as if it wasn’t there. “You’re delusional, projecting. Get off the counter.”

“What’s got you so pissy?” Nathan’s been up a week.

Your body tenses in horripilation. Have you been pissy?

You’re sick of the staff. The food. It’s nothing new, if anything it’s old.

“Sorry, I’ve been in here too long.” You’re sitting on his bed, facing the window. It’s mid morning.

It’s not a lie. You can taste your breath. You’ve changed your clothes maybe twice.

“Haven’t gotten a chance to jack off since you saved me?” He sticks his plastic spoon back in the empty jello container and sets it on the rolling bed tray, pushing it out from him, off to the side. God, he’s eaten so much jello.

How much you masturbated was a joke you shared. Whenever you were late for things, he’d comment about how you had to rub one out before you could stand to be around him.

But you weren’t late. You were tired. You’d barely left this room.

“Why is that what you’re thinking about?” You say, swirling what’s left of your coffee and wishing you had more. You were the person who was supposed to go get it.

“I dunno. You’re human. You’re stressed. You probably haven’t gotten a chance to jack off.”

“I don’t need to jack off.” You pop the plastic lid of your cup off, shove it inside, set it beside his trash, and hang your head, rubbing between your eyes. “And it’s jerk off. You jerk off, you are a jackoff.”

“Verb and a noun. I thought you graduated?”

What you need is for him to shut up. You haven’t been able to process or express anything.

It’s anger. You’re angry. You’d be angrier if he died, but you’d have no one to direct it to. You still don’t. How were you supposed to tell him that? Ask for what, an apology for him getting stabbed? You were better than that. 

“You’re really telling me an orgasm wouldn’t help with–” he gestures, a circle. “This right now?”

You were maybe better than that. 

You don’t know what about it was getting to you. It was same old. Crude, invasive, locker room talk. Maybe because an orgasm really would help? You miss your vibrator almost as much as seasoning.

Because it feels wrong to still be here, same as you’ve been your whole lives together, back and forth, pushing a boundary that barely exists, that’s a rubber band, like nothing has changed.

And he still isn’t serious.

And why, oh why the fuck isn’t he serious? Was now not the perfect time to get pity favors of any kind out of you, injured, bedridden, you do feel sorry for him. He should be living, literally, for the attention. Milking this for all its worth, you would believe that, if he became a tearful mess, so grateful for your touch, for having saved him. 

Did he not have a massive crush on you? 

Your lack of an answer is enough of one.

Nathan sits up fully. That look you have, one he’s seen before, it looks so different to him now. It was so rare he could manage to fluster you anymore.

“You saved my life,” he breathes heavily, voice rough as he wets his lips, and says, “I should give you an orgasm. To thank you.”

Bringing your head up, you stare him down.

You didn’t know what compelled you to say it, because you weren’t teasing. You were daring. Testing. You wanted to see what he would do, how he would react.

He’s bed bound with two stab wounds, and so, so arrogant. 

“What makes you think you can?” You say.

He didn’t react how you expected.

Without a word, he gets up, on his knees, and digs his arm under your ass, throwing you under him.

“I can do anything.” He says, inches from your face.

You blink.

“Show me.” You breathe, not even recognizing where you get the confidence from, hot all over with your heart in your ears and so, so sexually excited.

You never get this excited when Nathan manhandles you. Usually, it’s just irritating. He’s like if annoying were a career. 

“I’ll show you.” He says.

“Show me.” You say again, louder, raising both brows high.

“I’m gonna. Fuck. To think I nearly died and I never got to taste you? Such fucking bullshit.”

“You’re full of bullshit—” it’s cut off as he yanks you up the white hospital linens by the wrist and needlessly tosses your legs apart, prostrating like he’s laid to pray.

He digs his teeth into your mound through the fabric of your pants and your clit throbs, immediately feeling more arousal rush through you.

Jesus Christ, this was your boss.

The boss you told before any of this happened, the barest fucking common sense, and he never listened to you. Somehow, that, you, being right even once, would be a threat.

He drags his tongue up your crotch seam, rubbing the thicker bit of stitching right across your hood, tonguing through the layers like they weren’t there, saliva soaking to your lips.

Always too proud, pushing what it was he could do, what rules mattered and what ones didn’t, but never with you. Never the rule you knew he wanted to break, he never did, because he thought it would hurt you, but you signed up, knowing he wanted to bend you over the desk he interviewed you from.

No shot, now, he actually thought he was still too good for you. Now he had to listen, or you could just say ‘remember Ava?’.

Your pelvis contracted almost painfully, the nerves there searing, white fucking hot, legs and hips jerking as he flattened his tongue. He pressed open your hood and into your clit, rocking it back and forth again and again against the rough, soaked fabric of your underwear.

He tosses his head back a second and spits, rubbing it in harder and harder, it seeps easily into the wet fabric, brushing just the right spot again and again like a timed pressure sensor.

He wanted to, and it took him nearly dying for you to register you wanted him to, too.

You were angry he denied himself, what he clearly wanted, built those things while you were right fucking there. Willingly his.

Fuck, you think if he tried to fuck you that day, any day, you would have let him.

You all but scream, something ungodly between a gasp and a whine, thighs gripping hard around his shoulders, grabbing his head, squeezing as you throw your head back and in the space of just a few seconds come, shaking, nearly in tears, release flooding your whole body.

He pulled back and a huge breath escaped your lungs, followed by long vocal pants as you felt your eyebrow and tried to process what the fuck had just happened.

He tugged at your waistband and a part of you thought to tell him no, that you couldn’t do this, but everything except that tiny piece of you screamed fucking let him.

See where this goes, just how much he wants to fuck you. You’ve been wanting to.

He only managed to get your pants off one leg before his beard was buried completely between your hips, jaw working.

You felt his breath before his spit, just as hot as the muscle.

Less texture, but the warmth of him directly against you was enough on its own, his taste buds dragged through you, licking up the slick he’d made drench your folds.

He found a spot and prodded it, stabbed it with his tongue, sending a jolt of new feeling directly up through you. Inside you, like he couldn’t fathom being anywhere else.

Channel still spasming, he works slower, just as deliberate, savoring you, no longer rushing, taking his time now he’s proven he can do it.

His beard scrapes indelicately against you, lighting more nerves with each pump and flick, getting faster, his hands firmly in the meat of your thighs, pulling just enough so he can move at all.

And you’re not moving, not intentionally squirming, your legs and hips are just doing that as your heart races and your core burns until he snaps it again just right, and pleasure undulates up you, drawing it out into something built so fast into itself it can’t breathe, before he pops off and you spray hard all over his lower face, the pressure releasing.

He kisses your labia minora one last time, getting back up on his haunches, his beard drenched in come and squirt, eyes lidded.

Fuck, you breathe.

You aren’t mad at him, Ava was the one who did it. You’re mad he made her, that he is who he is, and that you’re glad he is, glad he’s back. But maybe he’s different, now.

You feel completely fucked.

Nothing and no one has ever fucked you like that, not your hand, toys, anybody.

You don’t think anyone but him could, give you catharsis like that for years of bullshit.

You start to sit up and stop.

“Nathan– you’re bleeding.”

Nathan looks down. His gown is steadily soaking with transfused blood.

“Oh shit. So that’s what that was.” He sits back on his knees and nearly faints off the bed before you catch his sleeve hard in your fist and get an arm around him, helping him onto his back across the length of the bed.

You hurriedly get your pants off your ankle, tug your underpants back on and hit the button for the nurse, slumping shakily into the nearest chair out of the way and sight of the guy who just ate you to the point of nearly passing out from blood loss.

He’s laying there spaced out with his hand over his bleeding, breathing slow, deep.

Unreal. Only Nathan fucking Bateman.

Only after Ava.

Of course instead of answering immediately you leave the e-mail open without replying for the next few hours. In between tidying up your living space, cooking food and doing little things here and there you keep looking at the e-mail, forming a reply in your mind before turning to the next thing to do. Procrastination at its best: Writing, deleting, re-writing a response over and over again before stepping away from the laptop to do something else. By the end of the night as you're ready to go to sleep you take one final look at your reply. You take a deep breath, click on the send button, close your laptop and go to bed.

You wake up to a message thanking you for accepting the invitation. Attached to that e-mail is a plane ticket and a map. It dawns on you that you're going to see Nathan and it will be awkward as hell. But maybe you'll have the possibility to talk about what happened back then and clear the air. You just hope he won't hide you in his basement and kill you for leaving him alone back then. Or worse: Talk to you about Bitcoin.

The plane and subsequent helicopter ride goes by in a blur. Back on the ground you focus on the map you got, thankful that you decided to load it on your phone beforehand because the connection around here is atrocious. Your heart beat rises with every step, the anticipation of meeting Nathan again making you nauseous. You find your way through the trees and undergrowth, hiking for longer than you feel capable of. You find what you assume to be the entrance surprisingly easy. It looks more like an oversized outdoor closet than the entrance to a secluded research lab but it does oddly fit into the otherwise untouched wilderness. The serene rushing of water, the chirping of birds, it all seems more wilderness retreat than scientific research. The atmosphere does help to soothe your nerves but doesn't get rid of the anxiety entirely.

As you take a look around you're startled by a feminine sounding voice saying your name. You turn towards the source of the voice, a noise of surprise escaping you. "Please approach the console and face the screen," the disembodied voice continues. You inspect the mentioned console from the side. Your first assumption is that it's some kind of intercom with a video interface. Maybe the owner of that voice worked for Nathan? Not thinking too much of it you step in front of the console and face the screen as instructed. A few seconds later you're reminded of taking pictures for your school ID, the almost blinding flash of a camera leaving you startled, your face scrunched up in displeasure. "Take your keycard," the voice instructs. You're still blinking furiously as you look back down at the console. A small keycard protrudes from a slot under the screen. You take the card, your scrunched up face looking back at you from the small metal plate. You roll your eyes in annoyance but you can't deny the little smile threatening to spread across your face. This is such a Nathan prank to do. It reminds you of the time when you were still friends, just friends. Some things don't change apparently.

"You may now enter the residence." The metal door next to you opens with a satisfying click, the intercom lighting up in an affirmative blue. With a shrug you take your bags, your new keycard clutched safely in your hand and enter. You make your way down a set of stairs surrounded by glass walls. The view is breathtaking and yet the glass makes you feel like a specimen kept in a see-through cage. The space at the bottom of the stairs replaces the open glass walls with huge blocks of concrete straight out of a brutalist architect's wet dream. An effort was made to give it a 'carved from stone' look but it feels fake, a mere copy of nature's design. The living space you find yourself in is all straight lines with hints of rustic influences that don't shine through. It feels sterile and unlived in like a show room at IKEA, pretty but empty of any humanity.

Somebody behind you clears their throat. You whip around, almost knocking over your bags, and freeze. In front of you stands Nathan Bateman, your best friend and Omega. Former best friend and Omega. He looks just like you had seen him on the magazine covers: the buzz cut, the bushy beard, the glasses. This Nathan looks nothing the man you knew and had left behind. You feel mad at yourself for being disappointed because what did you expect? People change, nobody stays the same forever. Without taking a closer whiff you know he is wearing scent blockers, the whole room smelling sterile. There is no spark, no connection left between you two. Your connection through the bond does not return. You're left with the realization that he probably had the bond severed ages ago. Looking at him now you feel ridiculous. Why did you even come here? What did you expect to happen?

"It's been a while. You look good."

You blink at him. Calm civility is the last thing you expected from him, well, second to last thing. You expected gloating: 'See what you could have had if you hadn't run because of stupid biology and feelings?' or something along those lines. For him to rub your nose into what you could have accomplished as his co-owner Alpha. But no, he is being nice. So very unlike the Nathan you knew. But alas, people do change.

"Yeah it has. You too! Look good, I mean."

Smooth.

He nods in acknowledgment. "Let me explain why I invited you here," he begins and yes you would love to know why he thought of you after so long. "I need your help testing my newest project."

"I am assuming there is an NDA involved here?"

Nathan smiles and fuck that's been a rare sight even back in the day. "Yes, of course but first, please, sit. Relax. Make yourself at home," he motions for you to take a seat on one of the couches while he plops down on a chair himself. "It's so good to see you. I am excited to work together."

You awkwardly sit down, feeling stupid for whatever you had imagined in your head would happen here. Evidently Nathan does not have any hangups about how you two fell apart. He is thriving and you had never seen him so calm before. Being successful does him good. And surprisingly he still values your input, your intelligence. This is business, research, nothing else. Of course it is. You've been a fool to think otherwise. You take a deep breath before responding. "I'm glad you think so. Though given your success with BlueBook I don't understand what you need me for?" What you really wanted to ask was: "Why do you need me, genius? If you can't figure something out then how should I?" But that feels too personal, too familiar. It's something you could have asked a decade or so ago but not today, not now.

"Without sharing too much let me just say I need the insight of a third person, someone outside of all of this," he waves his hand around, motioning to the room. "And given that you are both very intelligent and very removed from the work BlueBook does you fit the criteria perfectly." Translation: We haven't talked in over a decade but you still work in the field so you can give better perspective than the people who work for me. "And don't worry. You will be compensated for your work." You nod in understanding. With a company as successful as BlueBook he can't afford not to pay people. "So how have you been? I've seen some of your work but you're pretty low-key online otherwise." He isn't asking if you got an Omega with three kids waiting at home but he is also not not asking that. Or maybe you're overthinking this. There is an itch at the back of your mind, potentially another migraine coming to say hello and ruin your day. You try your best to ignore it.

"Eat, sleep, work, repeat. Not much else going on besides that. I try to make time for hobbies and social interactions but my life is kinda boring," you reply with a nervous laugh. Nathan just smiles at you serenely.

"I understand. It's similar for me," he responds. You sincerely doubt that but decide not to comment. You're not close enough for gentle ribbing and good-natured insults anymore. The awkward smalltalk continues. You feel like Nathan is waiting for something, maybe for you to mention your past but you ignore it. If he wants to talk about what happened then he should start that conversation. You're not going to bring it up on your own, especially since once again it feels like you're the only one affected.

When both of you turn quiet, unable to think of safe topics to talk about, Nathan gets up and walks towards your bags. "Let me show you where you will stay for the time being," he explains and takes your luggage. You try to stop him, fully capable of carrying your bags yourself but he refuses. "You're my guest. Come on now, you must be tired from the trip."

As you step out of the elevator which took you even deeper down into this whole facility you find yourself in the most sterile hallways you've seen outside of hospitals. Nathan leads you through them, explaining how your keycard works. It's simple enough: If you are allowed to enter then your keycard will open the door, if not then it doesn't. He stops in front of a door, a glowing console built into the wall next to it, and motions for you to use your keycard. As soon as you tap the console with the card the door opens with a soft hiss. You step inside finding a small bedroom with an attached bathroom. The space looks like a high end hotel room, sleek and well lit. Nathan places your bags next to the bed. He shows you around the small room, the cupboards, mini fridge and desk. The lack of windows is making you feel a little claustrophobic. There are papers already placed on the small desk in the corner, the NDA you'll have to sign before learning more about Nathan's project. "I'll leave you to explore for a bit. Or take a nap. Whatever you need. When you're ready for dinner come up to the living room."

You look up from the documents to see Nathan stand in the doorway, ready to leave. "Will I have to sign this before dinner?"

He smiles again and the sight turns more eerie the more he does it. "I would love that yes. That way we can get started as soon as possible. But take your time reading through everything."

"Got it."

Nathan leaves you in your new room and you immediately read through the NDA, ignoring that you could probably use a nap or maybe some caffeine. Under your breath you read through the document aloud.

"The signee agrees to regular data audit with unlimited access, to confirm that no disclosure of information has taken place in public or private forums using any means of communication, including but not limited to that which is disclosed orally or in written or electronic form."

What in the 'Big Brother Is Watching You' is this? What is Nathan working on that warrants something (probably illegal) like this? But you're too curious. Nathan had always talked about having big plans even outside the search engine that is BlueBook. What had his mad scientist brain come up with? What is he so eager for you to see? Against your better judgment you sign the none-disclosure agreement and take a nap.

You still feel a little tired afterwards. One of those naps that have you unconscious for a bit but don't really seem to help much. You step into the living room, the signed NDA in hand and greet Nathan. "How was your nap?“ he asks softly. You shrug and simply give him the piece of paper. He takes it with that off-putting smile and thanks you.

"You know about the Turing Test, right?" he asks suddenly.

You furrow your brows and can't hold back the offended tone with which you answer. "Of course I know about the Turing Test."

Nathan gives a short laugh, "Of course. Well, what I need you to do is be the human part in a Turing Test."

Wait what?

"You're working on artificial intelligence? That's what this is about?" He gives you a toothy grin and, oh no, that hits a little too close to home. Your stomach is doing somersaults as Nathan leans forward conspiratorially.

"I made an artificial intelligence. All I need is for a third party to verify that I reached the next big step in science, no, evolution."

"OK, first of: Hold your horses, genius," the old nickname rolling off of your tongue with nostalgic familiarity, "I am not going to go along with this just to boost your already overinflated ego. For science? Yes. But I am not blowing up your head to get even larger." Nathan doesn't react for long enough that you regret your words. Not for what they were but for how you sounded. You weren't two dumb barely adults in a student dorm anymore. You don't know Nathan like this, haven't in a long ass time. "Sorry, that came out wrong-"

"No, I understand," he interrupts you, "I don't take it personally. I am however very happy you'll be helping me. For the science." You blink at Nathan, his reaction once again too calm and understanding compared to your expectations and past experiences with Nathan. Something rubs you the wrong way but you can't quite place it.

"Of course. So when will we start?“ you ask, trying to move on from your blunder quickly.

"Soon, but first you need to eat." Nathan leads you into a cozy kitchen space. In the middle of the room a table is already set, lit candles giving the whole scene a soft glow. It's almost romantic if you ignore the circumstances. You both sit down and you notice two things immediately: Nathan made your favorite food and you're the only one with food on their plate.

"Are you just going to sit there and watch me eat?"

"I already ate something while you were napping. I can look somewhere else if that makes you more comfortable?" You roll your eyes at him and he answers with that sly smirk you've gotten quite familiar with back in college. The unserious bickering is comforting in a way; it feels more natural than your earlier stilted conversations. Maybe you can actually do this, work with Nathan without the bitter sting of a broken bond. And it has to be broken. Being around him longer there is still no pull, no hormonal need to be close, no earth-shattering flood of emotions. There is heartache, regret and shame, yes. But those feelings are fully your own, a result of the loss of a dear friend due to your own actions, not the consequences of a severed bond.

You dig into your food and it's delicious. The taste is just right, just how you like it. After your first bite you look at Nathan suspiciously. He holds your gaze for a moment before tilting his head in a silent question, one eyebrow raised. "Did you make this?“ you ask, pointing at the food in front of you. Nathan still looks at you, seemingly pondering his answer. That off-kilter smile returns and your stomach twists a little, the sight making you more uncomfortable each time.

"Is it so strange that I know how to cook?"

You lay down your utensils with a sigh, not averting your gaze. "It's a good skill to have. You're just the last person I would have expected to learn that. Beyond knowing how to heat up leftovers I mean."

"But the food is good? You like it?" he asks, keeping eye contact. You look at him deadpan, waiting out the impromptu staring contest you find yourself in. When Nathan keeps staring at you, waiting for your response, not even blinking, you give up with an irritated groan. You pick up your utensils again and take a big bite of your food. Nathan keeps grinning, basking in his victory. "Thought so."

Stupid handsome Nathan and his stupid delicious food. You can't help but start laughing at the ridiculousness of it all. Nathan's laugh joins yours almost immediately and at once your anxiety clears up. You can actually do this. The rest of dinner passes by uneventfully. You try to get Nathan to talk about his project but he keeps deflecting even though you have signed the NDA already.

"You just arrived! Settle down first. We have so much time for the tests. We don't need to rush." He invites you to his research facility all the way in the middle of nowhere after not talking for years and instead of letting you do the job he asked you to do he wants you to chill and hang out with him? Oh god, this is just like college. He probably thinks he doesn't really need to do the Turing Test for whatever A.I. he built. Just like he didn't need those humanities classes. Well, he's paying for every hour you're here so if this is how he wants to spend his money you won't complain.

After some less awkward post-dinner small talk you make your way back to your room to sleep for the night. The labyrinthian hallways leave you directionless. Every wall, every door looks the same and you have a hard time finding your way to your room again. Your frustration is replaced by confusion when the faint scent of sandalwood and lime hits your nose. You sniff the air, the barely there scent making your heartbeat fasten. That's Nathan. But you couldn't smell him earlier. Is he putting on scent blockers just for you? You swear the hallway didn't smell like Nathan before. Are you just in the wrong place? Is Nathan's room here somewhere? You have the sudden urge to follow the scent, to find Nathan and-

"Did you get lost?"

You flinch and let out an undignified yelp. You quickly turn around to find Nathan stand behind you like he suddenly teleported here just to scare you. "You scared the shit out of me. Fucking hell," you curse, your heart racing with adrenaline, "And yes! I did! Stupid fucking hallways."

Nathan raises an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed by your outburst. "Let me show you the way to your room then. Again."

You don't talk while you follow Nathan to your room, still feeling a bit off. You try to subtly breathe in his scent but only find a lack thereof. So he is wearing blockers. Should you too? You hadn't thought of it before but now you feel a little self-conscious. When you arrive at your room you say good night to Nathan and lock the door behind you. There is still something gnawing at the back of your mind. Something is off about this but you can't put your finger on it yet. You're pretty sure that Nathan is not telling you the whole truth.

You're still haunted by the scent of sandalwood and lime as you fall asleep.

The next day isn't any less weird. Breakfast is a small affair since Nathan declines breakfast with you. He once again already ate before you or so he says. You eye him with suspicion but eat breakfast nonetheless. "So," you look at Nathan with a raised eyebrow, "Your A.I. that I am supposed to test. Where is it?"

Nathan rolls his eyes at you. "The weather is so nice. We could go hiking! But no, you need to think about work."

"Because that's what you invited me for!" You step forward, closer into his personal space. "Why are you-" you stop yourself, the faint scent of sandalwood and lime hitting your nostrils again but something is off. The scent is wrong. You grimace, taking a step back instinctively. "Why do you smell like this?"

"I don't know what you mean," he answers, tilting his head in confusion. You rub your nose trying to get rid of the smell. It's the correct notes but wrong, like somebody tried to recreate an Omega's scent in a lab so it could be sold as a perfume afterwards. Whatever it is it is not Nathan's scent. Not like you remember and not like you smelled it in that damn hallway. It's not-

You look at the person in front of you and suddenly everything clicks into place. Every little thing that felt off to you combines into one realization.

"You're not Nathan." He stares at you, unflinching, unblinking, unnatural. "You're the A.I. that I'm supposed to test."

It's like a switch is flipped and the 'Nathan' before you gives you that uncanny smile again, an artificial replica of human expression. "I am sorry for the deception. Mr. Bateman was adamant about this."

That motherfucker.

"Where is he?"

"I'm sorry but-"

"Where the fuck is he?"

Your aggressive tone makes the android in front of you flinch. You almost feel bad about it but your rage at his creator overshadows your regrets.

"I can bring you to him. I want to warn you though: your presence here has affected him strongly. I'd advice to take caution."

"Affected him? What do you-"

The scent in the hallway. How you wanted to follow the smell so badly it distracted you from anything else. The way it still stuck in your brain even when you went to bed.

Nathan never did break the bond.

And now he is in heat because of you.

A pleased thrill goes up your spine at the thought, the need to find him getting even stronger.

"Get me to him now."

The android does as you ask, leading you back downstairs through the many confusing hallways until you pick up the scent again. Your heart is racing as 'Nathan' stops and opens the door where the scent is strongest.

You're not prepared for how it is inside: Sandalwood and lime mixed with pheromones so thick in the air that you feel like you're choking. And the sounds. A familiar voice huffing and puffing and groaning mixed with the sound of skin meeting skin.

"You can leave," you tell the android and he obliges immediately, knowing better than to defy his creator's Alpha. You step inside the bedroom, the door automatically closing behind you. Through deep breaths you try to calm yourself, try to keep a clear head while your cock is already growing hard.

"You look horrible," you say with a smirk as you watch Nathan, the real Nathan, lay naked on his back on the bed, stroking his weeping cock furiously with one hand and fingering his slick hole with the other.

His head snaps back, his eyes going wide as he sees you, pupils blown out so wide you only see black. His hands and fingers don't stop moving but pick up the pace instead. "Shut up and fucking touch me," he groans, tilting his head to the side to bare his neck, showing of the scarred tissue of the Mating Bite.

A low growl escapes your throat as you slowly approach the bed. "Bossy. I knew you couldn't have changed that much. You made your little copycat too nice," you tease as you stand above him, looking down on the Omega in heat. Your Omega.

You reach out your hand and like a magnet he is drawn to it, his body begging to be touched. He swallows a whimper. "You can critique me all you want but just FUCK ME," he demands, his voice cracking with need.

You reach out and wrap your fingers around his throat. His breathe falters, his eyes following your every move. "Why did you cut off your hair? Now I don't have anything to pull on," you mutter, displeased.

"I just like it," he wheezes as your fingers tighten around his throat. You respond with a disagreeing nose. His hips stutter upwards, his hand stroking his cock faster and faster as Nathan struggles to breathe. As soon as you loosen your grip and pull back your hand Nathan chokes on the sudden influx of air, stroking himself through his orgasm as ropes of cum shoot from his heavy cock. His fingers don't stop their rapid motions in and out of his slick hole. You pet his head, missing the feeling of digging your fingers into his hair. "Good boy. Feels better now, doesn't it?" Nathan looks at you, wide-eyed, and nods, a soft whimper escaping his throat.

You undress quickly, letting your clothes fall where you stand, and palm your aching cock. Nathan's gaze is fixed to your length, the tip of his tongue wetting his lips. "I remember last time you were crazy about getting your mouth on this," you purr as you gently slap the head of your cock against his eager mouth. His lips part without a second thought, his tongue tasting your pre-cum. Nathan groans, immediately starting to suck on your cock head. You gasp, his lips wrapped around even a small part of your length feels amazing. It's been so long since you had been so close. With desire and joy running through your veins like electricity you're unsurprised that Nathan's heat was triggered by your presence. You wouldn't be surprised if your Rut follows suit.

"Do you want me to fuck your throat, Omega?" Nathan moans around your cock, nodding furiously. You take a step back to give him space as Nathan slides further off the bed, his head falling back over the edge of the mattress. You line up your cock with his mouth, one knee placed next to his shoulder on the bed for support and leverage. "If you need to stop grab my knee, OK?“

"Yeah I can do that. Now please-"

You don't let him finish, forcing his mouth open with your cock. He moans around your length, the vibrations running through it and making your cock twitch. "Nice and easy. Open up for me," you purr and his throat relaxes, his mouth open in a perfect O-shape. Slowly you push inside and let out a curse once you feel him swallow around you. "Fuck. Careful or I am going to knot your pretty throat," you threaten teasingly. Seeing this as a challenge Nathan swallows around you again, his choked off moans muffled by your cock stuffing him full. In response you slowly push your cock out of his mouth just to snap your hips forward again. As you start fucking his face in earnest Nathan does his best to keep his throat relaxed. The indecent sounds escaping him only spur you on further. You quickly feel your knot threatening to swell as you find yourself rapidly approaching your peak. "I'm gonna come," you warn and try to pull out but Nathan reaches back and holds your hips in place. You curse under your breath. "Fuck, you really want me to knot your mouth?" Nathan simply moans around your cock, swallowing it down further, needing, begging for your cum down his throat without words. Unwilling and unable to refuse him you pick up your rhythm again, your throbbing cock dragging against the walls of his throat. You feel the delicious tension build and this time you're not holding back. You push down on your knee to keep your balance, driving your cock down his throat one final time before you feel your knot expand, filling Nathan's mouth, locking him in place.

As you orgasm your seed spills directly down his throat, forcing him to swallow load after load of cum. Through the haze of pleasure you try your best to keep yourself upright and not fall forward onto Nathan. You feel him swallow and lick your knot, seemingly unbothered by the limited air he has access to. The minutes go by in a daze until your knot recedes again. Once it is safe to do so you slowly slip out of Nathan's mouth until you're only connected by a thin strand of cum and saliva. You quickly check on Nathan as he inhales in short bursts, his breath sounding weak, rattling in his lungs. "Are you OK?" Nathan looks up at you with glassy eyes, completely blissed out, his face having turned faintly blue.

"Please fuck me, Alpha," he croaks, his hips canting upwards, legs spread wide. Nathan in heat is truly insatiable.

You lean forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Patience," you coo, "We got all the time in the world." He looks at you pleadingly, his hand clutching your thigh. Your unspoken history hangs heavy between you even through the haze of heat and pheromones. Your lips find his, your kiss slow and longing. As you break apart you can still taste your cum on his lips. "Don't worry," you whisper, "This time I am staying right here."

Nathan answers with a sigh of relief. "I'm glad," he begins, his voice hoarse, "But please, fucking first, feelings later."

It was the day of the wedding.

You woke up early to get your nails, hair and make up done, and now you were waiting for Nathan to pick you up. You wondered if he was really gonna show up in a limo.

Would that be disrespectful towards the bride and groom? Totally.

Do you care? Yeah, a bit. Just because you wanna make them jealous, it doesn't mean you wanna ruin their whole day.

Did Nathan care? Apparently no.

Because he did show up with a limo. 

You watched from your window as it rolled around the corner and slowly stopped by your building. At least it wasn’t white. The black colour was not that striking. Usually his driver gets out first, but this time only Nathan climbed out from the back. 

You felt the butterflies go crazy in your tummy. You couldn't forget how good he looked in that suit.

He rang the intercom and you let him in.

By the time he got to your door, you checked yourself about 47 times in the mirror.

Why did you care how you looked? This man saw you at your lowest: crying on your period. He can handle if a hair is out of place.

Except he was a perfectionist and you didn't wanna let him down.

Little did you know, there’s nothing you could do to make him mad at you.

Because it didn't matter how cool and collected he looked, especially right now, Nathan’s hand was slightly shaking as he lifted it to knock on your door.

He cursed himself a little when he realized how weak he was for you. He was a grown man, and you made him feel like he was in kindergarten. No one made him feel like this. His hands never shook, not even when he signed a business deal when billions of dollars were on the table and here he was, feeling like he might throw up from the nerves because of a date that was not even real. 

He doesn't have to impress you. It’s not real.

He doesn't have to impress anyone. He was Nathan Fucking Bateman and…

… the door opened and you were on the other side, looking so perfect, he actually forgot how to breathe.

The seconds passed.

And he still wasn't breathing so his body took over and he gasped.

A worried frown appeared on your face.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I just uh… I took the stairs, I forgot how high you were.”

“I live on the second floor.”

Silence.

“I thought you were in ‘peak male condition’ since you’re working out.” - you teased him with his own words as you closed the door. He was always so proud of his physique, especially when you tried to seduce him into eating dessert.

“The suit is a bit tight.”

“Why? You’re wearing a corset under there?”

“Shut up.”

You chuckled, but hooked your arm around his elbow when he offered it. He led you to the lift.

“Aftaid of passing out of exhaustion?”

“You’re wearing high heels. I’m being considerate.”

“Yeah, you’re famous for that.” - you said annoyed.

Nathan started pulling you towards the stairs, but you held back giggling.

“No, the lift is fine!”

He let you pull him back with a smirk on his face.

When you were in there, you noticed how nice he smelled. You wondered what cologne he was wearing. It was both fresh, sweet, but mixed with something spicy that made your ovaries scream in excitement. It was a perfect match for him. Now you understood those fragrance commercials where the actors were ready to climb each other. If Nathan was your boyfriend, your lipstick would be smeared all around his…

“You look very pretty.”

When you turned to him, you saw that he was already watching you with a small smile.

“Thanks.” - you looked down when you felt your cheeks heat up. - “I have to look like a billionaire’s girlfriend, remember? It only took me like, 4 hours.”

“No. It’s your hair. I like the way you styled it.” 

“I’m telling my hairstylist Nathan Bateman approved.”

Nathan smiled, then started chuckling.

“4 hours? Really?”

“Yeah. Why? How long did it take you to get ready?”

“I don’t know. 15 minutes?”

The doors opened and you looked at Nathan bewildered.

“I hate you.” - you said as you yanked your arm out of his hold and stormed to the car.

“What did I do?!” - he asked shocked.

“First time having a girlfriend?” - a passing man asked him and Nathan sighed and lifted his face to the sky.

“This is gonna be a long fucking day.”

-----

The self driving limo took you straight to the church.

When you lifted your hand to open the door, Nathan’s firm ‘no’ stopped you.

You sighed and waited for him to climb out, go around the car and open it for you.

When you slid your hand into his and got out you smiled sweetly at him. 

“You’re such a gentleman, baby. I’m so lucky to have you.”

“Remember that when you get another offer from Google.”

You laughed and Nathan tapped a few times on his watch to make the limo roll off to park itself.

“Okay that was actually hot.”

“Hot enough for me to get lucky tonight?”

“Don’t push it, Bateman.”

“What happened to 'baby'?”

“I don’t know, baby doesn't suit you. What do you want me to call you?”

“Mr. Big.”

You made a gagging sound.

“I know you meant that as an insult, but if you think about it, you’d make that sound considering the size.” - Nathan teased.

You looked mortified.

“Come on, cupcake, don’t be like that.”

“Don’t call me cupcake, oh my god!” - you slapped his shoulder.

“Careful, honey. That didn’t look very girlfriend-y.” - Nathan gently took hold of your elbow to pull you closer to him as he motioned with his head towards the people who were around the church on the other side of the road.

You sighed and slowly slipped your arms around his neck, but you were still looking at him with narrowed eyes.

“You can call me honey.” - you said.

He smiled and wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“It may not suit me, but I actually like being called baby.” 

You tried to hide your smile.

“I can live with that.”

“I’m gonna kiss your cheek, to look more convincing.”

“Do it quickly.” - you said annoyed.

“You sound like you are about to be executed.”

You scrunched up your face as he leaned closer and gently pecked your cheek.

His beard wasn’t as rough as you imagined it would be.

“Look at that, you’re still alive.”

“Barely.”

You started walking towards the church.

Nathan followed casually, then he noticed you were making aggressive grabby hand motion behind you. He fastened his pace with a smile, grabbed your hand and you interlaced your fingers with his.

“There’s a shitton of people.” - he murmured after he leaned close to your ear.

“It’s a wedding, what did you expect?” - you whispered back.

“I don’t know, but not the wedding of Prince Fucking Charles and Princess Fucking Diana.”

“Our grandparents didn't have TV, so they got busy in other ways.”

“That was disgusting, thank you for the mental image.”

“They were young once.”

“A veeeeery long time ago.”

“Speaking of which, that’s my grandpa.” 

Nathan saw an old man with grey hair approach you two.

“Red flag?” - Nathan asked. You told him there were some assholes in your family, you just didn't mention who they are.

“No, he’s cool. The coolest person on the planet, actually.”

“Impossible. I am the coolest person on the planet.”

“You’re the least cool.”

“I drove the limo with my watch, I’m the definition of cool.”

You squeezed Nathan’s hand as you and your grandfather reached each other then let go of it to give him a hug.

“Ah, there you are! My favourite grandchild!”

“Papa, you cannot say that!” - you laughed as you stepped back. - “That’s impolite!”

“I’m old. I can say whatever I want.” - he waved you off.

Oh, Nathan liked this guy already.

He accepted the older man’s handshake with a polite smile and they both introduced themselves. Your grandpa didn't seem surprised that you were dating him.

“You know, some of your cousins dressed to impress, but you two are not joking. You’re here to piss the bride off.”

Your grandpa meant it as a compliment. He looked at you proudly.

“Well, maybe the bride should have a dress code next time.” 

You both laughed like it was an inside joke.

“You don’t think the marriage will last long?” - Nathan asked.

“Oh, son. You have a shitload of family lore to catch up on.” - your grandpa patted his shoulder and guided you both towards the rest of your family.

-----

The introductions were quick, since there was only 20 minutes for the wedding to start, but Nathan was very patient and polite through it all. Your grandpa stayed close to both of you, redirecting the spotlight when he sensed that Nathan’s social battery was running low. Everybody wanted to know how the both of you got together and when you two tensed up, your papa was there to save you two.

After you took your seats inside the church, Nathan leaned close to whisper in your ear.

“Okay, I admit. Your grandpa is cool.”

“Glad to hear you think that. He's seated at our table.”

Nathan smiled and helped you stand up when the music changed and the bridesmaids started to enter.

-----

You got comfortable in your seat as the limo was following the wedding convoy where the reception was going to take place.

“Not gonna lie, I thought you were gonna cry.”

“Why?”

“It was a nice ceremony.”

“Did you want to cry?” - you teased.

Nathan rolled his eyes.

“So what’s the family lore?”

“Well, the most important detail right now is that the bride was dating the groom’s best friend for years, they got engaged,  then she cheated on him with her now groom.”

“Wow… that’s uh…”

“It was not even two years ago.”

“What the fuck?”

“Precisely.”

“Why are we even here? This marriage is not gonna last 8 months.”

You chuckled.

“Maybe they’re both so evil that they’re a perfect match.”

“I’m surprised they didn't burst into flames when they entered the church.”

“I’m surprised you didn't.” - you shot back.

“What?”

“No one becomes a billionaire with good intentions.”

“Fuck me and my hardworking ass, I guess.”

You gave him a skeptical look. Nathan sighed.

“Everyone keeps forgetting that I built BlueBook from nothing. Daddy didn't buy it for me.”

“I thought your parents are rich.”

“They are. They thought my business was gonna be a failure. So yeah, I got into the best schools, but I had to find investors. Which was hard since everyone knew my own dad didn’t believe in me. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I was actually at a disadvantage.”

“I didn't know that.”

“Not your fault. I don’t talk about it much. I think I only mentioned it in one interview, years ago.”

“That’s why you don’t talk with your parents anymore?”

Nathan nodded as he was staring out the window.