Title: Growing Pains
Pairing: Nathan/Simon/Nathan, vague Kelly/Alisha, Curtis/Alisha and Nathan/Kelly.
Warnings: Sex. Slang. Swearing. Nathan.
Rating: R. What the fuck.
Summary: Nathan is having a fair amount of sexual adventures with Simon, that are in no way gay, and are in no way significant.
Simon is just a wreck of a person.
“You immense fuck-up,” is all Nathan bothers saying when he's attacked by frail arms and thin, white lips. The thing about Nathan is that he's all talk, and he hasn't got anything against the gays, the foreigners, not even the crossdressers, which of course followed the realization that he was gorgeous and would look damn fine in drag. He's just a go with the flow kind of guy, so when Simon tries again, fumbling hands slipping across Nathan's hips and dry mouth pressing, needy and cold onto his, Nathan just goes with it, and fucks him into the lockers.
He's almost half-expecting the breakdown that follows. Simon starts crying – and it looks downright insane on his motionless, apathetic face – and after Nathan has a go at him, after he says, “Well, I thought it was an alright shag. Is it your ass? Am I too huge?” after he says it, he lets Simon fist his jumpsuit and sob into his neck and rock against his thigh until he comes again, because Nathan did at one point in his life have a screw session with a pensioner and doesn't have a right to judge what gets anybody off, even if it is misery, even if it is the heartbreak that comes with murder.
“You horny bastard,” Nathan says cheerfully when Simon's finished, and they're kind of just standing in the changing rooms awkwardly pressed together, with Simon's tears drying on his cheeks and Nathan's jaw. He shoves Simon away and remarks, “You're lucky you're not a bad ride,” then proceeds to flaunt some chosen lewd gestures as he exits, and Simon is just standing, watching, looking sombre and debauched and way too aroused at Nathan's crude wanking demonstrations.
For the record, Nathan knows it's going to happen again. He knows his sexual power over people is simply too strong to be ignored. Or at least, he thought it was, so when Simon simply reverts back to shifting uncomfortably around him at all moments and generally eyeing him with nothing but alarm, Nathan's ego takes quite a bruise. Then they finish for the day, and Simon starts stripping next to him and Nathan's dick takes quite an interest.
There'd be no end of it from Curtis, though, if he found out about Nathan's less than heterosexual tendencies after all the glares he's given him for his slightly camp personality in the past, and it would be even worse if he found out about he and Simon's bum in the very room they're standing in. Kelly might even hear, and despite the recent influx of weird shit he's put his dick in, he's still pretty hopeful they'll end up having a completely normal bang at least once, without any old lady bits or penises included. Although, there is an awful lot of touching and giggling between the two girls now – which really can only mean one thing when Alisha's involved – but that only endears him more.
He just lingers with his now fully formed boner until Curtis leaves, playing with the deodorant lid in his locker until he hears, “See you tomorrow,” and manages a slightly squeaky reply. The second after he's left, Simon makes for the door too, causing Nathan to turn to him with the most affronted what the fuck face he can muster. “You can't just leave,” he hisses, shaking his head. “You can't just give me a slightly over mediocre fuck one day and not give me a slightly over mediocre fuck the next.” He drags Simon closer by his arms, staring into his terrified pale eyes and feeling their cocks meeting through too many layers of clothes. His eyes may or may not roll back a little at the feel before he continues, dramatic and distraught, “What kind of man are you?”
“I,” Simon says, looking frantic, and Nathan figures they can skip the whole jerky conversation and pushes Simon into the nearest locker, pressing against him as closely as their bodies can fit and feeling the start of tentative kisses on his collarbone, which is, okay, gay, but Nathan figures this particular ship has sailed, and he may as well go all out; he jams a hand beneath Simon's trousers and squeezes Simon's cock. It isn't all that bad, actually, because Nathan quite likes a good cocksqueezing himself and it isn't all too different. If anything, it's kind of better, because Simon's voice makes deep little guttural sounds into his ear and then he slides a hand under and reciprocates, which feels better than with most girls, because as a guy, Simon knows what works, what makes toes curl, what makes an impossibly powerful orgasm that perhaps makes Nathan see the face of Jesus Christ before he blows his load with a rather unflattering squeal.
Simon takes a while longer, and after the novelty of giving gay handjobs wears off, and the aftereffect dizziness of his orgasm, Nathan let's out a curt, “Fuck it,” and drops to his knees. Simon's thin fingers tangle in his hair tight enough to hurt, and Nathan is still too weirded out to actually do real cock-in-mouth action, so he just mouths what he figures is the outline of Simon's erection until he tastes a little come from the tip, and hears Simon's hips battering off the lockers in desperation and his outdrawn groan that is shockingly, a thousand times more manly than any sound Nathan has made during sex, ever.
There's a lot of shaking, and Nathan's legs fail to support him when he lifts himself back up, so he ends up falling into his new assbuddy and having him attempt to actually devour his mouth, which should be a lot more distressing than Nathan finds it. “Quite the skank,” Nathan observes against the corner of Simon's lips, and the guy doesn't even flinch, or care much at all, he just keeps going about sucking Nathan's face until they both wind up hard again and Nathan ends up getting bent over one of the benches, with less protest than he assumed he'd make and a following joyous discovery that his prostate is pretty much the second greatest part of his body ever, losing to his unbelievably huge cock and just beating his unbelievably sexy eyes. Despite all the halting thrusts and overuse of lips that fooling around with Simon simply entails, Nathan finds being fucked a rather enlightening, mindblowingly hot experience all in all.
“That was rather lovely,” Nathan says amiably as he buttons up his shirt. Simon stares the whole time, in this unnerving rapist-esque manner, and Nathan ignores it, slaps him on the ass, and walks out the changing room, whistling.
As Nathan's life goes, having a fair amount of intermittent shags with a surprisingly decent fuck buddy has become one of the few things to look forward to, as opposed to all the horrible shit in his life right now – for example, being homeless, living in a community centre, being slapped by Kelly, being slapped by his mum, and living off of the steadily decreasing Diet Coke supply in the vendies.
If anything, Nathan is a courteous fuck buddy, but he still feels like it's a little moronic to tell Simon, “Thank you,” when his mouth parts from his cock and Nathan no longer has much interest left in him. Simon would probably take it well, disturbingly well, and his eyes would light up and then he get all horny again and rut against him some more and - Nathan's mind is blank momentarily before he blurts out a wavering, “Thank you.” Then, for good measure, he adds a particularly sexual, “Simon.”
Simon's eyes light up, and his smile is just ridiculously massive before he tugs Nathan against him again and starts grinding.
“Good lad,” Nathan breathes, and then he can't form coherent phrases again for another fifteen – or, you know, three – minutes.
Of course it will end up being problematic. Everything in Nathan's life eventually does. Having immortality as a superpower meant that he had to spend about a month in a coffin, repeatedly losing oxygen, dying, coming back to life, banging on the lid, losing oxygen and dying again. It was a vicious circle, and he was immensely relieved when Kelly visited, heard his thoughts, and set about digging him out. He died in the lengthiness of the act, of course, but she let him lie, dead on her couch, until he started breathing again, and then told him frankly that his superpower was shit, like it was his fault he fell off a roof and got shanked by a fence.
So Kelly's power is sometimes useful, but lately it's becoming gradually more and more of a bother, because Nathan is all sexually confused and really into the whole gay sex thing – which he supposes is a phase, or at least he hopes as much – and most of his thoughts seem to be continuously revolving around fucking Simon, being fucked by Simon, and a few choice Joseph Gordon Levitt scenes from Inception, which are less incriminating until the part comes where Nathan has a cameo in the rotating hallway which proceeds into Joseph Gordon Levitt and Nathan having explicitly sexual, gravity-defying, volatile shenanigans that are in no way relevant to the plot, but he thinks should still have been in the movie anyway.
It is just a matter of time, and Nathan knows it. The truth will come out that Nathan is just a little bit on the gay side and may or may not have some difficulty sitting down at this moment in time, and he hopes that when it does, Kelly will not speak of it to Curtis or Alisha, and will possibly still be up for a shag. It's not like she and Alisha aren't having some confused adolescent adventures of their own, and Nathan has the advantage over her that Curtis has no idea whatsoever about what his girlfriend and her chav friend get up to in the other side of the changing room, and would definitely not take the news well upon finding out.
It doesn't exactly take long for her to notice, though, with a small gasp and the fall of her cigarette. Nathan would damn his hormones if he didn't love them so much, so he settles for staring into her eyes and saying in his head, I like dick; you like fanny. Not a word.
She seems a bit taken aback at first, then makes a face, shoves him, and hisses, “I fuckin' knew it.”
It's also problematic that Simon has a habit of blowing things out of proportion and being horrifyingly intense. Also, the fact that if a person looks at him a certain way he will claim undying love to them and believe it to be requited, which probably explains why Nathan takes it upon himself to steer the poor boy away from people with lazy eyes. The sex is obviously confusing Simon, because he starts hanging around Nathan fully clothed and non-horny, which makes absolutely no sense, really, and even in front of their friends, he'll give Nathan these looks that, somehow along the way, if Nathan read into them, stopped meaning I want to fuck you and started meaning either I think I love you or I'm going to claim pregnancy and then cook your rabbit. It's quite the mind boggler, especially since Nathan thinks he makes it perfectly clear that when neither of them have their legs in the air he doesn't much care for Simon, but it doesn't look like the message really gets through, which is unfortunate, because Nathan was really beginning to like the whole situation they had set up.
During another night of Simon intently staring at him from the end of Nathan's makeshift bed– that goes on a whole ten minutes before he becomes relatively unnerved by it – Nathan tries to push him down onto it and avoid the inevitable conversation as long as possible, but Simon resists, pulls one of those sad little boy faces and says, “I don't like this anymore.”
Of course he has to be all soap-opera about it. Nathan just says, plastered on smile, “What's not to like?” and gives Simon's dick a generous stroke. It half-works, because although he continues to look determined and upset, Simon lets out a groan and bucks into Nathan's hand. Through their whole arrangement, Nathan hasn't been too eager about the kissing, and has in fact never really gone there again, outside that one makeout session in the changing room; it feels too gay, and he's willing to bet his infinite amount of lives he's Simon's first real kiss and going along with more will only make him misconstrue things further, and, in all seriousness, his thin lips have never really looked all too inviting. He decides that desperate times call for desperate measures and pushes an awkward hand through Simon's hair before craning his neck and pressing their lips together.
Simon takes immediate reaction. He holds the sides of Nathan's face and crawls into his lap and then tongue gets involved, and then teeth, and then Nathan is confused as to why they never did this more often because Simon gets really into it and makes the whole kissing boys thing a rather nice experience as far as Nathan's concerned. He sits high on Nathan's hips and starts rocking backwards into his erection which is a distractingly pleasurable situation, so Nathan sits in a bit of a daze for a while with Simon eating his mouth and grinding his dick and gets so mellowed out that when Simon says lowly against his chin, “I want to choke you,” Nathan's terror is mildly diluted.
“Uh,” he says, noticing that despite this frightening turn of events, Simon has not stopped any ministrations, “Could you elaborate on that, please?”
There's a throaty moan into his ear before Simon replies, “Le petite mort. When you orgasm right before dying.” The wheels in Nathan's head start spinning – and subsequently stopping every so often due to oversensitivity in his cock with Simon pretty much rides it through their clothes – and Simon repeats again, like it will help, “I want to choke you.”
Nathan is kind of painfully hard by this point, and blames all bad decisions on this and the fact that trying out some of Simon's weird fetishes might convince the little freak to keep going with their arrangement without question, so he ends up nodding, half-heartedly, dread filling him to his bones. It starts off well enough, fucking Simon the same as usual, with maybe a little more close contact, their foreheads pressing and Nathan's hands pretty much everywhere he can reach out of last minute panic when Simon's thin fingers wrap loosely around his throat and then tighten, and tighten, and tighten, and Simon's ass clenches around his cock the best way imaginable and asphyxiation turns out just a little amazing and all Nathan remembers before all the blood stops going to his head is having the most spectacular orgasm, ever.
One fetishy fuck becomes two, which becomes three, which becomes eight, and so on. The whole 'getting brutally fucked by thin air' thing is an extreme turn on for Nathan for some inexplicable reason. Hot breath comes from nowhere onto the back of his neck, and invisible hands claw at his skin and an invisible dick fucks him almost comically hard, to the point where Nathan has the odd hope someone will barge in on them, mid barbaric, semi-nonexistant sex and see Nathan's hips caving in on themselves violently at random intervals. Hopefully no-one they know, however, because they are all able to put two and two together and realize the image of Nathan getting done by the Invisible Man is most likely in some way related to their other friend who can turn invisible. They'd all probably scream rape too, which would be bad, although understandable, since Simon totally has that look about him, while Nathan would just have his irresistable good looks to blame.
Things get pretty different and strange and weirdly arousing as they go about trying a wide, impressive array of kinks and fetishes and for a while, Nathan is almost sure his dick is about a day from falling off from all the sex that's been had and the wanking while thinking about the sex that's been had that's been had. It is a strange thought, while tied to the bench in the hallway and being violated by his intense friend repeatedly, that Simon has the makings of a true pimp in him, or one of those weird kids with purple mowhawks who work in sex stores. Probably not as weird as being tied to the bench in the hallway by their two pairs of now ruined socks while being violated, but Nathan can't bring himself to care much when Simon squeezes his hips, thrusts, and hits that wonderful little spot in him that feels like heaven; although he doubts heaven is situated so dangerously close to ass territory.
They continue going mindlessly along with this new development, until the day when, early morning, Simon sneaks into his pretend-bedroom without gimp-masks or whips or any of the other shit Nathan is by now expecting, and simply clambers in beside him on the bed. Nathan is to sleepy to make a good aim at the nads, so he just yawns, stretches, and tells Simon warningly, “Calm it, Jack Twist,” when his arm slides around him.
They do end up having sex – which is only to be expected by this point – but this time, it isn't rough or messy or vile; it's just Simon staring down at him with his overly sincere smile, pressing kisses to his face, neck, chest and riding Nathan this weirdly peaceful way with sunlight streaming on him through the window, and it makes Nathan want to vomit fucking everywhere and tell Simon straight up to get out.
Just, you know. After he comes.
Sadly, there is only so long Nathan can delay Simon's need to talk about their feelings and whatnot, as disheartening and generally upsetting as it is, and Nathan thinks he should just let it happen, have a few more enjoyable sexcapades with him, then direct him to some innocent girls waiting arms when their community service is over, after which he will take their probationer worker's still standing one-way ticket to Spain because that is probably the only way he'd get Simon off his tail in the end. It sounds like a plan, to him, and he could totally slut it up in Spain, since he's down with all the new kinks and is pretty much Jesus reincarnated into a sex master. Nathan is all around certain he would be an excellent male prostitute, if the need ever arose.
There are some bumps along the conversation route, because Simon is the least articulate person ever around him, and takes Nathan's admittedly forced eagerness as mockery. Nathan wishes Simon wasn't such a smartass and they could go on canoodling and damn all these stupid consequences and 'feelings', but he also wishes he'd never been struck by lightning or stole from the Pick'n'Mix, and figures that in the end, there's just no real point.
“So,” he begins, with his shiteating grin so friendly it hurts his face, “Let's discuss – what it is that you want to discuss.” He's not saying 'us' or 'this' because that's cliché and this isn't like, Eastenders or some shit, and Nathan makes a good effort to be original at all possible times. Also, talking about it in too much detail is just wrong for him, which isn't exactly his fault because it's not like he can help being a badass – the same way Simon can't help being a weird prick.
“I just,” Simon replies hesitatingly, his voice thick like it goes sometimes, all nervous and deep, “I like you.”
And Nathan can deal with this. This isn't all the proclaiming love and doing it in beds of rose petals like he was half-expecting, this has a semblance of normality which he fully was not expecting. He shoots Simon a genuine grin and reaches a hand out to pat his knee. “I like you too, buddy,” he replies, earnest. “That's cool. That's good. Got that out the way, then.”
Simon frowns, and grabs Nathan's wrist. “No. I like you – a lot.”
“Ditto!” Nathan says cheerfully, and he even leans over and kisses Simon's cheek after another awkward moment for good measure, with hopes that they'll leave it there and just go have a nice little innocent fuck in the toilets or something equally as normal and not distressing. Simon's white face flushes a little, which is a first for Nathan to witness, even though he's seen the guy's orgasm face possibly a thousand times already. It's odd. Like Simon.
“That all?” he adds lightly, standing up. He's feeling a bit expectant, like Simon will pounce from his seat and they'll have at it or he'll break out some handcuffs or some obscure flavoured condoms again.
Simon just touches his cheek, distracted, and doesn't say or do anything back. Nathan makes a face before walking off, and having a vaguely miserable wank in the bathroom to the image of a girl's anatomy, which has become disconcertingly more dull in his mind's eye, but feels like the best cockblock revenge he can really get anyway.
Nathan is certain Simon sneaking into the community that morning was a one time thing, but he shows up again, earlier this time, almost like an apology because he didn't see past Nathan's, “That all?” today to understand he obviously meant they should have had sex ASAP. It's all very weird and confusing, but Nathan is in a pleasant place between sleep and consciousness and when Simon's weight presses on top of him, it isn't exactly a bad feeling. Or when he starts mouthing Nathan's throat. Or when he licks into Nathan's mouth – which is all stale and gross compared to Simon's perpetually minty flavoured gums, but Nathan's horny, as per, and can't give a shit.
A part of him is sincerely concerned over the fact Simon has wormed into his life too much now and he doesn't know what that means, because community service will be over in another few months and, then what? He's seen first-hand how batshit crazy Simon's infatuations get, he's noticed the sudden increase in his screentime on Simon's camera-phone – including the one time he basically taped the back of Nathan's head and a lot of groaning and moaning, which Nathan came across accidentally while skimming through his phone and then just found himself more turned on than creeped out by it.
The fact of the matter is that Simon is just plain intrusive and maybe Nathan should have put a stop to this a while ago. On reflection, he really should have, since now Simon believes there to be some emotional level here that doesn't exist, but that he continues to fall back on anyway. Nathan hates that he has to be the good guy, hates that when Simon starts talking and just doesn't shut up about them or this or whatever, he has to drag him down on top of him and kiss all the coherence away, with a lot of force and even more tongue.
He's getting sick of this no-cock-touching interaction. It's quite the buzzkill.
Simon just sort of collapses on him afterwards, panting heavily against Nathan's skin with his shaky hands scrambling on the sides of the pillow at Nathan's head. “Just go to sleep already, you tit,” Nathan mumbles, tiredly, and Simon stops all his fidgeting and genuinely cuddles into Nathan's chest before falling asleep, soundly.
The problem now is the fact Nathan finds himself painfully wide, wide awake, and has a pretty desperate case of morning glory going on from all the midnight action he just got.
“Christ,” he mutters, shaking his head, one hand going to scratch at his hair and the other to scratch at Simon's. Nathan shoves lightly at his limp frame, then pauses. He sighs, and says quietly, “I better be getting some when you wake up.”