Chapter Text
It starts just screwing around.
It's been a while, to be honest, and Nathan's reached the 'getting horny at models in the free catalogues' stage; and he was never what you'd call choosy, even in the rare times he's been in what he'd class as a relationship.
He takes the piss a little out of all of them, bored, wanting a reaction.
He's surprised at it being the chavvy girl, Kelly, that revs his engine. He'd have thought Alisha, all short skirts and mimed blowjobs would be more his style; but Kelly's got something, whether it's the big, blue eyes; or the severe hairstyle, like a teacher from a porno, about to spank you; or maybe, just a little, the soft sincere look in her eyes when she rambles about coming back for them.
Nathan would have run as fast as his legs could carry him, and the rest of these cunts would too, he'd bet, and getting to know them further, he can't imagine that opinion changing. In fact, besides his mum, Nathan doesn't know anyone who'd piss on him if he was on fire, and here's this Jeremy Kyle reject, ready to race back and save their motley crew.
So he's surprised when it comes to his nightly tug to find that, when he's stuck for images, it's not what's-her-face joining Kelly for a catfight before kiss-and-make-up; or even Curtis Donovan, undeniably fit, even if he is an uptight prick; but instead, he finds himself thinking about that odd kid.
Nathan's never felt weird about a wank before, even that time he was at his auntie's and had to resort to a tampon leaflet for material; but he does sort of wonder what's up that he can get off to an obvious virgin with a spoddy haircut and an apparent tendency for arson.
But something about those huge, fish-like eyes, always staring at him, so hard he can feel them on his back; filming everything like the world's least likeliest porno director; and that expressive mouth, twisting in revulsion, hanging open in shock, leering pervily, or gasping in what Nathan suspects is the face he probably makes while coming.
And yeah, okay, it’s cliché, but the virgin thing, a little. He needles the guy a couple of times, each expecting that this time, he'll bite back with the predictable denial, each time a little more hyped as Simon just takes it, no rebuttal. Nathan brings up sex, wanking almost every time he speaks to him, more and more fascinated, until he's got a respectable half-one most of the day.
It’s kind of sexy, someone their age, all pure, untouched, waiting for the first time, like a bride, it did it for him on it’s own; but then the filth spewed out under Alisha's touch, so nasty it even takes Nathan aback?
An untouched body, no, not with Curtis' cut abs or Kelly's perfect tits, but still, stocky, surprisingly muscled; combined with a dirty, horny, gagging for it mind? Nathan defies anyone not to have a quick shuffle, it’s an idea scientifically designed to wank over, for christ’s sake.
Curtis had stepped back, bewildered, but Simon's knees gave out completely, as if he's come right there, unable to stand under the weight of his desire.
Nathan thinks about it, even as they’re burying the probation worker. He also thinks about how quickly the odd kid offered to hide the bodies, how he gazed at the corpse in the locker; and while he’s no pussy, he doesn't mind admitting, at least to himself, that it's a little scary; but somehow it just turns him on even more.
At home he could carefully prepare for a wank, crack out the magazine collection, some lube if he's feeling fancy; or with his current budget, more likely spit or hand soap, and toilet paper. But tonight, even in the community centre, dark and, fine, a bit creepy at night; he can't bring himself to wait, doesn't need photos, a few tugs, and he’s spilling over his fist and onto his bare stomach, pulling his own nipples a little; before groping blindly for a sock, eyes half closed, panting.