Chapter Text
Warren digs into the pockets of his jeans with anxious fingers until his keys find him and he’s fumbling with them in the doorway. Nathan stands nervously beside him, his hair still sopping wet from the chlorine pool water, and his body pressed close to the wall.
Warren then lets in a sharp breath of cold air, taking the shaking keys and slipping it between the lock. He presses the doorway open and rests his hand on Nathan’s back to guide him inside.
Before this, Nathan had only ever caught glimpses of Warren’s dorky room from the outside—times when his door would be awkwardly flung open, or times where he’d be rushing from the shower to his dorm room. He never particularly cared to study it, but now as he stands center on the carpet, he somewhat admires it.
The whole set up really does remind him of Warren and his dorkiness. Fuck, it might be a curse, even, since Warren is eyeing him while brushing his drying hair from his eyes and kindly pulling off his shirt as he sits on the bed.
His shelves are lined with DVDs and books, mainly about science and chemistry and film, then some action figures scattered between. He has posters of old movies plastered along the wall, which are way different than the types of things Nathan possesses in his own room.
He purses his lips and examines Warren’s room for a time. Warren, though, waits anxiously on his bed, chest now bare, as he hugs his body heat to himself.
He still couldn’t believe this was happening—there was something so exciting about kissing Nathan Prescott—it sent him reeling like a fish out of the water, but his heart and lungs ached for more. Every part of Warren Graham ached for more. He wanted Nathan, and that wasn’t just because he was a good kisser. He was fucking otherworldy—beautiful, but still a fucking asshole, and charming, but a goddamn prick. Warren didn’t care. He fucking wanted him and every part of him.
“Nathan?” Warren coos, and Nathan spins around on his heels with a sort of speed that makes him look desperate.
“Huh?” He looks off, still eyeing Warren’s crowded shelves and posing his action figures in different ways. Warren scoffs.
“Are you…why’re you going through my shit?” Warren squints.
Nathan pauses. “Dunno.”
… Followed by silence. Warren waits patiently. He knows that this is what he wants, you know, being with Nathan fucking Prescott , but there’s still that anxiety that bites at the inside of his cheeks. It leaves a somewhat sour taste in his mouth and on his tongue as he tries to derail his anxiety and focus on the problem at hand: Nathan being feet away. He wants him near. He wants him close. He wants to touch him.
Nathan only looks lost in thought. He stares at Warren’s figures, specifically some rare Donnie Darko figure, and sighs.
“Do you not want to anymore? ‘Cus if you don’t, that’s fine—” Warren starts, but Nathan cuts him off.
“No, I do,” he says. “Hey, do you wanna smoke some pot? I’ve, uh. Fuck.” Nathan rubs his eyes, still heavy with exhaust and some faint sleepiness, but he persists. “y’know what, I’ll just. Run over. Don’t jerk off without me.”
Warren watches him leave. Nathan speeds through the door like he’s the fucking Flash or something, then momentarily returns with his hands stuffed into his pockets. He flips his shirt off and inside out, tossing it carelessly to the floor before placing himself right beside Warren on his crooked bed.
Warren stares in horror—it’s as if Nathan just pulled out fucking cocaine and forced it up his nose. Nathan notices, and he almost laughs. “I fucking knew you’ve never even touched this shit, fuckin’ virgin. Jesus, okay. Fuck.”
“Who the hell do you take me for, baby,” Warren says slowly. “I’ve never even… smoked a fucking cigarette before, let alone weed. I know I’m a nerd-geek-loser, whatever, but… c’mon. That’s just wrong.”
Nathan sticks a joint between his teeth, flicking the wheel of his lighter in front of him. “Wrong? Fuck off. It’s not wrong. It’s… fuckin’... I don’t know, therapeutic. Or whatevathefuck. I’m no expert.”
“I thought you would be,” Warren says with a smile.
“You thought wrong,” he says. Then, “you’re the smart one.”
“Yeah, okay, thanks,” Warren huffs.
Nathan shakes his head with a grin plastered on his face. Warren feels fuzzy.
“That stuffs… so crappy for your lungs, y’know?” Warren says over his shoulder, and Nathan just scoffs.
“Fuck off. You think I don’t know that, bitch?”
“Sorry,” Warren whimpers.
Nathan stares dizzily at his lighter, then rolls his thumb along the edge until a small, blue flame ignites in front of his eyes and darkens the shadows of his soft face, then burns the tip of the joint. Warren watches in awe, simply admiring the way Nathan looks so detached in the dark.
He could be a ghost and Warren would never tell the difference. He looks like some beautiful, mysterious and haunting figure, sitting intimately with Warren on the edge, maybe waiting to be kissed, or maybe waiting for something else. Warren could never know. And he’s okay with that. He’s okay with anything Nathan does.
“Okay, so… what now?” Warren patiently places his chin against Nathan’s shoulder, his hands finding their places on Nathan’s thighs as he sits and inhales, then calmly blows a cloud of smoke from his lips. “ fuuuuuck . Kinda cool.”
“You just… I don’t know , you fuckin’ do it .” Nathan almost looks exhausted, but once his eyes find Warren’s calmer ones, his heart sinks a thousand feet into his ribcage. He adverts, only slightly embarrassed, then asks the question, “you ever heard of shotgunning?”
“Shotgunning. I mean. Not in… whatever… weed terms you have, no,” Warren says. He sits up, his back now straighter than a board, watching as Nathan hesitates to take another drag. “What? Is it bad?”
“Nah,” he says. “you wanna try it?”
“I mean, sure. Okay. Whatever you wanna do,” he says. Then, adds with a smile, “...baby.”
Nathan blushes. His lips quiver from need, but he ignores and presses the joint back to his lips. Warren awaits.
Nathan leans his head back and over his shoulder, squeezing his eyes closed for a moment before grazing his fingers under Warren’s chin and tilting his head forward. Warren’s mouth drops open without hesitation, and Nathan lightly blows the smoke onto Warren’s tongue.
He reddens, dipping his head into his palms and choking on the cloud of smoke—he sputters, trying to find the words, but Nathan only shakes his head and smiles like the fucking Prescott he’s been the whole time.
Warren blinks rapidly, too caught off guard for his own attention and need, then rubs his fists into them. After that, his eyes catch Nathan’s neck and all of the teeth marks pressed into it, along with the bruises that are just now forming and the small lines of Warren’s fingernails digging into his shoulders and down his back.
“ God —” Warren chokes out.
Nathan leans back. “Yeah? You see? Pretty fuckin’ awesome , huh, baby?”
“Yeah,” his throat squeezes out. “ Yeah. Can I try again?”
Nathan brings the joint back to his lips. His chest rises with the movement, then his eyes flutter open. He carefully brings Warren closer, then closer, then unbearably near with his open mouth slightly parted over Warren’s, their lips not quite intermingling, but not quite apart, either.
Nathan gently breathes the air into Warren’s mouth. He lets out a shy gasp and eases his way forward, blowing the smoke from his dry lips while his eyes water and grow slightly tinted. He presses a quick, sloppy kiss to Nathan’s lips—he pulls him closer by the sides of his jaw, breaking apart for air after another rough kiss.
When Nathan draws back, he doesn’t dare to touch his lips. He sits completely lifeless in the smokey air, his hands pinned on Warren’s thighs, their eyes anchored by one another, his breathing uneven and jagged… Warren’s eyes graze his lips again.
“I…I, uh. I like that,” Warren whispers. “a lot. I like it a lot.”
Nathan pulls him closer, taking a final drag and repeats the same process. Their lips press together, but not into a kiss, and Warren shyly moans into Nathan’s mouth as he proceeds.
He closes his eyes. Warren wants nothing more than to completely rid himself of any thought other than Nathan. He wants to kiss him till they bleed, or grab him till he’s sore or hold him till he’s dead.
Warren feels around Nathan’s still, stony face, his eyes half-shut in the sickly, orange glow of the dying joint.
“I wanna, uh…” Nathan struggles to find the words. Warren tilts his head innocently, his eyes lingering on his lips as he carefully pieces together a muffled sentence. “there’s something else… from my… fuckin’ room. That I. Forgot. Do you mind–?”
“Not at all,” Warren says.
Nathan’s eyes stay put on Warren’s soft expression for some time. He awkwardly rises from Warren’s shallow bed and blinks away the blurred spots forming in his red eyes. He’s got a high tolerance, but enough can melt a person.
“ Don’t lose that boner, okay? ” Nathan says with a laugh, and Warren ducks his head in shame.
Nathan slips back out into the void of the hallway much past midnight—he shuffles across the hallway and back into his own room, carefully pushing open the door with an oomf as it becomes unlodged from the lock.
He shuffles an amount of books and papers and photographs around on his cluttered desk, sorting through pages of discarded homework from classes he could care less about to photos he took of Victoria when she’d tugged at his coat sleeve and posed.
After getting rid of the rest of the stubborn joint, he makes it a point to grab his camera from the mess on his desk. He does, then snatches the duct tape on his way back.
Just after turning around, Warren stands, still shirtless, and quietly closes the door behind him. He studies Nathan’s walls for a moment, eyes only slightly widening at the posters lining his bed, then he smiles and approaches with ease.
“So, you’re fuckin’ stalking me now, or what, Graham?” Nathan squints at Warren’s figure as he closely walks towards him in the faint darkness. He can still see that electric smile on his face, though.
“It’s not stalking when you keep leaving me when I need you the most, Nate,” Warren says. “what’s the point of waiting when I can have you whenever I want?”
Nathan shrugs. “Whatthefuck ever .”
Warren takes Nathan by his scarred wrists, holding them up in front of his face and tightening his grip, just enough to make him squirm, but not enough to make him uncomfortable. His face is shadowed by sudden regret and discomfort, but Warren persists and tucks his fingernails in a spot where they can’t poke his skin.
There’s a beat of silence between them. The atmosphere isn’t heavy, nor does it seem to weigh on either of them. Warren gazes longingly into Nathan’s half-closed eyes as fascination washes over his face. Warren studies Nathan’s wrists and his arms, then his shoulders and the marks he left littered around the rest of his neck.
He leans closer, nuzzling his face in the crook of his neck once again, thoroughly leaving kisses and bites along his warm skin. His hands slide along Nathan’s arms to the back of his neck, where Warren grabs him and pulls their bodies closer together while the night goes on outside of Nathan’s half-opened window.
Warren feels a pause as he kisses him—a soft breeze rushes through the window and breaks the contact between them. But Nathan drags Warren closer to his chest, then to his desk, where Warren presses his knuckles to Nathan’s bare skin and shoves him backwards.
He kisses Warren’s lips, then his cheeks, then his jaw and down the rest of his sensitive neck. Warren struggles to breathe as he lets out a quiet, loose whimper and buries his nose in Nathan’s curly hair.
Warren immediately props Nathan up on his messy desk and takes him by the legs, slotting himself right between his thighs as he turns to kissing his lips. He kisses him deeper, then quicker, not quite willing to let his lungs give into their separation. When he gasps for air, Nathan tugs on Warren’s hair and tilts his head to let himself tongue his mouth.
Breaking away, Warren asks through a tired breath, “What’s with all the crap on your desk?”
“Do you fucking mind , retard?” Nathan shouts back, which provokes another sly smile from Warren and his flustered face. “what the hell is your problem? I’m kinda in the middle of something?”
Warren only pouts slightly, his jaw now slack and dotted with kisses. He says, “Sorry, jeez. I was only wondering”—he reaches for the duct tape sitting on the other side of the desk, his head down slightly, face shadowed by strands of chocolate hair in his eyes—“ooh, what’s the duct tape for?”
Nathan quickly snatches it from Warren’s steady hands. “None of your fucking business.”
“What? C’mon, Nathan,” Warren says. “it’s so obvious that you want me to tie you up.”
Nathan’s mouth flies open. He goes to argue, but by now Warren’s already taken the tape back.
He holds it in front of Nathan’s face, a cocky smile still stuck on his face. “I mean, Nathan, take a look around. I have eyes. And I knew you wanted it the second I stepped in here. And look at your fucking face ! Oh my God !” Warren may be laughing, but Nathan’s face remains stoic and frozen in fear. “What? You want it, don’t you?”
He narrows his eyes, primarily focused on the floor past Warren’s feet on the ground. Warren’s fingers graze under his chin, then lift his jaw up till he can finally look at Warren straight.
“Why the fuck would it matter, okay!?” Nathan yells. But Warren only smiles harder.
“Yes or no question, baby, remember? You were telling me this earlier," he says. “you’re contradicting yourself. I need a straight answer.”
Nathan is increasingly dizzy. His mouth goes dry when Warren inches closer and teases him with the tape in hand—his lips quiver in response, and he finally chokes out, “Okay, fine ! You fucking got me, asshole! Just… fuckin’... tie me up already ! Fuck.”
Warren eyes Nathan’s camera. “How about some pictures, too?”
“Oh, fuck off, Gayram. If you even lay a fucking finger on that shit, I’ll gut you. That camera is worth more than your fucking life,” he says sternly. Warren looks pleased. “and if we were to…fuckin’... take pictures of whatever fucking kinky shit you’re into, Graham, it’d be me taking them. Not you. Got that?”
Warren is silent. Eerily so.
“What? Why aren’t you—fuck’s your problem, faggot? God. Why am I even getting into this bullshit with you.”
“Just give me your camera, Nathan,” Warren says with a smile.
Nathan’s not having it. He scrunches up his nose and furrows his eyebrows in regret, but grabs Warren’s arm as he reaches across the desk.
“Warren, I swear to fucking God—” but Warren’s already snatched up the camera and holds it over his head before Nathan can grab it back. “ Warren .”
“You’re really hot when you look at me like that,” Warren says.
“Give me the fucking camera.”
“Make me,” Warren says.
“Do you think this is a joke? Give me the fucking camera, Warren! I’m not kidding!”
Nathan straights out his legs and sets them back on the ground, launching himself over Warren’s arms to grab the camera back—but, just as he gets a grip on Warren’s fist, he’s suddenly hit with the corner of the camera and flung backwards onto the desk.
Warren’s hands fly over his mouth while he stares in shock. “Holy crap! Sorry, sorry!”
“What the fuck did I tell you, Warren—?” His trembling hands cover the fresh gash between the corner of his temple and eye. Blood trickles down the side of his face while Warren just gives him wide eyes. “ Fuck ! What the hell?!”
“Holy crap, I’m so…fucking sorry…” Warren takes a fistful of Nathan’s hair and calmly tilts his head to the side. He eases his hands off of the wound and studies it as Nathan winces in pain. “I’m so sorry, holy shit—”
But Warren makes the mistake of letting out another dry laugh. Nathan notices and grabs Warren tightly by the wrist.
“Why do you always feel the fuckin’ need to laugh at every damn thing you see?”
“I’m not… laughing… this isn’t funny, Nate. I’m not laughing, okay? Just shocked.”
“Keep telling yourself that, sure,” Nathan says. “you’re probably hard as fuck! That shit turns you on, doesn’t it? Seeing others in fuckin’ pain?”
“ What? Where the hell’d you get that idea?”
“What if I kicked your ass? Right here? Would you be…fucking…begging for more, or what?”
Warren scoffs. “You’re just projecting. Damn, Nathan, I didn’t know you were into so much freaky shit.”
Nathan grabs Warren by his throat, squeezing with both hands in a similar manner to how Warren had back at the pool. He digs his fingernails into the back of Warren’s scalp until he’s whining.
“Nathan—” he chokes.
“What, you like that, right?”
Warren winces and wraps his hand around the fingers on his neck. “Uh-huh. Do…do you?”
“Yeah, I fucking do,” he says sternly. “you’re so fucking hot, Graham…e…especially like this—”
Warren lets his eyes closed. His face twists in enjoyment, then agony as his breath shortens. He attempts to pull Nathan’s fingers from his neck, but he refuses to budge.
“Nathan, I can’t—” he lets out a shallow moan before Nathan pulls his hands back. Warren nearly coughs out a storm, but Nathan focuses on the blotchy, red handprints around his throat. “fuck, you’re really into that.”
“Why else would I fucking do it ?!” He shouts back.
Warren returns to smiling. Nathan runs a hand down his face, just barely wiping the blood from the gash on his temple. He grabs Warren by his ears and kisses him harder than before, which sends a jolt of energy down Warren’s bare spine and a nervous smile across his face.
“Warren,” he mutters into Warren’s open mouth. “hit me again.”
“With the camera?”
“Not with the camera, you fucking dumbass!” He grabs Warren’s hand and angles it into a fist just above his nose. “Like that, idiot! With your fucking fist, retard!”
“Gosh, you don’t have to be such an asshole about it, you fucking slut.” Warren rolls his eyes.
Nathan blushes, but ducks his head in shame and scoffs.
“I’m not punching you. I already cracked your friggin’ skull open.”
Warren pulls his hand away. Just as Nathan protests, Warren sends an awkward slap across his face and instantly pulls back with his teeth clenched.
“Fuck,” he sighs. He squeezes his eyes closed, then says, “okay, fine. Take as many stupid fucking pictures as you want.”
Warren lights up. He fiddles around with Nathan’s camera until he grabs it back and flips it on for him.
“Just don’t fuck up. If you mess with my shit, I’ll fucking strangle you. And you won’t like it this time, alright?”
Warren ignores him. He works his way around the duct tape, then pulls Nathan by his wrists and wraps the tape tightly around them.. He cocks his head to the side, and Nathan’s eyes dart away from the embarrassment. But Warren holds him close and brings him off of the desk and over to his straightened bed sheets.
He falls backwards onto his bed—somehow, Warren’s pushed him up far enough that he bumps his head on the wall. He attempts to send his hands up in aid, but they’re still strained in front of him, and that makes him a bit more flustered than before.
To Warren, the thought of Nathan not being able to resist whatever he does to him is incredibly attractive. He’d never really cared for the thought before, but now, Nathan is completely dizzy and accepting below him and his knees. He likes to see him struggling below, his mind foggy and body twitching with need and hesitance. But Warren tries his best to be gentle when Nathan may need it the most, and he slowly presses a trail of kisses along his neck and down his chest to his stomach.
Nathan folds his hands behind his head. Warren loosens the belt on his jeans, then repeats with Nathan’s, carefully slipping it from under the belt loops and discarding it onto the floor.
And Warren roughly kisses Nathan’s lips as he peels his pants off of him.
Nathan makes a small noise, not really sure what point he’s trying to get across, then he goes right back to kissing Warren. He fights his tongue, so incredibly needy and touch starved, tugging at his trapped wrists while Warren rubs his thighs.
He’s so sensitive, so vulnerable, every kiss like a forest fire, every touch so hot it almost burns his skin. He kisses him harder, deeper, their sticky lips pressed together, and Warren runs his tongue along the inside of Nathan’s mouth.
Warren fights off his own pants and forgets about them the second they leave his clenched fist. He leaves kisses and bite marks on Nathan’s thighs and between his legs. Nathan whimpers, so desperate to use his hands in any way he deems possible, yet they’re tied firmly behind his head and there’s nothing he can do about it.
Warren pauses, stretching his arms over Nathan and to his nightstand by the door. He takes the duct tape back into his sweaty palms—he carefully rips a long piece with nothing but teeth, then wraps it tight around his ankles. He squirms, but returns to calm when Warren sticks another hard kiss to his lips.
He pulls Nathan in closer, his skin softer than cotton, completely focused on him—even with the fog in his head, he stares, his mouth slightly hung open like he’s waiting for him.
Warren breaks free, trailing backwards and planting his ass right on Nathan’s lap as he squirms from tension. He holds Nathan’s camera up to his face, squinting behind the lens, then after a few seconds of struggle, the camera snaps and satisfaction washes over his face.
“So I won’t forget you,” Warren says. Nathan only whimpers in response.
He sits up on Nathan’s lap by his knees, angling the camera in such a way that Nathan’s whole body is visible in the frame. He snaps another, then a few more, flipping through the photos every couple shots or so. Excitement flushes Warren’s face—Nathan notices and stiffens his shoulders, but Warren has a way of being discreet about what he likes.
Warren leans over Nathan’s shoulder with his mouth pressed close to his ear. He whispers, “you’re so beautiful.”
Nathan tries to smile, but there’s some unforeseen force stirring in his insides that makes that impossible. He nearly drowns in the fog of his mind before Warren goes to slip his boxers off.
He grabs a tight fistful of his hair and pushes himself against Nathan, choking on spit and air, begging into his mouth—he leans closer, their lips caught in one another's, then spits a line of salvia back into Nathan’s mouth. He watches as Nathan swallows it and flinches helplessly as Warren pulls back.
Warren sticks his shaky fingers into Nathan’s mouth, deeply dragging them along his tongue, then pulling at his teeth. Nathan licks them, and between them, too, panting between each break.
Nathan sucks on his fingers, letting them ease down his throat until he chokes on them—he moans, his teeth nicking at Warren’s knuckles like how a rabbit chews on grass.
He slowly pulls his fingers from between Nathan’s teeth, a string of thick saliva following close behind. The second they leave his mouth, Nathan’s already missing the feeling of his knuckles against his tongue.
Warren pushes Nathan down like a magnet, and he leans back with a heavy head.
“Warren,” he pants, and Warren turns his attention to Nathan and his small voice. Nathan usually speaks with such confidence and volume, it’s hot to see him so quiet and helpless. “I need… fuck… I want you. I want this. I fuckin’..”
“You want me?” He asks, and Nathan nods. “what do you want me to do?”
Nathan hesitates. He looks just about everywhere—he nervously avoids Warren’s strong gaze and bites his cheeks.
“Nathan?” Warren cocks his head to the side. “baby?”
Nathan can only look embarrassed for so long. “I want you to touch me,” he says slowly. Warren doesn’t seem very affected, though.
“What? You just want a handjob? You don’t want me to fuck you?”
“It’s not… it’s not that,” he says. “I just don’t think I could handle it.”
Warren laughs. “Oh, so that’s it?”
Nathan nods. Warren tells him, “That’s funny. I mean, I’ll take it, but that’s still funny.”
“Whatthefuckever,” he mutters. “just fucking do it. You talk too much, Gayram.”
“Jeez, sorry. I didn’t know you had rules for sex,” he scoffs. Nathan scowls at him, but Warren takes that as a compliment. A look from Nathan is more like a reward.
Warren sits up on Nathan’s still thighs and slips his dick into his hand. He wastes no time whatsoever—Nathan’s breath hitches and is caught somewhere in his throat, and Warren works on Nathan’s dick.
His face twists with some unreadable emotion. Warren catches onto this, kissing along Nathan’s collarbones, “I can’t believe you don’t think you can handle me.” He laughs, but Nathan is somewhere else entirely. “baby? You okay? You sure you can even handle this ?”
Nathan raises his hands to make a move, to smack him square in the nose or give him a black eye or something , yet his hands are still bound together and he’s too red to care.
“How many other guys have you done this with, Nathan?” Warren asks, but Nathan can only open his mouth and hope something comes out.
“None. None, Warren, I swear. Only you ,” he whines.
“Are you lying?” He asks.
Nathan desperately shakes his head.
“Are you lying, yes or no, Nathan.”
“No,” he chokes out.
Warren slaps a hand across Nathan’s face. When he draws back, he studies the red hand print on his cheek and cracks a proud smile when Nathan’s mouth opens to moan.
“I’m not fucking lying,” he says. “please, baby…believe me…I’m not…”
“I believe you,” Warren says. He quickens his pace around Nathan’s dick. Nathan reddens. “just wanted to see how you’d react.”
Nathan only makes a small noise. When he chokes out a shy moan, Warren removes his hand and reaches for the camera again. Nathan’s face twitches with disappointment, then embarrassment as Warren snaps a few more pictures of him at his best.
“You’re so beautiful, baby,” Warren calmly remarks. “You look so fucking good.”
Nathan buries his face in his bare shoulder and croaks out another shy moan. Warren pets his hair until he gets a firm grip and pulls, tilting his head up to angle their mouths in each other.
Warren returns to pumping his fist along Nathan’s dick—he pets him like he’s a fucking dog, and Nathan certainly feels like one. He massages the tip of Nathan’s dick as he squirms.
Warren brings himself closer like a magnet, pushing him and his hard dick against Nathan’s thighs. He pumps his fist quicker along, trailing his thumb along the underside and rubbing until Nathan is completely breathless.
“Warren,” he whines. “ baby, I… ”
“You’re okay, baby,” Warren says. He strokes the length of Nathan’s dick, resulting in another sheepish moan from him. “I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry.”
Warren tugs on Nathan’s hair, tilting his head into a circle—he slides his tongue between their lips and carefully knicks Nathan’s wet bottom lip. He spits in his mouth, grazing his fingers along Nathan’s tense jawline as he moans Warren’s name into the back of his throat.
“ Warren…Warren —” He flushes as Warren quickens again, eventually leaning forward and taking Nathan’s dick into his mouth.
Nathan lets out a long gasp—Warren digs his fingernails into the bruises on Nathan’s thighs, his tongue tracing along his length with ease. Nathan throws his head back and his hips up, which Warren holds down with his nails picking at his hot skin.
“Oh my G… fu… fuck, baby, I…” Nathan groans through clenched teeth. Warren runs his tongue along the tip, then the underside, then rubs his hand down the base until Nathan is a mess. “fuck. Fuck. ”
Warren pumps his fist along the base of Nathan’s dick, taking a majority of his length into his mouth and the back of his throat. Nathan’s breath quickens, his forearms squirming behind his head—he whines like a dog, whispering, “Fuck. War…Warren, I’m—”
Warren’s throat opens and closes as he tries to shove him deeper, then slips his dick out from under his tongue and strokes down the base in his hand. “Do you want to?”
“Wh…do I…want what?”
Warren freezes. He stops stroking and pulls his hand back and to his side. Nathan looks like an embarrassed deer in headlights—he hides his face in the comfort of his shoulders, wiping the sheet of sweat from his forehead along the way.
“Nathan.” Warren sits back.
“Why’d…baby, why’d you stop? I need …”
Warren stands up from the bed, taking the camera and duct tape with him. Nathan squirms helplessly—with his wrists and ankles bound, there isn’t much he can do. “Warren. War. War, where are you going? I’m not…”
Warren paces around Nathan’s room for a time, flipping through the photographs he took and the contents on Nathan’s desk. “ Hooooly shit , these pictures are fucking gold,” Warren says with a laugh. “you look. So. Fucking incredible.”
“ War, please ,” he pleads. “I…fu…”
Warren spins around to face him. “What?”
“I need you, please. Please. I need you.”
“I thought you couldn’t handle me, Nathan,” Warren says.
“War—”
Warren returns to the bed and climbs back between Nathan’s thighs. Relief washes over his flushed face as Warren takes his dick back into his mouth and licks along the edges.
“Holy shit. Holy shit. Warren—” And it’s over just as soon as it's started. Warren’s throat closes around Nathan’s dick as he comes in his mouth.
Warren lets go of the base and swallows, slowly pulling Nathan’s softening length from his mouth. He wipes his lips and presses a kiss to Nathan’s hard jaw.
Nathan’s chest rises and falls with each heavy breath. Warren twists his body sideways and sticks himself beside Nathan and into the crook of his neck.
“That okay?” He asks softly, and Nathan twitches with the sorrow of it being over.
“Uh-huh,” he hums.
Warren tears the duct tape off of his wrists with his front teeth, then awkwardly repeats with the tape on his ankles.
The second his hands are free, Nathan brushes his fingers through Warren’s hair and across his sweat-streaked forehead. He lets out a quiet sigh of relief, then closes his eyes as Warren buries himself in his bruised neck.
“Do you think you can handle it next time, Nate?” Warren cracks a crooked smile.
“Shut your fucking mouth, asshole,” Nathan snaps back. “I can handle whateverthefuck I want. You should know me by now.”
“Oh, I dunno, Nate. Kinda looked like you were struggling down there,” Warren teases.
Nathan scoffs as he awkwardly buries his face in Warren’s hair while he sits tucked close to him. “those pictures were really fucking hot.”
“Hmmmm. I’ll take a look later,” he hums into Warren’s hair.
“Is your head okay?” Warren asks, slightly eyeing the gash still present on his temple.
“Fine. Don’t worry about it,” Nathan says. “it was kinda hot, anyways. I don’t care.”
He wraps an arm around Warren’s heaving shoulder and leaves a few warm kisses along his temple.
And Warren can’t help but admire Nathan and his rising chest as he hugs him closer with a shallow breath.