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Carter’s face twisted in anguish, his head jerking back and forth, sobs catching in his chest, heartbreaking apologies spilling from him in waves of guilt and pain,I’m sorry I picked sir over you.
At some point, Nathan loses the battle, Carter’s ghost luring him back to the bedroom. It’s the dead of night. Nathan is still soaked in scotch and confusion. The boy is asleep on their bed, illuminated by the soft light they always keep on for him near the door. The little stuffed moose Carter loves so much is hooked around his thumb, resting in the palm of the boy’s open hand.
He looks at peace, no trace of the nightmare from before in his expression.
Nathan startles when Carter suddenly stirs awake, his eyes locking with Nathan’s. The boy pushes off the mattress with one hand, scrubbing at his face with the other. “Sir?”
“Hey, sweetheart,” Nathan says softly, his voice embarrassingly rough. “Hope I didn’t wake you.”
“You’re fine. What are you doing?” Carter looks over at the spot on the bed where Nathan should be before looking back at Nathan again. “Come to bed.”
Nathan hums softly. “I’m not tired. You go back to sleep. Get some rest. You still have a few more hours.”
“I’m not tired either.”
“Carter…”
“Are you still Nathan?” Carter asks tentatively.
Nathan sighs. “Yes.”
“Then come to bed, Nathan. Please.”
This is a bad idea. Nathan is far too drunk, and coming off of a major emotional breakdown. He should not be crawling into bed with this boy. Lord only knows what idiotic things he’d do or say.
“Please,” Carter says once more, voice so impossibly soft.
All of Nathan’s self-restraint melts away. It’s almost laughable that he thought he’d be able to resist at all. He’d give this boy the world if he could.
Nathan stands up, sliding his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants as if that’ll keep him from reaching out and mauling Carter. He pauses at the foot of the bed to level Carter with a serious look. “If I come to bed, are you going to get some sleep for me?”
Carter nibbles on his bottom lip, forcing Nathan to swallow a moan. Then he shakes his head.
Nathan raises an eyebrow. “No?”
“No,” Carter confirms. “I want to do something else.”
“Oh?” Nathan leans forward, pressing his hands into the mattress on either side of Carter’s legs. He smirks when he hears Carter’s breath hitch. “And what is that? Watch another Harry Potter movie?”
That gets Carter to grin. It’s a playful expression. Mischievous. Nathan’s cock hardens, lust coursing through his veins as he considers what the boy might have in mind. His suspicions are confirmed when Carter says, “I want you to fuck me.”
Nathan doesn’t manage to swallow his moan this time. He reaches down to adjust himself, liking the way Carter’s heated gaze locks onto his erection far too much. He tries to remind himself that this is a bad idea. A terrible one, in fact.
“I’m rather drunk, sweetheart.” Part of Nathan wants to scare Carter off. The other part wants to tell the truth just so he doesn’t have to be guilty when he gives in to his desire. “I’m not sure how gentle I’ll be able to be with you tonight.”
“That’s never stopped you before.”
“This wouldn’t be like before.” Nathan rests a knee on the mattress to bring himself closer to Carter before wrapping a hand around the back of his neck. He squeezes. “You still have your consent, Carter. It’s not morning yet.”
“I know.” Carter shifts on the bed, leaning forward until their noses are bumping. “And I’m using it. Fuck me, Nathan. Fuck me like I’m yours. Like what we had today could be real.”
The hand on the back of Carter’s neck tightens without Nathan’s permission. Instead of apologizing, he uses his grip to yank Carter forward, smashing their lips together. The kiss is brutal. Frantic. A sudden fear rises up in Nathan, like he’s never going to get to do this again; he’s never going to be lucky enough to have this again. He grabs at Carter every chance he gets, squeezing his neck, pulling his hair, shoving him onto his back, dragging him closer, pulling him this way and that. He tears Carter’s shirt off of him – literally, he hears the threads rip – before hooking his fingers into his underwear and dragging them down his long legs.
Then Carter is stretched out before him like a goddamn buffet of seduction. He replaces his wandering hands with his mouth this time, licking and sucking and nipping at all of the sensitive flesh on his boy’s body. His calves. His inner thighs. The subtle creases of his pelvis. He noses along his too-thin stomach. Drags the tip of his tongue teasingly around his nipples.
“Please. Please, Nate,” the boy begs, his hips rolling against Nathan. “Fuck me.”
“Patience.” Nathan nips at Carter’s shoulder. His trap. His throat. The hinge of his jaw. There’s an animalistic part of himself that’s demanding that he mark this boy. Claim him as Nathan’s. Only Nathan’s.AlwaysNathan’s. “Mine. Mine, Carter. All mine. You’re mine.”
