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They’re already fairly excited by the time Nathan slams and locks the door shut behind the pair, snickering and pushing Nathan’s hands off their waist. He’d been like that all the way down the hallways to his room, getting progressively more handsy the closer they got, starting with hands slipping beneath Notim’s trench coat to grasp at them through their shirt all the way to basically grabbing their dick through their pants. Nathan is holding them by their shoulders now and pushing them into the nearest wall, forcing their legs apart with his. He has this look on his face like he’s about to go in for a kiss, but he dips his head down past their face instead before they even have a chance to purse their lips.
Notim’s dick jumps in their pants once they feel teeth dig into their collarbone - which Nathan does very much feel, seeing as he’s got his thigh pressed between their legs. They’re sort of pinned against the wall as a result of the position that they’ve ended up in, so they start grinding against Nathan’s leg to relieve themselves instead of trying to squeeze a hand between themselves and Nathan. A small wave of relief washes over them when Nathan reciprocates, raising his leg a little higher, really kneading into his partner’s dick and balls. They make this small, awkward choking noise, tipping their head upwards to allow Nathan easier access to their neck and collarbone, adams apple bobbing as they swallow. It feels thick when they do so, weirdly.
Then, Nathan leans back all of a sudden, wiping spit from his lips. He starts pawing at the sleeves of Notim’s coat, making attempts in vain to pull them down their arms. Notim damn near twists their arm off trying to wriggle out of the sleeves, the leather falling into a heap on the floor. “Cmon, cmon,” Nathan says (only a little pathetically), tugging Notim all the way to his bed and practically throwing them onto the mattress. “Someone’s in a hurry,” they comment offhandedly, rolling over onto their back. “Yeah, no shit.” Nate already has his fly undone. “Christ, dude.” He mutters while pushing the hem of Notim’s shirt just above their navel, planting a kiss that’s mostly just tongue on the trail of hair leading down into their waistband.
“Gross, Nate. And weird. You’re so fucking weird.”
Nathan promptly leaves another spot of saliva on Notim’s stomach.
“Just suck my dick already, stop dragging this out.”
They’re expecting a quip back, or for Nathan to start pulling their pants down or something, but instead he reaches behind him and pulls something out of his pants’ back pocket.
“You’ll like this more,” he responds after what feels like a few seconds too late, pressing the barrel of a small revolver to Notim’s lower abdomen. They pull back from what Nathan assumes is the gun being cold.
“That’s mine, dickhead.”
“Thought it’d make this more personal for you. Yes, it’s loaded, by the way.”
“I know. You gonna shoot my dick off?”
“Don’t tempt me,” Nathan muses, pulling the waistband of Notim’s cargo pants just past their dick so it flops onto their stomach. He gets on his knees at the end of the mattress, holding his partner’s hip with one hand and turning the gun so that the muzzle is facing him with the other. He has to hold the grip a tad odd to be able to rub the barrel vertical against the underside of Notim’s dick, but he’s rewarded with Notim fucking up against the gun. They’ve got themselves propped up on their elbows, staring right back at Nathan. They don’t make a sound though; too afraid to drop the stoic mask that they’re barely keeping on as is.
Nathan moves the gun again, just a little, but it’s enough for him to see Notim’s dick visibly twitch. They’ve gotten the idea at this point, reaching forward and grabbing both their dick and the barrel of the revolver, starting to languidly jerk themselves off. Nathan has to peel their fingers off themselves, tutting at them in a mocking manner - “Nah-ah-ah. I didn’t say you could use your hand,” he says, holding their hand above their dick. Notim groans and sends a gravelly fuck you Nathan’s way, but there’s no real heat behind it. And they’re actually doing as they’re told, so clearly they can’t be that upset about only being allowed to rub their dick against the gun.
At the angle they’re frotting with the revolver at, it’s not so bad. They can get something out of this, at the very least. God, they probably look fucking stupid though, they think, rutting into the weapon again. They glance to their left and wonder if Nathan would object to them reaching over to grab a pillow so that he can’t see the stupid face that they know they’ll pull when they orgasm. They extend an arm towards the nearest one, but it’s totally out of reach. Damn Nathan and his unnecessarily huge bed. “Don’t even think about it,” he suddenly perks up from where he was laying his head against Notim’s thigh, hitting the poor guy’s dick with the muzzle of the gun - with considerable force.
“Fuck! Could’ve just said no!” They spit, legs tensing, hand darting back down to cup their dick protectively. Nathan smirks. “I thought I said no hands. C’mon, move.” He pokes their fingers with the revolver. They’re skeptical of his intentions, but they move their hand again after reasoning with themselves. They should have second guessed themselves; they realise that when Nathan stands up again and crawls onto the bed next to them. He’s got his pants part way down his thighs, allowing Notim quite the view of the bulge showing through his briefs. “And you call me gay. You’re not even trying to hide it.” Nathan remarks, interrupting them. They glare back up at him in a pause, trying to think of something to say to deflect. Nothing comes to them.
“That’s what I thought.” Now their jaw is getting forced open while Nathan sticks the gun in their mouth. They try to protest, but it only ends up with them opening their jaw a little more to allow the entire barrel of the weapon to enter their mouth and press down on their tongue. It’s almost hitting the back of their throat, but they are able to control themselves enough so that they don’t gag. They blink up at Nathan, and their eyes are criminally pretty at that moment, he thinks, placing his free hand on the crown of their head. “Suck it.” And they do, the subservient little freak, drooling on the metal while they make an uneven seal on it with their lips. If they looked stupid before, they looked fucking ridiculous now - but Nathan is far too hard to even notice.
Nathan’s happy with what he’s seen, so he slips the weapon out of Notim’s mouth. At least that’s what they think is happening. They quickly discover that they’re entirely, devastatingly wrong when Nathan places the gun aside and sticks two of his fingers down their throat instead. Now that he has full control, he reaches his fingers down on purpose to force their gag reflex. They’re coughing and sputtering on his hand, but he works his way even further down, somehow. He’s smiling. Sadistically. And maybe that look goes right to Notim’s dick, but that’s their business.
Nate grunts above them, curling his fingers against the front of their throat. Tears have started making an appearance at the edges of their eyes, which they try to blink away, but it’s a futile effort and only gets their eyelashes wet in the process. And then they want to ask Nathan to stop so that they can breathe, but that also gets them nowhere, their words coming out as incoherent open-mouthed groans instead. They’re getting manhandled - literally - which they really don’t want to admit that they’re enjoying, even to themselves. It’s paradoxical. And ironic. And straight up humiliating.
“It’s fucking adorable that you think you can still talk,” he purrs - really, fucking purrs - gripping the roots of Notim’s hair and holding them still while he forces a third finger down their throat. They try to cough him up amidst their throat getting bullied by each fingertip. It’s around then, as well, that they start to taste their own stomach acid. Their stomach writhes.
Oh. Oh.
Nathan doesn’t say anything, just smiles, while Notim hastily rolls onto their side as they’re already spitting up the contents of their stomach. The bile is jet black and shiny coming up onto the bedsheets, and Nathan is finally able to remove his fingers from their mouth, so that it can be expelled easier. He palms at the tent in his underwear until they finish. When they do, they’ve got their head bowed down while they pant and whimper and mumble things that sound like they’re meant to resemble words, but are really just mindfucked gibberish. Nathan readjusts his grip on their hair.
“You’ve made a mess, dude.”
He receives a weak whine in response.
“You know you’re gonna have to clean it.”
That time, he doesn’t get a response out of them, but he doesn’t need one because he was going to make them do this either way. ‘This’ being Nathan forcing Notim’s face back into the vomit they’d just spat up, smearing it on them and into the sheets. “Cmon, clean up,” he’s telling them repeatedly in this self-satisfied tone, while Notim chokes on their own bile. They don’t have a choice if they don’t want to drown via getting waterboarded in their own sick, so it’s getting sucked back down their throat and into their stomach. It burns when it goes down, but that’s the least of their problems. Nathan yanks their head back up so that they can catch their breath, which they do, obnoxiously loud. They look even more out of it than they did before, pupils not even moving to meet Nathan’s now. He releases their hair, leaving them to curl up in their vomit.
“Fine. We’re done here. You look like you’re gonna pass out.”
Notim can hear the faint sound of Nathan doing his pants back up before he walks out of the room. At least, they think they can.