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somedaylazysomeday · 2 years

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Winner Take All - Part Two

Nathan Bateman x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Almost ten years after graduation, you run into Bateman again. You still aren't impressed.

Rating: Explicit, lemon, etc. Minors DNI!

Word Count: 7,000

Warnings: mentions of alcohol and drunkenness, bad language, references to events at the end of Ex Machina, crassness, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected piv, creampie.

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A little more than a decade after graduation, you were settled comfortably in a chair that cradled you like something precious. You had a drink in your hand and your phone in your lap. Not your business phone, either. Your personal phone. Since you had started Primary, you had refrained from combining the two, and it meant you could leave your work phone at home on your nights off and avoid any distractions.

After all, you couldn’t disturb the haven that was trivia night at the Estuary.

The decision to move back to Cambridge, Massachusetts hadn’t been one you made lightly, but it was also the easiest choice you had made in a long time. When you had left almost a decade before, the move had been accompanied by a sense of poignant loss. You had loved your time here, and coming back held a sense of homecoming that was comforting given everything else that was going on.

You had worked for the same company for almost ten years after graduation. After starting out on the research team for vasculitis, your focus soon shifted from research to drug development for a potential treatment you had helped identify. You were moved to the Celiac disease team after the drug was successful. You were proud of the work you had done there, but when a position opened up on the multiple sclerosis team, you had lobbied for it. Apparently, the reputation you had gained and the papers you had published worked in your favor, since you got the position and made several important connections besides. After years on the multiple sclerosis team, you had been next in line to lead it.

All your work hadn’t gone unnoticed, and the Vice President of Development had asked you to check out the Cambridge market, scope out the potential for a Massachusetts branch. You were a natural choice since not only had you gone to school there and were familiar with the area, but you also knew what to look for in several key departments.

You had reported back favorably. The biotechnology industry was busy, especially in nearby Boston, but there were several key market segments that weren’t being served. You wouldn’t pretend you didn’t harbor hopes of being assigned to that branch, either.

Unfortunately for those hopes, the company had chosen not to open a branch in Massachusetts. And unfortunately for the company, you had decided to do it yourself. Was it an insane thing to do? Yes. But you knew the area, you knew the field, and you had the contacts. You had applied for grants before you even left your old company and, as an alum, you had secured a place in one of MIT’s business incubators. You had filed the paperwork just before you moved here and you were the proud founder of your own biotechnology company, Primary Enterprises.

It had taken off, and you had been steadily growing for the past three years. The work was varied and interesting. Your interests always skewed closer to biotech than business, but you liked to think you were doing fairly well running Primary. You were busy, though, so your limited free time was spent doing things you loved, like going to the Estuary for a round or two of trivia.

Your first time back here, you had felt like a washed-up creep, trying desperately to relive your college glory days. Pushing that mindset away had been a process, but well worth it. You had played trivia in college because you enjoyed it. Why should that change simply because you were older?

With a slow, savoring sip of your drink, you watched the screen. Trivia still wasn’t incredibly popular, but it drew a few people. Usernames trickled in, surrounding your usual Champ until you could hardly pick it out in the crowd.

Though when The Conqueror flashed up onto the screen, you saw it without any trouble.

It felt like your heart stopped as you scanned the familiar interior of the Estuary, comparing your memories of Bateman against theories of what he might look like now. At last, you caught a glimpse of him.

He was sitting at the bar, chatting with Noor, Mira’s husband. They took turns bartending while the other watched their adorable daughter. Bateman turned his head to the side, glancing at a nearby group of students who had gotten noisy. It was tricky to recognize him with the way he had shaved his head and let his neat beard grow into something wild and bushy, but you knew that nose, proud and strong with glasses perched on its bridge.

When you had positively identified Bateman, you relaxed back into your chair. The adrenaline that had flooded your system eased off, but your heartbeat picked up. You hadn’t thought about him in years, so you weren’t about to approach him.

But… you mused, firming your jaw. But maybe you could beat him. You were, after all, older and wiser. You had accumulated more knowledge than you ever had in college.

As the game started and you began rolling through the questions, it seemed that wasn’t going to be the case. Maybe you had learned some things over the past decade, but Bateman apparently had, too. You were never ranked further down than third place on any question, but if you were ranked first, The Conqueror was second. He was beating you again.

You played fervently, your attention rapt on the screen in front of you or the smaller screen of your phone, but it was no use. You lost, a somewhat distant second place to The Conqueror’s first.

After the final scores appeared on the screen, you glanced at the bar only to feel an odd surge of disappointment. Bateman was gone.

The spike of regret was an unwelcome surprise. You took a moment to puzzle that out while you finished your drink. The best theory you came up with was that you were sad to miss an opportunity to catch up with someone from your past, even if you had never particularly cared for the young genius.

Ah, well, you decided, pushing yourself up and out of the comfortable armchair. You had other things to focus on. You had unwound slightly from the pressures of the day, but Primary Enterprises would take up most of your attention for the rest of the night and the entirety of the next day. Maybe you could sneak in some planning when you got back to your apartment. If you were going to continue competing with some of the bigger biotech companies, Primary would need to push for something innovative…

You had waved goodbye to Noor and were within sight of the exit when you felt fingers close around your wrist. You turned sharply, raising your eyebrows in a way that took your resting bitch face to an incredibly active bitch face.

“Whoa, whoa,” the man entreated, releasing you immediately. “Just wanted to say hello.”

Despite having seen Bateman from across the Estuary earlier, you hadn’t recognized him then. It was the glimmer of mischief in his intense eyes that finally made you remember. “Bateman.”

He grinned, looking you up and down while you took the opportunity to do the same to him. Bateman was even more muscular than he had been as a student. Apparently, he had kept up with the workout routine even after he had graduated. That beard was a wild thicket around his jaw, but it made his teeth gleam, turning his familiar smile into something blinding. His glasses were more stylish, the frames thinner and better suited to the shape of his face.

Bateman opened his arms, his plain shirt straining across his chest with the motion. For an unbalanced moment, you thought he was inviting you in for a hug, but it became clear that he was gesturing to the table. “‘Bateman’? Is that seriously all I get after a fuckin’ decade? Sit down, talk for a minute! We gotta catch up.”

You settled into the chair across from him - mostly because he had kicked it out with such force that you were worried it would break your knees if you didn’t sit down in it - but before you could ask why he was in Cambridge, he spoke.

“What have you been up to for the past… how long has it been? I dunno, a decade?”

He knew exactly how long it had been, unless he’d suffered a life-altering concussion at some point that you hadn’t heard about. Still, you humored him, your excitement at catching up with a familiar face outweighing the fact that you didn’t remember liking him very much.

“Well, I’ve started my own biotech company,” you started, the familiar words falling from your lips even as they curved into a polite, professional smile. “We mostly focus on auto-immune diseases, but we’re looking to expand into the hormone therapy field. We’ve been-”

“Yeah, yeah,” he interrupted, cutting your elevator pitch short with the wave of a hand. “I mean, what have you been doing? Outside of the company?”

“Out- I mean, not a lot,” you stammered. “Primary takes up a lot of my time…”

Bateman tsked at you and you started remembering just how much you hadn’t cared for him in college. With your temper sparking, you leaned forward enough to catch his eye. “And what about you? From all reports, you’ve made Blue Book your entire personality.”

“That isn’t true,” he countered. “I also box.”

His expectant look, aimed at you from just over the top frame of his glasses, irked you. You snapped, “I don’t know what you want me to say, Bateman. I started a company, we’re competing against companies with more people and bigger budgets and it’s completely taken over my life. Happy?”

“No,” Bateman denied. “I could have gotten all of that from your LinkedIn profile. You really need to change that fuckin’ picture, by the way. That sweater was doing you no favors.”

You stared at him, wishing you could come up with something scathing to say about his appearance, but other than the bottom-heavy look earned with the combination of his shaved head and full beard, you had nothing. “You’re an asshole.”

“You knew that,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, and I chose to talk to you anyway when I could have been spending my time doing more important things,” you bit out. “Like rearranging my sock drawer by color or cleaning my ice-maker.”

To your displeasure, Bateman seemed to find that hilarious. His head tipped back as he gave a loud laugh. When he returned his gaze to you, he had to wipe a tear from his eye. “I’ve missed this,” he said, gesturing back and forth between himself and you. “Our little will-they/won’t-they back and forth. Too bad you graduated and fled the state before we could get to the resolution last time, huh?”

If brains were capable of creating audible noise, yours would have made the iconic sound of a computer making a dial-up connection. When the screeching finally faded enough to allow you some semblance of thought, you managed, “You need to get out of your mom’s basement and interact with real people more often. There was no back and forth.”

Bateman’s eyebrows rose in sharp skepticism as he tilted his head to peer over his glasses at you once more. “Yeah? What do you call all of this, then?”

“Irritation!” you burst out, standing up. You thought briefly of trying to deliver a parting shot, but it wouldn’t be worth the effort. Instead, you simply turned and left.

To your displeasure, Bateman was at the next trivia night as well. You weren’t proud of it, but you had researched him when you got home. Apparently, Blue Book had a conference scheduled in Cambridge. You couldn’t get too pissy; it had been on the company’s calendar for a full year. But at least it was starting that weekend. Odds were that Bateman would be gone before you ran into him again.

The second time you saw him at the Estuary, you rationalized that the conference may have run longer than expected. After all, you hadn’t researched how long Blue Book conferences lasted. For all you knew, it was a week-long affair. Bateman beat you soundly at trivia that week and you were looking forward to it being the last time that happened.

The next week, Bateman was still there. Maybe he had some administrative stuff to handle before he went back to… wherever it was that he lived. You did manage to beat him in that trivia game, but only because a swarm of college students - most of whom were decked out in Schwarzman sweatshirts - distracted him during a few pivotal questions. He didn’t look happy, but he did salute you with his beer bottle as you left for the night.

When his shaved head still showed up the following week, you’d had enough. “What are you doing here?”

He had turned slowly, rotating on his barstool to face you with his thick brows already raised. “It’s a public place, sweetheart. I’m allowed to exist in those.”

The old endearment rankled just as badly as it had ten years before. “Don’t call me that. Why are you so determined to exist here all of a sudden?”

“Someone told me I need to interact with real people more often,” Bateman said dryly. You rolled your eyes and left.

Nearly another month had passed when Amber sent you a screenshot of an article about how Blue Book was opening a branch in Cambridge. Beneath the image, she wrote, Weird, huh? Guess he’s trying to take advantage of all the interns and graduates from Schwarzman.

The following week, you managed to beat The Conqueror, and it was by such a wide margin that you took a screenshot of the results. Halfway through sending it to your old college friends, a silhouette came between you and the nearest lamp. “What the fuck?”

You glanced up, unsurprised to find that the demand had come from Bateman. You answered the likely-rhetorical question as you finished your message. “It’s called a cell phone, genius. I would have thought a tech guy would know that.”

“First off, that’s hardly a phone. It’s so old, I half-expect it to have a slide-out keyboard… or a rotary dial,” Bateman mocked. “Secondly, you’re cheating.”

“Cheating?” you repeated immediately, lowering your phone. “I am not! If anyone is cheating, it’s you!”

Noor was nearby, gathering up empty glasses and wiping down tabletops. He paused, frowning at both of you. “The system doesn’t really allow-”

“Leave it,” Mira told him, tugging on his elbow to lead him away. “This has been a long time coming.”

“I’m not cheating!” Bateman denied, outraged. “But this is the second time this month that you’ve beaten me. It’s statistically unlikely to the point of near impossibility. You have to be cheating.”

“Well, I’m not,” you replied, crossing your arms childishly. “Maybe you’re getting dumber.”

“I’m not even gonna dignify that with a response,” he told you. “There’s only one way to make sure you’re not Blue-Booking answers: I’m gonna sit by you on trivia nights.”

You were halfway through rolling your eyes - already preparing a reminder that genericization wasn’t a good thing - when the second part hit you. “Fine, then I’ll be able to prove that you’re the one who’s cheating!”

So that’s how trivia nights went from that point on. Over time, you decided that, since you were sitting together, you might as well split a pitcher of beer. Then it turned into beer and an appetizer or two. Then, suddenly, you were hanging out even on non-trivia nights.

One such night found you playing a game of pool at the Estuary. Nathan lined up his shot, calling “Fourteen, corner pocket.”

You scoffed. “Bateman, there are a half-dozen balls between fourteen and the cue. There’s no way you’ll make that shot.”

“Yeah?” he asked, then hit the cue ball with a decisive motion. To your shock (and childish dismay), it avoided all obstacles before cracking into the fourteen ball, which sank neatly in the corner pocket. Nathan turned to you with a cocky grin. “I’m the master of everything around me.”

You were both a little tipsy by this point, which was the only reason you brought up the one subject you had steadfastly avoided up to that point: “So that wasn’t you who got stabbed by your own AI last year?”

Nathan’s face froze for a split second before he recovered. “Nope, not me.”

“Hmm…” You drew out, squinting at him. “For the founder of a major company, you’re a shitty liar.”

Nathan scoffed. “How dare you? I am an extremely gifted liar. It just so happens that I’m telling the truth about this.”

“Mm hmm,” you hummed, carefully broadcasting your skepticism.

“Come on,” he continued, “none of those articles even mention me.”

“That’s exactly my point,” you argued. “The mysterious ‘sources’ mention a tech mogul and every damn news source spent the next month speculating over who it could be… but none of them mentioned you.”

Nathan avoided your eyes, sinking the ten ball instead. You ignored his lack of ability to take turns and continued with your pet conspiracy theory instead. “You’ve spent the last decade making sure you’re linked with any mention of ‘tech’ or ‘genius’ or ‘innovator’. It was suspicious. You’re notable in the blank spaces, Nathan.”

He glanced up at you, dark eyes wide with surprise. You realized too late what you had done. You made a point to call him ‘Bateman’, though he had been ‘Nathan’ in your mind for a while now.

“I-” Nathan paused, the tip of his tongue coming out to sweep over his bottom lip as his brows furrowed. “I… I think that’s a song. Did you just rip off Taylor Swift?”

You paused for a moment. He was uncomfortable and you couldn’t blame him. Instead of pushing this, you decided to give him a momentary reprieve. With a loud snort, you said, “Maybe if I was talking about getting your name tattooed on my body.”

“Great idea! You should,” Nathan agreed, his eyes sweeping down over your form. His gaze was so heavy, you could almost feel its weight. “Do I get to help decide where?”

“To be clear, I’d rather die.”

“Pity. Anything would look good…” He paused, letting the silence stretch for a beat too long. Wildly, you wondered if he was going to compliment you, but he finished, “-with my name on it.”

You rolled your eyes. “That just makes me feel bad for your chauffeur. You must get crazy horny when you drive past the massive Bateman building Blue Book is constructing downtown.”

“Oh, you’ve seen that?” Nathan asked, perking up slightly.

“You’ve made it hard to miss.” You took advantage of the less-crowded pool table to sink three balls in rapid succession.

“It’s gonna be great!” Nathan enthused. “I’ve already started a program with MIT to work with their students, offer internships and stuff. I’m even starting a scholarship program for promising students. I’ll pay their MIT entrance fee and tuition if they sign on to work for Blue Book afterward… Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m not stupid, Bateman,” you told him. “I can recognize a misdirection when I see one. You were the one in the news, weren’t you?”

“No,” he insisted stubbornly.

Your gaze fell to his torso. “You would have to have a scar. You’re vain, but not vain enough to get plastic surgery for something that could be hidden so easily.”

There was something hollow around his eyes despite the salacious grin he sent your way. “If you’re so desperate to get my shirt off, you could just ask.”

You shook your head, recognizing the end of the conversation. “For the record, I’m glad you’re okay.”

His mouth opened, but no sound escaped him. You bent your attention back to the game, sinking the eight ball. “I win, Bateman.”

“Have I ever mentioned how much I hate spending time with you?” Nathan complained. “And, for the record? I liked ‘Nathan’ better.”

Problem was, you did, too.

Trivia nights were lasting longer and longer for you and Nathan, and that wasn’t the only change in the Estuary. Mira had gotten rid of the armchair in your typical section. It had been old and worn-looking, but when you complained about the change, Mira had told you that it was damaged in a drunken fight and couldn’t be repaired. She’d had to throw it away, but she had replaced it with an extremely comfortable couch. Unfortunately, that couch was just barely long enough for two people to share.

…Which was how you had ended up in your current circumstance. You and Nathan had been sitting together during trivia and you simply hadn’t moved apart after the game ended. Now, it was several hours later and you were curled up on the small couch together.

You were leaning into Nathan and his head was resting on your shoulder. Your feet were propped on the small table in front of you. Nathan had mocked you for it, but you didn’t see the harm. The only thing on the table was an empty beer pitcher, two mostly empty glasses, and a plate that had once held an appetizer trio.

He mumbled something that you didn’t quite catch. You hummed absently, the inflection managing to turn the sound into a question. Nathan leaned off of you, resting against the thickly padded back of the couch instead. He repeated his question more distinctly this time: “Did you really never feel anything between us?”

You frowned, pointedly not looking at him. The section where you sat was mostly empty. Hell, the Estuary itself was mostly empty. It was near closing by then, and whatever crowd had existed on the weeknight had long since dissipated.

You probably would have gone on ignoring your companion, but he planted his elbow in your side and nudged you gently over and over until you finally gave in. “Well, I don’t think you’re irritating anymore.”

“That’s it?” Nathan asked with a disbelieving laugh. “Can I get a little more than that?”

With a sigh, you said, “I don’t know what it means - or if it means anything at all - but I have more fun arguing with you than spending time with anyone I actually get along with.”

“Well, if you want to know what I think-”

If you never had to hear another thing that Nathan thought, it would be great. So, to avoid hearing this particular thought, you grabbed his chin and angled his face so that you could deposit a kiss on his lips.

It was supposed to be a light kiss, just a brush of your lips across his. Enough to distract him without crossing any lines. Unfortunately, your body didn’t seem inclined to listen to you. After that first light kiss, you returned for a second, then a third - each touch of your lips on his deeper than the one before.

Part of you wished you could blame your actions on the alcohol you had drank that evening, but it wouldn’t make sense. The beer pitcher had been empty for an hour and Nathan had drank the last glass… and subsequently refused to buy another, but that was only him being his typical asshole self. The point was, you were in full control of your senses. The only thing driving you to act as you had was desire, pure and simple.

When you pulled away, the motion was reluctant. You didn’t want to break that contact, but you also knew you had crossed a line… even if Nathan had been kissing you back. You opened your eyes as you sat back, trying to adjust your vision as quickly as possible so you could see Nathan’s immediate reaction.

He was pouting.

Nathan Bateman, head of the biggest tech company in the world and high-ranking member of the Forbes Billionaires List for the past six years, pouted when you stopped kissing him.

“C’mon,” he complained, though his voice was quiet enough to lack the grating tone normally present in his whining. “Been waiting ten fuckin’ years for that. You can’t stop now.”

Well, that answered that question.

You smiled despite yourself, and watched with amusement as Nathan’s lips quirked into a smile as well. “I guess that was a better answer, then?”

“I’ve always been a slow study,” he told you, trying to kiss you again. When you turned your face to keep your lips out of reach, he contented himself with kissing and nibbling at your jaw. “You might have to expand on it for me.”

“What would your shareholders think?” you asked. Nathan was an incredibly public figure and, while you weren’t a direct competitor, there could be questions about what he was doing with someone like you. There would be accusations that you were trying to scam some funds from him, at the very least.

With dark eyes and a rough tone, Nathan insisted, “I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. Never have, except this one super nerd with a weakness for biotech.”

“Yeah, you’ve really had a weakness for me,” you scoffed.

“Wait, are you serious?” he asked, sounding almost offended. “I wasn’t exactly subtle when we were in college.”

“First, remember that I was pretty sure we hated each other,” you reminded him. “Second, I thought all of the flirty shit was you messing with me.”

“Why did you think I always sat somewhere else until the game was over?” he pressed, exasperated. “I kept getting hard every time you’d beat me.”

“I didn’t beat you that often,” you said inanely. To be fair, you were still trying to process everything he had said up to that point.

“Every question you beat me on, sweetheart,” Nathan amended. “Fuck, nothin’ hotter than someone who’s smart and isn’t afraid to prove it. And then the first game you won, you didn’t even brag about it or rub it in my face. Hot and classy. I barely got back to my dorm.”

You laughed disbelievingly and Nathan held his hands up. “Listen, I’m not trying to talk you into anything you’re not interested in… but if you are interested, I’ve been down for ten years. Just say the fuckin’ word.”

A precious handful of moments were wasted between you as you struggled to come up with a clever word to say, but you tossed it out the window and pressed another kiss to his lips. He responded eagerly, instantly trying to deepen the kiss into something that wouldn’t have been appropriate in public, but you pulled back.

“Was that enough of a confirmation, or do I need to actually say it?” you asked, feeling playful at the heat and eagerness in his eyes.

“Babe, the only thing I want you to say is my name.” His dark brows waggled at you and a smirk gave his full lips an asymmetrical tilt. His hand in yours pulled you steadily toward the door of the Estuary.

When you reached the street, you paused, a thought occurring to you. “Nathan-”

He interrupted before you could finish what you were saying. “Yeah, kinda like that, but sexy.”

“How’s this for sexy?” you challenged, “My apartment is closer.”

He paused, looking torn. “I wanna argue that, but my place is a while away. I also don’t have neighbors, but after we’re done pissing yours off, we can relocate.”

The thought that he was planning some kind of future with you - even just the kind of future that was a handful of hours away - warmed you and you opted to walk to your apartment instead of trying to hail a ride.

When you reached your building, Nathan started to laugh. “You seriously moved a few blocks down from the Estuary? Be honest, you chose this place because it’s close to your trivia hookup.”

You tried to bristle at his theory, but he wasn’t wrong. So you kissed him instead.

As far as you knew, the elevator had been updated to teleport you to your floor, because the trip seemed to take no time at all. You fumbled with your keys while Nathan counted how many times he could make you shiver as he trailed fingertips up and down your back. You pulled him inside, already kissing him again even as you locked your door.

“I would offer you a tour,” you explained between kisses, “but I know you don’t care.”

“I care,” Nathan replied, his words interrupted just as often as yours had been, “just not right now. Wanna get you-”

He broke off with a groan as you grabbed his ass and gave it a healthy squeeze. “Where’s the bedroom?”

You laughed, hardly recognizing the throatiness of it. “Now you care?”

Nathan’s eyes were starting to look a little unhinged. “I’ll fuck you here, but we’d both be more comfortable in a bed. You have ten seconds to decide.”

In a few steps - and exactly eight seconds - you were in your bedroom. Nathan was already peeling away the material of your shirt while you worked at his pants. Fortunately, neither of you had dressed up for a trivia night at the bar, and stripping took very little time… though you would treasure the way Nathan’s face froze when he saw you in nothing but a bra and underwear.

Before long, he was pressing you back into the mattress, kissing you all the while. His body settled between your legs and you gave a subtle wiggle, trying to gauge whether you were wet enough to accommodate him just then. It was close, but you were ready enough to risk it.

It didn’t matter.

Nathan broke away from your lips, planting his hand on your chest when you tried to follow him. “No, no. You just lay there and keep making those pretty fuckin’ sounds for me.”

You shook your head, smiling ruefully. You should have known Nathan would never get straight to things. He liked to take his time, experiment, and - more than anyone knew - torment. Ah, well. At least you would finally get to see if his mouth was good for anything other than pissing you off.

True to form, Nathan started off with a tickling exploration of you, observing every way you reacted to his touches on your outer lips. Then he moved his attention to studying how you moved when he traced your inner folds. Teasing fingertips parted you, tracing every bit of delicate flesh until he ended with a soft brush against your clit.

You tilted your head up, ready to complain about his slow pace. As you parted your lips, he sealed his mouth over you, brushing your clit with his nose even as he thrust his tongue as far inside your core as he could reach. You choked on the breath you had taken, collapsing back onto the mattress even as the muscles of your stomach contracted with pleasure.

Nathan was good at this. Surprisingly good, you admitted to yourself. His mouth was plundering you, but never in a way that felt overwhelming. Not that you were in control of your senses - in fact, the opposite was true - but the pleasure never seemed to melt into an amorphous shape. You could feel every little thing that he was doing to you, and it was always just spaced out enough so that you approached the edge of orgasm, but couldn’t manage to hurl yourself over it. Even the odd scratch of his beard against your sensitive folds had you ready to beg for something a little more.

“Nathan,” you barked. Or, at least, you tried to bite out his name, voice harsh to show your irritation. Instead, it came out in a whine, a plea so desperate that it rose almost out of hearing at the end.

He grinned against your folds. “There it is.”

You grimaced at him, but Nathan thrust two fingers deep inside of you and lavished attention on your clit, pulling your legs up and over his shoulders to circumvent any attempt of squirming away from him… Not that you could even consider it. No, you were too busy imploding around his fingers and trying not to scream.

Instead, you writhed across your mattress, gasping his name as he kept the waves of pleasure crashing over you until you were worried you would drown with it. Eventually, he let you press his head away. Before you could fully recover, you heard something strange. You looked down to find Nathan cleaning the shining remnants of your orgasm from his mouth. His beard was damp with what his tongue couldn’t reach and that distracted you so thoroughly that you almost didn’t notice the way the muscles of his arm were flexing.

And then you did notice and it was all you could concentrate on.

“Bateman,” you said, quickly amending that to, “Nathan.”

He glanced up, face quizzical like he wasn’t jerking off at the foot of your bed. You bit back a growl, turning it into, “Get up here and fuck me.”

The grin that spread over his face seemed even wider with the darkness of his beard and it made you smile back. His kiss pressed you back against the mattress again, but he cut it off to ask, “You wanna be on top or bottom?”

You considered it for a moment. “I don’t think either of us want to wait for me to get my leg strength back. You can be on top.”

He nodded, shifting with pent-up energy. You glanced down between you, catching a glimpse of his cock straining to reach you. He was visibly leaking and so hard that he had to be in pain. Even those mindless movements had turned to helpless little thrusts against the bed.

When you leaned back, spreading your legs for him, the awestruck look on his face erased any shyness you may have felt. (Though there was a limit to how shy you could really be since his face had been buried in your pussy only a few minutes before.) You could feel the wetness of your core, dripping with Nathan’s spit and your own slick.

“Are you-? Shit, I need a condom…” Nathan moved to stand, but you caught at him. He had bragged about his clean bill of health a week before - though you hadn’t thought to tie that to anything more serious than idle conversation at the time - and you were feeling adventurous.

“If you want,” you told him. “But I’m clean and I know you are, too. I’m on the pill. We can-”

You never got the chance to finish your offer. By that point, Nathan was on top of you fully, his cock falling heavily against your folds. He gave a short groan. In half a moment, he was inside you, having thrust inside in a single ill-paced move.

You gasped sharply, your nails digging into his back as you struggled to adjust around him. Nathan wasn’t a small man, and even your well-prepared body could have used a slower entrance.

“Fuck,” he growled. “You good?”

“Yeah, just… just need a minute,” you panted, feeling the way your inner muscles were dancing over his length as you stretched to fit him.

“Sure, sure,” Nathan agreed, eyes half-closing as his jaw flexed. “Feel so good. So good. If I had known… I would never have left you alone. Would have begged you for this.”

“You never left me alone anyway,” you pointed out, a slight tightness in your voice the only thing that betrayed you.

He chuckled, and the low rumble of it ran through you like a pleasant shiver. Your breath caught as your body switched from ‘don’t move’ to ‘please move please-please-please’.

You rolled your hips, working him a fraction of an inch deeper. Nathan’s shoulders flexed with effort as he shook his head. “Don’t do that, sweetheart. Not unless you want me to lose control.”

You did it again, fighting back a grin when he looked down at you with wild eyes. He must have caught whatever mischief was in your face, though, because he nodded intently. “If that’s how you feel…”

His first full thrust drove the breath from your lungs and you never did feel like you got it back. Part of that was from the incredible thickness of him working in and out of you, the way he felt sliding from you and pushing his way back in. It was a gorgeous sensation, and your toes were curling with the pleasure of it even as your brow crinkled.

But the feeling of him inside of you wasn’t the only thing that kept you off-balance. No, the intensity on Nathan’s face had you stumbling. Those dark eyes were burrowing into yours, and you felt like he was studying your very soul even behind the lenses of his glasses.

You closed your eyes as he hit your g-spot, sending shivers running through you.

“Don’t do that, sweetheart,” he pleaded. “Keep those eyes open, okay? Need to- fuck… Need to see you. Want you to see me…”

That command - along with the searching kiss he planted on your lips - left you too close to come back. “Nathan, I- I’m…”

He nodded easily, like he was coolly unaffected by the news of your impending pleasure, but his hips thrusted so sharply that you let out a little cry. “Go ahead, come for me. Shit, come on me. I’m gonna- Won’t last much longer, either.”

You rolled your hips just a little harder, purposefully clamping down around him. Nathan hissed out a breath, his head tilting back with it before he fixed his eyes on you once more. There was a groove between his thick brows, like he was fixing all of his concentration on you alone.

It was the sexiest thing you’d ever seen.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he urged, fingers tightening on your hips as he managed to spear a tiny bit deeper into you. “Come on, let me feel you…”

You felt your core tighten around him - tighter than you could ever dream of doing normally - and then release, milking him for cum he wasn’t giving up yet. He gritted his teeth and fought to keep going, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

At the peak of your orgasm, your mouth fell open and you could feel that sound was coming out. What that sound was, you didn’t know; there was a roaring in your ears too loud to hear past. But, from the smugness on Nathan’s face, it was safe to assume that it was his name.

Just as you were coming down from your peak, Nathan reached his. Those dark eyes were still locked on yours, but you could see the way they tightened around the corners as he speared himself as deep into you as he could go. Through your own aftershocks, you could feel the way he was pulsing inside of you, painting you with hot streams of cum. When Nathan finally relaxed, he was resting almost his full weight on you.

It should have been unpleasant, you reflected. You were both sticky with cooling sweat, and you could feel cum beginning to gush from around Nathan’s softening cock. Your thighs ached at being forced apart for so long and you could feel the beginnings of beard burn forming in several fascinating places.

Yes, it should have been unpleasant, catching your breath with Nathan Bateman. But even as you struggled to catch your breath, you both found enough air to share a chuckle.

“Guess I should stop crushing you now,” Nathan murmured, pulling out before rolling off you.

You grimaced and squeezed your thighs together in an attempt to fight the flow of cum steadily leaking out of you. Nathan saw the motion and grabbed something off the side of the bed, handing you a piece of fabric in the next moment. You snorted when you realized it was a sock.

“I’d offer to get you a washcloth, but my knees aren’t working yet,” Nathan told you. He squinted around the room. “And I have no idea where your bathroom is.”

You snorted. “Well, there are three doors in this room and we came in through one of them. I like those odds.”

“You think 50/50 is good odds?” Nathan asked, sounding scandalized. “Remind me never to go gambling with you.”

“50/50 would be incredible odds in gambling,” you argued, feeling faintly ridiculous bickering about it with a sock pressed between your legs. “Just admit you’re not a gambler, Bateman.”

Nathan rolled onto his side to face you and your eyes were drawn down to the scars on his chest and stomach. You pulled your gaze away quickly, but the wariness on his face told you that he had seen you. Quietly, he said, “I only gamble when it matters.”

To break the mood, you scoffed. “I’ve seen you bet whether a bird would eat some roadkill.”

“It was a hawk and it was trying to fly away with an entire racoon!” He sounded outraged, but there was a glimmer of good humor growing in his eyes once more. “I made fifty bucks on that bet, too.”

“The true foundation of your fortune,” you replied.

He rolled away and stood up, pausing a moment as if to check whether his knees would hold up. “I’m going on a brave, daring quest to your kitchen. Assuming I make it alive, do you want anything?”

“I’d love a glass of water,” you requested. As he reached the door, you said, “If you reach the piranha moat, you’ve gone too far. And if you run into the dragon, the password is ‘butterscotch’.”

“Ha, ha,” Nathan fake-laughed over his shoulder as he disappeared into the darkened hallway.

You sat smiling like an idiot for longer than you would care to admit.

---

Author's Note - And that's it! Thanks for reading - I would love to know what you thought!

I don't offer a taglist for explicit works, but you can find other works on my masterlist!

#fanfic february #fanfic february 2023 #fanficfebruary #ex machina #ex machina (2015)#nathan bateman #nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x you #reader insert #reader insert fic #reader insert smut #lemon #not suitable for minors #minors dni

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