#glkjshgkshgksj

[santigarcia]

Frustration

a Nathan Bateman x f!reader fic~

word count: 1.3k

rating: m - masturbation/voyeurism  

summary: Nathan has a crush on you and he’s grumpy about it. He’s got sexual frustration pent up and he need to do something about it. 

a/n: this smug beardy asshole lives in my mind RENT FREE i had to write about him some more

Frustration 

You get under Nathan’s skin and he hates it. He can’t quite put his finger on what it is about you that makes him crazy – and that’s what makes him crazy. Ever since you moved out here to help after his ‘incident’ he prefers to have real people around, even if they are more complicated than AI. But you, fuck, you make his head spin and he wish he knew why.

Maybe it’s because you’re exactly his type. Maybe you’re the most beautiful woman ever created. He doesn’t know if he believes in God, but he knows whoever made you was an artist. Everything you do makes his chest tighten. And he doesn’t have a damn clue what to do about any of it.

He knows you deserve better than an asshole like him anyways. So, he pushes whatever the hell he’s feeling down. Down deep. He used to drink to quiet his mind, now he drinks to get the thoughts of you out of his head.

But it doesn’t fuckin’ work.

He aches, he aches for you in a way he doesn’t understand.

He tries to break it down for himself in a scientific manner.

Ok. So, you’re a beautiful woman, and it’s chemicals in his body that make him want to be with you right? Just chemicals.

But it’s so loud, it’s so loud in his head. The thing is though you simultaneously quiet his mind with your presence. Your voice, your laugh. He’d burn the whole world down if anyone hurt you. He lives for that look in your eyes when you get flustered.

He has a damn crush on you and he’s mad about it.

He wakes one morning after having a very intimate dream about you, and he must go outside to box. He’s got to get this energy out. It’s a particularly cold morning, the chill washes over his arms. He sloppily wraps his hands, ready to punch away the images of you naked from his mind.

He’s never actually seen you naked, but fuck if he doesn’t want to know. He respects you enough that he turned off the cameras in your room. He might have peeked a few times, but you were always asleep or clothed. He feels slightly guilty about looking, but not even that he doesn’t peek occasionally.

He hits the bag hard. Trying to chase the dream away. He had you groaning and crying from pleasure, and he can’t get rid of how you sounded.

The chill of the air starts to feel good when he starts to sweat. The sweat on his brow not just from his exertion, but from the need building up inside of him. Adrenaline pumps through his veins. He’s hitting the bag hard; his knuckles will be bruised and tender later.

When it starts to rain and the temperature drops, he unwillingly heads inside.

He’s greeted with the sight of you in the kitchen, making some hot tea on this cold morning. You’re wearing an oversized sweatshirt; it hits your mid-thigh. You have long warm socks that go up to your knee. There’s a precious bit of bare skin on your legs that has him swallow harshly. Your hair is adorably messy, and you’re humming. You don’t know he’s there, or maybe you do.

“Hey,” he says, letting you know he’s there. And fuck was that his voice? It sounded like he was in pain.

Maybe because he is. He’s hard in his gym shorts and there’s no way you won’t notice when you turn around.

“Good morning!” your voice is cheery and sleep still clings to it. Fuck him you’re cute. “Are you alright?” you ask when you turn, your brow is furrowed.

“Worked out a little too hard,” he laughs. Wrong choice of words Bateman. He knows you see the look on his face, but you give him a gentle smile anyways. If you saw him hard through his pants he doesn’t know.

You’re accustomed to his quirks, so it’s not unusual when he darts out of the room.

He has a problem that he needs to take care of now. He thinks about a cold shower, but no. He needs the release.

Once he’s in his room he strips himself of his sweaty clothes and flops naked on his bed. His hand grabbing himself with need, and his groan is a little too loud. He thinks about you. Your smile. Your legs. How much he wants to suck on your tits. How badly he wants to smack your ass, have you whimper for him. Fuck he wants to kiss you. To hold you.

His hand speeds up, he’s groaning loudly, and he doesn’t care if you hear. Maybe this would solve his problem. He pushes the thought from his mind that you might not want him. He’s seen the shy smiles.

Those are his favorite, the little shy glances you give him when he’s being snarky. He loves when you sass him back too but shit those little shy grins. To die for.

He’s so close, the thoughts of you have him tipping over the edge and spilling all over his hand and stomach.

His physical need is satisfied, but he still has a need. He showers now and it doesn’t help. He still wants you, but at least his aching sexual need for the moment has quieted down.

He’d been afraid he wouldn’t be able to look at you after this, but he now wants to. Wants to see you. But it’s you now that can’t look at him.

When you’d finished making your tea, you took it back to your room. Maybe it was a glitch, he’s still ironing those out after the incident, but your TV turns on and there’s a video feed of a very naked Nathan jerking himself off. You almost turn it off, but when you hear your name fall from his lips you can’t turn your eyes away.

Nathan is sharp, he knows something is up when you can barely look him for the next couple days. You’re acting shyer than normal.

“So, what’s up?” he sits down in front of you in the living room one night. You were reading, but Nathan pulls the book from your hands, making you look at him. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“I-“ your eyes are big, pupils dilated.

Suddenly it clicks.

You start to stand up. You know he won’t be satisfied until he has his answer. And he knows you know that.

He grabs your wrist. He doesn’t even look at you when he speaks.

“I know you saw.”

His finger on your pulse point tells him all he needs to know.

“You liked it. Didn’t you?”

Your heart is beating faster.

“You heard me say your name.” He let’s go of your wrist, and he stands now in front of you. He watches your face; your eyes are dark with arousal. You’re trembling.

He mentally yells at himself; he doesn’t want to scare you away. His next move is a gentler one, he lightly cups your face in his hands. And he watches you melt into his touch. That’s it. A smile grows that look of arousal still in your eyes.

He doesn’t know who closes the gap between you, but he shudders to kiss you finally. You haven’t stopped trembling in his arms, and he’s endeared by it.

When you break apart for air, he looks at you. His dark brown eyes full of a softness you don’t see much.

“I know I’m an asshole, and you deserve better than me. But would you give me a chance?”

“Yes,” you giggle and lean up to kiss his cheek. Fuck he felt that in his dick. “And next time I’m so desirable that you have to leave to go jerk off will you let me know? I can help with that.”

Fuck.

“Yeah,” he laughs, “Yeah I will kitten. You wanna, help me out now?” He pushes his hips forward into you, his arousal against your thigh is unmistakable.

When you lean into him, he sighs in relief. His dreams of you is about to become a reality.

xx

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