Chapter Text
The day has been hell.
Notim managed to piss off some random guy on the walk to his dealer, prompting a would-be mugging. He shot him through the head, but that didn’t stop the growth of a few nasty bruises from where the man had slammed him against the wall.
The cops were quick to follow, and Notim barely managed to escape without getting spotted, scrambling out with nothing but a few scrapes.
Thank god.
When he gets home and settles onto his stained, moth-eaten couch, the only thing he can think of doing is jerking off. So he boots up his old laptop, watching as it splutters to life with a whirr. He’s cutting the wifi for the month, ‘cause his unemployment check can’t cover that and his other activities. His files will have to do.
He clicks on one of his saved videos, this time something new that Nathan, that cunt, jokingly sent him. It’s named “cute_girl,” and it won’t stop fucking buffering. Goddamn it. If he judges by the title alone, he’s vaguely sure that it’ll give him a virus.
He settles back on the couch as it finally loads, pulling his cock out of his pants. It’s flaccid, soft at roughly two inches, and he gives it a long stroke, trying to get it over with already.
Notim hisses as he digs his finger into the slit almost painfully, the pressure uncomfortable and overstimulating. It’s messy, rough, and probably not sanitary, but he’s never cared. It takes a few seconds before he manages to coax his dick to half mast, then full, a bead of precum welling at the tip.
The noise pouring from his shitty computer really isn’t helping. The girl’s moans are fake and pitchy, and the guy clearly isn’t into it either. But he fucks her, and that’s that. Unfortunately, it’s not enough for Notim.
Admittedly, not much is.
He scowls, frustration creeping into his motions as he fists his cock harder. The typical types of porn didn’t get him off. Vanilla? Boring. All girls? Not his style. Gay porn, guy on guy, that was alright. His grip tightens, dick twitching, and he has to shuffle through a few awkward moments in his head to calm him down a little.
The slik slik sound of his hand sliding along his cock is louder now, helped by the precum, and he lets his head loll against the top of the couch. It’s good, the dopamine settling his nerves and rumbling through him in a pleasant ache.
His muscles ease slightly, hair slipping to cup the side of his face as he turns to get a better look at the sight of his dick in his hand. The skin of his tip is flushed and swollen around the glinting metal of his Prince Albert, and his eyes widen as his dick visibly twitches. He’s so close, but he can’t cum, he can’t, and he squirms and pulls back just long enough to spit onto his hand, then his dick.
After about a minute of furious jerking, he groans and stands, glancing around at the various guns strewn across the kitchen table. He’s jerked off with a gun before, sure, but today he wants something specific, the Nighthawk Custom Agent that Nathan gave him for his birthday. His fingers curl around the grip, and he brings it back with him as he sinks onto the couch again.
It’s not a bad gun, all things considered. The grip is rugged, good for handling, and it has a nice front sight with good accuracy. Plus, it’s pricey, which is really the only thing Nathan looked at. Doesn’t matter, he’s got much more pressing things to worry about, and he flips the gun to press firmly against his dick, absently thumbing the hammer.
Notim hisses as he rubs the muzzle against himself, the dip of his slit catching on the bore. He sucks in a quiet breath, and he’s suddenly very aware that the gun is loaded. That just eggs him on, and he can’t help but imagine the blood that’d come from a wound so brutal.
Fuck.
Dick throbbing at the thought, he presses harder. The imaginary bang echoes in his ears, a thrill jolting through his veins. God, it’d hurt, and that doesn’t stop him from wanting it. He closes his eyes, and visions of dark, pooling black hair and raspy kisses wave through his mind with so much familiarity that it feels like he’s pictured it a thousand times. Would he do this to him? Kiss him hard and blow his dick off? Haha. Maybe both ways. The idea gets him bucking his hips gently, back arching off the cushions.
As he tilts his hips to meet the rubbing of the pistol, metal pokes him in the balls in a way that’s more pleasant than it is surprising, and he chokes out a little noise. It gets him flushed and sounds like some kind of sissy shit, so he keeps his mouth closed.
Instead he adjusts his grip, dragging the gun teasingly down to nestle against messy black curls.
The angle is a little strange, the barrel of the pistol jutting down and resting cool against Notim’s fevered skin. He shifts in an attempt to get more comfortable and happens to move perfectly onto his phone, just enough for him to butt-dial his boyfriend. Boy-friend? Boy that’s a friend? It’s complicated right now. But the ring is on silent, so he doesn’t notice as it goes to voicemail.
He lets out a slow breath, wrapping a hand around both his cock and the barrel. It mostly involves him gripping the metal with his palm, but it works, and he sets a demanding pace. Cold jolts through him as the gun presses firmly against the underside of his dick, and that gets him breathing hard. When he twists his wrist, metal scraping against his cock, he can’t help but let his mind wander.
Ideas flash again and again and again, and it’s all he can think of despite his best attempts not to. His mind drifts back to Nathan like it always does, traitorous heat pooling in his gut. They’re not even a thing, so why does he matter so damn much?
Notim picks up the pace, thumb squeezing around the width of the barrel to trace the crown of his dick again. He thinks back to when Nathan gave him the best (admittedly sloppy), head of his life. He can remember it like it was yesterday, the wet heat of the singer’s mouth and the freakishly long time he could go without pulling off for air.
It’s from all my vocal training, he’d insisted, so Notim put him right to work, fucking his face like it was nothing. Only once he felt the sizzle of bile did he slow, peering down at Nathan’s face. He had been crying, mascara running down his cheekbones in messy rivulets, drool smudged at the corners of his mouth. It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen by far.
Notim chews the inside of his cheek in thought. Now that he’s thinking about him, he can’t help but wish Nathan was there, just a little.
They’ve never gotten to fuck seriously, not yet. It’s all been rushed, frantic things that ended with ripped clothes and Notim getting his brains sucked out through his dick. As much as he enjoys that, the rabid, snarling way they grope and squeeze and tear at each other, he comes to the conclusion that he just might be okay with returning the favor. But he shivers at the thought of actual anal sex, Nathan’s dick up his ass, and jesus christ he suddenly needs to cum so badly.
Fuck, fuck fuck, he’d take Nathan’s cock any day. A strangled whimper wrenches its way from his throat, fading into an embarrassed snarl, and he tightens his grip to the point where pain spikes through him.
Notim can never get enough of him. Never enough of those green eyes, the way they stare at him with enough need to actually make him feel. Never, ever enough. He wants Nathan badly, yet he’ll never admit it. Disgust and longing curl together in his mind as he imagines them together, holding hands, making love like it meant something other than just release. They’d kiss slow and sweet, some shitty homemade mix playing in the background as Nathan fucks him with something akin to care. And when they’d finish, Nathan would clean him up and they’d fall asleep together.
The thought is so out of reach that it almost makes him sick.
Wind pushes through the cracks in the windows, and air in his lungs fogs as he pumps it in and out of his chest. The gun on his dick is almost a blur now, and his mind is wiping blank, pleasure shooting through his veins like lightning, making his eyes roll back and hips twitch.
With his finger tightening on the trigger, he finally, blissfully cums, grunting as he strokes himself through it. Cum pools on his navel, trickling down his side. Somehow, he manages to get some down the barrel of the gun, and god fucking damn it, that’s going to take forever to clean. Whatever. As he slumps, panting lightly, he hears the quiet beep of the call ending and he shuts up so fast it’s jarring.
Notim releases his dick, sets the gun down, and slowly picks up his phone like it’s going to shoot him. Fingers shaking, he jams the button that shows his call logs and stares blankly at the marked outgoing call. Three whole minutes of him jerking off and mumbling curses like a horny teenager.
Holy shit. He’s gonna have a hell of a lot of explaining to do later.