Nathan walked into the coffee shop, tossing his bucket onto the table that had donations and then paused. It was fucking quiet in here, no music and people weren't talking much. Just typing on laptops or sitting silently. Was this a library pretending to be a coffee shop or were coffee shops just as boring as he had always assumed they would be. Honestly, why didn't these twats just go to greggs?
"Hi!" Nathan declared, shattering the silence with little shame.
He was dressed as a very low-rent Santa right now, sans the comical stomach because he forgot it today. He was currently using it as his main pillow and he was a little absent minded this morning so there he was - skinny twig Santa. He liked to think of himself as Santa's sexy younger brother.
His shoes squeaked loudly as he walked up to the drinks fridge, wondering if he had the cash for any of these but it was Christmas, so he was hoping he could get it for cheaper. He looked around and the barista wasn't watching, she was just staring off into the middle distance. Well. Sure.
Nathan took one of the posh lemonades from the fridge, opened it and sniffed it, took a mouthful and then cringed. Posh drinks were so bitter. "Ugh!" Then spat it back into the bottle with disgust. That was not worth his 2 quid budget.
And, of course, he set it right back into the fridge and walked over to the counter, drink still half down his chin. "Afternoon, love. Any chance the Christmas spirit would move you to give me a drink cup of tea or mince pie? I would nick some from the donation tub but they get dead arsy over it."
So not what he wanted to deal with. Barty already hadn't been in a good mood and the decent coffee at this place was not worth putting up with all the noise that accompanied it. He had finally gotten it to an acceptable level of noise and then that kid walked in.
Santa twink. His brows furrowed, then he focused on his book harder, wondering whether he could just ignore him and he'd go away. Evidently not.
"Just serve him!" He was close enough to the counter that he didn't have to raise his voice, it still led to the barista pouring a cup of tea for the noisy intrusion and then, yes, giving him a mince pie. Maybe that would shut him up.
"Oooh, nice. Thanks, mate." Nathan snorted an amused little laugh as he took his drink and mince pie over to the table with his bucket, loudly pulling out his chair so it scrapped on the floor. He sat down and nosily, and messily, started to eat his snack. Once he was done, he licked his fingers and made eyes at the girl sitting one table across from him. "It's not just fingers I lick."
He winked at her and she promptly turned away, sneering at him. "What?! I wasn't saying I was going to lick your cunt. Get your head out of the gutter."
No one was really talking still. Not even the pissed off girl. Nathan frowned and then looked around. "Are we doing one of those minute silences cause I think we've blown passed a minute."
It wasn't just that he was talking and being noisy, it was also that everything he said and every sound he made was deeply unpleasant. Barty felt it like something crawling up his spine. There was really no reason to hesitate, so he simply reiterated his earlier order. This time he only meant it for the newcomer, but he still put a lot of emphasis on it. This one seemed as if he'd need the encouragement. "Be quiet."
Better. He turned the page of his book and sighed, hoping that he could finally get some peace around here.
Oh. He couldn't talk. Oooh. That wanker had a power? Nathan pouted and turned his head, not super happy about that. Well, he didn't need sound to annoy this tosser. He got to his feet with a dramatical roll back of his head, sighing quietly because he could only do it quietly. Then he stood in front of the man and started to pretend to jack off.
And yes, he aimed his imaginary jizz at him. Then he stuck up his fingers.
Barty lowered his book and then raised his eyebrow at him. How old was he? Looked young. Had to be old enough to hold down a job, he supposed, but given the job in question that was not saying much. Teens, they were the worst.
"Punch yourself in the face." He said it calmly, but he did watch with interest. It was fun, could not deny that. "Do it again."
There was a bit of satisfaction there. Maturity was overrated. Barty snorted and then got up, as this place had lost its charm. He closed his book and left it on the table, then headed for the exit.
Well, that hurt. He yelped, high and panicked. Not the first time he'd punched himself in the face but last time had been an accident. His lip was bleeding and he watched the man leave, unsure what he was supposed to do about him but he knew for sure he had to tell the others that there was some cunt out there who could make people do things. "Wanker!"
Oh, he didn't have to be quiet any more. Fantastic.
Barty had only just left the door as he rushed out behind him. "Oi! Knob-jockey! I get it, you got a little fancy power. Oooh, very slick but you don't scare me. I can take a punch to the face." He could but he didn't want to. "You shouldn't be using and abusing that sort of thing, you know? It's Christmas."
There was a bit that intrigued him here. The way he keyed in on him having a power, it sparked some interest. He glanced over his shoulder back at him in his stupid Santa costume. Someone who knew about powers then. That was something. "Tell me how you know about powers."
It was a simple request and he waited for what he had to say, while considering why he cared. Maybe because he wondered whether they were active somewhere. People in labs experimenting. Looking for him. There was an element of fear at the bottom of all this and he hated that.
"Cause I have one. And it's dead sexy, I'll have you know." The powers didn't even need to work on him, he would have said it anyway. Nathan didn't need to be forced to expose himself, he did it all the time. Happily. "I'm a real A-Lister when it comes to powers, you know? I'm immortal, big boy. So why don't you just get off your little high horse, stop riding your own dick."
Nathan rolled his eyes and then shook his head, realising he forgot his bucket. "Shit. Christmas is ruined!" He had to go back to the money, ASAP. And, as always, his interest was fleeting. "Look, this was fun but later, cunty."
Interesting. "Step out on the road," Barty told him. Then he watched, mildly entertained, as the order was followed and, yes, a truck ran him over.
Didn't even seem as if the driver noticed. This really was a shit area of town, wasn't it?
He moved onto the road to grab the body by one arm and drag him onto the pavement, instructing any onlookers to forget, ignore and keep walking. Looking down at the body, he checked his watch. He wondered how long it would take him to come back to life. He hoped for his sake that he hadn't been lying about his power.
Nathan shot up, back to life, gasping and whining in the back of his throat. All he remembered was a massive fuck off truck rolling over him. It hurt too! He was all sore now. He slowly pulled himself upright and raised his hand to touch the back of his head. There was blood there, of course, fresh and wet but no life threatening wounds.
For the most part, he was perfectly fine and staring up at a smiling Barty. "What did you do that for?! Prick!"
"That is a sexy power." Barty said it drily, because the sexiness was debatable. There were tire tracks on those ill-fitting Santa clothes and the blood and bile wasn't a nice look either. Still, while he had been dead, he had taken the time to look at his face and decided that he was certainly a pretty boy. He'd always had a bit of a weakness for pretty boys, even the annoying ones. "You're coming with me."
He started walking, knowing that he would not have a choice. "Tell me your name."
"I'm bloody not." Nathan dismissed as he got up and started... started walking with him. Okay. Well. Fuck. "Nathan." Fuck. Nathan walked slow, as slow as he could with the order, trying to hang back so he could get out his phone. Barty didn't say no phones. He fumbled it out and held it behind his back, using his shortcut buttons to try and get Simon. Of course, the text he ended up sending was just a keysmash so it probably wasn't helpful.
He moved his thumb, attempting to try and hit the call button. "No offence, mate, but you're really not my type."
"You can stop now," Barty graciously told Nathan a good three hours later. He sat in the living room, eating the take out he had ordered right from the cartons. He wasn't sure how long he'd stay here and it wasn't as if he wanted to do dishes. He'd never done that before, he wasn't about to start now.
"Have some food. I ordered Chinese." It was the only decent place he knew that delivered here. Perhaps he'd have to relocate sooner rather than later. "You can sit on the sofa."
There, he was being quite gracious. The sobbing was getting annoying. "Relax. Be happy."
Emotions were weird. He hadn't cried like that since he was a boy, he didn't really cry much. Not for real, anyway. He didn't see the point of crying, only pussies and gays cried. He sniffed and raised his hand, wiping the tears out of his eyes and off his face. He felt the happy vibes go over him but it just felt off. Artificial.
There was something weird about how sick he still felt. His head hurt and honestly, he was a bit sick of this. "My head hurts like a night out only without the fun sort of regret and shame."
With a huff, he dropped onto the couch and took a carton off the coffee table, eating the noodles with his hand. He was starving, after all. "We gonna do this all night?"
"It happens when I tell someone to do things that goes against their base instincts. Every being wants to fight to be alive." Obviously it didn't make Nathan any more resistent, but he supposed it made sense that there would be after-effects. "Usually not a problem with anyone I tell to kill themselves."
He didn't consider it much of a problem right now either. "Have a beer." He handed Nathan the beer he had gotten out of the fridge for him. There, that was nice.
"Anyway, I'm winging this. Just doing what's fun."
"I think the crying doesn't help. That's why I hate crying, it's so stupid. You cry and then you get a headache and you can't be arsed to do anything, your eyes hurt too. Sadness is better handled with booze and pills. And some clunge, if there's any good looking ones around." Nathan informed him crudely as he took the beer and drank down at least half of it just in case Barty tried to take it back.
"I'm going to be honest with you, so hold onto your balls here. It's just not very fun. It's not doing it for me. Are you feeling anything because I'm not feeling anything good. We're not clicking." He gestured between them, hoping he could just try and chat his way out of this. Somehow.
"I think we've pushed the limits of our friendship. Time to move on."
Barty raised his eyebrows and considered that, reaching out to pick up the glass of whiskey he had set down on the table. He took a sip and thought back to some of the messages, videos and pictures in Nathan's phone. "Don't talk while you're eating. Chew properly and finish quickly. I have plans."
He took another sip and then just swirled the liquid in the glass, considering Nathan with dark eyes full of darker ideas.
Nathan ate some more noodles and then wiped his hand on his chest. He wasn't overly hungry, he felt sick if he was honest. Not that he would be. He downed his beer and finished it off, holding it in his hands and wondering if he could use it as a weapon. He had to have the chance and time to do it. He had to be subtle. The guy had plans and he wasn't going to let him.
"Holy shit, that's that?!" Nathan fake pointed and then Barty turned, he flew at him with the bottle, hoping he could knock him out or something. Of course, he hit the coffee table and the bottle flew from his hand, hitting the wall and breaking. Fuck. Nathan panicked and went to hit Barty inside. Good enough.
"Stop moving." Barty was not surprised, having simply stayed still and let that play out. He considered his options for a few, then gave his next set of instructions. "Clear off the table, put the leftovers properly in the fridge. Then come back here and take off your clothes."
They were bloody and in a bad state by now anyway. "After that, I want you to lie down on the coffee table and stay perfectly still."
Damn it, he was so fucking close. Stupid coffee table. He wanted to not do it, he wanted to just do the opposite - just throw food at him and walk out. But he couldn't. And Nathan had never been in a situation where he had no control before. He never listened to what people told him, that was part of his charm!
He put the food in the fridge, closed the door and walked back into the living room. He shed his clothes into an ungraceful heap as he did so. He looked at Barty, his eyes full of doubt and uncertainty. And yeah, a little fear too.
Once his clothes were off, he lay down on the coffee table, staying still as ordered. "... What are you doing now?"
"We will test you." Barty set the glass he had been drinking from down on Nathan's bare chest. Then he filled it with whiskey almost to the brim. "We'll see what makes you spill more. Pain or pleasure."
He ran his hand through Nathan's hair for a moment, then he walked over to where the beer bottle had broken and he picked up one of the dark green shards. He gently touched his finger to it, smiling down at Nathan. "Sharp enough."
"You sick, perverted bastard. You know you can pay a prozzie for this sort of service. I don't see why I have to do it!" Nathan whined in annoyance, trying not to sound scared but he was. He didn't like pain, he really didn't. He got hit a lot, had done since he was a boy and learned how to provoke, and he never really liked it. Though he'd take it over indifference any day. He'd take any form of attention, touch or praise.
He closed his eyes and sucked in a nervous breath. "I know a girl on the estate, she's past her best but she's cheap and if you give her some cigarettes, she'll even do the dark shit, yeah? The sort of stuff where you piss on each other and fuck horses." Or whatever the dark stuff was. "She'd be into it!"
"I'd rather... Nathan, talk about what you are into. What are your fantasies? Talk truthfully." That should slow him down a little, he honestly felt as if it would take Nathan a while to even parse what was honest within his own brain.
For now, Barty wrapped a hand around Nathan's dick, feeling that it was time to make him aware of how hard he already was. He had a feeling, a hard, growing feeling, that Nathan was enjoying being under someone's control a lot more than he actually realised himself.
"You are special, Nathan. I'd not do this with just anyone."
"I'm into anything. I'll do anything. Doggy, missionary, anal, I don't care. I'd do it all. Even the stuff I don't want to do, I'd do it, I'm into the fact that I'm not into it. I'm into the fact that I could make someone be proud of me. Pay attention to me. Love me. I want to be loved." Nathan cried out but the pressure of his resistance to saying it made every work sound pained and tense. His body trembled and the whiskey shook with it.
The touch to his cock ripped right through him and he closed his eyes, embarrassed. Well, it was embarrassing! All this emotional bollocks. He didn't want to say any of it.
"I want someone who likes me to touch me like you are." His dick was hard and leaking. "And to hurt me like you are too. Cause I know, I know I deserve it!"
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"Hi!" Nathan declared, shattering the silence with little shame.
He was dressed as a very low-rent Santa right now, sans the comical stomach because he forgot it today. He was currently using it as his main pillow and he was a little absent minded this morning so there he was - skinny twig Santa. He liked to think of himself as Santa's sexy younger brother.
His shoes squeaked loudly as he walked up to the drinks fridge, wondering if he had the cash for any of these but it was Christmas, so he was hoping he could get it for cheaper. He looked around and the barista wasn't watching, she was just staring off into the middle distance. Well. Sure.
Nathan took one of the posh lemonades from the fridge, opened it and sniffed it, took a mouthful and then cringed. Posh drinks were so bitter. "Ugh!" Then spat it back into the bottle with disgust. That was not worth his 2 quid budget.
And, of course, he set it right back into the fridge and walked over to the counter, drink still half down his chin. "Afternoon, love. Any chance the Christmas spirit would move you to give me a drink cup of tea or mince pie? I would nick some from the donation tub but they get dead arsy over it."
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Santa twink. His brows furrowed, then he focused on his book harder, wondering whether he could just ignore him and he'd go away. Evidently not.
"Just serve him!" He was close enough to the counter that he didn't have to raise his voice, it still led to the barista pouring a cup of tea for the noisy intrusion and then, yes, giving him a mince pie. Maybe that would shut him up.
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He winked at her and she promptly turned away, sneering at him. "What?! I wasn't saying I was going to lick your cunt. Get your head out of the gutter."
No one was really talking still. Not even the pissed off girl. Nathan frowned and then looked around. "Are we doing one of those minute silences cause I think we've blown passed a minute."
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Better. He turned the page of his book and sighed, hoping that he could finally get some peace around here.
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And yes, he aimed his imaginary jizz at him. Then he stuck up his fingers.
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"Punch yourself in the face." He said it calmly, but he did watch with interest. It was fun, could not deny that. "Do it again."
There was a bit of satisfaction there. Maturity was overrated. Barty snorted and then got up, as this place had lost its charm. He closed his book and left it on the table, then headed for the exit.
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Oh, he didn't have to be quiet any more. Fantastic.
Barty had only just left the door as he rushed out behind him. "Oi! Knob-jockey! I get it, you got a little fancy power. Oooh, very slick but you don't scare me. I can take a punch to the face." He could but he didn't want to. "You shouldn't be using and abusing that sort of thing, you know? It's Christmas."
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It was a simple request and he waited for what he had to say, while considering why he cared. Maybe because he wondered whether they were active somewhere. People in labs experimenting. Looking for him. There was an element of fear at the bottom of all this and he hated that.
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Nathan rolled his eyes and then shook his head, realising he forgot his bucket. "Shit. Christmas is ruined!" He had to go back to the money, ASAP. And, as always, his interest was fleeting. "Look, this was fun but later, cunty."
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Interesting. "Step out on the road," Barty told him. Then he watched, mildly entertained, as the order was followed and, yes, a truck ran him over.
Didn't even seem as if the driver noticed. This really was a shit area of town, wasn't it?
He moved onto the road to grab the body by one arm and drag him onto the pavement, instructing any onlookers to forget, ignore and keep walking. Looking down at the body, he checked his watch. He wondered how long it would take him to come back to life. He hoped for his sake that he hadn't been lying about his power.
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For the most part, he was perfectly fine and staring up at a smiling Barty. "What did you do that for?! Prick!"
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He started walking, knowing that he would not have a choice. "Tell me your name."
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He moved his thumb, attempting to try and hit the call button. "No offence, mate, but you're really not my type."
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"Have some food. I ordered Chinese." It was the only decent place he knew that delivered here. Perhaps he'd have to relocate sooner rather than later. "You can sit on the sofa."
There, he was being quite gracious. The sobbing was getting annoying. "Relax. Be happy."
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There was something weird about how sick he still felt. His head hurt and honestly, he was a bit sick of this. "My head hurts like a night out only without the fun sort of regret and shame."
With a huff, he dropped onto the couch and took a carton off the coffee table, eating the noodles with his hand. He was starving, after all. "We gonna do this all night?"
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He didn't consider it much of a problem right now either. "Have a beer." He handed Nathan the beer he had gotten out of the fridge for him. There, that was nice.
"Anyway, I'm winging this. Just doing what's fun."
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"I'm going to be honest with you, so hold onto your balls here. It's just not very fun. It's not doing it for me. Are you feeling anything because I'm not feeling anything good. We're not clicking." He gestured between them, hoping he could just try and chat his way out of this. Somehow.
"I think we've pushed the limits of our friendship. Time to move on."
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He took another sip and then just swirled the liquid in the glass, considering Nathan with dark eyes full of darker ideas.
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"Holy shit, that's that?!" Nathan fake pointed and then Barty turned, he flew at him with the bottle, hoping he could knock him out or something. Of course, he hit the coffee table and the bottle flew from his hand, hitting the wall and breaking. Fuck. Nathan panicked and went to hit Barty inside. Good enough.
"I'm not doing it again, you fucked up cunt!"
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They were bloody and in a bad state by now anyway. "After that, I want you to lie down on the coffee table and stay perfectly still."
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He put the food in the fridge, closed the door and walked back into the living room. He shed his clothes into an ungraceful heap as he did so. He looked at Barty, his eyes full of doubt and uncertainty. And yeah, a little fear too.
Once his clothes were off, he lay down on the coffee table, staying still as ordered. "... What are you doing now?"
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He ran his hand through Nathan's hair for a moment, then he walked over to where the beer bottle had broken and he picked up one of the dark green shards. He gently touched his finger to it, smiling down at Nathan. "Sharp enough."
Sharp enough for this purpose, anyway.
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He closed his eyes and sucked in a nervous breath. "I know a girl on the estate, she's past her best but she's cheap and if you give her some cigarettes, she'll even do the dark shit, yeah? The sort of stuff where you piss on each other and fuck horses." Or whatever the dark stuff was. "She'd be into it!"
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For now, Barty wrapped a hand around Nathan's dick, feeling that it was time to make him aware of how hard he already was. He had a feeling, a hard, growing feeling, that Nathan was enjoying being under someone's control a lot more than he actually realised himself.
"You are special, Nathan. I'd not do this with just anyone."
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The touch to his cock ripped right through him and he closed his eyes, embarrassed. Well, it was embarrassing! All this emotional bollocks. He didn't want to say any of it.
"I want someone who likes me to touch me like you are." His dick was hard and leaking. "And to hurt me like you are too. Cause I know, I know I deserve it!"
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