Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11215182.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage, Rape/Non-Con
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Life_Is_Strange_(Video_Game)
  Relationship:
      Mark_Jefferson/Nathan_Prescott
  Character:
      Mark_Jefferson, Nathan_Prescott_(Life_is_Strange)
  Additional Tags:
      Statutory_Rape, implied_past_sexual_abuse, Sean_Prescott_is_a_douchebag
      but_what_else_is_new, i_know_a_lot_of_people_tag_consent_given_under_the
      influence_as_dub-con_but_let's_be_real_people, that's_not_consent,
      especially_not_in_this_situation, Sorry_Not_Sorry, Underage_Drinking,
      Abusive_Relationships
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-06-16 Words: 5511
****** Provocative ******
by florescent_dingo
Summary
     He'd seen the same look in Jefferson's eyes directed at the work of
     legends like Robert Frank or Dorothea Lange; his heart bloomed at the
     thought that Jefferson saw something just as captivating in him, but
     his throat tightened in anticipation for the moment the man found
     some unforgivable flaw and lost interest.
Notes
     After the release of the Before the Storm preview, my hatred for Sean
     Prescott came back full force for some reason. I've always been
     pretty disturbed by the theory that he may have been sexually abusing
     Nathan, mainly because I totally believe it. So this shit show is a
     product of me being sad about that and sad that Nathan was screwed
     over by both father figures in his life. It also may or may not end
     up being part of a larger work if I ever get around to writing more.
     Nathan is 16 in this, what happens to him is definitely not healthy
     and is absolutely abuse on Jefferson's part, so please no one comment
     about it being hot or anything if this is what you're into.
This was no place for someone like Nathan to be letting his guard down so late
into the night, but it was the only bar that he knew wouldn’t card him no
matter how many drinks he ordered. He stood out like a neon billboard with his
delicate features and clothes that screamed money. The contrast between him and
the rough and down-to-earth atmosphere was almost comedic. Sleazy businessmen
and burnt out blue-collared workers alike had stared him down from the moment
he walked in; maybe they recognized him, maybe they didn’t need to know whohe
was to know that he shouldn’t be there.
 
The constant eyes on the back of his head had bothered Nathan at first, but a
handful of shots loosened him up quicker than any meds ever could; he didn’t
even flinch when the counter shook slightly as an unfamiliar man slumped
against it, almost too close for comfort, an impish smile visible underneath an
unkempt mustache. He was like a sweaty, sunburned version of David White - from
the cover of one of the vintage Playgirl magazines Nathan had stolen from his
mother.
 
It vaguely occurred to Nathan that the man probably had beef with his father
and had come over to pick a fight, but he couldn’t stop staring at that damn
mustache long enough to actually process what his lips were saying.
 
He was staring at Nathan, eyebrows raised like he expected Nathan to say
something. Apparently, the man was either overly patient or stupid, because the
seconds kept ticking by in silence and he had still made no attempt to prompt
Nathan further. Being stared down like that was getting annoying.
 
“What the fuck do you want?” Nathan asked, hoping he sounded sober enough to be
intimidating. He wasn’t in the mood to be picked on just because his dad kept
screwing people over.
 
The stranger just raised a bushy eyebrow and smoothed out his fucking mustache
with his thumb and forefinger. “Straight to the point, huh?” This time, he
didn’t waste his time waiting for Nathan to answer. “Listen, now I know you
ain’t old enough to be drinking that cocktail in front of ya. You and these
bartenders could get in some pretty serious trouble if a cop were to walk in
here.”
 
Nathan rolled his eyes, as if the pigs here would do shit if they caught him.
“Thanks for the info, you can piss off now if that’s all you came over to tell
me.”
 
“Hey, it’s not like that,” the man put a sweaty hand on Nathan’s arm, and
Nathan felt queasy, “I’m tryin’ to help you out, here. It’s dangerous for you
to be drinkin’ here, looking like that. I’ve got some whiskey and wine at my
place - why don’tcha come with me, you can drink all you want without lookin’
over your shoulder.”
 
This guy really was stupid. And he probably thought he was so fucking smooth,
too. Nathan would play along, though. At least it was something to take his
mind off of the ache in his wrists where Sean had gripped him too tightly.
“Yeah? You’re gonna let me drink all your good shit? Gonna take me home and get
me wasted, that your plan?”
 
The man seemed caught off guard, maybe surprised his charade had been so
transparent, maybe just surprised that Nathan had responded at all. His hand
was still on Nathan’s arm, and Nathan was still fighting the urge to pull away
from it.
 
Finally, the man laughed, even tightened his grip. “I think you’re already
wasted, kid. You shouldn’t be out this late. Really, come home with me, I’ll
make sure you don’t get yourself into trouble.”
 
This was pathetic, Nathan thought. The man was trying too hard, and Nathan
frankly wasn’t in the mood to follow a complete stranger home. Especially not a
stranger with such a horrible mustache. He finally swatted the man’s hand away
from him with a dismissive, “Fuck off, perv, not interested,” and attempted to
return to ignoring everyone while nursing his now-watery, room temperature
drink.
 
Instead, a sweaty hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, putting pressure on the
forming bruises and making Nathan jolt with the sudden pain.
 
The man hissed, “The fuck did you just call me, kid?” and Nathan was already
preparing for the hit that his body knew was about to come.
 
But it never did.
 
“Nathan?” Someone called out to him, somewhere nearby. Nathan knew that voice.
A new kind of fear, mixed with excitement and relief, flooded in through the
drunken haze. On one hand, Nathan hadn’t realized how much he wanted to see a
friendly face until he saw Mark Jefferson coming towards him, and he almost
couldn’t resist the magnetic draw he felt pulling him towards his mentor, the
urge to cling to him in this room full of strangers almost visceral. But
Jefferson was pissed. He was glaring at the man who had at some point let go of
Nathan’s wrist, but he kept shooting disappointed glances at Nathan, and the
palpable judgement was doing a better job at making Nathan feel guilty than any
ultimatum from his father ever could.
 
He watched in nervous silence, wondering why the hell Jefferson was even here
in the first place, as the man pushed off the bar and stood up straight to face
the intruder. His demeanor had changed with the involvement of another adult,
and when he spoke to Jefferson he sounded more annoyed than angry. “And who the
hell might you be?”
 
“That’s really none of your business,” Jefferson answered smoothly, but firm.
He ignored the stranger for the most part, and focused on Nathan. “Pay for your
drink and get up.”
 
Nathan did what he was told, following Jefferson towards the exit and out the
door on command. It was humiliating, knowing how many people were watching him;
he was a hot teenage mess, swaying and stumbling after an angry adult,
occasionally grabbing onto Jefferson’s arm to steady himself.
 
The cold night air was sobering, and he finally had the sense to ask Jefferson
why the hell he was there. He was met with a cold gaze that made him want to
disappear.
 
“It’s a Friday night and I’m an adult with the legal right to be anywhere I
want, Nathan. I think it’s more appropriate for you to explain why you’rehere.”
 
Nathan crossed his arms defensively, folding in on himself. He didn’t want to
sound like a crybaby - didn’t want anyone thinking he couldn’t fend for his
damn self - but he couldn’t lie to Mark Jefferson. “My dad was being a dick, I
had to go somewhere. Is that a crime?”
 
“No, but underage drinking is. You’re not even eighteen, Nathan, what the hell
are you thinking?”
 
“Who gives a shit how old I am, I know what I’m doing,” Nathan snapped back,
some of his words getting slurred together, “The hell do you care, anyways?”
 
Jefferson looked offended. “I care because you could get hurt-”
 
“M’ not gonna get hurt!”
 
Jefferson raised his voice loud enough to earn startled glances from the few
waiting at the nearby bus stop, “Will you just stop talking and listen to me
for one second?” Nathan pressed his lips together, forcing himself to stay
quiet. “Thank you. Now as I was saying - I care because you could get hurt,
Nathan. It’s illegal, and it’s unhealthy. I amsorry about your father. I just
wish you would have gone to a friend instead of fucking yourself up like this.”
 
Nathan stayed silent, staring at the ground. Jefferson must have taken pity on
him, because the next thing he did was sigh and reach around Nathan’s
shoulders, gently guiding him towards the small parking lot at the side of the
building.
 
“Come on, let’s go,” he said, steadying Nathan on the way to the small black
car. Once Nathan was settled in the front seat and Jefferson shut the driver’s
side door, he looked over to assess the situation. “You really are drunk,
aren’t you?”
 
Nathan scoffed, “S’not that bad, I can walk.”
 
“That man in there, was he bothering you?”
 
“Not really, asshole really thought he was gonna get laid. As fuckin’ if, his
mustache was creepy as shit. No way I’d let his dick anywhere near me.”
 
Now it was Jefferson’s turn to look uncomfortable. “I’m going to pretend I
didn’t hear that.”
 
The conversation dropped, but the silence wasn’t horrible. Nathan touched the
corner of the window where it was starting to fog up, dragging his finger
around to make thick squiggles on the glass. It wasn’t particularly warm in
Jefferson’s car, but it was better than sitting at the bar or standing outside,
and Nathan was starting to feel like he could fall asleep right there.
 
Eventually when Jefferson pulled his keys out and revved up the engine, heater
blasting hot air into the small space, he looked at Nathan. “I assume you don’t
want me to take you back to the estate?”
 
“Hell no,” Nathan shook his head.
 
“How about the dorms, then?”
 
He shook his head again. Plenty of people stayed on campus for the weekend -
not everyone had family to go home to in Arcadia Bay - but he wasn’t ready to
be alone and really face what had happened with Sean. His head was still foggy
and his body felt heavy in his seat. Truthfully, he was content to stay right
there for the rest of the night if Jefferson would let him. “Can’t I
just...stay with you?”
 
“Nathan, I’m not sure if that’s-”
 
“C’mon, I won’t be any trouble, I swear. Just put me in the back seat or
something, I’ll sleep for hours and you can do whatever you were already gonna
do tonight.” He gave Jefferson the best puppy dog eyes he could manage.
 
Jefferson sighed and stared at Nathan for a moment, clearly trying to talk
himself out of agreeing. But he’d never said no to Nathan before, not when
Nathan needed him to say yes.
 
“Well, I wasgoing to have a light drink then go home and unpack the new lenses
I ordered” -he chuckled when Nathan sat up a little straighter, always excited
to hear about new camera equipment- “but I guess there’s no harm in showing off
my toys and skipping the drink. You’ve had enough for the both of us.”
 
For the first time that night, Nathan was happy, and he fell asleep with his
head against the window, feeling warm and at peace as Jefferson drove through
the night.
 
When the car finally stopped and Nathan woke up, the first thing he noticed was
that Mark Jefferson’s house was small, at least compared to Sean’s estate. But
inside, Nathan felt like he finally had room to breathe. The decor reminded him
of a classier version of his own room at Blackwell; black counters, white walls
and flooring, and large-scale prints of Jefferson’s photos dating back to the
mid-90s adorned almost every wall. Nathan sat on the couch, still not fully
awake, and picked at the lint on a pillow while Jefferson brought out the boxes
and a box cutter.
 
“What kinda lenses did you get?”
 
The older man sat down next to him, working at the tape on the first box. “Some
of these are just backups, but this one,” he cut the last of the tape and put
the blade down on the coffee table, “is the new Sigma.”
 
“It looks cool,” Nathan said as Jefferson took the solid black lens out. ‘Cool’
was putting it mildly - it was beautiful, but he could geek out over it in the
morning when he had a little more energy.
 
Jefferson nodded, turning it over in his hands. “70-200 millimeters, 2.8 f-
stop. I’d hand it to you for a closer look, but you’ll have to forgive me for
not trusting you not to drop it right now.”
 
Nathan pouted, but it was smart not to trust his motor skills at the moment. If
he couldn’t look at the lens for himself, though, it’d be nice to see what kind
of images would come from it.  “Are you going to take some test shots tonight?
 
Jefferson looked at him strangely, a smile pulling at his lips before he said,
“Well I’d need a model for that, wouldn’t I?” There was something in his dark
eyes that made Nathan’s heart beat a little faster in anticipation. “Care to
pose?”
 
It was something Nathan had thought about more than he’d care to admit. Posing
for Mark Jefferson, getting to see himself how his idol saw him, for better or
worse. He’d always been resigned to the fact that Jefferson only shot women -
pretty women who looked nothing like him - but it’d still been a nice fantasy
to distract himself from the general shitshow of his life. But if Jefferson was
serious…
 
“I...I mean I - I don’t know how you want me to pose but. Okay. What do
you...want me to do?”
 
Standing up from the couch with the new lens in his hand, Jefferson chuckled a
little, “Whatever you want to do. We don’t need anything fancy for some trial
shots, so we can stay in here. You probably wouldn’t appreciate walking around
again so soon, anyway. I have to go get the camera set up, so sit tight.” And
with that, the older man disappeared down the hall, leaving Nathan alone with
nothing better to do than stare at the black and white and occasional color
prints hanging around him.
 
If he could be even half as good a model as these women, maybe it would give
Jefferson a reason to spend more time with Nathan than he already did. It was
an exciting thought, but the more he compared himself to the models on the
wall, the more he noticed that nudity was a trend in Jefferson’s work; lighting
and staging would only do so much for Nathan, nothing could change the fact
that he just didn’t have the look that the world-famous photographer wanted.
 
Suddenly, he was much more nervous about actually being in front of the camera
than he’d been in all of his fantasies. He needed to loosen up, or the photos
would never impress Jefferson.
 
Clumsily, Nathan pushed himself off the couch and tried not to trip on his way
to the mini bar on the other side of the room. Several bottles had already been
opened, so as quickly as he could, Nathan unscrewed the caps from some whiskey,
vodka, and wine, and promptly took a swig from each, careful not to drink so
much that the bottles lookedlike they’d been touched. The warm buzz was already
hitting him again as he made his way back to the couch, plopping down right
where he’d been not long before Jefferson came back in, assembled camera in
hand.
 
“Did you decide to stay on the couch?”
 
Nathan smiled, calm. The fresh shots would reallybe hitting him in a few
minutes. He wouldn’t have to worry about looking stiff and panicked in the
pictures, now. “Yeah, for now at least. S’comfy here.”
 
That earned another chuckle, and Jefferson was already pointing the camera at
him, taking a minute or two to look at some possible angles.
 
“Do you want me to like...smile or lay down or something?”
 
“Whatever feels natural for you.”
 
Nathan decided to pull the throw over his lap, clutching some of it to his
chest to do something with his hands.
 
“That’s great, Nathan, good,” Jefferson said, almost talking to himself as the
first camera shutter broke through the otherwise silent room. Nathan tried his
best to breath into it, to look relaxed and natural as Jefferson moved to the
side, trying another angle.
 
After the first two or three shots, Jefferson stood up straight to look at the
pictures he’d taken.
 
“How are they?”
 
Jefferson wasn’t smiling, which was worrying and confusing, especially when he
said, “Good. Nice and sharp.”
 
“Oh. That’s good.... Do I look okay?”
 
“You look...” Jefferson intensely appraised whatever photo was on the screen,
“Very drunk.”
 
Nathan grimaced. He'd wanted to look relaxed, not trashed. “Shit. Sorry.”
 
“No, don’t be.” The response was more serious than Nathan expected, and he
looked up in confusion. If it weren’t for the extra alcohol that was finally
kicking in, he would have squirmed under the older man’s gaze. It was
calculating. Admiring.
 
He'd seen the same look in Jefferson's eyes directed at the work of legends
like Robert Frank or Dorothea Lange; his heart bloomed at the thought that
Jefferson saw something just as captivating in him, but his throat tightened in
anticipation for the moment the man found some unforgivable flaw and lost
interest.
 
Jefferson just kept staring for a few moments before saying, “You look good,
Nathan. Honest, inviting - almost like a… provocative ingénue. You have
potential, you know that?”
 
“Oh. Uh…” Nathan had never seriously considered being a model. He’d always
wanted Jefferson to take pictures of him, but behind the camera was still where
he wanted to be. The praise was addictive, though, and he couldn’t ignore it.
he clung to Jefferson’s every word, even when a part of him recognized that the
comments had been more sexually charged than he should probably be okay with.
 
The air in the living room felt different, now. It no longer felt open and
free. Maybe it was the drinks, maybe it was just Jefferson’s words, but Nathan
felt hot in his jacket and his stomach was twisting. It wasn’t a bad feeling,
but it felt like something was coming.
 
“What are you thinking about?”
 
What a loaded question to ask. Nathan wasn’t sure he knew how to answer.
“Nothing, just. Can I see the pictures?”
 
“Of course,” Jefferson came around the coffee table and sat close to Nathan,
holding the camera between them so Nathan could see the screen.
 
The pictures would look different on a bigger screen, and would probably look
better if the lighting and background had been properly set up, but Jefferson
wasn’t kidding. The quality was still excellent regardless of the image
content; sharp details, flat field, good translation of colors - it was a good
investment. But that wasn’t what Jefferson was looking at, he knew. Nathan
struggled to focus on himself, embarrassed to see what he looked like on
camera, but he forced himself to try to see what Jefferson saw.
 
“I dunno...I just look as crappy n’ gone as I feel. The hell’s provocative
about that?”
 
“Oh, Nathan, don’t be so modest. Look at yourself, look at your flushed cheeks
and unfocused eyes.  Most sober models can only hope to mimic that look well
enough to be tantalizing. You’re seeing past the camera.You’re...innocent.”
There was silence as Nathan stared at the picture, beginning to see was
Jefferson was talking about, but too captivated by the insight into his
mentor’s mind to come up with anything to say. “Of course, the image would be
much better if we’d taken in in the studio, but it’s good for a test shot.”
 
He carefully took the camera from Jefferson’s hands to get a better look at
some of the details. A heavy hand rested on his shoulder, thumb pressing into
the back of his neck.
 
“You’re awfully quiet. Is something on your mind? You never did tell me what
happened with your father tonight.”
 
Nathan grimaced. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” Jefferson sighed like he
expected Nathan to say as much, but he didn’t push the matter.
 
Nathan didn’t actually have any reason to keep looking at the picture, but he
continued to stare at it in silence, reluctant to put it down and be forced to
acknowledge that the older man’s hand was still on him, his thumb now rubbing
Nathan’s neck like a sad excuse for a massage.
 
“You’re blushing.”
 
So much for ignoring it. He tried to sound casual when he said, “Probs just the
alcohol. ‘M drunk, remember?” but his voice just sounded flat.
 
“Do you want me to stop?” Jefferson didn’t move his hand while he waited for
Nathan to answer.
 
In all honestly, it did feel nice - Nathan was just terrified of misjudging
Jefferson’s intentions. He could feel it in his core that this was a critical
moment for their relationship, and if he fucked this up, Jefferson might not
want to see him again.
 
“No…I like it,” he admitted, hoping that would make the other happy.
 
It seemed to be the right response, because Jefferson smiled and moved his hand
up to touch the hair on the back of Nathan’s head. His voice was soft and thick
when he said, “You’re special, Nathan...strange...but a beautiful boy, all the
same. I hated seeing that man at the bar treat you so roughly like that. Nobody
in their right mind would be so careless with a pretty thing like you...I wish
I could take pictures of you like the rest of my models.”
 
Nathan looked at Jefferson with wide, expectant eyes.
 
“Stand up,” Jefferson suddenly commanded. Nathan obeyed, heart pounding, trying
to stay balanced as floor seemed to rock beneath him. “Take your jacket off.
Shoes and pants too. Leave the underwear.” Nathan fumbled more than once,
cursing under his breath when he needing to rest a hand on Jefferson’s knee a
few times to stop himself from falling over while he pulled off his shoes and
jeans.
 
Finally he stood before his mentor, stripped down to his socks and underwear
and a T-shirt. Jefferson was looking him up and down, a hunger in his eyes that
rivaled Nathan’s own desire to be wanted by the man sitting in front of him.
There was no way he was misjudging Jefferson’s intentions now, and butterflies
danced in his stomach at the thought that his idol Jefferson was actually
interested in him and didn’t mind that Nathan was so young.
 
“I’ve never taken pictures with a male model before, but I can already tell
you’ll be exquisite - You willlet me photograph you some more, won’t you?”
 
“Yeah...yeah, of course.”
 
“Good…” A moment of loaded silence. “Nathan?”
 
“Yeah?”
 
“Come here.”
 
Nathan mentally cringed at his own gracelessness as he practically collapsed
onto Jefferson. He wondered if it seemed too desperate to crawl onto his
teacher’s lap at the first command. Probably. Nathan didn’t really care. His
mind was going blank and his body felt heavy again,a throwback to when he
almost fell asleep in the car, as Jefferson kissed and bit at his neck,
apparently not in the mood for taking it slow. Nathan didn’t really care about
that either, was just grateful that Jefferson didn’t try to kiss him on the
mouth - it would’ve just felt wrong.
 
The couch was soft under his bare knees, and the heat radiating from
Jefferson’s chest made Nathan’s already flushed skin break out into a light
sweat. He couldn’t hold in the soft sounds that escaped him as Jefferson found
the sensitive areas around his throat. With every shaky moan that passed
through his lips, the older man became more aggressive with his attention on
those spots until Nathan was trembling on his lap, unable to think about damn
thing other than the way Jefferson’s hard-on was rubbing against his ass.
 
It wasn’t until he felt Jefferson tugging at the waistband of his underwear did
he regain some of his bearings as a panic started to creep in.
 
“Wait- wait, I don’t wanna…”
 
Jefferson let go, pulling back to look at Nathan. “What’s wrong?”
 
He tried to slow his ragged breathing without much luck. “ I think- I think I
just wanna sleep. I don’t feel good.”
 
“That’s okay, we can stop,” Jefferson’s voice was still thick with arousal, but
his words were sincere and calmed Nathan down just a little.He felt shitty for
ruining the fun, but he wasn’t sure he could’ve stopped himself from puking if
they didn’t stop when they did.
 
Jefferson helped Nathan up off the couch and led him to what looked like
Jefferson’s own bedroom.
 
“I hope you don’t mind sharing the bed. I’m just not comfortable with letting
you fall asleep without someone there to make sure you don’t throw up and
choke.”
 
“S’fine, I don’t give a shit as long as it’s horizontal.”
 
He sat with his legs crossed and back against the headboard, trying to stop
shaking while Jefferson went to the closet to change into some pajamas. Nathan
would have appreciated the view if he weren’t so freaked out. What the hell was
he even doing? Jefferson was his teacher, his mentor, a successful photographer
that didn’t deserve to get sucked into Nathan’s bullshit. Nathan knew he
couldn’t keep being so careless - he was going to get Jefferson in trouble. And
if his father ever found out…
 
A new wave of shakes hit him, and he felt the beginnings of a headache creeping
into his skull. Jefferson was beside him on the edge of the bed, touching his
neck again, trying to calm him.
 
“Nathan, I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me. What’s going on?” Nathan
couldn’t respond, just shook his head, hoping in vain that Jefferson would get
the message and leave it alone. “Are you upset by what we did on the couch? Are
you nervous because you’ve never done this before?”
 
Nathan barked out a humorless laugh and pushed Jefferson’s hand away, “I
haven’t been a virgin for years, old man. Now leave me alone.”
 
Please please please leave it alone.
 
“Years? Nathan, you’re only sixteen - who the hell were you sleeping with back
then?”
 
“I said leave me the fuck alone, okay! I already told you, I don’t want to talk
about it.”
 
It was the first time Nathan could remember seeing the arrogant Mark Jefferson
unsure what to say. Jefferson was quiet for a moment, clearly putting together
some pieces in his head. “Nathan-”
 
“I don’t wanna talk about it.”
 
“Well it’s pointless to try to hide it now, you’ve already put it out in the
open.”
 
“I don’t. Want. To talk about it. What the fuck is so hard to understand about
that?”
 
“Nathan, why are you being so difficult-?”
 
Jefferson didn’t get a chance to finish. Nathan couldn’t handle this
conversation right now, and he was going to put an end to it one way or
another. Those swigs from Jefferson’s mini bar must not have started to lose
their effect yet, because Nathan barely even felt himself scoot around
Jefferson and slide to his knees on the floor. He pulled Jefferson’s pajamas
and underwear down and took the now-flaccid cock into his mouth before the
older man could get another word in.
 
He looked up to watch Jefferson’s face while he sucked, waiting to see if he’d
try to stop him. Jefferson made no move to push him away, just shook his head.
“You really are a strange boy.”
 
Nathan didn’t answer. It was like a switch had been flipped and now he was
going into overdrive, going down on Jefferson with an unexpected burst of
determination. His headache was getting worse, but at least Jefferson wasn’t
pushing anymore, too busy grabbing at Nathan’s hair and groaning out a string
of curses to ask about anything serious again.
 
The minutes blurred together, and Nathan got so lost in the taste of slightly
sweaty skin that he was caught off guard when Jefferson pulled him off and
instructed him to get on his stomach on the bed.
 
He did as he was told, feeling a blankness wash over his thoughts as he rested
his cheek on the thick comforter. He kept his arms folded in front of him and
stared at the wall. His head felt light, like he could fall asleep right there
even as Jefferson touched him.
 
Jefferson knelt on the bed next to Nathan’s legs and made quick work of yanking
Nathan’s underwear down past his knees. Nathan couldn’t be bothered to kick
them off the rest of the way; Jefferson would take them off himself if they
became a problem. He could feel the bed shift as Jefferson leaned away for a
second, and he heard the bedside drawer slide up and closed, then the snap of a
bottle cap being opened.
 
He didn’t mind the fast pace; almost wished Jefferson would just hold him down
and push inside him already. Still, he jolted and whined at the rough and
slightly painful intrusion when Jefferson pushed in one slick finger, then
another, in two swift movements. He’d dealt with worse, but Nathan couldn’t
help the soft, “Ow,” that he mumbled out while Jefferson twisted and spread his
fingers around rather impatiently.
 
“Sorry.” The apology sounded sincere, but Jefferson didn’t do much to slow
down. He must’ve been impatient after being cock-blocked on the couch; Nathan
felt bad about so whiny and dramatic.
 
Jefferson pushed the back of Nathan’s shirt up and rubbed lightly at the bare
skin, drawing happier noises from Nathan as he finally started to loosen up.
His earlier panic had tensed his muscles considerably, but it was passing, and
with every rub down his spine and brush against his prostate, his body relaxed
into the dead weight it’d been before.
 
When Jefferson deemed him ready, he patted Nathan’s ass and told him to get on
his hands and knees. Nathan pushed himself up and did as he was told while
Jefferson stood up momentarily to kick his pajama pants off onto the floor. He
settled in behind Nathan, and Nathan could hear him uncapping the bottle of
lube again.
 
Jefferson put one hand on Nathan’s hip and guided his dick with the other. When
Nathan felt the tip push against him, he felt like his heart would beat out of
his chest. Was the minimal preparation going to be enough? He hoped so - it
would be humiliating to cry in front of his mentor in the middle of sex. He
wanted to be perfect for him.
 
There wasn’t much time to worry about it, though, because as soon as Jefferson
was lined up he began to push in, moving both of his hands to Nathan’s hips to
pull him back against him.
 
Nathan wasn’t sure if he actually cried out or not. There was a ringing in his
ears, the hum of a million nerves reacting to the intrusion, and his headache
was still raging. But the pain was more distressing than unbearable. He could
stand it if he forced himself to.
 
“It’s okay, it’s okay, you can take it, you’re okay,” Jefferson shushed, “You
want this.”
 
And Nathan believed him. Despite the shit, there was some good, distracting
Nathan from the overwhelming urge to get away. The worst was over with, now
Mark Jefferson, his teacher, his mentor, his idol, was fucking him.
 
He wanted this, he told himself over and over through Jefferson’s rough
thrusts, he wanted this, repeated it like a mantra until he felt his mind
finally coaxing his body into enjoying it. The sensation was intense and was
doing nothing to help him think any clearer.
 
While it felt infinitely better than anything his father had ever dished out on
him, he still felt out of control, unable to hold back grunts and moans that
were pushed out of him. Sweat was collecting on his flushed skin, making his
hair stick to his forehead and shirt stick to his shoulders. Jefferson had to
keep a bruising grip to stop his hands from slipping, and Nathan whined at how
possessive it felt.
 
This wasn’t quite like the pleasure he was used to; his own cock had been
entirely neglected, and he was fine with that. Being good for Jefferson was all
he was concerned about. Nathan was almost surprised when he felt heat coiling
in his stomach, growing tighter as Jefferson picked up the pace. He couldn’t
honestly say that he felt good, but Jefferson was using that soft, guttural
voice on him, voicing how pretty Nathan was, how good he felt, and it was
dizzying. He’d never thought he could get off on anal alone, but somehow it
made sense that Jefferson would be capable of taking him apart so fast like
this.
 
Or maybe it was just the fact that this was the longest someone he wantedto
sleep with had lasted, but Nathan wanted so badly to believe that there really
was something special about the man he’d admired for so long.
 
And when Jefferson reached around to stroke him in time with each thrust, and
used that damn voiceto coax Nathan so sweetly, “Come on, Nathan, cum for me,”
Nathan couldn’t possibly disobey if he wanted to.
 
He’d do anything for this man, for as long as Jefferson would let him. And
that, he hoped as he felt sleep overtaking him, would be for a very long time.
 
 
 
 
 
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