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Nathan had read once that a strong emotional bond was one of the most important factors in any successful relationship, and that one of the best ways to strengthen said bond was to spend quality time together doing something both partners enjoyed. Therefore, he reasoned, surely there was nothing that strengthened their particular bond quite like stealing. Except murder, maybe, but for now stealing seemed good enough.
They hadn't even fully planned to go shoplifting on that particular night, but Richard had discovered that his cigarette case was empty halfway through their ride to a local speakeasy, and of course he'd suggested that they should go grab some cigarettes before heading to the party – after all, the night had only just begun. It wasn't even midnight yet, and a quick trip to the store wouldn't take all night, and come on, Babe, it's just a quick detour, we'll be done in no time...
Halfway through attempting to convince Nathan, he'd suggested that they should grab some alcohol from the speakeasy (it wouldn't take long for everybody else to get so drunk that they wouldn't notice a couple of bottles – or five, or ten, or as many as the two of them could carry to their car before anyone got suspicious – missing), and Nathan really didn't like that idea, mostly because he had a ladyfriend waiting for him and he definitely did not want to chance him and Richard being thrown out halfway through the night because Richard had messed up and not concealed his stolen goods properly. Plus, he'd heard that the people who'd organized the alcohol in the first place had connections to the dark underbelly of the city and if there was one thing he wanted to avoid even more than humiliation in front of a date it was trouble with the Mob. Especially in front of a date. But he also knew that if he didn't agree Richard would never stop talking, and, Nathan had begrudgingly reminded himself, improvised couple time was still couple time. It shouldn't be a problem, after all, it was merely a routine trip – just some quick late-night shopping to stock up on nicotine and, later, booze in preparation for whatever bigger crime Richard would come up with next.
Richard practically lived on smoking and drinking, so their nightly burglary sprees had the positive side effects of not only giving Richard his daily dosage of adrenaline but also saving them quite a bit of money (not that they wouldn't have been able to afford it, but hey, free booze, free smokes, can't say no to that).
Breaking a lock and grabbing some cigarettes should have been easy, but things didn't always work out the way they should. Unlike Richard, Nathan did not keep flashlights, rope and other useful things in the trunk of his car (“You never know when an opportunity might arise, so it's best to be prepared,” Richard had told him when he'd first shown Nathan his hidden stack of equipment) so they ended up staggering through the store in the dark. They'd almost made it back out when Richard had tripped over something, and then while stumbling he'd ended up knocking something else over and suddenly there was the sound of breaking glass and something clattering onto the street and Richard swearing loudly, and then they were dashing off into the darkness of the Chicago night, the local night watchman right behind them.
Thankfully they hadn't ventured too far out from their own neighborhood, the autumn fog helping to conceal their tracks as they sprinted further away from the main roads, the heavy footsteps of the security guard slowly fading behind them as they ran through the maze of the city's unlit backstreets. Both Richard and Nathan knew the streets of Kenwood by heart, but Richard also knew the little alleyways behind the main lots like the back of his hand since he often used them to escape after his various less-than-legal endeavors. And no matter how fancy an area, the backlots were always the same – dark, desolate, and more often than not weirdly damp, full of convenient hiding places for a dirty criminal.
Nathan was almost sure that he couldn't hear the watchman anymore, which in all likelihood meant they'd lost him, but since Richard was still running he, too, kept his speed up. He wasn't sure exactly how long they'd been running or how far they'd come, but Richard seemed to know where he was going and time never mattered when your brain was flooded with excitement and your heart was racing and you were alive, alive, truly alive, nothing mattering except for the chase itself.
Some time ago, maybe a minute, maybe less, Richard had started giggling and all of Nathan's attempts to shush him had failed.
They must've been quite the sight, Nathan thought, speeding off like the entire police force of Chicago was on their trail (not that any involvement of the police would've mattered, supermen being above the law and everything), his pockets stuffed with lifted cigarettes, a laughing Richard leading the way, their expensive suits crumpled and slicked back hair ruined by the speed of the chase and the heavy moisture in the air. When he got home, he thought, he should probably hang the suit to dry, it wasn't raining yet but the nightly fog was thick and he didn't want to catch a cold--
Richard's arm, shooting out from the dark of the corner he had just taken, cut off Nathan's train of thought abruptly. He didn't have enough time to react or slow down so he ended up slamming into Richard at full speed and almost sent them both flying to the ground. They both staggered several more feet and barely managed to catch themselves before they hit the pavement, stumbling a few more steps through a puddle, splashing water all around them before finally coming to a stop. They clung to each other even after they stopped moving, both of them now doubled over, trying to catch their breath. There were a few moments of near silence before Richard started laughing again. Nathan, still very much out of breath, huffed a few sounds of amusement in between gasps for air and then started coughing.
Nathan tentatively let go of the fistful of Richard's jacket he had been holding on to but his knees immediately gave in and he dropped down, pulling the other man with him. Richard managed to catch him just before they hit the wet ground. “Don't you dare, this is one of my nice suits,” Richard hissed as he pulled him back up to a standing position.
Their gasps slowly ceased as their breathing slowed to a normal speed. Whereas before they had both been mutually clinging onto each other, Richard was now the one holding Nathan, giving Nathan a moment to realize that his legs were burning and one of his shoes felt weird, either because water had gotten into it or because its sole had not survived their hurried escape. Whatever the case was, he knew he'd have to do something about it and that already annoyed him immensely.
Nathan waited until his breathing had fully returned to normal before he looked up to meet Richard's gaze. They were quiet for a bit. Nathan thought that he could see something in Richard's eyes, something that wasn't just the half-bottle of liquor he'd chugged at the store nor the exhaustion of the chase. He wasn't given a lot of time to ponder it, though, because just as he opened his mouth to comment on their masterful escape (stroke Richard's ego a bit, so that he'd be more willing to do some stroking of his own later on tonight), Richard grabbed him by the shirt collar and yanked him up. He slammed him against the wall, and Nathan couldn't even cry out in confusion before Richard cut off his airflow by closing his hands around his throat and pressing his lips against Nathan's. Nathan tried to move back in surprise, stammering half-broken words against Richard's mouth, his Adam's apple bobbing against Richard's palm, and Richard loosened his grip a bit to let him speak.
“What if somebody sees us?”, Nathan asked, his voice sounding meeker than he liked. He was trying to breathe as shallowly as he could because every time his throat expanded Richard's grip tightened again, sending sparks of fear down his body and making his pants feel uncomfortably tight.
“We're alone, you sap,” Richard replied.
Nathan squirmed slightly. He could feel his heartbeat quickening again. Maybe if he closed his eyes the building pressure between his legs would lessen.
“We're-- we're going to be late,” he tried again, but he knew it was more of an attempt to convince himself than to actually get Richard to back off (and he also knew that Richard knew this, too). God, if Richard kept looking at him with his mouth half open like that, revealing his glistening teeth, he'd lose his fucking mind. Focusing on the grime-stained wall opposite them worked as a distraction for a short while but Richard was too close to him and too good at this game to let him drift off, and he was leaning in closer the more Nathan tried to back away. No matter how much Nathan tried to twist his neck to avoid having to look at Richard the other man moved with him, covering his entire field of view, and fuck, those teeth--
Richard let out an amused chuckle and started closing in on Nathan even further. Nathan breathed in sharply, any clarity he had before immediately gone as the smell of alcohol and nicotine on Richard's breath surrounded him. The deeper he tried to breathe to clear his mind the more his lungs filled with Richard's scent. Heslumped back a bit, letting his head rest against the wall. He felt dizzy, but not a bad way, more like his head was filled with soft, warm cotton, smelling slightly of cigarettes. It was a pleasant feeling, really, except that the pressure in his crotch had now developed into a painful, aching need for touch.
Richard mumbled a soft “don't worry about them” against Nathan's lips. He watched Nathan for a bit, almost inquisitively, reveling in the feeling of the boy's heartbeat quickening every time he did so much as breathe out onto his skin, now covered in goosebumps and coated with a thin layer of sweat. Just watching him, seeing what even the littlest of touches did to him, was quite nice for a change. Observing, taking in the dilation of his pupils and his flushed cheeks and the way his breath hitched whenever Richard varied the pressure he was applying to his throat, never tight enough to hurt, just enough to force him to stand still.
Richard let go of Nathan's throat and trailed a finger down Nathan's neck just to see what kind of effect it would have. To even Richard's surprise, Nathan whimpered .
He moved his hand further downwards, tenderly sliding his fingertips over the fabric of Nathan's shirt, but he stopped before he even reached Nathan's belt. Nathan didn't really seem like he was actuallyregisteringthe other man's movements anymore, only subconsciously shuddering at the touch. Therewas a short pause as Richard hesitated.They were both nearly motionless, Nathan's face tilted towards the night sky, eyes closed, breath quick and deep, almost hyperventilating, Richard's face dark, all movement stalled as if he were trying to concentrate as hard as possible, to plan ahead, to figure out the best way to proceed.
Nathan was the first to move again, suddenly snapping out of his confused daze, as if a hypnotist had snapped his finger to remove a trance laid upon him, and he scrambled to undo his belt, hands almost too shaky to do their job. He was still too dazed to think straight but if the buckle took even a second longer to open he knew he'd start to panic because what if Richard changed his mind – and even when he finally managed to get his belt undone he then had to fight with his zipper, and every further second he took might be the one in which Richard decided to quit.
His struggles were cut short by Richard's hand sneaking into his pants before he could even finish unzipping his fly. Nathan tensed up momentarily but it didn't take long for him to relax. This wasn't new, after all, and while the circumstances were unexpected at least the feeling of Richard's hand on his throbbing cock was rather familiar to him.
They'd done this often enough before that Richard knew all of his reactions by heart (the little moans, the beads of sweat on his brow, a quick twitch in his lower body). He moved his hand with the sure, knowing strokes of somebody who knew his partner like no other, who knew exactly what he needed to do to reduce him to a panting mess in a matter of seconds.
Nathan drifted off. He let himself melt into Richard's movements, his head clouded, looking up to escape the other man's hot breath. Richard made sure he didn't drift off too far, forcing him back to earth with a rough kiss every time he thought him looking too dazed, enjoying his squirming immensely.
They were both surprisingly quiet, Richard nothing more than a steady, deep breath in the back of Nathan's consciousness and Nathan himself being too far gone to say anything except occasionally moan the other's name whenever Richard changed the speed of his strokes or the strength of his grip, grinding into Richard's hand and burying his fingernails deeper in the fabric of his jacket at every subtle change. Nathan's breathing was close to hyperventilation and his heart was racing so fast that all he could hear was the constant pumping of blood in his ears, and then Richard started whispering an almost mindless “attaboy, good boy, good boy” into his ear and there was nothing, nothing in the entire world anymore except for Richard's voice and mouth and his hand on his cock.
Richard curled the fingers of his free hand in Nathan's hair and Nathan's eyes fluttered open. He looked down a bit, finding it very hard to focus when Richard was doing things with his hand around Nathan's cock that Nathan had never even thought possible before. Richard, noticing the movement, looked up too, and Nathan froze.
Richard's expression was almost entirely emotionless except for an underlying air of annoyance and spite, brows slightly furrowed, lips squeezed shut, eyes cold. Nathan barely managed to get out a frightened, confused breath before Richard blinked and strengthened the grip on his cock. The moment of clarity was gone immediately. Even though Nathan tried to find his way back to the thought that had formed when he saw the expression on Richard's face, it was just out of reach, just beyond that white plateau of pleasure, and he had no choice but to give up and surrender himself completely to Richard's hands. There was something there, something that was important, but the only way to think about it was to free himself from Richard's grip and there was no way he was doing that now.
Richard's strokes became harder, quicker, almost brutal. The word shot across Nathan's mind but he still couldn't articulate it into a coherent thought. Richard's lips closed in on his ear and he whispered something, breath hot and words cold, but Nathan was too far gone to understand what he was saying. He came quickly, violently, almost without warning, bucking into Richard's hand, his garbled moan muffled by Richard's other hand pressed over his mouth.
By the time Nathan's head finally began to clear Richard's hands had left his pants, but he was still propping him up with his body, pressing him against the cold wall in case Nathan's legs gave out again. He opened his eyes, still dazed, blinking away the sweat that had run down from his forehead, and he raised a shaking hand to wipe his face. Richard immediately left his side and walked a bit down the street. The midnight air was cold and without the other man's body heat and his own adrenaline coursing through him, Nathan began to realize just how much his sweat and the foggy air had dampened his clothes. He shuddered.
Richard pulled out a pack of cigarettes – Nathan recognized the brand, not his usual kind, so it had to be one of the boxes they'd stolen less than an hour ago – and stopped, his back to Nathan. He heard the familiar sounds of Richard striking a match and lighting his cigarette, the orange glow momentarily visible before he extinguished the match again, dropping it to the ground where it sizzled for a couple of seconds before going out. He watched Richard, but all the man did was breathe in and out, slowly, deliberately, smoke surrounding him. The air smelled like rain. There was something in Richard's movements that filled Nathan's heart with an instinctive chill.
“Richard?” Nathan asked, voice still slightly shaky. Richard inhaled again, deeply, a short pause, but the only reply Nathan got was Richard looking up to the night sky and slowly exhaling a cloud of cigarette smoke. Somewhere nearby a police car began ringing its bell and Nathan flinched involuntarily, ducking even though they were well hidden by the shadows of the alleyway.
Not quite sure what to do, Nathan began to tidy himself up as much as he could, unsuccessfully trying to brush the stains from his pants, tucking his shirt back in, and just as he finally gave up on attempting to smooth the wrinkles out of his shirt collar Richard spoke. His voice was distant; matter-of-fact.
“That's my part of the deal.” He paused. Nathan didn't dare to breathe. “See you in the car,” he finished, snapping his cigarette case shut and walking off. Nathan tried to meet his eyes, but Richard was gone, not even glancing at Nathan before he disappeared around the corner.
The night air was cold and damp, and in the distance, far away from Nathan's pounding heart and Richard's fading footsteps, the clanging of the police bell continued.