Zombieklok

Rating: PG
Category: AU
Pairing(s): Nathan/Charles
Warnings: Frisky lovers in public places.
Summary: Nathan finds a new and creative way to mortify Charles in public.
Notes:

Charles was bored. Nathan was bored. Bored right the hell out of their minds to an agonizing degree. They had been invited to a dinner at the university Charles had attended years ago, and for some reason they said yes. And now they were in hell, trapped at some stupid table in some stupid hall listening to some stupid dildo drone on and on about who-the-fuck-knew-or-cared-what.

“Man this is brutal,” said Nathan, poking listlessly at his ice water. “We can’t even drink. Who the fuck throws a dinner party where you can’t drink?”

“The dean of the school thinks drinking is a sin,” said Charles.

Nathan rolled his eyes and made a sound of exasperation; a gigantic three-year-old waiting for the adults to be done whatever dull shit they were up to. Charles smiled faintly.

“Just a little while longer.”

“This is brutal. It’s like hell only boring. Why can’t we go?”

“Because I was asked to address the students who will be graduating next month and speak about the importance of knowledge and education in their futures.”

“I guess you’re not gonna tell them that the billionaire you shacked up with and work for is functionally illiterate and a high school dropout, huh?” Nathan grinned.

“Most people do not come equipped with the sort of natural talent that you have.”

“Yeah think how awesome I would be if I could spell.”

Charles gave him a look of fond exasperation. “Would you like to wait in the car and play with your crayons?”

Nathan grinned at Charles, and suddenly a wicked glint came into his hard predatory eyes. Charles felt himself go cold.

“Oh no. Don’t even think it. Nathan… I’m warning you. Do not do that. Not here. Not in front of a room full of my peers and… you’re not listening to me at all are you?”

Nathan leaned close to nuzzle Charles’ ear, and whispered; “What’s your name?”

Charles felt his entire body tingle, and his throat became tight. “Nathan don’t, there are people watching!”

“Who’s your daddy?”

Charles shivered. “Nathan stop it! This is neither the time nor the place for…”

“Is he rich like me?”

“Nathan! I have to give a talk in…”

“Has he taken any time to show you what you need to live?”

“Oh lord…” Charles half-whimpered, half giggled as he began melting into his chair, his heart pounding and his boxers FAR too tight as he panted. “I seriously hate you…”

Nathan nipped his ear. “Tell it to me slowly. Tell you what? I really want to know.
It's the time of the season for loving…”

And that was it; Charles was gone. He was a melted over-stimulated little pile of lawyer in an uncomfortable chair, his head falling back, a delicate sheen of sweat covering his skin.

“I hate you so much you bastard…”

Nathan grinned, then softly kissed him, carefully slipping the tips of his fingers between Charles’ thighs, touching him. Charles uttered a strangled gasp and tried to push Nathan back.

“Nathan so help me…”

Both Nathan and Charles froze, their eyes huge, as suddenly a spotlight focused on their table. The dean of the university kept speaking.

“And now as a special treat, one of our most successful graduates to have ever graced our halls will now address the room. May I present Mr. Charles Foster Offdensen!”

Charles grabbed up his notes and hurried up to the podium, sweaty, hair askew, hands shaking, and utterly flustered. The notes spilled to the floor, and he hastily gathered them up, straightening to stand before the podium, shoving one hand through his hair in an attempt to straighten it. He glanced over to his table and saw Nathan just sitting there, hands folded on the white linen cloth, blinking innocently as if it would never occur to him to do anything as awful as get his boyfriend into a state of sexual arousal before he had to appear before a group of university students. Oh no!

Charles cleared his throat and tried to get himself under control. “Thank you, Dean Chandler.”

“Give ‘em hell, Charlie!” came a guttural growl from the audience. There was some laughter.

Oh Lordie. Charles pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head, then sighed.

“Thank you Nathan. I shall endeavour to do my best.” He then added quietly to himself; “Now that you have me looking like a refugee from an all-night peep show.”

Dammit. His notes were all screwed up, thank you very much Nathan. This was just what he wanted to do with his evening, make a fool of himself in front of a lot of entitled trust-fund babies who probably didn’t make it here on their own merit in the first place. Ah FUCK why did he agree to…?

A paper airplane landed on the podium. There was only one person who would toss a paper airplane at a time like this, and Charles dreaded finding out what was so vital that Nathan just had to further humiliate him. Carefully Charles opened the paper airplane, and read the single word there.

Breathe.

Charles smiled, then folded up the note. He was about to put it in his pocket when he paused, casting a look over his shoulder at Dean Chandler.

“Unless you would like me to read this out to the class?”

The man just chuckled. Feeling a little more calm and controlled, Charles gathered his notes, and began his speech. The students and faculty were attentive and polite. Nathan made origami animals out of the cloth napkins then posed them in obscene positions. After the speech was given and the whole mind-bogglingly dull affair was over, they slipped away in a stretch limo, heading back for Mordhaus.

“I can’t take you anywhere,” said Charles.

“Aw like you didn’t know that.” Nathan handed Charles a glass of brandy, then opened himself a beer. Charles accepted the glass.

“Nathan I love you but honestly we are going to have to have a talk about your compulsion control.”

“Uh huh,” said Nathan. “I’ll get right on that.”

He lightly thumped the roof of the limo with his fist. Suddenly the interior of the luxury limo was filed with slow-moving amoeba lights, the smell of patchouli, and the hushed-erotic sound of the Zombies singing ‘Time of the Season’.

“I don’t even want to know how you did that,” said Charles.

Nathan just grinned and set aside his beer, pulling Charles close and singing softly in his ear, his voice a guttural growl;

“It's the time of the season
When the love runs high.
In this time, give it to me easy,
And let me try with pleasured hands
To take you and the sun to
promised lands… ”

“Well,” said Charles softly. “How can I say no when you ask so nicely?”

“I thought you’d see it my way.”

Charles sank back into the soft leather of the limo seat, pulling Nathan down on top of him as the car drove silently home.