five times skandar saw ben & anna kissing, skandar/anna/ben, nc-17
Title: five times skandar saw ben & anna kissing
Author: likecharity
Pairing: Skandar/Anna/Ben
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Real person het and slash, voyeurism.
Summary: The first time Skandar sees them kissing, they're rehearsing. After that, he seems to make a bit of a habit of it.
A/N: Idk, everything can be blamed on this picture.
The first time Skandar sees them kissing, they're rehearsing.
It's just a quick runthrough of the Susan/Caspian kiss, Andrew directing them through it before any cameras or extras get involved. It's just to get them more comfortable, though Ben's not sure that anything could make this comfortable, considering the utter, utter weirdness of it.
It's not really kissing Anna that's weird. It's kissing her in this sort of situation, with Andrew standing there saying encouraging things on the sidelines, and with the anticipation of a repeat performance (plus an audience) looming over their heads.
And so, anyway, Anna has just rushed into his arms and pressed her lips to his when Skandar appears out of nowhere, trips over a stray wire, and goes hurtling towards them.
"Ack," he says after a moment, getting to his feet shakily and brushing himself down. "Sorry. I didn't realise anyone was in here. I'll -- I'll go now. Leave you to it."
Anna splutters with laughter the second Skandar rounds the corner, and that sets Ben and Andrew off too. They can't get through the scene after that.
The first time Skandar sees them kissing, they're rehearsing.
After that, he seems to make a bit of a habit of it.
The next time Skandar sees them kissing doesn't really count. He can't really avoid it when it comes to filming the scene, so he can't be blamed for that, Ben supposes.
What he can be blamed for is messing up his line repeatedly so that they have to film the kiss over and over.
"I'm sorry," he says, grimacing as everybody returns to their marks for the sixth time. "I don't know what's wrong with me."
"Hey, I don't think they're complaining," calls an extra from the crowd. "Not exactly a bad scene to have to do over, is it?"
Everybody laughs and Ben grits his teeth. The thing is, whoever they are, they're right. It's not a bad thing to have to keep repeating, but there's still a problem: the more takes they do, the more he's starting to enjoy it. That really can't be good. The whole co-star thing is a bad idea, so he's heard, but he's sure he can feel something from Anna every time she runs up to him, her lips warm and soft against his.
"If we're going to have you in the background of this shot, Skandar," says Andrew suddenly, "you're going to have to look a little more disgusted."
Ben sighs. It's going to be a long day.
So, the time that is (for all intents and purposes) the second time that Skandar sees them kissing, it is an accident.
They manage to keep things professional during filming but there's just this unavoidable spark between them that neither of them can quite bear to ignore. They try pretty hard, actually, but then there is a premiere with too much champagne and the night sort of ends with Ben dragging Anna into the men's toilets and kissing her up against the wall.
Skandar doesn't trip over anything this time, but he does make a sort of weird sound with his throat and then goggle at them for a bit, before coming to his senses, babbling apologies and hurrying away.
The second time Skandar sees them kissing, it's an accident.
After that, though? Ben's not so sure.
Take, for example, the third time Skandar sees them kissing.
It can't really be called an accident. At all. Although Skandar tries to pass it off as one, of course.
An over-the-top expression of shock crosses his face and he sort of backs towards the door, hand over his eyes as Anna straightens out her t-shirt. (They weren't just kissing, this time, it was more like making out. At any rate, there had been hands underneath clothes.) He says he was just coming in to borrow something from Ben and he didn't realise Anna was there, so sorry, won't happen again, etc etc. Ben practically has to push him out of the room.
The thing is, though, Ben knows it's all a lie.
When Anna turned up, knocking briskly on the hotel room door, and Ben opened it to greet her, he took a quick glance up and down the corridor as she slipped inside, and he's ninety nine per cent sure he saw Skandar hanging around a little further down by a drinks machine.
They even made eye contact, he's almost certain.
He meant to walk in on them; Ben's just not sure why, exactly.
Which wouldn't be that much of a problem if that was the last time, but it isn't. The next time is much worse.
The fourth time Skandar sees them kissing, they are not just kissing. It is their first time having sex with each other, and they're interrupted by hammering on the door at 1am.
They try to ignore it but it doesn't stop, so Ben hobbles across the room with his cock still hard and a sheet lamely attempting to disguise it, and angrily flings the door open.
And of course, Skandar's standing there, with sleepy eyes and his dressing gown on inside out.
"Hello," he says, and then his eyes dart immediately down to Ben's crotch and he goes an impressive shade of pink. His brain works quickly and his eyes go behind Ben to where Anna is sitting up in bed, blanket pulled up and clutched to her chest.
Ben -- rather gallantly, he thinks -- takes a big step out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him to preserve Anna's modesty. Luckily, there doesn't seem to be anyone around at this time to be disturbed by this odd scene in the corridor.
"What the fuck are you trying to do?" he snaps, angrier than he realised, and Skandar looks slightly guilty and taken aback.
"I'm sorry, I was -- Ben, have you just locked yourself out?"
A pause.
"Shit."
He has, and because of that, he never finds out what Skandar's reason for this fourth interruption is. Anna is mad at him for some reason, and flat-out refuses to let him back in, leaving him to the painfully embarrassing experience of trying to explain the situation to a rather startled old bespectacled porter in the hotel reception.
Anna doesn't talk to him throughout the entire flight to London, which isn't very fair, in his opinion. It's not like he invited Skandar to turn up while they were mid-coitus. After trying to get her to speak for maybe the first hour or so, he gives up and attempts to swap seats with someone. No one nearby is willing, so Ben just goes for the first empty seat he sees.
And ends up next to Skandar.
"What's your deal?" Ben asks in an undertone, taking advantage of these new seating arrangements.
"I've sort of," says Skandar, then shuffles around, the tray on the seat-back in front of him banging against his knees. "I've got this," he says, then stops abruptly, pushing the tray back up and spending what feels like five minutes trying to get it to stay there.
"It's clearly broken," says Ben frustratedly.
"Hang on," is all Skandar says, brow savagely furrowed as he twists the knob pointlessly.
"No," says Ben, pushing Skandar's hand out of the way. The tray flips back down onto Skandar's knees. "What's your deal?"
Skandar frowns, looking infuriatingly confused. "With what?"
And that's when the tray breaks off from the seat-back altogether and jabs Skandar in the stomach, and a stewardess (under the impression that she's being helpful) moves Skandar to a different seat.
Ben's seat. Next to Anna.
Ben is concerned.
By some miracle, though, Anna seems to have let him out of the doghouse (despite the fact that he abandoned her on the plane) and is speaking to him by the time they're going through passport control.
"I think Skandar has a voyeurism problem," Ben informs her darkly as they head for baggage return.
She breaks into a sudden fit of laughter, almost choking on a sip from her bottle of water, and has to stop and step away from the group to calm down. Ben waits patiently, and then looks at her, expectant.
"Do you?" is all she says.
He frowns. "Why else," he says, "would he keep--"
"It's Skandar," she interrupts. "Don't expect a simple explanation."
He doesn't.
"Can we," breathes Ben, fingers sliding up Anna's thigh under her dress, "go back to the hotel now?"
He can feel her purse her lips against his neck. "Hmm."
"Please?" he adds. "You told me to ask you in half an hour, and it's been--"
Her fingers loop around his wrist suddenly, fumble for his watch. "It's been twenty eight minutes, I'd say," she says, fighting a smile.
"Anna," Ben sighs. "Anna, please."
She stops fighting the smile, lets it part her lips wide. She smoothes her hand across the sleeve of his jacket, up to his shoulder, and then she cups his face to turn it towards her own and presses a kiss to his lips. "Okay," she answers, finally.
And that's when they hear the cough.
Ben doesn't need to turn around to know who it is that's coughing, but he turns anyway. He was absolutely convinced they'd managed to find a private spot, but apparently not.
"Would it be all right," says Skandar, swaying slightly, "if I came with you?"
"You don't look very well," Anna replies immediately while Ben is still trying to penetrate the meaning of Skandar's question. "Yes, you probably should. We can get you some water and you can have a lie-down." She looks him up and down. "You're drunk, aren't you? You've gotten really drunk. That was stupid," she admonishes.
"No," disagrees Skandar, leaning against the wall for support. "I mean -- yes, I am, and I have, but no, it wasn't. I don't think it was."
"You're rambling," says Anna. "Come on."
"What are you doing?" hisses Ben to her, when they're on their way and Skandar doesn't seem to be listening. "Are you really letting him interrupt us again--"
"Oh, calm down," Anna snaps. "We'll just put him to bed and then we can -- well, put ourselves to bed."
She grins at him and he gives in, as always. Really, all it takes is a little flash of mischief behind those innocent blue eyes and he's a goner.
Damn that Anna Popplewell, he thinks vaguely as he trots obediently after her into the lift.
Somewhere along the way, this plan becomes a little muddled.
First of all, Skandar is more out of it than they thought, and can't seem to make it to his own hotel room. If Ben himself was a bit more sober, he might offer some adequate explanation for why he offers his own room instead.
But he isn't, and he can't.
But he does. Offer his own room, that is.
So that's why Skandar ends up sprawled across Ben's bed with his shoes still on, while Anna potters around in the bathroom getting him some water, and some painkillers for the headache he apparently has.
"Is it," says Ben crossly, looming over Skandar, "your mission in life," he continues, leaning over a little more in an attempt to make himself appear threatening, "to repeatedly cockblock me?"
"Nobody uses the word cockblock," Skandar tells him helpfully, laughing drunkenly to himself for a moment. Then he says, "Also, no."
"You're very good at doing it by mistake then," Ben says. "You should probably learn how to stop."
Skandar seems to consider this, but only in a half-hearted sort of way.
"Is it Anna?" asks Ben. He asks this because Anna is running the tap in the bathroom and he's pretty sure she can't hear him. "Do you fancy Anna? Because listen, mate, I had no idea, and I'm sorry that it's--"
"Yeah," Skandar interrupts. He laughs, looking kind of dazed. "I do. I think. I mean, well, not really. See, it's," he says, and then pauses for a long time before finishing it all off with, "no, yeah, I do."
"Right," says Ben. It all seems to make a bit more sense now. He thinks he can cope with this. "Well, I'm sorry. I mean, that must be really hard, and I didn't realise. But you can't keep showing up, it's not going to--"
"That's not all!" Skandar interrupts unexpectedly, hauling himself up into a sitting position. "That's not all."
Ben waits patiently, but Skandar is just looking at him and not saying anything else.
"You're on my last nerve, I'm sorry," Ben says sharply. "What else is there?"
Skandar tilts his head on one side, takes a deep breath, and --
That's when Anna comes back in, a glass of water in one hand and a packet of Ibuprofen in the other.
"I don't know why you can't learn your limits," she tuts, handing both items to Skandar, who is looking a little shaken by the timing of her entrance. "Just because no one pays attention to the fact that you're drinking doesn't mean you have to..."
She carries on, telling him off in a way that Ben finds somewhat disturbing. It's the way she's speaking, the way she's treating him. It's very sisterly, that's the thing, because while she's being caring, she's also quite annoyed with him, he thinks. Disappointed in him. She's telling him off, lecturing him, almost. He supposes that makes sense, because she is a few years older than him and she has spent a lot of time acting the big sister, so that's not really the disturbing part.
The disturbing part is that he finds it kind of sexy.
Dear god, he finds it really, really sexy.
"Drink it all," says Anna firmly as Skandar sits up and takes a reluctant sip of the water.
Ben needs to sit down, and does so, on the end of the bed. Anna says something about how she's going to keep an eye on Skandar next time, and Skandar nods resignedly, even blushing slightly, and Ben shifts uncomfortably.
This is perfectly ordinary, he tries frantically to reassure himself as he feels his trousers beginning to tighten a little. One of the things he's always found so sexy about Anna is the way she takes charge, makes sure she's in control. As much as he complains about it, he loves it when she tells him what to do, when she makes the rules, and makes sure he abides by them.
And so it's probably perfectly natural for him to be turned on watching her behave that way with somebody else.
Ordinary and natural it may be, then, but comfortable and convenient it is not.
It's getting to the point where he's going to have to hold his hands over his crotch.
He does.
They would be oblivious, maybe, if he didn't make a sort of pitiful sound and murmur, "Oh dear, oh dear."
And that's when the plan gets really, really muddled. Because there's no way any of them could have planned this.
He's pretty sure, anyway.
"Skandar, I think you should go back to your room now," says Anna, eyes shifting and darting like she doesn't know where to look.
Ben tenses his thighs, tries to to think about his grandparents and Georgie and that dream he had that one time where his dick was bitten off by a shark. Nothing works.
Skandar snorts derisively. "Are you kidding?" he says. "I'm not leaving just so the two of you can fuck."
"Skandar."
"I'm not!"
Anna frowns at him, a crinkle in her forehead and her mouth a hard line. It's probably the most riled-up Ben's ever seen her. He knows she really must be angry or upset or confused or something because usually she picks her words pretty carefully and right now she's saying,
"What are you going to do then? Stay and watch?"
Something catches in Ben's throat and he really wants to cough, but the silence is too tense and he feels it would be dangerous to break it. He's staring at his feet, his shiny black shoes, and he doesn't need to look up to know what Skandar's answer is because it doesn't come in the form of words. It's the non-response, the lack of denial, the just-fucking-sitting-there that tells them all they need to know.
"Skandar," says Anna quietly. "You don't really mean--"
Skandar gives a sort of apologetic one-shouldered shrug. "In my defence," he says, "I am very, very drunk."
And so, the fifth time Skandar sees them kissing, it is very much on purpose.
Ben says, "Oh, I don't know about this," but the insistent, inexplicable throbbing in his trousers disagrees with him.
Anna looks at him and her eyes seem to say, shh, give him what he wants and maybe he'll leave us alone. And maybe it's really as simple as that, maybe Skandar's just got some weird fascination with the idea. After all he's only a kid, sixteen years old, probably not all that experienced. Maybe he's just curious. Maybe he's decided that if he can't have Anna he's still got to see what it's like to have her.
Ben doesn't know.
All he knows is that he feels very scrutinised, Skandar's eyes on him as Anna comes closer to him on the bed and tilts his head towards hers.
"This is stupid," says Ben, eyes fixed on Skandar just as intently. "Haven't you seen this enough?"
"No," says Skandar firmly, challengingly, and Ben's still looking at him for a moment when Anna's lips meet his, their eyes locked.
And then his eyelids fall shut and Anna's tongue slides between his lips and he thinks that's going a little too far, but they didn't exactly set out any rules for this and he has the feeling Skandar's not going to be satisfied with a peck on the lips, so he obliges, and it's all soft warmth and sweet breath like Anna's kisses always are. He can almost forget Skandar's presence, Skandar's quiet, watching presence on the corner of the bed.
Almost. He can feel it, and hear Skandar's breathing, and he wants it to be putting him off, he really does, but it just isn't.
Not that it isn't having any effect, because oh god, it definitely is, it's making his cock so hard he feels lightheaded and it's making him want to say "You want a show, Skandar? We'll give you a show," and fucking throw Anna down and let Skandar see what it's really like to have her.
He's straining against his trousers. Literally straining -- lifting his hips and squirming and trying to get some kind of friction against his cock because if he doesn't, he thinks he's going to explode. He knows Skandar must be able to tell what he's doing but he can't bring himself to care. Anna's hand brushes his thigh suddenly and he tenses, breaking away from her.
"Anna," he says pathetically, pleadingly, and she knows what he means, knows what he needs but she just looks at him.
"We can't--" she says, and then stops, and the sentence finishes itself in Ben's head, do this with him watching, and he shuts his eyes and sighs because he knows, but it's clear that Skandar's made himself comfortable and isn't leaving any time soon.
He wishes this were some kind of porno so he could say things like "Do you want to see more?" and not feel like a complete twat about it, but it isn't and he most definitely would, so he just looks at Skandar and says, "Look, mate, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to leave so that we can take care of this."
By 'this' he means his erection, but doesn't want to draw any more attention to it by gesturing or something, so he just hopes Skandar catches his drift.
He does. "But I want to stay, though."
"But you can't," says Ben.
"Why?"
"Because."
"Because what?"
"Because isn't that really fucking weird," Ben says helplessly, hopefully saying what they're all thinking. He drags a hand back through sweaty hair and wonders how in the hell he's managed to get himself into a situation like this one.
"I'll be practically invisible, you won't even know I'm here," Skandar promises.
Ben knows he's lying, and that it's not the first lie he's told since this whole thing started. And even with that knowledge, that knowledge that should stop him going any further, he still nods, a passive sort of acceptance, and turns to Anna to see if she's got anything to add.
All he knows is that he needs somebody to touch him, and if Skandar's not going to leave then the only other option is for him to stay.
Anna exhales suddenly -- clearly she's been holding her breath -- and kisses Ben again, suddenly and passionately, fingers threading through his hair. The intensity of it catches him off guard and he grapples at her back, and he hears Skandar echo her breath in reverse, sucking air sharply inwards. Skandar's got to be insane, Ben thinks frantically, as Anna's hand brushes over his crotch and his hips jerk up into the touch. He has got to be insane. Why would anyone in their right mind want to watch someone they fancy make out with somebody else? It's messed up, it's really messed up, but it's also happening, so he just keeps his eyes squeezed shut and presses against Anna's palm and pretends they're alone.
A small part of him is hoping Skandar really has drunk as much as he claims, and is going to throw up all over the carpet or something and interrupt this. Unfortunately, it is a very small part of him. Every single other part wants Anna to unzip his trousers.
And that is what she's currently doing.
"Ben," she says in a small voice into his ear, her breath hot and prickly against his skin.
"Yeah, I know," he breathes, and he opens his eyes and keeps them focused down, trying to ignore Skandar. (It has the added bonus of giving him a pretty good view down Anna's dress.)
Her hand is reaching inside his trousers now, fumbling with the button on his boxers. He can feel his face going hot and if he's blushing then he's going to have even more problems with this state of affairs than he thought he did. When Anna's hand pulls his cock through the slit in the fabric he sighs with relief, but then out of the corner of his eye he sees Skandar shuffling, and his heart quickens its pace. He's trying to see. He supposes he should've expected that. He shouldn't have thought Anna would have been able to get him off with a quick handjob, the actual event obscured by his clothes and her body. Once one is in a situation like this, one cannot really do things by halves.
That's probably why Anna shifts aside, bringing his cock into full view, her hand clasped tightly around the base and frustratingly still.
Ben swallows. He doesn't have to look up to know that Skandar's staring. Staring seems to be all Skandar does lately. Which, in hindsight, was fine, actually, when he was just staring at them kissing, or staring disturbingly intently at all the scenes in the film involving Susan and Caspian, or deliberately dropping crisps to stoop down and stare at their feet touching under the table. But this is not any of those things. This is Skandar staring at his cock, his hard, aching cock in Anna's hand, and that crosses so many lines that it should be a geometry question or something.
He can't help wondering what Skandar's thinking. Is he looking because he wants to know if Ben is bigger than him? What if Ben isn't bigger than him? Ben groans out loud, partly because now is really not the time to be feeling any sort of penile inadequacy, and partly because Anna does something interesting with her wrist and then starts sliding her hand up and down and fuck, Skandar is still watching.
Of course Skandar is still watching. Ben can't help but wonder how, exactly, he went -- in one night -- from innocently kissing his girlfriend at Disneyland to getting wanked off in front of a sixteen year old boy. He's defiling young minds. He's never done anything more wrong than this.
Which would probably be okay if he was satisfied with his guilt levels, but he is not. They really should be higher.
His rational thought is rapidly disappearing, though. He's watching, sort of mesmerised, as Anna's fist glides up and down his cock, slick with precome. It feels better than it ever has. It's making his brain short-circuit. He clings pathetically to her waist, his hips jerking, moving in rhythm with each slide of her hand. His face is red, now, he knows, but he can't even bring himself to care. The relief of it is just so good -- her cool, tight hand, curled around him, bringing him closer and closer.
Skandar shifts again, and Ben's eyes dart up before he can stop them. Their eyes meet. Skandar's don't jerk away, so Ben follows suit, staring at him. He's not going to back down if Skandar isn't. Anna's fist moves faster and he bites down on his bottom lip, trying to keep himself from moaning. His breathing is heavy and hot against her bare shoulder and Skandar is watching with a burning intensity that makes him simultaneously uncomfortable and turned on.
Skandar is moving. "You want a closer look?" Ben's brain supplies lamely in its best pornstar voice, as Skandar rumples the sheets underneath him and shuffles nearer.
"Am I," Skandar mumbles, his words slightly slurred once again, "am I -- allowed to -- I mean, can I touch?"
Ben's body jolts involuntarily, and he hears himself say, "I think you're the one making up the rules here, mate."
Skandar is trembling madly as he reaches out. Anna's hand stops moving but doesn't leave, and Ben watches, frozen to the spot, as Skandar's hand closes around it. It's just curiosity, Ben tells himself firmly. That's all it is. Skandar's young and curious. He just wants to try it, experiment. And that's fine. That's fine, Ben's brain insists. He's helping Skandar out. It's what any good friend would do.
"Have you done this before?" Anna asks, her voice surprisingly calm. "On -- someone other than yourself, I mean."
Skandar hesitates. "No," he says eventually, slowly.
Ben cannot imagine why he would be the first guy Skandar would want to do this to, but there's not much that he can imagine at the moment, as Anna twists and slides her hand again, Skandar's curved over it. She guides, shows him, going slowly at first and then faster, until Ben is feeling a tightening, a clenching, a twisting in his spine.
"Do you want me to let go?" Anna asks quietly.
"What -- no," Ben chokes out, fingers digging into her hip, and Anna chuckles softly.
"I was talking to Skandar," she says, and all Ben has time to think is fuck before Anna's hand slips away and is replaced by Skandar's.
Skandar's hand is larger, rougher, holding him tighter. It strokes, rubs, and there's a quick slide of a callused thumb over the tip of his cock that makes him moan out loud, and then, just as quickly, it's all gone.
"Skandar, fuck," he rasps, coughing, wrapping his own hand around himself in desperation. "Don't do that, I was--"
"I want," says Skandar, fidgeting, uncertain, "I want to see," he stops abruptly and makes a noise of frustration. "I just don't want this to be it," he says eventually, avoiding their eyes.
"You are so drunk," says Anna, worry creeping back into her voice again.
"Anna," says Skandar. He looks up at her, his eyes big and dark and pleading.
Anna looks down at the bed, and then back at him. "What do you want, Skandar?"
"I want..." Skandar murmurs, "I want you to kiss him again."
"I don't think that's all you want, mate," Ben starts to say, but Anna cuts him off with her lips.
And this time, he's not sure either of them are in control. It's her sliding her tongue past his lips and threading fingers through his hair, but he can't help but feel that Skandar's the one in charge now. He feels hot, slender fingers brush his wrist, his watch-strap, and then a sticky hand guiding him to reach under the rumpled skirt of Anna's dress. He wants to say we've done this before, we don't need you to show us how, but then he unexpectedly feels soft, damp hair and hot slick skin, and his vocal chords seem to seize up.
"Anna," he manages to pant out against her mouth, shocked.
She just smiles and he wants to tease her, say something like "You naughty girl!" and pinch her bare arse, but then she stretches her legs, spreads them for him, and all he can do is touch. She's wetter than he expected, somehow, her dress damp beneath her, and his fingers are slippery and clumsy. She nods sharply and suddenly when he finds a certain spot, gasping, and he keeps his fingers there, stroking, trying to regain the rhythm of their kiss.
Skandar moves closer. Ben can feel him and hear his heavy breathing, but for a long moment, nothing else happens. And then that hot, sticky hand is wrapping itself around his cock again and he bucks into Skandar's fist, hissing with the relief of the touch.
"Yes," he forces out as Anna pulls away to catch her breath.
He opens his eyes briefly, sees Anna's legs splayed out awkwardly across the sheets, sees Skandar's eyes fixed on the scrunched-up fabric of her dress. Without thinking, he pushes the cloth further up, wanting to let Skandar really see, and for a split-second he worries about Anna's reaction. But then she grabs the fabric in her fist and holds it at her waist, exposing herself and pulling Ben back in, her mouth hot and needy as she presses against his hand.
Skandar is shifting, pressing against him, and Ben can feel the bulge of an erection through his trousers. Of course he's hard, he thinks, trying to be calm, but the rest of his thoughts are slightly panicked and Skandar's palm is fisting his cock faster and faster. It feels so good. Skandar's fingers are rough from guitar-playing and his hand is hot and tight, and Ben squeezes his eyes shut and throws back his head, trying not to think about it. But he doesn't succeed.
Skandar's a boy. A boy. Ben's never particularly felt the need to be specific about his sexuality but he always thought he was completely straight, but now Skandar's here getting him off -- mindblowingly well, he might add -- and the boy's hard-on is digging into his thigh, and oh, god, not only is he a boy, but he's fucking sixteen.
"Ben," Anna moans suddenly, the sound ringing out loudly through his thoughts.
He opens his eyes and catches a glimpse of her flushed face, wet lips and sweaty hair, and then he slides a finger down and in, pushing slowly inside her, watching her mouth fall open.
"How does it--" Skandar starts, then swallows, hand slowing around Ben's cock. His other hand is pressed firmly against the bulge in his jeans, Ben notices. "How does she feel?" Skandar asks urgently.
Ben thrusts his finger, once, twice, then adds a second, sliding in easily. He pushes deeper, curls them gently, his eyes fixed on her face. "Amazing," he breathes, laughing softly, a shaky exhale of air. "Do you want--"
"Can I?"
Ben looks at Anna. She nods. He copies her. Skandar reaches out, his fingers stroking along Ben's curved palm, closer and closer. When he touches her he swallows again, nervously, but he only waits a second before pressing one finger alongside Ben's. It fills her and she sighs, running her hand back through her hair. Skandar starts moving, his other hand a loose ring around Ben's cock now but it doesn't matter; Ben is preoccupied, watching.
"Is that okay?" Skandar murmurs. He's stopped slurring now, Ben realises, clearly sobered up by the situation.
"Uh huh," Anna says in small voice. "Just -- it's a bit," she says, and then stops, but Ben knows what she means. The positioning is a bit awkward, and probably not all that comfortable.
Ben takes a deep breath and pulls his hand away, and Skandar looks at him uncertainly.
"Go on," Ben encourages.
"Another finger, Skandar," Anna says, quietly, and Skandar looks at her, biting his lip, his cheeks pink.
He slides his middle finger slowly inside her, and suddenly Ben feels the grip tightening around his cock again. He groans, hips pushing up, and Skandar keeps going, thrusting with his fingers and sliding up and down with his hand. Ben grabs a fistful of bedsheets. The boy's got good coordination, he'll give him that.
Ben looks at Skandar, sees the determination on his face along with the flushed, desperate arousal. He's pressed up against him, now, rubbing his straining erection against Ben's thigh. Ben wonders for a second why Skandar doesn't just deal with it, it must be driving him crazy; but then he realises that he's kind of got his hands full.
Skandar twists his wrist, squeezing, sliding, and Ben grips the sheets even tighter. He's close. He's really, really close. A quick glance at Anna tells him she is too, moving with Skandar, rocking against his hand, her throat working against gulps and gasps. Skandar's face is suddenly buried in Ben's shoulder, lips on his neck, muffled groans as he presses his aching cock against Ben's leg.
"Jesus, Skandar," Ben breathes out. He can feel the heat of it, the hard shape rubbing against him.
Skandar's hand quickens, tugging and pulling and --
"Jesus, Skandar," Ben chokes out again as he comes, splashing over Skandar's hand and probably all over his own suit. He splutters nonsensically for a moment as the rest of his orgasm courses through him, and when he finally relaxes the first thing he notices is how sore his hand is from clutching the sheets so tightly.
And then he sees Anna.
He's never really had the chance to see her come before, but right now it's here and it's easy, watching her grind against Skandar's hand, watching his fingers thrusting into her. She has one hand at her chest, clutching her breast over her dress, and her mouth is open in a silent cry. She's still for a moment, thighs trembling, and then she heaves a long sigh and her body goes limp.
Ben expects her to be unable to move or speak, like he is, but all she has to do is shut her eyes for a moment and get her breath back, and then she seems fine.
"Skandar," she says in surprise, then, but she's looking rather south of his face.
That's when Ben realises that Skandar is still hard. Of course he's still hard, he thinks, mentally kicking himself. He didn't feel him come in his trousers, after all, but now he feels like a complete twat -- should he have helped him out?
"D'you want us to...?" he starts, unsure how to phrase the question and reluctant to end it with a crude hand gesture.
"It's -- what? No, it's fine," Skandar says hurriedly, shaking his head and laughing. "I'll -- you go to sleep, and I'll go back to my room and have a wank or something, it's fine, really."
Anna grins. "No," she says, "come on. Don't you want us to?"
Of course he does.
That's how Ben finds himself with his fingers curled around the base of Skandar's cock, coarse dark hair tickling his hand, and watching Anna go down on him.
It's really not right. For many reasons, but the one particularly occupying his mind is the fact that Anna hasn't even done this to him yet. But somehow he can't really bring himself to care that much, because he likes the way it makes Skandar shudder against the sheets and make those little noises in his throat, and because he likes the way Anna looks with her lips stretched around Skandar's cock, and with her pale eyes looking up at them both.
And it's really pretty gay to be sliding his slick fingers up along Skandar's length to meet Anna's mouth where she can't take him all in, to have his hand spread across Skandar's flat stomach where his wrinkled, half-unbuttoned shirt is rucked up. It's pretty gay to be stroking the pale, freckled skin there and rubbing Skandar's cock and whispering things he's going to be embarrassed about later, and to want to see Skandar come as badly as he does. But he can't bring himself to care about that, either.
Because Anna's tongue is stroking across the slick tip of Skandar's cock, and Ben is bringing his fist quickly up and down, and Skandar is slamming his head down against the pillow and coming. Anna moves away, leaving Skandar's trousers to be the third item of clothing to be stained tonight, and Skandar shakes, grabbing Ben's free hand and digging in his fingernails, moaning long and low.
"I guess you got everything you wanted," says Anna, smiling with her eyebrows raised.
Skandar smiles back but shakes his head, and it's only then that he heaves himself up and kisses them both, Anna first, and slowly, his hands clinging weakly to her hips. She doesn't seem to notice anything, but when Skandar leans across to Ben and cups his face with a sweaty hand before joining their lips, the evidence is overwhelming.
For someone so (supposedly) drunk, Skandar's mouth doesn't taste a thing like alcohol.
End.
Author: likecharity
Pairing: Skandar/Anna/Ben
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Real person het and slash, voyeurism.
Summary: The first time Skandar sees them kissing, they're rehearsing. After that, he seems to make a bit of a habit of it.
A/N: Idk, everything can be blamed on this picture.
The first time Skandar sees them kissing, they're rehearsing.
It's just a quick runthrough of the Susan/Caspian kiss, Andrew directing them through it before any cameras or extras get involved. It's just to get them more comfortable, though Ben's not sure that anything could make this comfortable, considering the utter, utter weirdness of it.
It's not really kissing Anna that's weird. It's kissing her in this sort of situation, with Andrew standing there saying encouraging things on the sidelines, and with the anticipation of a repeat performance (plus an audience) looming over their heads.
And so, anyway, Anna has just rushed into his arms and pressed her lips to his when Skandar appears out of nowhere, trips over a stray wire, and goes hurtling towards them.
"Ack," he says after a moment, getting to his feet shakily and brushing himself down. "Sorry. I didn't realise anyone was in here. I'll -- I'll go now. Leave you to it."
Anna splutters with laughter the second Skandar rounds the corner, and that sets Ben and Andrew off too. They can't get through the scene after that.
The first time Skandar sees them kissing, they're rehearsing.
After that, he seems to make a bit of a habit of it.
The next time Skandar sees them kissing doesn't really count. He can't really avoid it when it comes to filming the scene, so he can't be blamed for that, Ben supposes.
What he can be blamed for is messing up his line repeatedly so that they have to film the kiss over and over.
"I'm sorry," he says, grimacing as everybody returns to their marks for the sixth time. "I don't know what's wrong with me."
"Hey, I don't think they're complaining," calls an extra from the crowd. "Not exactly a bad scene to have to do over, is it?"
Everybody laughs and Ben grits his teeth. The thing is, whoever they are, they're right. It's not a bad thing to have to keep repeating, but there's still a problem: the more takes they do, the more he's starting to enjoy it. That really can't be good. The whole co-star thing is a bad idea, so he's heard, but he's sure he can feel something from Anna every time she runs up to him, her lips warm and soft against his.
"If we're going to have you in the background of this shot, Skandar," says Andrew suddenly, "you're going to have to look a little more disgusted."
Ben sighs. It's going to be a long day.
So, the time that is (for all intents and purposes) the second time that Skandar sees them kissing, it is an accident.
They manage to keep things professional during filming but there's just this unavoidable spark between them that neither of them can quite bear to ignore. They try pretty hard, actually, but then there is a premiere with too much champagne and the night sort of ends with Ben dragging Anna into the men's toilets and kissing her up against the wall.
Skandar doesn't trip over anything this time, but he does make a sort of weird sound with his throat and then goggle at them for a bit, before coming to his senses, babbling apologies and hurrying away.
The second time Skandar sees them kissing, it's an accident.
After that, though? Ben's not so sure.
Take, for example, the third time Skandar sees them kissing.
It can't really be called an accident. At all. Although Skandar tries to pass it off as one, of course.
An over-the-top expression of shock crosses his face and he sort of backs towards the door, hand over his eyes as Anna straightens out her t-shirt. (They weren't just kissing, this time, it was more like making out. At any rate, there had been hands underneath clothes.) He says he was just coming in to borrow something from Ben and he didn't realise Anna was there, so sorry, won't happen again, etc etc. Ben practically has to push him out of the room.
The thing is, though, Ben knows it's all a lie.
When Anna turned up, knocking briskly on the hotel room door, and Ben opened it to greet her, he took a quick glance up and down the corridor as she slipped inside, and he's ninety nine per cent sure he saw Skandar hanging around a little further down by a drinks machine.
They even made eye contact, he's almost certain.
He meant to walk in on them; Ben's just not sure why, exactly.
Which wouldn't be that much of a problem if that was the last time, but it isn't. The next time is much worse.
The fourth time Skandar sees them kissing, they are not just kissing. It is their first time having sex with each other, and they're interrupted by hammering on the door at 1am.
They try to ignore it but it doesn't stop, so Ben hobbles across the room with his cock still hard and a sheet lamely attempting to disguise it, and angrily flings the door open.
And of course, Skandar's standing there, with sleepy eyes and his dressing gown on inside out.
"Hello," he says, and then his eyes dart immediately down to Ben's crotch and he goes an impressive shade of pink. His brain works quickly and his eyes go behind Ben to where Anna is sitting up in bed, blanket pulled up and clutched to her chest.
Ben -- rather gallantly, he thinks -- takes a big step out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him to preserve Anna's modesty. Luckily, there doesn't seem to be anyone around at this time to be disturbed by this odd scene in the corridor.
"What the fuck are you trying to do?" he snaps, angrier than he realised, and Skandar looks slightly guilty and taken aback.
"I'm sorry, I was -- Ben, have you just locked yourself out?"
A pause.
"Shit."
He has, and because of that, he never finds out what Skandar's reason for this fourth interruption is. Anna is mad at him for some reason, and flat-out refuses to let him back in, leaving him to the painfully embarrassing experience of trying to explain the situation to a rather startled old bespectacled porter in the hotel reception.
Anna doesn't talk to him throughout the entire flight to London, which isn't very fair, in his opinion. It's not like he invited Skandar to turn up while they were mid-coitus. After trying to get her to speak for maybe the first hour or so, he gives up and attempts to swap seats with someone. No one nearby is willing, so Ben just goes for the first empty seat he sees.
And ends up next to Skandar.
"What's your deal?" Ben asks in an undertone, taking advantage of these new seating arrangements.
"I've sort of," says Skandar, then shuffles around, the tray on the seat-back in front of him banging against his knees. "I've got this," he says, then stops abruptly, pushing the tray back up and spending what feels like five minutes trying to get it to stay there.
"It's clearly broken," says Ben frustratedly.
"Hang on," is all Skandar says, brow savagely furrowed as he twists the knob pointlessly.
"No," says Ben, pushing Skandar's hand out of the way. The tray flips back down onto Skandar's knees. "What's your deal?"
Skandar frowns, looking infuriatingly confused. "With what?"
And that's when the tray breaks off from the seat-back altogether and jabs Skandar in the stomach, and a stewardess (under the impression that she's being helpful) moves Skandar to a different seat.
Ben's seat. Next to Anna.
Ben is concerned.
By some miracle, though, Anna seems to have let him out of the doghouse (despite the fact that he abandoned her on the plane) and is speaking to him by the time they're going through passport control.
"I think Skandar has a voyeurism problem," Ben informs her darkly as they head for baggage return.
She breaks into a sudden fit of laughter, almost choking on a sip from her bottle of water, and has to stop and step away from the group to calm down. Ben waits patiently, and then looks at her, expectant.
"Do you?" is all she says.
He frowns. "Why else," he says, "would he keep--"
"It's Skandar," she interrupts. "Don't expect a simple explanation."
He doesn't.
"Can we," breathes Ben, fingers sliding up Anna's thigh under her dress, "go back to the hotel now?"
He can feel her purse her lips against his neck. "Hmm."
"Please?" he adds. "You told me to ask you in half an hour, and it's been--"
Her fingers loop around his wrist suddenly, fumble for his watch. "It's been twenty eight minutes, I'd say," she says, fighting a smile.
"Anna," Ben sighs. "Anna, please."
She stops fighting the smile, lets it part her lips wide. She smoothes her hand across the sleeve of his jacket, up to his shoulder, and then she cups his face to turn it towards her own and presses a kiss to his lips. "Okay," she answers, finally.
And that's when they hear the cough.
Ben doesn't need to turn around to know who it is that's coughing, but he turns anyway. He was absolutely convinced they'd managed to find a private spot, but apparently not.
"Would it be all right," says Skandar, swaying slightly, "if I came with you?"
"You don't look very well," Anna replies immediately while Ben is still trying to penetrate the meaning of Skandar's question. "Yes, you probably should. We can get you some water and you can have a lie-down." She looks him up and down. "You're drunk, aren't you? You've gotten really drunk. That was stupid," she admonishes.
"No," disagrees Skandar, leaning against the wall for support. "I mean -- yes, I am, and I have, but no, it wasn't. I don't think it was."
"You're rambling," says Anna. "Come on."
"What are you doing?" hisses Ben to her, when they're on their way and Skandar doesn't seem to be listening. "Are you really letting him interrupt us again--"
"Oh, calm down," Anna snaps. "We'll just put him to bed and then we can -- well, put ourselves to bed."
She grins at him and he gives in, as always. Really, all it takes is a little flash of mischief behind those innocent blue eyes and he's a goner.
Damn that Anna Popplewell, he thinks vaguely as he trots obediently after her into the lift.
Somewhere along the way, this plan becomes a little muddled.
First of all, Skandar is more out of it than they thought, and can't seem to make it to his own hotel room. If Ben himself was a bit more sober, he might offer some adequate explanation for why he offers his own room instead.
But he isn't, and he can't.
But he does. Offer his own room, that is.
So that's why Skandar ends up sprawled across Ben's bed with his shoes still on, while Anna potters around in the bathroom getting him some water, and some painkillers for the headache he apparently has.
"Is it," says Ben crossly, looming over Skandar, "your mission in life," he continues, leaning over a little more in an attempt to make himself appear threatening, "to repeatedly cockblock me?"
"Nobody uses the word cockblock," Skandar tells him helpfully, laughing drunkenly to himself for a moment. Then he says, "Also, no."
"You're very good at doing it by mistake then," Ben says. "You should probably learn how to stop."
Skandar seems to consider this, but only in a half-hearted sort of way.
"Is it Anna?" asks Ben. He asks this because Anna is running the tap in the bathroom and he's pretty sure she can't hear him. "Do you fancy Anna? Because listen, mate, I had no idea, and I'm sorry that it's--"
"Yeah," Skandar interrupts. He laughs, looking kind of dazed. "I do. I think. I mean, well, not really. See, it's," he says, and then pauses for a long time before finishing it all off with, "no, yeah, I do."
"Right," says Ben. It all seems to make a bit more sense now. He thinks he can cope with this. "Well, I'm sorry. I mean, that must be really hard, and I didn't realise. But you can't keep showing up, it's not going to--"
"That's not all!" Skandar interrupts unexpectedly, hauling himself up into a sitting position. "That's not all."
Ben waits patiently, but Skandar is just looking at him and not saying anything else.
"You're on my last nerve, I'm sorry," Ben says sharply. "What else is there?"
Skandar tilts his head on one side, takes a deep breath, and --
That's when Anna comes back in, a glass of water in one hand and a packet of Ibuprofen in the other.
"I don't know why you can't learn your limits," she tuts, handing both items to Skandar, who is looking a little shaken by the timing of her entrance. "Just because no one pays attention to the fact that you're drinking doesn't mean you have to..."
She carries on, telling him off in a way that Ben finds somewhat disturbing. It's the way she's speaking, the way she's treating him. It's very sisterly, that's the thing, because while she's being caring, she's also quite annoyed with him, he thinks. Disappointed in him. She's telling him off, lecturing him, almost. He supposes that makes sense, because she is a few years older than him and she has spent a lot of time acting the big sister, so that's not really the disturbing part.
The disturbing part is that he finds it kind of sexy.
Dear god, he finds it really, really sexy.
"Drink it all," says Anna firmly as Skandar sits up and takes a reluctant sip of the water.
Ben needs to sit down, and does so, on the end of the bed. Anna says something about how she's going to keep an eye on Skandar next time, and Skandar nods resignedly, even blushing slightly, and Ben shifts uncomfortably.
This is perfectly ordinary, he tries frantically to reassure himself as he feels his trousers beginning to tighten a little. One of the things he's always found so sexy about Anna is the way she takes charge, makes sure she's in control. As much as he complains about it, he loves it when she tells him what to do, when she makes the rules, and makes sure he abides by them.
And so it's probably perfectly natural for him to be turned on watching her behave that way with somebody else.
Ordinary and natural it may be, then, but comfortable and convenient it is not.
It's getting to the point where he's going to have to hold his hands over his crotch.
He does.
They would be oblivious, maybe, if he didn't make a sort of pitiful sound and murmur, "Oh dear, oh dear."
And that's when the plan gets really, really muddled. Because there's no way any of them could have planned this.
He's pretty sure, anyway.
"Skandar, I think you should go back to your room now," says Anna, eyes shifting and darting like she doesn't know where to look.
Ben tenses his thighs, tries to to think about his grandparents and Georgie and that dream he had that one time where his dick was bitten off by a shark. Nothing works.
Skandar snorts derisively. "Are you kidding?" he says. "I'm not leaving just so the two of you can fuck."
"Skandar."
"I'm not!"
Anna frowns at him, a crinkle in her forehead and her mouth a hard line. It's probably the most riled-up Ben's ever seen her. He knows she really must be angry or upset or confused or something because usually she picks her words pretty carefully and right now she's saying,
"What are you going to do then? Stay and watch?"
Something catches in Ben's throat and he really wants to cough, but the silence is too tense and he feels it would be dangerous to break it. He's staring at his feet, his shiny black shoes, and he doesn't need to look up to know what Skandar's answer is because it doesn't come in the form of words. It's the non-response, the lack of denial, the just-fucking-sitting-there that tells them all they need to know.
"Skandar," says Anna quietly. "You don't really mean--"
Skandar gives a sort of apologetic one-shouldered shrug. "In my defence," he says, "I am very, very drunk."
And so, the fifth time Skandar sees them kissing, it is very much on purpose.
Ben says, "Oh, I don't know about this," but the insistent, inexplicable throbbing in his trousers disagrees with him.
Anna looks at him and her eyes seem to say, shh, give him what he wants and maybe he'll leave us alone. And maybe it's really as simple as that, maybe Skandar's just got some weird fascination with the idea. After all he's only a kid, sixteen years old, probably not all that experienced. Maybe he's just curious. Maybe he's decided that if he can't have Anna he's still got to see what it's like to have her.
Ben doesn't know.
All he knows is that he feels very scrutinised, Skandar's eyes on him as Anna comes closer to him on the bed and tilts his head towards hers.
"This is stupid," says Ben, eyes fixed on Skandar just as intently. "Haven't you seen this enough?"
"No," says Skandar firmly, challengingly, and Ben's still looking at him for a moment when Anna's lips meet his, their eyes locked.
And then his eyelids fall shut and Anna's tongue slides between his lips and he thinks that's going a little too far, but they didn't exactly set out any rules for this and he has the feeling Skandar's not going to be satisfied with a peck on the lips, so he obliges, and it's all soft warmth and sweet breath like Anna's kisses always are. He can almost forget Skandar's presence, Skandar's quiet, watching presence on the corner of the bed.
Almost. He can feel it, and hear Skandar's breathing, and he wants it to be putting him off, he really does, but it just isn't.
Not that it isn't having any effect, because oh god, it definitely is, it's making his cock so hard he feels lightheaded and it's making him want to say "You want a show, Skandar? We'll give you a show," and fucking throw Anna down and let Skandar see what it's really like to have her.
He's straining against his trousers. Literally straining -- lifting his hips and squirming and trying to get some kind of friction against his cock because if he doesn't, he thinks he's going to explode. He knows Skandar must be able to tell what he's doing but he can't bring himself to care. Anna's hand brushes his thigh suddenly and he tenses, breaking away from her.
"Anna," he says pathetically, pleadingly, and she knows what he means, knows what he needs but she just looks at him.
"We can't--" she says, and then stops, and the sentence finishes itself in Ben's head, do this with him watching, and he shuts his eyes and sighs because he knows, but it's clear that Skandar's made himself comfortable and isn't leaving any time soon.
He wishes this were some kind of porno so he could say things like "Do you want to see more?" and not feel like a complete twat about it, but it isn't and he most definitely would, so he just looks at Skandar and says, "Look, mate, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to leave so that we can take care of this."
By 'this' he means his erection, but doesn't want to draw any more attention to it by gesturing or something, so he just hopes Skandar catches his drift.
He does. "But I want to stay, though."
"But you can't," says Ben.
"Why?"
"Because."
"Because what?"
"Because isn't that really fucking weird," Ben says helplessly, hopefully saying what they're all thinking. He drags a hand back through sweaty hair and wonders how in the hell he's managed to get himself into a situation like this one.
"I'll be practically invisible, you won't even know I'm here," Skandar promises.
Ben knows he's lying, and that it's not the first lie he's told since this whole thing started. And even with that knowledge, that knowledge that should stop him going any further, he still nods, a passive sort of acceptance, and turns to Anna to see if she's got anything to add.
All he knows is that he needs somebody to touch him, and if Skandar's not going to leave then the only other option is for him to stay.
Anna exhales suddenly -- clearly she's been holding her breath -- and kisses Ben again, suddenly and passionately, fingers threading through his hair. The intensity of it catches him off guard and he grapples at her back, and he hears Skandar echo her breath in reverse, sucking air sharply inwards. Skandar's got to be insane, Ben thinks frantically, as Anna's hand brushes over his crotch and his hips jerk up into the touch. He has got to be insane. Why would anyone in their right mind want to watch someone they fancy make out with somebody else? It's messed up, it's really messed up, but it's also happening, so he just keeps his eyes squeezed shut and presses against Anna's palm and pretends they're alone.
A small part of him is hoping Skandar really has drunk as much as he claims, and is going to throw up all over the carpet or something and interrupt this. Unfortunately, it is a very small part of him. Every single other part wants Anna to unzip his trousers.
And that is what she's currently doing.
"Ben," she says in a small voice into his ear, her breath hot and prickly against his skin.
"Yeah, I know," he breathes, and he opens his eyes and keeps them focused down, trying to ignore Skandar. (It has the added bonus of giving him a pretty good view down Anna's dress.)
Her hand is reaching inside his trousers now, fumbling with the button on his boxers. He can feel his face going hot and if he's blushing then he's going to have even more problems with this state of affairs than he thought he did. When Anna's hand pulls his cock through the slit in the fabric he sighs with relief, but then out of the corner of his eye he sees Skandar shuffling, and his heart quickens its pace. He's trying to see. He supposes he should've expected that. He shouldn't have thought Anna would have been able to get him off with a quick handjob, the actual event obscured by his clothes and her body. Once one is in a situation like this, one cannot really do things by halves.
That's probably why Anna shifts aside, bringing his cock into full view, her hand clasped tightly around the base and frustratingly still.
Ben swallows. He doesn't have to look up to know that Skandar's staring. Staring seems to be all Skandar does lately. Which, in hindsight, was fine, actually, when he was just staring at them kissing, or staring disturbingly intently at all the scenes in the film involving Susan and Caspian, or deliberately dropping crisps to stoop down and stare at their feet touching under the table. But this is not any of those things. This is Skandar staring at his cock, his hard, aching cock in Anna's hand, and that crosses so many lines that it should be a geometry question or something.
He can't help wondering what Skandar's thinking. Is he looking because he wants to know if Ben is bigger than him? What if Ben isn't bigger than him? Ben groans out loud, partly because now is really not the time to be feeling any sort of penile inadequacy, and partly because Anna does something interesting with her wrist and then starts sliding her hand up and down and fuck, Skandar is still watching.
Of course Skandar is still watching. Ben can't help but wonder how, exactly, he went -- in one night -- from innocently kissing his girlfriend at Disneyland to getting wanked off in front of a sixteen year old boy. He's defiling young minds. He's never done anything more wrong than this.
Which would probably be okay if he was satisfied with his guilt levels, but he is not. They really should be higher.
His rational thought is rapidly disappearing, though. He's watching, sort of mesmerised, as Anna's fist glides up and down his cock, slick with precome. It feels better than it ever has. It's making his brain short-circuit. He clings pathetically to her waist, his hips jerking, moving in rhythm with each slide of her hand. His face is red, now, he knows, but he can't even bring himself to care. The relief of it is just so good -- her cool, tight hand, curled around him, bringing him closer and closer.
Skandar shifts again, and Ben's eyes dart up before he can stop them. Their eyes meet. Skandar's don't jerk away, so Ben follows suit, staring at him. He's not going to back down if Skandar isn't. Anna's fist moves faster and he bites down on his bottom lip, trying to keep himself from moaning. His breathing is heavy and hot against her bare shoulder and Skandar is watching with a burning intensity that makes him simultaneously uncomfortable and turned on.
Skandar is moving. "You want a closer look?" Ben's brain supplies lamely in its best pornstar voice, as Skandar rumples the sheets underneath him and shuffles nearer.
"Am I," Skandar mumbles, his words slightly slurred once again, "am I -- allowed to -- I mean, can I touch?"
Ben's body jolts involuntarily, and he hears himself say, "I think you're the one making up the rules here, mate."
Skandar is trembling madly as he reaches out. Anna's hand stops moving but doesn't leave, and Ben watches, frozen to the spot, as Skandar's hand closes around it. It's just curiosity, Ben tells himself firmly. That's all it is. Skandar's young and curious. He just wants to try it, experiment. And that's fine. That's fine, Ben's brain insists. He's helping Skandar out. It's what any good friend would do.
"Have you done this before?" Anna asks, her voice surprisingly calm. "On -- someone other than yourself, I mean."
Skandar hesitates. "No," he says eventually, slowly.
Ben cannot imagine why he would be the first guy Skandar would want to do this to, but there's not much that he can imagine at the moment, as Anna twists and slides her hand again, Skandar's curved over it. She guides, shows him, going slowly at first and then faster, until Ben is feeling a tightening, a clenching, a twisting in his spine.
"Do you want me to let go?" Anna asks quietly.
"What -- no," Ben chokes out, fingers digging into her hip, and Anna chuckles softly.
"I was talking to Skandar," she says, and all Ben has time to think is fuck before Anna's hand slips away and is replaced by Skandar's.
Skandar's hand is larger, rougher, holding him tighter. It strokes, rubs, and there's a quick slide of a callused thumb over the tip of his cock that makes him moan out loud, and then, just as quickly, it's all gone.
"Skandar, fuck," he rasps, coughing, wrapping his own hand around himself in desperation. "Don't do that, I was--"
"I want," says Skandar, fidgeting, uncertain, "I want to see," he stops abruptly and makes a noise of frustration. "I just don't want this to be it," he says eventually, avoiding their eyes.
"You are so drunk," says Anna, worry creeping back into her voice again.
"Anna," says Skandar. He looks up at her, his eyes big and dark and pleading.
Anna looks down at the bed, and then back at him. "What do you want, Skandar?"
"I want..." Skandar murmurs, "I want you to kiss him again."
"I don't think that's all you want, mate," Ben starts to say, but Anna cuts him off with her lips.
And this time, he's not sure either of them are in control. It's her sliding her tongue past his lips and threading fingers through his hair, but he can't help but feel that Skandar's the one in charge now. He feels hot, slender fingers brush his wrist, his watch-strap, and then a sticky hand guiding him to reach under the rumpled skirt of Anna's dress. He wants to say we've done this before, we don't need you to show us how, but then he unexpectedly feels soft, damp hair and hot slick skin, and his vocal chords seem to seize up.
"Anna," he manages to pant out against her mouth, shocked.
She just smiles and he wants to tease her, say something like "You naughty girl!" and pinch her bare arse, but then she stretches her legs, spreads them for him, and all he can do is touch. She's wetter than he expected, somehow, her dress damp beneath her, and his fingers are slippery and clumsy. She nods sharply and suddenly when he finds a certain spot, gasping, and he keeps his fingers there, stroking, trying to regain the rhythm of their kiss.
Skandar moves closer. Ben can feel him and hear his heavy breathing, but for a long moment, nothing else happens. And then that hot, sticky hand is wrapping itself around his cock again and he bucks into Skandar's fist, hissing with the relief of the touch.
"Yes," he forces out as Anna pulls away to catch her breath.
He opens his eyes briefly, sees Anna's legs splayed out awkwardly across the sheets, sees Skandar's eyes fixed on the scrunched-up fabric of her dress. Without thinking, he pushes the cloth further up, wanting to let Skandar really see, and for a split-second he worries about Anna's reaction. But then she grabs the fabric in her fist and holds it at her waist, exposing herself and pulling Ben back in, her mouth hot and needy as she presses against his hand.
Skandar is shifting, pressing against him, and Ben can feel the bulge of an erection through his trousers. Of course he's hard, he thinks, trying to be calm, but the rest of his thoughts are slightly panicked and Skandar's palm is fisting his cock faster and faster. It feels so good. Skandar's fingers are rough from guitar-playing and his hand is hot and tight, and Ben squeezes his eyes shut and throws back his head, trying not to think about it. But he doesn't succeed.
Skandar's a boy. A boy. Ben's never particularly felt the need to be specific about his sexuality but he always thought he was completely straight, but now Skandar's here getting him off -- mindblowingly well, he might add -- and the boy's hard-on is digging into his thigh, and oh, god, not only is he a boy, but he's fucking sixteen.
"Ben," Anna moans suddenly, the sound ringing out loudly through his thoughts.
He opens his eyes and catches a glimpse of her flushed face, wet lips and sweaty hair, and then he slides a finger down and in, pushing slowly inside her, watching her mouth fall open.
"How does it--" Skandar starts, then swallows, hand slowing around Ben's cock. His other hand is pressed firmly against the bulge in his jeans, Ben notices. "How does she feel?" Skandar asks urgently.
Ben thrusts his finger, once, twice, then adds a second, sliding in easily. He pushes deeper, curls them gently, his eyes fixed on her face. "Amazing," he breathes, laughing softly, a shaky exhale of air. "Do you want--"
"Can I?"
Ben looks at Anna. She nods. He copies her. Skandar reaches out, his fingers stroking along Ben's curved palm, closer and closer. When he touches her he swallows again, nervously, but he only waits a second before pressing one finger alongside Ben's. It fills her and she sighs, running her hand back through her hair. Skandar starts moving, his other hand a loose ring around Ben's cock now but it doesn't matter; Ben is preoccupied, watching.
"Is that okay?" Skandar murmurs. He's stopped slurring now, Ben realises, clearly sobered up by the situation.
"Uh huh," Anna says in small voice. "Just -- it's a bit," she says, and then stops, but Ben knows what she means. The positioning is a bit awkward, and probably not all that comfortable.
Ben takes a deep breath and pulls his hand away, and Skandar looks at him uncertainly.
"Go on," Ben encourages.
"Another finger, Skandar," Anna says, quietly, and Skandar looks at her, biting his lip, his cheeks pink.
He slides his middle finger slowly inside her, and suddenly Ben feels the grip tightening around his cock again. He groans, hips pushing up, and Skandar keeps going, thrusting with his fingers and sliding up and down with his hand. Ben grabs a fistful of bedsheets. The boy's got good coordination, he'll give him that.
Ben looks at Skandar, sees the determination on his face along with the flushed, desperate arousal. He's pressed up against him, now, rubbing his straining erection against Ben's thigh. Ben wonders for a second why Skandar doesn't just deal with it, it must be driving him crazy; but then he realises that he's kind of got his hands full.
Skandar twists his wrist, squeezing, sliding, and Ben grips the sheets even tighter. He's close. He's really, really close. A quick glance at Anna tells him she is too, moving with Skandar, rocking against his hand, her throat working against gulps and gasps. Skandar's face is suddenly buried in Ben's shoulder, lips on his neck, muffled groans as he presses his aching cock against Ben's leg.
"Jesus, Skandar," Ben breathes out. He can feel the heat of it, the hard shape rubbing against him.
Skandar's hand quickens, tugging and pulling and --
"Jesus, Skandar," Ben chokes out again as he comes, splashing over Skandar's hand and probably all over his own suit. He splutters nonsensically for a moment as the rest of his orgasm courses through him, and when he finally relaxes the first thing he notices is how sore his hand is from clutching the sheets so tightly.
And then he sees Anna.
He's never really had the chance to see her come before, but right now it's here and it's easy, watching her grind against Skandar's hand, watching his fingers thrusting into her. She has one hand at her chest, clutching her breast over her dress, and her mouth is open in a silent cry. She's still for a moment, thighs trembling, and then she heaves a long sigh and her body goes limp.
Ben expects her to be unable to move or speak, like he is, but all she has to do is shut her eyes for a moment and get her breath back, and then she seems fine.
"Skandar," she says in surprise, then, but she's looking rather south of his face.
That's when Ben realises that Skandar is still hard. Of course he's still hard, he thinks, mentally kicking himself. He didn't feel him come in his trousers, after all, but now he feels like a complete twat -- should he have helped him out?
"D'you want us to...?" he starts, unsure how to phrase the question and reluctant to end it with a crude hand gesture.
"It's -- what? No, it's fine," Skandar says hurriedly, shaking his head and laughing. "I'll -- you go to sleep, and I'll go back to my room and have a wank or something, it's fine, really."
Anna grins. "No," she says, "come on. Don't you want us to?"
Of course he does.
That's how Ben finds himself with his fingers curled around the base of Skandar's cock, coarse dark hair tickling his hand, and watching Anna go down on him.
It's really not right. For many reasons, but the one particularly occupying his mind is the fact that Anna hasn't even done this to him yet. But somehow he can't really bring himself to care that much, because he likes the way it makes Skandar shudder against the sheets and make those little noises in his throat, and because he likes the way Anna looks with her lips stretched around Skandar's cock, and with her pale eyes looking up at them both.
And it's really pretty gay to be sliding his slick fingers up along Skandar's length to meet Anna's mouth where she can't take him all in, to have his hand spread across Skandar's flat stomach where his wrinkled, half-unbuttoned shirt is rucked up. It's pretty gay to be stroking the pale, freckled skin there and rubbing Skandar's cock and whispering things he's going to be embarrassed about later, and to want to see Skandar come as badly as he does. But he can't bring himself to care about that, either.
Because Anna's tongue is stroking across the slick tip of Skandar's cock, and Ben is bringing his fist quickly up and down, and Skandar is slamming his head down against the pillow and coming. Anna moves away, leaving Skandar's trousers to be the third item of clothing to be stained tonight, and Skandar shakes, grabbing Ben's free hand and digging in his fingernails, moaning long and low.
"I guess you got everything you wanted," says Anna, smiling with her eyebrows raised.
Skandar smiles back but shakes his head, and it's only then that he heaves himself up and kisses them both, Anna first, and slowly, his hands clinging weakly to her hips. She doesn't seem to notice anything, but when Skandar leans across to Ben and cups his face with a sweaty hand before joining their lips, the evidence is overwhelming.
For someone so (supposedly) drunk, Skandar's mouth doesn't taste a thing like alcohol.
End.