She brings up the subject over breakfast one morning.
“Just as a one-time thing, of course,” Victoria clarifies.
“Of course,” David splutters, for a small amount of tea had escaped his mouth when he’d started to choke mid-swallow. “You enjoy asking me these things, don’t you?” he continues shrewdly. “You enjoy bringing up these sorts of things when I’m eating or tired or in public and am hence unable to defend myself.”
Victoria smiles back at him. “So, will you consider it?”
“Yes. I suppose. Has the weekly round of one-on-one missionary not been doing it for you?”
“No, no. That’s great,” she replies, and to David’s pleasure and relief a spark of something briefly lights up her eyes. “But, occasionally, you’ve got to think outside the box.”
“Why?” he protests. “I like the box.”
“Don’t make this like your bloody peer-pressured teenage interrailing,” she sighs. “I only want to do it if you also want to do it. Or at least involve yourself to a greater degree than grudging acquiescence. Grudging acquiescence isn’t nearly as sexy.”
“I will think about it,” he assures her, now contritely wiping tea off her kitchen table with a paper towel.
“Excellent. Got to get to Canongate. See you tonight.”
“Have a good day,” David says, seizing the chance to kiss her as soon she has reached for her handbag, before she can put on her coat. It’s a quick, soft measure of her lips: a hurried morning goodbye kiss. She smells of scented soap and the first crafty cigarette of the day, and there’s a bit of sleep in the corner of her left eye.
The thought only occurs to him just as she’s about to dash out the door.
“There’s surely no way Charlie would agree to it? Would he?”
Victoria grins. “Oh, don’t worry about that. He already has.”
Today feels disconcerting. When had Victoria asked him? Had David inadvertently worked with Charlie for the whole of last week’s show with him knowing his girlfriend had invited him for a threesome? An actual threesome?
Charlie had probably laughed his arse off.
But then again, he had agreed. He had agreed. It had transpired Charlie found Victoria so attractive that he was willing to put up with David’s presence during proceedings in exchange for having her for half an hour. Protocol probably dictated that David should punch Charlie at this point, but David didn’t want to punch Charlie. For a start, he doubted he was physically capable of punching Charlie with any notable force. And, obviously, he agreed with Charlie that Victoria was very attractive. You don’t punch people that agree with you.
Besides, seeing as Victoria had asked Charlie, it was likely probable protocol had already all gone to shit.
Upon arrival at the studio, David manages to greet Charlie in an entirely normal fashion and, for a few hours, amidst all the writing and rehearsing and make-up and broadcasting – for which they’re for the most part doing wholly separate bits – he manages to throw himself into the job at hand and forget about all about it.
“So. This threesome,” Charlie says to him in the green room at five past eleven, just loud enough to also be within Lauren and Jimmy’s earshot.
“In here!” David mutters, opening the door to an empty corridor that leads to their dressing rooms.
“Could be fun,” Charlie says.
“Yes.” David finds his mouth saying in a suspiciously higher-pitched voice than usual. “I think so. Is it really fine with your- ?”
“Yes, it’s fine. One-time thing, innit.”
“Great,” David then says. “So there are no problems whatsoever.”
“Are you sure you’re fine with this?” Charlie regards him curiously.
“Yeah,” David says, with genuinely-felt conviction. “She wants this. It’s a one-time thing.”
“And admit it,” Charlie says, leaning closer to mutter right in David’s ear, “You’re a little curious.”
Charlie has made a joke – it’s what he does for a living – and so David laughs. And feels as nervous as when on live TV, like they’re all back at the round table.
Except Charlie’s got a shy-devious smirk on his face that David’s never seen before and looking at him like...damnit, Charlie was making a joke, David’s not curious at all.
They arrange for Charlie to meet them at Victoria’s flat. He arrives dutifully prompt.
Victoria doesn’t offer him tea. “Beer, please,” Charlie says in response to her list of choices, and David joins him in thinking that, in this instance, alcohol probably is the answer.
Victoria returns with two beers and a half bottle of pinot grigio that she doesn’t bother to pour into a glass before drinking.
“That’s terribly unlady-like,” Charlie snorts, as she uncorks then swigs.
“As is fucking two men at the same time, so I hear.”
Charlie laughs, sarcastically apologises for his dickishness; David takes another hurried sip of beer. Alcohol definitely is the answer, he thinks. Must remember to stop before the room starts spinning.
After fetching more beer and chatting for a while – so, honestly, it’s nothing but an incongruous friendly get-together amongst Victoria’s haphazardly-arranged sofa cushions and ostentatious Bang & Olufsen sound system (“they were an ad partner with Pokerstars one year”) – Charlie goes for a piss and Victoria disappears to her bedroom, presumably to clear her bed of the to-be-ironed clothes that usually collapsed themselves across it, and so David is left alone to tipsily imagine what it would be like.
Quite good, probably. Sex is definitely sexier when he isn’t directly involved. When he isn’t the focus. (Victoria could discreetly suck him off afterwards.) He pictures himself watching Charlie fuck Victoria on her hands and knees. Best left to Charlie. Charlie was probably better than him at that sort of thing.
Perhaps he could pick up some tips.
“So. How are we going to do this?” David’s asking them ten minutes later when they’ve all shuffled into Victoria’s bedroom, hoping at least one person present will know the answer.
(Sure enough, there’s an untidy pile of her clothes freshly heaped up in one corner, and David realises with a jolt of comprehension it’s been years since he’s known those kinds of small, endearing details about somebody. He can’t fuck this up.)
“You two should probably kiss first,” Charlie says quietly, sounding acutely aware he probably wasn’t supposed to be calling the shots. “That’d be the easiest thing.”
“Right,” Victoria says, looking a little paler than usual.
Determined to tamp down his nerves and see this through, and slightly drunk, David strides forward, cups Victoria’s face in his hands, and leans in.
It’s a good kiss: she can still make him, storybook-like, weak at the knees. Yet the whole way through he can feel Charlie’s gaze sear into him even when his eyes are closed and his mouth and hands are otherwise occupied, and it makes him feel intensely self-conscious. There isn’t usually someone watching him, critiquing.
They break apart, and David finds comfort in the way her cheeks are flushed, the way her eyes linger closed for a few moments longer than his.
In front of them, Charlie stands alone, mouth slightly open, thumb twisting itself into the seam of his jeans.
“Oh, Charlie,” Victoria says, almost sounding sorry, and with only the tiniest of hesitations pulls him down to sit on the edge of the bed and kisses him.
David hasn’t ever seen Victoria kiss anyone before. Whenever David kisses her, he can count every eyelash, note the sleep in the corner of her left eye. Or he can close his eyes and feel. He can’t close his eyes now. He has to see the way Victoria tilts her head, and the way she takes in tiny breaths between kisses, and the way her body angles against Charlie’s.
Victoria’s hands reach to Charlie’s hair, drawing him in closer, and she starts sucking on Charlie’s tongue. “Christ”, David swears he hears Charlie groan just as he feels arousal pool in his groin and beat hard at the sight of her doing that.
These are Victoria’s best moves. David recognises them. You don’t need to seduce him, David wants to tap her on the shoulder and whisper in her ear. He wants you already.
What if they’re for your benefit? she asks him in his mind’s eye, standing in imagined unapologetically scanty underwear. What if I’m giving you the sight you want to see?
What if they’re not? he would say. I’ve seen the way you look at him.
I could say the same to you, she says. Then David backtracks. She wouldn’t say that. How could she know?
And yet I’m with you, she would say instead. There’s a difference between a one-night stand and picking out china patterns...
But it is a rare occasion where what’s actually happening beats his imagination hands down, and so David leaves his thoughts behind. In reality, Victoria isn’t talking much at all. In reality, Charlie has taken his and Victoria’s new closeness as tacit permission and has gently pressed her against the mattress. All David can see of Victoria now is the leg that she’s hooked around Charlie’s, and it’s enticing (bare; her knee-length dress hitched up to mid-thigh) but hardly enough for her fervent audience.
Profusely, David clears his throat.
To his mild irritation, they both burst out laughing.
“Hey, Victoria,” Charlie says. “Wasn’t this supposed to be...”
“...some kind of threesome?” she finishes, giggling, and Charlie shifts so that David can see the grin on her face. “I don’t remember us agreeing to that.” she continues, looking straight to David, her pupils blown. She’s teasing him, and they’re not touching, and David feels a growing need for friction, a need to have her beneath him.
Charlie twists his body to look up at David standing there, his hands now on Victoria’s breasts and his eyes lust-darkened, and David feels his lips part as he sees them like that, feels breath rush through his mouth and lungs; in, out, in, out.
“Planning on joining the party, Mitchell?”
Wordlessly, he steps forward and sits at where the pillows are propped up against the headboard, to the side of Victoria and Charlie. Victoria tilts her head up to his and gives him a kiss (quick, soft measure of her lips; the morning when this all began rushes back to him, though this one does not feel like a goodbye kiss at all). Then Charlie pulls her back to him, his mouth on her neck and she lying down once more, leaving David only her hand on his thigh, sliding up his trouser-leg. Incrementally, David feels his legs spread wider, willing her on.
From his seated position, he can see Charlie push up the skirt of her dress as well as hear the rustle of fabric, and just as the heel of Victoria’s hand begins to mercifully press, feather-light, across his erection, her longed-for touch is lost for the sake of her moan; she has been distracted by Charlie, who is tenderly stroking her cunt through her underwear.
David thinks that, overall, he prefers it when he’s got Victoria’s mostly undivided attention; he’s getting impatient as fuck, but there is something to be said for watching the way Charlie’s pushing her underwear to her ankles and then to the floor, his eyes half-lidded, and his other hand – yes, his other hand pushing her dress up so that David can see them properly.
It was just a joke. They haven’t forgotten about him at all.
She keeps reaching up, at one point beginning to undo David’s flies, but Charlie always succeeds in diverting her. And David knows he could just reach in and sort himself out, but there’s something going on that makes him want to sit back and take direction, make this last. Let it all happen.
So he is left, albeit breathtakingly aroused, to watch it all: Charlie breathing hot against her clit and licking, gently sucking, in stripes across her cunt; Victoria’s eyelids fluttering, the bed moving, her legs spreading and beginning to shake. As her warm, breathy cries rise to their crescendo, Charlie’s hand holding up her dress slips away and so David no longer sees it all. When she comes, he is left only with the curling of her toes and the further rise in colour of her cheeks. He catches Charlie afterwards, between her legs, smirking against the top of her thigh in enraptured victory.
Reaching forward, David’s fingers get stuck in the tangled-together ends of her long hair.
“David, David...” Victoria murmurs, and scrambles up to him, taking his mouth with her own. She unbuttons his shirt, helping him to shrug it off his shoulders, and pushes away his trousers and boxer shorts. Smiling as he breathes hard, she swiftly holds his hips down with her hands and takes the first few inches of him in her mouth. Upon feeling her lips around his cock at last, sucking hard, David would have thrust upwards if it had not been for Victoria’s firm grip and, self-conscious as he is of Charlie there, David can’t hold back the way he moans, the way his head falls against the headboard of the bed, his neck stretched back and exposed.
Charlie’s behind them, relegated to leaning up against the wall, applying pressure to his arousal through his jeans.
David looks down at Victoria. She looks utterly dishevelled: dress pushed up and hair mussed by the pillows, marks on her neck from Charlie’s attentions, lips shining and parted from David’s cock.
“Victoria-” he says, sounding choked. “This is meant to be about you-”
“That’s OK,” she replies, sitting up. “You’ve been back here, all this time...”
“And if you su- If you suck me off now,” David shakily continues, and Charlie’s watching watching watching. “I’ll come. And I think it would be better if this lasts.”
So David flips her onto her back again (and she giggles again, self-conscious), and shuffles back until he is in Charlie’s place, before. Even when quickly taking off his socks and pushed-down trousers and boxers, it’s very difficult to ignore his cock, a heavy and insistent weight hanging between his thighs. He has surprised even himself with his own self-control.
“Charlie,” David, in between kisses to Victoria’s legs. “Take off her dress.”
Charlie does so, walking straight past David to unzip the side fastening from underarm to arse. He gathers the material and pulls the whole thing off over her head. Victoria goes to unhook her bra herself, but with one large hand on her shoulder Charlie gently tilts up her torso, his other hand deftly undoing the fastening. David finds his attentions slightly diverted as at last her breasts are on show, and the curves of her stomach and waist.
David fills her cunt with his tongue, experiencing a further throb of his arousal as he senses how wet she is from the orgasm Charlie has already given her. Above him, she is moaning into Charlie’s mouth because of him. Because of both of them. Charlie is winding his tongue around her nipples, his hands roaming freely across her breasts, and lower.
There is one moment, as Victoria is getting close, when David and Charlie’s hands unintentionally meet in the middle, both spread out against her skin. David jerks suddenly away, as if Charlie has transmitted an electric shock, and he feels his head begin to spin.
Charlie must be in the same state he is, David suddenly realises. It has been all about her. Charlie must be so turned on it’s difficult for him to think. Charlie still has his clothes on; Charlie’s cock must be hard as hell and still in his jeans.
David slides one of his fingers into Victoria – another wave of arousal dashing through him as he imagines his cock in its place – and flicks his tongue over her clit until she comes, her waves and aftershocks sparking under his tongue.
“Please let me fuck you,” David says in a rush.
“I want both of you,” says Victoria. “But I think Charlie first.”
So she goes over to him, and David lets her. After taking off Charlie’s t-shirt, Victoria soon has him up against the wall.
Most of what David he can see is Victoria’s naked back, naked behind, naked legs. But he can tell what she’s doing to him: undoing Charlie’s jeans, pushing them down just enough, one of his arms lifting up one of her legs like they’re in an alleyway and unable to wait.
Can I? Charlie mouths over her shoulder.
Yeah, David mouths back, stunned. Sure.
It is easy to discern the moment he enters her. Victoria gasps as she rocks, and Charlie’s eyes are all fire.
Get over here, Charlie mouths to David as he fucks her. Eager and entranced, David follows orders and moves off the bed to join them, pressing against the back of Victoria’s body and helping to hold her up. His cock, still heavy, rubs against the cleft of her arse whenever she moves forward, back.
He listens to the wonderful sounds she makes, kisses her neck and her jaw, and doesn’t trust himself to look down. There’s no way he can avoid feeling the evidence of every thrust: Charlie playing his part. Charlie, David deduces, isn’t likely to last long. He is soon proved right. At Charlie’s groan of release, he feels Victoria’s body fall back into his.
Upon opening his eyes post-orgasm, Charlie’s gaze returns to David. Charlie isn’t here for him, David reminds himself. Charlie is here for Victoria.
David carefully turns Victoria around so that she is facing him instead. He cannot wait much longer, so he pushes her onto the bed without preamble. Behind them, Charlie follows them down, stepping out of his jeans.
David says “fuck me,” but he wants it too much to feel embarrassed about those words coming from his mouth, in his voice. Victoria turns him onto his back, sits astride him, and pushes down.
She feels so wet, so ready. Charlie has just fucked her, David remembers amidst all the sensation, and he can feel it. She’s wet from coming twice and Charlie’s release still inside her, and it’s all closed tight around his dick. It’s an amazing feeling, and he has to make himself think of other things for a moment, to avoid it all ending embarrassingly quickly.
Knelt beside her as he is, Charlie only has to turn her head to kiss Victoria whilst she’s fucking David. David watches, the way their tongues tangle together and the way Victoria is pulled away from him and back to Charlie, again; breaking away from their kiss, Charlie whispers something in her ear.
And then Charlie moves her hand down to him and it means, as she starts to stroke him so he can get fully hard again and Charlie lavishes attention upon one of her bare shoulders, it means she forgets to carry on moving. Stock still with David still inside her, David has to breathe hard to stop himself falling over the edge.
He hasn’t come once, he wants to point out to them petulantly. Victoria has come twice and Charlie has already come once and he hasn’t come at all.
He moves away, allowing Victoria to sit in front of Charlie and bring him off, because it’s all about her. With her free hand, she grips David’s wrists together behind his back, and she gives David a quick evil-genius grin.
Not otherwise occupied, David finally allows himself to look to what Victoria has made a ring with her thumb and finger around. His gaze slides down the line of hair that begins at Charlie’s navel. Not bigger than him, it transpires, though there’s not much in it. He’s not going to ask if they can put them together and compare, one of Charlie’s hands wrapping around the both of them and...
“Kiss him,” Victoria murmurs in David’s ear.
“I don’t know, I don’t-” Kissing probably wasn’t the answer to getting the thought of doing so out of his system, even if parts of David’s body that weren’t his brain were doing a stellar job of trying to convince him otherwise.
“I’d like it if you did.”
“I-” and then Charlie is looking at him and David momentarily forgets all of the arguments against.
As his kisses Charlie (deep and warm and the beginnings of stubble; David would touch himself if Victoria didn’t still have his hands pinned together, and he starts thrusting into air, and that’s not going to escape Victoria’s notice) Victoria starts to move her hand faster and so David feels Charlie’s lips stutter over his as Charlie comes again, feels his heavy breath, and David has let Charlie get too close and David really needs to come right this second.
“I could suck you off, if you wanted,” Charlie blurts out. “I wouldn’t mind.”
As if it’s that easy.
“This was just...this was only for Victoria,” David says to him, straight-faced and with effort-induced tension in his shoulders. It’s difficult to find the words. David then pleads to her, and (thankfully, unthankfully) it is her lips around him again instead.
And by now there’s no tricks employed to last, there’s no finesse; it takes mere seconds for him to come deep down her throat, his fingers skittish against the bedsheets.
“What was he like?”
Victoria laughs, slides an arm around David’s waist. “Don’t worry. I’m not looking to trade you in any time soon.”
“That’s, um, not what I meant,” David says, so quietly he wonders whether Victoria can hear him. “Can you tell me?”
“OK,” Victoria says, and recalls in a satisfied litany of low voiced words about what it was like to be fucked by Charlie Brooker, lying close enough to David that she must be able to feel the way he’s growing hard against her thigh. On and on she goes until David’s not sure he can leave himself alone for much longer.
And so, when Victoria at last reaches down and elicits a gasp from the relieving of new tension, David doesn’t stop her.
Her words of Charlie’s actions were making his heart beat fast enough; now under her touch as well he’s there too soon, coming over Victoria’s hand as Victoria’s telling him about Charlie’s hands on her, his cock inside her, the wetness across her inner thighs.
“I love you,” he says afterwards, and means it.
“You could have had him too, if you’d wanted,” Victoria tells him.
One-time thing. One-time thing, not the start of something new.
“Thank you,” David replies, because she has understood and misunderstood; she has seen him want, but not considered how one-night stands can one day lead to wanting to pick out china patterns. Thank you, David replies, because he can’t admit to anything else.