Chapter Text
Lukey
Lukey’s just started pushing in when his phone starts buzzing.
His groan of pleasure turns into one of annoyance as he sees the name on the screen - of course it’s Pangi, again.
It’s the third time now that he calls while Lukey’s with this guy. Which makes it three out of five.
The guy is cute, and a decent shag but that’s about it. The one reason they’ve made it to five is probably that each encounter has involved minimal conversation - the most they’ve talked was the night they met, in one of Brighton’s many bars and Lukey had concluded that they had so little in common that it would likely never go further than casual sex, which is exactly what he needs.
It’s been good for relieving pressure - which he’s under a fair amount of right now, with the deadline for his dissertation fast approaching - and good for momentarily forgetting the one person he’d rather be fucking instead.
Which is starting to prove difficult to achieve when said person seems determined to blow up his phone while he’s trying to think about anything else but him.
“Fuck - hold on…” he says, letting go of the guys’s hips with one hand, his phone close enough that he can lean for it without coming out all the way.
It’s like he has a sixth sense for when Lukey is busy with someone else, like he’s so determined to maintain himself as the center of Lukey’s world that it has given him some fucking magic powers that let him know when to waltz in and bring back the spotlight on himself, demanding Lukey’s attention for him and him alone.
“Just pick up then! I don’t care!” Pangi had said the other day - in front of his whole chat, mind you.
Well then.
He’s like, ninety-nine percent Pangi isn’t live tonight. He has called him while live before, hence the one percent of insertitude, but he wasn’t the last time Lukey had a looked at Twitch, half an hour ago, and this is supposed to be his day off.
So, he picks up.
And then immediately deafens before dropping the phone right next to his knee and turning back to the task at hand.
“Where were we?” he asks teasingly before sliding most of the way back in, the only response he gets a grunt of pleasure from his partner.
And it’s good. Simple enough an act that it would be hard for it to not be.
It’s a bit hard to focus on though, his head hundreds of kilometers away, in the Netherlands where Pangi just probably heard something he technically asked for but never really wished to hear…
His phone is screen down on the bed, so he doesn’t know for sure - but there’s no way Pangi didn’t hang up as soon as he realized what was going on, right?
Still, the thought that he could be listening in still might just be hotter than the actual sex he’s in the middle of having.
Which isn’t exactly surprising. Lukey knows he likes to have an audience, though it has never extended to actual sex. But maybe he just found out a new kink…
Or maybe it’s about his audience being Pangi… His hips stutter at the thought, his rhythm faltering, and he finds himself talking in between thrusts, saying things he would say if it was Pangi there with him, naked in his bed, writhing on his cock - so pretty, so desperate, begging for more - and it’s easy enough to imagine - it happens enough against his will anyway, but it’s not quite it… There are too many details that are wrong, this guy can’t quite measure up - his hair too light and too short at the back, his voice the wrong pitch, his back not quite muscled enough - so he closes his eyes, and there, now he can almost convince himself…
Are you hearing this? Do you wish it was you like I wish you were there?
He opens his eyes again, tempted to check on his phone - what if he’s not listening though. He’s so close… Nothing would kill the mood like actually seeing that he hung up. So Lukey tighten his grip on the body in front of him, thrusts harder, conjures up an image of Pangi, superimpose it over the man in his bed as he clenches around his cock, coming untouched, giving out praise like he knows he would like - he so enjoys his praise, his Sem, his good boy, likes knowing he did good, so good for him…
He has to bite his tongue to not say the name of who he’s been imagining in the guy’s place as he comes soon after. He feels a bit like an asshole for all of this, but at least he’s the only one who knows, so mostly he feels good, more relaxed than he’s been in a long while, as he collapses half on top of the other, who pushes him off half-heartedly with a laugh. Lukey sits up, blinking up as the guy gets up on his knees to face him. His expression his dazed, his grey eyes - wrong, wrong, wrong - half-lidded and his voice hoarse when he says:
“That was… different.”
“Different bad or different good?”
“I liked it,” he says, before leaning in to kiss Lukey, his finger tangling in the chain of the necklace that rests over Lukey’s chest and he has the urge to shake him off - it’s not his fault he doesn’t know what the necklace means to him. Not his fault Lukey’s in love with the person who gifted it to him.
(But now he’s all tensed up again, and he can’t help but resent him for that.)
“Mmh… I’m gonna go grab a shower - if you don’t mind.”
“Go for it,” Lukey replies, not looking at his naked form as he leaves the room, instead already searching for his phone. He picks it up with trembling hands.
The call is still going.
Pangi didn’t hang up.
Holy shit.
He undeafens the call, bringing up the phone tentatively up to his ear.
“Sem?”
The calls ends.
Pangi
Pangi had thought Lukey had been joking when he’d said one of the things he’d been busy with was having “massive sex” - whatever the fuck that meant. Of course he’d thought it was a joke, or else he wouldn’t have brought it up live in front of hundreds of strangers, however slighted he might or might not have felt for being blown off in favor of some random hook up. That was just not a bro move, especially in their line of work, where privacy was so hard to keep intact
It’s not that he thinks Lukey can’t pull. No, he’s witnessed first hand the way people gravitate towards him, men and women alike, charmed by his looks and wits, impressed by his resumé and the crazy stories he tells.
But every time Lukey had left with him, going back to their shared hotel or airbnb room, spending the night with him, waking up all tangled up with him…
So he’d always thought Lukey wasn’t that interested at the moment. That he was, just like Pangi himself, more focused on his studies, work and friendships than his dating - or sexual - life. Because if not, why would he blow all those people off in favor of spending time with Pangi, who’s just his friend?
As it turns out though, Lukey, in an uncharacteristic move, had been telling the truth about this. As it turns out, they’re not quite as in sync as Pangi believed. As it turns out, Lukey isn’t quite as focused on his studies and work as he’d claimed to be and has apparently a bit more than friendship in mind those days.
Which Pangi learns all about, in the worst possible way.
“Hey, man…”
“Where were we?” he thinks he hears, but there’s a rather lound sound of fabric rustling against the mic of Lukey’s phone so he isn’t quite sure - not that it makes any sense to him any way. Is he talking to someone else?
“Lucas? Helloooo??”
There’s no reply, only… sounds.
“Lucas?”
A voice - not Lukey’s, he’s pretty sure, he could pick out his voice out of the loudest crowd - not any intelligible word either. It sounds almost like…
“The fuck?”
More fabric - bedsheets, his mind provides - sounds against the mic and then, clear as day, the slap of skin on skin with the tell-tale wet undertone of lubricant.
Holy shit.
Holy shit he’s actually having sex right now.
Breathless bits of a very familiar laughter and then… Lukey starts talking.
“Ah - you know, I’ve been thinking about this all day, yesterday. Me, inside of you.”
There’s another, louder, kinda muffled - though the voice is definitely masculine - moan at that and the realization that Lukey is actually, actively fucking some guy hits Pangi. Not that he had any particular reason to think it would be the other way around, but it sends his mind reeling, makes something tighten, low in his stomach and the picture that’s been building up in his mind sharpen.
Lucas, kneeling on his bed, wiry muscles flexing, stomach taunt as he ploughs in, sweat pearling on his flushed skin, his hair - shorter than the usual after his last haircut - sticking to his forehead, his dark eyes looking completely black with how blown out his pupils are, his mouth opening to say -
“Could barely focus on editing…”
That jolts him out of the vision. They’d been in VC together yesterday afternoon. And all that time he’d been thinking about some guy, hard at just the thought of fucking him…
“Had to take a break to go take care of it… came so hard just thinking about you…”
Lukey had taken a small break at one point, muting himself for a bit - Pangi can’t remember how long exactly but definitely long enough for a pent up guy to do his business and clean himself up.
“Have you been thinking about me?”
Yes, Pangi can’t help but think and “yes” the other guy says, sounding as pathetic as acknowledging this to himself makes Pangi feels.
“That’s it, baby…”
There’s a loud moan followed by a low, breathless chuckle that speaks of self satisfaction - Lukey’s proud of having made this guy come before he did and yet in the next breath he’s praising him, saying “good boy” like that guy pulled some kind of trick and Pangi’s dick twitches like it thinks he was the one being praised - and why wouldn’t it, after all, everytime he’s heard Lukey say that before it was directed right at him (fucking Pavlov type shit…).
After that the creaking of bedsprings picks up, filling up Pangi’s room and Lukey’s breath comes out louder, quicker out of his phone’s speaker, as if he’s right there and then there is a sound - not too unlike others he’s heard before - Lukey is so expressive, always making some kind of noise. But in this context it’s unmistakable, it’s the sound of Lukey - his Lucas - having an orgasm and it stuns him to the core.
He barely hears the words that are being exchanged on the other end of the line after that. He feels almost dizzy, his heart is beating too fast and he’s out of breath like he’s run to catch a flight - and still missed it.
He’s also painfully hard.
There’s more sounds of fabric rustling, a beep, a deep breath, then:
“Sem?”
Panic seizes him - shit, shit, shit, he knows I was listening - and he smashes the end call button so hard his phone slides off his desk and onto the floor.
Which leaves him staring into nothingness, one hand clasped on his dick through his shorts, thoughts rushing in a useless circle that can be summed up as “fuck, fuck, fuck…”
He doesn’t know which he is more: turned on or upset.
He isn’t even sure why he’s upset. The easy answer is that he’s heard something he shouldn’t have… something he didn’t consent to hearing… except he kind of did, didn’t he? By not hanging up, by listening in…
No, he doesn’t really have the right to be upset about this - but he still is… Which is upsetting in and of itself.
Focusing on why he’s so turned on might just be easier, simpler - and more urgent, since he’s still sporting a massive hard on.
He gets up from his desk and walks the few steps to his bed, collapsing onto it like a puppet whose strings have just been cut.
He stares at the slanted ceiling as he lowers down his shorts, as if not looking at his leaking cock as he puts his hands on it would make this less… whatever it is.
Shit, this had been… hot. Way too hot.
He’s never looked at gay porn - why would he, after all, he’s straight - but now he can’t help but wonder if it’s all as hot as what he just heard or if Lukey is just that good at it, that he can make it sound hot even to a straight man.
Which makes him remember how Lukey had been offered a role for a fictional gay porn scene in that one Netflix show. A threesome, if his memory serves him well - and oh, this was the wrong thing to think about, or maybe just the right one, because it means that next thing he knows he’s picturing himself coming up behind Lukey as he fucks into some faceless man, sliding his hands over his stomach, down to his hips, his grip tightening there as he brings his ass flush to Pangi’s front, slowing him down so that the other guy has to actually make an effort, fucking himself on Lukey’s cock. But Lukey wouldn’t care - not with Pangi there - he’d turn his head away, craning his neck, wanting to be kissed (Lukey likes kissing during sex, he knows that) and Pangi would oblige, because he’s always been good at giving him what he wants - what he needs - hasn’t he?
Barrelling right past how all of those thoughts are definitely not those of a straight man - it all feels too good to bother with that right now - he finds that the thought of himself as an active participant is not as upsetting as being a powerless bystander was… which is a good thing, right?
But this is still not quite it.
So he banishes the other guy to the void, so it’s just them and Lukey has no other choice but to turn to him.
Just him - him that Lukey is focusing on, him that he’s whispering all about his dirty thought to, him that he’s praising, him that he touching, him that he’s fucking into…
“Me, inside of you.”
“Oh, fuck…”
He’s wondered about it a few times, of course. One can hardly do what he does - the roleplay, the public flirting, the being accused by your asshole friend of being done from behind by your other friend who you do said roleplay and public flirting with - without the thought crossing their mind, even if it’s to chase it away immediately after.
(Chase it away, bury it, lock it up behind heavily reinforced doors made of denial and self reassurance.)
But it’s never been like that - never as vivid in his mind’s eye, never as hard to chase away…
He lets go of his cock with one hand, sliding it down past his balls, his fingers grazing at the tight ring of muscles there, and it’s kinda weird but not bad weird…
He hesitates, almost takes his fingers away, back to safer, known territories. He doesn’t need this to come - never has - he’s so close already. And yet it does feel like a need, all of a sudden, rather than mere curiosity. A need for more, for something that would get him a little bit closer to the real deal…
Lukey wouldn’t be shy as he is being. He would be gentle at first, because Pangi’s never done this before, but he wouldn’t hesitate - he’d be confident, determined to make him feel good, make him regret that they haven’t been doing this all this time, make him beg for more - one knuckle deep - more - deeper - more - “that’s it, baby” - more…
”Good boy.”
The sound he makes as he comes is halfway to a sob - something that sounds pathetic even through the too loud thumping of his heart in his inner ears - but it’s fine, he tells himself, because there’s no one here to hear him.
It’s strangely not as comforting a thought as it should be.