#fanfic2
unfinished!!
untitled
claude/hannah/sebastian ;; kuro2 college au.
R18 FF.
warnings for alcohol and drug abuse. swearing. fucking.
--
On the Saturday before his twenty first birthday, Sebastian tells William he is leaving. It is not a pretty thing, nor is it amicable. William leaves after biting word after biting word and Sebastian, in his anger, cuts through every single one of his ties. Petty, really, but it makes him feel marginally better.
It is when he is outside, William’s suits in hand and a tank of gasoline in the other, that Claude finds him and coldly persuades him that perhaps burning William’s clothes is not the best solution. Which, admittedly, does not explain why he ends up in Claude’s shared apartment with Hannah, but that is where he ends up regardless. They’re typical arts students in that there is a plethora of drugs hidden in the oddest of spots (the biscuit tin, the teapot and the breadbin) but not so typical in that the apartment is immaculate.
“Claude,” Hannah says quietly as Sebastian shrugs off his jacket, “is obsessive compulsive about order.”
Sebastian thinks there’s a small undertone of bitterness there, but he simply raises an eyebrow and asks no questions. Rather, he takes a seat on their floor next to the coffee table and watches Claude roll blunts - which perhaps is the biggest shock of the night. “I thought you to proper for that, Claude.”
Hannah sits down opposite him and smirks, casting a glance to Claude. “He is an admirable actor,” she says, drawing her hair over her shoulder. Sebastian snorts and nods. He can agree with that, at least. Claude, pauses to glance at them , shoots a look at Hannah; all narrowed eyes and a curl of his lip. Sebastian watches quietly and wonders if perhaps they’ve had a fight.
“Hannah,” Claude says, voice tight, “at the very least you can pour Sebastian a drink, can you not?”
“You are there, are you not?” she bites back, her elbow on the table and her head against her palm. “After all, I am rather useless when it comes to simple tasks, is that not correct?”
Claude’s mouth twitches and his eyes narrow. “You are being petty.”
“And you are being lazy.”
It is, Sebastian thinks, perhaps the most amusing thing he has ever seen. “And here I thought you two got on.”
Hannah casts him a look; an eyebrow raised and her fingers drumming against her cheek. “We do. Claude here, however, has decided that today he is going to be regretfully insulting.”
“She is overreacting,” Claude hisses, placing a bottle of wine and then a bottle of vodka down on the table, each with more force than needed. The blunts follow them as he sits himself down next to Sebastian, a scowl on his face.
“Or so he says. You do not mind drinking from the bottle, do you Sebastian? I don’t feel like being terribly lady like tonight.”
Sebastian snorts and reaches for a blunt, his mouth smirking. “At the very least, watching you two has put me in a better mood already. Crack a bottle open, won’t you Claude?”
And he does; reaches forwards as Sebastian slides the blunt between his lips and ignites it. The wine first, of course, as it always is. There is a certain lack of the control Sebastian is used to seeing with Claude as he watches him place the bottle to his mouth and swig it. It is, he thinks, something which makes him seem much more agreeable than usual. Less the stiff, smug bastard and more human. He starts in surprise, however, forced out of his thoughts at the feel of Hannah pressed to his side and her hand plucking the blunt from his mouth. He exhales; watches as the smoke swirls and dances in the air as Hannah draws it in.
“So,” Claude says, handing Sebastian the bottle. “You’re leaving?”
Sebastian nods and presses the bottle to his lips, can feel Hannah watching him with interest. “Culinary school,” he says as soon as he has swallowed. “William, as you probably gathered, did not take it well.”
“Perhaps you’ve broken his heart,” Hannah says quietly as she exhales and Sebastian thinks it oddly beautiful, the way the smoke escapes from her lips. He thinks it hilarious, the thought of anyone breaking William’s heart. As likely as someone breaking his, he thinks, and that in itself is entirely impossible. Sebastian has often thought his heart all dried up and like stone in his chest; impenetrable and irreparable and-
Ah. “This is rather strong is it not?” If the melodrama repeating over and over in his head is any indication. Claude smirks and takes the blunt from Hannah’s extended hand.
“The best, of course.”
Sebastian cannot really feel the need to deny it - whatever it is Claude has given them to smoke is certainly working, even after one draw. The wine, he realises as he takes another swig, is wonderfully fruity and he almost chokes on laughter at the sheer thought of Claude enjoying fruity things.
“I’m sure William just needs to clear his head,” Hannah says idly, the vodka in her hands, her hands deftly undoing the cap. “That is quite the bombshell.”
“Perhaps we ought to not talk about it,” Claude murmurs.
And so they don’t. The night progresses with the passing of weed and alcohol and the funniest stories in between until the room seems to explode in colour and Sebastian finds everything entirely surreal. The way Claude laughs, for example and the way his lips look when he speaks. Or the way Hannah’s head feels against his shoulder, her hair tickling his hand and her breasts pressed against his arm.
He is, he realises, suddenly feeling rather impulsive and without any sense of time. He wonders, what Claude’s jaw would feel like if he grasped it now and how he would taste if he were to kiss him. And there is, he thinks, no better way to find out than to put action into practice. Claude is surprisingly easy to coax into giving him attention, even more surprising is the way he responds when Sebastian kisses him and really, it is rather nice, the way Claude’s lips move against his and the way his hand feels against his cheek and he considers briefly, as they kiss (slow at first and then hard and desperate and wonderfulbitingamazing) if he and Hannah do this.
Ah, Hannah. Sebastian can feel her beside him and when he pulls back from Claude, panting, chest rising and falling, he glances at her. She watches them with a curious expression on her face, her hands clutching the vodka bottle loosely and Sebastian is stricken with the sudden thought that perhaps he really ought to kiss her too. And so when she stands and attempts to move, Sebastian takes her hand and pulls; pulls her down and she stumbles and then topples, legs sprawling across Sebastian’s thighs and her head hitting Claude’s chest.
He snorts, resists laughter as he slides in between her legs, even as she rights herself and opens her mouth to say something - a complaint, perhaps, but Sebastian lips get there first. He half expects her to resist; to push or kick him away. She does neither; she jerks back, momentarily, but Claude is unmoving behind her and when Sebastian peeks an eye open he sees that his arms around her waist. How thoughtful, he thinks and then he doesn’t do much of that - thinking, that is - because Hannah wraps her arms around his shoulders, pulls him down and closer and where Claude had been hard, Hannah is slow and drawn out. Sebastian shifts, a hand on her thigh and when he moves, he lifts her leg and settles it around his waist and presses forward and he’s sure if he pushes any further she’ll be trapped between himself and Claude.
Oh, of course, Claude. Sebastian feels Claude’s hair against his cheek more than he feels his arm knocking against his. Still, it is only when Hannah’s fingers grasp at his hair, painfully tight and she gasps against his mouth, that opens his eyes, breaks his mouth from hers sees. Sees Claude’s mouth against where her shoulder meets her neck; sees his tongue before teeth grasp at the skin and Hannah lets out a stuttered breathe, her eyes squeezed tight. Claude’s arm bumps against his again and when he looks down Hannah’s body; where he has her trapped and arched between himself and Claude, he sees Claude’s hands. One resting under her teeshirt and on her breast, the other stretched down between her legs and that is why, perhaps, she is still clutching Sebastian’s hair so tightly. He watches, his forehead pressed against Hannah’s, the way Claude’s fingers barely even touch her over the fabric of her shorts, rubbing small, short circles and Hannah’s teeth catch her bottom lip and her eyes open, her cheeks flushing.
“You are as predictably as receptive as usual,” Sebastian hears Claude say and that is when he reaches up and untangles Hannah’s hands from his hair and leans back. The room is spinning and is unbearably warm and Sebastian can feel an odd kind of itch - not outside, but inside. Like his hands want to be on Hannah and Claude all at once or perhaps on himself. His heart is pounding something terrible and his throat is so incredibly dry, as though he has not had hydration in days. His head feels dizzy and he reaches behind, grabs the vodka and downs what’s left and then discards the bottle to let occupy his hands with unbuttoning his shirt.
All the while, he watches and he observes. The way Hannah’s chest rises and falls and while all he can see is the outline of Claude’s hand under the fabric of her top, he can imagine the way he must be tugging - pinching even, at her nipple. He is stricken suddenly, with a thought as he shrugs his shirt off, that perhaps William is doing something like this. Perhaps he’s run to Grell, all fire and anger and perhaps, even, he is fucking him. It is a rather unpleasant though, Sebastian realises and he can feel anger pooling through his blood all over again. So what if it is his imagination, or even that he is doing the same damn thing - the sheer thought of it makes his blood boil.
He boils inside but when he places a hand against Hannah’s cheek, it is a gentle touch - deceptively so. She looks at him through her eyelashes - lips parted and her hair sticking to her face and Sebastian feels like this is moving far too slow. Far too gentle for what he is feeling. So when he kisses her again, this time it hungry, angry violent and Hannah freezes; her whole body tenses and then her shoulders shake she gives back in kind. Sebastian barely registers Claude as he fights for control; his teeth biting and his tongue soothing against Hannah’s. And perhaps that is a mistake; because suddenly Hannah is pulling him downdowndown and when did Claude move-
Of course, he is surprised when Claude hauls him up by the hair a presses his mouth against Sebastian’s with just as much as violence that he had shown Hannah. It’s short but when Claude pulls away to push Sebastian onto the coffee table, they’re panting.
“You can take care of yourself for the moment, correct?” Claude says to Hannah, removing his glasses.
Sebastian rolls his eyes to look at her; sees her lain on the ground, hair sprawled everywhere and her cheeks and lips redredred.
“Are you telling me that the perfect Claude Faustus can only handle us one at a time?” Hannah says as she pushes herself up and Sebastian decides right then and there, as Claude’s lips curls into a sneer, that he rather likes Hannah. “How utterly disappointing.”
“Are you that impatient?”
“Now, now,” Sebastian says, extending a hand to Hannah, his finger curling “She does have a point. Are we too much at once for you Claude? Perhaps we ought to just leave you behind.”
It is a petty jibe, but it gives Sebastian some satisfaction to say it. Hannah’s fingers intertwine with his own as she pulls herself to her knees and Claude, Sebastian notices, looks utterly vexed. He almost laughs. Except Hannah lets him go to take Claude’s hand instead - she draws it against her, between her spread thighs and she leans in, lips against Claude’s jaw and her other hand massaging him through his slacks. “It’s just like you to leave this unfinished.”
And Sebastian does laugh now and wonders just how it is these two have not killed each other yet. A mystery, really. But for now -
Claude pushes her and spins her around and for the second she stumbles and falls atop Sebastian; her hands opposite sides of his head and her nose bumping against his. “Hello,” she says quietly and then bites her lip and Sebastian inclines his head and watches as Claude grasps her hips grinds against her.
“Is this what you want?” Claude says, voice bored sounding. “For me to fuck you like this? Or perhaps,” he goes on a hand grabbing Hannah by the hair and pulling her up, her back flush against him, and his hands sliding down under shorts. “Or perhaps you would rather I fuck you with my fingers while he watches, hm? You see Hannah, you are always very good at yelping inadequacy and then never specifying what you want.”
“You know,” Sebastian says sitting himself up, a smirk on his face. “I think she is rather enjoying that rough treatment. Although you would know better than I,” at that, he nods and his eyes go downcast.
Hannah says nothing - does not deny it and Claude smirks. He smirks and Sebastian sees his hand moving and then Hannah makes this odd sort of noise; a whine and her eyes close tightly, her fingers bunching into fists. “Of course she is,” Claude drawls quietly, his mouth next to her ear. “Isn’t that right, Hannah?”
Sebastian feels suddenly, as though he more a voyeur than anything. It’s interesting to watch these two - the way Hannah bends to Claude’s will sometimes and the way she sometimes bites back. It is clear, he thinks, that she enjoys this. She enjoys the loss of power; gets off on Claude’s aggressiveness. Likewise - he’s always known Claude to be quiet. Arrogant and smug under it all - and it shows even here. He can see the way Claude is amused by this; by the humiliation and the knowledge that Hannah is wet for him. It’s interesting, if not slightly frustrating. It is frustrating being so hard and having no attention on him.
Sebastian has always been very good at being patient and waiting - but tonight he feels as though there is no room for it. There is only wantwantwant and an aching need. So when he stands - ready to do something, anything - he is surprised when Claude looks at him with his cold eyes. “Hannah,” he says, and Sebastian has to step of the as Claude pushes her down onto the coffee table. She catches herself, barely and Claude flips her around until she’s sprawled there. “You’re making our guest feel left out with your selfishness.”
Hannah glances at Sebastian and she looks utterly debauched and Sebastian thinks; fuck. Fuck, fuck and then Claude looks at him - predatory and coldcoldcold and Sebastian doesn’t know when exactly he undid his pants, but his hand feels so good on his cock. “Take your time,” he breathes, descends to his knees and has no idea what the fuck he is doing.
It’s a bit like he has become witness to something that is usually incredibly private. He had suspected that Claude was probably fucking Hannah six ways till Sunday but not with the sheer violence they have at the edges. He thinks; if this is them irritated at each other, what are they like when truly angry? It’s a sad thought to know he will probably never find out. This can only happen once because William-
And then Sebastian’s lip curls into snarl and he thinks; fuck William. Watches Claude slide off Hannah’s shorts and spread her legs. Watches him kiss the inside of her thigh, almost tenderly and then trail his way down and Hannah’s head is tilted back, her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling slowlyslowly and then Claude’s mouth curves into a smirk before it disappears completely. Sebastian has seen this - though he feels it uncouth to admit it - in porn. Seeing it up close is somehow… oddly personal. He cannot take his eyes off the Claude’s head moves just the slightest - or the way Hannah’s thigh quivers just slipped before dipping down and Sebastian sees Claude; sees his mouth working over clit, his fingers thrusting inoutinout and he hears Hannah’s breath coming in short, quick pants. Her back arches and she moans Claude’s name so obscenely that Sebastian almost moans too. It’s almost ridiculous how much this turns him on and for one sober minute, he thinks that any other time he would find this disgusting.
But then it dizzies him to think too much. His head swirls from alcohol and whatever the fuck Claude gave him to smoke, and by the time he warded off an oncoming headache, Hannah’s heels are digging into the top of Claude’s back (just at his shoulder blades, and if he is honest, it looks painful) and one of her hands is gripping Claude’s hair so tightly that her knuckles have gone white. The other she has clasped against her mouth, to ward of any noise she wants to make, Sebastian presumes. It’s rather unfair of her, he thinks. The urge to take her hands away rises and so he does so: shifts on his knees behind her and forces her hand away. Pins it to the table, his fingers around her wrist, and when she looks at him with eyes, he smirks and forcibly pulls her hand from Claude’s hair. The pained grunt Claude makes sends the slightest curve of satisfaction down his spine. “Now, now,” he says, voice smooth. “Claude is working ever so hard. It’s incredibly rude of you to keep him guessing as to whether he is doing a satisfactory job.”
untitled
claude/hannah/sebastian ;; kuro2 college au.
R18 FF.
warnings for alcohol and drug abuse. swearing. fucking.
--
On the Saturday before his twenty first birthday, Sebastian tells William he is leaving. It is not a pretty thing, nor is it amicable. William leaves after biting word after biting word and Sebastian, in his anger, cuts through every single one of his ties. Petty, really, but it makes him feel marginally better.
It is when he is outside, William’s suits in hand and a tank of gasoline in the other, that Claude finds him and coldly persuades him that perhaps burning William’s clothes is not the best solution. Which, admittedly, does not explain why he ends up in Claude’s shared apartment with Hannah, but that is where he ends up regardless. They’re typical arts students in that there is a plethora of drugs hidden in the oddest of spots (the biscuit tin, the teapot and the breadbin) but not so typical in that the apartment is immaculate.
“Claude,” Hannah says quietly as Sebastian shrugs off his jacket, “is obsessive compulsive about order.”
Sebastian thinks there’s a small undertone of bitterness there, but he simply raises an eyebrow and asks no questions. Rather, he takes a seat on their floor next to the coffee table and watches Claude roll blunts - which perhaps is the biggest shock of the night. “I thought you to proper for that, Claude.”
Hannah sits down opposite him and smirks, casting a glance to Claude. “He is an admirable actor,” she says, drawing her hair over her shoulder. Sebastian snorts and nods. He can agree with that, at least. Claude, pauses to glance at them , shoots a look at Hannah; all narrowed eyes and a curl of his lip. Sebastian watches quietly and wonders if perhaps they’ve had a fight.
“Hannah,” Claude says, voice tight, “at the very least you can pour Sebastian a drink, can you not?”
“You are there, are you not?” she bites back, her elbow on the table and her head against her palm. “After all, I am rather useless when it comes to simple tasks, is that not correct?”
Claude’s mouth twitches and his eyes narrow. “You are being petty.”
“And you are being lazy.”
It is, Sebastian thinks, perhaps the most amusing thing he has ever seen. “And here I thought you two got on.”
Hannah casts him a look; an eyebrow raised and her fingers drumming against her cheek. “We do. Claude here, however, has decided that today he is going to be regretfully insulting.”
“She is overreacting,” Claude hisses, placing a bottle of wine and then a bottle of vodka down on the table, each with more force than needed. The blunts follow them as he sits himself down next to Sebastian, a scowl on his face.
“Or so he says. You do not mind drinking from the bottle, do you Sebastian? I don’t feel like being terribly lady like tonight.”
Sebastian snorts and reaches for a blunt, his mouth smirking. “At the very least, watching you two has put me in a better mood already. Crack a bottle open, won’t you Claude?”
And he does; reaches forwards as Sebastian slides the blunt between his lips and ignites it. The wine first, of course, as it always is. There is a certain lack of the control Sebastian is used to seeing with Claude as he watches him place the bottle to his mouth and swig it. It is, he thinks, something which makes him seem much more agreeable than usual. Less the stiff, smug bastard and more human. He starts in surprise, however, forced out of his thoughts at the feel of Hannah pressed to his side and her hand plucking the blunt from his mouth. He exhales; watches as the smoke swirls and dances in the air as Hannah draws it in.
“So,” Claude says, handing Sebastian the bottle. “You’re leaving?”
Sebastian nods and presses the bottle to his lips, can feel Hannah watching him with interest. “Culinary school,” he says as soon as he has swallowed. “William, as you probably gathered, did not take it well.”
“Perhaps you’ve broken his heart,” Hannah says quietly as she exhales and Sebastian thinks it oddly beautiful, the way the smoke escapes from her lips. He thinks it hilarious, the thought of anyone breaking William’s heart. As likely as someone breaking his, he thinks, and that in itself is entirely impossible. Sebastian has often thought his heart all dried up and like stone in his chest; impenetrable and irreparable and-
Ah. “This is rather strong is it not?” If the melodrama repeating over and over in his head is any indication. Claude smirks and takes the blunt from Hannah’s extended hand.
“The best, of course.”
Sebastian cannot really feel the need to deny it - whatever it is Claude has given them to smoke is certainly working, even after one draw. The wine, he realises as he takes another swig, is wonderfully fruity and he almost chokes on laughter at the sheer thought of Claude enjoying fruity things.
“I’m sure William just needs to clear his head,” Hannah says idly, the vodka in her hands, her hands deftly undoing the cap. “That is quite the bombshell.”
“Perhaps we ought to not talk about it,” Claude murmurs.
And so they don’t. The night progresses with the passing of weed and alcohol and the funniest stories in between until the room seems to explode in colour and Sebastian finds everything entirely surreal. The way Claude laughs, for example and the way his lips look when he speaks. Or the way Hannah’s head feels against his shoulder, her hair tickling his hand and her breasts pressed against his arm.
He is, he realises, suddenly feeling rather impulsive and without any sense of time. He wonders, what Claude’s jaw would feel like if he grasped it now and how he would taste if he were to kiss him. And there is, he thinks, no better way to find out than to put action into practice. Claude is surprisingly easy to coax into giving him attention, even more surprising is the way he responds when Sebastian kisses him and really, it is rather nice, the way Claude’s lips move against his and the way his hand feels against his cheek and he considers briefly, as they kiss (slow at first and then hard and desperate and wonderfulbitingamazing) if he and Hannah do this.
Ah, Hannah. Sebastian can feel her beside him and when he pulls back from Claude, panting, chest rising and falling, he glances at her. She watches them with a curious expression on her face, her hands clutching the vodka bottle loosely and Sebastian is stricken with the sudden thought that perhaps he really ought to kiss her too. And so when she stands and attempts to move, Sebastian takes her hand and pulls; pulls her down and she stumbles and then topples, legs sprawling across Sebastian’s thighs and her head hitting Claude’s chest.
He snorts, resists laughter as he slides in between her legs, even as she rights herself and opens her mouth to say something - a complaint, perhaps, but Sebastian lips get there first. He half expects her to resist; to push or kick him away. She does neither; she jerks back, momentarily, but Claude is unmoving behind her and when Sebastian peeks an eye open he sees that his arms around her waist. How thoughtful, he thinks and then he doesn’t do much of that - thinking, that is - because Hannah wraps her arms around his shoulders, pulls him down and closer and where Claude had been hard, Hannah is slow and drawn out. Sebastian shifts, a hand on her thigh and when he moves, he lifts her leg and settles it around his waist and presses forward and he’s sure if he pushes any further she’ll be trapped between himself and Claude.
Oh, of course, Claude. Sebastian feels Claude’s hair against his cheek more than he feels his arm knocking against his. Still, it is only when Hannah’s fingers grasp at his hair, painfully tight and she gasps against his mouth, that opens his eyes, breaks his mouth from hers sees. Sees Claude’s mouth against where her shoulder meets her neck; sees his tongue before teeth grasp at the skin and Hannah lets out a stuttered breathe, her eyes squeezed tight. Claude’s arm bumps against his again and when he looks down Hannah’s body; where he has her trapped and arched between himself and Claude, he sees Claude’s hands. One resting under her teeshirt and on her breast, the other stretched down between her legs and that is why, perhaps, she is still clutching Sebastian’s hair so tightly. He watches, his forehead pressed against Hannah’s, the way Claude’s fingers barely even touch her over the fabric of her shorts, rubbing small, short circles and Hannah’s teeth catch her bottom lip and her eyes open, her cheeks flushing.
“You are as predictably as receptive as usual,” Sebastian hears Claude say and that is when he reaches up and untangles Hannah’s hands from his hair and leans back. The room is spinning and is unbearably warm and Sebastian can feel an odd kind of itch - not outside, but inside. Like his hands want to be on Hannah and Claude all at once or perhaps on himself. His heart is pounding something terrible and his throat is so incredibly dry, as though he has not had hydration in days. His head feels dizzy and he reaches behind, grabs the vodka and downs what’s left and then discards the bottle to let occupy his hands with unbuttoning his shirt.
All the while, he watches and he observes. The way Hannah’s chest rises and falls and while all he can see is the outline of Claude’s hand under the fabric of her top, he can imagine the way he must be tugging - pinching even, at her nipple. He is stricken suddenly, with a thought as he shrugs his shirt off, that perhaps William is doing something like this. Perhaps he’s run to Grell, all fire and anger and perhaps, even, he is fucking him. It is a rather unpleasant though, Sebastian realises and he can feel anger pooling through his blood all over again. So what if it is his imagination, or even that he is doing the same damn thing - the sheer thought of it makes his blood boil.
He boils inside but when he places a hand against Hannah’s cheek, it is a gentle touch - deceptively so. She looks at him through her eyelashes - lips parted and her hair sticking to her face and Sebastian feels like this is moving far too slow. Far too gentle for what he is feeling. So when he kisses her again, this time it hungry, angry violent and Hannah freezes; her whole body tenses and then her shoulders shake she gives back in kind. Sebastian barely registers Claude as he fights for control; his teeth biting and his tongue soothing against Hannah’s. And perhaps that is a mistake; because suddenly Hannah is pulling him downdowndown and when did Claude move-
Of course, he is surprised when Claude hauls him up by the hair a presses his mouth against Sebastian’s with just as much as violence that he had shown Hannah. It’s short but when Claude pulls away to push Sebastian onto the coffee table, they’re panting.
“You can take care of yourself for the moment, correct?” Claude says to Hannah, removing his glasses.
Sebastian rolls his eyes to look at her; sees her lain on the ground, hair sprawled everywhere and her cheeks and lips redredred.
“Are you telling me that the perfect Claude Faustus can only handle us one at a time?” Hannah says as she pushes herself up and Sebastian decides right then and there, as Claude’s lips curls into a sneer, that he rather likes Hannah. “How utterly disappointing.”
“Are you that impatient?”
“Now, now,” Sebastian says, extending a hand to Hannah, his finger curling “She does have a point. Are we too much at once for you Claude? Perhaps we ought to just leave you behind.”
It is a petty jibe, but it gives Sebastian some satisfaction to say it. Hannah’s fingers intertwine with his own as she pulls herself to her knees and Claude, Sebastian notices, looks utterly vexed. He almost laughs. Except Hannah lets him go to take Claude’s hand instead - she draws it against her, between her spread thighs and she leans in, lips against Claude’s jaw and her other hand massaging him through his slacks. “It’s just like you to leave this unfinished.”
And Sebastian does laugh now and wonders just how it is these two have not killed each other yet. A mystery, really. But for now -
Claude pushes her and spins her around and for the second she stumbles and falls atop Sebastian; her hands opposite sides of his head and her nose bumping against his. “Hello,” she says quietly and then bites her lip and Sebastian inclines his head and watches as Claude grasps her hips grinds against her.
“Is this what you want?” Claude says, voice bored sounding. “For me to fuck you like this? Or perhaps,” he goes on a hand grabbing Hannah by the hair and pulling her up, her back flush against him, and his hands sliding down under shorts. “Or perhaps you would rather I fuck you with my fingers while he watches, hm? You see Hannah, you are always very good at yelping inadequacy and then never specifying what you want.”
“You know,” Sebastian says sitting himself up, a smirk on his face. “I think she is rather enjoying that rough treatment. Although you would know better than I,” at that, he nods and his eyes go downcast.
Hannah says nothing - does not deny it and Claude smirks. He smirks and Sebastian sees his hand moving and then Hannah makes this odd sort of noise; a whine and her eyes close tightly, her fingers bunching into fists. “Of course she is,” Claude drawls quietly, his mouth next to her ear. “Isn’t that right, Hannah?”
Sebastian feels suddenly, as though he more a voyeur than anything. It’s interesting to watch these two - the way Hannah bends to Claude’s will sometimes and the way she sometimes bites back. It is clear, he thinks, that she enjoys this. She enjoys the loss of power; gets off on Claude’s aggressiveness. Likewise - he’s always known Claude to be quiet. Arrogant and smug under it all - and it shows even here. He can see the way Claude is amused by this; by the humiliation and the knowledge that Hannah is wet for him. It’s interesting, if not slightly frustrating. It is frustrating being so hard and having no attention on him.
Sebastian has always been very good at being patient and waiting - but tonight he feels as though there is no room for it. There is only wantwantwant and an aching need. So when he stands - ready to do something, anything - he is surprised when Claude looks at him with his cold eyes. “Hannah,” he says, and Sebastian has to step of the as Claude pushes her down onto the coffee table. She catches herself, barely and Claude flips her around until she’s sprawled there. “You’re making our guest feel left out with your selfishness.”
Hannah glances at Sebastian and she looks utterly debauched and Sebastian thinks; fuck. Fuck, fuck and then Claude looks at him - predatory and coldcoldcold and Sebastian doesn’t know when exactly he undid his pants, but his hand feels so good on his cock. “Take your time,” he breathes, descends to his knees and has no idea what the fuck he is doing.
It’s a bit like he has become witness to something that is usually incredibly private. He had suspected that Claude was probably fucking Hannah six ways till Sunday but not with the sheer violence they have at the edges. He thinks; if this is them irritated at each other, what are they like when truly angry? It’s a sad thought to know he will probably never find out. This can only happen once because William-
And then Sebastian’s lip curls into snarl and he thinks; fuck William. Watches Claude slide off Hannah’s shorts and spread her legs. Watches him kiss the inside of her thigh, almost tenderly and then trail his way down and Hannah’s head is tilted back, her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling slowlyslowly and then Claude’s mouth curves into a smirk before it disappears completely. Sebastian has seen this - though he feels it uncouth to admit it - in porn. Seeing it up close is somehow… oddly personal. He cannot take his eyes off the Claude’s head moves just the slightest - or the way Hannah’s thigh quivers just slipped before dipping down and Sebastian sees Claude; sees his mouth working over clit, his fingers thrusting inoutinout and he hears Hannah’s breath coming in short, quick pants. Her back arches and she moans Claude’s name so obscenely that Sebastian almost moans too. It’s almost ridiculous how much this turns him on and for one sober minute, he thinks that any other time he would find this disgusting.
But then it dizzies him to think too much. His head swirls from alcohol and whatever the fuck Claude gave him to smoke, and by the time he warded off an oncoming headache, Hannah’s heels are digging into the top of Claude’s back (just at his shoulder blades, and if he is honest, it looks painful) and one of her hands is gripping Claude’s hair so tightly that her knuckles have gone white. The other she has clasped against her mouth, to ward of any noise she wants to make, Sebastian presumes. It’s rather unfair of her, he thinks. The urge to take her hands away rises and so he does so: shifts on his knees behind her and forces her hand away. Pins it to the table, his fingers around her wrist, and when she looks at him with eyes, he smirks and forcibly pulls her hand from Claude’s hair. The pained grunt Claude makes sends the slightest curve of satisfaction down his spine. “Now, now,” he says, voice smooth. “Claude is working ever so hard. It’s incredibly rude of you to keep him guessing as to whether he is doing a satisfactory job.”