A/N: Entry for Fictober 2018, day 10.
Prompt: "You think this troubles me?"
Bertrand often felt he didn't experience puberty the way he should have. Not that he thought about it often, he was eighteen and had much more important issues to care about. But sometimes he realized that most people his age seemed to have had sexual experiences in one way or another, and he felt behind. He didn't even see much appeal in any of that. Maybe just there wasn't one, and he could live with that. Or maybe he was missing out on something, and this possibility bothered him a little.
Nothing in his life has ever been very "normal". He had been raised by three siblings who adopted him when he was just a baby, he was trained from a young age to be a member of a secret organization, he had a very hard time making friends and not long ago he found out almost everything he knew about himself was a lie, including his status as an orphan, since one of his parents could be alive, but that was nowhere close a good news. To say it shortly, his life was a big mess, and not even the fact that most people he knew lived in the same sort of mess or worse made him feel better about it. He was not stupid. He knew this was not normal, and that the discoveries most boys had during their teenage years didn't involve eavesdropping a tea party for a secret coded conversation that could maybe explain why you almost died in a burning building, or looking for a secret compartment in a box under your guardian's bed to find at least one picture of your biological mother.
Bertrand thought that maybe the reason why he didn't get to experience puberty the proper way was that he was always with his head full of those complicated conspiracies. But then again, the friend who hid with him under the table during the tea party was currently dating and didn't seem to have any issue of the sort.
But really, it was not something he thought about often, only when the subject showed up in conversation, or in a novel he was reading, or in a play he acted in. Until one day he felt like all the years of hormones that for some reason were suppressed so far all hit him at once.
It was during a celebration after the closing of a successful play that successfully aided a successful secret mission. He was in a circle with some of his fellow actors and some other people he didn't know, when someone asked where was the star of the night. As the second best friend of the star, Bertrand felt like it was his duty to look for her, and he happened to have seen her early with her boyfriend.
His naive mind didn't connect the dots, didn't realize that there was an obvious reason why Beatrice had walked with her boyfriend to a hidden spot of the ballroom.
When he pulled the curtains that covered that particular corner, he found Beatrice and Lemony in the middle of a make-out session. The two were so entertained by each other that they didn't even notice someone else was there.
Bertrand first felt shocked. He knew of the things a couple did together, but he had never experienced any of it himself, and being raised by single people, he had never seen more than the quick, chaste kisses people gave in public. This was something else entirely.
It was so intense. He didn't think any novel made justice to what it really looked like. Shock quickly became curiosity, and curiosity became something else that made his heart beat faster and his blood move down.
Lemony had Beatrice pressed against the wall. One of her hands was on his head, fingers curling around strands of his hair, pulling him closer. The other caressed the back of his neck, her long nails softly scratching his skin, sometimes leaving light pink marks. Her chest was pressed against his, a layer of sequins against the fine fabric of his tie and shirt. His jacket was off, thrown somewhere. The straps of her dress had slipped from her shoulders, lowering a little her neckline, exposing more of her chest than Bertrand had ever seen, even in all the quick changes backstage.
Her eyes were closed but not fully. Bertrand could see a line of white between her painted eyelids. It was an expression of relaxation and bliss.
Lemony had his face flushed, almost fully pink. The corner of his lip was stained by Beatrice's lipstick. His hands held her bottom firmly, wrinkling her dress. Among the folds of fabric, Bertrand could see he had an erection. Beatrice seemed aware as well, by the way she pressed her waist against his.
They kissed with their mouths open, sometimes a move or another showed a little of one of their tongues. They seemed so hungry for each other, and they couldn't get enough.
It was strangely fascinating. Later Bertrand realized he should have felt embarrassed by the situation, but at the time he was simply fascinated. The strangest part was that just watching brought to him such intense images that he could almost feel what it was like to be one of them.
He imagined how hard it felt to breathe while kissing like that. The warmth of Beatrice's body, the teasing pain of her scratches, the scent of her perfume, the way her curls sometimes tickled Lemony's skin, and how pleasant and frustrating her moves against his crotch must feel. At the same time, his hard grip on her butt, his hair that looked so soft, how he sometimes seemed in control and how good that looked on him, but also how often he seemed under Beatrice's control, and how that made Bertrand wonder how far he would allow it.
At last, Bertrand realized he was fully aroused by the scene, and that horrified him. He was looking at them, both of them in ways he had never before, and he was wishing for things he shouldn't wish for. He wished to see more, to see clothes being discarded and they going all the way. As if to stop his own thoughts, he interrupted the scene by clearing his thought. He said in a low tone that someone was looking for Beatrice, and the young couple quickly recomposed themselves, looking very embarrassed. He tried to pretend he was as well. He hoped neither of them looked down enough to notice his situation
The rest of the night was hell. Bertrand tried hard to get rid of the images in his head, but it seemed impossible. Even his dreams later wouldn't help.
When he noticed that that feeling wouldn't go away, he decided to deal with them in the same way he dealt with everything else: he started asking questions, investigating, look for any information that could help him understand what was going on. Of course, he had no one to ask except for himself, as he couldn't possibly risk his friends finding out and he was still not talking with his guardians. There were books concerning sexuality but he didn't make as much use of them as he wished since he was afraid of the embarrassment of being seen with them. So most of his "investigation" consisted of thinking really hard and asking himself whys and what-ifs.
What really bothered Bertrand was that most of the images and fantasies he had didn't involve him in Lemony's place, or even in Beatrice's place. No, in most, almost all of them, he was just a viewer. He considered that maybe this was just curiosity, result of his lack of experience. Yet, if it was only that, it could have been anyone, right? But as much as he tried, he could not replace his friends with fictional characters or movie stars. Heck, at one point he even risked all of his reputation by sneaking out of a certain library a certain tape with three repeated letters on its label, and though the explicit contents made him feel things, in the end the fantasies remained the same (if only a little more daring now).
The only consolation he had was that after the first couple of days, the images didn't come to him all the time, and miraculously, he didn't start looking at his friends in a different way because of them. He could rehearse and chat with Beatrice just like before, without being plagued by indecent thoughts. He could even remain chill when Lemony went to the theater to greet her, and they hugged and kissed and did all that loving stuff. At those times he would always find a distraction though, just to not risk tempting his body.
Then one night, when Bertrand and Beatrice were on duty to watch the theater, their talk took some weird turns and Bertrand ended up spilling all out to her. To his relief, she didn't seem angry or disgusted or even embarrassed. But she also didn't make any comments, or showed anything that could tell him how she felt about it.
Bertrand went home and spent the rest of the night wondering if he had made the right choice. He was worried about losing his friend, but at the same time, he felt a little lighter now that he had told her the truth. It could be more than she wished to know but she still had a right to know, and now she knew it.
The next morning, Beatrice greeted him as usual, and acted as if nothing had happened. She was still friendly and kind and smiled as usual. It took Bertrand by surprise and he had no idea of how to feel about it.
At night, the two stayed alone again on duty. After some minutes of tedious silence, Beatrice finally spoke.
"So, the thing you said yesterday…"
"Forget I said anything yesterday." Bertrand quickly said, feeling his cheeks heating. It was terribly embarrassing, but not as terrible as he had imagined.
"It's a bit too late for you to say this," Beatrice said in a light tone. "I don't think I will be able to forget you have a kink for me and my boyfriend." She added, blunt as always.
Bertrand lowered his head, ashamed. Maybe it was almost as terrible as he had imagined. At least Beatrice was still speaking to him. Maybe after some long embarrassing years she would forget it.
"I think it took a lot of courage for you to tell me." She said, sounding a little proud. "You are one of the shiest guys I know. I don't think I ever saw you talking about dirty stuff before."
"I don't think I ever did," Bertrand mumbled.
"You weren't joking, right? This is… this is big. This is serious. This is almost scandalous."
"You think this troubles me?" Bertrand asked. "I feel like it doesn't, not as much as it should. My main concern was that it could offend you somehow."
Beatrice gave him a wide-eyed look, then smiled.
"I'm not offended. It's not like you are harassing me." She chuckled. "I was trying to say. I was surprised, but also…" She lowered her eyes. Bertrand gave her a questioning look. "I told L about it."
"You did what?" He felt embarrassed all over again, any comfort Beatrice had given him with her words gone. He wanted to be mad, but it was not like Lemony didn't have the right to know it as well.
Maybe Bertrand could ask the organization to transfer him to Peru and he would never have to face these people again.
"I did." Beatrice frowned. "You sounded serious about it. You were serious about it, right?"
"I was, but-"
"He is not against the idea."
Bertrand felt his mind spinning.
"A-against what idea?"
"You know, this whole idea," Beatrice said, uncharacteristically nervous. "He's not against it and I'm not against it, so we can talk if you really want to… to watch."
It was Bertrand's turn to give her a wide-eyed look.
"Are you sure?"
Beatrice nodded. "I… like experimenting new things. This sounded interesting. And L is used to my weird requests. He knows to turn me down when I get out of line." She said, voice very low. "He's not against it. Maybe he is not as interested as I am but he's not against it, so we can talk and maybe try it to see how it goes."
Now that was an unexpected development. Part of Bertrand was sure this had to be a weird dream, or maybe he was getting it all wrong. If not, things were going to get wrong. Things couldn't be that simple.
Beatrice lowered her head again.
"Was this too direct? I'm sorry. You must be thinking I'm a whore."
It was strange to see Beatrice, blunt and brave and confident Beatrice talking down on herself. It was just wrong. She shouldn't feel that way, especially for something that wasn't anywhere near the truth.
"I'm not," Bertrand said. "I was the one who brought this all up, so if there is any whore here it is me." He smiled, as if to show he wouldn't be offended by the label anyway.
Beatrice tentatively smiled back.
"You are not seeing me differently because of this stuff, are you?"
"No. I mean, since that day I feel like I am… attracted to you somehow. Of course, I would never disrespect your relationship. Just-"
She suddenly held his hand, making him stop what he was saying.
"Are you seeing me differently because of this?" He had to ask.
"Not really. Not in a bad way. You are my second best friend and one of the people I trust the most in the world. This would probably weird me out if it came from anyone else, but from you, I feel like it can work. We can have some fun." She paused. "If it doesn't work, we will still be friends, right? It won't make things weird, right?"
Bertrand softly squeezed her hand. "I don't want it to."
"Me neither." She replied. "That should be enough. We will know when we need to stop."
"If all else fails, I can ask to be transferred. The world is pretty big." He joked.
She lightly slapped his arm.
"No way! You will stay here and take responsibility."
"Why are you speaking as if I could get you pregnant?"
"Who knows what could happen?" Beatrice looked away.
"I don't think that's how it… I mean, I will not… I will just-"
"We will discuss this all. The three of us, I mean." She offered.
Bertrand nodded, taking the hint that this was a chance to stop the awkwardness for now. Everything they needed to discuss between the two of them, and that they could, they already did.
He looked at Beatrice from the corner of his eye. He was almost sure that she had insinuated that something could happen between them, a possibility he had not considered before. Was it something she had talked to Lemony about too? Or it was just a slip of her tongue?
Was it something Bertrand wanted as well?
He knew he didn't need to figure out everything so soon. There were a lot of things involved in it, many of them out of his control. This situation made him feel uneasy, but he hoped it would be worth it in the end.
The only thing he could be sure of for now was that his fantasies would get a lot more intense from now on.