AN: This is officially the dirtiest, smuttiest piece of this story thus far, and I actually have the next two pieces after it already written. This takes place after Conrad has started having actual anal sex with Luce, but before he's done very much with Lamont. It's also early enough in his relationship with Luce that he's still quite insecure about what he's taking part in. I had fun writing this mostly because while it's filthy sex, it's also a pretty good demonstration of how Luce's dynamic with Lamont is when it comes to Conrad. Luce doesn't share well. Anyway, Hanna is Not a Boy's Name still belongs to the marvelous Tessa Stone. I am not making any money and mean no offense.

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PSYCHOLOGY OF A HUMMINGBIRD

-by: Lira-

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.006. - "Hardcore" - .As the Showpiece.

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The bed was the concession to Conrad's comfort. A concession that was lost by the prospect of things to come, Conrad sitting on sheets that were far neater than anything in Luce's apartment had a right to be. The kind thought was further obscured by these freshly-laundered bedclothes, sterilized so they no longer bore the scent of Luce, so that their rustling against his skin no longer reminded him of Luce's touch. It was hard to sit there, naked, knowing that both Luce and Lamont were in the room with him and that both men would be looking at him, scrutinizing everything.

Lamont was sitting by the head of the bed, in his boxers, folding and unfolding a short coil of rope. Conrad suspected he wasn't supposed to have inferred this, but the way he could feel Lamont's gaze tracing over him while Lamont's hands remained withdrawn could not have been entirely by choice. He was not an idiot, no matter how many times Luce patronized him, and he knew that Lamont liked him. Perhaps in a truer sense than Luce did himself. It was Luce's presence that kept Lamont passively waiting, otherwise Conrad thought Lamont might invite him near, as he had that day alone, weeks ago.

Luce was at the foot of the bed, and while Conrad could see Lamont with his rope out of the corner of his eyes, it was Luce his gaze was caught by. All Luce was doing was getting out of his clothes, but oh he knew that Conrad was watching. He knew that eyes were upon him and so he stripped the buttons from his shirt slowly, laying open the fabric so that Conrad received peeks at his chest, just one glimpse of skin at a time. Finally Luce shrugged the garment off his shoulders and dropped it to the floor, unconcerned. The pants came next, the fly laid open with a sure hand and the article guided from Luce's hips, until they dropped about his ankles just as surely as the shirt had fallen, and Luce stepped out of them.

Conrad also suspected that Luce liked underwear that kept his cock close for a reason, so that when he bared the front of his undergarments to Conrad, Conrad could see the exact outline. He would never admit how many times he had sketched the image of Luce's hard cock clutched tight by that thin material, purely from memory. Luce was hard then, and when he jerked out of the briefs it was like an afterthought. Those he tossed aside more forcefully, moving up to Conrad on the bed with that cocky, irresistible confidence. Conrad hadn't realized he'd been momentarily stunned by it, by the shift of Luce's body, until the man's mouth was on his, pressing hard.

Conrad could feel Lamont's hands from behind him, fingers just brushing against his sides before settling for the moment against Conrad's hips. Even as Luce kissed him the man reached for Conrad's cock, the gesture nothing if not possessive. When he stroked once it was not for Conrad's pleasure, but because Conrad was his and he wanted Conrad to know it, wanted Lamont to know it as well. It was like telling Lamont that he could touch this, certainly, could finally dip into that well Luce had guarded jealously for himself, but that Luce didn't share. This was all Lamont would ever get.

Luce broke away, shifting higher, and Lamont's hands on Conrad guided him down. Conrad found himself on level with Luce's erection, spared a thought for the fact that neither Luce nor Lamont had plainly told him what this was. He'd pout at the thought, hating when they talked over his head. He was not so much a child that Luce couldn't just tell him Luce wanted a threesome. He wondered if it meant he was just not worth convincing, that Luce would not even tell him he'd love it and that he should trust him. He wondered if it meant Luce already knew that he couldn't say no.

Maybe neither of them was talking to Conrad, not reassurance nor dirty words, and maybe it was a little too easy for Conrad to accept the implied command. His mouth slid over the head of Luce's cock, lips stretched just wide enough to admit. The motion was too familiar, Conrad's head bobbing down as far as he could bear before drawing back, his bottom row of teeth scraping along the length of Luce's erection as he did. He didn't even need to hear the low gasp from Luce. He could feel it even without the sound. Good. He liked it too much, knowing he could affect the man above him in any way, even this.

Conrad's tongue swirled around the head and he bit, sharply, knowing the gasp was coming then and that Luce would try and jerk his hips forward into Conrad's mouth. Luce didn't even choke him any more, because Conrad knew it was coming. Lamont's hands on his back were only a distraction, the gentle trace of the man's fingers too kind for Conrad's concern. Conrad eased off every time Luce's cock tried to press the back of his mouth, his throat, because he still couldn't do that. He still couldn't relax enough, not with Luce's half-lidded eyes looking down at him and the pressure firmly on. He couldn't bear to be a disappointment.

When Lamont's hands caught under Conrad's arms he was forced to pay attention, almost breaking stride from the persistent attentions he was paying to Luce's cock. But it was Lamont, who was always kind to him, always the steady reassurance, and when Lamont drew Conrad's arms back Conrad let him. Conrad managed to continue the bob of his head, the suction, the scrape of teeth to a pressure he knew Luce liked so well. And then he felt something that was not Lamont's hands, the whisper of the silk rope as Lamont bound it about his wrists with sure motions. Conrad made a strained sound around his mouthful but Luce's hand moved to the back of his head and Conrad knew that he couldn't ease off long enough to ask what this was.

Lamont's movements continued, and Conrad realized, for all that he was trying to just focus on Luce and not worry, not panic, he realized that Lamont was binding his arms to his body. He imagined, from what attention he paid, that the knotwork would be lovely, artistic, and he wondered that Lamont would have skill with that sort of thing. He could feel Luce's fingers on his face, though, calling his attention back to the man whose cock he was sucking. He just bet Luce wasn't liking that Conrad's attention could wander while he was doing this, even if it was wandering to the matter of him being bound like a showpiece.

That part made Conrad nervous.

Conrad was not actually fond of being restrained, and was straining to remember if Luce should know this. Luce had to know this. Luce knew all of Conrad's insecurities, it felt like, so that sometimes Luce's words sounded like they were coming from the inside of Conrad's head. But Luce's dick was more sure silencer than any gag. A gag Conrad might have tried to spit free, might have tried to get out of, might have refused to permit in the first place. But Luce's cock fit in his mouth so that he would not reject it, so that Conrad swore he could recognize the flavor of Luce's skin against his tongue every time.

Lamont's hands were on Conrad's ass, then nudging his legs apart wider. It was not a position Luce favored often, but Conrad knew what was happening, oh he knew. He knew before there was even a slick finger at his entrance, before Lamont was pressing that digit inside. All of a sudden Lamont was not that trustworthy man Conrad knew, or the man behind Conrad touching him was not Lamont. Oh, Conrad knew Lamont liked him, or he fancied he did. He knew the attention from the Italian was something he would not relinquish, something which made him feel whole again when he was down on himself and just needed that wordless reassurance, that one calm touch. But Conrad had never actually entertained that Lamont would want to fuck him, not like Luce did.

Conrad just couldn't.

He thought that he'd like this, could hear Luce's voice in his head assuring him that it would be great. Luce and Lamont were the two people he trusted most in his life, trusted more than family because he knew his had never come through for him. But he didn't want Lamont to do it. Didn't want the finger calmly prepping him, reaching inside where before only Luce had ever touched. Conrad tried to do it himself, sometimes, but frequently left himself feeling bereft and only thinking of Luce. He couldn't even pull away, finding that Lamont's sure knotwork had placed ropes in places he'd never expected could restrict his movement so completely.

Conrad suspected that Luce had planned that part, never mind that they were Lamont's knots, it was always Luce that devised these traps for him.

In the middle of his panic, trying to squirm away from the fingers and the knots and the person he trusted so far but just /couldn't,/ Conrad finally jerked his gaze up at Luce. It almost hadn't occurred to him to try and ask Luce to make this better. If he were to speak, he'd address Lamont, stutter some apology and jerk away from those hands, just then he couldn't stop thinking about those hands. It was far harder to ask Luce, to try and convey that he /couldn't do this,/ he just couldn't do this right then, please, why had he even thought this was a good idea?

Luce looked down at him, hand on his face, somehow both a threat that Conrad was not to stop while also being a reassurance. And then Lamont's hand slid free of him.

"Doan' worry Connie," Luce crooned, in a way that made his hot lust almost soothing. "Yeh should know Aye doan' share nearly tha' well."

For a moment Conrad only continued to look at him, and then his eyes spasmed wide, only taking that second to divine what Luce meant.

Luce jerked his hips back and only groaned at the scrape of Conrad's teeth, the two older men rotating around him in perfectly orchestrated arcs. The presence of Lamont's unfamiliar cock in his face after being slipped out of the man's boxers was so much less daunting with Luce's long-fingered hands gripping his hips with their usual bruising force. He didn't mind allowing his mouth to slip back open and slide around Lamont, because Luce was the one pressing him forward, urging it. He had to remember for a second that this wasn't Luce, he probably shouldn't bite, it was Lamont and this was different. But then Luce shoved into him, and he almost bit down anyway.

Conrad's world narrowed. Mostly it was Luce's presence. He was used to the feel of Luce's cock, no longer quite an invasion, Luce bending him forward into Lamont so that the angle could be altered just so. Luce always managed to hit that spot inside, reading Conrad's body the way Conrad's paranoid delusions sometimes suggested he read Conrad's mind. Luce's long fingers moved from Conrad's hip to his cock, grasping tight. His strokes were swift, sure, almost brutal and almost perfectly in time with Luce's thrusts. Luce always got the timing right by the end. If Conrad could have spared the thought he might have worried about Lamont, about the fact that his mouth was more relaxed than when it was Luce he was sucking save for when he would take a shock from Luce's actions and clamp down harder, cheeks hollowing.

Conrad rocked forward with each of Luce's thrusts, his actions with his mouth becoming as rhythmic and concerted as those of Luce's hand around him. He could hear Lamont groaning, a far different sound than the more abortive noises Luce made, his mouth right by Conrad's ear so that Conrad focused on those moans, the tight need from Luce reading clearly to his ears. He could feel himself trying to rock back into Luce, unable to stop his body from trying to take it deeper even as he'd want to arch forward into Luce's hand every time the man tugged.

"Doan' yeh wish yeh could see yerself, Connie?" Luce muttered, low and almost vicious in his ear. "Yeh'd know Ah'm not lettin' yeh outta th' palm uv my hand."

With Luce's palm braced against his cock, stroking quickly, it was easy for Conrad to accept the literal meaning, to pray that Luce wouldn't, at least not before he came. But the other implication made his heart flutter, that he really could stay here, with the both of them, and that Luce quite literally wouldn't let him leave. Conrad rolled his eyes up to Lamont then, able to see the man's face etched with a pleasure Conrad had never before known. Lamont was always suave and calm in Conrad's company, offering quiet comments when Luce was being too loud or too pushy and yet able to level cutting remarks just as sharp as Luce did. It was almost mystifying to see the man undone, to see the tightening of the muscles as Lamont almost grimaced, as his eyes squinched momentarily shut.

Conrad knew that Lamont was going to come in his mouth, and he knew just as firmly that Luce wasn't going to let Conrad yank back, might even have told Lamont to make sure to ensure Conrad did not release his cock too soon. He swallowed convulsively, still watching Lamont, focusing on the face that he knew so well instead of the taste or the sensation of hot fluid hitting the back of his throat. He imagined Luce was enjoying watching, from just behind him, enjoying knowing that Conrad would do this for someone other than him, but clearly only because Luce had bid it happen.

"Come fer me, Connie."

Conrad didn't know why it worked. He suspected sometimes that Luce could just tell when he was that precious close, on the edge, overwhelmed by the myriad sensations all over again and prone to accepting the suggestion. But other times he remembered things his therapists had said, about people giving themselves keywords, programming them, for help in coping with things. Words that could relax them, moderate their breathing, affect their physical responses through repetition and careful training of their reactions. He wondered if maybe Luce had done this to him without his knowledge, so that only the words in Luce's low, rough voice would cause Conrad to see white, light spangling his vision, pulsing over Luce's hand as the coveted pleasure of his orgasm overwhelmed.

While he was coming, Conrad's mouth slackened and Lamont slipped back, tucking himself into his boxers in a sort of automatic reaction. But Luce wasn't done, Luce was never done until he was satisfied, until he had drained Conrad completely for his explicit pleasure. Conrad was used to this being driven further, to stimulation that bordered on painful because he was just that oversensitive right then. But this time, unlike any other, he was able to watch Lamont as Luce drove into him quicker, watch Lamont observing this interaction between their bodies. Lamont had a sort of sated look on his face, yes, but Conrad could tell even then that there was also a calculated slant to his gaze, Lamont watching the way Luce held onto Conrad as his hips moved, one arm wrapped around Conrad's front and braced against his chest, keeping Conrad as close as possible while still moving.

Conrad didn't know what Lamont was judging. He didn't want to know. He didn't care what Lamont thought he looked like just then – for once in his life he really didn't care about a judgment on his appearance – because Luce's hands were sure and while he almost hurt it was still overwhelmingly /good./ And he knew exactly when Luce came, he always did, from the sensations yes but the superstitious part of him always felt as if it was overwhelming him as much as it overwhelmed Luce, even when he was already done.

"Tha's my pup," Luce murmured, at the end of his last moan, so that Conrad suspected Lamont didn't hear.

He felt warm inside, in his gut where it seemed like the heat was pooling, and even when Luce pulled back from him Luce didn't even let him go. Conrad could feel all of the ropes beginning to chafe, no matter how soft the silk, and all of a sudden he really needed to get out of the restraints. He'd been able to forget them for a while, held in thrall by what he was participating in. But now his skin was crawling at the thought that he was caught, really caught, if Luce didn't deign to let him free.

Lamont moved to start untying his work, but Luce waved him off with a lazy hand. Instead Lamont sat back on the bed, bracing himself on his arms, and watched with equally lazy eyes as Luce's fingers turned to the things he had wrought. Conrad could feel the man's fingertips brushing against his flesh, still flushed and vaguely tender-feeling, the knots coming undone as Luce's precision worked over them. It wasn't so many actual ties, he realized as the thing was undone. Lamont really had been efficient with the bindings.

When Luce was done, Conrad sank back against him, fully expecting the man to maybe lay him down on the mattress, anything save for allowing him to stay there. But instead Luce's fingers caught him tight and he could still feel the man's body heat, feel their bodies sliding slightly against each other where Conrad was sweaty from the exertion. Conrad looked up at Luce, confused, and swore he saw the exact same calculating look that had been in Lamont's eyes. He didn't know what it meant.

"Cuddle with Mont, kiddo," Luce said after a few more moments, scrounging up his usual distaste for Conrad initiating such things. "'E's th' big fuckin' teddy bear."

After that Luce pulled away from him, moving to put his legs over the edge of the bed. Conrad wanted to protest, felt like he was losing something just then, but was sore in places he hadn't realized and didn't have the energy to complain. And then Lamont was behind him, the steady hands far more welcome then. Conrad sagged against Lamont's chest instead, his head mimicking Luce's voice telling him that he would love it, and his heart echoing dully that he'd like it better if he knew why Luce needed these things to happen.