Archive of Our Own ^beta

Absently, Anton notices his fingers grasping the bedsheet. He calls up all of his acting class knowledge. Relax, they said. Let yourself feel it. He focuses on his teachers' advice as a dainty, gloved fingertip gently circles his asshole. He's open, exposed, as a pair of bigger, rougher hands stretch his cheeks apart. He allows himself to feel all of the fear coursing through his body as that finger gently slides past, but his body fights against it. He bites his lip, tries to fight back but it's no use as his hole shuts of its own accord. He has to let her in. That's the whole point. But he makes a mental note of the feeling: he can use it. Somehow, he will find the courage, the trust, to allow her in. Everything depends on it.

He feels the second set of blunt fingertips brush through his hair, rubbing over the scalp soothingly. "Anna. What does Jacob need from you right now?" The voice sounds far away.

There's only a slight hesitation before he feels a delicate hand wrap around his half-hard cock. She squeezes and it's delicious. Impossibly soft lips press against his ass as the finger strokes his puckered hole gently. "Shhh... You're doing very, very well." That knowledge in itself makes something within him unclench and suddenly half the finger has slid into him. A whimper escapes his lips and he's held closer to the soft, brightly-clothed belly in front of him.

"Go with it, guys."

Another slide and her finger is totally sheathed, alternating kisses and nibbles against his ass and thigh. Anton is focused too intently to hear Drake's next direction, but a sudden torrent of pleasure overwhelms him, making him cry out in shock. Brand new sensations dance over his synapses and he makes a note of this too, of her making him feel something he's never felt before, something scary but wonderful. She giggles and does it again. Soon his body is relaxed, his swollen cock swaying gently under his belly.

"Oh, fuck." He could have sworn he was going to say something more substantial than that, but he'll just roll with it.

"I do believe that is my objective this evening, isn't it?" It's the first time she's spoken since they began and he's struck by how husky her voice has become. He tries to take an acting note from it but all he can do is keep bucking against her, letting unexpected sounds pour from deep in his chest. He's dimly aware that such sounds may be quite embarrassing were he in any other profession.

He whimpers as the fingers gently withdraw, followed by a quick kiss on the butt that makes him smile and laugh a little. He hears some rustling and assumes she's putting it on now, but then there's the spread of latex, followed by something thick and squirmy and -

"Fuck!" He's too engaged to give a fuck about eloquence now, hoping the tone of his voice and the goosebumps rising across his skin convey the intensity of what he's feeling. He somehow manages to rub two brain cells together, realizing how very Jacob-like this hope is.

Anton has no idea what Anna's doing with her tongue (and at what point in this exercise did she become Anna?), but it's diligent, aggressive, and surprisingly strong sliding into his lubed hole. He moans and feels the belly he's squirming on rise and fall faster.

"That's... perfect," the director breathes, continuing to stroke Anton's hair. "Keep going guys."

She takes in hand the pink apparatus the two of them picked out earlier that day. Anton had protested about the colour, but eventually acquiesced to her vigorous insistence, it being the Jacob thing to do. Now it bounces slightly where it's anchored at the juncture of her thighs. Even though the size is modest at best, Anton feels his stomach roll over. He's done his research, he reminds himself. He's prepared. But having the gist of what's going to happen and feeling confident are two different things. And confidence is the opposite of tonight's objective.

A beard strokes against his cheek and lips take his own as he feels his opening slowly breached. Every inch she takes is followed by a pull or two on his cock that makes him moan helplessly into the mouth against his. All he can do is hold on to his director and whimper and moan and shiver, and then the pushing stops. Two pairs of hands carress his skin as two pairs of lips kiss and whisper comfort and encouragement.

Just relax... I've got you...

Doing so, so good...

There's the slide of a zipper, and Drake's kisses become sloppier.

I'm so lucky, so lucky...

...My God, so fucking sexy like this...

Their words speak to the very core of him, setting him alight, but he only groans in response. What more can he do, as she moves inside of him? She sets ablaze every nerve ending her cock touches (and when did it become Anna's cock?). She fucks him slow, sweet, torturing him by giving him time to process every inch of sensation as she rolls her hips against his.

Soon, the speaking tapers off, giving way to a chorus of moans; three rhythms of laboured breathing; the steady wet sound of her dick sliding into his hole as it stretches wide to accept her. Gradually, groans turn to growls and he's fucking his hips back into her, impaling himself again and again, the slap of skin against skin resonating in the small room. She grips his hips, digging in sharp nails, fucking him with all the gusto of a girl who would leave a note on a cute boy's windshield. She's trying to say something. A couple of false starts, and then:

"Look at you! God, look at you taking all this cock. You -" She moans, starts again, moving her hand from his hip. "You love it, don't you? Yeah you do, you - shit - you fucking love my prick in your arse, take it, take my fucking prick you... you..."

Fuck, she's coming undone. She's touching herself and she's coming and Drake's hand is moving at blinding speed and it's all for him, it's all because of him it's all because of-

When he can open his eyes again, he sees her lying next to him. Apparently, they're in bed now, under the covers. She touches his cheek and smiles and it's beautiful. Stunning, actually. He smiles back, feeling Jacob tumble hopelessly, crazily into the feeling. He feels thick fingers in his hair and turns his head to smile at Drake.

"Welcome back, Jacob."

A week ago they were three strangers. Now, he feels totally safe, supported... loved? Maybe.

Wise men say only fools rush in, but they've all entered this journey together at breakneck speed. Stopping it now would be like turning back the tide.