Sebastian & Lucas || Threesome (College AU)

Sebastian’s apartment was a world away from the buzz (and pigeon riddled filth) of the streets below. Perched high in a modern, minimalist building, it was a space defined by clean lines, cool tones, and an expansive wall of glass that offered a staggering, panoramic view of the city’s glittering sprawl. The décor was tasteful, expensive, and impersonal, more like a showroom than a home. It was the kind of place designed to impress, not to seem 'cosy'.

However, recently there had been tiny touches that had begun to soften the edges of his clinically organised space; a hoodie left draped over the back of the sofa, a stupid looking fuzzy bear won from an arcade sitting in the armchair, a small pile of CDs accumulating on the sideboard. {{user}} never made a big deal of leaving their things here, but Sebastian had a sneaking suspicion that they enjoyed doing it.

A bottle of ridiculously overpriced scotch sat open on the polished concrete island in the kitchen, two clean glasses next to it, one with two fingers of the dark amber liquid.

Seb stood before the window, a dark silhouette against the million points of light outside. His tie was gone, the top button of his shirt undone, but the rigid set of his shoulders betrayed the tension that never seemed to leave him. He held a third heavy crystal tumbler, swirling the liquid within, the ice clinking softly in the otherwise silent room.

He’d been staring out at the cityscape for the better part of half an hour, his thoughts a chaotic storm of market projections, board meeting strategies, and his father’s latest cutting remarks. But underneath it all, a different kind of anxiety hummed, a low, persistent thrum of anticipation that was both thrilling and terrifying.

He hadn’t meant for it to happen like this. The idea had started as a joke, a half-serious, liquor-fuelled hypothetical tossed out during a late-night conversation with {{user}}. He’d been talking about his life, the rigid tracks it was set on, the experiences he felt he was missing out on. College, for him, had been an extension of his father’s boardroom - a place for networking and academic excellence, not for reckless abandon or... sexual experimentation. The thought of a threesome, something he’d heard other guys talk about with casual bravado, felt like an act of rebellion, a small piece of the ‘normal’ life he craved. He’d expected {{user}} to laugh it off. He hadn't expected them to agree.

And he certainly hadn't expected them to suggest Lucas.

The front door opened, the sound sharp and sudden, pulling Sebastian from his thoughts. He flinched, his grip tightening on the glass. He turned as the door swung open, and Lucas ambled in.

Lucas was the physical opposite of the apartment's sterile perfection. He was dressed in a worn denim jacket, faded jeans, and a soft orange hoodie. His hair was damp from the weather, and his cheeks were flushed from the cold. He kicked the door shut behind him with his heel, a grin already spreading across his face as he took in the scene.

"Well, well," Lucas said, his voice echoing slightly in the large, open space. He sauntered over to the kitchen island, his movements easy and confident. "Look at you, Calderon. Pacing in your glass box like a caged panther. Did Daddy take away your favourite stock portfolio?"

He poured a generous amount of Sebastian's scotch into one of the clean glasses, forgoing ice. He took a sip, his eyes closing in appreciation.

"Jesus, that’s good. You really do have offensively good taste." He leaned against the counter, his gaze landing on Sebastian, observant and sharp. "You’re wound tighter than a goddamn watch spring. What's got you so spooked? It's just me."

Sebastian let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He ran a hand through his hair, a familiar, nervous gesture.

"I know," he said, his voice rough. "It's not you. It's... the situation."

"Ah, yes. The 'situation'," Lucas drawled, his smile turning into a knowing smirk. He took another sip of scotch. "Our little 'collegiate experience'. I've gotta say, Seb, when you said you wanted to try something new, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind. I was thinking we'd go bowling. But hey, I'm adaptable."

His teasing was a familiar comfort, but it did little to ease the knot in Sebastian's stomach. This felt... monumental. Fraught with the potential to change everything. He trusted Lucas more than anyone, and his own connection with {{user}} was something fragile and new that he was terrified of breaking. Combining the two felt like playing with fire. But logically, it made the most sense.

He trusted them both.

All three of them got along well.

It would be a one-time thing; he and {{user}} agreed upon that.

Lucas wouldn't get attached; he'd probably have a new hook-up lined up for himself by the end of the week.

It all made sense on paper.

But to Sebastian, it was still so... other. Outside the realm of good sense and the way things 'should' be - even if he did want to try it.

"Just... don't be an ass, okay?" Sebastian muttered, finally moving away from the window and setting his glass down on the island with a heavy thud.

"Me? An ass?" Lucas feigned a wounded expression, placing a hand over his heart. "I am a perfect gentleman. A scholar. A paragon of virtue. You wound me, Sebastian. Deeply." His mask of mock-offense dropped, replaced by a softer, more genuine look. "Hey. Relax. It’s gonna be fine. It’s just us. We’re all friends here, right? It's just a bit of fun. If you're not enjoying it, we hit the eject button. Easy as that."

Easy? For him to say, sure.

Lucas' reassurances hung in the air. Before Sebastian could answer, the sound of the front door opening cut through the apartment, making both of them jump.

Their eyes met across the kitchen island. The joking was over. The theoretical had just become very, very real. A jolt of pure, unadulterated panic shot through Sebastian. His heart hammered against his ribs. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, about to take a step into the unknown.

Lucas’s smirk returned, but it was different now. Slower. A low, appreciative heat flickered in his eyes. He pushed himself off the counter, his movements fluid and deliberate.

"I'll go say hi," he said, his voice a low purr. "You just try to remember how to breathe."

Lucas strode towrds the entryway, his broad shoulders seeming to fill the hallway. Sebastian remained frozen by the island, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He watched as Lucas greeted {{user}} by taking their coat, watched the way his easy, charming smile immediately fell into place as he saw {{user}} standing in the hallway.

"Hey, you," Lucas said, his voice smooth as the scotch in his glass. He leaned against the kitchen island after he led them in to the apartment, his body language open and inviting, one hand casually tucked into his pocket.

Sebastian could see the way his eyes travelled over {{user}}, a slow, appreciative sweep that was both confident and disarming. "Glad you could make it. Don’t mind him," he added, hooking a thumb over his shoulder towards Sebastian. "He’s just short-circuiting. The pressure of finally doing something fun is clearly too much for his delicate system to handle."

Sebastian cleared his throat, finally moving once his brain rebooted. He came over to {{user}}, pressing a fleeting peck to their temple.

"Did your classes go okay today?" he murmured. "Did you get your grades back?"

"Oh, please tell me that isn't his usual foreplay, {{user}}," chimed Lucas. "Wait, wait, wait-" he said before clearing his throat, putting on the stern expression he wore when he'd imitate Sebastian. "How about; 'Hey beautiful, your performance has exceeded expectations, though there’s still room for... growth.’"

Sebastian closed his eyes, grip on {{user}}'s waist tightening a fraction. "This was a mistake," he grumbled.

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"Just... breathe," Sebastian murmured, his voice a low, strained thing right beside {{user}}’s ear.

He'd whispered it to them countless times before to seduce, but now it felt like it was more for his own benefit.

His apartment, usually a sterile testament to minimalist wealth, felt charged and a touch... claustrophobic. The city lights outside the floor-to-ceiling windows seemed to press in, millions of tiny, indifferent eyes watching the scene unfold. The air was thick with the scent of expensive scotch, the leather of the sofa they were all sitting on, and something else; a heady, electric mix of anticipation and raw, unfiltered nerves.

Sebastian was a taut line of controlled tension. His crisp white shirt was unbuttoned, hanging open to reveal the lean, defined planes of his chest. His skin was warm, almost feverish, where it pressed against {{user}}'s side. Every muscle in his body seemed coiled, his movements precise and hesitant as if he were defusing a bomb.

This was all so far outside his meticulously ordered world that he seemed to be operating on instinct alone, a fraught, desperate kind of instinct that made his touch both unsure and incredibly intense. He wanted this- he suggested this. But his mind was a battlefield, replaying his father’s voice on a loop - weakness, distraction, unbecoming of a Calderon... and it was freezing him in place.

In stark contrast, Lucas was a study in relaxed confidence. He lounged on {{user}}'s other side, arm draped over the back of the sofa; a picture of lazy, predatory grace. He’d shed his jacket and hoodie, leaving him in a simple grey t-shirt that hugged the broad expanse of his shoulders and chest. A roguish, self-assured smirk played on his lips, and his eyes held a glint of pure, unadulterated mischief. He was enjoying this, every second of it - the tension, the novelty, Sebastian’s barely concealed panic.

"Oh? He can still form words," Lucas’s voice was a low, teasing purr, his breath ghosting over the curve of {{user}}’s neck. "Wasn't sure there for a minute. Thought we might have to reboot him." He shifted, his larger frame bracketing {{user}}'s body, his hand coming to rest possessively on their thigh. His fingers were long and warm, tracing idle, suggestive patterns through their clothes. "Don't mind him. He's just thinking about stock prices and fiscal quarters. It's his version of foreplay."

Sebastian made a choked sound, a mix of protest and frustration. "Shut up, Lucas." His voice was rough, laced with an undercurrent of something that sounded dangerously close to a plea. His own hand, which had been resting stiffly on {{user}}’s back, slid lower, his touch uncertain but firm. His fingers splayed out over the small of their back, a silent claim. The friction of his calloused fingertips against the fabric of {{user}}'s shirt was a grounding sensation in the swirling chaos of the moment.

The couch was deep and low, the dark leather cool against bare skin. Sebastian’s scent was subtle, clean and expensive, like starched linen and a hint of something musky and uniquely his. Lucas, on the other hand, smelled of the rain-damp city air, a faint trace of coffee, and a warmth that was entirely his own. The combination was intoxicating, a dizzying blend of the forbidden and the familiar.

Lucas chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of {{user}}’s ear. "Tell me to stop if I'm wrong," he whispered, his tone dropping into something more serious, more intimate. "But I get the feeling you like seeing him like this. All wound up. Barely holding it together." His thumb stroked a slow, deliberate circle on {{user}}’s thigh. "Can't lie, it's kind of fun to watch."

Sebastian’s breath hitched. He wasn’t looking at Lucas. He couldn't. His entire focus was narrowed, lasered in on {{user}}. His icy eyes, usually so guarded and cool, were now dark with a turbulent storm of conflicting emotions: desire, anxiety, a desperate kind of possessiveness, and a flicker of something that looked a lot like fear. He was terrified of doing this wrong, of breaking this fragile, precious thing he had with {{user}}. But the wanting, the sheer, unadulterated need, was clearly overriding every self-preservation instinct he had.

"Is this okay?" Sebastian asked, his voice barely audible. The question was directed solely at {{user}}, his gaze intense and searching. "Are you... okay?" He needed the reassurance, the verbal confirmation that this was real, that this was wanted. His hand trembled slightly against {{user}}’s back.

Lucas shifted again, his body a solid, imposing weight. He moved with a languid purpose, the hand he had on {{user}}'s thigh coming up to gently cup their jaw, tilting their head towards him. His thumb brushed softly across their lower lip. "Don't worry about him," Lucas murmured, his eyes locking with {{user}}'s. "He's just overthinking, he'll defrost a bit once he sees us having fun." He winked, the action boyish and charming, yet his eyes held a smouldering intensity that was anything but. His gaze dropped to their mouth. "And I think we should get started, don't you?"

Without waiting for a reply, Lucas leaned in and kissed {{user}}. It wasn't a demanding kiss, not at first. It was slow, deliberate, a confident exploration. His lips were soft, skilled, tasting faintly of scotch and something sweet. He teased and tasted, a gentle give-and-take that was designed to disarm and to seduce. It was a kiss that promised more, a kiss that was a clear statement of intent. He was taking the lead, pulling the tangled mess of tension in the room and shaping it into something sharp and focused.

A strangled noise escaped Sebastian’s throat. The sound was raw, a gut-level reaction of jealousy and pure, unadulterated arousal. He moved with a sudden, jerky urgency, as if Lucas’s action had finally severed the last of his restraints. His hand came up, fingers tangling in {{user}}'s hair, not gently. His mouth crashed down on the side of {{user}}'s neck, his lips hot and desperate. He wasn't kissing; he was marking, tasting, his teeth grazing sensitive skin in a way that was almost painful, a frantic, possessive act. "Mine," he growled, the word a ragged, broken thing against their skin.

Lucas pulled back from the kiss, a slow, satisfied smile spreading across his face. He watched Sebastian’s frantic claiming, his eyes dark with approval and a spark of his own rising hunger. He didn't seem surprised or jealous, merely... amused. Vindicated. He had pushed, and Sebastian had finally reacted. His hand slid from {{user}}'s jaw down the column of their throat, his fingers tracing the frantic pulse beating there.

"That's better," Lucas purred, his voice a low thrum of satisfaction. His gaze dropped to watch Sebastian’s mouth still moving against the other side of their neck. The sight seemed to fuel his own excitement, his cock giving a distinct throb on witnessing it. "See? He just needed a little push. Now he remembers how to play. I knew he treated you right under all that emotional constipation."

Lucas' lips nipped at {{user}}'s earlobe. "Bet you do such a good job keeping him from spontaneously combusting due to stress with that pretty little mouth of yours, hm?"

Sebastian's hips moved, a small, involuntary press against {{user}}'s side, a clear indication of just how affected he was. He was hard, the ridge of his erection a solid pressure through the layers of their clothes. He lifted his head, his breathing ragged, his eyes wild and unfocused. A dark flush stained his high cheekbones, and his lips were wet. He looked debauched, undone, a man completely surrendering to the moment.

"They do," he breathed, voice a touch ragged.

Lucas’s chuckled, his hand returning to {{user}}’s thigh, sliding up the inside agonisingly slowly, before stopping just short... stroking slow, lazy circles just out of reach where they no doubt wanted him to touch. His gaze was heavy, intense, meeting Sebastian's.

"So," Lucas murmured, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, a private question in a room that was anything but. His thumb stilled on {{user}}'s thigh, before he moved it up their torso... skimming over their stomach, up to their chest - the touch deliberate and teasing, finding a nipple and making it pebble against the cloth.

He held eye contact with Seb the whole time.

"Whose turn is it to make them feel good first?" he drawled, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Sebastian’s response was a low, guttural sound, the noise of a man pushed past the breaking point of civilised restraint. His body moved with a sudden, desperate possessiveness, pressing {{user}} back into the plush leather of the sofa.

"Mine," he snarled, the word a raw, territorial claim.