AN: This is the beginning of a project. Over on y!gal, I've signed up to do the 100 Themes. The idea is to write one hundred fics for one hundred different prompts. I have chosen to write them as one continuous story, but with the scenes arranged anachronistically. It's the what-if scenario where a fifteen year old Conrad Achenleck happened to meet a young Luce Worth still ensconced in medical school. There will be an awful lot of sex, since I enjoy writing those sorts of interactions, but also a lot of Conrad's fears and insecurities, and the ways that Luce tends to only make them worse. There will also be a good portion of Lamont, in the role of Conrad's confidant when he can't talk to Luce and can't talk to anyone else, and lover, when Conrad needs someone more sympathetic. I'm happy I'm sharing this scene first, as it's a pretty good peek into the dynamic these three are going to have. This takes place well into the relationship, when both Luce and Lamont have sexual relationships with Conrad, but there will be a number of scenes leading up to this... They're just sprinkled throughout the chapters still to come.

Long fucking author's note aside, Hanna is Not a Boy's Name still belongs to the marvelous Tessa Stone. I am not making any money and mean no offense. This AU is also not entirely mine, as I know people have presented this scenario before me. I just intend to be the one who does it the most in-depth, so brace your fucking selves.

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PSYCHOLOGY OF A HUMMINGBIRD

-by: Lira-

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.001. - "Love" - .Transfixed.

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Conrad had to nerve himself into swiping the extra key when Luce never offered to give him one to the apartment, had to talk himself into it for a week before he could do it. Luce never said a thing about the key going missing after it happened, and a part of Conrad suspected that Luce had been trying to get him to do it. That Luce wanted to know that Conrad liked spending time in the older male's company so much that he would freely steal just in order to extend that privilege.

It was because of the extra key that Conrad was there, just behind the door to Luce's room, his heart in his throat. He hadn't realized Luce would be home then, had been certain that there was a class Luce should have been in just then. He hadn't knocked because of this, had just let himself inside with his new key. Conrad had already come by Luce's apartment a few times since taking it, times when he knew Luce wouldn't be there. He'd let himself inside and went to Luce's room, curling up in the bed with the pillows and sheets that always smelled of Luce.

Luce discouraged Conrad from anything like cuddling, refused to touch Conrad unless Luce wanted something or Luce was getting something out of it. So Conrad had been coming by during that small window of time, to cuddle with Luce's cooled sheets. With Luce himself spread out on those sheets, Conrad couldn't do that, and with Conrad officially meant not to have a key, he couldn't even announce his presence to Luce. He couldn't back away, either, finding himself transfixed.

Luce's cock was out of his pants, his hand wrapped tight around it. Conrad could remember Luce's sure grip, a pressure on his cock so severe it almost hurt. He could imagine it just then, watching Luce, seeing Luce touch himself in almost the same way he touched Conrad. Except Luce was if anything crueler to himself, the motions of his hand abrupt and tense, forceful, as if Luce was determined to wring the orgasm from himself by any means necessary.

Conrad gave a little whimper, way in the back of his throat. He immediately clamped his hands over his mouth, but Luce didn't pause for a moment in what he was doing. Even then, Conrad could not feel relief. This was dangerous. Luce could be unpredictable and vindictive, as cruel to Conrad as he was just then in his masturbation. As much as Conrad wanted to take the few steps forward into the room, to approach Luce on the bed, touch him, leave his mouth at Luce's disposal, he also wanted to run away. Leave before Luce could make him leave forever.

Conrad's body had been trained by Luce, conditioned to respond to the older man's need. It meant that his cock was hard in his pants with a want to join Luce in what he was doing. Luce had noticed how easily he could get Conrad hard, and teased him mercilessly about being a hormonal teenage slut. Conrad always flushed red in response, colored up every time Luce said something vulgar or lewd, from embarrassment but also impotent anger, that Luce could say these things and Conrad could never say anything back.

Conrad let the hand not by the door press against the front of his pants, still too terrified to touch himself but coming close. Luce was still performing unknowingly, still thrusting his hips up into the tight circle of his fingers. But that was when Conrad heard the lock in the door click, and he thought he could hear the doorknob turning and the door sliding open. His heart jumped again and his hand clenched down against himself, but inside the bedroom Luce gave no indication that he had heard.

Conrad was unable to move away from his vantage point, unable to worry about an intruder in the apartment beyond that they would give his presence away. He could heart footfalls, near-silent, and then hands settled on his shoulders, moving lower to slide beneath Conrad's arms to hold him. The hands on his body settled comfortably, and Conrad could feel Lamont's warm body pressed behind him where they stood in the hall. Lamont leaned over Conrad's shoulder, peering into the room in order to get a glimpse of Luce.

"Is there a reason you're hiding out here?" Lamont asked, murmuring into Conrad's ear. "Did Luce tell you again that you make too many pathetic noises, and for you to convince him that you weren't here?"

Conrad shivered, hands coming up to wrap about Lamont's wrists. Luce hadn't done anything weird, and Conrad still felt that twinge of anger, that Lamont would insinuate these things were bad. The only thing wrong here was that Conrad couldn't go in there, shouldn't be in here, and that Lamont was going to get Luce to notice the both of them so Conrad wouldn't even get to see Luce finish. And then Luce and Lamont would get into yet another fight, and all Conrad would be able to do was watch helplessly when they started beating each other up.

"N-No," Conrad mumbled. "I just... I just c-came here to get something. I didn't think that... That he would be here."

Lamont didn't ask how Conrad had gotten inside; it seemed to be unspoken agreement between the three of them that Conrad now had a key, however he might have gotten it. Instead he shook his head gently, arms shifting to hold Conrad more tightly.

"And you didn't just go in and tell him you were here?" Lamont asked, sounding amused.

"I couldn't!" Conrad hissed, jerking against Lamont. "He's... Busy. I wasn't going to interrupt."

Lamont sighed, his breath ghosting against the back of Conrad's neck before his lips pressed gently to the soft skin there. "So you are trying to convince him that you aren't here, that you were never here."

Conrad sighed too, slumping within Lamont's embrace even as the breath on his neck made him shiver almost imperceptibly. He couldn't deny it because it was true; Conrad wanted a feeling of closeness with Luce and by observing without Luce knowing he was present, he could participate in a way Luce never allowed otherwise.

"You don't want me to let him know I'm here, do you Conrad?" Lamont asked, whispering right in Conrad's ear so he could be even quieter.

"N-No," Conrad sighed, practically holding his breath lest Lamont decide to deliberately ruin things.

"Do you like watching?" Lamont asked, voice low, coaxing. "You wanted to touch yourself when I came in?"

Conrad didn't know what to say, could say nothing. Lamont might love picking fights with Luce, or the other way around, but Lamont always seemed to know when something was bothering Conrad and never ever turned those times into fights. Conrad pressed back into Lamont's embrace even more, taking comfort from the strong arms that would not relent even as Lamont gently teased him. Conrad turned his head back and forth but it wasn't a denial; it was just his inability to tell Lamont that for him, it had been a private moment, being able to watch Luce like that.

"I can help you, Conrad." Lamont murmured. "Do you want me to? You don't have to."

Lamont was so kind, always giving Conrad the option to choose, and always stating what he wanted in plain terms. Not like Luce who liked to play head games, where he would tease Conrad and make him try and guess exactly what it was Luce wanted that time. Conrad could grab Lamont and hold on tight, even then, until the steady body provided him solace simply by contact.

"P-Please," Conrad whispered.

One of Lamont's hands moved downwards to the fly of Conrad's pants, unzipping and reaching inside. In the room just past them, Luce's hips were bucking steadily, in a way Conrad and Lamont both knew meant the man was close. And Lamont seemed to translate this practically, wrapping his fingers around Conrad's hard-on and stroking with swift, efficient movements. Conrad lifted one of his hands and fisted it into his mouth, to muffle any and all noises he might try to expel. Lamont's mouth was still beside Conrad's ear, licking lightly along the shell shape, taking the cartilage between his teeth and yanking gently.

Conrad would be moaning if he could, but as it was he just bit down on his knuckles harder, his hips already pressing him into Lamont's grip when they decided this wasn't going fast enough. Lamont complied, moving more quickly, pressing more kisses to the back of Conrad's neck while watching Luce in the room over Conrad's shoulder.

Conrad knew it was Lamont touching him, could recognize Lamont's broader, more callused touch. But in his head he was imagining it was Luce's hand on his cock, Luce's impossibly long, slender fingers working so deftly. Luce's touch was perfect, always the right amount of pressure, deliberately edging the grip right up against the edge that would be painful. Lamont's technique might not be as perfected, but he touched Conrad the way he spoke to Conrad – with respect and a fondness that couldn't be feigned. A desire to actually make Conrad feel good for his own sake, selflessly.

Despite this, Conrad pretended it was Luce, had to stop watching Luce in the other room for a minute so that he could better pretend it was Luce standing behind him. But still Lamont would whisper things to him, perfectly sweet things about how nice Conrad felt and how Lamont would like to hold him close for longer, about how Conrad's art reflected how much he cared about people, cared about Lamont. How much he cared about Luce.

And Conrad knew, in the back of his mind, that Lamont was indicating that Conrad cared more about Luce. That Conrad would pick Luce first every time, would come to Luce like a moth to flame for the rough touches that Luce bestowed when they were together. Conrad fixed his eyes back on Luce, curling forward like he was trying to protect his center, panting into his hand as he willed Lamont to move his hand faster, tighter. He bit down hard when he came.

In the other room, Luce was just finishing up, and Lamont could detect as much even if Conrad was too lost in orgasmic bliss to protect his voyeur-like status. Lamont wiped his hand off on Conrad's underpants and tucked Conrad back inside, pulling the zipper closed for Conrad. Carefully Lamont turned Conrad around, pulling them both away from Luce's bedroom door. But Conrad held on then, making sure to watch as Luce arced up from the bed and came hard across the sheets. He had to see it, had known he had to see it even if it had meant stuttering through an explanation to Luce later, as he'd thought when he'd first shown up.

Only then did Conrad allow Lamont to pull him from the apartment. They both stood in the hall, Conrad in pleasant shock and Lamont just watching him, with an expression that was open, but also appraising. Like Lamont was taking stock of Conrad's condition.

"It could have been someone else," Lamont said, like it pained him to point it out. "He might not have been alone."

Conrad knew this to be true, too, in a different subjugated part of his brain that could admit that Luce would happily sleep with people that weren't him, and wouldn't even tell him about it. Conrad knew that he still wasn't special enough to Luce, but that idealistic part of himself said that he could change this, if he was only determined enough. He couldn't accept what Lamont would offer, without using the words, every time. For Conrad it would be settling, if he passed up Luce for Lamont.

He couldn't, just couldn't; every time he picked Luce when he was only given the chance.

"I-It's never anyone else, for me," Conrad whispered, looking down. "I had to come."

It was a vague answer, but Lamont clearly understood. He nodded his head sorrowfully, accepting for yet another time that come tomorrow, Conrad would again be within Luce's grasp, rough touches coloring his flesh purple and blue. He then wrapped one arm around Conrad's shoulders, tugging Conrad to bump up against Lamont's side before they both strolled down the hall.