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The problem is Charlie and Schlatt. And isn't it always them, in a way? Ankle deep in the same bit as always, oh, isn't Ted just such a bad guy, and Schlatt's lips are curled up like he wants the deep end. Ted's pulse thrums through his entire body.
It all rests on Charlie: his sanity, the bit, the dignity of his entire self. Charlie spends a single moment looking at his monitor, at Ted, before following his lead and quirking a dangerous lip. "You are about two inches away from calling him a bad boy on camera, Schlatt. Just FYI."
His mouth opens without prompting, spouting words because if he hears the same bit again, he'll cry. Which- it opens up too many possible conversations, "Dude, I mean this in the least troubling way possible, but ever since you two started that bit, it's been keeping me up at night. Like I-"
There's never any calm before the storm with Schlatt; there is only the storm. "Oh, yeah? You fuckin- you think about us at night? You're all hot and heavy and crying for it, and you're thinking about us?"
It's a bit; it's always been a bit. Schlatt likes attention and getting under his skin, and it works so well. His eyes start to sting as he shifts in his chair, looking to Charlie for any way out of the bit because his tongue is a little too heavy in his mouth right now, and he can't focus.
It would have been so much easier if they were still doing the podcast over Discord where he doesn't have to sit in front of his friends, walking a tightrope of arousal and humiliation. If he didn't have the both of them pausing too long to be normal before Charlie clears his throat, "A bit concerning that you included crying in your version of sex, Schlatt," and the bit ends.
He still feels high and confused when they wrap up and break out the pot. Even being the closest to a pothead of the three of them, he doesn't really smoke weed that much. But they've all get a bit of a glaze in their eyes and he finally fully relaxes, sinking into where he's got his feet propped up on the couch with his back leaning against Charlie.
"We didn't cross a line on the podcast today," Charlie sounds worried, but he still taps the back of his head, "Right?"
Ted hums, pressing back into the hand, "nah, I get the bit."
"You sure?" Schlatt drops onto Ted's feet before he has time to process his intent to sit on the couch. "You looked like you were about to cry."
The strung-out feeling creeps back, settling into the back of his teeth alongside his molars. Like fingers pushing his mouth open, "I'm sure, it's not a big thing."
Something- Charlie shifts behind him, and he drops like a stone into his lap, letting gravity dictate his course. Charlie just throws a lazy arm over his chest and pats his head with the other.
Ted hides a grin, catboy Charlie.
"Okay, so why the tears?" a hand hits his knee and rests there, and it's clearly Schlatt's, but he's too busy letting the weed focus his gaze on Charlie's intent look of concentration as he traces his face with his fingers, little circles across his forehead, over his cheekbones, the softest accidental touch of his pinky finger to his lips. He quiets his breath, trying not to spook him and ruin the moment.
"I don't know Schlatt. They weren't bad tears if you're so worried." that's vague enough, he supposes, sufficient to placate any questions but not enough to reveal any weird shit.
"Oh, so you were about to cry happy tears because we ripped at you for being a piece of shit?" his pinky touches his lips again, another soft brush. He can feel his breath touchdown for a moment before it's gone. Schlatt's thumb traces circles on the inside of his knee. He's really unopposed to that. Well, he definitely is a piece of shit. At least that internal debate can stop.
The moment where they put it together is both quick and very hard to see.
Someone laughs, and he's sure it's at him though he doesn't really know why. Schlatt has both his hands on his knees now, and it's nothing at all, but it's so good, and maybe he wriggles a little downward and relaxes them a bit more where they're bent at right angles. He's rewarded when Schlatt squeezes a little moving minisculely up. Were his hands always this big? Had he always been this huge?
"Good boy." Schlatt's voice carries the beginning of a laugh with it like he's preparing for it to all be a joke, ready to call it all off at the hint of denial. Ted watches Charlie's eyes dilate as he lets his breath carry the faintest sound of approval with it on the way out. Too purposeful to be a moan. Too clear to be an accident.
"Oh," Charlie breathes, the fingers on his face migrate to his jaw, his throat. Calloused and soft and real, tracing around his mouth. Ever the tactile learner, "so, is it the praise or the degradation for you?"
He drops his head back, staring at the ceiling, "with the sparkle emojis?"
They all laugh together because what else are you supposed to do when things have just gotten so intense? But Charlie's hand stutters on his face while Schlatt holds his legs like he might crumble to salt under him, and he kinda wants to see it happen.
"Both." and everything is so much, so he goes to throw an elbow over his eyes.
Charlie catches it, holding his forearm above his face a few inches, "So if I told you not to hide your pretty face because I wanted to watch you cry, you'd be a fan?" and he's smiling, but it feels like he has teeth at his neck.
Ted nods, his eyes darting to make and break eye contact as quickly as possible. God, he'd forgotten that he even had arms. He wiggles the fingers on his other hand just in time for Schlatt to lean over and gently take his wrist in hand. The message clear; don't move, and I won't squeeze.
How hard would Schlatt squeeze?
A phone drops to the floor, and Charlie's other hand starts carding through his hair. He tsks. "Schlatt?"
The beginning of a bit is noticeable from a mile away, and Schlatt's voice grins around his ears, "Well, Charles, he didn't answer you, did he?" and then the hands are moving, and they're moving away and-
"No, no, I did. I do!" Ted catches Schlatt as he pulls back and leads his hand back to his leg. "I like it."
Charlie hums, and his hands return as well, nails scratching his scalp as he returns to his petting. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it?"
It's the tone, it's definitely the tone that gets him he thinks as tears build up behind his eyes. "No."
A chorus of "Good boy." rings out from both of them, and it's so much more than nothing. It burns through him, and he's way too turned on for a man who currently has no one touching his dick.
There's some rearranging that he doesn't really pay attention to. He's content to let them move him until he's leaning against Charlie's chest and the hands leave his face and hair, but he isn't going to complain because they instead dig into his hips where he hadn't even realized his desperate grinding into thin air. After all, "Good boys stay still, Teddy." Charlie's breath hits his ear, and he throws his head back onto his shoulder. He feels a tear slide off his face and into his ear.
"God, listen to him," Schlatt has both of his wrists pinned now, and he could fight to cover his mouth, but he really doesn't feel the need, "I bet he doesn't even realize he's bring loud."
And he tries to focus on his own voice, but someone is choking out broken moans, and there's a hand on his throat, just resting there, and god, he wants it closed. "Please."
"What do you want, Teddy bear?" and when did that start striking chords in his heart?
"Someone just," he's already having trouble forming coherent thoughts, much less sentences with hands moving and touching and holding him down and why is that so good? "fuckin' touch me."
Something about magic words: immediately Charlie's mouth is on his neck, and Schlatt has a hand around him, and all he can think is, "thank you thankyouthankyouohgod.”
There are moments of peace, he's sure, even though time gets a little lost in pleasure. Teeth at his neck turn to his jaw, and hands at his waist creep up under his shirt. It's not like his nipples are that sensitive, but with the way Charlie moves, there's no way he isn't getting the full benefit of Ted having no vocal shame anywhere near a bed.
"-oh my god, it's so fucked up. I wanna put one, hang on," Schlatt leans up and forward, the perfect slide of skin interrupted as Charlie moves to his shoulder, making room for Schlatt on his neck. It takes Ted far too long to realize they're talking about marks. He shivers at the thought of marks, and is harshly reminded that no one is touching his fucking dick.
"Schlatt, please," he whines, and Charlie's grin is wide against his collarbone.
"You're so fucking impatient," he threads his fingers in his hair and guides his head slightly sideways to give Schlatt better access to his throat, "for someone crying to be touched, you really don't do well with the concept of begging."
There is no way Charlie is playing fair, "I said please," Schlatt nips at his skin, and he yelps, "Please, I- please I've been good, I've been a good boy I want-" his breath is coming in gasps now, "I want to cum."
"Fair enough," Schlatt's voice cracks against his neck.
Charlie snickers at him, "I think that means you've been a good boy, then."
And Schlatt is maneuvering back almost sheepishly, taking Ted's shorts with him before a wicked grin takes over his face and he swallows him down in one go.
Ted, at this moment, is very aware that thrusting into someone's mouth is considered rude. Oops. Schlatt, who looks like he'd been expecting that reaction, just pulls off, digs his hands into his hips, and goes back to trying to extract his fucking soul through his dick.
His head hits Charlie's shoulder with a force that is definitely going to hurt tomorrow, and he gets one, maybe three moments, to just enjoy the warm wet heat of Schlatt's mouth.
Then, fingers prod at his mouth. He opens, obediently sucking them in, and the room gets much quieter, the sounds of spit and motion much easier to make out. "You're so fucking loud, Teddy," Charlie growls against his ear. But he must not mind all that much because Ted can feel when Schlatt readjusts for a better angle how hard he is, all pressed up against his back.
Ted's not in his brain when he cums, long past having decided that Charlie and Schlatt have everything under control. He gives himself a moment to melt, mold his body to their touch and just float.
Schlatt, who never waits for anything ever, collapses on top of him moments later. Nose scrunched up, Ted hums at him, "I'm doing that next time."
"You snooze you lose, Ted." Schlatt murmurs into his neck, "besides, I had a good view."
A snort sounds from behind and mostly underneath him, "You're such a sap."
Ted shifts, still ready to hop back in the game if need be, grinding into a damp spot on his back, "Wait, Charlie, when did you cum?"
The man in question chuckles and stretches, taking Ted along for the ride as he leans backward over the arm of the couch to pop his back, "is it weird to say I really like being crushed?"
It's hard to hide the smirk that stretches across his face, "nah."
"Same thing next week?" Schlatt jokes.
They all dissolve into chuckles.