Work Text
“I fucking hate them. Imbeciles, the whole lot,” Reece mutters, scrolling his feed. The afternoon tea break is the only time Reece is allowed his phone, even though he’s fully aware it still gets on Steve’s nerves.
“Reece, dear, no one is forcing you to do Twitter. Especially if it annoys you so much,” Steve sighs, putting a grounding hand on Reece’s shoulder, and offering him his usual cup of tea. Even though he asks Steve not to, Reece thinks he’s still sneaking in sugar, the bastard. He will never admit he enjoys the sweeter taste more.
“Oh, but I can’t help it! These people are too stupid! ‘Why didn’t they do one in an airport?’ Again with this, cunts? And here, look, a petition for me to be on Taskmaster. 504 signatures. As if I will ever do that stupid show,” his scrolling thumb might as well be sending sparks of rage, but he can’t stop himself now, “Or this, listen to this – a tweet with 100k replies asking if you would, and I quote, ‘fuck a clone of yourself’. Can you believe it? Jesus, the absolute garbage these people have instead of brains…”
There’s a long pause, and when Reece finally lifts his head, he finds Steve absolutely unperturbed. His hand is still on Reece’s shoulder, the weight of it solid.
“Well, would you?” Steve asks, “if it’s such a stupid question.”
“Of course I wouldn’t! I’d be dealing with, you know, the horror of having a clone!” Reece puffs in indignation. “Trying to get help! Suing the local lab where it escaped from…”
Finally, Steve lets go, sits down next to Reece and grabs his tea. Watches him intently while taking small sips. Stays silent.
“What?” Reece asks, annoyed, because he knows Steve is resolutely
not
saying something.
Steve still watches him, lips pursed in amusement. Then smirks.
“You’re telling me you wouldn’t be even a little bit, a teeny tiny bit, well,
curious
about how you are in bed?”
“I fucking wouldn’t.”
“Well, I would.”
“Huh?”
“I would definitely fuck a clone of myself,” Steve says, with a nonchalant shrug. Like it’s the most obvious answer. Like he’s thought about it before.
“Why on earth…” Reece swallows, and he can’t help that it comes out a bit breathless.
“I think I’d be a good lay,” Steve explains, as if he’s talking about the weather, “You know I’m an attentive and generous lover. And I know what makes me feel good. Why wouldn’t I enjoy myself?”
“Ugh, just shut up. We need to work, anyway,” Reece’s cheeks colour at the involuntarily images. He absolutely doesn’t want to hear any more of this nonsense. Not at all.
A bit too fast, Reece returns his attention to the computer. Points at the doc that Steve was editing on the screen.
“We have to finish this next bit today. You missed a comma here, or better, a clone- Colon! A colon,” Reece rushes to correct himself, and Steve chuckles.
“Slip of the tongue, huh?”
“Just type.”
* * *
It’s midnight, and Reece wakes up in the office. They must’ve ended up working late, and he’s fallen asleep there. Although he’s not in the armchair or on the tattered couch, but on a comfy king-size bed, and how on earth did it get there? There’s absolutely no space for it…
Reece’s still half-wondering about the bed as he sits up on his elbows. His eyes start to focus, and suddenly catch some movement in the corner. His pulse speeds up at once. No, is that…? It can’t be true.
There are two Steves in the room.
And they are kissing.
He really should freak out more — scream, call for help, feel horrified. But the fact that they’re snogging seems much more urgent now. Full on dirty French kissing too, eyes closed, really absorbed by each other. And both of them are shirtless, dad bods in full glory, holding and caressing one another in a way that makes the words “attentive” and “generous” spring up in Reece’s mind.
They don’t notice him, and that’s good, because he wants to watch them some more, physically can’t take his eyes off this strange and alluring vision. Reece can swear they looked identical at first, but as his eyes adjust to the darkness he suddenly sees that one has longer, whiter hair and glasses that make him look a bit like, what was he called… Blake? From the Trolley Problem. Why that episode? Reece’s brain is too fuzzy to come up with an explanation, he’s too intent on staring, trying to commit every detail of this private show to memory, lest they disappear as mysteriously as they appeared.
One moment they’re kissing, and the other Steve leans down to lick the side of Blake-Steve’s neck. His hand is stroking his twin’s hairy chest, his chubby tummy, and finally lands on the front of his trousers, starts palming him through the fabric. Blake-Steve reaches to reciprocate, gripping a bit more roughly, and now Reece can clearly see that both of them are hard and straining for each other, cocks rubbing against hands through a few layers, seeking friction.
And even though they’re still half-clothed, it’s the single most erotic thing Reece has ever seen.
He can’t help but press the side of his hand into his crotch, hissing from pleasure, as a half-moan, half-curse escapes him.
“Fucking hell, Steve.”
He could’ve sworn he said it internally, but they both turn to him. “Blake” smirks in a way that makes chills run down Reece’s spine. Ah, so he’s the evil twin. Steve’s always been frighteningly good at playing psychopaths, after all.
“Seems like we’re not alone,” the other Steve’s eyes soften with recognition. This Steve resembles his regular Steve, aged now but with the spirit of the one he met at Bretton Hall, who offered Reece his friendship with such ease and sincerity. It’s in the wide smile, in the same kindness and playfulness of his eyes – the features Reece has grown to love so deeply over the years.
They seem like they’re entirely different people – though they
are
the same person, and Reece feels dizzy, having no idea if it’s from confusion or arousal. Steve’s both himself and playing a character, which is a sight that Reece has always found fascinating and disturbing, and reminds him of the Apocalypse movie. Why didn’t they think to snog themselves in it?
“Well, well, well, what have we got here?” Evil Steve’s murmur did not bode well.
“Looks like it’s our boy, spying on us,” Good Steve says, coming up closer to him and stroking the side of Reece’s face in a familiar, caring gesture.
Evil Steve has moved to his side too, and he wastes no time – grips Reece’s head, “Was he now? Spying is not polite. We should teach him a lesson.”
He then yanks Reece up by the hair, eliciting a desperate yelp, and places him in front of the bed.
It’s painful and Reece is momentarily scared of what he’ll do next and how much more it will hurt, but Good Steve steps behind, as if spooning him, and reaches both his hands up to Reece’s front to slowly unbutton Reece’s shirt, and kiss the sensitive place behind his ear, the tender earlobe, the side of the jaw.
Reece is helpless when there’s two of him, crowding him, one so sweet and one so rough – still clutching him viciously and sneering at him. In the back of his mind, he’s always admired the ways Steve could transform so effortlessly from the most charming man into a despicable monster, and was scared that he desperately ached for him in both those forms.
But thinking about reasons was difficult when four hands were touching him all over.
“Such a pathetic little thing, aren’t you?
” Steve spits out, and Reece feels his disdain resonate in his bones, “jerking yourself raw in a corner, too ashamed to admit what you like, too afraid to ask for what you need.”
Anger swells up in him at once.
“Shut up! I wasn’t-” before he can finish the sentence, Reece gets a hard slap in the face that makes him wince and cry out in pain. Evil Steve’s sudden attack hurts, but his words sting deeper, they sound too much like Reece’s voice in his own head.
“You will not talk back at me,” Evil Steve’s tone makes deep fear swirl in Reece’s lower belly. He suddenly notices that Evil Steve’s accent turned German. His glasses are gone, his hair is gelled, he looks just like his Nazi character.
It takes Reece back to those years when they played the Escape from Colditz game over and over, and he desperately wanted Steve to tie him up and punish him – but was too shy to voice any of those extreme thoughts, instead choosing to be prisoner night after night, hoping Steve would get a hint. Steve was instead maniacally counting points and pondering the best winning strategy, to Reece’s immense frustration. So it’s a bit embarrassing how much Steve’s German accent still turns him on, a fantasy waiting to be fulfiled.
Meanwhile, Good Steve kisses his reddened cheek, soothing the skin. He’s done with the shirt, and gently takes it off, then starts massaging Reece’s stiff shoulders, trying to relax him.
Their entirely different attitude, like an alternating temperature shower, makes Reece’s head spin. It’s overwhelming how aroused he gets by it – knowing he’s getting a punishment and a reward in one, yet having no idea which will come next.
Good Steve sits down on the edge of the bed, and turns Reece around, starts to undo his trousers. Now Evil Steve is the one behind him. His warm breath makes the hairs on the back of Reece’s neck stand up, as he forcefully grips Reece’s hips and rubs himself against his ass, in a lewd and animalistic way. Reece can’t help but arch his back, chasing the feeling, knowing full well how that makes him look. But it’s impossible to resist when he’s getting undressed and fondled at the same time. He needs to feel how hard Steve gets for him. Both of them. Needs the proof of his desire, time and time again, to placate the worries in his mind.
“Look at him, he’s practically begging for us to stuff him,” Evil Steve says, then holds Reece’s neck to whisper right into his ear, “I’ll fuck you first.”
The implication that they might take turns and Reece has no say in it, makes him bite his lips to keep a moan in.
Evil Steve’s hands embrace him from behind and reach for his chest, taking handfuls of pecks, then pinch at his nipples, as Good Steve finally manages to take off Reece’s trousers and pants all the way, leaving him completely naked and vulnerable to do anything they want with him.
It’s so hot and scary and Reece struggles to see the edges of this fantasy, brain not functioning when it comes to dealing with the reality of it all. If it’s a fantasy, why does it feel so real? If it’s reality, how on earth is Steve doubled? He shouldn’t think about it too much not to shatter the illusion – the same applies to the mechanics of a magic trick.
Undeniably, having two of him is satisfying the deep longing he has for Steve. They’re groping him from all sides, soft fingertips, and hard nails scratching, not an inch of his body untouched. The attention is overwhelming, and he’s getting harder by the second. Not a day goes by that he doesn’t want Steve all around him – taking him, worshipping him, hurting him, loving him. No matter what is happening, overdosing on his Steve, craving so much of him that it suffocates everything in his life that isn’t Steve – fuck, he never knew how much he wanted two of him. And now he finally gets to indulge.
Lifting his hips, Good Steve gets rid of his own jeans and underwear too, scoots further on the bed to lay back on the pillows. He looks splendid like this, all chest hair and strong hands, a soft tummy and a hard dick against his thigh – the perfect picture of a handsome man. And he knows it too – lounging in the pillows without a care in the world, so sure of himself. His confidence has always been one of the most attractive traits to self-conscious little Reece who agonized over each imperfection. Steve seemed to be made from an entirely different dough. Those blue eyes of his were staring at Reece, unblinking, as he lazily pumped his cock, a teasing half-smile on his face that made Reece melt.
“Like what you see?” Steve asks, voice low, and Reece can’t hide how his cock twitches in response, like a dog perking up for his owner’s call, utterly mortifying.
“Did you swallow your tongue? Answer him,” Evil Steve growls in his ear, and Reece’s knees almost buckle up.
“Y-yes, sir,” Reece stutters, humiliated again, having no idea where
that
came from.
Steve strokes himself some more, eyes not once leaving Reece’s. It’s clear what he wants him to do, and Reece knows Steve adores it when he sucks him off. Reece does enjoy it too, having some power over him in that way, controlling and delaying the pleasure, but tonight he feels differently. He eagerly wants to be used, a mere object in their hands, to become their plaything with absolutely no control.
“Come on, that cock won’t suck itself,” Evil Steve snarls, as if reading his thoughts, and pushes Reece onto the bed, making him land on his hands and knees.
The forceful shove is painful, but Good Steve’s arms catch him and cradle him close for a moment. Good Steve sits up to give him a nice, languid kiss, full of tongue. It was probably meant to calm him down and relax him, but he can hear Evil Steve unbuckling his belt, getting rid of his jeans. He tries to concentrate on the kiss, but anticipation tingles in him as he can hear the cap of the lube opening. And fuck, Reece’s breath hitches as he gets manhandled, and a finger breaches him with no finesse.
“Shh, it’s all good, you’re good,” Good Steve’s words against his lips are reassuring and Reece tries to relax as forceful fingers stretch him and scissor him, getting him ready. He’s sure he looks like a debauched rag doll, half in the arms of one man, ass in the air, as another man prepares him – just holding this position is making his cock twitch.
Yet Steve is taking his damn time getting him ready, he's breath is heavy as he applies even more lube that drips down on Reece's balls. Anticipation is building inside of Reece, and his mouth goes dry with how much he wants Steve to bury every inch of his cock inside.
“Please, Steve,” Reece begs desperately despite himself, no shred of dignity left.
“I’ll fuck you when I want. Stop whining, put that mouth to good use,” Evil Steve commands, sounding genuinely annoyed.
Good Steve’s cock is right there, throbbing, leaking at the head, and fuck he looks gorgeous, so hard and ready for him. Reece is still propped on his forearms, so Good Steve gently guides it to Reece’s mouth, bumping it against the rosy lips and then sighs as Reece starts with shy kitten-licks and then swallows him deeper and deeper inside.
As he’s getting into it, really working all of his tricks on Steve, he suddenly feels Evil Steve pushing into him, and has to stop so as not to choke. Evil Steve doesn’t ask if he’s ready, sliding into the tight heat, nails digging into the soft flesh of Reece’s ass, and Reece moans against the other Steve's cock.
Good Steve’s fingers play with his wavy hair, his hand cups the neck and nudges him closer, his other hand still holding himself so it’s easier for Reece to swallow him down, and he looks like he’s handling a wild animal, careful yet insistent.
It’s an entirely different mood on the other end – Steve’s breaths are ragged, and thrusts are greedy as he gets deeper and deeper inside Reece.
It’s hot to feel Evil Steve’s fat cock pounding him so roughly from behind, while gentle hands are caressing his jaw and neck. He’s being lavished with words of praise as he tries to take Good Steve’s cock all in into his mouth, stuffing himself full of it.
Evil Steve is not gentle at all – he lets out a string of curses and grunts. And suddenly Reece becomes aware they’re not in the office any more. Instead their surroundings turn into a basement, with no windows or doors. Nothing exists except this bed and them on it, nothing will stop them from doing anything they want to him.
And indeed, Evil Steve is now fucking him slower but harder, each thrust from behind makes Reece choke on the cock in front, and he’s never felt as full or as satisfied.
“What a good boy, taking us both so well,” Good Steve murmurs after a particularly harsh thrust from Evil Steve, patting the sweaty hair out of Reece’s face, words soothing.
“Why are you so fucking gentle with him?” Evil Steve huffs through his movements. “Don’t you see he’s a slut? He loves to be used.”
And indeed, Reece’s crying a bit from the effort, tears running from the corners of his eyes, all blushing and sweaty, yet loving every second of it. He’s not angry at Evil Steve for calling him that, because he never wants it to stop. He can’t help but think that it was him who did something to make the room inescapable.
Those words change something in Good Steve's expression. He hesitates a little before gripping Reece’s head and letting himself go. He thrusts in, taking his pleasure in an indulgent way, enjoying the velvety heat of Reece’s mouth, picking up a relentless rhythm. Reece almost suffocates, trying to relax his throat even more and accommodate all of that delicious, hard length.
He didn’t expect Good Steve to be rough too, and it scares and excites him. Maybe he’s not as good as he appeared to be… What if he’s been tricked, and there are two Evil Steves? Right now they might as well be, as he’s being split in half, fucked to half death. It’s strange he never considered it in his countless fantasies about death – but it might be one of the best ways to go.
Without giving him room to breathe, Good Steve holds him tight as he fucks his mouth faster, working his hips. And soon enough with a choked-off moan he comes hard and fills Reece to the brim.
“Sorry, love, I couldn’t help it, you’re just too beautiful,” Good Steve apologises, as he wipes the come that’s running from the corner of Reece’s lips, but he doesn’t sound sorry. He sounds like the cat who got the cream.
Reece doesn’t get a break after that – as Evil Steve takes that exact moment to change the angle, propping one leg on the bed and furiously thrusts into him, the noise of lewd slaps filling the room. Reece is mewling for mercy he falls down into Good Steve’s lap.
There’s a pool of precome under him, yet the friction against the bed is not enough on his poor neglected cock. Every thrust of Evil Steve feels good against his prostate, yet he can’t come, getting more frustrated by the second.
Good Steve notices, of course he does. He squeezes Evil Steve’s hand for him to take a break, then lifts Reece up if he weighs nothing, another thing for which Reece has always admired him, and slides a bit lower on the bed, so he can accommodate Reece in a nice, caring embrace.
In a moment, he makes Reece open his mouth again and suck his fingers in, getting them nice and wet, and then urges him to lick the palm of his hand. Finally, he guides his hand between them to grip Reece’s cock, without breaking eye contact for one second. It’s intense as hell, and even though Evil Steve has momentarily stopped, Reece can barely breathe. He sloppily thrusts into Steve’s hand, with no finesse about it, as he’s trembling way too much, half-mad with the need to come.
“Shh, be patient, we’ve got all night,” Good Steve chuckles, and Reece wants to wipe that smirk off his smug face.
Evil Steve resumes his torturous thrusts with no warning, making Reece cry out in pain. And yet Reece needs that roughness of being fucked, and the gentleness of being caressed, needs to be suffocated in this sandwich of Steve, having nowhere to escape, loving him and hating him at the same time.
“Just like that, you’re doing good,” Good Steve murmurs, pressing wet kisses to Reece’s temple, holding him close, and jerking him far too lightly, making Reece even more frustrated than before.
Evil Steve is a machine, taking his pleasure, setting up a rhythm for them all. His nails will leave bruises that Reece anticipates grumbling about already, but he can't protest. Evil Steve could torture him and kill him, and Reece would only be able to say ‘Thank you’ and accept his deserved punishment.
“Such a dirty boy, you love this, huh?”
Reece can’t reply, too overwhelmed by it all, but he agrees, fuck, he is a little whore for Steve, always for Steve. He’ll do whatever the fuck they want, just to make himself feel like he belongs, just to know they’ll keep him around.
“A little, dirty, ah, whore,” Steve punctuates every word with a thrust straight to his prostate, and finally grunts in satisfaction as he comes inside Reece.
He’s filled with come, stretched and open, while Good Steve is stroking him well, and Reece doesn’t want it to end, but he’s almost there, almost… He doesn’t know whose hands embrace him by the middle then…
* * *
Steve’s hands are cradling him close.
“Hey, what were you dreaming of?”
Reece wakes up again – this time the light is seeping softly through the window. He immediately realises two things. One, they’re not at the office, but at home in their bed, Steve’s arms around him in a bear hug. And two, he’s painfully, achingly hard.
Steve, real Steve, is kissing the side of his face.
“Well? What got you so worked up, love? Tell me,” he mutters insistently, breath hot in Reece’s ear.
Reece feels his cheeks flaming. It’s so hot under the covers, but the blanket is not to blame.
“I won’t tell you, you’ll get an even bigger ego,” Reece tries to disentangle himself, like an unruly cat, but Steve keeps him in place.
“Come on, now I’m even more curious!”
As Reece struggles, Steve swiftly gets on top, immobilizing him with his thighs. Then secures his wrists over his head with one hand with zero effort.
“No, get off me, you absolute whale-”
Steve kisses the protests away, shutting Reece up and making him slowly melt, whole body going limp and malleable. When the whining dies down, Steve breaks off the kiss.
“Please? I want to know what turned you on that much,” to make a point Steve brings his other hand to the front of Reece’s pants, where he’s aching to be touched, a small precome stain indicating just how much. Steve gives him a light stroke, barely a tease, but it still makes Reece’s breath hitch. “So I can make it come true for you.”
“Won’t be possible!” Reece grumbles, tries to break away again. He should know by now that Steve’s hold is too strong.
“Try me. It’s been years, you know I’m open to pretty much anything,” Steve’s pleading blue eyes are absolutely irresistible.
Reece’s resolve crumbles. He knows Steve won’t let it go easily.
“There were… Two of you.” he mumbles, looking up at him through his eyelashes.
“What? Speak up.”
“Your clone. You were there with your clone.” Reece says a bit louder, so mortified to admitting it after he was so against the absolutely ridiculous idea. “You were both… Well,” he looks down, unable to meet Steve’s curious eyes any more.
Steve smiles that smug smile that Reece loves and hates in equal measures, because it reminds him of Pauline triumphing over Ross.
“You want two, huh? Can’t get enough of me?”
“It’s not fucking possible, so stop grinning! And either get on with it, or get off me,” he whines, as Steve continues his barely-there teasing.
“It is possible,” Steve says, contemplating, and kisses the side of Reece’s neck, making him squirm, “We can always blindfold you and I’ll play both roles. You know, I’ve been told I’m a very talented actor.”
Reece bucks his hips into Steve’s hand. What’s the point of having two of him, if even one is an awful tease? Two would actually kill him. One Steve,
his
Steve – both wonderful and terrible combined into one person – is more than enough.
“Really? And who, ah, who’s the cunt that told you?” Reece spits, whole body arching into Steve’s, seeking relief.
“You,” Steve smiles, making Reece groan.
Eventually, he does get on with it. But only eventually.