Work Text:
The computer crashed again.
After an hour of plugging away at the god damned code, deleting and typing, erasing and creating over and over, Bandersnatch ran smoothly for five seconds, then turned to static. Of his own will he put his head in his hands, exhaling a hiss of air. 'Netflix,' whoever that was, sent him back to work on the game three hours ago, and the headway he made was no greater than it was before he knew someone from the future had been controlling him.
Rather than waiting for the commanding urge to destroy the set, to vandalize his desk, Stefan shut the system down and made for the lights. Sleep would do him good, and as he lay down on his bed, his controller seemed to agree; no message came through, no urgency to do something else. His father was out for a 'work issue,' but Stefan suspected he was actually getting away from his son and the house at the pub. Hard telling when he would be back. With the promise of a quiet night ahead, the dark-haired teen felt just a little of the stress evaporate.
It lasted for maybe five minutes. He lay with his eyes closed, trying earnestly to sleep, failing, getting more frustrated. When he thought it couldn't get worse, the controller stepped in, making his cheeks burn and hands itch to obey the urge. Masturbate.
Stefan hadn't done that in quite a while. Not since he was 15, at most. These days where he would rather sleep and numb himself to his emotions and memories took up most of his thoughts. Arousal had been out of the question for just as long. The situation was less than ideal.
"I can't–" Stefan cleared his throat, addressing the controller with his scratchy, whiny voice, "I-I can't...do it.. knowing you're watching."
For all the good it did he watched the ceiling, hoping for a display like he had on the system earlier. Nothing came, other than a redoubled urge to touch himself. The controller outright ignored his protest.
"God," Stefan grumbled, giving in, beginning to shimmy his joggers to halfway down his thighs. Mercifully he was urged to sit up and lean over to fetch his body lotion from his nightstand, setting it beside him. Now it was just up to the act.
How did he do it before? Stefan couldn't even remember what he liked, and the pressure from the controller didn't make it easier. Uncertain, he pressed his palm against the outline of his sex in his briefs, rubbing up and down. It felt silly to watch. It felt silly knowing someone else was watching, the way they'd already watched everything he'd done. No point in resisting.
The Brit forced his eyes shut, buying in to the need, working up an image in his head to get him going. Girls on cars. Suggestive dancing. The newscast lady that came on at 9...
Stefan's dark brows knit together, mumbling a few choice swears as even that failed to arouse much. Almost angrily he shucked off his briefs, taking hold of himself with one hand and gathering lotion in the other.
Think about Colin.
"Colin?" Stefan jolted as the thought entered his head. Strings of protests died on his tongue before he could voice them. The one controlling the little choices he made knew everything about him, if it was to be believed. They knew the kind of feelings Colin brought up by now.
Damn them.
And hell, it did work. His cock twitched to life in his hand thinking of Colin's rare smiles, the long-suffering looks they shared when Thakur just didn't seem to 'get' a creator's mind. Colin 'got' him. Colin always knew what to say.
Once or twice Stefan got caught watching Colin, eyes alight with admiration, with delight at his mere existence. Colin had responded the second time by looking the raggedy teen up and down, puffing a cloud of smoke from puckered lips and turning back to his system. Stefan missed his stop twice on the bus that afternoon, his head was so clouded with the image of Colin's lips and his eyes and his slender fingers gliding on the keyboard.
Eyes closed, Stefan could picture the same strong hands touching him now, working his cock, all slick from lotion and achingly hard. The young man whimpered aloud, feeling warm and shivery and so good as he thought of those lips against him. Brushing his thighs. Kissing circles onto the head of his dick with that smug smile of his, knowing how it made his head spin.
"Colin," Stefan murmured between breathless moans. His left hand stroked fast, now, stopping only to massage the sensitive side of the tip with two fingers, teasingly, like his idol would most certainly do – "Feel good, Stefan? When I rub right here? Oh, listen to yourself mewl, mate. You're putty in my hands." – drawing further desperate whining and pleading with Colin to please don't stop, oh God, it's so good Colin, he's so close, don't stop, oh fuck don't stop!
Stefan cried out as he came, whimpering Colin's name along a string of oh's and ahh's. Ropes of his spend painted his stomach and hand, which continued to work him through his orgasm with long strokes, milking the high until the tension left his body; until his cock began to soften and finished leaking hot cum.
Panting, Stefan lay back. Sweat trickled in rivulets down his temple.
Contentedly, he agreed aloud with his audience: "Good choice."