“Not too fast, Marcos,” he soothes, when my breathing picks up in time with my hand. I slow down—all autonomy gone in the wake of that voice and how good I feel right now. “I’ve thought about you this week. About the way you sound when you’re trying to make no noise at all; the way you felt in my mouth. I’ve thought about doing that again, but in the light.”
“Fuck,” I mumble, back arching off the bed as I dig my heels into the mattress. It doesn’t matter how hard or fast I’m jerking myself right now—I’m going to come soon, coaxed along by every word he says.
“I thought about how hard you tried to hold yourself back. The way your thighs shook; the way you tasted when you finally let go. I thought about doing it again and again and again.”
Without Nate to tell me to slow down, I’ve picked up speed until I’m working myself at an almost punishing rate. He’s panting in my ear, and my fingers are aching where I’m holding the phone tighter than necessary. I think about the way his hands had felt on the bare skin of my thighs as I come, biting my lip so hard I can taste blood.
His breathing becomes choppy and sporadic, and I wish I could say anything half as erotic as the words he whispered to me. Instead, I give myself a final few strokes as I listen to the muffled sounds of him coming. Any embarrassment I felt at the beginning is long gone, leaving only comfort and a deep relaxation in its wake. Sitting up, I walk to the bathroom to wash my hands, propping the phone between my ear and shoulder so I don’t miss anything from Nate.
I take a moment to listen for Max, thankful when I’m met with nothing but silence. Nate is quiet, his continued presence on the other end of the phone evident only by the soft, panting breaths as he comes down from his orgasm. I drop the phone only long enough to slide into bed and roll back into the fetal position. I’m pleasantly tired all of a sudden, and feeling more than a little fond of Nate. Also, a little ashamed of my phone-sex game.
“Nate?”
He breathes in at the sound of his name. “Yeah?”
“Sorry I’m bad at phone sex.” He laughs, the sound explosive and far louder than anything else we’ve done tonight. I almost smile to hear it.
“What the hell are you talking about? You’re great at phone sex. I just painted my ceiling with cum.”
“Okay, that’s disgusting.” I scrunch up my nose as he laughs again. “Seriously, though, you’re really good at that.”
“I was just talking. It wasn’t hard. Pretty much just told you all the things I’ve been fantasizing about all week.”
“Mm,” I hum, tendrils of awkwardness creeping over me once more. I’m way out of my depth here.
“Tired, now,” he mumbles, shifting around in his sheets. The thought of him curled up in bed has heat of a different kind coiling warm in my stomach.
“Me too,” I agree, and I really am. I feel relaxed enough to sleep until morning, a phenomenon so rare these days it makes my throat feel tight.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he promises.
“Yeah, maybe. Thanks for…calling.” Great, now I’m thanking him for the phone-sex performance. I bite my lip to keep any other stupid shit from coming out.
I hang up, and on a whim, climb out of bed and creep back down the hall to Max’s door. I sit there for a few minutes, listening, relieved when I can hear the soft pattern of his breathing. He’s asleep.
When I get back into bed, I check my phone again before plugging it in and placing it on the nightstand. Tomorrow, I need to talk to Max about Luke again. Maybe talk to Luke, too, if I can manage it. Nate, definitely. He hardly knows me, and it’s not fair for me to be leading him on. I’m not the kind of person who gets to be with someone like him. I’m antisocial, uncommunicative, and I don’t like being touched. I let someone hurt the one person in the world I truly love.
No. Nate deserves far better than what he’ll find with me, and I need to make sure he knows it.
5
Nate
Nate
Good morning!
I textMarcos the first thing in the morning when I wake up at six for weight training, which is probably embarrassing. I don’t care, though. People don’t get what they want by playing games or not saying things they want to say, and I want Marcos. I probably shouldn’t, since I barely know the guy and he’s clearly pretty hesitant about me, but I know I’ll regret it if I let him pass me by. So, late night wank sessions and early morning texts it is.
When he hasn’t replied by the time I get to the gym, I tuck my phone into my locker and tell myself it’s because he’s sleeping in and not because he’s ignoring me. There aren’t a lot of people here yet this morning, although I see Vas over on the leg press, so I decide to start there. I love him.
“Morning, Vas,” I greet him as I walk up. He beams at me, like nothing makes him happier than my presence.
“My friend, how are we this morning?”
“Good, good. Mind if I join you?”
“Certainly not,” he says magnanimously, still smiling. Most people prefer to work out alone—pop in earbuds and do their thing. I, on the other hand, am a social creature and would prefer to have the option to chat. How lucky for me that I’ve got Vas here this morning—too polite to tell me to fuck off—instead of Micky, who would simply ignore me.
