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“God,” he rasped.

Ash grinned, and the camera shifted for a second as Ash pulled his T-shirt off over his head in a smooth motion. He settled back on the couch and held the phone out again, his hand moving lower to rest back on his stomach. “Is that better?”

“Huh?”

“The shirt off, like last night. Is that better?” Ash repeated, still grinning.

With a groan, Cass nodded. “Oh, yeah, yes, very much. Very, very much.”

He closed his eyes, giving himself a second to breathe. His body screamed at him, probably louder and more insistently than it ever had before, and he was afraid he was finally losing the battle he’d been waging with himself since yesterday. He let his hand slip down another inch to the hem of his boxers, his swollen shaft throbbing for attention.

A light laugh came through the phone speaker, and Cass forced his eyes back open. Ash had shifted the camera to show mostly his face, his smile playful and lit up in a way Cass hadn’t seen from him.

“I’m enjoying this, if you can’t tell,” Ash said, and he pursed his lips together almost nervously and dipped his chin. “I’m not really sure why, but I am.” He lifted his eyes and met Cass’s gaze through the camera. “Do you want me to keep going?”

God, yes. That was Cass’s first immediate thought. He managed a nod but then coughed to clear his throat. “Yes,” he said, “as long as you understand exactly what you’re doing to me.”

Ash’s eyes seemed to darken, and he pulled the phone away, widening the camera view again. Cass could see his hand moving, drifting back and forth across his stomach slowly and deliberately. Ash angled the camera lower, and Cass held his breath as he watched Ash’s fingers graze along that narrow strip of hair and then run over the top edge of his sweatpants and down out of Cass’s view.

“What am I doing to you?” Ash asked, his voice now low and deep and with that teasing lilt to it.

With a groan, Cass pressed his palm into his stomach harder, still fighting against himself. “I think you know,” he hedged. His eyes dropped back to the lower half of the screen, and the most pathetic-sounding whimper escaped his lips. “Are you touching yourself?”

There was a light laugh. “Maybe. Do you want to see?”

“Please,” Cass begged.

The view shifted in a slow reveal that had Cass holding his breath again, his chest tight with anticipation. Ash’s hand moved at an unhurried pace as he stroked himself over the top of his sweatpants, his fingers loosely closed around his erection. Then his hand slipped under the clothing, out of Cass’s view, and Ash moaned softly.

“Jesus.” Cass inhaled a ragged breath, his fingertips finally inching under his boxers. His eyes stayed glued to the phone screen as he watched the outline of Ash’s hand stroking up and down, slowly at first and then faster and with more intent. Ash’s breathing became labored, quiet pants punctuated by other sounds—a whimper, a grunt, another needy moan.

“Ahh, Cass . . .”

Hearing his name on Ash’s lips sent a sharp pulse of want through him, and Cass groaned in response.

“Keep going, please,” he murmured, his fingers skimming down along the underside of his hard shaft. It stiffened more under his touch, and he gripped himself at the base and began a slow stroke back up to the tip. A rough breath escaped him, and at the same time, Ash moaned his name again, the sound shaking something loose inside him. “God, Ash, I-I need—”

Grunting, Cass pushed the comforter off himself and then shoved his boxers down out of the way, freeing his arousal. He moaned and stroked himself again, slowly one more time and then another before letting himself speed up to match Ash’s pace.

“Cass . . . I’m so close,” Ash breathed, muffling another raspy moan.

Cass screwed his eyes shut for half a second, then opened them again, immediately finding the phone screen and watching as Ash continued to stroke himself under his sweatpants. His chest tightened as heat and pleasure coiled low in his groin. He was close, too. And he wanted it. And he wanted . . . no, he needed . . .

“Ash . . . God, Ash, let me see you. Your face. Please, I want to watch you come,” he said, the words strained.

He slowed his hand, trying to delay his own climax. But when Ash angled the camera up and Cass saw his flushed cheeks, tightly closed eyes, and rapid breathing, his expression pure pleasure, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer. Ash sucked in a breath and then tilted his head back with a long, deep moan, his body stilling as he came. It was beautiful and hot and more than arousing, and it sent Cass right over the edge with him. His hand pumped one last time as his rigid shaft pulsed with his release, warm liquid spilling out over his fist. He quickly turned his head to muffle a moan into his pillow.

“Mmm.” Ash sounded completely sated—the lazy, quiet, content hum slow and deep. “Mmm . . . wow.”

Cass was breathing too hard to really respond, but he managed to agree with a mumbled “mm-hmm.” He blinked his eyes back open halfway, barely able to see the phone screen through the haze of pleasure. From what he could see, though, Ash looked about the same as he felt, and so he closed his eyes again, released his softening shaft, and gave himself a moment for his breathing to return to normal.

It took him that full moment to realize just how much of a mess he’d made on his stomach and that he hadn’t exactly been quiet and that, god, they’d just had . . . phone sex? Was that what they’d done?

He grimaced and pulled the camera away, setting it face down on his nightstand so he could open the top drawer. Did he even have any tissues or anything? Probably not. He didn’t really do this very often, and usually not in bed. Sometimes in the shower, but—

“Cass?”

Ash’s voice came through the phone’s speaker, sounding almost sleepy now.