Celebrate
Title:: Celebrate
Genre:: Hell's Vam
Rating:: NC-17
Summary:: Bam wants to celebrate properly...
Author's Note:: This story is based on characters and storylines from the RPG st_helena_high.
I got in, I got inn, I got in I got in I got innnnnnnnnn!
That’s all that I’ve been able to think since I signed the papers this morning; since I got the phone call yesterday telling me I was going to sign the papers this morning.
Fuck yessss, Fuck yessss, Fuck yesssssssssss!
Even April is excited. I could tell by the way she actually went out and bought me booze.
“Ape, what the fuck?”
“Well, I figured you boys would just find out some other way to get it, and it’d be even more illegal…”
And then she squealed when I gave her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“Bam!” Guess it is a bit shocking; normally I just screw her stuff up as a manifestation of how much I like her. She is pretty cool though, when you forget about the Laura Ashley shit.
The party was … well, suffice it to say that it might just go down in West Chester history. One of the neighbors threatened to call the cops at 4 this morning, and it quieted down a bit, but Dunn, Novak, DiCo, Rake, Raab, Jess, Deron, Glomb, Cristina, Brody, Gee, Jay, and Captain were still here, and we only crashed around 5:30… and then we had to get up at fucking 8 in the morning to get to MTV headquarters for “preliminary negotiations” or some such shit, I don’t know, I slept through that meeting. Basically, they think us and some random fuck ups from California and other Pennsylvania people should get together and do a TV show where we screw around and make complete jackasses of ourselves. They want to call it something gay like “Team Demolition.” All this because Jess sent the big wigs a video of us all screwing around, along with the plans for their music video, and the plans for our first Camp Kill Yourself movie.
Whatever, I wasn’t paying attention the whole time. I was just sitting there thinking, “I got in, I got in, I got in… I wish Ville was here.”
Because he is the only thing missing in my otherwise perfect day today; even the killer hangover and lack of sleep aren’t bringing my mood down.
After MTV finished talking to us, I had to go to Element, sign those papers, go down to their warehouse, grab a bunch of clothes, boards, trucks, wheels, bearings, tape, wax - the works. And then it was back to West Chester, music blaring the whole way, rocking out in the car with DiCo and Raab and Rake in the back, and Dunn and Novak smushed together in the front seat - even they forgot to hate each other today. It was just like old days, the 6 of us, screwing around, speeding down the main street of West Chester, Raab hanging out the window flicking off the old ladies and their walking frames, DiCo doing his crazy French-man impression, Dunn and Novak bitching at each other in the front seat, Rake growling along with the music and me just sitting there, watching everything and laughing my ass off, giving a half-assed attempt not to run any of the old ladies over with the van.
And yet… there’s something missing. The middle seat of the front row is empty; at Christmas, the crew officially dubbed it Ville’s seat; DiCo went so far as to carve “Finnish” into the upholstery. No-one sits in it now - they say it’s because they don’t want to catch the gay cooties but I have an inkling that there’s a deeper reason, somewhere, hidden deep in the murky depths of their comparatively shallow consciences. I suspect that the reason is they’re worried about what it would mean to me. I think they know that Ville means something completely different to me than they do, as if he has a different place than them, and this is their physical manifestation of that place: the dingy, beat-up, carved-up middle seat of the front row of seats in my brother’s haggard-ass mini-van.
I smirk, remembering at Christmas, when we’d all gone to Fairman’s, or the mall, or the hoagie store, or the Skatepark, or the 7-11… we’d pile in this van, Dunn’d reach over from his seat and crank the music up, and the six of us would go nuts, whilst Ville sat there, in the midst of all the craziness, shaking his head and laughing at us in this way that suggested he either pitied us or our mothers - probably our mothers. And sometimes he’d actually join in, cigarette waving in the air, head back, the other hand gripping mine, singing his heart out to some random song blasting over the radio. And when the song ended, everyone would burst out laughing, patting him on the back, hollering out his name and praises… I think they really did actually like him, once they got past the initial shock.
Anyways, the point is, I miss him. A lot. I must have called him a million times between when I got that phone call yesterday and now, but it’s not enough. The party was awesome, but I missed the part where Ville would yank me away by the collar up to our room to celebrate a little on our own, probably with considerably less clothes on than would be accepted in the main part of the party. I missed him actually hugging me when he said ‘good job’, and his kisses, and … yeah, I really missed the celebratory sex.
“Oi, BamBam, quit thinkin’ about him and it won’t be so bad!” Raab hollers from the back of the van, and I snap out of the reverie I was just in. The guys are laughing; I flip them all off.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Aw, Bam, come on,” Novak almost coos. “Cheer up. Here look, I’ll keep you company.” He sidles across the front seat towards me, leaning up against the slashed upholstery, rubbing arms with me. The rest of the guys are roaring with laughter.
“Ah, fuck you Novocain.” I push him away playfully just as we pull up into my driveway. “Right, everyone that don’t live here, get the fuck out and back to your own houses! I’ll call you bitches later.” There is a mass of grumbling and general bitching but the riffraff eventually scatter, hopping on their boards and riding home, except for Dunn, who is much too lazy and brought his car rather than skate the 10 minutes here from his house and 10 minutes back.
Cris, Brody and Jay are occupied downstairs with the pool table; Jess is passed out on the couch in the living room, since he got back earlier than I did from New York; April is banging away in the kitchen; Novak disappears upstairs; Captain is munching on a plastic bone in the hallway… basically, I’m pretty much alone for almost the first time since landing, and I don’t have to worry about keeping someone entertained.
So, I catch up a phone and run up the stairs to my room, dialing Ville’s number without even thinking about it, flinging myself on the bed as it starts ringing. By the time he’s picked up, I’ve absentmindedly undone the button and fly of my jeans and am lying on my pillows comfortably in my trademark position: hand half in and half out of my boxer shorts, randomly playing with my bellybutton.
When he answers, his voice is gravely and low and his accent is so thick I can barely understand it. I think I must have woken him up.
“Brandon, there had better be a good reason for this phone call, it’s fucking two o’clock in the morning.”
“G’morning then,” I say, cheerfully, though inwardly I’m cringing a bit because I did honestly forget about the time difference.
“Mmmmghhhh,” is the grumbled response I get, and I chuckle.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“S’okay. What’s wrong? You didn’t break something did you?”
“Why do you always ask me that? No, I didn’t.”
“I always ask you that because it might always be true,” he grumbles, and I can hear him adjusting himself, probably sitting up a little bit, or propping himself up on his elbow. “So why are you calling?”
“Um… because… I … missed you?” I bite my lip, a little worried that he’ll be annoyed at me for waking him up because of that, but instead I just hear a small, surrendering sigh, and more shuffling.
“I miss you too, Bammie. There, now can I go back to sleep?”
“No,” I say, and he moans a bit, but I think it’s a good-humored moan, because if it weren’t, he’d hang up on me right after it, which he doesn’t do.
“How was talking to the big MTV people.”
“Boring as fuck. I think I fell asleep. I don’t know. They weren’t really saying anything important. Just that they’d option our show if we ever got our acts together… after we’re all 18, of course.” He makes an appreciative moan, shuffles around a little bit more. And suddenly, I’m seized by a crippling wish to be there with him, talking about this face to face - we’d be laying on the bunk back in the dorm, he’d be up against the wall and I’d be on the edge of the mattress, both of us on our sides, heads propped up on our hands, facing each other; I’d probably be playing with his hair and he’d be smoking, blowing the smoke out the hole in the headboard. And then somehow I’d end up kissing him, and one thing would lead to another and clothes would magically disappear and…
“I wish you were here now,” he says, quietly, and I chuckle a little ruefully.
“I know baby. Guess it’s less than a week now, right?”
“Yeah, guess so.”
I knew I’d miss him, when he told me he was leaving, but I never knew it’d be like this. This is almost unbearable. I suppose when you spend almost every waking moment with someone, you get really used to them really fast.
And right now, I’m dying to run my hands through his hair, hug him close, squeeze him around his waist… kiss him… slowly strip him of his clothes, one by one, and then… ravish him, take him so that either one of us, or both of us, can’t walk for days.
It’s more than that, of course, but right now, sex seems to be on my brain, and … I can’t stop thinking about it, about him…
“What’re you wearing?” I blurt out, before I even stop to think about that question. I can almost hear his surprise.
“What?!” He’s laughing a bit, and I’m blushing despite myself.
“I asked, what are you wearing?”
“Bam! I… why?” he sounds suspicious, as if he thinks this is some kind of prank or something.
“I want to know. I wanna… I wanna pretend you’re here with me, and I gotta know what you’re wearing to do that.”
He snickers a bit, and I can almost hear him rolling his eyes, though I know he’s probably cooing at the same time.
“It’s too hot for pajamas,” he says, just a little wickedly, and I can feel my eyes bulge a bit as a mental image crops up of his delectably pale, skinny self laying on his bed, stark naked, with just a sheet haphazardly draped over his body. And now, more than ever, I wish I was there to actually see it. “How bout you?” The joke is plain in his voice, but now that we’re on this vein, like hell I’m going to waste it.
“Shoes, socks, green cargo shorts and an element t-shirt.”
“What?!” He laughs. “Bammie, you are entirely overdressed for this kind of conversation.”
I smirk, kicking my shoes off.
“Yeah well it is only like, 8 here. I just got back from New York. Literally just walked in the door.”
“And the first thing you did was call me to tell me about the pointlessness of it and get sympathy, right?”
“Well. That, and to find out what you’re wearing.” He chuckles and I grin, shucking off my pants and putting down the phone quickly to shed my shirt.
“Mige and his girlfriend have been at it all night,” he’s saying when I put the phone back to my ear, and I laugh.
“Loudly?”
“Either that, or his walls are made out of paper. Or both.”
“Jealous?”
“What, that he’s screwing her, or that he’s screwing someone in general?”
“Well, obviously the latter, I didn’t think you’d go for the girl.”
“Course I’m jealous. It’s been ages.” I sigh, squirming a bit.
“You think I wasn’t aware of that?”
“Aw, I know Bammie… it’s okay… just a week to go…” We both sigh. It’s funny, being with another guy; he knows what I’m going through; girls never understand.
“I hope your friends know that when I get there we’re not leaving the bedroom for at least three days.”
“They’ve probably figured that out for themselves, Bam. It’s not like I haven’t been vocal in my longing for you, sweetheart.”
I have to grin at the way he phrases that, because… well… I just do.
“Longing? You’ve been longing for me?”
“Of course. I miss my Bambi.” I smile, wriggling out of my boxers. It’s entirely too hot in this room for clothing, I have just decided.
“I miss my Willa too. I think I’m going crazy here.”
There’s a moment of comfortable, loaded silence, and I know we’re both thinking about similar things; such as how much distance sucks, and what we’re going to do as soon as I’m over there.
“So, Bammie, whatcha wearing?”
I have to chuckle, settling back even further in my pillows.
“It’s entirely too hot for clothing,” I say, mimicking his earlier statement. “Nothing,” I add for clarification, and he chuckles.
“Mmmm, I thought as much.”
“Plus, all this talk about longing and stuff…”
“Getting you a bit hot and bothered, is it, sweetheart?” I look downwards and smirk.
“You could say that.”
“Why don’t you take care of that then?”
“What, now?” I smirk quietly to myself as I say that - I was wondering if I was going to have to suggest this or if he would jump for the bait. Thankfully, he jumped.
“I don’t mind.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet you don’t,” I murmur, breath catching as I finally let myself take care of what was beginning to become some what of an annoying problem.
“So, can I go to sleep yet?” I frown, closing my eyes at the same time because… well, this feels good.
“No, you gotta talk to me.”
“It’s kind of distracting when you’re breathing down the phone like that.”
“You… you said you didn’t mind.” I gulp, screwing my eyes shut even tighter.
“I don’t… it’s just… I’d rather I was there with you to at least watch instead of having to listen…”
“Well… you could just… join in…”
“Or I could just laugh at how ridiculous you sound right now.”
I gulp some more, but chuckle as well - because I can tell, from the tone of his voice, how much I’m getting to him.
“Bammie…”
“You know you wanna, Willa,” I breathe, grinning a little evilly to myself as I start to tease him. “Close your eyes and pretend I’m there…”
“Bam, shut up.” But he doesn’t sound so convinced.
“Go on, you’ve already got your clothes off… gahh…” I shut up for a bit and focus on what my hand is doing down there, eyes shut, wishing it was his hand - or any other part of his body, actually.
It’s when his breath gets heavy on the other end of the line that I have to start chuckling again, because I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.
“Villleeeeee,” I singsong, grinning to myself. “What’re you doingggg??”
“Shut up and pull, Bammie,” he croaks, and it’s all I can do not to burst out laughing. However, I manage to contain myself, and do as he instructs… but apparently, I can’t contain the grating moan of his name that slips between my lips after just a few seconds.
He giggles a bit on the other side of the line, but I can hear him shifting some more, and sure enough, he follows suit with a moan of his own.
“Oh, gahhh, Bamm…”
“Feel good, baby?”
“Mmmmmmm.”
Biting my lip, I speed up the pace, just as I hear evidence of him doing the same. God, I wish he was here. I tell him this, in the same breathy moan as before.
“Me too, Bammie…”
“I … fuck… miss you… so fuckin much.”
“I know, sweetheart…”
A few more minutes of breathless panting, low moans and whispered endearments follow, until both of us seem to have reached fever pitch, and he’s moaning unabashedly into my ear, and I’m grinning because he never can keep even remotely quiet.
“Fuck, Ville, that’s hot.”
“Mmmm, I know…” I smirk, head lolling, eyes rolling back in my head, relishing the familiar feeling of the tension winding tighter and tighter in my stomach until I can barely stand it anymore.
“Baby… ‘m close…” I can almost hear him grin at that, and I can definitely hear the groan that it causes.
“What’re you waiting for then?”
“You,” I manage to get out, because the tingling in my stomach seems to be all over my body now, as well as trying it’s best to strangle me.
He makes a sound which sounds strangely like “Nggggggggckkkk,” before whispering, in that husky sex-voice of his:
“Come for me, sweetheart.”
And that’s all it take for me to be sucked into a whirlpool of bliss, finally letting that coil of tension violently unwind, moaning his name the whole time. Sometime during my own release, he starts swearing and groaning even louder than before, and somehow we manage to finish at just about the same time, heavy, satisfied breathing making the phoneline crackle.
“Love you, Bamikan,” he sighs, and I smile, wiping my hand off on my sheets.
“Love you too, Willa.” He’s yawning and I take pity on him, knowing that he’s just given himself a workout worthy enough of some sleep.
“Go sleep, baby.”
“Finally…”
“Shut up.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too. Sleep well. Call me tomorrow?”
“Course, Bammie. You get cleaned up and go have fun, okay?”
“Okay. See you soon.”
“Yeah.” He hangs up the phone with a yawn, and I click the phone off, tossing it happily onto the mattress next to me. It’s a few hazy minutes before I gain control enough over my limbs to get up, and I rush across the hallway to the shower, clean myself up, and pull on some clothes before heading downstairs to find someone who needs entertaining.
However, when I get downstairs, it seems that Novak has taken up that role, laying dramatically on the couch in front of Brody, Cris, Jay and Dunn - who has magically reappeared, apparently - and is reenacting something, complete with overstated hand movements and exaggerated faces.
“Oh, god, Ville, I love you, I’m so hard for you, oh, pump it baby, oh oh oh oh god I’m gonna blow!”
Everyone’s rolling around on the floor laughing, until Cris looks up and sees me, standing in the doorway, a little bit confused as to just how Novak knew what I was doing.
“Hey, Bam,” Cris calls out, before doubling over laughing again. I blush a bit, but turn to Novak, eyebrows raised, wondering if he was listening at my bedroom door or what.
“Novak? What the fuck?” Novak just laughs, tossing me another phone.
“Dude, you gotta remember, there’s only one line in this house.”
And with that, everyone starts laughing again. Even me. Because… oh god. At least Ape didn’t pick it up.
Ville might just kill me. Oh well.
I sit down on the couch and Novak jumps away.
“Are you clean?” I roll my eyes and punch him not-so-playfully in the shoulder.
“Yes, nidiot, I took a shower, now gimme a beer and shut the fuck up.”
Genre:: Hell's Vam
Rating:: NC-17
Summary:: Bam wants to celebrate properly...
Author's Note:: This story is based on characters and storylines from the RPG st_helena_high.
I got in, I got inn, I got in I got in I got innnnnnnnnn!
That’s all that I’ve been able to think since I signed the papers this morning; since I got the phone call yesterday telling me I was going to sign the papers this morning.
Fuck yessss, Fuck yessss, Fuck yesssssssssss!
Even April is excited. I could tell by the way she actually went out and bought me booze.
“Ape, what the fuck?”
“Well, I figured you boys would just find out some other way to get it, and it’d be even more illegal…”
And then she squealed when I gave her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“Bam!” Guess it is a bit shocking; normally I just screw her stuff up as a manifestation of how much I like her. She is pretty cool though, when you forget about the Laura Ashley shit.
The party was … well, suffice it to say that it might just go down in West Chester history. One of the neighbors threatened to call the cops at 4 this morning, and it quieted down a bit, but Dunn, Novak, DiCo, Rake, Raab, Jess, Deron, Glomb, Cristina, Brody, Gee, Jay, and Captain were still here, and we only crashed around 5:30… and then we had to get up at fucking 8 in the morning to get to MTV headquarters for “preliminary negotiations” or some such shit, I don’t know, I slept through that meeting. Basically, they think us and some random fuck ups from California and other Pennsylvania people should get together and do a TV show where we screw around and make complete jackasses of ourselves. They want to call it something gay like “Team Demolition.” All this because Jess sent the big wigs a video of us all screwing around, along with the plans for their music video, and the plans for our first Camp Kill Yourself movie.
Whatever, I wasn’t paying attention the whole time. I was just sitting there thinking, “I got in, I got in, I got in… I wish Ville was here.”
Because he is the only thing missing in my otherwise perfect day today; even the killer hangover and lack of sleep aren’t bringing my mood down.
After MTV finished talking to us, I had to go to Element, sign those papers, go down to their warehouse, grab a bunch of clothes, boards, trucks, wheels, bearings, tape, wax - the works. And then it was back to West Chester, music blaring the whole way, rocking out in the car with DiCo and Raab and Rake in the back, and Dunn and Novak smushed together in the front seat - even they forgot to hate each other today. It was just like old days, the 6 of us, screwing around, speeding down the main street of West Chester, Raab hanging out the window flicking off the old ladies and their walking frames, DiCo doing his crazy French-man impression, Dunn and Novak bitching at each other in the front seat, Rake growling along with the music and me just sitting there, watching everything and laughing my ass off, giving a half-assed attempt not to run any of the old ladies over with the van.
And yet… there’s something missing. The middle seat of the front row is empty; at Christmas, the crew officially dubbed it Ville’s seat; DiCo went so far as to carve “Finnish” into the upholstery. No-one sits in it now - they say it’s because they don’t want to catch the gay cooties but I have an inkling that there’s a deeper reason, somewhere, hidden deep in the murky depths of their comparatively shallow consciences. I suspect that the reason is they’re worried about what it would mean to me. I think they know that Ville means something completely different to me than they do, as if he has a different place than them, and this is their physical manifestation of that place: the dingy, beat-up, carved-up middle seat of the front row of seats in my brother’s haggard-ass mini-van.
I smirk, remembering at Christmas, when we’d all gone to Fairman’s, or the mall, or the hoagie store, or the Skatepark, or the 7-11… we’d pile in this van, Dunn’d reach over from his seat and crank the music up, and the six of us would go nuts, whilst Ville sat there, in the midst of all the craziness, shaking his head and laughing at us in this way that suggested he either pitied us or our mothers - probably our mothers. And sometimes he’d actually join in, cigarette waving in the air, head back, the other hand gripping mine, singing his heart out to some random song blasting over the radio. And when the song ended, everyone would burst out laughing, patting him on the back, hollering out his name and praises… I think they really did actually like him, once they got past the initial shock.
Anyways, the point is, I miss him. A lot. I must have called him a million times between when I got that phone call yesterday and now, but it’s not enough. The party was awesome, but I missed the part where Ville would yank me away by the collar up to our room to celebrate a little on our own, probably with considerably less clothes on than would be accepted in the main part of the party. I missed him actually hugging me when he said ‘good job’, and his kisses, and … yeah, I really missed the celebratory sex.
“Oi, BamBam, quit thinkin’ about him and it won’t be so bad!” Raab hollers from the back of the van, and I snap out of the reverie I was just in. The guys are laughing; I flip them all off.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Aw, Bam, come on,” Novak almost coos. “Cheer up. Here look, I’ll keep you company.” He sidles across the front seat towards me, leaning up against the slashed upholstery, rubbing arms with me. The rest of the guys are roaring with laughter.
“Ah, fuck you Novocain.” I push him away playfully just as we pull up into my driveway. “Right, everyone that don’t live here, get the fuck out and back to your own houses! I’ll call you bitches later.” There is a mass of grumbling and general bitching but the riffraff eventually scatter, hopping on their boards and riding home, except for Dunn, who is much too lazy and brought his car rather than skate the 10 minutes here from his house and 10 minutes back.
Cris, Brody and Jay are occupied downstairs with the pool table; Jess is passed out on the couch in the living room, since he got back earlier than I did from New York; April is banging away in the kitchen; Novak disappears upstairs; Captain is munching on a plastic bone in the hallway… basically, I’m pretty much alone for almost the first time since landing, and I don’t have to worry about keeping someone entertained.
So, I catch up a phone and run up the stairs to my room, dialing Ville’s number without even thinking about it, flinging myself on the bed as it starts ringing. By the time he’s picked up, I’ve absentmindedly undone the button and fly of my jeans and am lying on my pillows comfortably in my trademark position: hand half in and half out of my boxer shorts, randomly playing with my bellybutton.
When he answers, his voice is gravely and low and his accent is so thick I can barely understand it. I think I must have woken him up.
“Brandon, there had better be a good reason for this phone call, it’s fucking two o’clock in the morning.”
“G’morning then,” I say, cheerfully, though inwardly I’m cringing a bit because I did honestly forget about the time difference.
“Mmmmghhhh,” is the grumbled response I get, and I chuckle.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“S’okay. What’s wrong? You didn’t break something did you?”
“Why do you always ask me that? No, I didn’t.”
“I always ask you that because it might always be true,” he grumbles, and I can hear him adjusting himself, probably sitting up a little bit, or propping himself up on his elbow. “So why are you calling?”
“Um… because… I … missed you?” I bite my lip, a little worried that he’ll be annoyed at me for waking him up because of that, but instead I just hear a small, surrendering sigh, and more shuffling.
“I miss you too, Bammie. There, now can I go back to sleep?”
“No,” I say, and he moans a bit, but I think it’s a good-humored moan, because if it weren’t, he’d hang up on me right after it, which he doesn’t do.
“How was talking to the big MTV people.”
“Boring as fuck. I think I fell asleep. I don’t know. They weren’t really saying anything important. Just that they’d option our show if we ever got our acts together… after we’re all 18, of course.” He makes an appreciative moan, shuffles around a little bit more. And suddenly, I’m seized by a crippling wish to be there with him, talking about this face to face - we’d be laying on the bunk back in the dorm, he’d be up against the wall and I’d be on the edge of the mattress, both of us on our sides, heads propped up on our hands, facing each other; I’d probably be playing with his hair and he’d be smoking, blowing the smoke out the hole in the headboard. And then somehow I’d end up kissing him, and one thing would lead to another and clothes would magically disappear and…
“I wish you were here now,” he says, quietly, and I chuckle a little ruefully.
“I know baby. Guess it’s less than a week now, right?”
“Yeah, guess so.”
I knew I’d miss him, when he told me he was leaving, but I never knew it’d be like this. This is almost unbearable. I suppose when you spend almost every waking moment with someone, you get really used to them really fast.
And right now, I’m dying to run my hands through his hair, hug him close, squeeze him around his waist… kiss him… slowly strip him of his clothes, one by one, and then… ravish him, take him so that either one of us, or both of us, can’t walk for days.
It’s more than that, of course, but right now, sex seems to be on my brain, and … I can’t stop thinking about it, about him…
“What’re you wearing?” I blurt out, before I even stop to think about that question. I can almost hear his surprise.
“What?!” He’s laughing a bit, and I’m blushing despite myself.
“I asked, what are you wearing?”
“Bam! I… why?” he sounds suspicious, as if he thinks this is some kind of prank or something.
“I want to know. I wanna… I wanna pretend you’re here with me, and I gotta know what you’re wearing to do that.”
He snickers a bit, and I can almost hear him rolling his eyes, though I know he’s probably cooing at the same time.
“It’s too hot for pajamas,” he says, just a little wickedly, and I can feel my eyes bulge a bit as a mental image crops up of his delectably pale, skinny self laying on his bed, stark naked, with just a sheet haphazardly draped over his body. And now, more than ever, I wish I was there to actually see it. “How bout you?” The joke is plain in his voice, but now that we’re on this vein, like hell I’m going to waste it.
“Shoes, socks, green cargo shorts and an element t-shirt.”
“What?!” He laughs. “Bammie, you are entirely overdressed for this kind of conversation.”
I smirk, kicking my shoes off.
“Yeah well it is only like, 8 here. I just got back from New York. Literally just walked in the door.”
“And the first thing you did was call me to tell me about the pointlessness of it and get sympathy, right?”
“Well. That, and to find out what you’re wearing.” He chuckles and I grin, shucking off my pants and putting down the phone quickly to shed my shirt.
“Mige and his girlfriend have been at it all night,” he’s saying when I put the phone back to my ear, and I laugh.
“Loudly?”
“Either that, or his walls are made out of paper. Or both.”
“Jealous?”
“What, that he’s screwing her, or that he’s screwing someone in general?”
“Well, obviously the latter, I didn’t think you’d go for the girl.”
“Course I’m jealous. It’s been ages.” I sigh, squirming a bit.
“You think I wasn’t aware of that?”
“Aw, I know Bammie… it’s okay… just a week to go…” We both sigh. It’s funny, being with another guy; he knows what I’m going through; girls never understand.
“I hope your friends know that when I get there we’re not leaving the bedroom for at least three days.”
“They’ve probably figured that out for themselves, Bam. It’s not like I haven’t been vocal in my longing for you, sweetheart.”
I have to grin at the way he phrases that, because… well… I just do.
“Longing? You’ve been longing for me?”
“Of course. I miss my Bambi.” I smile, wriggling out of my boxers. It’s entirely too hot in this room for clothing, I have just decided.
“I miss my Willa too. I think I’m going crazy here.”
There’s a moment of comfortable, loaded silence, and I know we’re both thinking about similar things; such as how much distance sucks, and what we’re going to do as soon as I’m over there.
“So, Bammie, whatcha wearing?”
I have to chuckle, settling back even further in my pillows.
“It’s entirely too hot for clothing,” I say, mimicking his earlier statement. “Nothing,” I add for clarification, and he chuckles.
“Mmmm, I thought as much.”
“Plus, all this talk about longing and stuff…”
“Getting you a bit hot and bothered, is it, sweetheart?” I look downwards and smirk.
“You could say that.”
“Why don’t you take care of that then?”
“What, now?” I smirk quietly to myself as I say that - I was wondering if I was going to have to suggest this or if he would jump for the bait. Thankfully, he jumped.
“I don’t mind.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet you don’t,” I murmur, breath catching as I finally let myself take care of what was beginning to become some what of an annoying problem.
“So, can I go to sleep yet?” I frown, closing my eyes at the same time because… well, this feels good.
“No, you gotta talk to me.”
“It’s kind of distracting when you’re breathing down the phone like that.”
“You… you said you didn’t mind.” I gulp, screwing my eyes shut even tighter.
“I don’t… it’s just… I’d rather I was there with you to at least watch instead of having to listen…”
“Well… you could just… join in…”
“Or I could just laugh at how ridiculous you sound right now.”
I gulp some more, but chuckle as well - because I can tell, from the tone of his voice, how much I’m getting to him.
“Bammie…”
“You know you wanna, Willa,” I breathe, grinning a little evilly to myself as I start to tease him. “Close your eyes and pretend I’m there…”
“Bam, shut up.” But he doesn’t sound so convinced.
“Go on, you’ve already got your clothes off… gahh…” I shut up for a bit and focus on what my hand is doing down there, eyes shut, wishing it was his hand - or any other part of his body, actually.
It’s when his breath gets heavy on the other end of the line that I have to start chuckling again, because I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist.
“Villleeeeee,” I singsong, grinning to myself. “What’re you doingggg??”
“Shut up and pull, Bammie,” he croaks, and it’s all I can do not to burst out laughing. However, I manage to contain myself, and do as he instructs… but apparently, I can’t contain the grating moan of his name that slips between my lips after just a few seconds.
He giggles a bit on the other side of the line, but I can hear him shifting some more, and sure enough, he follows suit with a moan of his own.
“Oh, gahhh, Bamm…”
“Feel good, baby?”
“Mmmmmmm.”
Biting my lip, I speed up the pace, just as I hear evidence of him doing the same. God, I wish he was here. I tell him this, in the same breathy moan as before.
“Me too, Bammie…”
“I … fuck… miss you… so fuckin much.”
“I know, sweetheart…”
A few more minutes of breathless panting, low moans and whispered endearments follow, until both of us seem to have reached fever pitch, and he’s moaning unabashedly into my ear, and I’m grinning because he never can keep even remotely quiet.
“Fuck, Ville, that’s hot.”
“Mmmm, I know…” I smirk, head lolling, eyes rolling back in my head, relishing the familiar feeling of the tension winding tighter and tighter in my stomach until I can barely stand it anymore.
“Baby… ‘m close…” I can almost hear him grin at that, and I can definitely hear the groan that it causes.
“What’re you waiting for then?”
“You,” I manage to get out, because the tingling in my stomach seems to be all over my body now, as well as trying it’s best to strangle me.
He makes a sound which sounds strangely like “Nggggggggckkkk,” before whispering, in that husky sex-voice of his:
“Come for me, sweetheart.”
And that’s all it take for me to be sucked into a whirlpool of bliss, finally letting that coil of tension violently unwind, moaning his name the whole time. Sometime during my own release, he starts swearing and groaning even louder than before, and somehow we manage to finish at just about the same time, heavy, satisfied breathing making the phoneline crackle.
“Love you, Bamikan,” he sighs, and I smile, wiping my hand off on my sheets.
“Love you too, Willa.” He’s yawning and I take pity on him, knowing that he’s just given himself a workout worthy enough of some sleep.
“Go sleep, baby.”
“Finally…”
“Shut up.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too. Sleep well. Call me tomorrow?”
“Course, Bammie. You get cleaned up and go have fun, okay?”
“Okay. See you soon.”
“Yeah.” He hangs up the phone with a yawn, and I click the phone off, tossing it happily onto the mattress next to me. It’s a few hazy minutes before I gain control enough over my limbs to get up, and I rush across the hallway to the shower, clean myself up, and pull on some clothes before heading downstairs to find someone who needs entertaining.
However, when I get downstairs, it seems that Novak has taken up that role, laying dramatically on the couch in front of Brody, Cris, Jay and Dunn - who has magically reappeared, apparently - and is reenacting something, complete with overstated hand movements and exaggerated faces.
“Oh, god, Ville, I love you, I’m so hard for you, oh, pump it baby, oh oh oh oh god I’m gonna blow!”
Everyone’s rolling around on the floor laughing, until Cris looks up and sees me, standing in the doorway, a little bit confused as to just how Novak knew what I was doing.
“Hey, Bam,” Cris calls out, before doubling over laughing again. I blush a bit, but turn to Novak, eyebrows raised, wondering if he was listening at my bedroom door or what.
“Novak? What the fuck?” Novak just laughs, tossing me another phone.
“Dude, you gotta remember, there’s only one line in this house.”
And with that, everyone starts laughing again. Even me. Because… oh god. At least Ape didn’t pick it up.
Ville might just kill me. Oh well.
I sit down on the couch and Novak jumps away.
“Are you clean?” I roll my eyes and punch him not-so-playfully in the shoulder.
“Yes, nidiot, I took a shower, now gimme a beer and shut the fuck up.”