2:15 [RPF] (NC-17)
Title: 2:15 (Timestamps 1/3) [RPF]
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2746
Spoilers: It’s hard to spoil what doesn’t actually exist.
Summary: For this prompt "It is after they filmed the kiss and the behind glee. One of the boys phones the other and they end up discussing the kiss. Darren brings up Chris' cigarette joke, and asks if he was actually being serious. Chris tells him that yeah, it was the hottest kiss he's ever had. This talk then progresses into phone sex."
2:15
2:15
2:15
I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve replayed this video, but I know it’s got to be a lot. I couldn’t tell you how long it is, or how it begins, or even at what point I appear, but I can definitely tell you what happens at the two minutes, fifteen seconds timestamp.
“Damn, Darren, I need a cigarette!”
“Damn…”
“Darren…”
“…cigarette!”
Each word seems burned into my brain, but I can’t stop clicking back to that 2:15 marker, no matter how much I try. I know it’s ridiculous, but I can’t stop asking myself just what he meant by that. On one hand, Chris is kind of a goof. Almost as much of one as I am, really. It’s totally reasonable that he was just making the most overblown joke he could. Humor’s a great way to diffuse tension, after all.
On the other hand, something about it just feels…off, somehow. Like he’s trying too hard to make it into a joke. The expression, the weird tone in his voice, it’s not the Chris I’ve gotten to know. Something’s up, and I have a feeling I’m not going to get any sleep unless I find out what.
---
” My beauty was a beast before I got to know you.
This kitten has a lion's roar
And she will roll you. “
Chris would have The Scissor Sisters as an answer tone. I give a small chuckle when I recognize it, but it drops when I realize how long the phone’s been ringing.
”You're not the first tom to walk my floor.
So get around the block a few times more.
And keep scratch scratchin' at my back door.
And I will show you.”
“Hello?” Chris’s voice is subdued, but breathless. Like he had to race to answer his phone, but wasn’t really sure if he wanted to.
“Hey, Chris. It’s me.” I aim for breezy, but think I may have hit closer to cheesy.
“Who’s me?” The breathlessness is fading, but there’s a tinge of annoyance to his voice. Whatever he was doing before he picked up the phone, it seems pretty clear I called at the wrong time.
“Chris, hold on. It’s just Darren. Are you okay? Is this a bad time?”
I hear him exhale, and his voice softens. “Oh, hey. Sorry about that, Darren. I had an unfortunate incident with my phone last night, and had to get a new one. I haven’t gotten around to replacing my contacts and I didn’t recognize your number. What’s four one five? Is that Ann Arbor, or something?”
“Home,” I say. “San Francisco, I mean. I know I should probably get a local number, but I just can’t make myself do it, you know? With all the running around I’ve been doing these last few years, having my phone based back home has been like, a touchstone or something. A way to be home, even when I’m not.” Whoa. Overshare, much? I’m trying to think of something less ridiculous to say when Chris gives a laugh.
“Personally, I couldn’t wait to trade in five five nine for three two three, but I suppose I can see where you’re coming from.” He pauses for a second. “Is something up? Not that I’m not enjoying this scintillating conversation about our state’s area codes, but you don’t call me very often, and I don’t think this topic was pre-planned.”
I give a small swallow. This is going to be uncomfortable no matter how I approach it, so I should probably just dive right in. “Look, Chris, I know we’ve both talked to reporters about this until we’re blue in the face, but I just need to know…are you cool with our kissing scenes? Have I been making you uncomfortable, or anything?”
A few beats of silence pass, and I’m just about to check if he’s still on the line when he responds. “Why would you ask that?”
I’m not really sure what I was expecting his answer to be, but I know it wasn’t that. “Just…the way you’ve been joking about it, I started wondering if maybe you were trying to cover something up. I don’t know, I mean…it looks like we’re going to have a few more in our future, and I just want to make sure that I’m doing everything I can to make you comfortable.”
He gives a laugh, but it doesn’t sound exactly happy. “No offense, Darren, but I don’t really know that “comfortable” is a word that I’ll ever be able to use when it comes to kissing you.”
Ouch. I know the guy’s entitled to his own feelings and all, but it still feels a little harsh. “Well, what’s the closest I can get? I’m serious, Chris. I really enjoy working with you, and I want you to enjoy working with me, too.”
“That’s the problem, Darren. I do enjoy it.” He gives that same laugh again. “I enjoy it a little too much, in case you didn’t notice during the takes where I practically ate your face.”
I blink as this all sinks in. Oh. Oh… Ooohhhhhh….
I clear my throat and give a shake as I break from my reverie. “So, those comments about me being a ten and needing a cigarette…?”
“Were completely honest, yes. Not that I have a lot of experience, but that was probably the single hottest experience of my life, and it kind of sucks that it only happened because someone was paying you for it. Great for your career, slightly depressing in the context of my love life.” There’s a tinge of humor in his voice, but he’s clearly hurt, and I really don’t know what to do to help.
Mom always said honesty was the best policy.
I grab a beer from the fridge and crack the cap off under the counter. I hadn’t planned on saying much from my own point of view, but I think it might be the only way to save things, and I don’t know that I can really say this without some liquid courage running through my system. “Confession time?”
“Hrm?”
“I kind of got into it, too.”
Another pause. “Got into it like, how? Like, you got really into character?”
I take a couple of drinks. “Uhm…no. I mean that my first reaction was “Chris has some seriously amazing lips.”
“For a guy.”
“For anyone.” I take a breath. “Let’s just say that at least a few of those takes were less Blaine kissing Kurt, and more me kissing you.”
Awk.
Ward.
He lets out a breath, and his voice lowers. “You don’t mean that. Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
I take another drink and oh my god, how did my bottle get empty so fast? I had a couple earlier, and I’m just starting to feel their effect. At least, my tongue does, because the next thing I know, I hear myself saying the words “you got me hard,” and I’m suddenly really, really glad that I’m sitting down, because I’d probably have fallen over if I wasn’t. It’s the truth, but it’s a little more truth than I’d really been expecting to share.
Chris’s voice is low as the word “when?” comes through the phone, and I picture him as he was that day on set, face flushed and lips swollen.
“When you bit my lower lip,” I answer. “When your tongue hit my upper lip. When you began to breathe through my mouth and sucked the air from my lungs.” My voice is getting raspy, and it’s increasingly hard to breathe. Remembering each moment brings back the sense memory, and I feel history beginning to repeat itself.
My words are followed by the longest period of silence yet, and when Chris finally responds, I almost think he’s chosen to ignore me. “I was just thinking about you, actually. It’s interesting that you’d choose this moment to call.”
“Is that so?” I ask, my voice breaking much to my horror. I’m making the most giant ass of myself, and he’s clearly trying to do damage control. Bring this back to a nice, normal conversation where his co-worker isn’t sexually harassing him. What a trouper, that Chris.
“I almost missed your call, though. It took a few seconds to hear it from the shower.”
If different segments of my brain have shut down at various points of this conversation, the few remaining ones all pitch in overtime to connect the dots.
He was thinking about me when I called.
He was in the shower when the phone rang.
He was thinking about me in the shower.
Where he was probably naked.
And likely wet.
And if he rushed out to answer the phone, that means he’s…
Yeah. Okay.
“So you’re…?”
“Dripping wet, yes. I think I’m going to have to change my sheets when we hang up.” Now, this is bad, because I’ve actually seen Chris’s room before, and it’s much too easy for me to picture him now. Stretched out on his back, hair damp and sticking to his forehead. Drops of water clinging to his throat. The wetness from his skin causing the blue of his duvet to darken around him.
“Oh, god,” I groan before I can help myself. I tighten my grip on the bottle in my hand, my thumb running up and down the neck and making paths in the condensation.
“Darren?”
“Yes, Chris?”
“What are you wearing?”
A choked sound comes from my throat, and it takes a minute before I can answer. “Not much, just a plain white t-shirt and some old jeans.”
“It’s more than I’m wearing,” comes the breathy reply from the phone, and really, I already knew he had to be naked, but his teasing is kind of painfully hot. This is not the Chris I’m used to joking with on set, but it kind of is, and it’s making things kind of uncomfortable, but in a really, really good way. I hear some muffled sounds on his end of the phone, and I’m just about to ask if he dropped something when he cuts through my thoughts. “Look, Darren, not to be inappropriate, but I think I need to jerk off right now. You’re more than welcome to stay on the line, if you like, but I thought it only fair to give you the chance to hang up.”
Oh.
No.
He.
Didn’t.
I almost lose the grip on my bottle, but manage to barely catch it before it hits the floor. Without thinking, I slip the opening between my lips and work on holding it in my mouth as tightly as possible. The more my mouth is occupied, the lower the chances of saying something stupid. Only, the more I focus on the bottle between my lips, the more I find myself focusing on the way my tongue and lips are sliding around it, and how good it feels. This makes me focus more on the sounds Chris is making, and it doesn’t take long before I’m blending the two.
“I” he gasps “notice” a sigh “you haven’t hung up yet. Can I take this to mean you’d like to join me?”
If I wasn’t hard before, I definitely am now.
“Yeah,” I whisper into my phone. “Just let me make myself more comfortable, first.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m uh, just getting to my room,” I say, stepping through the doorway from the hall to my room. “and I’m about to unzip my jeans.”
“Wait,” he says, and his breathing slows. “What’ve you got underneath?”
“Nothing,” I say. “Just me.”
“Are you hard?”
Something in his voice reaches into my gut, and I can’t help but groan when I answer him. “God, yes.” I bite my lip. “You?”
He gives a small laugh. “I’ve been hard since before you called, Darren. I told you I was thinking about you when the phone rang.” Suddenly, I can’t get my clothes off fast enough. “What would you want to happen if you were here?”
I brush a finger against my ear, sure I’ll feel my brains oozing from my ear, and am fairly surprised when it comes away dry. “I think,” I begin as I lick my palm and begin to tease one of my nipples., “that I’d want to spend a lot of time just kissing you. Tasting your lips, feeling your tongue against mine, memorizing your face with my fingertips. Pulling away every so often to see how swollen your lips are getting.” I run my hand down my front and begin to tease myself. “Your lips, Chris…you don’t know what they did to me.”
“You said they got you hard,” Chris purrs, and I can hear his breath hitching in his chest.
“Mmm…” I wrap my hand around myself and begin to stroke. “So hard, Chris. I had to go back to my trailer and think about how they’d look wrapped around my cock.” I tilt my head back as a moan escapes my lips. “But now? Right now? I want you. I want your cock so bad. Want it in my mouth, between my lips, beneath my tongue, want to taste it and make you beg for more.”
Chris gives a low, rumbling laugh in the back of his throat. “I never beg, Darren, but it sounds like you do.”
I’m almost embarrassed when I realize he’s right. That I’m so close to begging him for his cock that I can barely think of anything else. I stroke myself harder, faster, not even bothering to keep my breathing quiet.
“Which finger do you use the most, Darren? Your index, or your middle finger?”
“Middle. Why?”
“I needed to know which one to put in first,” Chris says, and that pretty much ruins me. I come, hot and heavy, spilling over my hand.
“Oh, fuck, Chris. You just made me come. I can’t remember the last time I came so hard.” I grab at my t-shirt, just a couple of feet away on the bed, and begin to mop myself up.
Chris gives a deep laugh. “Maybe you should try thinking of a mailman, next time. It might help you out with that little problem of yours.”
I feel my face flush. “I suppose you’re still going?”
“Mm-hmm…I’m nice and patient, that way,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Would you be as patient if I were there?”
“That depends. What would you want to do if you were?”
“Didn’t I answer this already?”
“That was five minutes ago. I’m just checking if you’ve changed your mind.”
I picture him on his stomach, upper body propped on his elbows and his eyes gazing into mine from over his shoulder. “I want to lick your back. I want to trace the lyrics to every song I’ve ever known against your spine until you make me stop. I want to trace every inch of your body with my tongue. Your throat, your shoulders, your hips, your knees, just…everything, fuck. Every inch until you can’t take it any longer, and you beg me to fuck you.”
I’m not sure, but I think I hear him whimper.
Now that I’ve come, I’m feeling a lot less anxious, and my tongue starts to work on its own, with none of my earlier spazz. “To quote some excellent music from our youth, ’I want to fuck you like an animal. I want to feel you from the inside.’ I want to take you on your hands and knees and sink my teeth into your shoulder when I come inside you. Wanna put my hands on your hips and pull you toward me until you can’t get any closer. I want. To make. You scream.”
It’s as I growl the last word into the phone that I hear the strangled cry come from the other end. ”Well, that went pretty well,” I think to myself as I listen to the soft whimpering coming through the phone.
“So…” I say, not really knowing where else this conversation should go. “I suppose this means we’re good, right?”
“We’re only good,” Chris murmurs into the phone, “if you’re at my door in the next fifteen minutes.”
My eyebrows raise as I think about the possibility. “Make it twenty, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
“Seventeen. Clock starts now.”
The line goes dead, and I can’t find my keys fast enough.
Marketing MBA
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 2746
Spoilers: It’s hard to spoil what doesn’t actually exist.
Summary: For this prompt "It is after they filmed the kiss and the behind glee. One of the boys phones the other and they end up discussing the kiss. Darren brings up Chris' cigarette joke, and asks if he was actually being serious. Chris tells him that yeah, it was the hottest kiss he's ever had. This talk then progresses into phone sex."
2:15
2:15
2:15
I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve replayed this video, but I know it’s got to be a lot. I couldn’t tell you how long it is, or how it begins, or even at what point I appear, but I can definitely tell you what happens at the two minutes, fifteen seconds timestamp.
“Damn, Darren, I need a cigarette!”
“Damn…”
“Darren…”
“…cigarette!”
Each word seems burned into my brain, but I can’t stop clicking back to that 2:15 marker, no matter how much I try. I know it’s ridiculous, but I can’t stop asking myself just what he meant by that. On one hand, Chris is kind of a goof. Almost as much of one as I am, really. It’s totally reasonable that he was just making the most overblown joke he could. Humor’s a great way to diffuse tension, after all.
On the other hand, something about it just feels…off, somehow. Like he’s trying too hard to make it into a joke. The expression, the weird tone in his voice, it’s not the Chris I’ve gotten to know. Something’s up, and I have a feeling I’m not going to get any sleep unless I find out what.
---
” My beauty was a beast before I got to know you.
This kitten has a lion's roar
And she will roll you. “
Chris would have The Scissor Sisters as an answer tone. I give a small chuckle when I recognize it, but it drops when I realize how long the phone’s been ringing.
”You're not the first tom to walk my floor.
So get around the block a few times more.
And keep scratch scratchin' at my back door.
And I will show you.”
“Hello?” Chris’s voice is subdued, but breathless. Like he had to race to answer his phone, but wasn’t really sure if he wanted to.
“Hey, Chris. It’s me.” I aim for breezy, but think I may have hit closer to cheesy.
“Who’s me?” The breathlessness is fading, but there’s a tinge of annoyance to his voice. Whatever he was doing before he picked up the phone, it seems pretty clear I called at the wrong time.
“Chris, hold on. It’s just Darren. Are you okay? Is this a bad time?”
I hear him exhale, and his voice softens. “Oh, hey. Sorry about that, Darren. I had an unfortunate incident with my phone last night, and had to get a new one. I haven’t gotten around to replacing my contacts and I didn’t recognize your number. What’s four one five? Is that Ann Arbor, or something?”
“Home,” I say. “San Francisco, I mean. I know I should probably get a local number, but I just can’t make myself do it, you know? With all the running around I’ve been doing these last few years, having my phone based back home has been like, a touchstone or something. A way to be home, even when I’m not.” Whoa. Overshare, much? I’m trying to think of something less ridiculous to say when Chris gives a laugh.
“Personally, I couldn’t wait to trade in five five nine for three two three, but I suppose I can see where you’re coming from.” He pauses for a second. “Is something up? Not that I’m not enjoying this scintillating conversation about our state’s area codes, but you don’t call me very often, and I don’t think this topic was pre-planned.”
I give a small swallow. This is going to be uncomfortable no matter how I approach it, so I should probably just dive right in. “Look, Chris, I know we’ve both talked to reporters about this until we’re blue in the face, but I just need to know…are you cool with our kissing scenes? Have I been making you uncomfortable, or anything?”
A few beats of silence pass, and I’m just about to check if he’s still on the line when he responds. “Why would you ask that?”
I’m not really sure what I was expecting his answer to be, but I know it wasn’t that. “Just…the way you’ve been joking about it, I started wondering if maybe you were trying to cover something up. I don’t know, I mean…it looks like we’re going to have a few more in our future, and I just want to make sure that I’m doing everything I can to make you comfortable.”
He gives a laugh, but it doesn’t sound exactly happy. “No offense, Darren, but I don’t really know that “comfortable” is a word that I’ll ever be able to use when it comes to kissing you.”
Ouch. I know the guy’s entitled to his own feelings and all, but it still feels a little harsh. “Well, what’s the closest I can get? I’m serious, Chris. I really enjoy working with you, and I want you to enjoy working with me, too.”
“That’s the problem, Darren. I do enjoy it.” He gives that same laugh again. “I enjoy it a little too much, in case you didn’t notice during the takes where I practically ate your face.”
I blink as this all sinks in. Oh. Oh… Ooohhhhhh….
I clear my throat and give a shake as I break from my reverie. “So, those comments about me being a ten and needing a cigarette…?”
“Were completely honest, yes. Not that I have a lot of experience, but that was probably the single hottest experience of my life, and it kind of sucks that it only happened because someone was paying you for it. Great for your career, slightly depressing in the context of my love life.” There’s a tinge of humor in his voice, but he’s clearly hurt, and I really don’t know what to do to help.
Mom always said honesty was the best policy.
I grab a beer from the fridge and crack the cap off under the counter. I hadn’t planned on saying much from my own point of view, but I think it might be the only way to save things, and I don’t know that I can really say this without some liquid courage running through my system. “Confession time?”
“Hrm?”
“I kind of got into it, too.”
Another pause. “Got into it like, how? Like, you got really into character?”
I take a couple of drinks. “Uhm…no. I mean that my first reaction was “Chris has some seriously amazing lips.”
“For a guy.”
“For anyone.” I take a breath. “Let’s just say that at least a few of those takes were less Blaine kissing Kurt, and more me kissing you.”
Awk.
Ward.
He lets out a breath, and his voice lowers. “You don’t mean that. Don’t say things you don’t mean.”
I take another drink and oh my god, how did my bottle get empty so fast? I had a couple earlier, and I’m just starting to feel their effect. At least, my tongue does, because the next thing I know, I hear myself saying the words “you got me hard,” and I’m suddenly really, really glad that I’m sitting down, because I’d probably have fallen over if I wasn’t. It’s the truth, but it’s a little more truth than I’d really been expecting to share.
Chris’s voice is low as the word “when?” comes through the phone, and I picture him as he was that day on set, face flushed and lips swollen.
“When you bit my lower lip,” I answer. “When your tongue hit my upper lip. When you began to breathe through my mouth and sucked the air from my lungs.” My voice is getting raspy, and it’s increasingly hard to breathe. Remembering each moment brings back the sense memory, and I feel history beginning to repeat itself.
My words are followed by the longest period of silence yet, and when Chris finally responds, I almost think he’s chosen to ignore me. “I was just thinking about you, actually. It’s interesting that you’d choose this moment to call.”
“Is that so?” I ask, my voice breaking much to my horror. I’m making the most giant ass of myself, and he’s clearly trying to do damage control. Bring this back to a nice, normal conversation where his co-worker isn’t sexually harassing him. What a trouper, that Chris.
“I almost missed your call, though. It took a few seconds to hear it from the shower.”
If different segments of my brain have shut down at various points of this conversation, the few remaining ones all pitch in overtime to connect the dots.
He was thinking about me when I called.
He was in the shower when the phone rang.
He was thinking about me in the shower.
Where he was probably naked.
And likely wet.
And if he rushed out to answer the phone, that means he’s…
Yeah. Okay.
“So you’re…?”
“Dripping wet, yes. I think I’m going to have to change my sheets when we hang up.” Now, this is bad, because I’ve actually seen Chris’s room before, and it’s much too easy for me to picture him now. Stretched out on his back, hair damp and sticking to his forehead. Drops of water clinging to his throat. The wetness from his skin causing the blue of his duvet to darken around him.
“Oh, god,” I groan before I can help myself. I tighten my grip on the bottle in my hand, my thumb running up and down the neck and making paths in the condensation.
“Darren?”
“Yes, Chris?”
“What are you wearing?”
A choked sound comes from my throat, and it takes a minute before I can answer. “Not much, just a plain white t-shirt and some old jeans.”
“It’s more than I’m wearing,” comes the breathy reply from the phone, and really, I already knew he had to be naked, but his teasing is kind of painfully hot. This is not the Chris I’m used to joking with on set, but it kind of is, and it’s making things kind of uncomfortable, but in a really, really good way. I hear some muffled sounds on his end of the phone, and I’m just about to ask if he dropped something when he cuts through my thoughts. “Look, Darren, not to be inappropriate, but I think I need to jerk off right now. You’re more than welcome to stay on the line, if you like, but I thought it only fair to give you the chance to hang up.”
Oh.
No.
He.
Didn’t.
I almost lose the grip on my bottle, but manage to barely catch it before it hits the floor. Without thinking, I slip the opening between my lips and work on holding it in my mouth as tightly as possible. The more my mouth is occupied, the lower the chances of saying something stupid. Only, the more I focus on the bottle between my lips, the more I find myself focusing on the way my tongue and lips are sliding around it, and how good it feels. This makes me focus more on the sounds Chris is making, and it doesn’t take long before I’m blending the two.
“I” he gasps “notice” a sigh “you haven’t hung up yet. Can I take this to mean you’d like to join me?”
If I wasn’t hard before, I definitely am now.
“Yeah,” I whisper into my phone. “Just let me make myself more comfortable, first.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m uh, just getting to my room,” I say, stepping through the doorway from the hall to my room. “and I’m about to unzip my jeans.”
“Wait,” he says, and his breathing slows. “What’ve you got underneath?”
“Nothing,” I say. “Just me.”
“Are you hard?”
Something in his voice reaches into my gut, and I can’t help but groan when I answer him. “God, yes.” I bite my lip. “You?”
He gives a small laugh. “I’ve been hard since before you called, Darren. I told you I was thinking about you when the phone rang.” Suddenly, I can’t get my clothes off fast enough. “What would you want to happen if you were here?”
I brush a finger against my ear, sure I’ll feel my brains oozing from my ear, and am fairly surprised when it comes away dry. “I think,” I begin as I lick my palm and begin to tease one of my nipples., “that I’d want to spend a lot of time just kissing you. Tasting your lips, feeling your tongue against mine, memorizing your face with my fingertips. Pulling away every so often to see how swollen your lips are getting.” I run my hand down my front and begin to tease myself. “Your lips, Chris…you don’t know what they did to me.”
“You said they got you hard,” Chris purrs, and I can hear his breath hitching in his chest.
“Mmm…” I wrap my hand around myself and begin to stroke. “So hard, Chris. I had to go back to my trailer and think about how they’d look wrapped around my cock.” I tilt my head back as a moan escapes my lips. “But now? Right now? I want you. I want your cock so bad. Want it in my mouth, between my lips, beneath my tongue, want to taste it and make you beg for more.”
Chris gives a low, rumbling laugh in the back of his throat. “I never beg, Darren, but it sounds like you do.”
I’m almost embarrassed when I realize he’s right. That I’m so close to begging him for his cock that I can barely think of anything else. I stroke myself harder, faster, not even bothering to keep my breathing quiet.
“Which finger do you use the most, Darren? Your index, or your middle finger?”
“Middle. Why?”
“I needed to know which one to put in first,” Chris says, and that pretty much ruins me. I come, hot and heavy, spilling over my hand.
“Oh, fuck, Chris. You just made me come. I can’t remember the last time I came so hard.” I grab at my t-shirt, just a couple of feet away on the bed, and begin to mop myself up.
Chris gives a deep laugh. “Maybe you should try thinking of a mailman, next time. It might help you out with that little problem of yours.”
I feel my face flush. “I suppose you’re still going?”
“Mm-hmm…I’m nice and patient, that way,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Would you be as patient if I were there?”
“That depends. What would you want to do if you were?”
“Didn’t I answer this already?”
“That was five minutes ago. I’m just checking if you’ve changed your mind.”
I picture him on his stomach, upper body propped on his elbows and his eyes gazing into mine from over his shoulder. “I want to lick your back. I want to trace the lyrics to every song I’ve ever known against your spine until you make me stop. I want to trace every inch of your body with my tongue. Your throat, your shoulders, your hips, your knees, just…everything, fuck. Every inch until you can’t take it any longer, and you beg me to fuck you.”
I’m not sure, but I think I hear him whimper.
Now that I’ve come, I’m feeling a lot less anxious, and my tongue starts to work on its own, with none of my earlier spazz. “To quote some excellent music from our youth, ’I want to fuck you like an animal. I want to feel you from the inside.’ I want to take you on your hands and knees and sink my teeth into your shoulder when I come inside you. Wanna put my hands on your hips and pull you toward me until you can’t get any closer. I want. To make. You scream.”
It’s as I growl the last word into the phone that I hear the strangled cry come from the other end. ”Well, that went pretty well,” I think to myself as I listen to the soft whimpering coming through the phone.
“So…” I say, not really knowing where else this conversation should go. “I suppose this means we’re good, right?”
“We’re only good,” Chris murmurs into the phone, “if you’re at my door in the next fifteen minutes.”
My eyebrows raise as I think about the possibility. “Make it twenty, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”
“Seventeen. Clock starts now.”
The line goes dead, and I can’t find my keys fast enough.
Marketing MBA