Page 82 of Center of Gravity
“Wet your thumb and touch yourself. Lightly. Just the very tip of your cock.” I paused to give him time, listening to the quiet, wet pop of his thumb as he pulled it from his mouth, then the slow, low exhale that followed. I closed my eyes and saw him sitting in the truck, his head tilted back, eyes drifting shut, the blond-brown fringe of his lashes.
“Mm.”
Just that quiet hum from him was enough to dash fire through my veins.
“You too,” he said, “I want to hear you, too.”
I started to protest, make an excuse about being in my office and then thought,fuck it. I got up again and locked my door, darkened the blinds, then returned to my desk and sat back down, phone wedged against my neck and ear, legs splayed as I unzipped my pants.
“Are you hard?”
“As fucking forged steel.” My cock all but leapt into my hand, and I gave the shaft a slow, desultory stroke that made me groan.
Another low, breathy gasp from Alex.
“Get your hand good and wet.”
He spat into his hand and I listened to the slick squish of his palm moving up and down his cock, then followed suit. I wished I could see him. God, I’d loved watching him.
“You drive me fucking crazy.”
I didn’t mean for it to come out as a snarl, or even to come out at all, but he whimpered again and croaked out, “More.”
“The first time I saw you again, you walked into the living room and stood in front of the bookshelves and my first thought, aside from how gorgeous you were, was that I wished I could stretch your arms out across them. Curl your fingers over the edge of the wood…” I paused to take a breath as my hand stoked building pleasure, eyes falling shut and filling with the scenery of that day—the warm light on his tan skin, the gold in his eyes, the wiry muscles that twitched with his movements.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “Keep going. Keep fucking going.” The fragmented demands told me he was going outside himself, losing himself to the pleasure of the act, and it had me dripping.
“I imagined your skin warm from the sun, warm in my hands as I stretched you out there, pressed up against your back so you could feel me against you— how badly I wanted you, how hard I was for you.” My dick was slippery, my movements quick and fastidious, drawing myself out, teasing myself. When I groaned helplessly, so did Alex. “Wanted to push your pants around your thighs, not even undress you, just push them down and pull your body into me, make you arch your back so it would be easy for me to slide right into you.”
“I would have,” Alex gasped. “I would have let you. I wanted you. First it was just this little thing, this crush, and then it was just…I just wanted you so badly.”
“Me too.” I said it so softly I didn’t know if he heard.
For a few moments, neither of us said anything. We listened to the noise of each other—the rise and fall of breaths, the little unbidden utterances of mindless pleasure, the whisk of skin slipping wetly over skin.
“Spread your legs and slouch down in your seat.” I heard him shifting around. “Wet your fingers and slide them into your ass.”
He sucked in a deep breath and let out another groan. Thinking about him in that truck, with his cock in his hand and his fingers plunging in and out of his ass was destroying me. “You feel me?” I whispered.
“God, that’s good. Fuck. I’m so close. Keep going. Talk to me like you’re right here. Tell me what you’d do to me, how much you fucking want me.”
Pinpricks of pain burst through the charade and the haze of my lust, threatening to deflate me. Iwantedto be right there, goddammit. And he wouldn’t let me. Was this what he’d felt like with me? Granted limited entry into my life? Christ, it was horrible. I swallowed hard, gritting my teeth.
“I’d haul you out of that goddamn car so fast, leave the door open and push you up against it, the metal warm, soaking through your body, soaking into me. Shove your pants all the way down to your ankles and get on my knees in front of you, take your dick deep in my mouth and suck you hard. God, I love the way you taste.”
Alex moaned, his breaths ragged, and premonitions of pleasure began to surge through me, sending shudders racing over my shoulders as I continued.
“My hands around your thighs, my throat full of you, you driving into me over and over, fucking my mouth until I feel you quivering in my hands, hear that little gasp you make just before you lose it…” That gasp came right then, followed by a low, throaty moan and a string of whispered curses that undid me. I gripped the root of my cock and murmured his name as I spilled hot into my own hand, milking myself dry.
After, I sank back, boneless into my chair, chest wracked with the same guttural pants I heard on the other end of the line.
A minute passed. Another. Our breathing evened out, and reality made a brutal descent.
It was a harsh comedown from suspended disbelief—worse because I was alone in my office—the overhead fluorescent lighting mercilessly puncturing my fantasy. I was just a guy in an office sitting in a pool of cooling jizz with a guy on the end of the line trying to overthrow his grief with phone sex. It was humbling and depressing.
I tucked myself back into my pants, rested my forehead against my palm, and closed my eyes against the light. I heard Alex’s zipper, him shifting, and when he spoke again, his voice was closer. He’d picked up the phone.
“Fuck, I really needed that.” It was almost gentle with gratitude. My heart gave a joyful leap. I didn’t want to miss this chance.