Rune has never given much thought to his ass until now. He sometimes touches himself, of course—he’s been alone in his chamber for possibly centuries, and he has to keep himself occupied somehow. But this is the first time Rune has cared whether or not his ass was pretty.
“How many have you seen?” Rune asks, curiously. Does he excel in a field of hundreds, or just a few?
“Why?” Raider asks, suddenly sly. “Are you jealous?”
Oh. Rune wasn’t jealous until Raider asked.
Maybe Rune is jealous, if jealousy is the sensation of roots digging between his ribs. The thin, painful blades of yearning. Raider has traveled the world. He’s seen so many sights and met so many people. Rune doesn’t resent Raider’s freedom, but gods, he wishes he could see the sky again.
Quietly, Rune presses his hand above his lip. He muffles his own stinging breath. The sob doesn’t leave his throat.
Thankfully, Raider takes his silence for bashfulness. “You know I’m not just here for your ass, right? I like talking to you. I’ve never liked talking to someone this much.”
Raider isn’thereat all. But right now, Rune can almost feel the warm breath against his neck. The sweet, heavy arm around his waist. The imagined sensation pulls Rune from his despair with terrifying ease.
“I haven’t either,” Rune says quietly, then shakes himself from his wistful melancholy. “It’s okay if you’re just here for my ass. At least, it’s okay now that you’ve confirmed it’s a good one.”
“It’s perfect,” Raider purrs over the phone. “I was going to spend all night jerking off to it. But I’d rather jerk you off instead.”
The chamber brightens and darkens at once, Rune’s vision narrowing. His sweatshirt is too warm, too itchy. He desperatelywants what Raider offers. “I don’t think my phone has that function.”
Raider’s laugh is sinful. “You’d think Heart2Heart would add a remote handjob function. But I was thinking old-school phone sex. I’ll tell you how to touch yourself. You’ll give me all sorts of pretty gasps and moans. How does that sound?”
Oh, gods. When he can breathe again, Rune answers, “Yes. That sounds. Yes.”
“Good boy,” Raider says, which never fails to drive Rune mad, even though Rune is surely far older than Raider. “Are you still wearing that sweatshirt from the photo?”
“Yes.” Rune swallows. “I put my sweatpants back on too.”
“Okay, take the sweatshirt off, but leave the sweatpants on.” Raider shifts across the line. “Then get comfortable.”
Rune has to set the phone down to take his sweatshirt off. Grabbing it again is such a relief—but he hesitates before putting it back to his ear.
Raider likes photos of him, and Rune likes how Raider responds to photos of him. So Rune settles back against his soft white pillows and tentatively switches apps. The call stays on as Rune snaps a quick photo—this one is much easier than the ass shot. He just holds the phone at arm’s length above him, catching everything down to the waistband of his tented sweatpants. He sends it, then puts the phone back to his ear in time to hear thedingon the other end.
“You there?” Raider’s voice sounds slightly different. A little more distant.
“Check your messages,” Rune says.
There’s a pause. Then low, delicious swearing. “You’re getting too damn good at this,” Raider accuses, but he doesn’t sound mad at all. “Fuck. Okay, put me on speaker.”
Rune hesitates. He could figure out how to do that, probably. But he doesn’t want to. “I feel closer to you like this, holding you to my ear.”
“Fuck,” Raider says again. There’s a pause, then his voice changes back. The tinny distance is gone. “I’m holding you, too, okay? Now, touch your stomach, right below your belly button.”
Every touch is novel. Astounding. Rune has masturbated plenty before. It’s as good a way as any to pass the time. More interesting than staring at the wall. Less interesting than the season finale of Vampire Housewives.
This is nothing like masturbation. Sure, the actions are the same. Raider talks Rune through tugging his nipples. Caressing his throat. Sucking his fingers—they do that for a long time, because whenever Rune makes a particularly wet noise, Raider groans and loses his concentration.
Then stroking Rune’s nipples again, this time his fingers wet with his own spit and his every nerve singing with Raider’s rough voice.
“You’re so hard for me, aren’t you?” Raider says. “Touch your gorgeous dick through your sweatpants. Just your fingertips.”
Rune gasps and arches into his own touch. Fuck. This has never felt so good. “Are you touching yourself too?” Rune manages to ask, because it’s suddenly very important. Rune can’t be the only one experiencing this. He needs Raider to feel even half as good as he does.
“I’m doing exactly what you’re doing,” Raider says, his voice unsteady. “Trying not to come with every sound out of your pretty little mouth. Gods, yes. Just like that.”
Rune whimpers and writhes against his sheets.
