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“Two weeks,” Burne said, and his voice shook with excitement, obvious, overflowing, “two weeks, and I can—I’ll run home first just to drop things off and grab clothes, but you’re only maybe half an hour away…”
“A coffee and tea date? Or…if you want…breakfast in the morning, and I can cook for you…?”
Burne breathed, “I would love that.”
“Come stay with me,” Devon said. “We can find out what we both want.” His heart hammered. His watch made the perky warning sound. He ignored it. It was only advisory, and he hadn’t felt like this in so long, or maybe ever, in his life.
“Yes.” Burne stopped. “Was that an alert?” He knew about the watch, and monitoring systems. Devon had told him, for reassurance.
“It’s a reminder. But I know my heart’s sped up. I was thinking about you being here.”
“Were you?”
“Where are you?”
“Home. I needed to shower, I went for a hike after the department meeting.” Burne paused. “Just got out of the shower, actually…”
“Did you? I’m thinking about that. I’m just here on my sofa…lying down, and wearing soft trousers and a fairly thin shirt…and it’s that gorgeous sunset hour, all the light…”
“Are we…” Burne’s voice scraped, flayed by emotion. “Are we…doing this? Right now?”
“I would like to, if you would?”
“Yes. Fuck yes. Um, I haven’t actually had phone sex before? Totally up for it, though. With you.”
“The principles,” Devon informed him, “are fairly easy to work out. Tell me what you’re doing? What you like?”
Furniture made a creak, on that end. Burne murmured, “I’m sitting down on the bed. Um, shirtless, because you answered fast. Just wearing sweatpants. And…um, I definitely want you.”
“I hope so, since you said you were up for it.” He listened to Burne laugh about the pun, with satisfaction. “Will you do something for me? Take off the pants. Or at least enough to touch yourself. The way you like, whatever feels good.”
“Yes.” Burne’s breathing changed; he seemed to be enjoying this. “Are you also…what do you like? Are you doing that, too?”
Devon whispered, “Yes.” He was, hand sliding under loose silky trousers. He was hard and hot, so full of want; his heart thumped.
“More,” Burne begged. “Let me hear you.”
Devon did. Clothing shoved out of the way. Here on his sofa, under sunset light. His hand, his touch, sliding over himself…Burne’s voice, encouraging him, murmuring words about wanting to see him, how good he must feel, how Burne himself was right there too, right with him…
All of his senses shivered, sparked, trembled. Hot skin, his own dripping slickness, the jerk of his hips…with Burne’s voice in his ear, and the small groan and the sounds of matching strokes…
Devon gasped outright as the peak hit, unstoppable and abrupt: his back arched, his body flared with white-hot pleasure, and he came in shuddering spurts all across his own hand and stomach, and lay there quivering and panting and overflowing with joy.
He heard Burne’s ragged, “God—yes—” in response, and that was Burne coming too, the sound of breathless release, completion and elation. Burne, in the aftermath, whispered, “Devon.”
“Mmm.”
“We just…”
“We just did that.” He pulled in a deep breath, felt his sticky hand and his spent cock and the cool air on his stomach and the sturdy cushions of his sofa. So present, so alive.
His heart remained a hummingbird beat. He lay motionless, breathed in and out, thought of nothing except being happy.
“Devon,” Burne said, a shift of emotion in that adventurer’s voice. “Say something, real quick?”
“I’m here.” He pointed a toe at the ceiling, testing, full of bliss. “Recovering for a second. Good, I promise.”
“For me too. So good. You…I mean, I know you know your own limits. I’m only asking because you were supposed to be resting today, y’know, specifically.”
