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Edison ran his hand through the long, whisky-brown strands on top of his head and they still laid in perfect place. Bishop wanted to do it too. He made to take a step forward but stopped himself. “I’ll call you later, all right.”
“Sure.” Edison retreated slowly, then closed the patio doors and dragged his vertical blinds over until his tall windows were covered.
Bishop sighed as he let himself out through the side gate.
~
Edison
He was lying in bed reading when his phone rang, jerking him out of an amazing scene. He hated that. He frowned, until he saw it was Bishop. He remembered he’d said that he’d call, but he was kind of expecting a simple goodnight text or whatever. Not an actual call. No one did that anymore. Edison smiled as he swiped the receiver to the right, “Hello, Bishop.”
“Handsome.”
Edison inhaled and licked his suddenly dry lips. How did Bishop make that simple word sound so believable? He abandoned his book and reclined on his back, ready to sink into that sinful voice. “How are you?” was all he could think to say.
“I’m good, sore as shit. But it feels good.” Bishop groaned. “I like hard work.”
Oh my god. Edison was already throbbing below at the rumbling growl of Bishop’s voice, and it wouldn’t be long before his shorts were too tight. “Your work certainly doesn’t look easy.” But you look so good doing it. Edison hoped he’d been discreet today while he’d watched Bishop work through the huge windows. He couldn’t stop staring at the way his muscles bulged when he tugged at the base of the shrubs as he pulled their deep roots from the earth. Or the way his thigh muscles rippled when he used his boot to press the shovel into the ground. And Edison’s personal favorite, the way Bishop would take the hem of his shirt and use it to wipe the sweat dripping down his face, giving Edison a mouthwatering view of those sculpted abs.
“So how was your dinner?” Bishop asked casually.
Wow. They really were going to have an old-school, get-to-know-each-other-over-the-phone conversation. No chatting, texting, in-boxing, or pm’ing, just their voices in each other’s ear. He loved the idea of it, but it wasn’t the norm. “I ended up eating a microwave meal. I’ll save the steaks for later.”
“I like microwave meals.”
“Well, I don’t. But there are a couple that will work for me in a pinch if I wanna take an evening off from the kitchen.”
“Thank you for the muffins this morning. They were good. Much better than the bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch I had at Trent’s place.” He could practically hear Bishop’s smooth, almost-smile. “And I like it when you’re in the kitchen.”
“You’re welcome,” he whispered. He would cook for Bishop anytime.
“What are you doing? It’s quiet.”
“I’m in bed… reading,” Edison scoffed. “Kind of pathetic for a twenty-six-year-old on a Saturday night, huh?”
“Hey. I’m thirty-two and I’ve been in bed for over an hour, waiting on the right time to call this sweet guy that I’m crazy about.”
“Bishop.” Edison laughed shyly, unsure how to respond.
“I’ve been lying here thinking how much I wanted to have dinner with you tonight, how much I want to take you out to dinner. I can’t cook, so I’m not even going to embarrass myself there.”
Edison laughed, settling more comfortably into his soft sheets. He swept his hand over the empty mattress beside him, anxious for the day that Bishop would be lying there with him and he hoped that day would come sooner rather than later. Bishop kept talking, his rough voice luring Edison into a warm sense of comfort and slow-burning stimulation.
“Tomorrow I’m going fishing with my dad, we tried last Sunday but it stormed. But, Monday after work, I wanted to come over so I can finish clearing out the weeds against the house where the flowerbed will be. The sooner I get some chemical applications down for weed control, the better. I’m already starting pretty late in the season. It’ll only take a couple hours to finish that.”
“Okay. I may have to work late on Monday. I have a meeting with a client at four, but you can let yourself in, I never lock the gate.”
“I’ll do that,” Bishop agreed.
There was a long pause while he listened to Bishop’s deep breaths and the periodic hitches in his voice. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Just listening to you, Eddie.”
Edison shook when he ran his hand over his bare chest as Bishop’s words raised goosebumps over his body. “I like it when you call me that,” he said, his own voice sounding off. “I don’t let anyone else call me that.”
“Good.”
Edison hadn’t pleasured himself in a long time but he was positive he was going to tonight. There was no way he would be able to sleep. His dick was throbbing, and crowded awkwardly in his boxers. He wanted to let it out, but he knew he’d whimper the moment his hot flesh hit the cool air, so he just barely refrained. But, god, it hurt so bad.
