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inbox. duplicity.
{ texts, videos, phone calls/voicemails, action -- leave 'em here for Eddie }
{ texts, videos, phone calls/voicemails, action -- leave 'em here for Eddie }
{ texts, videos, phone calls/voicemails, action -- leave 'em here for Eddie }
no subject
steve's bathroom is nice too, like everywhere else in the home. he chooses to sit on the floor, near enough to the door, back against a wall, fluffy towel under him. he's even locked the door: please, be proud.
he's uncomfortably desperate for a potential phone call, not sure if he's going to get one or not, so he answers with a long sigh, lips quirking a little when he hears those words. it being just voice, that's what he'd expected, wanted. already getting harder, too. ]
Yeah. [ his voice is tired, still strained, and he clears his throat after realizing how it sounds. ] Guess you do.
So -- [ how nice it is to be able to speak openly too, no forceful hands getting in the way, pushing against his tongue. it'd been hot as fuck, but he's in a mindset where he wants to baseline exist and also speak his mind. apparently there is, indeed, a time where he's not as into just anything as he might've thought. it's not exactly usual for a very good friend to slip into a coma, though. ] What're you gonna do with me?
[ sliding the ball right into your court, man. ]
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he settles back in he armchair, a little, letting himself sink into it, his free hand wandering down to pull at the front of his jeans. he drags at the zipper slowly, making absolutely sure that the device can pick up that audio, the rustle of fabric as he frees his own cock, fits his hand around himself. ]
I'm going to make you come so hard you'll be begging for me to call you again tomorrow.
[ said calmly, simply. like it's just a fact. ]
You hard for me already, Eddie?
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Jesus. [ murmured out right after that first sentence, thighs getting hotter, his sweatpants hardly that restrictive, and he presses his palm against his growing erection. ]
Not hard enough. [ honest. shivers go down his back, and he reaches into his pants, breath drawing in loudly as fingers grip himself to start stroking slowly. ] But getting there.
[ there's a version of him that would've asked for permission to touch himself, but everything is little muddy. ] You think you can get me begging that fast? Really? [ a small bit of dare his tone, muted to how he'd usually say that, but it might not be clear since this is the most he's ever said aloud to him. obviously, yes, to that question, but he wants to hear him say it again. ]
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Yes.
[ no doubts, again. sounding completely calm and factual, not even like a brag: wash is rarely about overstated arrogance, just about quiet, simple confidence. there's no need to prove himself. he already knows what he can do, and especially knowing how much he already has eddie wrapped around his little finger. making him beg will only come easily. ]
You know it already, too. Did you just want to hear me say it? How many times have you already jerked off just trying to remember my voice in your ear? [ his voice eases lower, a little quieter, as if he's murmuring right against his ear, as he pumps his hand over his own cock. languidly, almost lazily. ] I make you feel like no one else ever has?
Tell me. I want to hear you tell me how I make you feel.
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he doesn’t stifle back moans or groans when he’s with someone, so that carries over to now.
he breathes in through his nose when he hears that same easy, frank tone, cock hotter in his hand at that alone. perhaps an issue that something so basic and innocuous as this man’s way of speech can turn him on more. oh well, though, he likes it. he’s swept up further into the voice, focus circling in on how his own cock feels with only his fingers wrapping around it.
a strained sort of moan when he’s sized up so easily, melting into a soft sigh of a moan. too many times to count, thats how many. then his own words are flung back at him. so that’s been noticed. of course it had.
there’s a series of breathy hitches, quiet and ragged moans over how he’s thinking, stumbling over how to first, best, reply.
he wants to give the answer, he finds, so he just lets his fingers rest on his cock, feeling it throb reflexively throughout his reply. ]
Like I can’t come enough, that I’m just gonna...viscerally react, implode, if I don’t get your fucking cock in me soon. But that, it’s — [ his words cut off, stomach tightening, shoulders rolling in place against the wall ] the way you talk to me, what you say, just in text. It’s, like. Worth having to wait, even when I’m aching to get you inside me. You’re ridiculously hot when you say all these things you’ll do to me.
[ a touch breathier, panting a bit between sentences. ] And when you...tell me when I can come, when you make me wait for it. [ a hard swallow, a sucking sound as his top lip catches in his teeth. ] Never did that, or even thought about it before. You’ve — [ yet another swallow, a soft whine, fingers sliding loosely over his cock ] no one’s ever made me come as hard as you. You make me feel like I’d...wanna do everything we could, anything that you wanna do.
[ there’s more too, of course, but his legs are shaking a bit, his resolve to speak at length faltering from his desire to want to hear that voice again. ]
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-- Fuck.
[ hissed between his teeth on a sharp breath, his hand working harder over himself. wash shifts where he's settled in his seat, as eddie keeps talking,. the way his words cut off, how he can hear his breaths, panting, how he stumbles a little over his words sometimes. how he needed to take a few desperate breathless moments to even start. how his voice pitches into that whining, desperate, needy, how earnest he sounds, how genuine wash knows he is. he means it. every word, the breathless insistence that no one's ever made him come as hard as this, that he'd let him do anything, everything. ]
That's some of the sexiest shit I've ever heard.[ he's not nearly as breathless, more steady, more controlled, but that rumbling growl, possessive and low, rings through every single syllable. ] Cute little thing like you so desperate for me, you'll do anything for me to just be near you. So wound up in this little game you're playing with me that you're just obsessed, aren't you? Addicted to my cock, to my voice, barely even knowing who I am.
[ he's just letting himself talk, letting that want and need and possessiveness run ragged and raw through his voice -- but there's a purpose to what he's choosing to emphasize. its easy for eddie to get lost in his own want, but he wants him to know this. that for as desperate as eddie may be to have him, have any of him, wash craves it, too. ]
You're gonna drive me fucking feral. You know that, Eddie? [ his voice is still steady. less fumbling, less tripping over his words, able to carry through each sentence, each thought. but the heat behind it is real, punctuating every word, and every now and then he stops for a while to breathe, suck in a breath through his teeth. ] When I finally get my hands on you. I'm going to split that tight little ass on my cock. Gonna fill you with so much cum you'll be dripping for days.
[ he lets his head tip back against headrest of his armchair. his eyes half-lidded, hand working hard over his cock, slick with pre, just picturing every picture eddie's sent to him. pretty little thing all eager and wide-eyed, mouth wide open, tongue covered in come. all because of him. because of orders he gave him, that he didn't have to follow, but did.
he shifts the device against his ear. no words for a moment, just a few heavy breaths before he speaks again, his voice calming slightly, still rumbling, low. ]
You know my name now, don't you, Eddie?
[ go on. ]
no subject
anticipation swirls in his stomach as his fingers wrap more firmly around his cock, a steady rhythm building. he’s sincerely taken off guard with just how possessive and receptive this guy is to the very true, needy and heady ways he’s been feeling. he knows he can sound sexy, but the way he reacts to how it’s said, the heated reaction his answers are received? that’s new too, a confirmation of clarification that they’re both being left wanting. desperate even, maybe.
everything said is spot on. his breath hitches, faint whine over how he’d do anything to be around this guy, pace of his fingers building at what sounds like gospel in his ears. he is obsessed, addicted to a cock he hasn’t even had. hearing it stated so directly makes him moan wantonly, sound rolling from a shaking bottom lip, head of his cock wet.
his eyes slide shit, head tilting back onto the wall, everything said driving his fingers. god, he really does need to be with him, hear that rumbling voice pressed right to his ear, feel it on his skin.
he gives a series of desperate whines, whimpers as his hand is all he’s got in the way of friction and touch. the question, statement, tying up what will happen to him (soon, fuck, he needs it to be soon) gets another breathy moan.
his voice is strained for a whole new reason now, familiar sensations mirroring what it’s been like keeping his cock at bay from coming until sir deems him worthy of doing so. the same sincerity, thicker and more desperate, touch slowing when he speaks. ]
Washington? [ it settles on his tongue with a trace of question, wanting to please and get it right; no other statement about if that’s first or last name or what.
he pants out harder, squeezing his cock as he starts to rapidly stroke for a few seconds, inability to form words until he slows the action.
he needs to come, can hear how this washington reacts to him too, how he’s touching himself. ]
I need you to fuck me. Fill me up like that. Just — like that. Fuck me into your bed, just plow in my tight ass. [ dirty talk really is his favorite to hear and say, more delays between sentences, timed with each heated punch of imagery. ]
I need you. [ he sure means it, whining with the twist in his belly over proclaiming it so openly. ] To take me —- use me over and over, ‘til I, like, forget my own fucking name or something.
[ an idle stroke, shaft slick with precome. ] How would you fuck me first? [ a beat, a swallow. ] Sir. [ opting for that, knowing how it stokes his own desire, a brief delay as he’d considered whether he wants to use his name or this. ]
should an nsfw warning have gone here maybe idk, uhh, nsfw
wash thrives off of dirty talk, too. it's been a while, doing it like this, and even if eddie isn't here it's still enough to have him wanting, listening to the way his voice breaks, the panting breaths. that painfully genuine whine in his voice when he says he needs him. fuck. he hears that slight, brief delay, that hesitation before he calls him sir, and after a moment of consideration. ]
No. [ not said sharply, suddenly, but still probably jarring. he clarifies quickly, though, his voice smoothly rolling over. ] Washington. People call me Wash. I want you to use that, tonight.
[ he likes being called names: sir, daddy, more, and it does send a raw thrill of heat through him to hear eddie say that. but in the game they've come into, washington is a name that eddie didn't have from the start. it was earned, given now, specifically allowed. still not his real name, but it might as well be, and wash can't tell if he more wants to hear him say it just to hear it in his voice, or if he wants to hear how eddie might fall apart to use it, a name that he hasn't had, another scrap of information from this relative stranger that he's just been given.
his voice eases into something -- steadier. still low, still rumbling, but more deliberate and controlled, now. the heat of it still pulsing under every word, tinging every breath, coming more in the little pauses, in how heavy his breathing is between each thought. ]
-- Right after you find me. When you finally get it right. I'll get you off right there in the bar. Sit you in my lap, let you grind against my thigh until you're coming right in those tight little jeans you always wear. Right in front of everyone. [ a low growl, drawing in a breath as he squeezes his hand over himself, feeling how his cock throbs in his own hand. ] Then I'll take you home. And I'll want it, I'll want to finally be inside you more than anything, but I'm gonna make you fucking wait for it even more, Eddie. I'll tie you up. Maybe fuck your mouth. Maybe eat you out. Make you come again. Maybe twice.
And when you're more desperate than you've ever been. when you can't do anything but beg. That's when I'm going to fuck you.
[ an exhale. nice and easy, like the thought of that just gives him immense satisfaction, and his voice is a little more languid, as he continues: ]
Little unfair, though. I'm letting you use my name, now. So what do I get? [ even lighter, easing into that purr. ] Anything you want me to call you?
Do you want to keep being my good boy, Eddie? Do you want to be my baby? Do you want to be my good little slut, desperate and begging to be used?
[ its a question, genuinely posed, letting eddie pick, as always -- the first time he's ever called him anything a little harsher, more crude, more degrading. he doesn't quite know if eddie will go for that, so as always he offers it within context of a choice, for eddie to pull away from if he wants. and he waits, eager to hear, thighs spreading wider where he's seated in his armchair as he finds a nice, steady rhythm to work his hand slickly over himself. ]
:3 perpetually nsfw filth honestly
so that no is jarring, makes his shoulders tense. maybe he'd be inclined to think of it as another variety of an order with an attached promise of getting a treat, but he's emotionally vulnerable that day. either way, he eases back down, head rolling over onto his shoulder a bit, a hard swallow and throb of his cock when he hears why there'd been so abrupt of a no. it makes him feel lightheaded, sparks shooting over his skin, having and using this piece of information, now, knowing he's being given permission to, that he's earned that right. still always in the throes of their game.
his breath stays shallow, voice unable to lift too loudly, touch not so firm when he does speak. ] Okay. Wash, then. [ there are priorities here, and in truth? he doesn't want to come incredibly quickly. it's different than the times he's asked sir if he could touch himself, could come, over text. he has his addicting voice speaking to him at length now, and he wants to cling onto that for the foreseeable future of long minutes.
it does take willpower to not round back to suggesting that their game could shift, somehow, that some transition to bring them closer, faster, is in order. wash's voice and breath, commanding tones and rumbles, it's only resulting in eddie falling deeper into desperately needing to be with him.
his breath catches when that answer finally starts. it's not so unbelievable that he wishes he was wearing jeans in that moment, is it? that he could let himself feel the strain of his hard cock against denim, could rub onto his hand as the only friction until he makes a hot mess in them. when he breathes again, there's a faint sigh of a moan, eyes sliding shut to picture how he'd look like that, grinding (in a lap that's not impossible to conjure some fantasy of, with his one singular picture) and moaning against a warm neck until there's a wet, sticky patch spreading out over dark jeans. certainly, he's never done that before with someone else. never been eaten out either, but he doesn't have the ability to interrupt or circle back to mention that.
christ, he couldn't form words if he tried, entire body tingling and shaking slightly from the first suggestion of getting taken to wash's home, that he'll make them both wait even longer, that he'll deprive them from just giving in and slamming his cock into eddie's ass. which is, he's all but certain, the nature of how his begging will go when his desperation is utterly front and center.
captivated through that whole explanation of figuratives, ringing like dirty promises in his ears, eddie breathes hard, licking over his lips, steadily stroking. pointedly not so fast, just a constant stream of pleasure to thread with every one of wash's words.
a softening of the sounds he makes, the nature of his voice, makes eddie's hips jerk, belly flinching from the whiplash of hearing just how many times he might be made to come in a row shifting into a few sentences, a couple of questions that swiftly become filthy again. ]
Fuck. [ brief, cock stiff in his hand. eddie shifts in place, torso bending as he hums out a whine, aching to contemplate that answer, but words rush out quickly. ] All of it. Each...one. More. I think. [ how can he not think of anything other else than what's offered, melting into that last one, hand giving a few harder pumps, settling at his cockhead, breath all but hissing out. ]
You make it, really hard to think, Wash. But, you've never called me anything I haven't liked, including those. [ stilling his fingers to speak more, voice thick with want, still soft. ] But right now? [ a beat, a whine. ] I want you to make me come that many times, then fuck my ass for each time you got me off. Just, fill me up, over and over. Until I'm...dripping. [ Like he'd said. ] So I wanna be good for you, for you to use me, make me...beg for you to come. I...I wanna be your slut.
[ good boy, or bad boy. baby, too. anything, everything. he's parroting back suggestions, but wash does so good of a job at relaying what he wants that eddie latches onto it with vigor. he's just so open, these desires easily melding into all of his own to match and be made his own, too. ]
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of course eddie's first answer is all of it, given a choice. but the way he makes sure to echo that last one back to him, how he just barely hesitates when he says i wanna be your slut. that's what gets wash's attention -- along with eddie's suggestion for fucking his ass for each time he got him off, and, fuck. god. the little rumble that escapes his throat at that is easy to hear, over the voice line.
being used isn't something that eddie has brought up with him completely unprompted. back when wash was even more of a stranger than he is now, wash had mentioned using him for a night. but that phrasing seems to come naturally and easily to eddie, is something that he's brought up on his own and come back to from time to time. enough that wash feels like it' ripe to be pushed, especially with that new tidbit under his belt.
but first. ]
All of it. [ an echo, a murmur. a little teasing, but not mocking. ] Of course you'd want all of it. You're gonna say yes to literally anything I give you, right now, aren't you?
[ his words twist into a possessive growl, and fuck, he knows its true. eddie knows its true, he'd said it himself. ]
I could give you an address and ask you to turn up right now and you'd do it. Ask you to turn up into an empty hotel room, get on all fours with your cute little ass in the air, head in the pillows, just waiting for me like a good little whore. [ a little hiss, a sharp intake of breath, as he works his hand over himself. trying to keep pace, languid and slow. ] All for me to use, right? I'd show up and put my hand in your hair and push your face down, and you'd never get to see me the whole time, and you'd fucking let me do it. You want it. You need it.
[ he won't actually do that, of course. not now, when eddie needs to be where he is more than anything. but he will play into the fantasy. push into it. ]
Bet that turns you on, too. Just thinking of how far you've fallen for me, so quickly. How you barely know my name and you've never seen my face, and I already have you saying you want to be my slut.
[ fuck. this all really has happened so quickly, but wash thrives off of that, too, knowing just how great the effect has to be, knowing how much of a mark he's leaving on him, a part of all his fantasies, now, of his thoughts and reckless imagination. ]
What else do you want to be, for me?
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there's really nothing else in the world eddie could imagine getting than having a strong hand pushing his head down, eager ass in the air being slammed into. he strokes himself more deliberately, thinking of how it'd feel to be so exposed and taken by wash, after he's spent so much time craving, now needing him. there is absolutely no falsity to those words, and he groans over hearing how he wants and needs it.
his breath picks up again, bottom lip raking against his teeth, rock hard over how accurate wash is with what eddie is thinking himself. how he's able to fluidly say it, grit and rumble in his voice only stoking eddie's arousal.
he's half between trying to catch his breath as his throat goes tight, faint whining moans ever present, when he hears the question. a muttering stumble of vocalizations, a grasp for finding words but just pitched sounds as his overwhelm ratchets up. again, he lets his fingers drift to the bottom of his shaft, circling loosely there, knowing he can't keep it up and speak. how can words, finding his damn voice, already be this hard just from hearing ideas, fantasies, a melding of their mutual desires in potential promises?
he's not uncertain, but it is difficult to let his focus shift back to forming words again, after letting himself sink into the fantasy of seeking out a room where he'll be a little whore, a slut, for wash. so, he breathes out hard, the sound starting to soften after several seconds. no lie in how much harder he's finding it to talk. ]
Yours. [ quiet, simple, firm as he can make it sound, a faint rolling echo of need from his throat. ] You're right. I do need it. For you to have me...however you want. Just, keep reminding me that my... [ his cock twitches, chest tightens, a small delay ] ass belongs to you. [ he hasn't said it directly, but he can't get that idea out of his head.
a natural progression of the fantasy, of giving his subby self over to a dom, in ways he really hasn't considered. the concept probably clicked more into place after he'd had his arms and hands around him backstage, need only mounting from that. purposefully so, he knows, to get him to be better at finding him in the crowd. ]
Want you to fuck me whenever you want. Keep telling me I'm yours. [ it's a lot to say, a big ask maybe, even deeper a thought than eddie might be aware of. everything up until this point has shown him that wash has his needs in mind too, those being met even if takes him aching and leaking, waiting with a stiff cock. ]
I wanna be who gets you off exactly like you want, make you come as hard as you've made me. [ consistently circling back around to suggesting giving wash what he wants, knowing what it feels like to come after he's done just that, followed the man's orders to a tee. ]
I'd be wherever you want, too. Now. Whenever. [ his head spins from the fantasy, including an affirmative for the fantasy of going to a hotel room and positioning himself like that, desperately wanting to. not only to finally get full of the cock he can picture, but to please wash, too. ] I...I want you to...to tell me what to do. Wanna be as good as I can, for you.
[ if it's not clear, wash has monopolized all of eddie's fantasies of late. there's always a spot in his brain to think about steve, of course. the possibilities of what he could have, especially as they've all been typed out so specifically, now said with even more detail, wanting this guy is storming his brain. ]
You should... [ a brush of his thumb over the tip of his cock, whining out ] give me another hint. Or an address to go to. [ not so gently presenting both of those options, slamming them down to put in wash's court. he's lost in the fantasy, certainly. he'd go if he's told to, not really thinking about any regrets he might have in pushing away from wanting to be nearby his closest friend while he's slumbering and vulnerable. ]
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yours. fuck. just his. eddie probably doesn't fully understand what he's saying, what he's offering, wash reminds himself, but eddie keeps talking and that tiny hesitating delay before he says my ass belongs to you just makes it better. hotter. more real. he's so, so earnest, so genuine, even here. that when asked about what he wants to be, all eddie can summon up in answer, clearly breathless from want and finding it hard to even think and talk, is that he wants to be his.
fuck.
and wash does want him. especially right now. he wants him for himself, to tae him for himself, to say he belongs to him. so he just starts talking. ]
Mine.
I'll make you mine. [ a growl to it, low and hot. ] Mark you up with bruises and bites and kisses so everyone can see you're mine. Make sure that ass is always full of my cum. Fit a pretty collar around your throat, just tight enough to remind you of me, remind you who owns you.
Fuck. [ another sharp hiss, a growl. ] I ask you what you want to be for me and all you can say is that you want to be mine, don't think you even know how sexy that is, Eddie.
[ playing into the fantasy, very willingly, too willingly. this isn't something they should play at. but wash is willing to just talk and fantasize now, and whenever the hell eddie finally finds him they can set a few lines, talk some things through. but the last thing he wants to do for them now is break the fantasy. and god, when eddie asks for a hint, an address. he knows he'd do it. he could give him an address and eddie would simply leave where he is right now and go exactly where he's told. he'd wait face down ass up in some hotel bedroom, wait nervously in some back alley, walk right into a stranger's home. there's such a raw thrill to knowing he really, really could do anything, and -- he won't. he won't. eddie wants to be there for his friend, and wash knows that, even as he knows that this first night probably wont be too critical. eddie wants to be there for his friend, and wash isn't going to take that way from him even as eddie forgets that for himself.
so instead. ]
You've been holding back, haven't you? [ his voice slides even lower, pressed closer to the mic on his device. ] Don't think you've been jerking off as hard as you want to, yet. Scared of coming too quick? Getting too turned on by the sound of my voice, afraid that it'll go away once you've come, that you need to make it last longer even though you'll know you'll just come all over yourself like a desperate cock-hungry slut?
[ a little growl, there. he's still careful not to push those names too much, too quickly, but here and there, and it's clear that eddie is receptive. too receptive to everything. but wash loves it. ]
Well don't worry, baby. [ smoother, suddenly. sweeter. affectionate and possessive all at once. ] Daddy's gonna be here no matter how many times you come all over yourself.
[ daddy instead of sir, just a slip: a little because it's easier to refer to himself as this than the other, another because he's just chosen to use baby there and it comes more naturally, and mostly its just a sign of how much wash himself is getting turned on, how his own wires are crossing, how for as steady as he sounds by comparison this is driving him wild in a different way as he thinks of all the different things he could be, for eddie. all the different ways eddie could be his. ]
So I want you to stop holding back. Stop holding back and tell me everything you want to do with me, and I'll give you a nice hint when you come for me.
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well fuck, eddie didn't prepare, couldn't have thought to, for an onslaught of ways wash could use to ensure that he truly becomes his. it is true that he's holding back though, not wanting the call to prematurely end, muscles flexing frequently as he tries to will himself to let this last as long as physically possible. his ass slides against the towel underneath him, back sinking down when there is yet another feeling of a promise being made, that wash will make him his. true that he'd do anything he's asked to do, too. definitely a problem, but he doesn't comprehend that (or that his best interests are put into this mix for him.) if he really wanted to leave steve's house, he would've done that at the start of this. would've polished off his pizza and soda and trudged out into the city. but, no, he cemented himself on the floor of his friend's bathroom to hide away so he could jerk off.
there's so many physical images put in his mind, and he'll consider each of them separately, later. bites, bruises and kisses, collars, and getting a regular fucking to be full of cum.
he really doesn't know the effect his words might have got, either. he knows how hot they are, but they'd all come from so sincere a place. he hadn't been trying to be sexy, just stating what's on his mind. he's felt what it's like to pick particular words to insert into sentences, filthy nouns and verbs to get himself and someone else off. there's little choice here though, he's acting on an instinct that's driven both by raw emotion from the day and how wash has made him feel, over and over again.
his fingers steady out again until they still, brow furrowing, breath softening as his stomach does the bulk of his breathing for him. holding back? literally doing that again, bouncing back and forth between harder and softer strokes to listen, to speak, to just stop his body from caving in on itself and come spurting out before he wants it to. so, yeah, he realizes, those observations are all made with such crystal clear accuracy that his skin lights up with chills. then, he breathes out a soft sigh at 'coming too quickly,' whining quietly when a feeling he wouldn't have admitted, a fear really, is noticed and confirmed. all wrapped up with that filthy end, another degrading name that leaves him groaning.
he doesn't start back up though, drowning in the way wash makes him feel. not with the growl, not yet. his lips press and pull together, bit of air he inhales in a sharp breath making them suck in almost silently at first when he actually calls him 'baby,' rounds that off with daddy. his mouth opens again, only a hint of his lips smacking wetly, long and labored whine, breathing impossible to manage any regularity for. that's when he can certainly be heard more prominently, very soft panting, rapid and not stopping, not until wash continues. and even then, there's a whisper of the same sound.
no more holding back. tell him everything he wants done to him. they come into his ears like commands, the reward of a hint, a nice one, at the end. not like he doesn't want to come anyway, holding back for his own desperate sake of not wanting the call to drop before he's ready (whenever that will be.) he makes a quiet, small sound of affirmation, starting to stroke harder, though, he's just panting in response for a little while.
it's not fucking easy to speak, even when he's not jerking off. but, he wants to do this, for wash. ]
Daddy, huh? That's. Really...hot. [ consider his voice even more strained, cock slick from how worked up he's gotten, a faint sound over the device. ] I like it. When you call me, baby, too.
[ being an obedient and good boy, stroking harder and more deliberately, touching himself with more precisely hit points, knowing exactly how to best get himself off. it causes more delay between words, sentences, pants turning into outright moans in those pauses. ]
Want you to fill me up. Every day. Just. Call me and I can. Come wherever. Wanna feel you inside me, all the time. Be full of your cum. Tell me where you want me, put me how...ever you wanna fuck me. I wanna ride your dick, have you fuck my throat, slam into me where...where anyone could see us. [ it's a lot, more than he'd fathomed he could get out, but he moans in a stuttered way, hand just going, cock even wetter from its head. ]
Gonna call you that. Daddy. When you're inside me. Wanna wrap my legs around you. Want. Fuck. [ he starts to go stiffer, throbbing in his hand, but now he's determined to keep speaking throughout the rest of this, climax right on its edge. ] I need you. I want your hands on me, everywhere. Around my...my throat, grabbing onto my cock when I come.
[ the confidence of a twenty year old who has had plenty of fantastic orgasms at the behest of wash returns, hand pumping over his cock, no moans held back as his hips thrust up. there's a cry when he finally spills onto his fingers, teeth clenching, legs tightening and shaking, whining through it. he comes hard, inevitably arriving at a place where his head knocks back audibly against the wall, hand still on his messy cock, eyes shut.
he murmurs, sighing in what could be frustration, but really he's just a touch sore from working on his cock for so long, denying himself over and over. he swallows, inhaling loudly. ] So. [ breathy, said on his exhale, voice straining even more so, some emotion returning. ] You're gonna keep...talking to me?
[ it's pretty vulnerable to ask, but it's all he has the capacity to say in the moment. that he'll get a hint is set to the side as he wants to check in make sure that this call won't just abruptly end. wash hasn't given him a reason to think he'll do so, has said quite the opposite, but eddie's restless after being so exposed. he's confident in a lot of ways, but he's as prone to insecurity as anyone else might be. he isn't afraid to admit it, when he is. ]
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and when eddie just starts talking, fuck. his words ramble, blend into each other, a stream of consciousness of want and need, and he can hear how hard it is for him to talk, hear how good he's being in doing exactly what he was told: letting go. not holding back, touching himself just how he likes to be touched. and wash is working his hand over himself, too, heat washing over him in waves and waves just listening to eddie work himself over the edge, listening to him fantasize about all the ways that he wants to be used, all the ways he wants to be fucked.
it really doesn't take him long, and wash shudders a little just at the sound, listening to him over the audio line, moaning shamelessly. and in the silence that follows, his ragged breaths, that quiet question. painfully earnest. wash answers immediately, on instinct. ]
Not going anywhere, baby. Not when you've been such a good boy, for me.
[ call has to end at some point. but not yet. ]
Can't wait to get my hands on you. Do all of those things, and more. Call you in the middle of the work day, ask you to walk right into the alley outside just for me to fuck you and fill you up and then send you back into work.
[ his mind reels a little from knowing just how much eddie means any of that. that he really would let wash do all those things and more. another little curse, a long, more drawn out breath. he eases himself down, his hand still pumping over his own cock. slower, more languid. ]
What kind of hint do you want?
[ he didn't forget. ]
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he swallows, tries to keep it mostly stifled and fails, eyes opening and slanting down to his lap. god, he'd really made a mess. sticky streaks over his shirt, fingers just completely coated. his hand releases its gentle hold on himself, palm moving to rest on the side of his stomach, breathy sounds accompanying a tremble in his body when wash keeps up the dirty talk. biting his bottom lip, his breath is easier coming now, body heated and staying hot, rushes of anticipation over those sentences.
he hums at the question, suddenly remembering, head canting and hair brushing over his shoulder, a crisp crackle over the device. ] Uh. [ he hadn't thought about it, maybe didn't really know he might get to choose the hint. ] Asking where you sit is too easy, huh? [ he chuckles softly, warmly, letting a couple seconds go by. ]
Um...something about how you look? Like, I dunno. What color your hair is.
[ it's the best he has in the moment, just wanting to picture more of what wash looks like. ]
It's a good alleyway to fuck in, too. You should...definitely do that. [ might as well tack that on too, back just relaxing easily against the bathroom's wall. not really thinking of what all wash might be doing on the other end, still, even hearing that soft curse, knowing how much both of them are into this. he's eager to wait for an answer to getting a hint, hyper-focused on that. ]
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for now, though, wash hums in quiet amusement. a reasonable enough question, but. ]
Dark brown. Almost black. [ greying very slightly at the temples, a function of how stressful his life has been more than his age. ] I'm not sure if that helps you that much.
[ he's very amused, you're cute, but while he doesn't want to just give you an answer, he would really, really like you to get better at the game. ]
If you want me to fuck you in the alley, you probably should think of something better to ask me.
[ :')
but also, clearly allowing eddie to ask more, and he's not even giving him a number. he'll let eddie ask until it seems like its too much, and then stop -- or make him work to earn it. ]
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that answer makes his tongue click, and wash is the one who points out what eddie's thinking too. not the most helpful at all. a quiet, expectant sound at that, how his comment about the alley is flung right back onto him. fair.
his brows lift as he hums in surprise, no time at all to be disappointed in this hint going barely any distance at all. so, another chance, and his lips purse, squeezing to the corner of his mouth as he sighs softly, rolling one heel in place on the floor. ]
I get to ask more? Because I've been your...good baby? Daddy? [ just, trying it out, only a hint teasing but turns out, he likes using it even in this more casual context. it's just the two of them, and given the nature of the conversation, it fits into place, to eddie. ]
What do you order at the bar? [ it would be easy-ish to try to focus on that, or to look around at tables to see what people have. he thinks, anyway. ] Unless you're not a creature of habit. [ most people are, though. ]
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You've been very, very good for me so far. Its only fair.
[ that, though, is actually a better question, though not for the reason that eddie might expect. he makes some quiet, thoughtful sound, shifting slightly where he's seated on his armchair. ]
I don't. [ wash doesn't drink. or smoke. one of many reasons people think he's boring: wash is a creature of control. people who know him only through sex would see it mostly as an external thing, focused on control of others, but the only reason that's so much of goal for him is because of how important self-control is for him. a function of necessity, of survival, how he's gotten this far. he won't say no to an offered drink in certain situations, but given he choice he prefers to stay in full control of his faculties. ] That's probably a better hint, yeah?
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he absolutely believes that anyone who comes into a bar will order a drink. at least one. nursing it the whole time they're there is not irregular, but going completely without anything at all? well, his question gives way to a much better course than he could've imagined.
he does hum in surprise though, thinking nothing other than it being unusual, but otherwise neutral on the matter. who is he to say who does or doesn't want to drink? he couldn't legally drink at home (though he did), enjoys it well and good, so naturally he has drinks at the place he works any old night. he's not the sort to let himself go, just drinks socially and for fun, sometimes to take off the edge. same with smoking, cigarettes and pot (though the latter of which he hasn't reached out to find in the city, yet.) ]
Um. Yeah. It is. Less to, you know, look for. [ quite literally. wash probably won't be at the bar's counter at all then (probably), and he certainly won't have a drink at all. maybe water? easy to tell the difference, either way. ] Should...help out, a lot, really. [ there's a smile in his voice, toes curling in place. ]
So we'll see how good I do next time then. [ not really something he's thinking about logically, his work schedule being on the back burner of his thoughts that day. mostly, he's just eager to express to wash that he thinks he'll be better at their game next time they're both at the bar. ] I'm not bad at this on purpose. Really. I wanna find you.
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speaking of which. ]
I'd hope so, baby. [ gently teasing in turn, making a little rumble in his throat -- still working his hand over himself, slow and lazy. ] Does sometimes feel a little like you're getting it wrong on purpose so you can make it last longer. But Daddy's getting -- a little impatient.
[ just a little. ]
You're not going in for a work for a while, though, are you?
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his belly does a little tumble at that, being called baby again. he can't help but chuckle softly -- of course he hasn't been doing that, but fuck if he doesn't love hearing wash call himself daddy too.
he would've said more, something else. teasing, playful, but then that question is asked. his chest goes tighter, body shifting so his knees start to bend up. he idly runs his sticky fingers up through his hair, making a sound about it, but. ugh, whatever, he's going to take a shower anyway. ] Uh, no? I mean, yes. I'm not. Not gonna go in. To the gym or Jolene's. [ his lips purse, sighing through his nose. there's the sting of remembering why he'd wanted to be distracted in the first place, right along with not wanting to disappoint wash.
his young, immature brain. ] Sorry? [ he means it, but doesn't want to have to mean it either, voice unsteady. ]
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If you had told me you were going to work, Eddie, I wouldn't let you off the call until you promised to send messages about getting time off.
[ teasing but with -- a bit of firmness behind it. he would have absolutely forced that point. even here, even with this, even with him, wash is choosing to be very specific about making sure that eddie himself is taken care of. that quiet sigh, uncertainty -- he can hear him drifting back a little to the present. and wash could draw him away from that again, and he might, but he does know that ultimately his role here is as distraction, as support. he can't solve the problem for him, or make it go away. ]
Means our little game is on hold for a while. But that's fine. [ a gentle hum, thoughtful, as if he's thinking, considering -- even though he already perfectly knows what he's about to suggest. ] How often do you want to hear from me?
[ every night? every other night? less or more? as always while wash is happy to take control, he's letting eddie make key decisions. draw his own lines. eddie hasn't drawn a lot fo them so far, but wash will still always make sure he has the opportunity to. ]
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his lips push together, breath holding again, appreciating that wash states what eddie doesn't have it in him to. it's fine, it's allowed to be okay. this game isn't some life or death situation, there's no ticking bomb or clock. it's more than acceptable for there to be a break when something unforeseen has happened. eddie can't think of anything else that would make him want to hit pause on this. but, really, it would've been okay, for whatever reason. maybe he'll think about that later, too, that he has far more autonomy in all of this than he might perhaps feel at first glance. it's just felt amazing, intoxicating, to feel like he's given a lot of control over to wash, so wash saying that it's fine, makes it fine for eddie, too.
he sighs out, glancing up at the ceiling. a trickle of awareness over how much he's going to be on edge about the state steve is in starts to seep back in, and it's really that that fuels his answer. first though, a beat for some hesitance and a preface. ] Is there some amount that's too much? [ a beat, but he also does consider that wash wouldn't have asked that so openly if he hadn't meant it. ] Every night, this week? [ can't help the flickering doubt in his voice. so help him if it's longer than a fucking week. ]
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It's not going to be too much. You tell me how much you want to hear from me, and I'll work with it. [ gentle, firm. wash does have a job, of course, but he's an idle hand outside of that, and willing enough to help in what way he can. ] As long as you're sure that isn't too much for you.
[ just. giving eddie the chance to think it through a little while. maybe he might want a little time to focus on his friend rather than have wash distract him every single night. but maybe he doesn't, just wants the distraction, and wash won't question that if that's his choice. hes just going to make sure that eddie understands that's the choice that's actually being made. ]
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another sigh, verging on a grumble, lips twisting from side to side. ] Uh. Jesus. [ he sighs that out, tired and wanting to take a nap, to be honest. he's thinking about it though. how he wants to take a shower, then go lay in steve's bed, probably snuggle up to his sleeping friend.
okay. so, there's more there, on his mind. ] How about...you call or text me tomorrow, and I'll think about it before then?
[ not annoyed or frustrated at wash, just even more exhausted than he'd been earlier, at the start of their texts and call. it feels like the right move though, rather than continuing to slam down a schedule of dirty phone sex sessions like he's running out of time. he has a lot of desperation concerning wash, how he wants to see him, wants to be with him, touch him, everything. this though? it doesn't feel like he needs to be as desperate, after being presented with that fact that he has more options than what he might initially choose. ]
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