touch-tone telephone
"Hey." "Hobie, it's midnight. What do you want?" You could hear him shuffle the phone around, breath loud through the speaker. "Jus' missed my pretty lil' thing. Hey, describe what you're wearin', yeah? You let out a snort, scooting yourself so your back is pressed against your headboard. "Good night, Hobie." "Wait. Wait, wait wait wait, please. Don'..don't hang up yet." You raised an eyebrow at his fast reply, seemingly babbling as you listened to him. "Baby, I have classes tomorrow. I can't stay up and mess around." "Real important, swear. Just need to hear you, see you–Fuck. Just anythin'." "Why're you so fixated on this?" You ask, pressing your phone closer to your ear, trying to pick up any sound Hobie made. "Can't do it like you did. 'Ts not the same. Can't..can't scratch that fuckin' itch without you. Wish you were with me.." The sound of slick reached your ear, making your cheeks grow warm. "Hobie, are you–are you..masturbating? You should've said something sooner!" "'M sorry, didn't wanna wake you, but nothin' was doing it f'me." His tone is light, breath airy and creeping in volume. You hear the faint sound of his fingers working in and out of him, accompanied with delicate moans, and you can't help but take pity on him.
Hobie can't help but lose himself in your words, especially since it's endless praise that makes his mind dribble out his ears and make his body burn and ache deliciously. "You sound so pretty. So, so pretty, and all f'me. Swear when I get back to London, I'll treat you right." Your promises made his voice crack, the fingers that weren't shoved in his sopping, wet pussy doing their best to hold the phone. "You better." Hobie bites back, face warm and lips parted as he continues to fuck himself to your words.