by M. K. Lee
"How'd you feel about Sundays becoming a regular thing for us?" Joel asks, and the caution in his voice makes Matthew grin.
"Consider it on my calendar."
"You're putting me on your to-do list?" Joel laughs, and though he hesitates for a second about being vocal Matthew lets an encouraging hum of affirmation fall from his mouth.
"Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am."
There's a couple more minutes of idle chit chat where they catch each other up on their days and news, and Joel wonders out loud where Matthew's going to have to put his phone so he can pay full attention to his instructions. Moments later and Matthew's propping the phone up on his bedside cabinet and switching it to hands free, turning the volume up as far as it will go. He then sits at the far end of the bed while still talking to Joel, checking they can still hear each other from that distance should they need to.
"You ready for me, Matthew?" Joel asks, and there's an edge of excitement in his voice that Matthew feels churning low in his own gut.
"Of course."
"Strip. Get on the bed, on your back, have the lube to hand."
Excitement rushes through Matthew as he quickly does as asked, looking down to see how his cock is already jutting out proudly but resists the urge to touch it.
"Alright, get comfortable. First thing I want you to do is get a pillow under your hips so you're raised up a little. Can you do that?"
Matthew grabs one of his four pillows—a habit that's a leftover from once having regularly shared a bed with someone—and settles himself comfortably on it, also fixing the pillows behind his head so he's at a good angle to watch.
"Okay."
"Feet flat on the bed. Close to you as you can comfortably get them to your hips."
The duvet ruffles up a little as Matthew drags his feet back but otherwise nothing else shifts. His gut clenches in anticipation, eyes drawn to the way his cock is bobbing there between his legs as it stands to attention.
"Okay. Drop your knees. Wide. Like you're opening yourself up for me to look at."
Matthew's cock jolts before he's even moved, but as he lets his knees fall open the coolness of the air on his exposure is just one more sensation that has his heart giving another thud of excitement.
"Hands flat, either side of your cock."
The wiry feel of his pubes against the heels of his hands contrasts starkly with the smoothness of his skin. Matthew presses a little harder and watches as his cock bounces.
"Did you like it when I fucked your mouth, Matthew?"
Matthew gasps, still watching as his cock strains even more erect then mumbles out an indistinct response.
"My cock hitting your throat, nudging its way down, your whole mouth full and me leaking in you. You could taste me, couldn't you? Bet you're tasting me now, huh?"
Matthew swallows, nods to himself as his cock continues rising higher without even the slightest of touches.
"I'm gonna get you swallowing me all the way down. Fuck your mouth so hard you're drooling and your jaw's aching. You won't be able to even smile for days after without thinking of me filling your mouth."
A tiny whimper punches out of Matthew and now his cock is fully erect. He presses down on himself, eyes the way it bobs there, sees the slight glisten along his slit.
"Leaking for me yet?" Joel asks, obviously grinning.
"Yeah," Matthew stutters out, nodding rapidly.
"Thumb and finger. Squeeze around your slit till it's spilling out of you. Wipe it up."
Matthew does as instructed, swallowing thickly.
"Taste yourself."
Matthew's eyes blow wide, and for a second he hesitates.
"Suck your fingers into your mouth and taste, Matthew." Joel's voice is full of command.
Matthew raises his hand to his mouth and gives a tentative lick to his thumb, eyes dropping closed at the slight saltiness there. A huff of aroused laughter comes to him from the phone over to his side.
"Did you just moan at the taste of yourself?"
"I—"
"You'd suck yourself off if you could, wouldn't you? Take it all in, fuck your mouth full, swallow your own come. You would, wouldn't you?"
It shouldn't be as hot as it is but the very thought of being able to bend over and do that to himself has Matthew's cock jolting hard. Without instruction from Joel he swipes up the spurt that's just leaked from him on to his fingers and sucks them hard into his mouth again, moaning around them once more. Then he's grinning, hearing the expletives coming from the other end of the phone and feeling triumphant.
"Suck on your fingers, make sure you got it all. Lick them clean."
Matthew does just that, closing his eyes and delving his tongue between his fingers in a lick that has his gut coiling up all over again.
"Wipe yourself up. Do it again. Stroke yourself a little if you have to."
Matthew gives his cock a couple of long strokes until there's another flood of pre-cum spilling, and feeling wicked, this time when he sucks his fingers into his mouth he lets out a purposely louder moan.
"I... fuck..." is all Joel manages.
"Feel free to, uh... entertain yourself while we do this," Matthew suggests, and is convinced he can hear a zip being pulled down and jeans kicked away in haste.
"Later. This first," Joel insists, though his voice is strained with arousal leaving Matthew wondering how long it'll take him before he needs to come himself. "Hold yourself open."
Matthew grins at the instruction and happily slides his hands down and wide, feeling so very exposed as he parts his cheeks. He imagines what it would be like to be opening himself up like this for someone else to see, maybe for them to slide right in. The thought has his cock jumping once more as he sighs pitifully with want.
"There's two things that are gonna happen before I fuck you, Matthew," Joel tells him firmly, and Matthew's heart gives a painful jolt. "Two things before you get to feel my cock in your ass. And when I do that, I'm gonna fuck you so hard. So hard, Matthew. So hard you'll think of me every fucking time you sit for days after. You like that idea, don't you?"
"Yeah," Matthew gasps out, pulling himself open a little wider and considering grabbing his cock, even though Joel's not specifically told him he can. Consciously holding back and waiting for those instructions only spikes his arousal higher, however, and he's writhing against the sheets aching for friction that he can't currently get. "Yeah, I want that. I want all of that."
"Let me tell you about these two things then, Matthew," Joel says, a smirk obvious in his voice. "And maybe there'll be other things that need to come before that as well. I haven't decided yet. But two things..."
"Tell me," Matthew pleads, surprising himself with how needy he's sounding. Joel's laugh is thoroughly delighted with his response, leaving Matthew squirming, aching and desperate for some kind of relief.
"First thing that's gonna happen," Joel starts, in a tone that's practically conversational, "is you're gonna learn some control."
Matthew has a second to ponder what that might mean and opens his mouth ask, but Joel beats him to it. "And when I say control... At some point in the near future I'm gonna show you how edging works. So really, it's me that's learning the control. Learning how far I can get you going before I just stop. I get to say when you come. When you don't come. When you're pleading and begging me to suck you off, to wrap my hand around your swollen cock, to fuck you full—to do anything, anything at all to get you some relief. I'm going to make you wait until you're delirious."
The whimper that blasts out of Matthew then is loud and pitiful, and earns him a dark, lustful laugh coming from the phone.
"And the other thing that's gonna happen before I slide my cock into your ass, is that I'm gonna taste you."
A small frown creases Matthew's face, the clear memory of Joel sucking him off with that dildo up his ass still very fresh in his mind. "I'm gonna eat you out. I'm gonna slide my tongue into your ass until you're begging, and you won't even know what you
're begging for. I'm gonna lick and suck your hole until you plead."
"Please," Matthew finds himself gasping, and Joel's clearly enjoying himself judging from the hum he gets back from him, full of arousal.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Joel asks, and there's a soft moan that follows telling Matthew he's probably stroking himself. "You are: I can hear how badly you need to touch yourself."
"I need to. I—"
"Lube yourself up."
Matthew fumbles at the lube bottle and shakily does just that, his fingers twitching to wrap around his length.
"Okay, Matthew," Joel says, sounding so reasonable, "You can touch yourself now. Give yourself a nice, slow, long stroke. Just one."
The groan that falls from Matthew's lips is sinful, and it feels like the hardest thing he's ever done not to pound himself until he's coming. But he waits, does as asked, and is rewarded by Joel's warm praise.
"Thumb over your head. Mop it all up and get yourself nice and slick, but don't actually grip yourself."
Matthew whimpers and watches his cock strain and glisten, blasting out short sharp breaths trying to control himself.
"Okay, you've earned it. Five long, tight strokes then stop for me, okay?"
Matthew knows he's going to have to savour them, and for every slow slide of the circle of his hand down over his cock he's whimpering, moans falling out of his mouth unchecked.
"Feel good?"
"Yeah," Matthew stutters. "Feels good. Feels so good. I need—"
"Stop. Grip yourself but don't move. Can you do that for me, Matthew?"
He's at the point where he thinks he's beyond coherence, his responses coming out broken and without actual words. Joel counts him through three more sets of five strokes then tells him to let go. Matthew's hips strain to fly up, to seek that friction that he's still not allowed to get.
"Think you can find your prostate for me, Matthew? Like you did the other day when you had my fingers inside you alongside your own?"
Matthew swears his hole flutters at the thought. He's shakily lubing up his fingers in a heartbeat, jabbing one in slowly like Joel's shown him and sliding it all the way inside, gasping out at how very good that feels to have that slight intrusion in him and knowing what it will give way to later when he fucks himself with more. Matthew crooks that one finger at the exact spot they'd discovered together last time until he's crying out.
"Good," Joel soothes, clearly pleased with what he's hearing. "Good. Do it again."
At Joel's instruction Matthew brushes his fingertip over his prostate another three times until he's whimpering again, shaking his head back and forth against his pillow in distress with how much he needs.
"Now fuck yourself. One finger first. I'll tell you when you can add another. Fuck yourself hard, Matthew, keep your legs wide open and fuck yourself for me so I can hear you."
Another groan and Matthew's pushing that one finger in and out, thrusting his hips because the sensation isn't enough. He's not full enough; he needs more. He cries, pleading with Joel for another, and it feels like an eternity before he gets that confirmation of two. It's immediately better but he's still thrusting his hips hard down on his fingers so he's as full as that will get him, crying out as he scissors them up inside of himself with sharp little jerks.
"Three," Joel orders, and Matthew's writhing and crying and his hips are twitching uncontrollably. He cones his fingers, fists them inside in hard, sharp jabs, stuttering out thank you and seconds later pleads for yet even more.
"Think you can handle four, do you?" Joel asks, his voice a dangerous edge that has Matthew stuttering and promising he can. "Do it."
At the hard, wide breach of four fingers Matthew howls, flinging his hips in deep jerks and arching up off the bed. He has a couple of minutes of that without further interruption from the phone, whimpering and gasping and writhing on the fullness of his own hand. Then Joel's ordering him to stop, and Matthew's beside himself, so close to coming that every part of him aches.
"Let's see how flexible you are," Joel suggests, and it's said in a tone that could be a request to change TV channels instead of what he's actually asking of him. Matthew whimpers, closes his eyes, nods until he's able to give a vague noise of agreement, giving a tired smile at Joel's crooning of praise.
"Okay. Here's what we're gonna do," Joel says, his tone deceptively appeasing and having Matthew's cock twitching in anticipation all over again. "I want you to roll over on to your stomach. I want you to make a circle of your hand and slide your cock into it. And I want you to fuck yourself like that. You can move your hand up or spread your fingers but you are to keep it still. No jerking of your hand, nothing but the rolling of your hips until you're coming hard, making a sticky mess of your bed. But—"
Joel's interruption comes when Matthew's already rolled himself over and raised his hips. He pauses, his hand already wedged underneath him, his forehead falling to his pillow with a frustrated groan.
"I think I've changed my mind. I still want you to do that. I think... I think I'll allow you ten strokes. Ten slow strokes of you fucking your cock into your hand. And then I want you to stop—"
"Why?" Matthew pleads, his fists curling up into balls, and tighter still when Joel laughs.
"Do it and I'll tell you," Joel says reasonably. Matthew has a string of expletives he wants to blast at him, but is actually loving every second of this despite the aroused agony he's in, so says nothing.
Matthew raises his hips again and forms that fist, positioning his cock over it ready to breach into the gap there.
"Okay," Joel says with glee, "I'll count you."
Ten tortuous thrusts follow, with Matthew gripping the pillow with his free hand and focusing on Joel's voice to stop himself from fucking harder, taking more. When the ten are up he collapses, whimpering, unsure if he can wait any longer. His hips give little jolts seeking out the friction of the bed beneath him and he doesn't even try to stop them.
"Stop humping the bed."
At Joel's abrupt growl Matthew whimpers, rolls until he's on his knees and away from the temptation.
"Okay. So here's what we're doing this time. You're gonna lube up both hands then tell me when you're done."
Matthew does that, feeling so tightly coiled he's ready to explode.
"Good. Now. Make that fist again against the bed and lean over it. But I want you to arch your ass in the air and see how many fingers you can fuck yourself on before you get to fuck your hand. Can you do that?"
Matthew drops his head back to the pillow with a whimper but parts his knees a little, reaches behind himself and tilts his hips up, and in the frustration of need he's feeling jabs in four, making himself cry out and arch. The pressure of that circle of his hand against his cock head teasing him with the promise of relief is pure torture.
"Keep it up," Joel instructs, his own voice on edge with lust. Matthew thrusts hard into himself with repeated whimpers, rocking his hips back to get even fuller and fighting so hard not to slide right into the grip of his hand with every rock forward.
"Okay," comes Joel's next instruction. "Lace your fingers together against the bed. I wanted to see if you could fuck your ass and your fingers at the same time, but I guess you're getting kind of desperate, huh?"
The non-word Matthew answers with is apparently enough. Joel laughs harder and tells him to go ahead, with Matthew wondering if he's still stroking himself as he listens.
"Don't hold back," Joel says as Matthew shakily slots his fingers into a tight grip and begins to position himself. "Let me hear it all."
Matthew cries out at the slide of his cock into the tight chamber of his joint hands. It's not the most comfortable position being half-raised on his knees with his face mashed against the pillow and his hips jerking down uncontrollably, but he'll take it. He'll take the friction and chase the release and not care how hard and fast he's fucking himself or about the mess he's going to make. Groans and whimpers punch out of him, muffled into t
he pillow at some point then blasted out beneath him as he rocks up on to his forehead and watches himself for a second, before losing the ability to do that all over again and giving in to the chase of coming that's all he can really think about.
The bed's creaking, his limbs are shaking, his breath is strangled and erratic. He's muttering to himself and repeating things incoherently, long since caring about whatever Joel might be doing at his end of their call. And then he's coming, a hard press of his hips as he grunts and spills himself, feeling it seeping in soft spurts against his fingers as it leaks down them on to the bed. Matthew collapses and turns his head into the pillow, groaning there in one long, extended sound that seems to echo against the muffle of the fabric beneath him.
Matthew's just about lucid enough to hear a slap of skin and cracks an eye open.
"I thought you might like to listen to me fucking myself, how slick I am, how hard I am 'cos of listening to you."
Matthew manages to tiredly roll himself over to grab his phone and imagines Joel frantically stripping his own cock with the phone held close to it to let Matthew hear. He smiles, exhausted, and hums in approval at the groan telling him Joel's coming as well.
The call goes nearly silent with only blasts of recovering breaths and the occasional whimper of latent pleasure coming from them both. And it's nice; they lay there sated and sticky but just talking, easy as anything, in complete contrast to what they've just done. A little later and Matthew is yawning. Joel laughs and makes a comment about wearing him out. When they hang up Matthew has just about enough sense to drag himself up from the bed, grimacing at the mess he's made but then smirking at what's caused it.
When he's getting himself ready for bed a couple of hours later there's a final message from Joel. Matthew lays back in his bed as he watches the image load and grins. At some point, Joel found the time to take a picture to show the mess of come on his torso and his spent cock. Joel zooms in on the picture to thoroughly enjoy what he's seeing then fires off a message of goodnight and almost instantly falls asleep.
