Chapter Fourteen
Cillian let the silence go on for long enough that the anticipation almost had me crawling out of my skin before he spoke. “I’d drop to my knees in front of your desk and I’d crawl forwards until I was between your thighs. I’d push them farther apart and then I’d undo your zipper with my teeth.”
“With your teeth,” I said, a slight tremor in my voice. “I’m impressed.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
“Then what?”
“I’d pull your trousers down to mid-thigh and bury my face in your groin, so I could feel you getting hard. You’d wriggle on your chair in a desperate plea for me to take your underwear off, but I wouldn’t. Not straightaway.”
“What if I begged?” I asked. “Would you do it then?”
“Try it,” he said, “and we’ll see. You need to undo your trousers first, though.” I stared at him, my sluggish brain taking a moment to get on board with what he was suggesting.
“We don’t have to,” he blurted. “No pressure. I’m happy just to talk.”
“No! I want to. I just…”
“Just what?”
“I’ve never done it,” I admitted.
Cillian smiled. “Neither have I. Why would I when I’m usually in the same city as anyone I might be interested in doing it with? It could be fun, though.”
I reached beneath the desk and undid the button of my trousers, the sound of my zipper as I pulled it down absurdly loud in the silence.
“My teeth,” Cillian reminded me.
Laughing, I lifted up to push my trousers to mid-thigh as Cillian had described, my cock tenting the front of my underwear. “I couldn’t use my teeth. I’m not that flexible.” Arse back on the chair, I parted my thighs.
“Can you feel my hot breath?”
“Yeah.” The funny thing was, I could. It was like Cillian was simultaneously between my legs and on the screen in front of me.
“I’ve found the head of your cock and I’m tonguing you through your underwear. Can you feel it?”
I ran my finger gently over the tip of my cock through the fabric to simulate the movement of Cillian’s tongue. “I can, but it’s not enough.”
“You taste so good.”
“Take my underwear down,” I said, already completely lost in the fantasy.
“Ask me nicely.”
“Please! I’m so fucking hard. I need you to suck me.”
“Not yet.”
“Cillian…”
“Patience… We’re gonna make this last. I’m gonna rub you through your underwear first.”
I changed the stroke of one finger to massaging myself with the heel of my hand. It was still frustratingly unsatisfying through the fabric, but it was better than nothing.
“Not too hard,” Cillian said. “And slow.”
I slowed down, the stimulation even more inadequate. “Faster,” I urged.
“Not yet. I want to see you.”
I shuffled my chair back from the screen. “How’s that?”
“Yeah… Nice.” Cillian’s voice was breathy. “You’re so hard. Run your thumb over the tip. Yeah, just like that. Feel how damp you are. I can see it seeping through your undies.”
I glanced down to find there was indeed a damp patch, my cock producing pre-cum in greater quantity than I was used to. When I went to pull my underwear down, Cillian made a warning sound in his throat. “If you do that before I say you can, I’m ending this call.”
“You wouldn’t do that.”
“Try me.”
There was a hard glitter in his eye that said he wasn’t bluffing. “I want to get my cock out.”
“I know you do,” Cillian coaxed. “I’ll get it out soon, I promise. You just have to wait a while longer.”
“How long?” I sounded like a petulant child who’d been told he couldn’t have any more sweets, and I didn’t much care.
“Soon. Just keep rubbing.” That noise in his throat came again when I increased the pressure. “Not that hard. We wouldn’t want you coming in your underwear.”
I took a deep, shuddering breath in before letting it out again. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been this aroused. In fact, I wasn’t sure I’d ever been this aroused before. “You’re killing me,” I admitted.
“I know.” There was amusement in Cillian’s voice. “At least you’re getting to touch yourself.”
I fought through the veil of arousal to look at Cillian properly. He lifted both of his hands in a demonstration that they were above the desk. “Are you hard?” I asked.
“As a rock.”
“Show me.”
He scooted back in his chair, his suit trousers doing nothing to hide the hard line of his cock as it pressed against the fabric. “Stroke it,” I ordered.
He ran featherlight fingertips along the length, the groan that escaped his lips only inflaming my ardor more. “Fuck,” I said.
“Yeah,” he agreed. He took his hands away again. “Remember, I’m not here. I’m on the floor in front of you. I’m pushing your thighs wider apart.” I obediently spread my thighs wider, Cillian making a sound of pleasure, which made a pleasant change from the sounds of warning he’d become so expert at. “You wore white underwear for me today. I heartily approve. Do you know why?”
“Why?”
“White doesn’t hide much. I can see the dark shadow of your hole. It’s making me remember how good it feels when it’s stretched around my cock and you’re taking me deep.”
My cock was a throb so pronounced that I fancied I could hear it, the sound as loud as a drum. Or maybe that was my heartbeat, my body one enormous mass of need and desire. My eyes had closed, my breathing ragged.
“Do you have lube?” My eyes snapped open at the question to find Cillian staring at me, his cheeks flushed and his pupils dilated. “We’re going to need it because I’m going to finger you while I suck you.”
“In the bedroom,” I said, my voice sounding like it belonged to someone else.
“Get it. Don’t be long. If you’re longer than thirty seconds, I’m ending the call.”
Despite knowing that was bullshit when we’d come this far, I still ran to the bedroom like my life depended on it.
A startled Quasimodo raised his head from where he’d plumped for the bed over my discarded shirt. He watched me with wide eyes while I fumbled the bottle of lube out of the top drawer of my nightstand and exited the bedroom just as quickly as I’d arrived. “I’d stay in here if I were you,” I shouted over my shoulder. “Unless you’re happy to see some things you won’t forget in a hurry.”
Breath whooshed out of me as I plonked my arse back on the seat and brandished the bottle of lube like a trophy.
“Who were you talking to?” Cillian asked.
“My secret lover. I keep him in the bedroom.”
“Not funny,” Cillian grumbled. “Do you know how relieved I was when I finally tracked you down to find out you weren’t seeing anyone?”
“No. Why don’t you tell me?”
“Later.” His gaze drifted down my chest to where I’d automatically spread my legs again on sitting, my cock not having deflated in the slightest. “We have that to deal with first.”
“It was Quasimodo,” I said absently, my mind already back on the burning need to take my cock out, my fingers clenching reflexively on my thighs.
“Good to know he’s in the bedroom and not watching.” Heat flared in Cillian’s eyes again. “I’m on my knees in front of you. I run my fingers over your cock and I squeeze your balls.”
“Yeah,” I said, automatically providing the actions as he said it.
“I’m desperate to suck you, to taste you, to take you as deep down my throat as I can. Tell me how much you want me to blow you.”
“I want that,” I said. “I want it so much.”
“I peel down your underwear.” Relief slammed into me. “Slowly,” he cautioned. “I want to draw out that moment of anticipation of seeing your cock again. It’s been so long.”
I hooked my fingers in the waistband, drawing the moment out for as long as I could. Eventually, though, there wasn’t enough fabric to hold it back and my erect cock escaped its confines to slap against my abdomen.
“Beautiful!” Cillian said with admiration in his voice. I went to stroke it and he made that noise in his throat again. “Not yet.”
“I’m beginning to hate those words,” I said. “They feel like revenge.”
Cillian’s laugh showed signs of strain. “They’re definitely not revenge. I just don’t want this over and done with in two minutes. And you’re primed to blow far too quickly if I let you.”
“That’s what you get for tormenting me.”
His fingers went to his trousers, making quick work of the fastenings before tugging both underwear and trousers down in a swift move that couldn’t have been more different from the way he’d had me do it. I drank in the sight of Cillian’s cock, my memories not having done it justice.
He plucked a bottle of lube off the table, which he must have sourced even quicker than I had when I’d gone to the bedroom, and squeezed a good amount into his palm. “What do you want to do?” he asked. “Want to do this?” When his lubed fingers dropped to his cock and drifted along the length of his bare shaft, I was the one who groaned.
Cillian’s smile was pure devilment as he gave his cock a firmer stroke. “It feels so good,” he said. “Especially with you watching. It makes me want to sit here and get myself off without you touching yourself.”
“Oh whoops, my finger slipped and I ended the call,” I deadpanned. “And how did this start off all about me, and end up with you being the only one getting off? You were meant to be blowing me.”
Cillian’s hand stilled, and he inclined his head in recognition of the point. “You’re right.” He jerked his chin to the bottle I’d left next to the laptop. “Lube!”
“I’m not sure I like this bossy side of you,” I said as I picked it up.
“Your cock says you do.”
“My cock has repeatedly shown that it’s unfit to make important decisions. If it was up to my cock, I’d never have left London. My cock would have me bent over your desk now.
“I never fucked you over my desk.”
“You should have done,” I shot back as I squeezed lube into my palm. “You’d have been closer to the phone.”
“Ouch!”
I pressed on regardless, determined to extract my pound of flesh for Cillian being such a fucking tease. “You could have fucked me while talking on the phone. Best of both worlds.” It was disappointing that all I got was a slight eye-roll for my comment. “Both hands,” he instructed when I went to put the lube back down.
“It’s flattering that you think I need both, but my cock really isn’t that big.”
He laughed. “I promised you were getting fingered.”
“Ah, that’s right, you did. And I have zero problems with that plan.”
“Good!”
Cillian said nothing as I finally lowered my hand to my cock and got to touch. I could feel his stare burning into me as I closed my fist around my cock and gave it a couple of strokes, shockwaves shooting through me as my palm grazed the sensitive glans. Cillian was right about one thing. If I wasn’t careful, this wouldn’t last long. “When do you want me to finger myself?”
“Not yet,” I mockingly mouthed in time with Cillian as he predictably rolled out the phrase that seemed to sum up tonight. “I’ll tell you when.”
“Right.” I slid down in the chair, a glance at the screen confirming all the important parts could still be seen. Although, I’m sure Cillian wouldn’t have been shy about telling me had I robbed him of the sight. There was a moment where I pondered how an innocent video call to check he was okay had turned into this before I shoved it to the back of my mind. For two men incredibly attracted to each other, five days spent together doing no more than kissing, and close to a week of talking to each other without straying into anything sexual was an achievement in itself.
For the next few minutes, my only focus was on giving my rigid cock the attention it craved while watching Cillian do the same. We hadn’t done anything like this while we were together. So getting to watch him pleasure himself, to see sweat bead on his brow and his chest, and the rosy flush spread on his skin, was beyond exquisite. Every now and again, I had to stop for fear of coming, my breaths coming in ragged pants. I leaned forward during one of those breaks, drinking it all in.
Cillian’s lips quirked. “Enjoying the show?”
“Very much so. I’m wishing I’d hit the record button.”
“It’s not too late.”
“You’d let me?”
A momentary pause. “I trust you. It’s not like you’re going to put it on Pornhub or anything.”
“That depends. Do you get paid?”
“No idea.”
“Maybe next time. I’m greedy. I want the entire show. Not just the last act.” I sat back in my chair, holding my lubed fingers up to the camera. “Speaking of which, these poor guys are wondering why they were called into work today if there’s nothing for them to do.”
“Maybe I’ll record myself and send it to you.”
“You should,” I said huskily. “One a day.”
Cillian laughed. “I’ll have Amrita put it on my schedule. She can work out where I can squeeze a morning wank in.”
“Not my problem. I’m just the client waiting for you to deliver the promised goods.”
Cillian grinned. “You sound like numerous clients I’ve had over the years.” He jerked his chin at the fingers I still held in the air. “Go on. Start with one.”
“Well, I wasn’t planning on shoving my entire hand in.”
His hand stopped moving on his cock while he watched me shift position on the seat so I could spread my thighs even wider and tip my hips up. Fingering yourself on a chair wasn’t an ideal situation, but I was determined to make it work. The first lubed finger slid in relatively easily, and I combined a lazy thrust of the digit with resuming the movement of my hand over my cock.
“Gorgeous,” he said. “Makes me wish it was my cock, though, so I could feel how tight and hot you are.”
“Makes me wish it was your cock. How would you fuck me?” I asked as I introduced another finger to make the fantasy more realistic.
“Exactly as you like it.”
“Which is?”
Cillian’s sly grin said he knew full well that I was angling for more dirty talk, but that he was happy to provide it. “Deep and hard.”
I fingered myself harder, my muscles straining with the effort of holding the approaching orgasm back. “Yeah?”
Cillian’s hand sped up, the lube providing a satisfying squelching sound beneath his palm. “You like to be dominated.”
“I do,” I admitted, too horny to even think of denying it.
“You’re not happy if you don’t have a few bruises to show for it.”
I distinctly remembered a time or two when I’d admired the finger mark bruises on my hips from where Cillian had gripped me hard. His astute realization of how much I liked it surprised me, considering his lack of interest in other aspects of our relationship. “Yeah…”
“Can you feel me sliding over your prostate?”
I introduced another finger, the stretch catapulting me to another level
of sensation. “I can.”
“You’re going to come soon, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.” I closed my eyes and leaned my head back, external stimuli too much when all my focus was on the twin points of pleasure of cock and arse. It robbed me of the sight of Cillian stroking his cock—I should have pressed that record button—but there would be other times.
“I’m going to come too.”
And then there was no more talking, just gasps and groans as two men brought themselves to orgasm. When mine hit, it had all the hallmarks of delayed gratification and was far sharper and intense for it, cum splattering across my torso. Blood roared in my ears as I fought to slow my breathing. Had I called out? If so, I probably had about thirty seconds before Adeline Girard came hammering at my door, demanding to know what I was up to. With that in mind, I eased my fingers out of my arse and peeled my eyes open to find Cillian looking pleased with himself. I’d missed his orgasm, but the evidence of it was all over his chest.
He smiled when he saw me looking. “I don’t know whether to be pleased or jealous that you came harder than when we were together.”
“Not jealous,” I said croakily. “It was still down to you.”
“Glad to hear it.”
We stared at each other for a moment, both of us unable to keep the smiles off our faces. Cillian dropped his gaze to his chest. “We should probably clean up.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “If my legs still work.”
The next couple of minutes were spent in washing my hands and wiping, my reflection in the mirror above the sink looking happier than I’d seen it in a long time. “You are so fucked,” I said to it, “and I don’t just mean sexually. I hope you realize that. You’re just as in love with him as you ever were. Maybe even more.”
When my reflection had nothing to offer to the conversation, I turned away. I put a shirt on before returning to the computer, Cillian having done the same. “You probably need to go to bed,” I said as I sank back onto the seat. “I bet you have an early start.”
“I’d rather talk to you. Who needs sleep?”
“Every human being since the dawn of time.”
“Well, I’ll just have to be superhuman, then. Unless… you need to go to bed?”
I shook my head. If Cillian asked me to sit here all night, I probably would. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Death and taxes.”
I snorted. “Sounds fun.”
“No? Okay… You can tell me some more facts about the Eiffel Tower.”
“I think I might have run out.”
“Notre Dame, then… Or the catacombs.”
I sat up straighter. “Ah, well… the catacombs. There are loads of creepy stories about them, if you’re interested.”