Chapter 17 - Jamison #3
“Yeah.” He nodded. “And omegas can get pregnant. The men,” he clarified when my expression apparently gave away my confusion.
I blinked again. “So you read romance with…bossy alpha guys who get their boyfriends pregnant?”
“See, I told you it was embarrassing. I’m not, like, fetishizing pregnant men or anything,” he said quickly, though honestly, that hadn’t even had a chance to cross my mind yet.
“It’s just a really big genre within gay romance and you kind of find yourself there if you get deep enough into the various sub-genres, whether you like it or not. ”
I raised an eyebrow. “Mmhm.” I wasn’t really judging him…much…but damned if I wouldn’t take the opportunity to tease him a little. “Does that mean you secretly dream about being preggers?”
He made a cute little hmph noise and frowned at me. “No, thank you. A little alien parasite in my body…nope. Mad respect to people who do it, but me? Nope, not even if I could.” He paused, dropping the frown and looking thoughtful. “Do you want kids?” he asked tentatively.
Taken aback at the sudden turn toward the serious, I said nothing for a long second.
“I…don’t really think so,” I finally said, my voice every bit as tentative as his had been when asking.
“I know it’s supposed to be, like, a biological imperative and all, but kids make me nervous and I just have a hard time picturing me being a father.
Fathers are serious and grown-up and stuff, and me? I’m just…me.”
He hummed thoughtfully. “I think you’d be surprised by how many parents feel exactly that way and still do a good job, but still, you’re allowed your feelings.
I think I could go either way. I don’t feel that deep-seated urge for kids, but if I was with someone who wanted them I think I could get behind it.
” He shrugged. “I’ve never really been around kids much, so who knows, maybe I’d want to return it to the factory on day two. ”
I chuckled at that, imagining Hen rolling up to a heavily-industrial factory with a stroller and asking for the returns department. “Pretty sure they frown on that.”
“Too bad. Someone should start a rental kid business so people can try them out before they get pregnant.”
“I think that’s called ‘babysitting’, and usually you get paid for doing it rather than the other way around. Ugh.” I shivered dramatically. “Responsibility for a small human. Yikes.”
Hen grinned. “So we’re sticking with the cats?”
I reached up to scratch Minnie’s ears and she chirped in my ear as the contact woke her up from her doze. “Cats it is. I just have to feed them, scoop their box once a day, and occasionally pet them, and they’re happy. Much easier than humans.”
On the screen - oops, I’d completely zoned out from the show and now I had no idea what was going on - a blur of motion and sound jumped out at me.
Voices shouted and shots rang out. “Oh!” I set my phone back on the coffee table and leaned forward, giving Hen a good view of, uh, my shirt. “I think we’re missing the climax.”
Hen made a choked-off giggling noise. “I’d hate to miss the climax with you. What a waste.”
That got my attention again. I picked up the phone and fixed him with a reproving glare. “Tsk, tsk. Dirty jokes, Mr. Rodriguez? So juvenile.” And then I grinned. “Besides, I’d never let you miss my climax. My nails sinking into your back would get your attention, if nothing else.”
Hen made a noise that sounded like hngh. “Damnit, Jamison.”
“What?” I blinked innocently at him.
His eyes shot to the side furtively, and then back to me. “I can’t get a boner with a cat in my lap! That’s creepy!”
That pulled a full-bodied laugh out of me. “Poor Curie is going to be scarred for life.”
“Hmph.” His shoulder moved as if he was moving his arm, and then Curie’s head popped up into view as she stood up.
“Aww,” I teased, “you’re evicting her?”
He scratched the cat’s head and then gave her a gentle shove to the side. “I blame you. Fucking mental images,” he muttered darkly. “Nails in my back. Fuck’s sake.”
I smirked. “What, you don’t like thinking about me squeezing around you as I come, my whole body going tight?”
Hen sucked in a breath but said nothing.
“Pulsing around you,” I went on, making my voice sultry, “as I spurt between us…”
He made that hngh noise again and he switched his phone into his left hand, his right dropping out of view. “Fuck.”
“Are you touching yourself?” I couldn’t help but ask, picturing where that hand could have gone.
His shoulder jerked and then stopped moving. “No?” he ventured warily.
I gave him my best disappointed look. “Too bad. That would have been hot.”
“Goddamn it, Jamie.”
Momentarily diverted from my purpose, I cocked my head to the side and studied him. “I’m pretty sure that’s the first time you’ve shortened my name. Usually only Charlie calls me that.”
“Oh, uh…” he stammered. “Sorry?”
“No,” I decided, “I like it. Feels…intimate. Besides, you could pretty much call me whatever you wanted and I’d respond, at this point.
” I grinned and dropped the timbre of my voice.
“Especially if you say it in that sexy tone of voice that reeks of desperation.” His shoulder started moving again, and I pictured him slowly massaging his cock.
“What’s that hand doing, Hen?” I challenged.
The movement paused, then resumed. “What do you think it’s doing, with you talking like this?” he shot back, with an expression that said he was still embarrassed but was pushing through it. “I mean, shit.”
I licked my lower lip slowly, enjoying watching his eyes follow my tongue on the screen.
“Oh, am I turning you on? With my talk about the things I’d be doing to your cock if you were here with me?
The squelch of the lube as you pounded into me here on the couch, my little gasps as you hit my prostate…
” Shit, now I was turned on too. I switched my phone to my left hand and pressed the heel of my right into my dick, which was starting to throb.
“I’d have your knees up around your ears,” he picked up the narrative when I stopped. “Pressed on top of you with my whole body weight until you couldn’t move except to hump your hips up and down…”
I whimpered and unzipped my fly. Was it creepy to do that without him knowing?
No, surely we were officially having phone sex by this point; he was touching his cock too and knew what I was doing.
I slipped my hand into my briefs and gave my cock a squeeze to relieve some of the pressure, imagining his body on top of mine.
Minnie made what I was sure was a noise of disgust and jumped from my shoulder to the back of the couch, and then down to the floor with a thump.
Kellogg, attention caught by the noise, stood up, stretched, and jumped off the couch as well.
Honestly, I’d mostly forgotten the cats were there, but suddenly being free of them made it feel like I was now free to really go to town with Hen.
“I’d be breathing in your ear,” I told him, giving my cock another squeeze and then a stroke.
“Hot little pants every time you thrust in and out of me. Little moans when I tightened around you.”
Hen’s chin tipped up, his eyes rolling toward the ceiling. His phone juddered as if his whole body was shaking with the movements of his hand.
“Are you stroking your dick?” I asked roughly. “Is hearing me describe what I’d be doing if you were here making you hot?”
“Yesss.” He hissed. “Can’t stop.”
“Don’t stop,” I ordered, tightening my grip on myself and stroking a little faster. “But lick your palm. I want you slick for this.” Demonstrating, I paused to lick my own hand and then dropped it back to my cock.
Obediently, he lifted his hand to his mouth and licked a stripe up his palm, then dropped his hand back out of sight.
I considered ordering him to point the camera at his crotch so I could see what he was doing, then decided I was having too much fun watching his face.
“Oh my god,” he panted, face tightening.
I matched the movement of my hand to the rhythm I could see his shoulder moving in, imagining it was his hand on me.
Another whimper escaped my throat. “You close?” I rasped.
“Gonna come for me? Gonna make a mess of that ratty old t-shirt, dirty it up with your cum? Since I’m not there to lick it off you, you might as well. ”
Hen’s breath hitched and his face tightened, lips dropping open at the same time his eyes squeezed shut.
“Oh my…shit. Fuck.” His body shuddered and for a moment the view from his phone dropped just enough that I could see a spurt of cum hit the top of his chest before he caught himself and raised the phone back to his face.
He was panting, his cheeks brightly flushed. “Holy shit, Jamie.”
“Mmm.” I stroked myself faster, imagining I could feel his orgasm against my skin. My balls tightened and my ass clenched. “God, you’re hot when you come,” I moaned.
“If I were there,” he said in a deep, rough voice I’d seldom heard from my soft-spoken boyfriend, “I’d drop to my knees and put my mouth on you. Suck you in, show you how good you were and how hot you made me. How hard you made me come.”
A shot of heat burned through me and I gasped.
“Flick my tongue against your slit,” he went on, driving me higher. “Lick up the little beads of precum you’d be leaking. Push deeper until you hit the back of my throat and I gag…”
That was it. I was done. I threw my head back and held my breath as I was wracked by a powerful orgasm.
I had just enough presence of mind to hold my shirt up out of the way - it was not laundry day, and I didn’t feel like doing an extra load - before I unloaded hard on my stomach.
A loud, drawn-out moan escaped me and for a long moment I could only lay against the back of the couch, trying to catch my breath.
“Holy shit, that was hot,” Hen breathed from the other end of the phone. I opened my eyes to find his eyes wide on me. “Pretty sure if I could come again that fast, I just would have. Damn, you’re gorgeous.” He shook his head like a dog trying to fling off water droplets. “Shit.”
“‘Shit’ is right,” I managed to get out. “God, I miss you.”
He smirked. “You just wish you’d just come all over me rather than yourself so you didn’t have to worry about how to clean up without getting it all over your shirt.”
I mean, no, that wasn’t my main focus, but, well…he wasn’t entirely wrong. “Shut up,” I harrumphed.
Laughing, Hen pulled his shirt off and balled it up, avoiding putting his hands in the spot of cum. “The benefit of my ratty t-shirts: I don’t care if they get gunked up.”
Moving carefully, I pulled off my shirt and reached for the box of tissues that sat on my coffee table and started wiping up the puddle of cum pooling in my belly button. “Rude. Just because my clothes aren’t more hole than fabric…”
“Mmm, I’m not rude, just really satisfied,” he crooned. “How do you feel?”
I considered that for a moment. “Can’t feel my feet,” I admitted. “That was hot as hell. Not as hot as it would have been in real life, though.”
He smiled softly. “Friday. Two days. And then I’ll fuck you all night, until you’re coming dry and begging for a break.”
Whoa. I blinked at him. “You’re suddenly very hardcore.”
His smile turned sleepy and a little sheepish. “I think my brain-to-mouth filter has turned off for the night.”
“Oh, ho.” I grinned, my attention caught. “So now I’m getting the dirty thoughts before they get filtered through your anxiety? I like it. Keep that filter turned off for me.” I shuddered theatrically. “Coming dry and begging for mercy. Yes, please.”
Hen yawned, covering his mouth a second too late, then flushed. “Sorry.”
Ah, the post-nut relaxation was kicking in. I gave him a smile. “You should get to bed before you pass out on the couch.”
“But I’m talking to you,” he protested. “And the show - oh.” We both looked at our tvs and realized simultaneously that Netflix was paused on the “Are you still watching?” screen. Damn, how long had we been going at it? “Nevermind that part, I guess.”
“Bedtime for woodworkers,” I insisted. “Go dump your shirt in the laundry and go to bed. Pet the cats for me.”
“Mmm.” His eyes drooped a little more. “Miss you.”
“Miss you, too, big guy. I’ll see you on Friday.”
A beatific smile crossed his face. “Friday.” He sighed. “Night.”
“Night,” I replied, and the connection dropped. I lowered my phone with a sigh of my own. I was tired too, but not enough to fall asleep quite yet. I eyed the ball of damp tissues I’d dropped on the floor, then the kitten that was creeping toward it. “Minnie, no!”
I supposed it was time to clean up and then crawl into bed with a book and my cats. There were worse ways to spend an evening.