[Sparks start to fire rapidly, an excitement he wasn't expecting at how breathy Morgan was starting to sound on the other side of the phone. To let him have his fill... while sounding like this...
He barely catches the request for a call back, stumbled over tight breath and such a low and borderline lewd sound straining the syllables of his name. Not a whisper, but something like a moan--
All those sparks fly south with such force that Barrett immediately feels the effect, an uncomfortable press of unyielding friction as blood starts to rush, pounding in his ears and his teeth and his fingers and the swell that he feels far more than he sees.
Shit. Shit.
There's a tight and breathy hum in response - answering, acknowledgement, but afraid to open his mouth further for what he fears might spill out.]
Y-yeah. Yeah. I think... [A tight exhale from his chest, a strained noise to combat the heat. He can feel his pulse building, evident between his legs.] I-I think we should... um... take a break. From this... m-mn.
[Whatever it was. However exciting it turned out to be. It felt like hunger. But not quite.
He tilts his head down, trying to muffle the tense way his exhale comes. The muffled fuck that echoes from behind what sounds like a palm over his mouth, muting and protecting.]
( Oh. His voice is - different, even more than before, and he feels it the way he feels his fingers tracing down his belly, his breath warm on his lips as his cheeks feel. Barrett seems - stressed - worried? - panicked - but, something else glazes it, something wet and hungry that Mithrun can nearly feel like a great beast's tongue across his torso, a gaping maw - Barrett. If he's here, this must be his mouth, his tongue, his teeth.
Be careful of what, though? His head's too muddled to be sure. )
... I'm... here too. If you're so hungry...
( He shifts on the couch across the line, the phone slipping from his hand, like he thinks he's shut it off, but he hasn't. It's not clear what he's doing, though; there's the sound of shifting, and then a soft, an easy to miss ah, ah - sensual and vulnerable, like game pinned up for roast.
It's still not quite clear what he's doing these next few seconds - his voice muffles into a pillow partly, and, in the split seconds it's not, he barely makes a sound, if at all - but it sure is an illicit sort of tone most aren't privy to from Mithrun, in game or out. Low and needing; confused and sensitive, and taking every sensation as if it were new.
And then, by chance - he finally hangs up, this time on accident - the phone clicks off. )
It's the instinct that crawls up in favor of worry that leads very, very quickly into curiosity, into gulping down that quiet and vulnerable gasp of noise. He's locked where he's seated now, back to the wall, lowered to the ground, curved over himself with a hand firmly pressed to his mouth as though his fingers can stave off the rush of blood that heats his face.
He hears the muffling behind fabric. He hears the break in it, brief and quiet and vibrant, sending a shudder through him with a current of need that he's never, never heard from Morgan's lips.
He can feel a fullness in his throat, his chest, his hips... a heat that grows relenting and speeds up his breathing behind closed, fevered lids, panting behind his palm.
His mind wanders vividly: to scarred skin and a thin but firm frame, strength under his hands, sweat under his tongue, shivering meat between his teeth, a mouth that opened so quietly for breath...
And then the audio cuts.
He's left in the silence, panting heavily. He can't even bear to look at his phone, letting it curl against his chest where his heart hammers, pushing that pulse to so many places that he can hardly concentrate.
That... that was...
...
It takes a minute to get up from his seat. It takes a minute to march with a cloudy, urgent pace to the gym. To throw his items into a shower stall and let the water run cold against the pulse of it, his teeth burying into the meat of his own thumb to mute himself as his other hand frantically works, drowning the tension and the snap and the shuddering and the strangled, muffled moan in the sound of the water.
Drowning, drowning, drowning.
He doesn't call again for the rest of the afternoon. But Morgan will still receive:]
( Mithrun follows the feeling, and every imagined hot trail of Barrett's tongue goes down between his thighs, no matter where his mouth starts. It's a clumsy and instinctive thing; his hand follows his mind, his mind trails down, and - Mithrun hasn't done this since his accident, and barely ever, even, before it. He doesn't recall how, he's fumbling, but he's sensitive and his imagination's vivid - a thing he's never employed before.
He doesn't even fully recognize what he's doing in that moment he's been carried away by the echoes of Barrett's voice in his ear, until much after, the daze worn off - and he doesn't know what to make of it, then.
It's better Barrett texts later, because Mithrun decides to take a shower after anyway. He feels sticky with sweat in the summer heat. )
Yes, I'm fine. Are you?
And yes, I'm going. I ended up joining Faunus's guild. So it's a guild activity, in some way. Will you have the time to come?
( The more logical part of him considers it shouldn't be that different than talking in Fragment, in that they exchange voices either way. Some other part of him he doesn't understand so well yet feels it's different - different in some way he can't articulate, having only Barrett's voice through the receiver. )
Then I'll leave a message to let you know when I land.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rip for the mods that needed a NSFW warning that we probably should have added like four tags ago, w
He barely catches the request for a call back, stumbled over tight breath and such a low and borderline lewd sound straining the syllables of his name. Not a whisper, but something like a moan--
All those sparks fly south with such force that Barrett immediately feels the effect, an uncomfortable press of unyielding friction as blood starts to rush, pounding in his ears and his teeth and his fingers and the swell that he feels far more than he sees.
Shit. Shit.
There's a tight and breathy hum in response - answering, acknowledgement, but afraid to open his mouth further for what he fears might spill out.]
Y-yeah. Yeah. I think... [A tight exhale from his chest, a strained noise to combat the heat. He can feel his pulse building, evident between his legs.] I-I think we should... um... take a break. From this... m-mn.
[Whatever it was. However exciting it turned out to be. It felt like hunger. But not quite.
He tilts his head down, trying to muffle the tense way his exhale comes. The muffled fuck that echoes from behind what sounds like a palm over his mouth, muting and protecting.]
...Be careful. I'm here.
we're safe in this post..... for now,
Be careful of what, though? His head's too muddled to be sure. )
... I'm... here too. If you're so hungry...
( He shifts on the couch across the line, the phone slipping from his hand, like he thinks he's shut it off, but he hasn't. It's not clear what he's doing, though; there's the sound of shifting, and then a soft, an easy to miss ah, ah - sensual and vulnerable, like game pinned up for roast.
It's still not quite clear what he's doing these next few seconds - his voice muffles into a pillow partly, and, in the split seconds it's not, he barely makes a sound, if at all - but it sure is an illicit sort of tone most aren't privy to from Mithrun, in game or out. Low and needing; confused and sensitive, and taking every sensation as if it were new.
And then, by chance - he finally hangs up, this time on accident - the phone clicks off. )
are we......
He shouldn't be listening to this.
It's the instinct that crawls up in favor of worry that leads very, very quickly into curiosity, into gulping down that quiet and vulnerable gasp of noise. He's locked where he's seated now, back to the wall, lowered to the ground, curved over himself with a hand firmly pressed to his mouth as though his fingers can stave off the rush of blood that heats his face.
He hears the muffling behind fabric. He hears the break in it, brief and quiet and vibrant, sending a shudder through him with a current of need that he's never, never heard from Morgan's lips.
He can feel a fullness in his throat, his chest, his hips... a heat that grows relenting and speeds up his breathing behind closed, fevered lids, panting behind his palm.
His mind wanders vividly: to scarred skin and a thin but firm frame, strength under his hands, sweat under his tongue, shivering meat between his teeth, a mouth that opened so quietly for breath...
And then the audio cuts.
He's left in the silence, panting heavily. He can't even bear to look at his phone, letting it curl against his chest where his heart hammers, pushing that pulse to so many places that he can hardly concentrate.
That... that was...
...
It takes a minute to get up from his seat. It takes a minute to march with a cloudy, urgent pace to the gym. To throw his items into a shower stall and let the water run cold against the pulse of it, his teeth burying into the meat of his own thumb to mute himself as his other hand frantically works, drowning the tension and the snap and the shuddering and the strangled, muffled moan in the sound of the water.
Drowning, drowning, drowning.
He doesn't call again for the rest of the afternoon. But Morgan will still receive:]
You okay??
Fragment Beach tomorrow? ⛱
:)
He doesn't even fully recognize what he's doing in that moment he's been carried away by the echoes of Barrett's voice in his ear, until much after, the daze worn off - and he doesn't know what to make of it, then.
It's better Barrett texts later, because Mithrun decides to take a shower after anyway. He feels sticky with sweat in the summer heat. )
Yes, I'm fine. Are you?
And yes, I'm going. I ended up joining Faunus's guild. So it's a guild activity, in some way. Will you have the time to come?
no subject
I heard things I think I shouldn't have.
I'm sorry.
...
He erases all of them before they're sent.]
Yeah. I'm okay now.
I can't stay for a long time. But I still want to make some time for it. I don't think I'll be online for a few days after.
I wanna enjoy my company while you're all in town. :-)
no subject
Then you should spend time with the people you'll miss, right? I'll be seeing you on Saturday, regardless.
( very pragmatic approach )
But if you want to say hello, I'll be there on the beach. I'll probably be fishing.
no subject
[Then, about half an hour later, when the nerves finally settle:]
Thanks for the phone call, by the way. I liked it.
no subject
He thinks on his reply - on if he liked it himself. )
We can call more often, if you want. I liked it, too.
no subject
Sure.
I wouldn't mind hearing your voice again.
no subject
Then I'll leave a message to let you know when I land.
( Instead of just texting. )
no subject
Oh. Oh a VOICE message.
///
He feels the smile split over his face before he even thinks about typing back.]
Okay. :-) I'll look forward to it.