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}
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.