Page 55 of The Long Game
Ilya:Montreal? I don’t fucking know.
Shane:Hurry up.
Ilya:Ok. I will ask the driver to make the car fly.
For a full minute, Shane didn’t reply. Then he wrote,Are you over the bridge yet at least?
Ilya chuckled and wrote,You seem a bit horny.
Shane:I’m fucking dying.
The blunt admission made Ilya’s cock twitch. He wrote,Get yourself ready for me then.
Shane:What do you think I’ve been doing for the past twenty minutes?
Oh. Fuck.
Ilya:You better not come without me.
Shane:Then you’d better hurry up.
Ilya was getting way too aroused in this unmoving taxi. He should put his phone in his pocket, take some cooling breaths, and think about something else. But instead he asked,Where are you?
Shane:Bed.
Ilya:Fingering yourself?
Shane:Yes.
Ilya:How many?
Shane:3
Ilya sucked in a breath, then wrote,You need something bigger.
Shane:I know! That’s why you need turmeric.
Shane:Need to hurry, I mean. Fucking voice-to-text.
Ilya:Get yourself close. Right to the edge. But don’t come.
Shane:I already got to the edge once by accident.
Jesus fuck. Ilya could see it so vividly: Shane trying so hard to be good and productive, getting himself ready so Ilya could slide right into him when they were finally together. Working himself open, trying not to touch his cock. Probably giving it a few strokes anyway, until suddenly he’d found himself on the brink of orgasm. Ilya could imagine his panicked expression, the desperate way he’d squeeze the base of his cock, teeth clenched, breathing hard through his nose.
Ilya:But you didn’t come?
Shane:No.
Ilya:Good boy.
Shane didn’t always like that kind of praise, and, admittedly, Ilya was usually teasing him when he used it. But not tonight. Tonight, Ilya was proud of him.
Ilya:Can you do it again? For me?
Nothing for a few seconds, and then,Yeah.
Ilya palmed his right knee, pressing his fingertips into the fresh bruise there, trying to calm his dick down. He wasn’t even sure how this weird thing he’d asked for was supposed to work.
